I'll mention it in all fics for emphasis; there will be no updates this Christmas week because… well, Christmas, obviously. 23rd – 29th will have no updates. If in doubt, dates at bottom of chapter should be accurate as usual.

Cover Art: Mystery White Flame

Chapter 38

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with B."

"Cinder…"

"No, Jaune. That's a C."

"Cinder," he groaned.

"Still a C, though I'm flattered I'm on your mind."

Jaune sank into his chair, more than aware of the sound of Glynda's teeth grinding together next to him. Cinder no doubt was as well, which almost certainly fuelled her soiree into the realm of driving them insane. The pilots had long since cut off radio to the back and closed the door, and Jaune wished one of them would reveal himself to be Tyrian and crash the Bullhead again. It'd be easier than this.

Outside the window, Winter's luxury aircraft glided next to them. No doubt, Team RWBY were being absolutely spoiled on board, plied with fine food, drink, entertainment and rooms to themselves. He stared longingly at the distance between them, calculating the likelihood of making the jump and whether the fall upon failure might be worth it if it meant escaping Cinder. Even motion sickness would be better than this.

Come to think of it, shouldn't I be throwing up all over her by now?

Apparently not. He wasn't sure if it was him getting over it or that maybe his typical motion sickness was more caused by frayed nerves than anything else. Or maybe he was just too aware of Glynda and Cinder and the impending massacre about to happen in the back of a Bullhead than he was the flipping of his stomach.

Who could tell?

"You're not making any guesses, Jaune. Don't tell me you can't think of anything…"

"Bullhead."

Cinder smirked. "No."

"Then I'm out of ideas."

"Oh, Jaune. So soon?" Cinder teasingly touched her dress and pulled the hem down. "Not even going to guess breasts or boobs?"

He steadfastly looked away.

"Well, it wasn't that," she said, letting go. "It was actually `bitch`." Cinder pointed at Glynda.

Jaune sighed.

"Your petty insults won't affect me, Fall." Glynda kept her eyes closed. "Resorting to them only shows how childish you really are. A shame. I expected more of someone who considered herself Ozpin's equal."

"Well I did kill him, didn't I?"

"No. He's still alive."

Cinder rolled her single eye. "Close enough."

"Miss Fall," she hissed. "Despite what you may believe, you are still here under probation. One wrong step and I shall take pleasure in busting you once more and locking you in a dark cell from which you will never again see the light of day. Your petty words may be your way of trying to establish some form of dominance, but that is a fallacy that exists only in your mind. You are a prisoner. Remember that."

"It's adorable you believe you have any say in my fate at all, Glynda. I shall remain as long as Jaune believes I am useful. And I can be very useful to a man like him."

"My name is Goodwitch to you. Not Glynda."

"Come now, Glynda. We're colleagues. Shouldn't we get along?"

Glynda shot him a furious scowl. One to which he replied with a helpless little shrug. He couldn't counter what Cinder said because she'd only stay under control so long as she thought it was his plan. The bit about only him having power was a part of her delusions too. It's not my fault she's insane. Well, maybe it is, but I didn't intend it this way!

`Control her`. Glynda mouthed.

Control her…? How? He still wasn't sure what he'd done specifically to feed her delusion in the first place, so changing that or reining her in wasn't going to be easy. The only thing he could do was suggest it was his plan.

Well, it was as god an idea as any.

"Cinder." He didn't fail to notice how her eye snapped to him the second he spoke. He had her full attention. It was kind of creepy. "It's important we present a united front to Atlas and especially Ironwood. It wouldn't do for them to see discord in our ranks and believe it an opportunity to exploit."

The dark-haired woman was silent for a few long moments, processing that information. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed. He wondered what gymnastics she went through with what had been to him a simple request to not be a cow to Glynda. Whatever her conclusion, it was obviously far from the truth because she looked smugger than ever.

"I see. I shall be on my best behaviour when we land, then." Her hand came up to toy with the hair covering the ruined half of her face. "Although if you were to tell me your plan, I would be better able to fulfil the role you have for me."

That was a nice thought. Shame he didn't have one.

"My plan is one that must remain secret for now," he lied. "I need you to act with complete honesty for it to work – and what better way to do that than ensure you're honestly surprised?"

"Hmmm. Clever. I'll await your surprise, then. I do hope it's interesting."

He forced a dark chuckle. One straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon. "You won't be disappointed."

Glynda gagged.

He had the uncomfortable feeling she'd seen those cartoons.

Still, it had gotten Cinder to stop baiting Glynda – hey, another thing beginning with B – and that was good enough for now. He knew it wouldn't last. Cinder was ambitious enough that even just having escaped a life of imprisonment, she was aiming for the top. Whether that meant being his partner or not, everyone knew Glynda was the second in command.

She's going to try and upstage Glynda at every opportunity. He groaned in his head. It had the potential to be both good and bad. At least if Cinder wanted to outperform her, she'd have to try and beat Glynda at her own game, which wasn't going to be murdering innocents or breaking the law. Small mercies, though I doubt Glynda will see it that way.

"Be on your best behaviour for now," he ordered.

"Of course. Now, I believe you still got it wrong. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with C."

Jaune sighed. "Cinder…"

"No."

"Then I give up."

"Oh Jaune." She leaned over to touch his knee. "It's cock-"

"You can't see that!" he yelled.

"-pit. Cockpit."

"…"

"Were you thinking something else, Jaune? I do hope your mind didn't go south."

"I hate you."

He hoped Team RWBY were having just as bad a time as he.

/-/

Yang bounced in her vibrating massage chair, moaning as the rollers under the leather ran up and down her back, working out kinks she didn't know she had. It was heated as well, relaxing her muscles and leaving her a puddle of goo. She wasn't the only one, Blake fast asleep with a contented smile in the seat beside her.

"This," she whispered. "This is the way to travel."

A soldier appeared at her side. "Your strawberry sunrise, ma'am?"

Yang cocked an eyebrow, noted the little umbrella and smiled. "Hmm. I like." She took the drink and sipped. "Very nice. You sure it's okay for a soldier to serve us drunks, though? Feels a little disrespectful."

"We're still on duty," the armoured man replied, "So there's not much else for us to do. Don't worry about it." He held up a can of soda. "I need to deliver this to your sister. She's playing Grimm Slaughter III in the VR training simulator."

Money went a long way apparently. She'd always known that, but it wasn't like their family was rich. They'd settled on Patch because it was cheaper than Vale. With the population problems that led to Mountain Glenn and the limited space within the walls, not to mention the fact that everyone who didn't want to die to Grimm wanted to live within said walls, the prices of a property in the city were fifty times higher than outside it.

That wasn't much of a problem when your entire family was huntsmen and could hold their own against Grimm, so the lower prices let them afford their personalised weapons, training and her motorcycle, but as much as they got on well, no one could call them rich.

Weiss on the other hand. Wow.

"Massage chairs, personal waiters and a gaming room. Who do I have to marry to get something like this?"

"Whitley Schnee," Blake replied, apparently having woken up.

"Eh." Yang shrugged. "He's not hideous."

"He's fourteen at best..."

"Won't always be."

"Don't let Oscar hear you say that," Blake said. "He might get excited."

Yang laughed at the teasing. Last she'd checked, Oscar was happy to retire to the personal bedrooms and the comfiest beds Yang had ever seen to sleep off the journey. He looked bushed, which was fair given the shit he'd been through lately.

"You think Oscar is okay?" she asked.

"You're talking about how he's been acting recently?"

"Yeah. It's not just me, is it? He's been weird…"

"He has been." Blake's confirmation had Yang feeling a little better. "I wasn't sure what to make of it myself. His entire speech patterns changed after that incident in the forest." She paused. "It could be explained off as a result of that…"

"Drugs making him act different?"

"I'm thinking more his mind being muddled and talking slower since he has to pick and choose his words. Like he's drunk and is trying to speak normally. You know how a person's voice can change when they do that, even if they think they're speaking normally."

Yang hummed. Qrow did it all the time without realising, especially when he wanted to pretend he hadn't been drinking. He wouldn't slur, but he'd speak slower, making it painfully obvious he was trying to act sober and wasn't. Having lived through that, she thought she could tell when someone was that way and Oscar hadn't seemed inebriated on his medicine. He'd been pretty calm, all things considered.

"I'm worried about him."

"You're not the only one. Ruby has been watching him."

Yang snorted. "Ruby feels bad after dislocating his shoulder by accident. Don't see why. Miss Tsune already told her it was only cuz Oscar's shoulder was already dislocated. Still, it's Ruby. She always blames herself when something goes wrong."

"Hm. I know what you mean."

Blake purred as the massage chair automatically drew back, laying her out flat. The vibrating intensified, rollers rubbing under her shoulders and calves at the same time. Yang watched jealously, at least until her chair did the same and then all she could do was fight the urge to fall asleep in bliss.

"I think," Blake began, sounding just as drunk as Qrow would, expect on relaxation. "I think we should keep an eye on him. Do you, hmmm, remember how we found him? Cinder and the others were after him because he had information."

"The Prof said he was an informant or something. Or a spy."

It sounded crazy to her when he was young and untrained, but hey, that was the point, wasn't it? In real life, spies weren't going to be suave older men with sports cars and gadgets. They'd be the last person you expected it to be, which Oscar fit to a tee.

"Jaune meets with him in private sometimes," Blake said.

"About…?"

"I don't know. They always make sure to talk away from me and I can never hear them." Blake made an annoyed sound. "Almost like they think I'd try and listen in or something…"

"Didn't you just admit to that?"

"Anyway." Blake dodged the question. "The point I'm making is that whatever work Oscar did for Beacon, he's probably still doing. He's still gathering information or spying."

"On us?"

"I doubt it. Jaune could ask Ruby what she'd been up to and she would tell him everything, even what colour underwear she's wearing." Blake laughed. "He doesn't need to spy on us. Plus, we know about Oscar so it wouldn't make sense."

"True."

To be fair, she was pretty sure they were trussed if they were being brought along to Atlas. Plus, their team was the Prof's go-to team for whenever he needed something dealt with. That was something Ruby boasted about all the time, and even Yang would admit being subtly pleased about it. Heh. We're awesome.

"So, you're saying Oscar is probably overworked or stressed?" Yang asked.

"I was saying he might be distracted on other things or falling back on a fake persona he used as a spy…" Blake said. "But your idea might be better, actually. He's gone from doing his work to nearly being killed by Cinder, rescued by us, brought back to Beacon, put through intense training, nearly killed again in the Emerald Forest and then dragged to Atlas."

"So have we…"

"Yes, but we're trained to handle that. And unless Oscar is faking his bone shattering exhaustion after every training session – which I doubt he is from how wrecked he looks – he hasn't. No wonder he went straight to the nearest bed."

"Poor guy…"

Yang sighed, feeling the faint stirrings of something she hadn't dealt with since Ruby grew up and out into someone able to look after herself. Maternal instincts. Taiyang had been a good father after he'd recovered from Summer's death, and Uncle Qrow helped all the time, but even so, he had work and had to bring in money for their family. There had been times when Yang had to drop toys and help around the house, from laundry to cleaning to washing and looking after Ruby.

In a way and for a while, she'd looked at Ruby as both younger sister and daughter, weird as that sounded. It wasn't that she thought Ruby was, more like she had panic attacks whenever Ruby did something dangerous for a week or two, and would feel ridiculously proud whenever Ruby did anything, from riding a bike to completing her first backflip.

Poor Oscar doesn't have anyone anymore and he's been tossed into the worst of things. Maybe I should try and help him out. Let him know I can be a big sister if he wants someone to talk to. It wouldn't cost her anything, and it wasn't like she hadn't done it before. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.

But first, massage chair.

"Oooh. It's so good."

"Hmmmmmm," Blake agreed. "Mmmmmmm…"

/-/

Atlas was ready for their arrival.

The landing pad assigned to them was filled with armed soldiers and even had a pair of tanks, one on each side. The soldiers covered the landing pad entirely, with a wide strip of open space down the middle set with a red carpet. Two figures stood on that, one of which had to be General Ironwood and the other unrecognisable. Behind the soldiers was a band of some sort, all in military uniforms but banging drums and playing on trumpets.

"It's the full welcoming committee."

"Looks more like they're waiting to arrest us," Jaune said.

"Atlas enjoys its little games," Cinder mocked. "They bark like dogs and scream for attention, needing to be seen as the biggest and loudest no matter the situation."

"That might be an opinion better kept private," he remarked.

Cinder chuckled. "I shall let you do the talking then."

Their Bullhead came in to land and pivoted to the side, exposing their closed door to the soldiers. Jaune tightened his grip on Crocea Mors for support and adjusted his collar, hoping he looked smart. Glynda was doing the same next to him, brushing her skirt down and pushing her hair flat. Winter's aircraft settled down beside theirs, dwarfing it.

The ramp came down, leaving them no more time as the door opened and cold air swept in, kicking his coat out behind him in what he hoped wasn't an entirely stupid look. Taking a deep breath, he marched out before he could second guess himself, down the ramp and onto the landing pad. A hundred boots stamped down as every soldier saluted. The orchestra reached a crescendo with a mighty drum roll.

Its sudden ending was deafening.

The silence left behind was even more so.

Slowly, Ironwood marched forward, the man beside him dressed in uniform and mirroring his every step. Jaune stood still, Glynda beside him and Cinder behind. Ironwood's eyes glimpsed over his shoulder toward her and narrowed dangerously. He looked back to Jaune as he came to a stop and extended one hand. His cybernetic one.

"Arc."

"General Ironwood," he replied, trying not to wince as cold metal threatened to crush his bones. "Thank you for letting us come help," he said, hissing faintly. "We're…" A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. "-always eager to help our allies."

Ironwood released him with a firm – aka, hand-shattering – shake. "Yes. Allies." The word was grunted. "That is what we are. Your… aid… is appreciated."

Somehow, he got the impression it wasn't.

"We brought a team of students with us. I hope that's not a problem."

Team RWBY plus Oscar had just come down their own ramp behind Winter, and they had the look of teenagers just asked to wake up from the best sleep of their lives. Ruby was pawing at her eyes while Yang yawned.

And unless his eyes mistook him, Ruby's bag was wriggling.

They hadn't. Surely not…

It's Team RWBY, he thought. Of course they have…

"It's not a concern," Ironwood said. "In fact, I'm more relieved having Weiss Schnee back where she is supposed to be." He glared at Jaune. "I don't remember giving permission for her to travel to Beacon."

Jaune blinked back. "I don't remember asking it…?"

Seriously. He hadn't done a thing with Weiss. She'd just shown up with Winter – and it wasn't like he'd talked to Winter about it beforehand. That didn't stop Ironwood looming over him or fixing him with the disbelieving gaze.

"James," Glynda said, breaking it, "Perhaps we should discuss this in private?"

"Yes." He stepped back. "My assistant here shall direct your team to rooms assigned to them. They are free to roam and explore the academy as they wish, though I would ask them to alert either yourselves or a member of our staff if they wish to leave the school grounds." He said it loud enough for them to hear. "There is little risk and no reason you cannot explore Atlas, but we would appreciate not having to worry about guests vanishing under our nose."

"They will request permission before doing so," Glynda promised sternly.

Team RWBY nodded furiously, knowing it wasn't worth it to force Miss Goodwitch to break said promise. Not on their lives.

"Very well." Ironwood nodded to his assistant. "Escort our guests away. Answer any questions they have and prepare meals for them. Arc, Glynda." His eyes slid to Cinder. "And you."

"It's Cinder," she introduced smugly. "Cinder Fall."

Ironwood's haw grated. "I am aware. Please follow me to my office. We can speak privately there."

The three of them were led down the aisle between soldiers to the open doors at the other end. Even inside, people saluted for them and stood at attention, with several forming a human barricade against photographers and media that shot pictures and shouted questions.

"Comment will be delivered by our spokespeople," Ironwood called over them.

"Cinder Fall-" a journalist yelled.

"No comment."

Cinder smiled under the attention and flashed the journalist in question a perfect shot, hair concealing the scars he'd given her. Cameras flashed and Jaune reached out to grip her wrist and pull her along. At the next intersection, Team RWBY and Winter were escorted left and away while they went right, travelling down thankfully quieter corridors until they reached a large door. Ironwood entered a code into the number pad, and it opened.

The interior was spartan. A single desk stood at the far back, while a huge flat-screen television displayed statistics and a map of the city. The General would have checked it for important information beforehand and made sure there was nothing they could see that mattered. Aside from that, a terminal sat on his desk and a weapons rack adorned the other side, weaponry locked behind a code-locked grill mesh. There was a drinks cabinet behind and to the left of the desk, in the corner of the room. It looked more ornamental than functional, the bottles inside covered in a layer of dust.

"You've brought her," Ironwood spat. "Why?"

Cinder opened her mouth.

Jaune closed it with one hand, making her eye cross.

"It wouldn't have been safe to leave her at Beacon unattended and you'd mentioned wanting to question her before. It's a combination of necessity and a gesture of friendship. Cinder has agreed to co-operate, and I thought you could still pose your questions."

Cinder's eye slid to him and narrowed. No doubt she was running through the reasons why he might suggest such a thing, misinterpreting it as his grand plan and then making some way-off-the-mark conclusion as to what it was he was planning. Yep. Her eye was curved up happily. She had some crazy idea in her head.

If nothing else, at least it for her co-operating.

General Ironwood didn't look impressed. Or convinced. "She does not wander alone."

"Acceptable. Though we were hoping you might provide a private room for her. Glynda and I don't exactly feel… ah… safe sharing a room with her."

Cinder laughed behind his hand.

"I can't imagine why," Ironwood muttered. "You will each receive an individual room. Hers shall be locked from the outside and her being inside it will be the only time I accept her not being under your direct surveillance. Naturally, you are responsible for her every action."

"I get it."

"I hope you do, Arc." Ironwood sat down with a huff, his hands banging on the table, the mechanical one much louder. "Because just as you are responsible for her, I find myself responsible for you. The Military Council of Atlas has decided your appearance here is a good thing, but only on a political level. It reaffirms the bonds between Atlas and Vale." He pointed at him. "But don't think for a second that implies any bond between us."

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind."

"While you are here, my word is law." He pointed to himself. "You follow my rules and do as I say. I will be watching you." Ironwood motioned to his eyes and then to Jaune. "Don't doubt that for a second."

I feel like the trust is lacking just a little bit…

"Understood, General. If I can say, Ozpin was hoping to speak with you…"

"An I shall speak with him in private. Preferably away from prying eye and ears." Ironwood leaned back in his chair. "In the meantime, you're welcome to roam Atlas so long as you stay on site. Unlike your students, you'll need an escort if you wish to leave the academy. Understand that this is for your own protection as much as ours. Adam would love the international crisis that would come from you being hurt or killed on our soil, and I refuse to play into his hands."

Jaune perked up. "About the White Fang…"

"No."

"No…?"

"You are here to assist and offer support as an ally," Ironwood stated. "Not to involve yourselves in our investigation or try to take over it. If I have need of you, be that in expertise or combat, I will call on you. You do not need to know anything of our investigations thus far."

Jaune's mouth moved before he could stop it. "You haven't found anything, have you?"

The edge of Ironwood's desk came away in his hand.

Glynda slapped a hand into her forehead.

Cinder snorted.

"Our investigation is thorough and still in progress," Ironwood growled, not entirely denying the point. "We will not jump at shadows or act rashly when public perception is key. I am pleased by your desire to be here, even if only grudgingly. Should we find evidence enough to mount an attack, you shall be informed and involved in it. If nothing else, the publicity of us fighting together against a common foe will help put people at ease."

It wasn't idea, but he knew they weren't going to get better. And Ironwood couldn't stop them doing their own looking at the same time. Maybe Ozpin can convince him to work with us. I should stop pushing for now.

"How is the dust situation?" he asked. "I know we've got our own shortages in Vale…"

Ironwood nodded, relaxing a little. "It's bad, but under control for the moment. The SDC has contingencies in place, to say nothing off factories in other Kingdoms. Costs have been driven up and that's created a knock-on effect on just about every part of the economy. Dust is the lifeblood of our Kingdom. Of any Kingdom. It powers everything from homes to cars to big business, and a sudden spike in prices hurts everyone. That said, we've decided to lower taxes to subsidise that cost. It's a temporary fix, but this should hopefully be a temporary problem."

"Is Jacques building a new factory?"

"Yes." Ironwood sighed. "And we've been forced to pay for half of it."

"What? Why!?"

"To speed up production. Even in the face of such a tragedy, he finds way to turn a profit. All it took was him saying they `lacked the funds to begin construction immediately` and we were all but forced to step in and cover the difference."

"The SDC lacks funds," Cinder said mockingly. "Hilarious."

"As much as I hate to agree with you, I do." General Ironwood rolled his eyes. "But there was nothing we can do. We need that dust production back online and it's quicker to play into his silly games than see how long he'll drag his feet. We'll get him back later in specific laws, taxation or sudden shifts in dust policy. Once this current disaster is dealt with, that is. We're not without our teeth and we won't forget his games."

Better to bite the bullet now and deal with Jacques later. He could accept the reasoning there, especially with Salem and Adam to deal with.

"I don't suppose there's much we can do to help with that, is there?"

"Unless you have some hitherto undiscovered dust pocket in your backyard, no." Ironwood pushed a button on his desk and a soldier entered after a brief knock. "Lieutenant Salmon here shall escort you to your quarters. Welcome to Atlas."

Don't cause trouble, he didn't say.

Didn't have to.

/-/

Cinder watched as Jaune inspected the room she'd been given, allegedly making sure there was no chance of her escaping and causing trouble. He inspected the corners and rooms, looked inside cupboards and tested the windows.

Looking for recording devices, her mind filled in. She smiled, knowing she would be doing the same later and that there would be some somewhere. Removing them all would be a poor decision as it would prompt Ironwood to apply them again. The better decision was to remove most of them but leave a few, pretending she had missed them. From there, she could monitor what she said around those few remaining devices but otherwise let Ironwood feel he had the upper hand.

Jaune went a step further, pretending he missed all of them. That was the only explanation for why he completely failed to notice the lens hidden in the curtain rail as he closed it. It was all an act. He stepped by another as well, the faint sheen of reflected light behind a potted plant.

Genius. He planned to ignore each and every one of them.

What would Ironwood think? Like her, he would know such couldn't be foolishness or a mistake on Jaune's part, which only left intent. Jaune wasn't even trying to hide that fact, as good as telling Ironwood that he knew they were being watched and didn't give a damn.

Such confidence. Such strength.

"Ironwood fears you," she said. And he was right to do so.

"I'm sure there are many things Ironwood fears," Jaune replied. "But I doubt I'm among them."

A joke for the cameras. A subtle jab at Ironwood. The General would be fuming to hear that and Jaune must have known it. Cinder laughed, delighted by his easy bravado. She and Tyrian and Watts had often verbally sparred and jabbed at one another, but never with the same level of skill. Tyrian was a battering ram of violence and Watts had been, for lack of a better word, a prick. He simply delighted in being rude and crass, never the intellectual he liked to portray himself as.

And now he's dead. Not smart enough to see that one coming, was he?

"You'll have to stay in your room when we're not around," Jaune remarked. "We don't want to cause problems for or with Ironwood. Either Glynda or I will…" He trailed off and sighed. "I will come and bring you to mealtimes."

Cinder smirked, wondering if Jaune knew her own games in antagonising Glynda. It was more than just showmanship or boredom. By alienating her so thoroughly, she created a working condition in which the woman would seek to deflect any moments of dealing with her unto Jaune, just like now. It meant she only had to work with him, further securing her position at his side and allowing her to see first-hand his plans unfold.

And what plans she was seeing. Only the hints at the moment, but the dust, Adam, the White Fang, the upheaval and even their little moment with the paparazzi outside. The fact she was here as well, flaunted before Ironwood and Atlas as their failure and Beacon's gain.

Jaune's plans were deep indeed.

That he wouldn't tell her what those plans were was troubling, but also understandable. He knew she would be watched, and so if she were to act too enthusiastically, she would be the point of weakness. It grated, but she could accept for now that she had to be kept in the dark. It made playing her part difficult, however.

His plan must be for me to act as I naturally would, she thought. If it were anything else, he'd have given her explicit instructions as he couldn't expect her to read his mind.

"Make sure you're on your best behaviour," he said for what had to be the twentieth time.

Too many times.

Why else would he continuously tell her to behave if he wasn't making a hint out of it? He knew she wasn't stupid – he as good as accepted her intellect was on a level comparable to his own – so repeating the instruction over and over couldn't be his way of informing her. Instead, he was trying to hint at something more.

Her eyes widened.

Did Jaune want her to act out?

Perhaps.

It was expected of her and Ironwood wouldn't be surprised, giving her the perfect excuse to act out and cause trouble. Nothing too bad, but enough to cause a ruckus and draw the General's attention. Draw it away from Jaune, perhaps.

Draw Ironwood's attention. Enable Jaune to move unnoticed. Of course, it's so obvious.

"You can count on me," she said, answering not his request to behave, but the hidden meaning beneath. Just to be sure, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look. "I shall be on my best behaviour if you wish it."

His eyes met hers.

He nodded firmly.

Message received. Cinder nodded back, letting go. For a moment, she felt she could glimpse his plan and then it faded away. Understandable. She had but the start of it in her head and would need to see more pieces before it fell into place.

One thing was for sure, however. By the end of this trip, Atlas would be firmly in their hands.

Cinder gonna Cinder.

Omake:

"Gentlemen." Roman tapped his papers on the desk. "Lady," he said, nodding to Kali. "Housecat," he finished, nodding to Sienna.

Sienna flipped him the bird.

"We have been left alone in charge of Beacon while our illustrious and highly unqualified leader goes off to deal with Atlas. I fear for their sanity. Worse still, we have been left without Glynda – highly overqualified for her role and basically the glue keeping the scattered pieces of this sorry school stuck together."

As if to emphasise that point, a Grimm roared as it hurtled past the window. Nora quickly followed, smashing it with her hammer. Ren slammed into the window like a bird and slid down, holding a sign saying `HELP US`.

Roman, Sienna, Bart and Peter ignored him.

Kali closed the blinds.

"Thank you, Mrs B. You're a treasure."

"Oh, Mr Roman, you're going to make a married woman blush."

"Ahem." Adjusting his collar, Roman smirked. "Anyway, we're being trusted with the maintenance and running of this school and we need to make good on this opportunity. The last thing we want is Jaune finding out how bad it's going and coming back."

"Question," Port said. "How is that a bad thing?"

Roman's answer was simple. "Cinder."

"Question retracted, my boy. Question retracted."

"Exactly. So long as he's in Atlas, she's in Atlas, and I'll be damned before I have to breathe the same air she does. Knowing my luck, she'd ignite it in my lugs. So… ideas on how to stop them finding out?"

"The CCT needs maintenance," Bart suggested, "We could be proactive and start that early."

"How would this help us!?" Roman asked.

"If it's under maintenance, no long-distance calls can be made, so Jaune and Glynda wouldn't be able to contact us. Of course, they can hardly blame us getting a head up on repair work that's necessary after the attack."

Roman stared at him. "Okay, I was expecting something more along the lines of actually fixing the mess we're in, and I'm sure not sure if it's good or bad that you've jumped straight to covering it up instead."

"It must be your first time," Port said.

"First time…?"

"Glynda's holiday breaks. Don't worry, lad, we have a whole scheme in place for this. The first step is to delay everything, and the second step is to agree to nothing. Parents want to discuss our teaching? Tell them Glynda handles it. Council wants to negotiate our budget for the next year? Tell them only Glynda can sign it off."

"Whole school in anarchy and Coco Adel crowning herself Queen of the West Wing?" Roman asked, jerking a thumb behind him. "Any ideas on that? Because that's what just happened. I don't even know how that happened, but it did and now I'm out of ideas…"

"Miss Adel must have been preparing her coup for a while," Bart mused. "Ah, such dedication. She really deserves credit for it."

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Focus, Oobleck. Focus!"

"We could negotiate with her," Sienna suggested.

"We don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Really? You're saying that to me of all people?"

"I don't negotiate with kids," Roman amended. "That brat – stylish as she is – is not Queen of Beacon and I do not bend knee to her." He punched the table. "The only ones I bend knee to are Jaune, Neo and Lisa Lavender – and only the latter in the privacy of a bedroom and after a good drink. Also, we currently have a bloody rave going on in the cafeteria and the dinner staff are on strike."

"A rave?"

Roman held a hand up for silence. A distant beat and a tss-tss-tss was audible. It dropped hard, falling into an EDM Dubstep remix that rocked the foundations of the school. Meanwhile, on the lawns outside, the faculty staff were protesting not the rave, but the choice of music.

`Dubstep is the music of the Grimm` a placard read.

`Hip-Hop or death`, another said.

A third simply noted, `Stay off the Grass`.

Not everyone had time to find or make suitable signs, but the woman waving it had spirit and it wasn't like anyone inside the cafeteria could read them past the blinding neon strobe lighting piercing out the windows.

"What the hell happened, Oobleck?" Roman growled. "I sent you to secure the cafeteria!"

"I did," Oobleck said defensively, pointing behind him.

"YOU SECURED THE KETTLE!" Roman roared. "YOU SECURED COFFEE!"

Oobleck blinked, "You mean there's more to the cafeteria than coffee?"

Roman slammed his head on the table.

"You didn't know?" Port asked Oobleck. "What do you eat, man?"

"Eat? Why, coffee, of course. What else would I eat?"

"Damn it," Roman groaned. "Can this day get any worse?"

"Oh my," Kali said, peeking through the blinds. "It seems Miss Valkyrie has opened her own Grimm rodeo and is offering prizes who can ride the Beowolf the longest. Oh wait, Russel just got gored. I hope he's okay. Oh wait, he's standing – and the Beowolf is on him. Ooh. Now it's turned into wrestling. Wow, that's a lot of blood."

Roman whined through his teeth.

"Don't take it so seriously," Peter said, slapping his back. "These things are expected."

"How is complete anarchy expected?"

"Beacon is a school for huntsmen and huntresses, who are encouraged to be idealistic, individualistic and spontaneous." Port held Roman close, sweeping his other hand out as if admiring a sunset. "We teach them to be themselves and to fight for what they believe in, not to be held down by rules or expectation. Our world is one where death is expected and survival earned through sweat and blood, so why not let them enjoy themselves every once in a while? No one can expect us to crush their youthful spirits."

"I've a feeling Glynda will," Roman muttered, his cheek pressed up against Port's. "And that she'll hold us – and by us, I mean me – responsible for this."

"Roman," Oobleck said. "We held out as long as we could, but without Glynda's discipline, it was inevitable the students would take over."

"It's been fifteen minutes!" Roman shrieked. "Glynda and Jaune left not a quarter of an hour ago!"

"Fifteen long and dangerous minutes alone in the wilderness of Beacon," Oobleck said, nodding his head as if experiencing fifteen years in the trenches of some distant war. "We did our best and no one can fault us for this happening. In the end, we are but professional huntsmen and adults and they are inexperienced children. How could we have ever held the line?"

"You… I… Gah…" Roman tore a cigar from his pocket, fiddled for the lighter, gave up and ate it. "You lot piss me off so much right now."

A strong knock at the door sounded before an envelope was pushed through the bottom. Roman was too busy chewing on tobacco, so Sienna went up to pick it up, cutting through the seam with a claw and pulling out the paper within.

"Coco Adel demands our surrender," she read. "Her terms include a better dress code, more variety in skirts, a fashion budget for every student and… am I reading this right? Tighter pants for the boys so she can see that hot huntsman ass." Sienna sighed. "Failure to comply will result in them storming the staff room."

"Cheeky brat," Roman growled. "Well, it's come to this." He drew his weapon. "I'll be damned if I go down to some hormonal teen who thinks wearing sunglasses indoors is cool. I'll fight 'til the last if I have to. Who's with me?"

He turned back as he said it, quickly seeing Peter and Bart tying Bart's white shirt to a pole to make a makeshift surrender flag.

"I hate you all…"

Welcome to Beacon, Roman. Enjoy your stay in the madhouse.

Yang will be upset she missed the insurrection, though I'm sure she'll approve of the changes to the dress code. Truly, Coco speaks for all of us. And a rave isn't any less problematic than what RWBY and JNPR did to the cafeteria, so… yeah. Still safer for the staff than canon. xD

Next Chapter: 12th December

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur