Chapter 6
Ozpin rubbed at the grit in his eyes as he rode up the elevator to his office. He took a sip of the lukewarm coffee in his mug and tried to gather his thoughts. Initiation had been brutal this year. Students who had yet to be fully admitted to Beacon would not, as a rule, be expected to fight class four Grimm, even in groups. And yet eight of his new students had made an excellent example of the monsters. They had fought with talent and skill, but most important, they kept calm and thought things through. Ozpin couldn't help the stirring of pride in his heart at their accomplishments but was worried all the same.
The enemy had a plan, but its exact nature eluded Ozpin, and his best agents had yet to uncover any concrete information. Reaching his office, Ozpin sat down heavily at his desk. Resting his forehead on a steepled finger, Ozpin replayed what he knew in his mind, facts dancing to and fro, but a conclusion remained out of his reach.
It wasn't until he heard Ms. Goodwitch's heels clicking on the marble floor that he looked to see a thunderous expression on his Deputy's face.
"The boy didn't even have his aura unlocked," Glynda said through clenched teeth. She threw down a file on his desk, the pages spilling out.
Ozpin glanced through the documents while Ms. Goodwitch fumed and paced. She, more than any, took the safety of students with the utmost seriousness.
Ozpin wasn't prepared for what he found as he honed in on the retrieval team's report.
"This can't be right."
Glynda saw what piece of paper held Ozpin's attention.
"I already checked and then double-checked with the medic. Mr. Arc died on impact. His aura was either so weak that it couldn't absorb the impact, or he hadn't unlocked it."
Ozpin's mouth tightened into a thin line.
Aura was a Huntsman's most critical tool, and while all sentient beings, bar the Grimm, had an aura, they were not all born equal. The amount of aura a person possessed was decided at birth. While people could train themselves to become more effective in their energy utilization, they couldn't increase their base pool. It was one of the reasons there were so few Hunters active. Anyone who wanted to become a Hunter had to meet a minimum required amount of aura, or they would not survive the harsh conditions the profession required. One of the reasons Beacon was considered elite was because of the rigors of its curriculum. Those rigors also demanded that they only admit students with the largest aura pools to draw from, which begged the question.
"Who reviewed Mr. Arc's application packet?"
"Verdant Gale. She's been part of our admissions team for more than ten years and swears up and down that Arc checked out."
Ozpin nodded and booted up his desk computer.
The preparatory schools in Vale had computer systems that interfaced with Beacon, providing real-time updates on their current student's aura pool and ability to utilize them. It was how Ozpin knew Ruby would meet the minimum requirements.
Ozpin typed in Mr. Arc's name and found a result.
"It says here that he completed his education at Lantern. His grades aren't special, but his aura levels are more than qualifying to advance to an academy."
"Yes, well, we know that wasn't the case, don't we."
Which left only two conclusion for Ozpin to draw on.
"Which means somebody hacked the system and changed Mr. Arc's results or something happened prior to initiation that weakened his aura to the extend that it could no longer protect him."
Ms. Goodwitch finally stopped pacing and crossed her arms.
"We need to investigate this."
Ozpin agreed.
"Keep it quiet for now. I'll contact Mr. Arc's family to tell them of his passing and delicately ask about his level of training. No need to drag the poor anyone's name through the mud if it was a simple accident."
It was a call that Ozpin was not unfamiliar with, telling a family that their child was never coming home, but it never got easier.
Glynda nodded once and left the office to begin her task.
Ozpin waited a moment before pulling his scroll out of his pocket and dialing a number.
"Qrow, get back to Vale. I fear our enemies are far closer to the gates than I initially feared."
As Opzin sat in his office making difficult phone calls, Goodwitch tore through Jaune Arc's file, and all the students familiarized themselves with their new home. Roman Torchwick whistled a jaunty tune as he meandered through an abandoned warehouse. Well, a seemingly abandoned warehouse if one wanted to be technical. Twirling his cane dexterously between his fingers, Torchwick offered a friendly smile and a wink to one of the mask fingers that was sorting through a pile of Dust he had liberated the night before.
"Make any progress, Deerie?"
Torchwick didn't think that was the woman's name, but if he was being honest, he really didn't care either way, and Deerie was easy to remember considering the impressive rack of horns that grew from the woman's head.
It was one of the reasons that Torchwick liked Faunus, so many easily distinguishable features. And the fact that they made great fall guys wasn't something he felt the need to share.
Deerie ignored Torchwick and continued the monotonous task of sorting crystals and powder by color.
Torchwick didn't let the lack of response bothered him. Instead, he kept walking and calling out greetings that, at best, garnered him a curt nod.
Entering his makeshift office, he took off his hat and suit jacket with a flourish and carefully hung them on a stand-alone coat rack. The office wasn't large, and the walls were covered in pictures and maps of Vale, many of which had multiple color pins meticulously placed. Torchwick liked to think of this space as a representation of his mind. He kept all up-to-date shipping schedules, escape routes, transport lanes, and police patrol routes. It allowed Torchwick the room to plan his heist down to the most minor details. A good plan was what separated an excellent thief from a mediocre one.
"I hope your good mood is warranted, Roman." A voice said from a dark corner of the room.
Roman jumped. He recognized the voice and wasn't pleased to have to deal with whom it belonged. Collecting himself fast, Roman spun, throwing his arms out, and smiled widely.
"Cinder! Good to see you. Hope you've been well."
Roman's attitude was an act. Both he and Cinder knew that. Cinder didn't say anything, but her eyes glowed like the embers of a fire, warning Roman that he shouldn't push it today.
"You're behind schedule." Cinder said after the silence had stretched long enough for a bead of sweat to make its way down Roman's temple to his jaw.
The man swallowed visibly and straightened his back.
"About that. We've been hitting so many places so quickly that the heat is getting strong. Any more aggressive, and we risk getting caught and our current stores discovered."
Roman thought that was a good excuse, as excuses went, logical and pointed. Cinder didn't care.
"You've kept the cells decentralized, yes? As a result, you and I are the only ones who know where every warehouse is located, correct?"
A reluctant nod was her answer.
"Do not over-dramatize things, Roman. It won't be good for your ongoing health."
Torchwick shifted his weight back and forth, and the air in the room heated up, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
"I can fix it! I've got a plan." Roman said, speaking so fast his words bled together.
"Explain."
Roman scrambled to the desk in the middle of the room and dug through the various loose sheaths of paper until he found the document he wanted.
"I have a friend who gave me a tip. A freight ship will be coming through the port next month."
Cinder stepped forward, her heel made of volcanic glass clinking with each step, and took the document from Roman, a printed-out email.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Roman, but dust is almost always transported by Bullhead, not ship."
Cinder wasn't wrong. The ocean was a dangerous place where Grimm flourished and grew to massive proportions. As a result, most well-known Dust distributors shied away from shipping their supplies via boat, even if it would keep the cost down.
"Usually, you would be right, but this isn't a regular ship. It's a Schnee freighter, the first of its kind. It's got enough guns and armor that they're confident any Grimm it comes across will be obliterated. This trip I'm talking about, it's the soft opening. Supposed to be very hush-hush in case it doesn't work."
Cinder hummed in thought before moving around the desk and sitting in Roman's cushy chair.
"And why would they send any amount of Dust on a supposed test run."
"Greed. The Dust suppliers need to send a minimum amount to make the trip worth it. Of course, it won't be filled to its maximum capacity, but still, I could double our stock with what they're carrying."
For the first time ever, Roman saw Cinder smile. He would have called it charming if he didn't know the evil-bitch that lurked beneath.
"What do you need to pull it off?"
Torchwick let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and his shoulders relaxed.
"More hands and transport Bullheads at the minimum and extra funds wouldn't hurt." Roman ran a hand through his hair. "We're gonna have to bribe quite a few people if we want to have time to load up."
Cinder nodded and stood.
"You'll have it, but in the meantime, I want you to review this." She held out a flash drive she had stored somewhere on her person."And put together a plan for our friends in Atlas."
Roman took the flash drive and watched as Cinder swept from the room.
Cinder ignored everyone she passed on her way out of the warehouse. They were of no threat or importance, and Cinder thought them beneath her notice.
Emerging from the building and into the late afternoon sunlight, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of squalor.
Vale was leagues better than Mistral, but the disparity between its citizenry was expansive.
A young man and a woman fell into step behind Cinder as she weaved her way out of the industrial sector and its plethora of narrow alleys and homeless junkies passed out on the sidewalk.
"Mercury, Emerald, has Taurus made his way out of Mistral yet?"
"He's on his way, Ma'am. Should be in the country within the week," Emerald said, always eager to please.
"I'm still not sure why he's the one we approached. The guy is a fanatic, and we aren't exactly on his side. He'll betray us in a heartbeat."
Mercury made his opinion known as they stepped onto a more domestic street, still poor, dirty, and run down but lacking in the overt criminal element.
Cinder did not disagree with Mercury's statement.
"True, but his overt zealotry makes him predictable and manipulatable. He will serve his purpose and either conform or be disposed of."
Before she could continue, a filthy child no older than six came streaking out of a side street and ran into Cinder's legs.
The girl fell backward and onto her rump, and Cinder stumbled slightly more from surprise than the force behind the blow.
Looking down, Cinder's lips curled in distaste as she saw the stain the child had left on her crimson dress.
Mercury and Emerald glanced around, the street wasn't busy, and the few people on it were determined to not see anything. Cinder's companions knew how much the woman despised being touched. The little girl froze under the weight of Cinder's stare, unable to look away like a mouse before a snake.
Cinder, with great care, crouched down, sitting on the back of her heels as she did so.
"Where are your parents?"
The girl stuttered, but she eventually got the words out.
"T-they, d-died."
Cinder stared at the girl a moment longer before she rose.
"Mercury, give the girl some lien."
Mercury blinked and cocked an eyebrow but didn't argue as he pulled out a few brightly colored cards and handed them to the child, whose jaw dropped in silent wonder. It was probably more money than she had ever seen in her short life.
"Now run along, but watch where you're going in the future." Cinder told the girl, who did just that, clutching the lien to her chest as she scampered away.
"Seems kind of pointless, doesn't it, Boss. I mean, she's gonna be dead soon anyway." Mercury said as they resumed walking to their base, less than a mile away.
Cinder ignored him. Mercury liked to talk for the sake of talking. She knew he didn't expect an answer. Besides, he didn't need to know about the little bit of herself she had seen in the child's eyes anyway. Her past was in the past, and her gaze was fixed on the future.
Yang was undecided. On the one hand, it was time to unpack and decorate the dorm room. Ruby and Pyrrha had already started. On the other hand, Shirou appeared to be having great difficulty figuring out his tie, which proved to be a great source of amusement for Yang as he bit his tongue in concentration. She was honestly tempted to start cooing, but that wasn't allowed in public. Only her sister and father knew about Yang's weakness to all things cute and adorable, and she refused to let anyone else find out. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.
But all good things had to come to an end. Shirou managed to get his tie more or less straight, and Ruby was starting to give Yang weird looks. Yang undertook the momentous task and pushed herself from the warm cocoon of blankets she had built for herself. Quickly snatching up her uniform from one of the wardrobes, Yang hopped into the shower and began the lengthy process of ensuring that her long blonde hair was washed to perfection. Yang took great pride in her hair, it was long, soft, shiny, and perfect, and she would happily kill anyone who messed with it.
Satisfied, Yang stopped her shower, dressed, and applied the smallest amount of makeup. Can't improve on perfection, after all.
Yang took a moment to admire herself. The school blazer and skirt combo was flattering, not something she had expected. Yang opened the bathroom door and beheld the chaos wrought in her brief absence.
Yang blinked twice and closed the bathroom door, wondering if she had someone crossed over into a dystopian reality. Re-opening the door, she confirmed that she had not. Moving to stand by Shirou, who looked as dazed as she no doubt did, she asked the obvious question.
"What the hell happened here?"
Shirou shot her a lost look.
"I don't know. Ruby asked me to help move her bed one minute and the next..." Shirou waved his hand helplessly.
"I was gone for five minutes!"
Now Shirou was looking at her with furrowed eyebrows.
"It's been more than thirty minutes," Shirou said, holding out his scroll to show the time, quarter to nine in the morning.
Yang shook her head. Why was it that men couldn't tell time? Her dad was the same way, always over-dramatizing things. It never took her more than five minutes to get ready in the morning, and no one would convince her differently.
Yang strode to the center of the room, where Ruby was sitting with a dazed look, and crossed her arms.
"You tried to use your semblance to decorate, did you?"
It was the only natural conclusion, given the room looked like a tornado had passed through. Blankets, sheets, clothes, and papers covered the floor. The door on one of the wardrobes was hanging by a single hinge, and a breeze wafted through the freshly broken window.
Ruby fidgeted and didn't meet her sister's eyes.
"Maybe."
Yang pinched the bridge of her nose.
Nothing for it.
"We'll deal with this later."
Yang found her bag and tossed a few loose sheets of paper and a pen into it.
"Let's get to class."
Really, Yang hated having to be the responsible one.
Shirou didn't know what to expect when he and his team burst into the classroom with seconds to spare. The room reminded Shirou of the lecture halls at the Clocktower. It was set up like a small stadium and was only half-filled. Some of the faces Shirou recognized from the day before, but most were fresh.
Ruby made an executive decision and led them down a few rows to sit behind Weiss, Blake, Ren, and Nora, but they didn't have time to chat.
The professor, a portly man in a bright red suit with a well-kept mustache that curled upward at the corners, announced the start of class grandly.
"The Grimm. Monsters, demons of the blackest womb, or as I like to call them, prey!"
The professor clasped his hands behind his back and paced the floor, looking up and making eye contact with each student as he did.
"My name is Peter Port, or the Red Thunder as I was known in my heyday, but as you can no doubt see." Professor Port swept a head through steel gray hair. "The impetus of that moniker has since faded with age, so you shall call me Professor Port. I've been an active Huntsman for forty years. In that time, I've fought every kind of Grimm, saved countless lives, and been rewarded by more damsels than I could name." Professor Port paused his monologue to wink at Shirou and give him a thumbs up as he glanced at Yang.
Shirou didn't understand why. He had known Yang briefly, but he could already confidently say she was more a force of nature than a damsel in distress.
"And under my tutelage, you all shall do the same!"
Professor Port posed, arms held up and out with his head thrown back like he expected to be bathed in adulation.
The students glanced at each other awkwardly as the silence extended into uncomfortable territory. Finally, Yang bumped Shirou and nodded her head at Port as if to say, do something. He wasn't sure what Yang expected him to do to move things along but decided he would try giving the professor what he wanted.
Shirou brought his hands together and began to softly clap. A few other students joined in to create a smattering of polite applause. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Professor Port, who chortled good-naturedly and told them to settle with a wave of his hand.
"Well! Now that introductions are out of the way let me tell you a story of a dashing young hero, me!"
Weiss seethed as she watched a student across from her collapse onto their desk and fall into a doze. He wasn't the first one either, but that was hardly a comfort to Weiss. Why was nobody taking class seriously? Beacon was the Huntsmen academy, reserved strictly for the best of the best. Weiss had to claw her way into the academy, and the blood, sweat, and tears it had cost her was nothing compared to everything else she'd given up.
'At least my team isn't so juvenile.' Weiss comforted herself before she glanced at her team seated on her right. Her pencil snapped in her hand, and a vein began to pulse dangerously at Weiss's temple.
Ren was asleep. Nora had pulled out her scroll and put in a set of headphones, and Blake, Weiss's partner, had decided to read a romance novel, of all things.
Weiss's hand trembled, and she had to force herself to unclench her fist, dropping the remnants of her writing utensil. Weiss took a breath and forced herself to calm down. She leaned over to get a new pencil from her bag and inadvertently looked back at Pyrrha's team. How it galled her that Ruby had partnered with Pyrrha before Weiss had the chance, and that feeling grew even stronger as she witnessed Pyrrha writing diligently in a notebook. At least someone other than Weiss was taking the class seriously. Curious, Weiss pretended to search for a pen and took a few more furtive looks back at the other group. Shirou, who Weiss had labeled as someone to avoid fighting at all costs, was leaning back with his arms crossed, but golden eyes were focused and intense as he looked forward. It was impressive, Weiss thought, that he could focus to such a degree with his partner nuzzling and drooling on his shoulder as she slept.
Weiss didn't even bother looking at Ruby. The batty kid was probably doing something foolish, like doodling or playing a scroll game like the child she was.
Sitting up and refocusing on what the professor was saying, Weiss was just in time to show her peers what she could do.
"A true Huntsman must be fast, strong, cunning, and wise. Do we have anyone here who believes they embody these traits?"
Weiss immediately stuck her hand in the air and preened when the professor's eyes focused on her.
"Ah, excellent, excellent. Come here, my young huntress-in-training, and let us test your mettle."
Weiss made her way down to where the professor stood. Up close, Weiss noted that while Professor Port lacked height, he was at least twice as wide as her and his arms were easily larger around than her legs. The professor pulled out his scroll and hit a button. The floor slid back in two places, and a cage covered by a black top and a shelf of simple steel weapons rose upward. The class began to murmur.
"While I'm sure these will pale in comparison to your own weapon, they shall suffice for today's demonstration. From here on, all of you will attend this class armed and ready for combat."
Weiss began a cold sweat gathering at the back of her neck as the cage shook and whatever was inside shrieked. Weiss selected a saber, it was longer than Myrtenaster and lacked Dust, but it was sharp and well-made.
"Very good." Professor Port said as he moved to pick up a massive blunderbuss with an axe built into the butte and threw the tarp off the cage. The boarbatusk in the cell howled and slammed its great curling tusks into the cage door.
"Let's see what you're made of, little huntress."
Professor Port chopped mightily into the padlock, unsealing the cage.
The boarbatusk charged out with a squeal, forcing Weiss to jump aside to dodge its charge. The boar skidded to a stop and snorted as it began to trot, circling Weiss.
Weiss lowered her center of gravity and raised her sword defensively. She scanned the Grimm, looking for a weak point, but the armor covered its sides and back in overlapping plates. Weiss wished she had Myrtenaster. A blast of ice would have ended the fight in a moment.
"Woo! Go, Weiss, show that piggy who's Boss!" Nora said, first high in the air as she cheered Weiss on.
The shout drew Weiss' attention to the crowd for a second, and the Grimm responded immediately. Launching into a charge, the Grimm lowered its head and tucked into a ball, the sharp spines on its back chewing up the stone floor like soft mud.
The Grimm slammed into Wiess like a train, throwing her backward and into the wall. Wiess cried out, pain lancing up her back, and her aura flickered. That one strike had to lower her aura by twenty percent. Rolling to the side, Weiss avoided the Grimm's follow-up charge by a hair's breadth. The Grimm hit the wall so hard it cratered it, and the whole room shook. Weiss stumbled to her feet and struck at the boarbatusk, but her sword failed to penetrate its dense hide.
"Weiss, go for the belly. It's weak there!" Ruby shouted.
Weiss snarled as she heard Ruby's advice like she would even think about following a child's word. Weiss's mind whirled, and an idea came to her. Dancing back, Weiss was careful not to get too far away lest the Grimm attempts its spin attack.
The Grimm charged after her, its burning eyes locked out to hers. Weiss skipped to the side at the last possible moment and leaped onto its back, bringing her sword around its neck to hold herself there. Weiss ignored the pain of the Grimm spikes digging into her abdomen, trusting her aura to protect her, and wrenched back on her sword with all her strength. It wasn't easy, but Weiss scythed through its unarmored throat.
The Grimm collapsed, and Weiss rolled off its back, breathing heavily.
"An impressive showing!" Professor Port said as he balanced his gun in the crook of his arm and began clapping enthusiastically. "I have no doubt you'll become a wonderful huntress in time."
Weiss pushed down her frustration and smiled shakily as the class began to clap along with the professor just as the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
"Well, it seems like we're out of time for today. You're all dismissed."
This chapter took a turn from what I had initially expected to write halfway through and thus required some cuts and rewrites to give it a semblance of flow. Not to worry, it still moves the story forward. I just wasn't able to further define magecraft or introduce some points of conflict. Those aspects of the story will have to come later.
In other news I re-watched Project Mouthwash's Fate/Stay Abridged YouTube show this week since I'd fallen behind on new episodes. Incredibly entertaining, but now I'm going to have to make the conscious effort not to let their version of Shirou take over this story's version no matter how entertaining he is.
As always, thanks for reading!