Chapter 8: Can You Keep A Secret?
"Your secret's safe, and no one has to know..."
"Why does your waiver have my sister's signature?" Weiss said.
His partner took one glance at his duly-signed form and noticed the one detail he could not have possibly concealed. She wanted to see if he managed to find someone to sign it, and it was impossible to convince her without handing it over. Right now, she was leaning over the teacher's table, probably comparing the signatures on both of their forms.
Dust Practical lectures were already finished, turning it into a period where students were free to work on their final projects.
Nex shrugged, glancing around the empty lab. "Winter and I had a talk. We talked a lot, actually."
Most of their schoolmates were probably finished with their stuff. The only reason why they were still in the lab was to put the finishing touches on their own.
Their dog sat on their shared desk, titanium face plate shimmering under the overhead lights. Its wheeled legs had thrusters fast enough to carry it at over three-hundred kilometres per hour, something the average car on the highway would burn a lot of gas to achieve. Its engines were calibrated by Weiss herself, her affinity for dust turning out to be invaluable, while he worked on the engineering and the weapon systems, putting gimmicks into the thing.
The crowd would be entertained.
At least, hopefully.
"You talked? You just talked and you managed to convince Winter to sign your form?" Weiss said as she spun, her eyes narrowing. "When did you talk? What did you talk about?"
Huh.
There were a lot more things in common between Weiss and Winter than just their genes. The rapid-fire questioning was oddly familiar. His memories of that night dissolved into a fragmented haze of alcohol and talking. But there were still those pretty interesting bits. Where interesting bits equated to flashes of squishy, little emotions and not much else.
Curse his brain.
"We talked last Friday over a couple drinks," Nex said, smiling. "She's great. You have an amazing big sister."
Weiss smirked and lifted her chin, looking as if she was the one being praised. "That doesn't tell me what the two of you talked about, but I'll be sure to relay your compliments to my sister."
One, two, three.
His partner's head turned a one-eighty, her eyes hurling daggers at him.
It finally sunk in. As expected.
"You did what?" Weiss shrieked in her high soprano. "You're not supposed to be drinking. You're only sixteen, a minor. And my sister is an Atlesian specialist, the pride of the military. What would General Ironwood think if he finds out? No, not if. When."
"I'm sure the good general won't mind," Nex said, tightening a loose screw on one of the dog's front legs. "Besides, it was your sister who offered. Said something about me being old enough to drink."
It was quite the surprise as well.
Who knew the stuffy ice queen had a rebellious side?
Old enough to drink—yeah, right. Phantom pains of the legendary hangover lingered in his brain. One of his ears still kept hearing things wrong, and his aura took a massive dump in the toilet. He slept through the Saturday after, buried in empty shot glasses and silk blankets.
Thus, the Huntsman's Respite turned into a bachelor's pad for the entire weekend.
Winter happily ordered him around, the woman blessed with an even worse hangover than he was. But at least he never lost a single card of lien. The ice queen paid for food delivery and the drinks out of her deep pockets. She left him a tip big enough to cover a week's worth of his salary, and there was even a little extra to buy some dust and ammunition.
"Well, if Winter says that it's okay..." Weiss said, fidgeting with the hem of her plaid skirt. "But nothing... untoward happened, right?"
Nex smiled, wiping the dust from his hands with a towel. "If by untoward, you mean underhanded political dealings that every person in a position of power has to do at some point in their career either for the sake of the kingdom or to advance their own interests, then no. Nothing untoward happened..."
Nope. Not even close.
By complete coincidence, General Ironwood received a very interesting package, hand-carried by Winter herself. The envelope contained the fruits of his labour, along with a cheeky letter introducing him and his association to Winter.
It explained exactly what the reworked code inside the hard drive was for, the waiting disaster that it averted and that there was a traitor in their ranks.
The very idea apparently spurred the big man's most trusted scientists into a quiet frenzy.
Now the general was looking for him, trying to book an appointment in his busy schedule. That busy schedule consisted mostly of long sleep and even longer training, but the good general did not need to know that.
As far as James Ironwood was concerned, Nexus Shade was simply too preoccupied with the festival to receive the big man's personal thanks and discuss whatever he wanted over coffee.
Weiss slammed a paint canister into their desk. "Nexus Shade. What did you do to—what did you do with my sister? If you so much as laid a finger on her, without her permission—but if she acquiesced, encouraged it, then... then... I have to..."
Ugh. What did he do this time?
Sometimes, the woman known as Weiss Schnee reacted to the strangest of things. But still, he could accept that. Accept a lot of stuff, really.
Nex shrugged, quirking an eyebrow. "What?"
Weiss heaved a sigh, her bright voice shrinking into the back of her throat. "Just answer me honestly, Nexus Shade. Are you in a relationship with Winter Schnee?"
His brain crunched to a halt.
Weiss tapped her flats on the tiles, probably waiting for an answer. Her layered, side-swept fringe—a recent addition to her regal face, framed her eyes too well. There was no telling what smouldered within those icy depths.
"Nope. Of course not," Nex said, warmth swirling in his chest. Thank his brain for the reboot. "I'm sure Winter's great and all, but I'm not really interested in her in that way."
Besides, women a little closer to his age were infinitely more appealing, and the idea of casual flings never really came to mind.
If he was going to date someone, it was going to be with purpose.
If he was going to commit into a relationship, put the effort into a woman, then he was going to do it all the way.
Nexus Shade would most certainly not be anything his father.
Nope.
The thought was hanged, quartered, and thrown to the wolves before it could take root in his brain. He would stay by her side, and see her through life until they were both old and grey together.
Weiss breathed a sigh, smiling as she contemplated her navel. "That's good. No, that's great. Let's continue doing what we're doing and forget about it, okay?"
The bell rang by the time they were done.
His partner marvelled at their dog, painted with dirty white and polished with dry wax. Why the military never made personalized robotic dogs for the public was debatable.
Dogs proved to be a reliable source of morale and security. The robotic part just meant the dogs could be armed to the teeth and appear cute at the same time. But then again, conspiracy theorists would point out the government was spying on them with cute robot dogs.
Screw it then.
There was absolutely no winning in Atlas.
"It's so cute," Weiss said, her hands pressed over the slope of her chest. "Ahem, I mean, it looks practical and efficient. A marvel of Atlesian technology made only possible by its proud representatives."
Nex nodded to show he understood, even though his brain was already churning out more reasons why a robot dog as a pet would not be taken well by the citizens of Atlas. But voicing them out would serve no purpose. It was only for a presentation that his partner wanted to win. If he was alone, then he would have made something way simpler. Maybe the fancy snow globe Weiss made would have sufficed.
"So, Nex..." Weiss said. "You're not doing anything right now, are you?"
Nex quirked an eyebrow, staring at their dog. Maybe if he made the neck a little sleeker, it would have been possible to attach some wings and make it fly. "Nope. Not really. I'm just going to train."
Nope. It would not have worked. The central mass seemed too cumbersome and prone to drag force. A flying dog would need a redesign. At that point, it would not even resemble a dog anymore.
Maybe a robotic parrot could be an adequate substitute?
"Well, I was thinking," Weiss said, sounding like she was ready to defend a thesis. "Why don't we go grab dinner? Everyone needs to eat food and we're both people, right?"
Nex nodded. Faultless logic. As expected from his partner.
But still. There was that even better idea. A robot dog that used gravity dust to fly. The thrusters on the thing only needed some modifications, and probably an entire cache of gravity and lightning dust.
But how exactly would the dog balance itself mid-air?
It was a problem for another thinking session, at least.
"Yeah, sure," Nex replied. "Should we go right now?"
His hands twitched. A flying dog raining confetti over an audience could garner a lot of attention. It could also send their chances of winning straight into Grimm territory.
"Yes. Let's," Weiss said, strolling towards the door. "I'm famished."
Well, the semester was nearing its end. Atlas Primary would be sending out its latest batch of graduates into the wild, wild world.
But still, while the principal preached anything was possible for fresh graduates, the data told a vastly different story.
An average graduate from one of the combat schools failed to enter the four huntsman academies. Only the top percentage of prep school graduates would be granted entry. The best combat schools on the planet did not have unlimited funds. They only catered to the true one percent.
It was a sad reality that most of the graduates here would turn into glorified bodyguards for some rich guy in town, or into unprepared soldiers who died somewhere in the fight against the enemy. The safest option was to work for someone like Mekel or Roman, but it was doubtful a fresh graduate would be up for the life.
But things did change.
So who knows?
His partner's hand touched the door handle.
His semblance blared.
A cacophony of white noise.
"Don't open the door," Nex said, snatching his weapon. The one hidden under their desk. "There's something wrong. Just don't open it yet."
Weiss glanced at his weapon, her left hand moving to her waist. She frowned, probably realizing they were still dressed their school uniforms. Her weapon was probably still in her locker.
Nex only brought Hrunting and Vigilance because he planned to train afterwards. He had been simply too lazy to drop by the lockers and instead brought his weapon into the lab, breaking about twenty-seven school rules in the process. Maybe even more. Thank the gods for small blessings.
"What's wrong?" Weiss said, removing her hand from the handle. "Did you hear something?"
She stared through the glass pane. The hallway stretched out, lockers and all. But still, something strange was happening here. Strange enough to tip off his brain and his semblance.
The white-washed walls were bereft of anyone. Atlas Primary maintained a strict schedule. Its students were disciplined enough to go home when the bell rang. But there were at least a few faces who stayed to gossip. The very same ones who cursed whenever he stormed out of the lab. But now, those exact faces were missing.
Gone.
"My semblance is pareidolic precognitive analysis," Nex said, examining the one-way glass and the hallway beyond it. No one could possibly see them from the outside. "If you open that door, a bomb is going to explode."
"You can see the future?" Weiss said, loping away from the double doors. "I'm a little jealous."
Nex shook his head, padding towards the door. Weapon in hand. "Not exactly. The future is only ever certain if you're living wrong. Case in point—not doing anything to change your fate."
It was a thought he had in the past.
If he poured enough aura into his semblance, then it was possible to see and learn more. How much more convenient would life be if he could predict every little instance?
The idea was scrapped after he was almost flattened by a truck. Using his semblance in that way was foolish. It was the equivalent to closing his eyes to what was in front of him. Hyper-fixating on what could be and what could not be. The future was fluid. Malleable. As long as one did not stand still against fate's chaotic currents.
The people who lived life standing still, fixated on one outcome, were the truly dead ones. They were already run over by the truck called circumstance.
Hrunting sang with the hymn of steel against steel. Vigilance expanded into a heater shield, one big enough to cover his chest. His partner stood a few feet behind him. He strolled towards the door. Her heartbeat spiked, stabbing his extra pair of ears.
"Stay behind me," Nex said, spreading his legs. "Use your glyphs to open the door."
He gripped his shield, bracing for the bomb.
White glyphs tinkled.
It opened with a bang.