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Scrublord Yoda

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As always, Vale by the afternoon light was… A sight to behold, to say the least. Orange light glinted like fire off skyscrapers housing everything from offices, to hospitals, to apartments, and even a few buildings he knew manufactured ammunition and weapon parts on factories that climbed up dozens of stories tall. High-class housing complexes matched them a block away, linked by half a dozen sky-walkways dotted by block airship landing zones for smaller transport craft, carrying whatever they needed to carry up the buildings. Some of the buildings even had wide outcroppings, like cliffs, with trees and pools for people to relax around.

The lives of the rich, he supposed… Spent crammed into highrises with little samples of the world stuck off the side to enjoy. So unlike the manors of the lords and ladies out in the frontier, sprawling across land as a mark of pride.

"Jaune?" He turned to Pyrrha, standing beside him in the Bullhead they'd taken out of Beacon. She craned her head to look out of the window curiously and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Why would anything be wrong…?"

"You were scowling, Arc." Weiss answered quietly from the front of the craft where she was leaning against the hull, arms folded anxiously. "Quite fiercely, I might add. Like when you look at Winchester."

"Hm…" He shrugged and turned away from the window, leaning back against the hull behind him like Weiss was. "I was just thinking."

"Well that's dangerous…"

"Oh, ha ha, Schnee." Jaune chuckled, waving her off when he saw her bristle at the name. "Sorry, Weiss, just… I was thinking about home, kind of."

"Ah." She blinked and smiled, and he felt some strange kind of sympathy from her through it. Nodding curtly, she said, "I do that too, often enough. Though Atlas looks very different to Vale, the skyline at night can make me… Reminisce, I suppose would be the word, though I confess the memories aren't exactly great."

"Yeah, I imagine life in a house full of Schnees wouldn't be great." Mort offered quietly, "Sounds cold…"

Part of him wondered if Mort was making a pun, but… Well, even Mort had standards. And he expected now would not be one of the times they thought it would be funny to make a clever little quip.

"Do you… Want to talk about it?" Pyrrha asked quietly, and awkwardly. Weiss raised a brow and the woman's shoulders scrunched up nervously. "I just… If you were upset, I mean. I have been told that, sometimes, when people are upset it helps for them to-"

"No." Weiss cut her off, smiling and chuckling quietly. Still smiling, she said, "Thank you, but this is not a thing I need to talk about, Pyrrha. Just… Being here, away from Atlas, is more than enough for me."

"Then I'm glad you're here with us, Weiss." Jaune said with a warm smile, cocking his head as their pilot chimed in to let them know they were landing. Curious, he asked, "Why did you come out with us, though?"

"To escape from Yang and Blake's cuddling." She answered immediately, chuckling and shaking her head wearily. "More seriously, I… Felt an urge to contact my sister, and see how she is doing."

"She lives in Atlas, I suppose?"

"Yes. Or, well, at least nominally, but she doesn't live at the Schnee house. And has not for some time, either." Weiss explained quietly, gaze growing distant as she went on. "She left the manor years ago to join the military, and now she's a Specialist, so she moves around on assignment. I got a message from her a while ago saying she'd be in the area, so… I'm hoping to call her. Catch up."

"That's good." Pyrrha offered gently, "I'm happy you have the chance."

"As am I." Weiss murmured wistfully as the Bullhead shuddered to a landing. "As am I…"

The Valean Bullhead docks they landed at were the primary ones Beacon Academy used, with a dozen Bullhead transports ferrying cargo, staff, visitors and students to and fro constantly. Owned as a public utility of the city itself, the docks were reinforced and bunker-like, able to serve as an evacuation and defensive point in case of Grimm incursions. Each landing bay was sequestered inside a large, square hangar with a tall, metal dome that closed in the craft's wake. The rooms themselves were large, with all the amenities for minor repairs and resupply as needed for the craft, and space for goods to be stored and persons to wait for transport.

The wide space would also be useful in case of attack, for storage and space for those hiding inside.

Beacon kept around eight bays like these on retainer, both for the obvious, mundane reasons and to guarantee they could get students and staff into the city in case of an emergency. The bays were split four to either side by a tall, vaulted hallway decorated in Academy colors and filled with work-benches, storage bins, and terminals that could access Beacon's network for students in the city that needed it. Attendants and guard-drones, courtesy of Atlas, moved up and down the hall, but no one bothered them as they passed.

"Impressive…" Mort murmured as they passed through and into the megaplex of Vale's international and domestic airport. Bullheads and their much larger brethren drifted up and around each other, banking off to deliver cargo and passengers alike across the Kingdom and further, to the Frontier and beyond.

"You could say that again…?"

"I didn't say anything?" He flinched and turned to Pyrrha, standing beside him with her brow raised. Weiss was further away, pretending to read a poster for a movie while she waited on them.

"S-Sorry." He laughed, taking a step to go on. "Lost in my own head."

"Mhm…" Pyrrha hummed loudly, falling into step beside him. She smiled as they reached Weiss and asked, "Interested in seeing it?"

"Not even mildly." The heiress scoffed, shaking her immaculately done up head. She waved a hand at the poster as she turned and they all left together, her at the lead as they wound through the sparse crowd of the port. "It's another 'The Hunstmarshal' movie…"

"Oh no." Jaune groaned, "The one where he has an automatic gun in the damn grip of his sword?"

"One and the same."

"In the grip…" Pyrrha blinked, "Wait, but how does he aim? If the barrel is in the base, then he'd-"

"Cut his own face every time he tried to aim it." Weiss filled in for her, scoffing loudly. "Exactly the point! So unrealistic…"

"Probably the point of it." Mort pointed out, "And besides, it's a movie. Realism isn't that important."

Jaune rolled his eyes. Of course Mort, the magical, talking, sword would think that…

"Regardless of all that nonsense." Weiss finally said as they stepped out of the airport and onto the wide promenade that circled it, ringed by hotels and restaurants meant to cater to the comers and goers the port brought in. "What brings you into Vale?"

"My mantle." Pyrrha answered after a permission seeking look to Jaune. "I'm sworn to Jaune now, and need a Mantle to attest to it. So, here we are, retrieving it."

"Ah…" Weiss hummed, flicking the red-head a look and then flicking one to Jaune as well. "What are your colors, even, Lord Arc?"

"Huh?" He blinked and looked down at himself. He was wearing his armor into the city, and his sword of course, but neither matched his colors or bore his sigil. The silver was at least closer to a match, but the rest were dark colors. A far cry from the white and gold. "Hadn't even thought about it, but yeah, not wearing it…"

"My Lord's colors are white on the background, bordered in gold." Pyrrha answered quietly, "His sigil is that of twin crescents-"

"Owing to my family's origin as the familia secundus of the Arc name." Jaune added quietly, smiling when Weiss and Pyrrha both looked to him worriedly. "Hey, it's a bit morbid, but… I mean, we just want to remember where we're from. Honor the sacrifices and losses along the way to where we are. You follow?"

"I do." Weiss nodded a sthey rounded a corner onto a narrower street built between two of the nice restaurants that serviced the port. "I just wish my father would take the same lesson as yours has, Lord."

"Yeah." Jaune hummed, flicking a look up the path they were headed as his skin crawled. But the path was empty, save for a thin woman listening to a larger man who looked to work at one of the restaurants talked. Ignoring them, he said, "I wish he would learn, too, before more people have to-"

"Schnee!" A loud voice called out as a thin, hooded woman pushed off a wall and stepped into their path.

She was flanked by a pair of barrel-shaped men toting hefty bats who seemed to appear from nowhere, but the speaker was behind them. Turning, Jaune met a wizened old man's gaze as he sauntered forward, sparks climbing along his length. In the old man's place stood a man in a fine coat, a cigar glowing in his mouth while a long cane spun around a finger. Grinning around the toxicant, the man brought his cane down with a crack and leaned on it heavily.

"Pyrrha, protect Weiss." He ordered, ignoring the woman's affronted 'excuse me' as the Mistralian obeyed, stepping in front of her and calling her weapons to her hands. Jaune stepped between her and the suited stranger, one hand resting on Mort's grip, and raised his voice. "I am Lord Jaune of House Arc at Ansel. Who are you?"

"You… Don't recognize me?"

"Would I ask your name if I did?"

"He's Roman Torchwick." Pyrrha answered, before the smiling man could. Jaune cocked his head to the side, but never looked away from the man, and the Mistralian went on. "A thief and a base rogue, mostly. Ruby told me she fought with him, before Beacon, so I looked him up in case he… Popped up."

"Smart girl." Mort muttered, "Drawing on energy, Jaune. In case this gets violent…"

"Ruby?" Roman Torchwick said, sounding surprised. He quirked an eyebrow and held a hand up to his shoulder, "About so high, black 'n red, carries a big fuck you scythe?"

"That's her, yeah." Jaune nodded, turning and bringing his left foot back, reaching across his waist to lay his hands on Mort Noir's hilt. "What do you want with us, then?"

"Who said I want anything with you, my particularly proletarian little aristocrat?" Roman asked with a wry chuckle, waving his hand with a flourish at Weiss and going on before he could answer. "I'm just here for the Schnee. Not you or missus stasi 'n go over there. So why not just… Hop along?"

"And why would I do that?"

"She's a schnee." One of the bat wielding brutes answered simply.

"Partner." Roman sighed when jaune turned to the man and then back to the thief. "Would ya mind clueing our little friend in?"

She shrugged and flicked a hand, and the two men's forms were swallowed by flickering sparks that crawled from their feet to their head. Bats became machetes, and shirts stark white tunics. Their smiling, but blank, faces shifted and turned into bone white masks like Grimm.

"Okay, that's got to be another bullshit Semblance." Mort sighed, "I said it before, but I hate bullshit Semblances…"

"White Fang…" Weiss gasped, voice full of terror. He flicked a look over his shoulder and, while she was wide-eyed, her eyes were locked on the White Fang, and Myrtenaster was steady in her hands.

"See? Faunus!" Roman cheered, clapping and yanking Jaune's gaze back around to him. Pointing at the two goons, Roman sauntered to and fro and said. "So you get it, right? Animals want the Schnee, Arcs like the animals… Win win!"

"If you're suggesting that I ought to just let you have her…" Jaune growled, drawing Mort Noire slowly, sword twisted to the side slightly to draw out the scrape of metal on the sheath. "You've got another thing coming."

"Namely, blood." Pyrrha growled, bringing the spear she'd drawn on first up and down on the concrete with a heavy ringing sound that echoed around them. "It may not be sand, but it would be my utter joy to feed the cold concrete with your freshly freed and flowing crimson."

"Well that's violent…" Roman sighed, shaking his head and turning back to Jaune. "C'mon. You're an Arc! Handing someone from her family over so the animals can have some fun should come second nature to you."

"You're right." Jaune said quietly, leaning the flat of his blade against a shoulder and cocking his head. "I am an Arc."

"J-Jaune…"

"But that is where your understanding of me, and my family, falls apart, rogue." Jaune went on, turning to meet the Fang's faces beyond his armored partner's form. To them, he said, "I'm an ally of the Faunus not due to their race, but due to what others feel for their race. The rage, the hate- We oppose it because it is wrong to judge anyone for what they haven't done, but rather, for what they happen to be."

"She's a Schnee." One of them growled, "Dressed up in frilly silks 'n carrying enough Dust to feed my family for a month!"

"And did she take that wealth from you? Put you down in the dirt? Leave you to scrape by on rare kindness and luck?" Jaune asked sharply, pointing a gloved hand at the two Faunus and adding. "Or did someone else do that to you? Someone not named Weiss, maybe? Because if she did nothing to you and yours, then what are you if not Jacques himself, dressed up in a mask and new suit, punishing those for their ken rather than their actions?"

"I…" The Faunus on the left looked to the one on the right, suddenly unsure of himself. "Frankie, he's… Kind of right."

"Oh for the love of-" Roman growled and Jaune turned back to him, wary of his cane in case it concealed a blade of some kind. The robber ignored him, though, calling out to the masked fighters. "Don't you animals get it? It's the message you send!"

"You're right." Jaune said, nodding and going on, building on Roman's words when the man blinked in surprise. "When you riot, you torch stores and warehouses. But rarely does this actually hurt the targets. It's an unfortunate reality of making a statement, to get attention onto a grave issue."

"See, even he agrees!"

"But this," Jaune went on, "isn't a store. Isn't petty property. It's a life! And as an Arc, I ask both of you to consider her. Because on my name and my blood, Weiss is not who you need to be aiming for."

The two exchanged glances at that, backing away slowly and lowering their weapons. As they turned to leave, the woman moved. Glinting steel snapped to the right and then to the left before he could react, and the men fell silently. Blood pooled under them and the woman smiled, flicking her long, thin sword to the side. It left a line of blood on the ground between her and Pyrrha, and the Mistralian chuckled.

"Oh, what a shame." Roman sighed, spreading his hands to either side in a 'what can you do' gesture and shaking his head. "The little snow angel killed the animals I was sent out with… Oh well, I'm sure they'll make you pay for it."

"Bastard…" Jaune snarled, spitting. "Murderer!"

"Like I said. Arc." Roman sighed, smiling thinly and waving a hand at himself. "I know how to send a message. Even when I don't really want to."

"You're fast…" Pyrrha complimented the woman, lowering her stance a bit as she readied herself, "And accurate, too."

"Pyrrha." Jaune growled, recognizing the tone in her voice. The excitement. "Hold your ground. Consider it an order."

"...As you say, Master." Pyrrha sighed, "What, then, is the plan?"

That was a good question… Jaune's mind raced for an answer as he turned to Roman, sword resting against his shoulder but both hands wrapped around the hilt. Roman had come here with his 'partner' and the White Fang, to take Weiss. Why the White Fang would want Weiss was obvious, but… Roman had killed the Fang he'd brought.

So why stay now? Fight for Weiss? He had a bigger aim… Someone above him that wanted Weiss.

"Pyrrha, you're to deal with the woman." Jaune ordered sharply, rolling his neck until it cracked gently. "I will handle Roman."

"Oh you will, will you?" The thief laughed, shaking his head and sighing tiredly. "Frickin' Hunters…"

"Weiss." Jaune went on, ignoring him, "You're to run."

"What?!" She snapped out suddenly, "I'm not going to-"

"You are their target, Schnee." He cut her off, looking over his shoulder to meet her gaze. She flinched and he turned back to the thief, rattling out, "And we don't know their strength. Run, get help, come back. It may save our lives. Or stay, fight, and quite possibly get us all killed. It's your decision."

"...Alright. Fine." Weiss said after a heartbeat. "I'll do it your way, at your word, Lord Arc."

"Thank you, Weiss." He sighed, "It means a-"

A crack of thunder cut him off and he snarled as the fiery projectile slammed into his chest. His Aura took the brunt of the crackling blow, and his armor, singed and blackened, dealt with the rest of it. Snarling, Jaune brought his sword down and felt it thrum as the blade lit with white hot flames.

"Go now!" He roared, sweeping the sword out and to the side, sending the wave of fire crackling down the street towards his enemy.

He heard Weiss grunt and turned just enough to see her vanish up a wall courtesy of a line of glyphs. Smiling, he turned back to his opponent and let out a long breath. Roman growled, waving the dissipating fire aside, and raised his gun cane, because of course, at Jaune again.

"Whelp…" Mort sighed, "Just a little day trip to the market, innit?"

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