Sanctuary was clean.
It was a simple word to describe the sight before him, but it was certainly the most effective and honest one. Jaune had never thought of Beacon Academy being dirty, everything was neat and tidy with no obvious stains but still thrived with the beating heart of life within its walls. You could see particles of dust swaying with the morning sun, gentle layers of age feeding through tiny cracks in the foundation of the walls, the slight wrinkle in the carpets where the flood of rushing students had dragged the edges back, and even the fingerprints of every loner that pressed their hand against the windows while they idled. Beacon Academy had been a school you could look at and immediately tell that people lived there, whether they were there at the moment or not.
Sanctuary was pristine, practically glowing, not a dent of personality to be seen. It was more like a model built to real-world scale than an actual building, meant to be placed on a pedestal, sealed in a glass case, and never touched; only admired from a safe distance. Picture perfect strips of bright green grass, with every individual strand standing straight, flanking a narrow pathway of stone leading up to an elevated square. Of course, at the square's center was a large intimidating statue, it's marble visage giving way to a scowling man with bloated features, sullen eyes, and seaweed stuck to every curve. It immediately gave Jaune an unpleasant image of a drowning man. Behind the odd statue stood what Jaune could only describe as a small castle, jagged gates and watchtowers and all. It too was clean. It too was pristine. It too lacked life.
"This looks… Pleasant." Pleasant, now that word was a bald-faced lie. As soon as it left his lips, it felt wrong, as if Jaune instinctively felt ashamed of himself for saying such an obvious falsehood. The word brought forward the image of welcoming venues, comforting environments, simple beauty, and an overall feeling of warmth. There was no warmth in these empty halls, only a thin veneer of civility.
It was clean. Disgustingly clean. One glance as Jaune pushed forward towards the main gate and he could already imagine the cleaners, desperate, red-faced, and silent as they scrubbed every inch clean until their blood became the new soap. It was the type of clean that made one think about the stains, that carried with it a silent mystery, an implication of something sinister laying it on a smidge too thick with an oppressive call for silence.
"State your name and business, Sir." For a moment, Jaune was ready to accept that this dollhouse of a castle came with it's very own ghost, the cold and monotoned voice hitting him hard and immediately knocking him off balance. Suffice to say, it wasn't the best first impression for him to be sent crashing to the ground because he didn't notice the intercom attached to the gates.
Now, he didn't know if the speaker could see his pathetic pratfall, but he could very much imagine the utter dismay and bitter acceptance spread across the woman's face in his head. Just watching this dolt and questioning if she was really getting paid enough to deal with these idiots. Either way, the thought had Jaune scrambling to his feet with what remained of his dignity and his best attempt at a charming smile as he leaned over the voice box. "Larry Jenkins, I'm here to meet with the Headmistress?"
He could hear a small blare of white noise sprinkle out of the intercom, attuned to the scraping of rough paper as it was slid across a desk. Jaune liked to imagine she'd been on her phone in the midst of a text, or reading amusing non-work related posts on the net until he came along to remind her of her job. It wouldn't mean much, but it would breathe some much-needed humanity into this place, make it feel less like every second he stood here something was being sucked out of him. "Oh, that's right. Jenkins, Jenkins…" But then it was most likely to him that she'd been doing no such skiving, not a hint of focus left astray. No, she probably stared at the screen, nothing registering until something moved. A living camera looking through another camera. It was just the feeling this place gave him, and he'd only been back for a few seconds. He could only imagine how he'd felt working here for years. "Head round the back, up the steps, follows the signs, yeah?"
He offered a small two-fingered salute, but he was pretty sure the woman wasn't following his gestures and stopped mid-salute. "Haven't even entered the building yet and I already feel unwelcome." Muttering under his breath, he pushed off his beat-up sneakers (the most fashionable shoes he seemed to own, coming with a fresh coat of dirt and holes) and felt himself sink and he passed under the now raised gate and extended bridge.
Jaune had never been inside a castle before, nor had he ever been inside a school designed to look like a castle, so he had little expectation going in. Yet he was still taken aback by the blend of modern and ancient aesthetic. The walls were clearly reinforced metal, but a layer of dark, gleaming paint created gaps and patch patterns in the material to make it easy to mistake for stone bricks. The entrance hall was exactly what you'd picture a grand hall looking like, a wide amount of space dotted with suits of armor, a grand staircase in the middle, and two smaller doors beside the stairs leading downwards. The lights were not electrical, but they weren't normal either, large torches hung from the rafters above, clenched in the hands of stone gargoyles; spitting foreboding blue flames.
Immediately, Jaune could feel it, the alienation, the unwelcoming burden, that sense of othering creeping into his bones. It reminded him of being a kid again, going over to a friend's house, and never forgetting that fact. No matter how much people would try to make him feel at home, tell him to make himself comfortable. It always felt it was clear he wasn't supposed to be there, like at any minute someone would catch him and yell at him for being in the wrong place. It was fresh at the back of his mind. No one was comforting him and he knew he'd been invited in, but he could feel eyes on him, like every wall was hiding a mass of eager eyes scrutinizing his every move, whispering to one another about why he was here, wishing he was gone.
"Follow the signs… Follow the signs…" He repeated the simple instructions out loud, clinging to them like the only rope stopping him from dropping into the abyss. Eyes remained glued to the wall, holographic signs twinkling above him, almost easy to miss with how dim they were. His feet shuffled in a rushed clamoring of footsteps under this lighting, constantly moving towards the nearest light source at every corner he passed. One wrong turn and he feared this castle would swallow him up whole, never to be seen again.
It added to the cleanliness of it all, the idea that any stain, human or otherwise, would be sucked into some dark corner of the castle and simply vanish. There was no life to walk the halls, there was no need for the lighting to be the least bit warm as there were no eyes that needed to see. There were only the walls, the drapes, and the suits of armor that sunk into the background.
When he finally emerged from the dower hallway into what he assumed was the office, he gasped. There was light streaming in from the window, basking him in a calm and warm glow as the room opened up into a generally more lived-in space. It felt like a drowning man breaking the surface of the sea to get his first gasp of clean air, clearing his lungs of the claustrophobic corridors at his back. It was his sanctuary within Sanctuary, and with two minutes to spare he was ready to take a moment and breathe in this moment of relief.
The first time he raised his head to sweep his gaze around the room, he was met with the unimpressed look of the green-haired secretary situated at her desk, a pen hanging from the corner of her lips. Emerald. He remarked bitterly in his head. It didn't take much for him to recognize her. No, he'd been expecting her and the rest of the homicidal clown gang to turn up at one point or another. The mere sight of her immediately triggered an instinctual reaction of disgust in his stomach. He knew less about Emerald than he had about most of the villains back in the simulation, but her involvement in the tragedies of his story still felt fresh, even now. It wasn't a strong disgust, but it was enough to make itself known.
She didn't ask his name, she didn't exchange any small talk, she never spoke a single word. The girl simply looked him over, an almost pitiable look hiding behind a stoic mask, tapped out a few keys on her monitor, and gestured him to the door behind her. He offered her the same treatment in return, wordlessly nodding and pushing past her, barely sparing a glance at her. Partly, he just wanted to get this all over with, the other part of him didn't want to give himself time to see how misleading the characterization of Emerald was in the simulation, but most of him… Most of him was steeling himself for what was ahead.
He hadn't come running in blind. No, he'd done his fair share of homework on the school before today, hoping some semblance of familiarity would return to him through the research. And his research bore only the most rotten of fruit. It wasn't the School's student scores that caught his eye, nor the multiple buried articles about accusations of the more unsavory or abusive methods employed in the curriculum. No, when he closed that door behind him, his lungs tightened and his teeth ground into one another. He'd spent all morning letting it all out in the foggy bathroom mirror, saying every vile and disgusting thought that festered within his mind, hoping that he could unload all that excess pressure before he had to hide it away behind a façade of politeness.
Yet, the moment he entered, he immediately found himself looking for anything to distract him. The walls were crowded, slowly bending to make the other end of the room tighter, the ceiling was too high to focus on and the low lighting made sure only the desk before him was highlighted. He had no choice but to look at it. And on that desk, he found her eyes, those amber eyes, tinged with malice, coupled with that artificial smile. There, the memories came to him in flashes, so distant and now fake, yet the wounds still screamed like they were fresh. She was empty, so, so empty, and even in reality, he let her mere presence get to him.
He shouldn't have been surprised now, and he shouldn't have been surprised back when he first looked her up. Of course, who else but Cinder Fall was going to fill in the role of his previous employer and discipline of the most unsubtle villain layer next to a volcano lab. There was no guilt or correction to give himself in associating her with villainy. There might have been before but meeting her in person told him everything he needed to know with just one glance. She exuded that aura of superiority, of sick and cruel pleasures that flinched with disgust at him. Even the lazy look she cast towards whatever paper she'd been reading before he entered was splattered with an almost silent evil laugh. "Excuse me, Mis-"
"Eleven O'clock, right on the dot." It was deliberate, waiting for him to talk just so she could cut through his greeting, he could tell when her grin stretched a fraction further at stopping him in his tracks. Only when he didn't try again to continue his greeting did she raise her head, eyes trained on him like a hungry predator playing with it's food. "I always admired your punctuation, Mr. Jenkins."
"C-Cinder!?" It was like stepping into the spotlight on a stage. You rehearse all the lines over and over until your tongue goes numb, you sit in the back room so sure of what you'd say and how you'd compose yourself. And yet, the moment you step out there and face the crowd, suddenly your voice goes weak and every line dies fresh in your throat, only allowing you the simple humiliation of choking out the obvious.
Perhaps it was in his favor to sound so gobsmacked, it seemed to please her greatly. Such a limp delivery, so weak and pathetic under her gaze; it must have made her feel so much more powerful to have that effect on him. "That's Miss Fall to you. A vacation is no excuse to forget your respect for your betters." As the condescension dripped from her lips, keeping control of both the flow of the conversation and his ability to respond, Jaune could still see Pyrrha on her knees, an arrow buried in her chest.
"Uh, sorry, Miss." He wavered to her superiority, though he'd admit he didn't know for which end it was for. Was he simply trying to avoid any hassle by just going along with it? Was he just sucking up to his new boss? Was he too distracted to make a firmer reply? Or perhaps it was as simple as his fears presented it; that even with the knowledge that her actions against him were nothing more than a nightmare, she was still able to dig her nails deep into his heart and clamp down on any backbone he'd built up over the years. He was still afraid of her.
Without warning or permission, a single finger lazily stretched out the scratch his chin. She had to reach out to touch him, he was standing over her, but it felt like he was the one sitting down while she stood imposing and tall above him. "Being the benevolent and generous personality I am, I'll let it slide, but do keep your head on straight from now on, hm?" It all felt so familiar, so normal. His heart-stopping cold, his throat tightening, and his body refusing to do anything other than submit to her touch. Her nail dug a mere inch into his skin, not enough to cause pain, but enough to leave a mark, enough to tell him that she was there and that he was letting it happen.
It came down in a straight line, a trail of fading red marks descending towards his neck. The more her finger moved, the more strained his throat became until he felt much akin to a swollen balloon, ready to pop at the slightest prick from her thin, manicured claws. "Otherwise, it'll just twist off." She drew out every action down to her syllables, voice low and sultry, knowing she didn't need to be loud for him to focus on every single word. She waited, by god she waited, watching his expression fall as any temptation to resist fading. When she was satisfied with his reaction she reached over to the side of her desk, digging her fingers into a small pot of green wrapped toffees, procuring one and holding it out for him like a dentist offering a child a lollipop for not whining too much. "Candy?"
He took the condescending treat in his hand, the rough and humid feel of the wrapper making his throat run dry. "Yes. Thank you. Very much." Every word came through gritted teeth and withheld bile, a mantra of 'don't make trouble' repeating in his mind like the most annoying tunes. She knew this, of course, knew that he was aware of what she was doing. She didn't need him to be happy with the arrangement, she just needed him to understand that he had no choice but the ones she gave him.
"How's your wife doing?" Cinder finally gave him the small mercy of being able to sit, gesturing towards a narrow-looking wooden stood in front of her desk.
"Still divorced." He responded without pause, fighting desperately to take inspiration from Ren's own blank and stoic impressions. Just because he had to put up with Cinder doesn't mean he had to make it obvious.
"Excellent." The way her cheeks puffed up as her lips stabbed into their underbelly disturbed him. Her skin stretched just an inch far enough to make the whole act artificial, as if she were made of plastic rather than flesh, covering up nothing more than empty space. "And your little pup, hope he's keeping his nose clean."
He didn't like that. He didn't like that she knew he had a son, that she said it in such an insulting tone, that she used the boy to make him flinch. He had no memory of his son's very existence, but he already felt that fatherly instinct burn bright and furious. "He's, uh… Fine, as far as I kn-"
"As much as I love to show a vested interest in your life," That winning smile faded into a businesswoman's thin line and narrowed focused eyes. "we should get straight down to business. All this pointless chit chat is just getting in the way." Her hands came together in a simple gesture, streamlining the condescending tone with her fingertips pointing down at him. She made a show of visibly wincing before directly looking at him. "You've been out of the game for a while now, haven't you? Your bones have softened, your hair's grown out," She gave one last scrutinizing look over him, leaning over and adopting a 'sympathetic' look. "and the less said about your face the better."
With the deconstruction of his self-confidence underway, the energy shifted drastically as she pushed off the desk, sending her chair spinning and her jumping to her feet. She stood tall, oozing confidence as she stalked around the desk. Perching herself on the corner, she lifted one leg over her knee, showing a generous amount of skin that would have been tantalizing if it had been anyone else. With Cinder, it only drew attention to just how sharp her high heels looked and how close they were to Jaune's eye. "However, I always saw potential in you, Jinky. And I'm sure that someone in your position understands how lucky they are to still even have a job."
Jaune felt his body freeze up, his ear-catching the obvious implication in her words. "My position?" He rationalized to himself that she could have just meant him being an unqualified idiot with little job prospects, but something in her tone, in that reminder made him wonder if there was more context. Something he'd done that she knew would hold him back, something he'd forgotten.
"I'm just saying, if I were you, I'd be ready to pull out all the stops and work like hell until you get back into the flow of things." Another lean forward bringing her a hair's width away from puncturing his vision on her pike-like heel, her tone losing all false sincerity and charm and instead of lingering on a dangerous edge. "Can't be having another janitor slacking off on us now, can we? We run a tight ship at this academy."
"I'm… Here for a janitor job?" It sounded like the most mundane sentence to say out loud, yet on the inside, his heart trembled in clenched fright at the prospect of her answer.
"Why, of course!" Her hands were upon him and he was not in the least bit comfortable with it. Sharp nails scraped across the back of his neck, pulling him forward, narrowly avoiding an eye-gouging, and pressing his cheek against her ankle. "The facilities have been a real mess without your personal touch, so I hope you're ready to get your elbows greasy." Her tone did not change in the slightest, only growing quieter and more precise in how it burrowed into his ear, as if it were echoing through her very bones calling out from the flesh she pressed him into. "I trust you to clean up all the messes on the premises. And any other mess I choose." He didn't dare try to look up at her, didn't even think of meeting her eye after it all set in. Whether because he feared displeasing her, or because the very thought of all the images that would flash forward to contextualize her words filled him with a heavy, disgusting shame. "Are your duties clear to you, Mr. Jenkins?"
It was all quite clear. He was the Janitor, he kept Sanctuary clean, so lifelessly spick and span. He made the model and kept it on it's pedestal, she broke his bones for elbow grease and spilled his blood for that shine. He made sure that no one ever saw the stains made by the reputable and spotless Cinder Fall. "Yes… Miss Fall. I understand perfectly."
"Excellent." It felt as if a lifetime had passed in motionless silence, not a heartbeat to hears nor a breath to be taken. Just him, the shame, and the thoughts that just wouldn't budge. It was only Cinder now sitting back by her desk, sliding over a small folder to him, that reminded him that time was still proceeding as normal. "Here's your map, your keys, and a little welcome back card from yours truly." He'd later find that the card was a sad little piece of faded cardboard, sending regards for a speedy recovery for a miss Tera Arc and expressing disappointment in the death of her pet, crudely signed by Cardin Winchester. "The cleaning supplies shed has been relocated to the other side of the grounds, so make sure to pay attention to your map." He barely took it all in, picking up the folder as he silently rose from his chair, desperate to avoid looking at her before heading over to the door. "No wandering off into places you shouldn't be in."
Jaune would later tell Ruby that he was fine, that he took everything on the chin, stuck it out, and didn't let Cinder get to him. He would tell her he didn't tremble, that his voice was clear and deadpan. He would tell her many things. "You know me, Miss. I've always been good at following directions."
"You should know, I'm great at following directions." Ruby liked to imagine that she said that with enthusiasm, a tone boasting a cavalcade of energy, confidence, and professionalism. In her head, she didn't speak with a quiet squeak, hot on the trail of an outburst of thought dying in tone. In her head, she stared directly into the old man's eyes, lips forming a tight smirk, instead of her own dull vision staring at the ground, lips trembling with a nervous smile.
Suffice to say, the reality was not making her look good so far.
When she finally lifted her head to face the old man's reaction, she was met with a stern gaze framed by fading ginger eyebrows. Following his gaze, she found her hand gripping the side of the counter, right next to a sign spelling out 'Wet Paint: Do not touch.'. "Okay, I have some room to improve, but having the energy and determination to improve has to count for something, right?"
Nerves had a way of making you perceive time in inconsistent beats. For all Ruby knew, it could have been minutes or days since she first stumbled into the store, an eager bounce in her step as she dragged Ren in to back her up, wielding a 'Help Wanted' poster ripped in half all the way up to the counter. She had such courage back then, courage that shriveled up into nothing around the second time the store owner told her to buzz off.
He was a stout man, a little shorter than average, covered in more hair than flesh. It made it really tempting for Ruby to compare him to the head of a mop, but even she knew that would be extremely rude. "I told you, there's no job for you here." Bushy eyebrows flapped downwards as his eyes narrowed, wrinkled fingers sharply waving her off. Ruby couldn't decide whether that made his words less or more powerful. "Not anymore."
To her credit, she thought that he purposely left his tone too ambiguous to gauge what he really meant, so it wasn't quite a blow to her confidence not to catch it. Still, she managed to find some emotional ground and adjusted her position by the counter, gripping the edges to push herself up a little taller. "But you have a 'Help wanted' sign right outside!" Initially, she raised her hand in what she assumed to be a powerful gesture, pointing directly at him with the sheer 'fact' of her statement powering her confident stare. Only, she then realized that she was still holding the ripped-up advertisement in that same hand, which immediately shot a hole in her enthusiasm and let her sink into a sheepish grin. "…Had a 'Help Wanted' sign outside. Heh."
There was that narrowed eyed look again, like he was scrutinizing a particularly annoying piece of litter in his path that he knew no one else was going to pick up. For a brief moment, she heard him exhale a strong sigh and shake his head, voice lower this time. "That sign should have been taken down weeks ago. Must have forgotten, yes."
Casting her gaze south, she looked towards Ren for support. However, it seemed his version of support was to hang his jaw low, always stopping himself from speaking just as he was about to offer hope. Still, he ended it on a warm smile and an encouraging nod. She had this, she just needed to believe in herself, or friendship, or in the heart of the wallet or something. The belief was the key factor here. Pulling herself together, she tried the next method of desperate pleading; appealing to emotion. "Look, Gramps, I know I made a bad first impression." A pause as she tried to tone down the aggressive undercurrent in her voice. "A very bad first impression. But you can't just shoot me down without so much as a job interview!"
"Actually," Ren's interruption started out strong, but he found his voice fading into an awkward hum as Ruby turned to shoot a not-so-subtle glare at him. "he's completely in his right to do that..."
She tried to hide the pleading edge to her look as she returned her gaze to the man. "Not helping, Ren."
Another cigarette-choking growl lurched from the bottom of his throat as the man pushed off the counter, moving towards a stack of boxes at his back. His body language shifted to a more rigid stance and his hand lazily waved her off, signifying he was back in work mode. "There's nothing for you here." He paused to pick up one of the boxes, delicately squatting down with a grimace of pain even Ruby could see from there. In that split second, the moniker of 'Old Man' became a much more fitting description, as if the moment his back turned on them, his features then withered by both a physical and emotional toll. "Please, just leave me be."
His please struck a familiar chord in Ruby's heart. Not a memory or an identity, but an emotion, a cold one that she'd felt fester in her stomach since they arrived in this cynical reality. He didn't communicate it intentionally, or even overtly, but it was there. The way his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the boxes, goaded on by the subconscious humiliation of how difficult a simple task had become for him. Whether it was old age itself or another source, his body was starting to whimper, and he was powerless to stop it. The last thing he wanted was an audience for it. Pulling on this string only further enflamed Ruby's need to appease and get through to this stranger, though the darker more insulting part of her mind gleeful questioned if her reasons were strictly heroic. "Come on, can't you just give me a chance? I'll work cheap, never moan and and I'll work my butt off until I go numb."
She didn't move past the counter, feeling to defy his space would be considered an insult. Instead, she resigned herself to making her tone and gaze as enthusiastic as possible. Jaune had always told her that her energy was infectious, that she smiled so brightly that others became instinctually happier for reasons they couldn't explain. If even a smidge of that statement was true, she'd try her darndest to give her energy to the man. "I'm, like, the perfect worker."
He looked towards her, but not at her. His head turned, but his gaze couldn't quite meet hers. It wasn't that he looked past her or even through her, but the way his eyes widened and his muscles tightened, it was like she could see an image projected from his eyes alone, like he saw something else standing in her place for the briefest of moments. And from that image, he bled great shame as the weight of the crate became too much to bare and it broke from his fingertips, hitting the ground with a loud thump.
Ren's fingers lightly prying at her shoulder was unexpected, but she managed not to jump in fright as he gently urged her back. She scanned his face, looking for sympathy behind his general diplomatic grace, wondering if he too could see the way the man looked upon them; if he could hear the silent guilt. "I understand she can seem like a bit of a handful at first, Sir, but I can vouch for her. Can't find a more trustworthy employee." Ruby naturally attempted to assume a more rigid and upright stance to further empower his point, putting on a face she'd mostly seen her sister use back when she was being grilled for confessions from her father. Tense, pronounced, and was one or two irritating strands of hair away from twitching and giving the whole game away. "The few employees you have are barely keeping up with service as it is. With a business like this, surely you have at least one position open."
It was in Ren's mention of the business itself that Ruby had realized another embarrassing factor of her sudden and rushed entrance: she had no idea what this shop sold. Was it even a shop? What had been the title on the poster? Mentally, hindsight was tearing her asunder for her grievous error, but on the outside she found her muscles wind even tighter trying to conceal her sudden lack of knowledge. Working quickly as Ren warmed up the owner, her eyes took in her surroundings, looking for signifiers, signs, prices, anything to relieve her of this self-made tension.
There were dust dispenser descending from the ceiling, similar to the Dust 'Till Dawns ones from her first encounter with Torchwick back in the simulation, so it was natural to assume this was a dust store. However, before she could settle on that answer her eyes moved further left to linger over the array of tables and chairs, arranged like diner compartments pushed up against the windows. Atop them, there were empty plates and cutlery wrapped in tissue and some laminated paper she couldn't read from this distance. So, wait, it was a restaurant too? The wallpaper was drowning in tropical patterns, yet pictures of Atlas's icy tundra's hung from the walls, and the staff seemed to be dressed up as some sort of robotic cosplayers? What the hell was the theme here?!
"Well… It would be nice to have a fresh pair of hands that aren't taking smoke breaks every ten minutes…" Ruby's investigation was cut short by the return of the man's voice, accompanied by the feeling of his glare burrowing into her soul once more. She gave the most convincing smile she could muster, which is to say a smile too wide to be comfortable and too toothy to be real. Immediately, his face recoiled. The image was there again. "But I can't…" Once more, he became weak, leaning even further on the stability of the counter before him, shaking his head. "I can't."
Ruby clasped her hands together, still pushing on that flicker of doubt. She needed this, just one win today. Just one. "Just let me prove myself, Gramps! What do you got to lose?"
"Outside of my patience?"
"Please?"
After what could have been one minute or ten, with Ren and Ruby stretching out their lips ina desperate attempt to look convincing, the man's expression relented. Whether out of fatigue or mercy, he gave a reluctant sigh. "Fine." Despite the grumbling flavor to his tone, Ruby noticed that he seemed to stand stronger as he made his way past the counter. "A job interview at least."
She was still for a moment. Then Ren leaned closer and gave her the quiet advice of not doing her special victory dance. She frowned, but nodded as she took off to follow the old man. "Awesome!" Immediately, she could feel Ren cringing at her back as she yelled this out with a high pitched squeal. The old man didn't seem shocked, just slightly bemused by the supposed adult's rather childish action. Quickly, Ruby straightened out her posture and scratched the underside of her chin, taking on that contemplative and stony look she'd seen other 'professionals' do. "I mean; naturally. I am most pleasantly grateful?"
"I'm regretting this already…" He shook his head, gesturing to the table by the back for their seats. From there, the two were allowed to sit at an even level, eye to eye, in comfort. However, for Ruby, this just built up the pressure that was strangling her lungs and reminding her that she'd never been in a job interview before. Calm, think calm things. It's just a bunch of questions, like a pop quiz! And they're all questions about me, and no one knows me better than me. "Name?"
She just had to answer simple questions, she couldn't go wrong. "Ruby Rose!"
"Your ID says, Audry." He answers flatly, eyes narrowing in a scowl rife with suspicion. Between his fingers, he held her ID card up towards his nose, her true name emboldened by a bright, sharp, and bold font choice. She didn't know when she gave him her card, only that she was very much regretting it twenty times over. "You trying to play me?"
"Oh, no, no, no!" One simple question. She chided herself even as she forced her hands forward like a warrior showing they were not armed. I just had to answer one simple question: What is my name? Nothing could go wrong, except I managed to make everything go wrong in one second flat! Shamefully, her head sunk low, the sigh that escaped being as soft as it was quiet. "It's just… Uh… I don't like my name?"
Ruby waited for rebuke, she waited for a scathing insult or the piercing effect of his gaze. She waited for yet another reminder that reality truly was laughing in her face. Yet, all she heard after a moment was a gentle, almost understand 'hmpf' from the man. Looking up, she found he was leaning back in his chair, looking over her card once more, eyes darting between her picture and the woman before him. Eventually, he shrugged. Nothing dramatic, nothing heavy, just a simple shrug. "Well, you can't work under a fake name."
A nod, a level voice. Don't push your luck. "O-Of course."
"Any experience working retail?"
If there was one thing she had been told about job interviews, it had been a variation of 'Ask dumb questions, exaggerate and only tell half-truths'. "I was the number one customer at Dust 'Till Dawn? Helped my Dad repair walls every time I broke them!" Her heart lurched, so desperate to sing the praises of her huntress experience, to tell tall tales of the countless hours she could spend tearing through hordes of Grimm in a tightly knit unit. But no, she could not bring herself to speak that lie, no matter how much she wished it were true, she could not bring that sweet delusion to her tongue for her gag reflex wouldn't accept the dishonesty. Instead, all she was left with was ill-thought-out humor at best. "And a lifetime of free friendly consultation."
Another pause as he turned to his scroll, swiping through data she couldn't hope to see. She never liked pauses. This wasn't a stage play, there was no need to keep her in suspense. "You have a resume?"
It felt like every question set her up for defeat, yet she followed through anyway. "…Nope." Backed into a corner, all her body could muster was her endless and often flagrant optimism. She put her hand over her chest, rocking back and forth to a silent beat. "But I do have an honest heart and sugar for blood!"
For the first time, she heard the man chuckle. Now, it didn't sound like a normal chuckle, more like his throat was being tickled mid-groan, but it was a chuckle all the same. Something that gave her hope, made her lips twitch a little. "You'd get along with my Niece."
She clasped her hands together, seeing the only thread that had made progress and tugging on it hard. "And I get along with nieces! That's gotta count for something."
He looked upon her face, so bright, so full energy, but clouded by desperation. She wore her heart on her sleeve, a heart cracked that gave the man so many questions. It was like staring into the eyes of someone who knew their days were numbered, who desperately gripped onto a final chance that remained, otherwise trapped in their fate. After a moment of consideration, he slumped in his seat, disposing of any shred of professionalism he had. He looked at her, really looked at her. Not to scrutinize, not to nit-pick details, just giving her a serious look. "Why are you so desperate for this job?"
It was such a painful question. It made it clear how pathetic she felt, like she was watching herself fight tooth and nail for something so mundane. "Because I want to get paid?" There was no thought put into her answer, just a desire to move on before she looked vulnerable in front of a total stranger. At her answer, she felt his goodwill begin to ebb away. She was wasting his time. Despite herself, she felt it worse to bother him with her own burdens without allowing him rightful context. It wasn't fair to him. Her late mother, however fake she may be, taught her respect; and even now she wouldn't dare to so carelessly throw such respect away even if the person was a stranger. "Wait, wait, don't look so annoyed, I mean-" A sigh, heaving a wave of emotional contradictions from her lungs. She rested her hands on the table's surface, clinging together through sweaty fingers as she returned his curious gaze. "Honestly? I'm not here because I need the money, not really. It's just I need, need, a job. Something to do that makes me feel needed." It started off quiet, unsure of her own words. Ruby was hardly one who looked inward, seeing her problems mostly as something she could whittle away at with enough hard work in her physical attributes.
Follow her opening doubts there was silence, echoing throughout the room as a reminder of what her voice carried. She knew the old man could hear it too, feel it too. For he regarded her with sympathy… No, empathy. She could see it as she saw it earlier, that flash of reignition. He didn't recognize her to be certain, he recognized the plight. He fears being unneeded just like her. "See, I got this dumb leg. It wasn't always dumb, it used to be smart. I mean, good. I mean…" There was a wince as she stopped once more, like a visceral, but distant pain, had shot up the leg as fresh as the day it had broken. However, sharing a look with the man, she felt her confidence boom, she felt the desire, no, the need to speak explode. She stood, even on that blinding pain, she stood. "Ever since it broke, everything normal suddenly became a hassle. Walking took effort, running is like I gained fifty pounds and helping other people just has 'em laughing at me." This leg, this pain, the constant inconvenience; it made her feel weak. And yet, the recognition numbed, not the weakness itself, but the sting of shame. She felt weak, yes, but many people felt weak. It wasn't odd of her to feel so. She was a normal girl, with normal knees, with normal fears. "I don't like feeling useless, I need to contribute in any way I can. You can have me scrubbing floors with a toothbrush or have customers use me as a footstool, anything. I just don't want to feel like this anymore."
"Like you're powerless?" He didn't skip a beat, dropping his scroll, his notes, the works to the table surface and completely ignoring them. "So, you got a bad leg, huh?" She nodded. He nodded. She giggled. He had a hint of a smile. None of them knew the joke, just that there was probably a funny punchline. "No resume, no recommendations, no experience, and a medical condition, huh?" He leaned back further, sucking air loudly through his teeth, activity preying on the anxiety eating away at her heart. It was a minute later that he finally shrugged. "Oh well, we all have to start somewhere."
The 'oh well' made her shoulders drop, leaving a couple of seconds of delay before her brain heard the rest of his reply clearly. "…Oh wait, is that a yes?" A nod was all she needed to throw away any sense of professionalism, punch the air and cry out a garbled mix of aimless squealing and 'wahoo'. "Yes! Thanks, Gramps, I won't let you down!" Before the man could answer, she had already on the other side of the table, grabbing hold of his chair just as his surprise made him lose his balance. "I can start right away, what's my first task?"
Mr. Loakai, as Ruby read off his name tag, raised a strict finger to roughly prod into her nose. "Well, first of all, you can stop calling me Gramps. I'm not that old." His finger moved to gently smacking her hands off his chair, letting him slide back against the table. Back on solid ground, he jabbed his thumb behind him, towards a dinky looking door behind the counter. "Go out back, get yourself a uniform, and then you can help my Niece sort out our storage room."
"Right away, Sir!" Ruby gave her best salute, which resulted in her accidentally smacking her forehead, sending her stumbling into an awkwardly rushed walk. Still, she kept that giggling smile, waved back at Ren. "Oh, and thanks, Ren. You really saved my bacon there." She managed to avoid tripping on anything else on her way to the door. Well, until she got to the foot of the door where, in her excitement, she practically charged into it and damn well near ripped it off it's hinges. The door was undamaged, but the last thing the two men saw of her was her body tumbling through the doorway, something hitting the ground, and then a laugh. "Ooo, my first real job, how exciting!"
With a silent question of if it were too late to change his mind weighing on his brow, Loakai turned back to Ren, still processing it all. "You got quite the little spitfire there." He managed to mutter.
Ren held his hands up defensively, trying to play it all off with a nervous laugh. "I take no responsibility for her." He quickly noticed the man wasn't going to respond, instead focusing on Ren with the same flair of recognition he had for Ruby, only more weary instead of empathetic. It wasn't a scrutinizing look, it was one of self-doubt, one that Ren found unnerved him more than he thought it would. "You keep looking at me weirdly, have I done something?"
There was an accusation on the tip of Loakai's tongue, a conclusion he wanted to test, but the moment it was ready to voice itself his head shook it all away. "No, no…" He spoke wearily, looking off to the side, squinting at his thoughts. "At least, I don't think so." Turning back to Ren, he laughed, a genuine hearty laugh, as the tension quickly eased. "There's just something familiar about you. I think I've seen you somewhere before…" His fingers rose up again, pointing dead center at his right eye, two tips squeezing together as if to focus his gaze. "But then I see your eyes and all resemblance gets blurry."
"You might have." Ren admitted. He could have lied to the man, or he could have tried to divert the question entirely, but it had been a long day and such things were so tiresome. More than that, it was uncomfortable, Ren had to admit. Perhaps the man could shed some light on Ren's past, if indeed they had crossed paths before. But there was something in Ren's gut, something that warned him that it wasn't worth it. "Though I'm sorry to say that if we have met, I wouldn't know about it. Been having a bit of trouble with my memory."
Loakai took this as good-natured, chuckling once more. Ren was at least thankful that the man's interaction with Ruby, however odd, had seemingly had a relaxing effect on him. "That just means you're sick of your life already, ey?"
"Might just be." Ren offered a polite smile before pushing himself up. "Anyway, I've got somewhere to be now that I know Ruby's safe here." Truly, he hadn't meant to stay that long. The longer he took to help Blake's 'research', the longer he left her tearing her hair out. But it had been impossible to muster the resolve to leave Ruby alone, not when she looked so scared under the gaze of her future employer. Even in such a mundane reality, Ruby's power as a leader and a friend was stronger than ever; even if she was unaware of it. "Have a nice day, Sir."
A room away from Ren's departure, Ruby hurried as fast as her one good leg would allow her through a canopy of shelves and boxes. She still couldn't figure out what the actual business here was, but she was sure it would become clear when she got her first task… Hopefully. The lighting was quite dim, the bulb swinging above her head seemingly on it's last breath as it's bright gaze barely reached the floor, leaving Ruby with the comfort that at least it was harder for anyone to have seen her safety-hazard entrance.
Through the maze of essential junk, she could hear the harsh squeal of metal scraping against the floor from the other side of the room. It didn't take her long to approach the sound, banging on a metal shelf to let what she assumed was the aforementioned 'niece' know she was here. She didn't want to risk sneaking up on the poor girl by accident and getting a punch to the gut. "Oh, are you allowed to be in here?" The screeching came to a stop as a sweet, though slightly nasally, feminine voice called out to her. Even without seeing her, Ruby could feel an energy to her voice, like every few words came with a sudden jump. "Because if you're not, I may or may not be reaching for a weapon." It was spoken with enough laughter to be a joke and enough laughter to be a threat.
"Newly appointed employee, nice to meet ya!" Ruby started off peppy and welcoming, shuffling closer to the voice as she heard the metal screeching again. The closer she got, the more a certain uncertainty crept into her voice, that feeling that there was something she was missing. "Are you the Niece, your Uncle said you needed help back here."
"I love meeting new people! Wait just a second, I'll be right out."
That voice. There was no mistaking that voice.
"Wait, you're…"
Pissed. Absolutely pissed everywhere except the damn urinal.
It only took an hour on the job for Jaune to immediately develop respect of legendary proportions for the fragile-looking Old Man that acted as the janitor back at Beacon. Jaune, like most people, didn't exactly pay much attention to his surroundings when he was in the bathroom. Concentrate on his grip, keep his eye on the ball, and try not to veer off to the side before racing to the sink before the room started to smell. He never looked down at the ugly floor tiles or even dared to wonder about the other people who'd been in there, those just weren't sanitary thoughts, but at least he was damn sure he didn't leave a mess.
Blake and Ren get to return to their high paying jobs, and Ruby could probably charm herself into a respectable job. But Larry Arc? Oh, of course, he couldn't do more, he's stuck with his head under a filthy urinal, clippers on his nose, extra-thick rubber gloves cutting off the blood circulation in his fingers, and dragging along a bucket of soap. He might as well call himself Larry Butz for all the horridly colored sludge he had to wade through. Grimm were bad, but even fighting them didn't cost as many casualties as his cleaning supplies.
It was hard work, dirty work, and he felt nothing but spite for the little demons that ran wild in these halls as he emerged from the damned bathroom, smelling like death. He could already imagine himself returning to the apartment, looking like some sort of slime-themed movie monster, and purifying himself in the busted shower for a few hours. Oh, how heavenly that mildly warm occasional spurt of water would feel nipping at his tainted skin. He had come out into a daunting stretch of bland cobbled walls, flickering torches, and trophies caged in the richest looking material one could by. It was daunting both for the aesthetic and because he could not imagine cleaning so much ground in one day, and he did not know the first thing about polishing suits of armor.
"Damn kids need to learn how to aim…" It was in that moment, resting his chin atop the butt of his trusty mop, that Jaune cringed at his own reflection in the stainless glass case. His disgusted frown perfectly framed the golden miniature of a man struggling under the weight of a massive book, titled 'Most Disciplined Facility'. "Oh god, I've only been here a day and I'm already ranting like an old man." And worse, he was beginning to feel like an old man too. An hour on his knees, bending in ways he never thought possible had worn out his backbone more than that time Nora tried to induct him into her yoga routine. "Wait, how old am I?" It was almost instinctual for his fingers to stroke his thick 'could be used as a hand glider' mustache as he pondered the question. He'd already had a kid, a kid that had to be at least around eight or ten years old, and his hair- The question brought so much baggage with it that Jaune resigned himself to simply shaking his head. "No, Jaune. You don't want to go down that rabbit hole."
Continuing down the hall, he could only think of the next couple of rooms on his list of spots to hit. He knew bugger all about a lot of them, but the usage of terms like 'hall' and 'yard' made his bones plead to just collapse. In a desperate bid for a distraction, he turned his eyes back to the trophy cabinets that littered the corridor, marveling at the mean gleams bouncing off the corners of the finely polished metal frames. "Silver lining, I must have been one hell of a mad man with this mop if I consistently kept these halls so spotless." He pulled said mop out from it's drenched container as if to appraise it like one would a sword, hefting it up over his head. "I mean, when you think about it, I'm basically still a Huntsman: Fighting a secret war against the immortal danger that lurks in every stain. Wiping out the genocidal armies of bacteria!" With a deadly and decisive swipe, he completely obliterated to remains of someone's tuna sandwich stuffed into the corner, reducing it to a dissolving corpse that could threaten no surface any longer. In his other hand, he wielded a powerful spray bottle, looking impressively sharp and deadly in his eyes. "And I call this a bottle that is also a surface cleaner."
As if fate conspired for terrible dramatic timing, the alarm bell decided that very moment to break into song, hailing the army of younger feet to catch Jaune in the midst of his posing. There was no time to think as the merciless horde bore down open him before he even had time to register classroom doors opening. All he could do was move himself over his bucket and mop to protect them from the onslaught, student bodies both young and old barrelling past him with no concern or consideration. "Hey, watch where you're going; people are trying to walk here!" He called out as another student's bony knee slammed into his shoulder, and then the tip of their foot against the back of his head.
He knew he must find safety, or otherwise risk being drowned in the sea rushing bodies. Hefting the bucket up to his chest for extra protection, he rose up, standing tall above them all, and yet none of them seemed to register him, just their next destination. "Slow down, do none of you see the 'Wet Floor' sign?" It was an orchestra of squeaking shoes and ominous giggling echoing across the hall as he waded through. Soon enough, he let his brain reduce it all to stinging white noise, turning his full focus to survival. It was like any battle, stand tall, stand firm, and wait for any opening to pounce upon.
Against the raging rapids, his body was but a fly struggling against the force of a fan. Weakness in the currents did not come often, but he dived for them when he could, being dragged forward with every step he took towards the side of the hall. Still, it was progress even if it was not salvation. In fact, he realized too late that it was too much progress and his foot hit the wet patch of the floor hard and he was launched forward by his own lubed up momentum. Past the trophies, past the student horde, and even past the walls. "No, no, no, no." Before he knew it, his body careened right over the edge of the staircase and launched him over the first step.
Something hit the second step, he collapsed on his hand on the fifth, bumped his head on the wall beside the tenth step, and twenty steps later he was face down on the dust-covered stone with everything feeling numb. "Crap… Right on my-" He paused as he shifted onto his knee, rubbing the back of his head. He wanted to groan, but he knew his lungs could not take the pressure of expressing his pain at the moment. "Uh, whatever bone is screaming at me right now."
As he moved to his feet, body heavy and swaying oddly in the dark, he found it hard to see ahead of him. However, the first thing to hit him about this new room was the stench that attacked his nose. "That smell…" Like a rancid, cold copper fragrance that dug into his nostrils, so thick in the air that he could practically taste metal on the tip of his tongue. It carried the implication of life burned by pain and dried by time. He had an inkling of what the smell could be but didn't want to voice the answer, his stomach was already queasy enough. Stumbling his way forward, his blurred vision leaving him desperate to scramble for some sort of stability in the tight enclosure of the walls, he found his food scraping against something. It was not hard exactly, more like stepping in powder and feeling every tiny facet crack. The sight that greeted him only further the pungency of the smell and the fear set in his stomach. Even in the darkness, he could recognize the color, a once deep red puddle that had long since dried to a muddy brown with the texture of chalk. "That's probably just ketchup or something." He told himself with an unconvincing tremble in his voice. Had to be ketchup, because why would there be any dried blood down in the creepy lower levels of the school? Just ridiculous, he reasoned with himself. "Right, some students probably dropped their lunches down here." And yet, whether it be reckless curiosity or a sense of obligation, something pulled him forward, further and further into the bowels of the castle. "The smell's gotta be moldy food…"
For a time, he was fully submerged in the darkness, the distortion of his rattled vision fading as all colors were drowned out by the abyss. The rumbling of the students above had become a low hum that reverberated throughout the walls, the only concrete sound in his mind being his own hesitant footsteps. Now more than ever he felt those eyes in every corner he couldn't catch, waiting just beyond the outskirts of his vision, watching him intently as he ventured further. Fortunately, as the minutes ticked by, Jaune found his vision expanding across the void, eyes adapting to the lack of lighting bit by bit.
The tight enclosure before him was compact, stuffed to the brim with machinery, valves, and holes. It was wrapped in metal pipes brimming with heat, with what Jaune could only assume were boilers pushed off into the corner, while a pile of metal crates littered the space in front of him. Nothing really stood out, even as his eyes adjusted there was little color, just varying shades of grey with black splashed across them. The ominous stains trailing past it all were only highlighted by being the lightest shade of grey, running under the crates and towards the tail end of the room.
His stomach was telling him to let it go and run back to the stairs, but his heart slapped him over the head and urged him forward. He could hear Ruby's infectious squeal as she'd encourage exploring the ominous, suspicious enclosure; it could be rife with adventure. And no matter how dry his mouth became; he couldn't ignore the maybe-blood trail. What if someone was hurt down here? Could have been bleeding out for ages and no one could hear them this deep in.
Finally, he brought his body past the obscuring crate piles, breath held tightly as he crept closer to a very out of place door. Most things in this school generally matched the castle aesthetic, with the only exception being the computers and scrolls, most of the doors being at least painted to look like they were old wooden doors. Here, however, this door was large, clunky looking, and rusted. It was made up of various metal bars crossing over a protruding metal belly, looking more like a cheap bank vault than a normal door. There was a small window at the top of it, but it seemed that black tape had been placed over it from the other side. Never a good sign.
He gripped the long strip of metal he assumed was the handle, pushing it downwards and shaking the door. There was barely even a scream of rusted hinges giving up to tell him anything was even moving. With that attempt failed, he decided to glide his fingers over the door's front, hoping maybe he'd find some weak spot or mechanism he could trigger. However, he found himself pausing as his fingers scraped away at the layer of dust, finding a faded symbol emblazoned upon the heart of the door. A few more swipes and he came to a sudden stop. A very familiar logo, with three letters in place as initials: S.D.C. "That can't be right, this is a school; why'd an S.D.C brand be here." He backed away from the door, patting his hands together to beat away any grime left on his gloves. "Unless the S.D.C branched out into furnishing."
There was the temptation to write it off, that he didn't know about what this reality's version of the S.D.C's business venues, that finding a company logo down here wasn't anything suspicious. But that would be too easy, so of course, he was forced to comply with the sinking feeling that this was a little too coincidental, and he could no longer go on denying the bloodstains. He needed to get past this door. Behind the handle, he spotted a keyhole that looked like its outline had been melted, setting his hands shooting into his pockets, scrambling for his key ring. However, as he looked upon the assortment, he didn't need to try every one individually to feel that seed of doubt. Each key was labeled and in pristine condition, all classroom numbers, and certainly none of them looked like they were expected to work with a rusted old crusty keyhole. "Of course, the one door in this place I actually want to open and I don't have the keys to it."
From far behind him, back where the dim light flickered, Jaune could just hear a loud cry as something splattered against the hard stone floor. "Ew, it's everywhere!" High pitched, young, and louder. Must have been close to the stares. Sounded like another thing he needed to clean up. "Told you it was moldy."
This was followed by someone loudly hurling, and this time Jaune could hear the vomit sloshing about on the steps. "Not fair, you dared me to eat it!"
As much as the job disgusted him and his interests rested entirely on the door, Jaune knew he couldn't afford Cinder's ire if he wasted time down here trying to open a door he had little to no hope of opening. "Something to ask Blake about later." He concluded in his head, Blake would know how to handle this, she had the connections, she was smart and she had a much stronger stomach than Jaune ever did.
He took one last look at the door. 'No wandering off into places you shouldn't be in.', her words were like cold water dripping down his spine.
"Probably a good idea not to get caught snooping about anyhow…"
With that, he pinched his nose, sucked in his breath, and retreated to the steps.