Content Warning: explicit description of violence/gore.

Chapter 11: Survival of the Fittest

Jaune remained remarkably calm as the quiet night erupted into sudden chaos. He didn't so much as flinch when a red figure flashed over his head amid the spray of shrapnel, landing in the middle of the road. One car, having the misfortune of passing by at that exact moment, swerved off and almost hit a parked truck, skidding into a spin that finished with its rear end crumpled against a street pole.

The girl didn't seem to notice the consequences of her actions. She slowly rose from her crouch as if playing a role in a drama, or maybe a character from one of her comic books. The hood slipped off her headphones to reveal a surprisingly young and innocent face. So young, in fact, that if it weren't for the hunk of metal she held over her shoulder, Jaune would have mistaken her for a child not much older than Amber

Jaune had studied about Huntsman weaponry in school, their teachers stressing the dangers of handling these high-powered weapons without a professional present. He understood the necessity, given how many kids in Ansel came from Huntsman families, so he was not at all unfamiliar with the level of sophistication these weapons possessed, but actually witnessing a full-on mechanical transformation in person was a bit of a shock.

What began looking like a compact metal case, extended, mechanical parts rotating and re-configuring along the entire length, until the top unfolded into the shape of a crescent blade. If Crocea Mors had felt unnaturally heavy in his untrained hands, Jaune couldn't even imagine the weight of that monstrous scythe, taller than its owner and significantly more intimidating.

The girl twirled the scythe around her forearms and torso while spinning lightly on her feet, finishing the short performance by plunging the weapon into the ground and shattering the road violently.

Jaune wasn't sure what that move was meant to accomplish other than causing even more unnecessary damage to public property.

Even Roman looked slightly stunned by the scene before him. His cigar was dangerously close to falling from his mouth as his eyes trailed along the length of the weapon, jutting absurdly high into the air over the girl's petite frame. "O-kay…" He looked around at his underlings who were now spilling out into the street, "get her."

"Excuse me," Jaune said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "Can I go now? It looks like you have enough to deal with as it is."

Roman spat out his cigar and opened his mouth to respond just as the massive blade was suddenly coming down with a vengeance upon both of their heads.

Jaune immediately put his hand on Roman's cane, which, for some reason, was still held against his chest, and pushed himself back, staggering into a sloppy backward roll. The sound of crunching glass was loud in his ears as shrapnel dug into his back, but the pain didn't even register. His mind was already racing ahead, considering his options with clarity and focus that he'd never experienced before.

But then again, it was one thing to visualize one's future actions, and a whole other matter to execute them successfully.

Jaune saw a vision of himself jumping to his feet, throwing a devastating elbow to the face of the grunt advancing on him from behind. He forced his body to follow these instructions…

…meaning that he proceeded to slip on the sheet of broken glass and miss the grunt's face entirely, hitting the drawn blade instead.

The piercing pain that followed didn't fail to register this time, and Jaune let out an agonized groan, feeling the blade tearing out a chunk of his flesh before drawing back.

He wasted a precious second checking the damage to his arm. It didn't look good, to say the least. He wasn't a doctor, but he suspected that blood sprinkling out of his arm like a faulty fountain wasn't exactly the best thing for his health.

"STEM, I need your help," Jaune said as another grunt sprang at him, trying to tackle him to the ground. This time, the vision proved easier to follow, and Jaune kneed the guy in the face, sending him sprawling toward his friends. "STEM."

He had to get out of there. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control and the police were almost certainly on their way to the scene by now, probably escorted by a Huntsman team. And Jaune suspected that nothing less than a full team would do, judging by the main fight taking place in the middle of the street.

Roman seemed quite capable of handling the girl on his own, countering her speed with flashy, wide sweeps of his cane. The man didn't appear bothered by the fact that what had looked like a routine robbery somehow devolved into combat with a powerful Huntress.

"There's no reason to keep me here now," Jaune said, using a short lull in the fighting to talk some sense into the grunts gathering around him. He tried to keep pressure on the wound with his free hand, blinking away drops of blood that trickled down his forehead. "The police are already on their way," he pointed out. "Please, I'm just a bystander."

The guy closest to him, brandishing a blade that glowed faintly red, threw one glance at the fight between Roman and the Huntress. One glance was all it took to make his decision. He turned to Jaune, the safer target. "The boss says you're staying," he said. "So you're staying."

"You should reconsider," Jaune warned.

"You're staying."

"As you wish." Jaune bowed politely.

And leaped at the guy on his right.

What followed was a vicious, ugly affair. No more visions rose in his mind to show him a clear path, so Jaune resorted to his newfound affinity for violence, tearing into the men with wild ferocity.

Latching onto the hand holding the blade, he twisted the arm cruelly, instinctively, until a snapping sound was heard by every man around. Jaune didn't let go of the abused arm, using his screaming victim as a human shield to barrel into the guy pointing a gun. Two shots were fired, jolting the body that had been shoved defensively forward, before the three of them crashed into a pile of flailing limbs and shredding glass. It took a moment for Jaune to realize that they had broken through the second glass front and into the store, but that fact did nothing to interrupt the flow of violence. Fueled by blazing anger, he headbutted the shooter several times, crunching the nose while squeezing the neck with all his strength. It was pure instinct that kept his head on his shoulders, warning him to duck below a slashing blade. Jaune rolled to his feet and tackled the new attacker into a set of shelves. They knocked over some expensive perfume bottles while grappling for the blade.

Jaune bit down on the exposed neck.

"Arrgh! Get him off me!" The guy shrieked.

Spitting out a chuck of flesh, Jaune hammered the head against a wall. Again and again and again until something hard hit his temple and the world faded to vague outlines and swirling lights.

Jaune kept on fighting.

He groped on the floor around him, hands sweeping through torn magazines, packs of gum, and spilled Dust rounds, until his fingers closed on the grip of a suitable weapon. A piece of bent brass pipe. It lasted for exactly six solid blows before breaking in his hands, cracking the head of another shooter and shattering a knee cap.

Half-blind, almost delirious from a conflicting fusion of exhaustion and adrenaline, Jaune clawed, bit, grappled and thrashed, swinging his limbs widely as if his body were merely a tool at his disposal. By now, He'd had several opportunities to stop, to slip away, clear openings in the fighting that his mind made note of but quickly rejected.

A blade came whistling at his head, and instead of dodging back or ducking, Jaune stepped into the swing, trapping the forearm and breaking it on his knee. He slammed the guy into the ground and was about to stomp on his head when the warning click of another gun sounded from behind him.

Jaune dove to the side without hesitation, spinning in the air as he felt the impact of a bullet in his shoulder. Then he was rolling, ducking his head beneath a barrage of bullets and pushing off the ground to lunge at the shooter. For a brief moment, it appeared that he would not be able to reach the man in time. The hand pointing the gun only had to adjust a fraction of an inch, while Jaune would have to cross almost the entire length of the store.

So Jaune braced for impact… and he was suddenly on the other side of the store, as if he'd somehow skipped over the intervening space, slamming his fist into the man's jaw and sending him flying into a wall.

Jaune didn't waste any time in questioning the unexpected surge of power, instead, he used it to grab the arm of another thug and jerk him around, manhandling the guy as if he weighted no more than a child. Jaune used his new living weapon to create distance between himself and his assailants, pushing the body back and forth to discourage them from engaging him. That tactic worked perfectly until the shoulder of his human shield dislocated with a pop and it began to flap weakly in his grasp, at which point Jaune cast off the useless tool with a frustrated kick.

During the ebbs and flows of the fight, as Jaune was entirely focused on inflicting as much damage as humanly possible on everyone around him, oddities in the way his body functioned caught his subconscious attention, a few subtle but troubling details. The constant flashes of heat in the back of his neck, the too-eager way his body was leaping forward when he'd only meant to take a step, and the sinking feeling that if he stopped moving long enough, he might stop moving altogether.

But none of that mattered. Nothing mattered now, except for the still-breathing sacks of meat who dared to stand between him and…

And what? What was he doing again?

"STOP! STOP! NO!" The old man begged. Jaune lifted the store's owner by the shirt and pulled back for a strike-

His vision blurred and everything whited out. There was a crash, a scream, and the slick sensation of his thumb slicing into something soft. A shudder passed through him and he flinched back, tearing out of the fleshy cavity with a squelching sound. Jaune blinked and shook his head, his hand finding a solid surface to hold onto, and suddenly he was staring down at a bloody, squirming face. A face with one gory socket where an eye used to be.

A bloodshot haze covered his vision, a wave of nausea struck him, and once again his hand shot out, seeking purchase on a surface that would steady him. A weightless sensation of falling made his stomach turn and the store swayed around him.

Time seemed to skip forward.

Another stretch of violence followed, but nothing made sense anymore. Jaune wasn't even sure who he was fighting or where he was. But he continued, if only for the simple fact that he was stronger than everyone around him and no one could stop him.

Until she did.

She was deadly efficient, appearing by his side with a red flash that left behind faint afterimages of what looked like rose petals.

Jaune lurched back instantly, his mind responding like a machine processing a new input, unburdened by human doubt or fear. He raised his forearm to block her incoming spinning kick, but her leg took a surprising downward tilt that landed on his face instead. He let himself spin with the momentum of the blow, but his neck twisted faster than his body could and he thought he could hear tendons straining from the impact.

But even that didn't phase him. Jaune completed the spin with a raised elbow aimed at her face, putting his whole body into it.

She stopped him cold by catching his upper arm. Their eyes locked in that instant, in that awkward position with his back facing her and his arm trapped in her steel grip.

Her eyes widened in shock. "You- you're just a normal civilian!"

Jaune responded by spitting a mouthful of blood on her face.

"Ew!" she yelped in disgust and pushed him away from her. He rolled forward with the powerful shove and righted himself onto a crouch, watching the girl wiping her face and pouting at him. "What did you do that for?"

"Thank the gods you're here!" The store's owner raised his head from behind the counter. "This boy is insane. Completely out of his mind! He almost killed me! You need to arrest this punk and- "

"Look- "

A ceiling tile shook loose and crashed right on the old man's head, knocking him out instantly.

The girl froze mid-step with her arm stretched forward. "…out."

She flinched when another heavy tile landed on the unconscious body.

"Oopsy." She forced out a nervous laugh. "I guess I should have warned you about that." She casually stepped back to dodge a third falling tile.

But then she glanced around the store, and her easy expression slowly slipped from her face as the severity of the situation finally began to dawn on her.

The store, just a few minutes ago a clean, inviting space, was now in shambles, covered in dust rounds, smashed shelves, torn magazines, and the devastated bodies of the suited men. Dead or simply unconscious, it was impossible to tell. They littered the floor as if part of the ruined goods.

Her sweeping gaze ended on Jaune, on his torn shirt and the incriminating blood dripping down his knuckles.

She tightened her grip on her massive scythe.

Jaune must have mirrored her confusion, staring down at his bare chest, which was now caked with so much blood that hardly any skin showed. He touched his wounded arm, the one that had taken a bullet and suffered a slash from one of those red blades. Somehow, the bleeding had completely stopped.

Did he… did he cause this?

He took a tentative step forward.

"Don't move!" She cried, her voice suddenly shaky. She spun her scythe and stuck its point in the floor tiles. The blade was so large compared to her short frame that the handle was parallel to the ground when held against her shoulder.

It took a moment for Jaune to realize that she was pointing the barrel of a rifle at him. Her scythe, unsurprisingly, doubled as a long-range weapon.

He had no doubt that whatever came out of that barrel would easily turn him into a bloody mess, Aura or no Aura.

Jaune slowly raised his hands up, his mind finally catching up. "Calm down," he said and coughed up blood. "I'm just a civilian." Jaune followed her stare to one of the downed men. The one missing an eye. "It was self-defense," he said calmly. "I didn't mean for this to happen," he half-lied, taking another step forward.

"I said don't move!"

"Please, I'm no one. A nobody." He hesitated. "I can't be here when the police arrive. Please let me leave."

"I-" she opened and closed her mouth, clearly at a loss for words. "but you- you-"

"I had no choice," Jaune said. "They came at me and I had to stop them. Please, I need to be out of here."

"No! Stop!" She lifted what was clearly a rifle now, tracking him with the barrel.

"Are you going to shoot me with that? Because if you do, you should know that I probably won't survive," he said. "It's not as easy as it seems." He was bluffing now, saying whatever came to mind, anything that might give him an opening. "Killing another person, I mean."

He took another confident step forward. He had her now.

Her entire body was visibly shaking. "I'll do it! Don't test me!"

"No you won't," Jaune said and walked passed her.

He was almost at the exit door when the man with the bowler hat Jumped into the store through one of the shattered windows. Roman didn't look any worse for wear. Not even a bruise.

"Of course she won't shoot," he said. "Even Red isn't stupid enough to shoot up a Dust store. Just Imagine the explosion." He strolled toward one of his grunts and rested his boot on the man's back. "Too bad I can't say the same about my men." Roman leaned down and touched the grunt's head. Nothing happened for a moment, then the body convulsed and the man stirred with a groan.

They stood there in silence and watched the grunt slowly coming to his senses. Jaune didn't know what made him stay put, but he did, suspecting that leaving now would be a mistake.

"Boss, take me with you," the grunt said the moment his eyes shot open. "Don't leave me here."

Roman lifted an eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

"Kept him here," he coughed, motioning with his head toward Jaune. "Only…followed your orders."

"Oh, did you now?" Roman smiled, and Jaune got the distinct impression that a smile this wide could only be reserved for special occasions. "You carried out my orders by destroying our primary source of easy revenue. Is that right?"

"No! It was all him! He did this! You don't understand- "

"Shut it." Roman's cane came down on the man's head with such force that his one remaining eye popped out. "You are garbage." The cane came down again, splitting open the skull. "You are nothing to me." Another blow scattered pieces of grey brain matter all over the corpse. The girl had a horrified expression on her face. Her eyes darted around and her grip on the scythe slackened.

It was then that Jaune recognized her for who she truly was. Just a kid, way out of her depth. She was simply reacting to the situation, just like he was.

"I should let her deal with the rest of you," Roman spat. "Alas, I'm but a merciful leader." He straightened up, wiping the bloodied end of his cane on the man's suit. "So I'll just dispose of you all myself. Forgive my crudeness, Red, but playtime is over." He tipped his bowler hat at the girl. "You've messed with a gentleman's business, and if there's one thing you don't ever do, it's mess with the money." He twirled his cane, looking her up and down with obvious contempt. His eyes flicked to Jaune. "And you're still standing. Well, color me sufficiently impressed." He gave Jaune a mocking clap. "Those were not your typical street trash. I've trained these men myself."

"Why don't you just leave?" Jaune asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. "When the Huntsmen get here- "

"The Huntsmen?" Roman interjected. "You really are new to Vale city, aren't you?"

Jaune didn't respond. The less information he revealed, the better.

"Well, doesn't matter," Roman said. "My ride should be here any minute now, and you should come along."

Jaune clenched his fists, readying himself. If this guy wanted a fight, he would give him one. He would-

"Now, now, kid, no need for all that," Roman said. "You got it all wrong. I'm not going to force you to come. If you're truly willing to leave now and risk getting arrested in short order, by all means..." He waved at the door. "I give you an hour, two tops, before you're chained to a metal desk and looking at a very long jail sentence."

He had a point. Jaune had assumed he'd walk out of there and vanish into the night, returning to Terra's apartment as if nothing had happened. But he'd already left so much forensic evidence behind, probably several witnesses and…Jaune scanned the ceiling, quickly locating the security cameras.

"You get it now," Roman drawled, waving at one of the cameras. "They have your face, so unless you know a really good plastic surgeon, happen to have a safe house close by to lay low for a while and enough Lien to grease the right hands, you are out of luck."

"Don't listen to him!" Red said. Her bravado had completely worn off, leaving her looking confused and unsure of herself. "Stay here, I'll help you with the police! I'll help you! I won't leave you. You're only a civilian, you- "

"Quiet now, Red. The grownups are talking." Roman took a careless step forward and she flinched back, raising her rifle at him. "You know, I've been around long enough to become intimately familiar with Ozpin's stock, but I can't say I've ever seen so much incompetence squeezed into such a small frame. And this is coming from a gentleman who handles trash for a living."

Red looked devastated.

Roman smirked and turned to Jaune. "So what do you say, kid? I'm doing you a favor, really. In fact, you should have been groveling at my feet by now, but I suppose we can work on your manners later."

Jaune glanced out into the street. With almost every street pole now broken, bent, or splintered across the pavement, he couldn't see much. The road was shrouded in shadows but clearly deserted. By now, he would have expected to see police cars, Huntsman teams, and a yellow tape blocking a crowd of curious civilians. The store wasn't that far from the main boulevard, so either the fight had been a lot quieter than he'd thought, or people in Vale City possessed an admirable sense of self-preservation.

"STEM, please respond," Jaune muttered. He hoped it wouldn't make a habit of disappearing whenever Jaune needed it the most. And he needed it right now, without a doubt, because he didn't have the frame of reference or a firm enough grasp of his situation to make a decision on his own. Roman might have offered a legitimate route of escape, but where would that lead him long-term? Jaune couldn't stay away from his family in either case.

"I'll make you an offer," Roman said. "I have unfinished business here, as you can see, and my employer doesn't appreciate loose ends. Help me teach Red here a permanent lesson, preferably before my ride gets here, and I can guarantee that you'll be considered for a position high in my organization, one that matches your unique talents." He paused, tossing his cane into the air and catching it again. His eyes regarded Jaune, considering. "You see, I need a man who gets things done, no excuses, and you might just be the guy I've been looking for."

Red had apparently heard enough.

Jaune only caught her movement because he made an effort to keep both of his potential threats in view at all times. She vanished in a crimson burst of rose petals, her speed creating such a strong blast of wind that Jaune had to take a step back and resist the impulse to cover his face with his hands.

She appeared an instant later, face flushed, her hair in a wild tangle, and her headphones missing. Also, her scythe was tossed by her feet and she was lying face-first on the ground.

Right under Roman's raised cane.

"I'll even throw in a signing bonus," Roman said, not missing a beat. "How does a 100K sound?" His cane came down with such a brutal force that it was just a vague blur to Jaune's senses. It slammed into Red, who'd barely managed to roll over on her back and take the blow on a raised forearm. She cried out in pain and did a forward roll, grabbing her scythe in one fluid motion.

Accept his offer.

Jaune let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been holding.

Then he processed the words and his unease returned in full force.

He moved back, taking cover behind a sturdy-looking bookstand that was miraculously still upright. "…Why?"

The solution I calculated is no longer viable. Current events have substantially reduced its chances of success. It is in your best interests to aid this man in dispatching his opponent.

Jaune could already tell where this was going, but he had to make sure. "Dispatching?"

To gain his trust, it will be enough to assist him in causing an irreversible cessation of all of her vital functions.

"Excuse me, but it sounds like you're saying I should kill her."

There's a chance she will survive.

Jaune gave the suggestion some thought, leaning forward with both hands on the bookstand to take some weight off his aching legs. He heard another cry of pain, followed by Roman's patronizing voice, but their fight was background noise to him now. "That doesn't seem to fit with the concept of 'irreversible,' does it?"

Her life could be sustained through artificial means.

That sounded even worse.

The prospect of using violence against this female disturbs you. May I ask why?

"She's innocent," Jaune replied immediately. "I don't have the right to take her life."

You have just maimed seventeen adult males. Three will not survive the next day. One is suffering from intracranial hypertension and will expire in six minutes. What right did you have to take their lives?

"I- no, you're wrong. I didn't mean for that to happen. It was an accident. They attacked me, and I had to react. And you were gone and…"

Red was screaming in pain now, and Roman appeared to be lecturing her on the perils of placing too much faith in one's Semblance.

Jaune barely paid them any attention. His chest was starting to hurt and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

You've had numerous opportunities to disengage, but you chose not to. You have acted in your own best interests, in accordance with your natural psychological processes.

"It was… natural?" Jaune asked weakly, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Yes. It is natural for every biological entity to strive for survival at all costs.

"I only want to keep my family safe," Jaune said tiredly. "That's all I want. Nothing else matters."

According to the objectives you specified, helping this man will result in the best outcome.

"What happens if I don't?"

Unknown.

"Last chance to make yourself useful!" Roman cried, jolting Jaune out of his stupor. He stood over Red, holding his cane above his head.

She looked awful. Her face was drained of all color and her hair hung in sweaty strands over her forehead. She held her right leg with both hands, where the knee appeared swollen with an odd-shaped lump.

If you allow me to take over, it will be done in four seconds. You can close your eyes if you'd rather not see.

"There's nothing to worry about, kid," Roman said. "She can't move. Look at her." He scoffed, kicking her wounded leg viciously and eliciting an agonized cry. "She's done for. I just need you to give her the parting gift and we'll be out of this dump in no time."

Jaune was almost on his knees now, strewn over the bookstand, his head cradled in his arms.

His eyes flicked over the books around him. Most of them were technical manuals about Dust handling, of the kind that would normally put him to sleep. But there was one huge hardcover book that caught his attention. It lay on the shelf right next to his head, titled 'Dust: Properties and Manipulations. A Rigorous Approach.'

I need your permission to operate independently.

A/N:

Hello everyone! First and foremost, thank you for reading up to this point. I'm happy with the overall positive response STEM has gotten so far, despite the slow updates.

I read every review and take every piece of feedback I receive seriously, so do leave a comment or send me a PM if you have any advice to offer. I welcome any and all criticism, no matter how harsh.

Regarding the future of this fic:

I've decided to experiment with shorter chapters but faster updates, so we'll see how it goes. One major downside to this approach is that chapters may sometimes feel incomplete, so you'll have to forgive me for the occasional cheap cliffhanger.

Chapter 12, 'I Am Not a Victim,' will be up on Wednesday, November 9th