"Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn."
-Benjamin Franklin
Chapter Four: Field Training
The transport truck hit yet another bump, tossing Jaune again into the air, his rear end hitting the hard wooden bench, leaving another sore spot.
"Third bump in a row Jaune!" yelled out Thistle from across him. "Your ass starting to hurt yet?"
"No!" he yelled back, gripping his rifle with white knuckles, "at least not yet..."
"I thought we would be given better shit than this!" shouted Thistle, his face filled with pain. "I thought we could just buy shit off Atlas, like their trucks!"
"It's because we're recruits and decent trucks are obviously too expensive to give to us," said Vi, having heard them. "I've driven piles of trash that are better than this thing!"
"I remember you stealing the worst junk ever," said Lavender from beside Jaune, rolling her eyes. "Thing would break down every block. How did you just happen to pick the worst car in the block out of all of them there, how?"
"You stole shit?" asked Thistle, head spinning to face Vi beside him. Lavender scrunched up her face, realizing what she just said.
Vi paused, giving a deadpan look at Lavender, "Me and Lav here used to live on the streets. We did what we did to get by."
Jaune shrugged, it wasn't like his story was much better. Forgery was still a crime, "Hey, you let my past roll, don't really care about yours."
"Awww," cooed Lavender, "thanks Jaune, I feel so gratified."
He was almost fooled, but he saw her wide grin and amused eyes. Shoving her with his shoulder, he rolled his eyes in return, "Mind not giving me snark Lav?"
Vi and Thistle sniggered, sharing a knowing look between them.
"What?"Jaune asked, leaning back and putting out a questioning hand. "You guys have been doing this forever, what's the joke?"
Thistle cheerfully slapped his hand down, trying in vain to hide his smile, "Ah, you'll get it when you get it."
The truck slowed to a stop, the engine still running. Peering outside the cabin, they were just at a bar gate, manned by uniformed Contractors. Their transport lurched forward, into a small motorpool.
"Everyone dismount!" shouted Moss, walking forwards towards the trucks. "Get in formation in front of the other Instructors!"
Jaune leapt out of the truck, slinging the slim rifle on his back. Early morning sun bright on the horizon, the dust gently floated around the open area. He stepped into a small dirt clearing, surrounded by large green tents, their flaps flopping gently in the light wind. Concrete walls formed a square around the group of tents and watchtowers dotted the four corners. In one corner was a small stack of shipping containers, painted in various dull colours.
Moss walked in front of them, his beret was replaced with a ballcap, "Alright recruits, welcome to your final field training exercise. This will be a test of everything you've learned over your time here, and will also assess leadership abilities. I'll be assigning you a platoon leader, chosen from among you guys. We'll be rotating you out of this position frequently to assess everyone's abilities."
Pulling out a list from his pocket, Moss cleared his throat, "And the first victim will be… Recruit Jaune Arc."
"Warrant!" Coming to attention, he fell out of formation and walked over to Moss, his boots padding along the dusty ground.
"Okay Arc, come with me, I'll brief your first mission here," said Moss, turning away and leading the duo to a table with a map, and some documents. The map featured rolling hills and deep forests, a few particular steep hills here and there, but not that many. A river split the area down the middle, three bridges the only crossing point over it. Roads streaked across the space, with three main ones merging and splitting at several points.
"The enemy you'll be facing is a similar size force like you. They're recruits also on their final FTX. Your opposition is transporting a VIP via a convoy from here," he pointed to a spot on the left side of the map, where it was marked as a FOB. His voice was monotone, void of emotion, "to grid zero-four-niner-two, six-two-three-one, they'll be stepping off at 1200 hours. The VIP will be wearing a distinct red beret. I won't say anything else on that, that's up to you."
Moss pulled out a sheet of paper from his breast pocket, unfolding it in front of Jaune, "Of course, your friendly forces are what you have here," he waved a hand at the platoon. "You'll have no support during this operation except when you get close to the FOB. There are multiple platoons on the same exercise, so anyone that you encounter will be considered hostile."
"Your mission as platoon leader will be to ambush the convoy, and seize the VIP and bring them back to base. You won't, however, be allowed within five kilometres of their start and endpoint." Moss handed him the sheet of paper. "On there is all of what I just said but on paper."
Studying the map, there were three natural choke points, but only one paved road. He could maybe send teams to block the roads to force the convoy down one road…
"Will we be allowed any additional equipment from the armoury?" nodding to the armoury building, likely filled with all sorts of weapons and toys.
Moss scratched his chin, "Of course, just no drones, gotta keep some challenge in this."
Jaune raised an eyebrow.
"We locked the drones away, so there'll be no need to worry about them anyways, you should probably start planning the operation so you know what you'll be doing," Moss turned around and walked towards the other instructors.
Oh, he'd be planning alright, just also not in the way they wanted him to.
They didn't know, but Jaune had seen a few instructors bringing a locked crate from the armoury to a shipping container. There also just happened to be someone in his platoon who was excellent at sneaking into places, and someone else who happened to know how to operate drones. He'd pull them to the side later so they could get to it, but right now? He needed to plan.
Pulling out a notepad and pencil, he started writing furiously. Checking his watch, he had about three hours to get everything done. It'd be a stretch, but enough time.
/ - /
This is so stupid.
Cedric thought trying to steal something the Instructors specifically told them to not to use was extremely stupid, if not suicidal. Sure the Instructors had laid off on beasting them every night, but they certainly weren't going easy on them.
Still, Cedric went ahead with the plan.
Cedric strolled to the tent Jaune thought the drones were hidden, a flat red shipping container, the paint scratched and scraped off. Curiously, there weren't any Instructors keeping watch over it, just a simple padlock. Checking around him, he was covered by the other containers, and with Jaune distracting the Instructors, he was in the clear. Removing his lockpick set, gained from a misspent past.
Taking one last glance around, he kneeled down and started his work. The lock was just like any other, flawed and easily picked. Military grade sounded good until you realized militaries loved spending the least amount of money possible. Private Militaries also had a bottom line to worry about, which didn't make things any better. The lock clicked open, and the door swung opened.
He stepped in, green crates lined the left side of the container. It would've been too convenient for a box to be just marked "Drone Here" in big red flashing letters, so he began looking around. Walking down the aisle, he clicked on his flashlight, breath catching.
And there it was, a folded up drone on top of a crate.
It was too good to be true, but Cedric snatched it up regardless and shoved it into his day pack. Checking behind him again, there was still no one.
"Jaune you crazy bastard..." he muttered under his breath, heaving his day pack over his shoulder. The blonde asshole was crazy, but usually, his gambles were successful.
He didn't want to test his luck and got out of there as quickly as possible.
Stepping out, he found him face to face with one of the auxiliary staff, a slip-on saying he was a Corporal on his vest.
Shit.
The man blinked, "Who are you?"
Cedric urged his semblance to go to work for once to his benefit for once, and not just fucking up everything like it usually did, "I was just getting something for the recruits that just came in, training staff told me to."
The Corporal's eyes narrowed for a moment, before glazing over again, "Alright, carry on then. I was just here to grab something too."
Cedric laughed, not a hint of nervousness in his tone. Jaunting off confidently, he just hoped the Corporal wouldn't ask about it later. He really needed to reconsider being teammates with Jaune, he wouldn't live that long if these were the type of plans he came up with.
/ - /
"Frost 1-2 Bravo, this is Actual," Jaune said into his radio handset, taken off the backpack radio strapped to Finch's back.
"Roger Actual, the route is blocked with the tree as you wanted," came the voice of Thistle over the radio.
"Acknowledged, 1-2 Alpha, SITREP, over."
Jay spoke this time, "Actual, this is Alpha, route blocked, over."
Despite his arrogance and refusal to listen to others, Jay was still the best choice in the section for leading excluding Thistle or Jaune. The others were either unwilling to lead, or not confident enough. For what Jaune had in mind, Jay was dependable enough to do it.
"Finch, you got the convoy?" he asked the sixteen-year-old beside him. Finch was glued to the drone screen, the clicking of the tablet the only indication of what he was doing.
"Convoy is on course, it'll come up to the first diversion soon."
He had seen who the enemy platoon commander was through the drone when they started heading out. The little he remembered about the man was that he liked to go as fast as possible, and would cut corners as much as possible. He fully intended to take advantage of it. Blocking the roads with trees was risky, if his opponent caught on they wouldn't be able to set up another proper ambush point in time, risking the opposition escaping or pushing through.
The weather reports said the area had been windy the past twenty four hours and was still gusting past the camouflaged contractors hidden in the dirt. Hopefully, they were expecting roads to be blocked and wouldn't be suspicious of the trees conveniently blocking their alternate paths. He was entirely wagering on whether the enemy commander would be able to see through his trick or not. Luckily the roads that would let cars drive on them were few and in between in the training area, making his job much easier.
"Actual, this is 1-2 Bravo, message, over." crackled the radio handset.
Jaune brought it to his face and depressed the button, "1-2 Bravo, Actual, send it."
"Target has bypassed blocking point one, over."
A sigh of relief escaped his lips, "Acknowledged Bravo, once they get some distance, start moving back to the Rally Point One."
"Roger that, 1-2 Bravo out."
Now all he had to do was wait. Wait and hope his plan was successful.
Besides him were the other sections, camouflaged in the deep brush of the forest. When he gave the signal, the machine gunners would open up, and the assault team would push forward towards the vehicles. The bend in the road concealed a team of machine gunners, laden with their belt feds and anti-tank weapons. The rocket launchers themselves would shoot a mock projectile that the training vehicles would detect, and then automatically disable themselves.
"Actual, this is 1-2 Alpha, target has bypassed blocking point two, over."
He reached for the handset yet again, "Acknowledged, collapse back to Rally Point One, over."
"Roger, 1-2 Alpha out."
Jaune switched his hand to the local radio on his chest, his voice a whisper now, a gentle rumble in the distance, "All callsigns, this is Actual, convoy is five minutes out. Maintain light and noise discipline, out."
There was a mock mine buried in the middle of the road, which would fire off like a firecracker when activated. Setting off the ambush, it would disable the front vehicle. A rocket launcher would be used to disable the rear vehicle, effectively trapped the convoy in place.
The rumble of the trucks grew closer, a small dust plume visible in the distance. His rifle came to rest on his shoulder, his other hand grasping the radio handset. His eyes tracked the lead truck coming into view. The open top back revealed Contractors with their rifles bristling outwards, their faces hard and searching the dense brush. It was only a few metres before the mine…
The lead truck stopped, the driver yelling something out. The troops in the back reacted with surprise, vaulting over the side of the truck, some landing flat on their face.
"Execute, execute, execute!" he screamed into his mic, gripping his rifle tightly.
Rockets flew out from the forest line, the mock rounds stopping just short of the trucks. Electricity arced from the missiles, disabling the engines. Machines guns barked, tracers skipping around the beleaguered enemy. The lead truck was decimated by the concentrated fire, paralyzed bodies littering the ground. The second truck had more time to react, taking cover behind their truck.
"Assault team, push forward," he ordered over the radio. Squeezing the trigger, stun rounds flew from his rifle, forcing an enemy Contractor to take cover. His aim wasn't the best, but he had other people for that, didn't he?
The assault team pushed forward with a vengeance, taking the enemy off guard and ripping into their flank. The Contractors rushed forward, their rifles snapping to targets in a flash. Their skills at point shooting let them tear through the distracted enemy forces with ease, switching from one target to the target in an instant.
Soon, the smoke cleared and all that remained was the victorious ambushers.
Jaune stood up and warily approached the vehicles. The assault team was pushing around a small group of prisoners, who were captured stumbling around disorientated from all the chaos. They would leave them here for the Instructors to come later and unlock their training rigs. Likely the enemy platoon would be unlocked within an hour of them leaving and sent on another mission.
Jaune walked up to the assault team leader, a tall man with a cropped beard on his face, "Do we have the VIP?"
The section leader pointed to the end of the convoy, at the gathering of Contractors, "Over there Arc." he chuckled, "The VIP is a bit of surprise, so you should go see for yourself."
Jaune pulled Finch along to see just who the VIP was. Arriving at the cluster of Contractors, they parted to reveal a grinning Warrant Officer Moss, wearing a scarlet red beret adorned with the crossed lightning bolt cap badge of Striker Group.
"Moss?"
The Instructor glared at him, lighting a cigarette in his mouth.
"Uh, Warrant Officer?"
"Better," grunted Moss, "gotta say Arc, good job on the ambush. Maybe less explosives next time if you're trying to take someone alive. Like myself."
"Yes Warrant," grinned Jaune. Yanking the handset off of Finch's back, he switched it to transmit to the entire platoon. "All callsigns, this is Actual. Move to Rally Point One. Column formation, 1-1 will cover the flanks, move out. 1-2 will meet us on the way there, out."
Jaune checked his ammo again. He'd only spent a magazine and a half in the engagement, it was a short firefight, ending as fast as it started. He hadn't had all that much time to engage. The platoon reformed into their travel formation, a long line of Contractors, and two four-man teams flanking the column. He gave the signal to move out, and the Contractors stepped off, leaving the small scene of carnage behind.
/ - /
"I hate to admit this," said Jay from beside him, walking alongside him, slinging a light machine gun, "but you're a better leader than me."
Jaune turned his head to the giant man, "Yeah? Everyone already kind of knew that."
They were close, only a metre apart. If an enemy was to attack, they could take both him and Jay down at once. But Jaune didn't really expect any enemy contact on the way back to the FOB, the drone or flank guards would warn them anyway. A long march back to the FOB with no one to talk to would've been especially dull.
Jay rolled his eyes, the heavy equipment pouches bouncing up and down from his jaunty gait, "I'm trying to apologize and you do this shit? Thanks."
"Sorry," laughed Jaune, covering his mouth with a hand, "continue on."
"Yeah, well I'm sorry for being such a dick early on. Guess I just felt like I had a lot to prove back then."
Jaune shot a quizzical look at him, "Prove what?"
"Remember when I said I used to go to Beacon?"
"Yeah, not hard to remember something like that," something wet and moist stained Jaune's eyes. Reaching his hand up, it was a liquid, tears. Sniffing his nose, he cleaned up his face before anyone could see.
"Well, I failed initiation," said Jay, looking off in the distance. "I failed Initiation and my family disowned me. My family come from a long line of Huntsmen, and to fail Initiation is something unheard of." his tone became bitter and mournful, "To avoid 'tainting' the bloodline, I was cast from the family. Guess my brother got in, good for him."
His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. What was he going to say against that? Jay's family sounded terrible! Nothing like his own, loving, caring, and supporting…
Yeah, his family.
Jaune's voice cracked imperceivably, "Guess that explains a lot."
"Don't blame my brother for what he did to you. Our upbringing was… harsh to say the least." said Jay, not noticing his voice cracking. "After I got disowned, I spent a few years wandering around 'til I found out about this."
"Well, now you're here, and that's what matters," he said, readjusting his backpack for what was the tenth time already.
Trudging along in the mud, the rain pattered on his helmet. The previous sunny day was overshadowed by a sudden shift in the weather. It had been raining since they had left the ambush site, leaving them wet and miserable, even in their parkas. It didn't help the fog had dropped visibility next to zero, which made another force sneaking up on them easy. However, that meant the enemy force had to find them first, which Jaune thought unlikely with the conditions, they couldn't hear anything over the rain. They were blind and deaf.
Nearly blind and deaf.
They still had the drone, flying stalwartly in the air. The thermals could penetrate the thick fog, so Jaune was relying on them to give him advance warning.
"All callsigns, this is Actual, navigation stop, out," he said on his radio, taking a knee in the sludge underneath him.
He tugged on a map from one of his pouches. Encased in a waterproof seal, the rain couldn't do much to ruin it. Clicking on his redlight, he traced his finger along the planned route. It would take them through a narrow passage between two marshes. It wasn't preferable, but walking through the marsh would take too much time, and going around would take more time than it would be worth it. It wasn't like there would be much chance of contact anyways, he doubted any enemy platoon would find them in the fog.
"1-1, Actual, position check, over."
"Actual, 1-1, fifty metres past Checkpoint Red, over."
"Roger 1-1," they were not that far from the checkpoint then, and so not that far from the FOB. It wouldn't take that much longer before they switched commanders. "All callsigns, this is Actual, resume movement, out."
Moss came up behind him, his red beret a spotlight in the lush environment, "Planning to push through that?"
"Not really expecting contact, so we're just going to push through the passage back to the FOB," Jaune said, putting his map away and standing up. Starting to trudge through the muddy hills again, he remembered just how much he hated the field. The rain made it worse, soaking all his equipment and weighing everything down.
"Hmph," was all Moss had to say, worrying Jaune, just a little.
He signalled for Finch to stay close. Moss' reaction worried him, he wanted the drone feed to be close to him.
The next part of the march was silent, the only sound the rain's sound beat on the top of their helmets, and the soft mud clinging to their boots as they wade through the soggy mess. Jaune turned his head up at the marsh to their left and right. It suddenly occurred to him that the water would provide an ample hiding spot for any would be attackers, and it would also hide any thermals. Glancing around, the foliage around them could hide any number of ambushers.
He reached up for his radio, depressing the Push To Talk button, "All callsigns, this is Actual, assume travelling overwatch, push through this area as fa-"
His radio call was interrupted by the burst of machine gunfire. Jaune dove to the ground, his face smacking right into the mud. He looked back at Finch, who was scrambling for his drone tablet, "How did you not see them?"
Finch's eyes were wild behind his glasses, shakingly turning on the tablet, "I- I don't know! I wasn't checking! The drone can't see into the water!"
Moss was lying next to them. He raised an eyebrow "What was that about a drone?"
"I'll ta- fuck!" yelped Jaune, a bullet skipped by his head. "-about it later Warrant!"
The man shrugged casually, not bothered by the gunfire, "Fair."
He snaked an arm to his radio, pressing himself against the ground in an effort to hide from the machine gun fire, "This is Actual, assault through the ambush, 1-1 lay down fire on the enemy positions, over!"
He received affirmatives from his section leaders. Going up on a knee, he centred his rifle on one of the muzzle flashes in the distance, squeezing off a burst. He turned back to his section, already returning fire at the ambushers.
Tapping Thistle on his shoulder, he shouted to be heard over the gunfire, "We're going to do a bounding overwatch through the killzone, you got me?"
Thistle nodded, and shouted to the rest of the section what they were going to do.
"Set!" yelled Thistle, kneeling down and firing his rifle.
Jaune sprinted away, "Moving!"
His gear was heavy, his rucksack weighing him down with weight he didn't want in a firefight. His breath became laboured as he kneeled down, telling Thistle to move again. Finch was just behind him, his backpack radio only making him a target.
The sections fired and maneuvered, suppressing and withdrawing, performing well rehearsed battle drills. Jaune didn't need to micromanage his sections then, it would only hinder them. The ambush force had to be a similar size force to his, and with their preparation and element of surprise, counter attacking would only result in more casualties.
It wasn't long before the platoon was out of the ambush area, albeit with a few casualties. The unfortunate Contractors hit anywhere with a stun round, rendered immobile. The few that were hit had to be carried on the back of others, much to their chagrin. Being stripped of your mobility was a strange feeling, and one Jaune didn't relish.
They were still being fired on, the enemy platoon at the edge of the swamp. A machine gunner next to him went cyclic on his weapon, the ratatatatata roaring, "Eat shit guys!"
"You're good, fall back," he tapped his fellow contractor on his shoulder. The man looked up and nodded, snatching up his machine gun and sprinting back.
The ambush had ended as soon as it started, his platoon well out of the killzone at this point. It wasn't long before the gunfire settled down, and all was quiet again.
"All callsigns, this is Actual, assume course back to the FOB. Keep high alert for any tangoes, out," he ordered over the radio, his deep blue eyes searching the brush around them.
The column resumed its movement, their number reduced, and remainder wary of their surroundings. Jaune cursed his decision to move through the chokepoints. He remembered what Moss had said about multiple platoons in the area. Of course they would task another platoon to try and ambush theirs, it was just what the Instructors would do. That also included making Moss the VIP, the bastards.
"So what was this about a drone?" asked Moss from behind him. Jaune jumped and swore loudly, earning a chuckle from Moss. "Ah don't worry about it, if I didn't want you to have it, I wouldn't have mentioned it and just hid the thing."
"Wait, what?" his head twisted around in surprise, to see a grinning Moss. "Oh, of course, you would do something like that, say it's 'testing my ability to improvise' or something like that. I swear Warrant, you always do the craziest of shit."
"Spot on Arc."
Jaune rolled his eyes, still trudging along in the mud. The FOB was visible in the distance, a short jaunt away and they would have a break, or at least hopefully a break. The platoon would likely change commanders, and then he wouldn't have to be stressed out from planning everything. Calm himself with the sensation of being a grunt with a rifle.
He adjusted his backpack again, the pack slipping out of his arms again. His slim rifle in his hands, he almost felt at home.
Almost.
/ - /
"Parade! By the center, quick, march!" called out the parade commander, a Major who had been assigned to training command years ago. The bright sun high in the sky, the parade ground situated in the parade square of their training base. The white bleachers filled with family members, guests, and others off to the side.
The proud men and women marched forward, arms swinging. Their berets were sharp, and their uniforms clean and pressed. If someone looked closely, they would make out a shock of blonde hair in the middle of the formations. Jaune Arc kept his eyes straight and forward. This was his graduation parade. He didn't come into training thinking it would end with a rather grandiose parade, but Striker Group built itself on a former military member, and traditions seeped through.
"Parade! Halt!" the bang of the sharp parade boots resounded against the concrete pavement. "Right, turn!"
The parade turned around in sync, their well practiced rehearsals coming to mind. Jaune's eyes stared straight ahead at the wall, disciplined enough to not let his eyes wander. The parade commander was going through his pomp and ceremony, not much that Jaune cared for, but tradition was important in someone's heart. A man walked out in front of the parade, a general rank on the sleeves of his dress uniform.
"I present to you, your reviewing officer, Commander Slate Redwood," announced the Major, saluting the Commander as he passed by.
Thistle stiffened up beside him, an odd expression taking to his face. Wait, this was his dad, right? God, this must be awkward for him.
The Major gave some orders, and before long, the reviewing officer was at his platoon, studying the Contractors with a great deal of interest.
"Hello son," murmured the Commander, stopping at Thistle.
Thistle's eyes darted around, he choked out his response, "Hi, dad."
The Commander nodded somberly, "I heard you were graduating today, so I took some time to drop by, I'll catch up with you later."
Thistle choked something back as his dad walked away. Commander Redwood's eyes lingered on Jaune for a moment, before going on to the next Contractor in formation. Redwood continued on with his inspection, before finishing long after Jaune felt his legs would hold standing still for so long.
The Major came to the front of the parade, "I'd like to call up the top recruit of each course, to begin, we'll have course 0241, Recruit Jaune Arc."
"Sir!" he yelled out, falling out and marching to the front. Halting in front of Commander Redwood, the weary eyes spoke for themselves. Redwood had done his fair share of work in the field. Jaune snapped a brisk salute which was returned by the Commander.
"Good work Recruit Arc," Redwood said, reaching out for a handshake. "Hear you're friends with my son."
Jaune took the handshake, the other hand holding the award of Top Recruit, a plaque filled with names of other past Top Recruits. He turned around to face the camera, and smiled a little, "Thank you sir, he was one of my first friends here."
The man smiled, looking at the camera taking their picture, "Well good luck with whatever's next son."
"Thank you," he stepped back, saluted, then turned away. He caught a glimpse of a cluster of bright blond hair in the benches. His body involuntarily stiffened up as he marched back into formation. He'd have to deal with his parents soon, and he didn't relish the thought of talking to his mom after running off not once, but two times.
They called up the other Top Recruits, awarding them their respective awards. After all was said and done, the Major spoke, "Before we end off the parade for today, the Reviewing Officer would like to have a few words, sir."
Commander Redwood stepped forward to the podium, the Major stepping aside, "Hello everyone, I'll try and keep this short. I came here today to see the next generations of men and women ready to serve and protect. I have to say, I'm impressed. I see proud young men and women, all coming from wherever they have shaped into what you are today. Remember what you're fighting for, we are not just your average mercenaries. Our military roots go deep and far, we serve to protect people from Grimm, and those who seek to do harm."
His eyes scanned over the rows of Contractors with a penetrating gaze, "We are Striker Group, we don't care who you were, just that you're here now. Your new journey starts now Recruits."
Commander Redwood stepped back from the podium, the Major taking his place. He shouted a few commands, readying everyone in formation to march off the parade square.
"Parade! By the center, quick march!"
Arms swinging, the Contractors marched proudly, their arms held high. Soon they were dismissed to find their families. Jaune wandered to the benches, the mass of people wandering around trying to find their loved ones. It couldn't be that hard trying to find his family, a large group of blonde people wouldn't be that hard to spot, would it? He searched fruitlessly, the wall of grey, and an assortment of other colours. Maybe it would be harder than he thought.
"JAUNE!" a small voice came from his side.
Wait, that soun-
He didn't have any more time to think before a blonde blur smashed into him. Recovering the next second, he reached down to the arms reached around his waist, an adorable face staring back at him.
"Heh, hey Amber, how have you been?" he said. He ruffled her hair with a smile on his face.
Amber let go of him and dropped onto the ground, crossing her arms. Pouting cutely, her attempt at looking upset fell short, "Good! But you ran away!"
His smile fell, he idly ruffled her hair thinking of a way to respond. He looked up to see his entire family waiting there expectedly. He waved sheepishly, "Um, hi?"
Juniper Arc stormed up to him, "Oh don't you 'Um, hi?' me! You had me worried sick!" she grasped his shoulders, checking him over. "Have you been eating well? Have you been taking care of yourself? What have you gotten yourself into Jaune? Getting yourself into this PMC business is no good at all! My, you look so skinny, are you sure you were eating well?"
Nicholas Arc put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "June, I'm sure Jaune took care of himself."
Regardless, she patted him down, babbling about his health. Jaune interrupted her and pulled her in for a hug.
"Love you, mom," he mumbled into her shoulder.
Cooing from beside him, he stepped back to see all of his sisters there, gathered all around him. They all swarmed him at once, checking out his uniform and his new physique. He tried to bite back a laugh at his sister worrying all about him, but failed anyways.
"Woah what's this?" asked Sable, her blonde hair flopping around. She grabbed the crossed lightning bolt patch on his shoulder. "'Strike hard, strike fast' man that sounds cheesy!"
Jaune just shrugged, "Our motto, fits with the lightning bolts."
"Now Jaune, what was this all about running off to a PMC?" asked his dad, a humourless smile on his face. "I won't judge you for it, but my experience with Contractors hasn't been the best."
Another voice from the behind, "Well Arc, I would think this is your family."
Jaune unconsciously stiffened up, "Warrant!"
Moss walked up to the group, "Are you going to introduce me or not Arc?"
He quickly introduced everyone in his family, pointing a finger between all of them. Moss' eyes narrowed at the sight of his seven sisters, then shook his head. He apologized if he forgot anyone's name, and shot a forgiving look at Jaune. There was no way a man could stay sane with seven sisters. Shaking hands with Nicholas, he introduced himself, "I'm Warrant Officer Moss. I was Chief Instructor for Arc's course."
"Nice to meet you Moss," said Nicholas, pumping his hand up and down. "I'll be upfront, I haven't had the best experience with mercenaries."
"Nicholas!" said Juniper, slapping her husband. "That's no way to talk to anyone!'
Moss laughed, crossing his arms, "Can't say that's the first or last time I've ever heard that. But I'll say this, Striker Group instills a sense of morality into our guys. We started from a lot of ex-military guys who wanted to do something about the world but didn't want to do it manning the walls. So they started up Striker Group, and went from there."
"Hm," Nicholas stared into Moss' eyes for a second, before breaking off, "I'll take your word on that. How did Jaune do?"
"Good I'll say, but don't let that go to your head Arc. The training staff have recommended he be sent to a leadership course after his trades qualification, so he's got that going for him," his eyes were filled with mirth, enjoying the growing expression of disbelief on Jaune's face.
"Wait, what?" Jaune said, his eyes wide.
"That's right, and I hear you're going armoured recce?"
Jaune's mouth opened and shut in incredulity, "Yes Warrant."
"Hmph," commented Moss, checking his nails casually, "I happen to have a background in that, all of the Instructors here do. We all just happened to get a warning order to get ready to help stand up a new unit, it'll be an interesting enough experience."
Jaune's face blanched. That would mean his training staff were going to be his leadership. Jaune didn't really know if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. He just hoped for the former.
Moss simply grinned, pulling a black bag from behind his back, "You'll be getting your personal belongings back soon, I figured you'd want this back as soon as possible."
Jaune caught the bag, not flinching like he would have a few weeks again. The familiar weight of it and the soft shape of the item held within meant only one thing. He drew Crocea Mors out of the duffle bag, the gleam glinting off the metallic blade. Already Moss had turned away, off to talk to other recruits.
"Interesting character," grunted Nicholas, turning back to Jaune. "I see you've taken Crocea Mors."
When Jaune tried to give it back to him, Nicholas stopped him and pushed it back into his arms, "It's your sword now son. It's been a tradition for Hunters of the family to wield it. You're not a Huntsman, but I suppose it's close enough. It'll serve you well son, I hoped I wouldn't have to pass it on, but here we are. I tried to keep you from this, but you've been a real stubborn one." Nicholas looked mournfully at him, a wistful expression etched on his face.
Jaune strapped Crocea Mors to his belt, the reassuring weight back by his side, "What do you mean to keep me from this?"
"That's a story for another time son," said Nicholas, pulling Jaune into a hug. He whispered into Jaune's ear. "I'll tell you dinner with the family."
"Dinner?"
Juniper firmly gripped his shoulder, preventing any hope of his escape, "Mhm, did you think you could get away from us that easily? We still need to catch up!"
Judging from her smile, and the barely held back laughter of his sisters, this wasn't going to be fun for him. Still, he put on a smile. He hadn't spent time with his family in forever, and he was going to savour this.
"Yeah, let's go."
Moving along, soon we'll get started with the actual plot.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, if you have anything to say, please leave a review. Stay safe, and stay in quarantine.
Also, you may have noticed that I took Jaune's family from Coeur Al l'Aran, which I did. So I'll give credit to him.
One last note, if you feel like the characters are changing pretty quickly, keep in mind there's been massive timeskips been chapters, which should end soon enough.
I'll see you in the next chapter.