Author's Note: A key to understanding Percival's vocabulary:

A Peoples: A Human

A Both: A Faunus

Anti-Ouchie Jacket: Armor

Non-Anti-Ouchie Jacket: All other forms of human clothing

The Things That Are Not Friends: The Creatures of Grimm. Being a font of universal love, dogs classify such beings as Things That Are Not Friends, with everyone else being a Friend by default

A Sharp Friend: A Housecat.

Magic Box: A Scroll

Content Warning: Loving and Consensual Human Sexual Relations, as contemplated by a confused puppy. Also, Qrow being an absolute asshole in training and beating on teenage girls. Finally, cluster f-bombs and general profanity in this chapter.

[/]

Being a dog, and a youngling at that, there was much in the ways of Peoples that Percival didn't quite understand. While he understood the purpose of the Anti-Ouchie Jacket that Daddy made for him - and it needed to be adjusted again soon, as Percival was growing into a big boy, just like Mommy said - he didn't understand why Peoples wore jackets that were not anti-ouchie in nature. But one thing that Percival understood, with all of the juvenile doggie wisdom at his command, was that he was, in fact, a Very Good Boy. After all, Mommy said he was, and Daddy said he was, so that meant that it had to be true.

This made Percival very happy, as all he wanted was to be the Goodest of the Good Boys. Soon, when he was a big strong Hunting Hound, he would be able to go out and help Mommy and Daddy against the Things That Are Not Friends, and that would make him a Helper!

Percival's tail wagged happily at the notion.

Still, while he may not be able to be a Helper against the Things That Are Not Friends just yet, that didn't mean that he couldn't practice being a Helper now. After all, Mommy could be so silly, dropping her non-anti-ouchie jackets everywhere when she and Daddy spent time alone. They were mating again, which Percival took to mean that he really must be a big boy now, as Mommy and Daddy were already trying to make more puppies. He didn't know how long it would take to finally make the new puppies, but mating made Mommy and Daddy happy - especially Mommy, who would sing to herself and dance in place and be all smiles for days after mating - so Percival, being a Very Good Boy, was content to be patient to meet the new puppies.

He didn't quite understand how two Peoples could combine to make a Doggo, but they must have managed it, because they were his Mommy and Daddy. Percival put his considerable canine intellect to work contemplating the problem as he gathered up Mommy's jackets and stacked them neatly by the foot of the bed, which was currently squeaking as Mommy and Daddy mated. Again.

Percival reasoned that if one of the Peoples in their Pack was half a People and half a Sharp Friend, then perhaps, her Mommy and Daddy had been a People and a Sharp Friend. Or perhaps, when two Peoples mated, there was a chance that the puppy would be a People, or a Doggo, or a Sharp Friend, or, in the case of the Sharp People in the Pack, a Both. Percival smiled a happy doggy smile as he congratulated himself on being so smart. After all, being smart would make him a better Helper, and that would mean that he would become the Goodest of Good Boys.

He struggled to keep from wincing when Mommy started making sounds in a very high pitch. Ever since she had taught Daddy how to kiss her between her legs, she made those sounds often when they mated. While Percival, being a Very Good Boy, was happy that Mommy was happy, a Doggo could only take so much. So, while Mommy was just getting started, Percival hopped up to the door and tugged on the rope tied around the doorknob. When the latch popped, he used his mighty Snoot to push the door open and walk out into the hallway, being careful to back up and use his butt to close the door back behind him. For some reason, Mommy and Daddy didn't like other Peoples to know when they were mating. It didn't make sense to Percival, but perhaps, given that there still weren't any puppies on the way, Mommy and Daddy didn't want other Peoples to know that they were bad at mating?

Percival huffed. Peoples were silly.

He trotted up to the other half of the Pack den, and stuck his nose on the pad that would open the door. The One Who Rubs Tummies had fixed the door, as it had obviously been broken to not allow him access to the Pack's entire den. The door popped loose, and Percival again used his mighty Snoot to push open the door, closing it behind him. The second half of the Pack den was nearly empty, as The One Who Rubs Tummies and The One Who Smells of Cinnamon were not in attendance. Neither were the rest of the Pack, The One Who Boops The Snoot, The One Who Pets Daddy, and The One Who Smells of Pumpkins, present in the room. Still, The One Who is a Sharp People was sitting at a desk, holding up her Magic Box and watching something.

"...the main point is, we never once stopped loving you, Blake, and we never will," a man's voice emanated from her Magic Box.

"We're just so happy that you're safe," a woman's voice added. "Please, baby, keep in touch. And know that we're so proud of you."

The Magic Box went quiet, but for some reason, The One Who is a Sharp People began crying at her desk, her Sharp Friend ears hanging low in sorrow.

Percival didn't know what made The One Who is a Sharp People sad, but she was Friend, and Pack besides, and Percival, as has been established, was a Very Good Boy indeed.

"Arf!"

Blake looked down, blinking away the tears that had obscured her vision. Sitting there at her feet, as if he belonged there, was Arc's stupid dog. She didn't know how he kept getting into Team RWBY's room, but she suspected that it was Ruby's doing.

"What, dog? What do you want?"

Percival canted his head curiously. If he didn't know any better, it almost sounded as if The One Who is a Sharp People wasn't happy to see him, but that didn't make any sense. Why wouldn't she be happy to see him? He was a Doggo, and a Very Good Boy to boot! Everyone would be happy to see him. She must still be upset about something, so he opted to gently nudge her hand where it was resting on her lap. Maybe she needed help to understand that petting a Doggo would make everything better?

The One Who is a Sharp People sighed. "Go away, dog. Shoo."

Percival just kept nudging.

"Why don't you hang out around people who actually like you?" Blake picked up Percival by the scruff of the neck and stood up with him. She walked across the room, then left to go return the puppy to his rightful owner. As she was about to knock on Team JNPR's dorm room, her keen hearing picked up a sound.

"Oh gods, Jaune! Right there! Right there!"

Blake winced at the pitch that her teammate could reach. She held up the stupid dog and stared at it for a moment. She supposed she couldn't really blame him for wanting to be elsewhere.

"Ugh, fine. You can hang out with me, but only until the humans are done...doing what they're doing."

The dog panted in a broad, canine smile.

Blake sighed again as she returned to her own room. She set the dog on the floor and made to open up a new book that she wanted to read, when she felt Percival headbutt her leg again.

"What, dog?"

He just kinda stared at her with big, soulful brown eyes.

She looked left, then right, then, once she was sure that no one was watching, she picked Percival up and plopped him onto her lap. "Here, just...just keep quiet while I read. Tell no one of this, dog."

Percival contented himself with a warm lap to snuggle on, which was made even better when The One Who is a Sharp People began absent-mindedly scratching behind his ears. He knew that she would eventually be won over.

After all, he was a Very Good Boy.

[/]

Qrow Branwen paced in front of the four teenagers who stood in a row before him, ready for the day's training. They had met in a grassy field on the Beacon grounds, to best train away from prying eyes. "Never before have I seen such a sorry troupe of losers presented as Huntresses for me to train."

"Hi, Uncle Qrow!" Ruby waved cheerfully, while Yang just nudged her sister.

He sighed. "Look, I'm doing a thing. While I'm training you all, I can't be whacky, fun-lovin' Uncle Qrow. On this field, you will call me 'Mister Branwen,' or just 'Sir.' You got that?"

His nieces nodded. "Good," he said. "Now, while we're training, I don't care who you are, who you're related to, or how famous you might be. You are all equally worthless in my eyes, so that means you all get new names. Shortstack," he said, indicating Ruby. "Firecracker. Mini-Winter."

"What happened to not caring about who we're related to?" Weiss challenged, still irate that this low-rent ragamuffin would dare to so much as look at her older sister.

"Fine, you are now Jailbait," Qrow said, without missing a beat.

"Excuse me?!"

"Wanna try again, see if I can come up with a worse one?" Qrow challenged. Weiss fell silent, fuming to herself. "That's what I thought," he said, moving on to stop in front of Blake. "And you are now Mittens," he declared. He waited for her to respond with outrage, but the cat Faunus didn't rise to the bait. "Congratulations, you're officially smarter than Jailbait here." He struggled to keep a straight face as Winter's little sister somehow managed to completely lose her shit without actually leaving formation. The girl was like a tiny, adorable Winter. Qrow actually felt bad that he was going to have to kick her ass.

"Now, I'm going to put you all through absolute hell," Qrow said. "You are gonna hate my fuckin' guts by the time our first week is over, but it'll be worth it if it means you don't eat shit and die out there. Now, I gotta pretty good idea about what Shortstack and Firecracker are capable of - don't get too comfy, I got plenty of ideas about how you both suck and need to improve - but Jailbait and Mittens are new. So, why don't we get acquainted with a little one-on-one dueling, eh?"

Weiss stepped forward to volunteer, brandishing her Myrtenaster with a flourish. Qrow merely cocked an eyebrow. "What, you still sore over the name, Jailbait?"

She sniffed. "A degenerate like you has no business even being in the same room as my sister."

He rolled his eyes. "Please. If I had a mind to go spelunking in your sister, I'd need a fuckin' torch and a machete for all the cobwebs. Her dusty snatch probably reeks of mold and -"

As expected, Weiss lost her temper and charged, her rapier glinting in the wan light of the early morning. Qrow merely sidestepped, catching her extended arm at the wrist. He pulled the girl forward and twisted her wrist, causing her to drop her rapier to the ground.

"And now you have no weapon," Qrow declared. "Lesson number one: never attack carelessly. You aren't just gonna be fightin' Grimm out there. You understand?"

"I do," Weiss gritted out between her teeth.

"Yeah, I don't think ya do," answered Qrow. With lightning speed, he sent a backfist smashing behind Weiss's ear, sending the small woman crashing to the ground. She shook her head to try to clear it as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Qrow, of course, took the opportunity to plant the tip of his boot directly into her gut, dropping her to the ground once more.

"What, you think the enemy is gonna let you take your sweet time to get up just because you're dazed?" He punctuated the point with another vicious kick to the ribs. "Because you're small?" Another kick. "Because you're a girl? Because you're a Schnee?" He stamped directly on her face, breaking the girl's nose. "If anything, that'll make 'em hit harder!" He finished his lecture by kicking his heel across her chin, sending the girl skidding across the ground with a pained cry.

He worried that he may have overdone it. She was, after all, an absolutely tiny thing, probably no more than ninety pounds soaking wet. Still, if she couldn't hack it in training, then it was better that they find out now rather than in the field, where her temper could get herself, or his nieces, killed. As it was, he was sure he was going to catch hell from Winter over dubbing her baby sister "Jailbait," to say nothing of beating down the girl as viciously as he had.

As he watched, the battered Schnee girl forced herself to her feet, spreading her hands open as claws, approximating an unarmed fighting stance. Her long hair, streaked with mud from where she had been sent rolling across the ground, had come loose, fanning around her. She had bruises on her face, and a gout of blood streamed down her face from her swelling, now-crooked nose, but in the look on that scarred face, Qrow recognized a fighter.

Underneath the fancy clothes, the overly elaborate fencing techniques, and the ridiculous hair, Winter's little sister had the spirit of a warrior.

"All right," Qrow said with a nod. "I can work with this."

Weiss made to charge again, only for a glyph to form underneath her, sending her flying to the side. The younger Schnee sister reached her discarded rapier, scooping it up in the middle of a somersault and turning to guard just in time for Qrow to send his greatsword, Harbinger, crashing down towards her. Weiss struggled to maintain the block under the weight of his strike, using her offhand to bolster the block and even dropping to one knee.

"You're too small to match strength-to-strength, Jailbait," Qrow advised. "You try to static block, you'll get fuckin' annihilated. Keep movin'. Deflect or avoid, don't block." He finished his second lecture by shoulder checking her off-balance, and then using the flat of his blade to swat Weiss some thirty feet through the air like a baseball. Qrow watched as the battered girl hit the ground, bounced, hit the ground again, rolled for a bit, and then forced herself to stand up, again, and hold her rapier up in a guard. Despite himself, he was just a little bit impressed.

"All right, Jailbait, that's enough for now. Shortstack, go help her set that broken nose back straight." He turned to the other girl that he had singled out earlier. "You ready to go, Mittens?"

The cat Faunus approached carefully, her sword and cleaver held out in front of her, ready to intercept any attack that he might send her way.

"You know, Mittens, I think you're probably gonna end up bein' my favorite. Probably gonna get you a bell or somethin'."

The Faunus girl finally took the bait. "You know, that nickname is racist."

"Look," Qrow said, with a wide grin and a sweeping gesture. "This is the field in which I grow my fucks. Gaze upon it, for it is empty."

It really was.

[/]

The problem with Nora Valkyrie's hammer was that it was very hard for the girl to check its momentum once it got going. Oh, it could hit like a bomb going off, but Winter Schnee had no intention of allowing the hyperactive girl to land a hit on her.

"Mind your range," she snapped, as, having successfully guided the heavy head of the hammer into the ground instead of her torso, Winter stepped inside the girl's inner circle of defense, forcing Nora to either backstep to try to re-establish range or abandon her hammer altogether, while the former soldier menaced her with her dagger.

Of course, those two options were what a sane combatant would choose to do. Nora, on the other hand, opted to pounce on her, crying "Battle Snuggles!" before enveloping Winter in a great bearhug, sending the two women crashing to the ground. Winter couldn't tell if the crazy girl was trying to be affectionate or if it was a genuine attack, but her crushing grip made the distinction irrelevant. The former soldier planted her leg over one of Nora's, leveraging into a roll to get atop the girl. Her arms were trapped at her sides, so Winter began repeatedly headbutting Nora with all her might, forcing the girl's grip to loosen. As soon as she got her arms free, Winter began bashing Nora about the head and face with her forearms and elbows, just ground-and-pound pummeling the girl into submission.

Finally, Winter stood, panting as she made to adjust her hair. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't dignified, but by the gods, did it get the message across.

"There will be no more 'battle snuggles,' is that understood?"

"...ow," Nora griped, from where she still lay on the ground.

"I will accept that as a 'yes, Miss Schnee.' Now, who is next?"

[/]

The first day of Jaune's friends receiving specialized training over the break between semesters mostly consisted of them getting the snot kicked out of them. Jaune himself frowned as he obsessively checked and re-checked their Aura levels on his Scroll, pacing in front of Glynda Goodwitch's office. Percival followed behind him, seemingly confused as to why Jaune was anxiously walking in circles but nevertheless deciding that it must be important.

Finally, Goodwitch opened up her door, frowning as she saw Jaune's nervous state. "Mister Arc. My apologies for being late, there was a call that I needed to complete. Is there a reason why you're doing your best to wear a crater into the floor?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Goodwitch. It's just...all my friends are out there fighting, and I'm here doing…"

"You're here to ensure that you are fit for purpose, just as your friends are in their own task," Goodwitch said, her tone brokering no argument. "You've spent the first seventeen years of your life getting life-or-death training; more will avail you little. While they are learning the mentality needed to best survive fights to the death against other people, you need to learn how to learn emotional coping skills that they all learned long ago. Do you understand?"

Jaune fidgeted. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now come in, and take a seat."

He closed the door behind him before sitting down in a surprisingly comfortable chair across from Miss Goodwitch's desk. Percival trotted alongside him before setting down by his feet.

Glynda steepled her fingers in front of herself, an unconscious imitation of Ozpin's contemplative pose. "Tell me, Mister Arc, how are you feeling right now?"

"I'm...worried," he said. "Worried about my friends."

"Mister Arc, they are all trained Huntresses and Huntsmen. How bad could their training possibly be?"

[/]

Ruby held up her hands, her empty, Crescent Rose-less hands. "Uh, can't we talk about this?" she asked nervously, backing away from 'Mister Branwen,' who had just snatched away her baby with contemptuous ease and then hucked it somewhere into the Emerald Forest.

"Sorry, Shortstack. Fair is fair."

"Aww, man."

Qrow decked his niece and sent her flying through the air.

[/]

Pyrrha grinned like a predator as she closed in on the former Specialist. Her armor glowed with a black and violet hue as she used her magnetism to levitate towards her opponent. "I think you'll find my combat prowess to be more than satisfactory," she growled, her blood up at a good fight.

Winter quirked an eyebrow. "Perhaps, but your battlefield awareness is simply terrible. This isn't a tournament fight, Miss Nikos, and your enemies won't be restrained by arena rules. As such, say hello to my little friend."

Pyrrha spun around, expecting some sort of attack, but she didn't see anything. More specifically, she didn't see the small Beowulf construct below her in the grass, one that Winter had summoned before their fight even began, and she didn't see as the creature made a suicide strike to detonate a canister of Lightning Dust against her armored shin.

"Gyaaaaaah!"

Her limbs locked and stiffened, her eyes rolled back into her head, Pyrrha's flame-red hair stood on end, and she convulsed wildly as the electric discharge ran through her body. On the parts of her body that weren't covered in armor, Winter - and the horrified Ren and Nora - could see the bones of her skeleton glowing through her flesh due to the intensity of the electric shock. After a few seconds, the Lightning Dust ran its course, and Pyrrha, unconscious, dropped to the dirt, steaming and still twitching and spasming.

"Give it a bit for the electric charge to fully dissipate," Winter said, stopping Ren from going to the aid of his teammate. "And when she wakes up, tell her that there are no rules in war, only victory or death."

"I'll get her," volunteered Nora. "I could use a bit of a pick-me up."

While she maintained her air of detached professionalism - and pointedly ignored the distressingly-erotic groans of Valkyrie as she absorbed the last of the electric charge from Pyrrha and declared it to be "the good stuff" - Winter was internally panicking at how she'd accidentally fried the Champion of Mistral. She had just intended to knock Pyrrha on her ass so she could hold her sword to the girl and extract a concession of defeat. The amount of Dust in that canister was in no way commensurate with the light show that they'd just seen. At a guess, Winter figured that Pyrrha's active use of her Polarity Semblance had inadvertently acted like an alternator coil, boosting the power of the electric charge far beyond what she'd intended. While this had potential implications for synergy with Valkyrie's Semblance, as well as potential electromagnetic manipulation of electrical systems in general, it also revealed a potential vulnerability to Lightning attacks that could cause serious damage to the girl if she wasn't careful.

Ultimately, Winter just decided to act as if it was her plan all along to blast Pyrrha into next week, and thanked her lucky stars that the girl had had enough Aura to prevent permanent injury.

[/]

"As I said, they are all trained Huntresses, under the direct supervision of fully-trained, elite operatives. They'll be fine," Glynda stressed, while Jaune took out his Scroll again, frowning as he saw Pyrrha's Aura just plummet. Either she was really cutting loose, or she'd just taken a monumental hit, neither of which boded well for her well-being.

"Give me the Scroll, Mister Arc," Glynda demanded.

"But -"

"Now, Mister Arc."

Jaune sighed and handed over the device.

"Your friends will be fine," Glynda emphasized. "This is part of what we mean by learning to exercise control. It's perfectly reasonable to feel these worries and anxieties for your friends, but you can't let them overwhelm your ability to focus on a task at any given moment. Look at me," she demanded, locking her emerald green eyes with his deep blue ones. "Take a deep breath. In. Hold it. And release. Good. Now, again. Deep breath in. Hold it. And release. How are you feeling?"

Jaune quirked an eyebrow. "Like I'm hyperventilating?"

"No one likes a smartass, Mister Arc."

He flashed a rueful smile. "Well, I just...it's just so there, you know? I mean, I used to feel things before, sure, but it was always like...like listening to muted conversation in a quiet room. Now, it feels like those feelings are being blasted at me from a speaker, and I can't just ignore them."

"That may be a good thing, Mister Arc."

"Is it? 'Emotions topple strategy,' after all."

Glynda frowned. "James told you that, didn't he?" she asked quietly, trying not to grimace as Jaune nodded. "James...General Ironwood, he falls on the opposite extreme, you see. He ruthlessly crushed his emotions, buried them, refused to listen to those feelings that told him that he was wrong, that told him that things didn't have to be this way. Keeping your emotions under control is important, to be sure, but so is listening to them, and understanding what your feelings are trying to tell you. Listening to your feelings is what led you here, after all."

Jaune sat back as he contemplated the issue. "So, how do I keep these emotions under control?"

"The first step is in recognizing when your behavior is being controlled by your emotions. Think before you act. Take time for introspection about how you have behaved in the past and how you might behave in the future. Inspect your feelings the way a warrior inspects his weapons. Understand their value, but do not grant it more significance than it merits."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Jaune said.

Glynda just groaned. She had a degree in psychology, sure, but being the closest thing to a therapist at this madhouse did not, in any way, prepare her for unpacking the cavalcade of issues that was Jaune Arc.

[/]

"Winter, I hate your boyfriend and want him to drown to death in a septic tank."

Winter chuckled as she used the sterilizing wipes to clean the abrasions on her little sister's face. "First of all, he isn't my boyfriend. And second of all, I'm going to guess that you did something foolish to rate the beating."

"Traitor," Weiss muttered darkly, while Winter affixed a bandage strip across the bridge of her nose, to help it set straight while her Aura repaired the broken cartilage. "Incidentally, he said terrible things about you. I was merely defending your honor."

"Oh were you, now?" Winter asked, amused. "And what did he say, in a very obvious ploy to make you lose your temper?"

Weiss flushed as she remembered that awful man's crude, lewd insinuations about her sister. "He said...he intimated...unkind things about your...lady flower," she finished lamely.

Winter gave a rare, outright laugh, much to Weiss's puzzlement. "Lady flower," she echoed. "Oh, Weiss, you adorable boob. Well, I'll be sure to have an appropriate response the next time I see the old drunk. Probably something about how his limp whiskey dick hasn't risen to the occasion since the Great War was breaking news."

"Winter!" Weiss was scandalized that her sister would not only humor such vulgarity, but actively engage in it herself. "That Branwen miscreant is obviously a bad influence on you, and - hey, stop laughing at me!"

"Okay, Mother," Winter chuckled again as she finished bandaging up her sister.

Weiss huffed. "I understand that, since I have laid claim to Jaune, you must make do with other, lesser men as potential mates, but surely you can do better than that. Jaune would never say such uncouth and horrible things about my lady flower."

"He wouldn't know anything about it," Winter scoffed.

"He'd better, with how often I've had him go down on it," Weiss muttered. She clapped her hands over her mouth as she realized what she'd blurted out, and worse, who she'd blurted it out to. Winter dropped the first aid kit that she'd been packing up, her eyes wide as saucers.

"What?!"

Weiss didn't even try to offer an excuse. She just took off at speed, her heels clacking along the tiled floor of Beacon Academy as she outright fled from her sister. It was only four years until graduation, after all. Surely she could avoid having Winter murder her Jaune for that long if they just hid until then, right?

Speaking of her boyfriend, she ran into him, literally, as he was leaving Goodwitch's office. She rebounded off of his armored chest - ow! - and was falling backwards, when he caught her in his arms.

"Weiss, are you - what happened to you?!" Jaune struggled not to panic as he took in her bruised and battered appearance.

"Oh," she said. "Just training."

Jaune's expression was dark. "Who did this to you?"

"Jaune?"

"Who did this?"

Weiss shook her head. "Jaune. It was training. It was rough, but it wasn't anything that you haven't endured yourself."

He shook his head. "I don't like it."

Her crystal blue eyes narrowed. "Well, you don't have to like it. I am a Huntress, and that means that sometimes, I'm going to get roughed up, just like you."

"Well, whoever did this is going to learn that you don't put hands on Weiss Schnee. It was Qrow, wasn't it?"

"Jaune." Weiss's voice was deadly serious. "I'm not a delicate vase to be put on display. I am a fighter, just like you. I get that you're not thrilled, but you can't go around attacking people for getting rough in training."

Jaune stared at her.

"Allow me to rephrase that," she said. "You shouldn't go around attacking people for getting rough in training."

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"What, so he gets to go around beating on a little woman just because it's 'training?'"

She glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you can't take that sort of punishment, Weiss, and you're not supposed to! I'm supposed to -"

"To what? To take the hits yourself so that poor, precious, delicate Weiss can just stand there and look pretty?"

"Yes!"

She stared at him for a long moment. Finally, Weiss just shook her head. "Jaune...you can't love the woman if you can't respect the Huntress." She pushed away from him and walked away, refusing to look back at him. Jaune made to follow, but then he heard a cough from behind him.

Glynda Goodwitch stood in the open doorway of her office. "Let her go, Jaune. You need to get your emotions under control, before you make things worse."

Jaune deflated. "I just...I mean…"

"I know. No one likes seeing someone they love get hurt. But trust me, you are going about this the exact wrong way."

[/]

Lunchtime was an impossibly awkward affair.

Firstly, all of them were battered, to some degree or another. Ren and Blake, being the most naturally cautious, as well as the most experienced in fighting for their lives, had come out the best, looking no worse off than just a particularly rough training session that they may have had under Goodwitch. At the other end of the spectrum, Weiss had her broken nose, Yang had also joined the "lost her temper and got her ass kicked" club, and Pyrrha's hair still stood on end, with sparks occasionally snapping in her red locks.

Jaune wasn't there.

"Yo, Weiss, is Sir Rusts-a-lot still in with the shrink?" Yang asked.

Weiss scowled at her food as if it were her mortal enemy. "He obviously needs more time there. Jaune has clearly lost his mind if he thinks that he can treat me like some kind of wilting flower that needs to be protected."

"I mean...aren't you?" asked Nora.

"Shut up," Weiss spat.

"So, trouble in paradise?" Yang asked, her tone chipper.

"Eat shit and die, Xiao Long."

Yang laughed. "Me-ow, the claws are out today! Isn't that right, Mittens?"

"I will kill you in your sleep," Blake muttered.

"Man. You guys are no fun today."

"Well, I had fun today," Nora said.

Ren quirked an eyebrow. "Nora, you leapt onto Winter screaming, and I quote, 'Battle Snuggles,' whereupon she immediately beat you to within an inch of your life."

"Yeah. Fun!"

"Can we get a two-for one deal on that shrink thing?" Yang asked. "For a friend."

Pyrrha's hair sparked.

"Hey guys!" Sun Wukong approached their table, a tray of food in hand. "Woah! What happened to all of you?"

All eyes turned to Blake, the pack's designated Sun wrangler. "Uh, there was a...turtle," she said. One would think that a secret operative who spent all her time reading fiction would have been better at coming up with excuses on the fly.

"A turtle?" Sun echoed, confused.

"Yes," continued Blake, slowly. "It was...lubricated. With rabies. We had to stop it from destroying Beacon. You all owe us your lives, so let me steal some of your fries." With that, Blake snagged a few of Sun's fries off of his tray.

Sun looked around at the group, from the bruised and battered Weiss, to burnt Pyrrha with her still-sparking hair. "Uh...huh," he said. "I guess I'll be on the lookout for badass rabid turtles then."

"You do that," Blake said agreeably, stealing more of his fries.

[/]

Jaune found himself sitting on a white stone bench in the rarely-visited Beacon garden. It was a quiet place of isolation, a bit of natural beauty. If he was going to calm down and assert control of his emotions, then he needed somewhere more tranquil than the bustle of the Academy's main thoroughfares.

"Hello again!"

He looked up to see Medusa Nikos, in her white toga, kneeling by some sort of sapling tree. "Good afternoon, ma'am," Jaune said politely.

"So, what brings you to the garden...Jaune, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's correct."

"Well, you look like you have a lot on your mind, Jaune."

He sighed. "I...have you ever been afraid for someone?"

Medusa laughed. "I'm a mother, Jaune, and my daughter is a warrior born. I'm always afraid for her."

"Ah," he bowed his head, abashed. "I should have realized."

The woman walked over to the bench on which he sat, and took a seat next to him. "I'm guessing this is about one of your friends?"

Jaune nodded. "Weiss. She's...she's special to me. I love her, deeply, desperately even. But when I saw her after training today, she was beaten and bruised. I just…"

"Well, why don't you tell me more about Weiss? That's the girl with the white hair, correct? Winter's baby sister?"

"Yes, ma'am. Weiss is…" Jaune's Semblance caused him to begin to glow slightly as he thought about her. "She's gentle and caring, but defiant. Easily the brightest person I know. She's soft kisses stolen in the light of the moon, headstrong lectures with the most adorable pout on her face, regal elegance to match any princess. She shines like a diamond when she walks into a room. Weiss could charm the stars and hypnotize the moon."

Medusa's smile grew as Jaune's glow had grown brighter and brighter the more he thought about his lady love. "And how did you feel when you saw her today?"

Jaune's glow immediately died down. "I felt...afraid. Afraid that she was hurt, and that she would be hurt again in the future. I was angry that someone would dare put their hands on her, and angry that I wasn't there to protect her from it. I wanted to go to the man who did it and make him pay in blood for what he did to her."

"Jaune," Medusa stopped him. "The Jaune that you showed me just now was nothing like the Jaune that literally beamed as he spoke about her. You were angry and afraid, yes, but that turned your thoughts to violence, and she picked up on that. In that moment, you weren't thinking about her, about what she needed. You were focused on your own emotions, and how to satisfy your wants."

He looked to her as if he'd been slapped. Medusa put a hand on his arm. "Listen to me, young man. I know what people say about me. At best, they say that I'm naive and overly-trusting, foolish and vulnerable. At worst, they say that I'm crazy, and best avoided. I'm not stupid, boy, nor am I crazy. I know what people can be like, Jaune. I know. People can hurt you. They can beat you, they can kill you, they can violate you in the most horrific of ways. But no one, no one in this world, can make you into someone that you are not. When I found thieves in my garden, I invited them into my home. When those soldiers came for Penny, calling her property, I chose not to stand for it. I understood that there was the possibility that they could have hurt me, or that the soldiers could have killed me. But I refused to let that possibility keep me from being the sort of person that would offer aid to people in need. That's who I choose to be. At the end of the day, I refuse to let fear compromise who I am. Will you?"

She stood. "There's still the chance to make things right. I have faith that you will make the right choices." Her bright smile spread across her face again. "And if things don't work out, I still need someone to help my Pyrrha give me grandbabies…" she teased in her sing-song tone.

Despite himself, Jaune snorted, amused. "Thank you, Miss Nikos."

"Oh, anytime, dear." With that, Medusa slipped back into the foliage.

Jaune's smile dropped and he let out a deep sigh. He knew he needed to make the first overture, to begin setting things right with Weiss. He took out a Scroll and typed out a message.

Weiss. I'm sorry. I was wrong. Please, let's talk. Love, Jaune.

He hit send, and waited for a response. After a few minutes, his Scroll chimed, indicating that he'd received a message in turn.

Jaune Arc. Report to the Corvid's Claw, fit for mission, in one half-hour. Headmaster Ozpin.

As an aspiring knight, Jaune was not generally given to profanity. However, on that occasion, he couldn't quite help himself.

"Fuck."

[/]

Weiss was in a world-class bad mood, the sort of bad mood where even hardcore cardiovascular exercise couldn't produce enough endorphins to offset it. She'd had a fight, her first real fight, with her boyfriend, and Xiao Long wouldn't stop teasing her for it. Weiss scowled as she finished retrieving her normal clothing from the locker. Yang was just a stupid, jealous bimbo who was upset that even her overgrown mounds of glandular fat weren't enough to offset her objectively awful personality and land her a man of her own. Airheaded cow. Ruby was an idiot child who didn't know anything about anything, and just fuck Blake Belladonna. If that bitch had had the gall to say even a single fucking word, Weiss couldn't be held accountable for whatever hate crime she would have inflicted on her.

Her own sister had turned on her in favor of some booze-soaked ne'er-do-well, and even had the sheer nerve to criticize her affairs with Jaune! Not that she needed to worry about any of that happening in the foreseeable fucking future. He would need to pull some spectacular goddamn acts of contrition before she deigned to show him her favor once more. Treat her like a fucking fainting damsel, would he? She'd train so fucking hard that she'd kick his ass from one side of Remnant to another, and have him kneeling before her to bask in the turbulence of her magnificence. Maybe she'd make him kiss her boots before forgiving him his trespasses.

Shit. Cutting him off meant no sex for her either. Goddamn it.

Stupid Jaune.

As she finished dressing, her Scroll buzzed once again. Weiss ignored it, as she had the others. No doubt, he was already regretting his misdeeds, and grovelling for her forgiveness. Well, he could just wait and squirm until she was good and goddamn ready to speak to him, preferably when she was capable of saying words that weren't some sort of permutation of the phrase "fuck you."

She growled as her Scroll went off again. Couldn't he take the fucking hint?! She wasn't in the mood to talk right now! Weiss kicked the locker, then did it again, and again, denting it under the force of her powerful legs. Then she remembered how enraptured Jaune always was by the curvature of those legs, and that just made her angrier, making her kick the locker even harder.

"Whatever the locker did to offend you, I'm sure it's very sorry," a woman's voice sounded wryly from the doorway.

Weiss snarled. "Why don't you stick it -" as she turned, she saw a very cross-looking Glynda Goodwitch looking at her, and caught herself before the words "up your ass" came out of her mouth. " - on the Schnee family tab, and I will make sure that it is replaced at cost," Weiss finished instead, her tone abruptly much more reasonable.

Glynda rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that various forms of profanity were the furthest thing from your mind, Miss Schnee. Would you care to have a brief chat in my office?"

It wasn't a suggestion.

Weiss trailed along after Miss Goodwitch like a chastened puppy, which wasn't that far off from the truth. Glynda had her sit in a surprisingly comfortable chair opposite of her desk. "Now, are you really that upset about your boyfriend?"

The girl fidgeted. "It's just...I train so hard to become a Huntress, and all he sees is some delicate girl who can't protect herself. It's insulting! It's demeaning! I am a warrior, and I demand respect as such!"

Glynda nodded along. "Well, allow me to clue you in to a particular aspect of men, Miss Schnee: men are prone to getting fool notions in their head and sticking to it, in spite of what rational sense might dictate. Mister Arc knows, intellectually, that your Aura means that the minor injuries you suffered this morning will be gone by tomorrow. That does not mean that he was not distressed by seeing them today. When men see women they love hurt, it sets off certain aspects of their atavistic minds, instinctual notions that tell them that they, themselves, are personally responsible for ensuring that no harm ever comes to you, that you are not to suffer any pain at all. Add to this the fact that Mister Arc's emotions are akin to exposed nerve endings that he has little idea how to control, and it is little wonder that he reacted in primitive ape-man fashion."

Weiss sighed. "I guess I can understand it. A little. But that doesn't make him right."

"No, it doesn't," Miss Goodwitch agreed. "Your nature as a fighter is something that he will have to come to terms with, if your relationship is to have any hope of survival. Still, that is something that the two of you will need to discuss upon his return."

Weiss blinked. "Return?"

"You didn't know? Jaune left on a mission with Qrow."

"What?!"

Weiss tore the Scroll out of her pouch and quickly booted it up, seeing over a dozen missed messages.

Weiss. I'm sorry. I was wrong. Please, let's talk. Love, Jaune.

I've been assigned a mission with Qrow. Please, let's talk before I go. Love, Jaune.

I understand that you're angry. I deserve it. Please, just let me say goodbye. Love, Jaune.

Weiss, where are you? Ruby

Weiss, answer your fucking Scroll! Nora

Weiss, Jaune's leaving. He's going to miss you. Ruby

Sister, you don't need to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you or him, you don't need to hide. Winter

You'd better have a real good excuse for not being here to see him off. Jaune loves you so much. Pyrrha

He deserves better. Ren

Bitch, don't make me find you. Nora

I'm sorry, Weiss. Please believe me when I tell you that I'm so, so sorry. I love you so much, it hurts. Jaune

Look, I don't know what teenage melodramatic bullshit is going on here. Don't much care, either. I'mma make sure your idiot boyfriend stays alive, if only so that me and Winter can murder the shit outta the both of you for putting us through this. Bunch a cryin' fuckin' teenagers on the goddamn launchpad. Look, I'm going to bring him home, no matter what. Partially because he reminds me of a friend of mine, but mostly because Winter said that she will kick my ass if he dies. So train hard, Jailbait. I'll be expecting a better fight from you when we get back. Qrow

They're saying that I need to give Ozpin my Scroll and use a special "emergency burner Scroll" for this mission. We'll talk when I get back. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right, I promise. No matter what happens, never doubt that I love you. You are my world, every bit of it. Jaune

Weiss dropped the Scroll from her trembling hands. She felt cold as if her heart had been dunked in a vat of ice water. Her already fair skin was even paler as the blood drained from her face.

"I know that look," Glynda said. "That's the 'I've made a terrible mistake' look."

"What...what do I do?" Weiss asked the older woman, desperation in her voice.

Glynda sighed. "I loved a man once. Did you know that?" She squinted at Weiss's sudden expression of skepticism. "Shut up, girl, I'm not that old. Anyways, your Jaune reminds me a lot of him. Brave. Bold. A bit dumb, but in an endearing way. I loved him dearly, and he loved me too."

"What...what happened to him?" Weiss asked, her voice small. She knew the answer before Miss Goodwitch even said anything.

"He went off on a mission. We argued before he left. I told him that it was foolish and reckless. He told me...he told me that he was doing it for me. For us. For our future." Glynda swallowed past the thickness in her throat. "He left before we resolved our argument. I was sure that we would patch things up when he came back. We always had before. But...it didn't happen that time. He went to a dark place, and he never left it. He never came back to me."

She turned a solemn gaze on the younger woman, who looked ashen. "Your Jaune reminds me of him. And you...you remind me of myself. Don't make the same mistake I did, Weiss. Your grievance was real, to be sure. But never lose sight of what is truly important in this world. Resolve your argument in whatever way is best to you, when he gets back, and don't let this happen, not ever again." The words if he comes back hung, unsaid, in the air.

Weiss nodded, slowly. "I...thank you, Miss Goodwitch. And...I'm sorry."

"I am too."

When the girl was gone, Glynda stood and retrieved a bottle of wine and a glass. She raised her drink in a melancholy toast to an empty room.

"Oh, James…"

[/]

Winter heard a knock on her door. Opening it, she saw her wayward sister, looking a frightful wreck. Her face still bruised from the morning, tears streamed down her face, causing her makeup to run in long, dark lines. Without preamble, the younger Schnee sister threw herself into Winter's arms. She was babbling, sobbing, something about her Scroll.

All the former soldier could do was gather her sister in her arms as the younger girl cried brokenly against her.

[/]

Aboard the Corvid's Claw, the situation was awkward, to say the least.

"So," Qrow said. "Allow me to see if I have this right. The whole kerfluffle started because you wanted to kick my ass for roughing up your little girlfriend in training."

"That's...that's about the long and short of it, yes," confirmed Jaune.

The older man shook his head. "Alright kid, you listen up, and you listen up good. Your problem is that you were thinkin' with your dick."

Jaune looked over, confused. "Uh…"

"Not like that," Qrow waved. "I mean, you were buffing up. Bein' all fuckin' macho. Ain't gonna do you no good, kid. First of all, when you do that, you aren't doin' what she needs. You're just strokin' your own fuckin' ego. Let's say you went off and punched me right in the fuckin' face. What good would that have done her? No, you want to comfort a Huntress, you tend to her wounds. Pour her a hot bath. Tell her she's pretty and massage her feet. Get her her favorite comfort food, and make her feel special."

Jaune felt like he should be taking notes. "Miss Nikos said something fairly similar," he noted.

"The redhead with the braids? Smart woman, that one. How good do you think she is at pulling a guy out of a depression? I'm asking for a friend." Upon seeing that he was getting nothing but a blank look from his partner for the mission, Qrow waved the question away. "Never mind. Now, the second part of how you fucked up - a compound fuckup, if you will - is that, by tryin' to pull that macho bullshit, what you were really tellin' her is that you don't really respect her."

"What?!" protested Jaune. "That's not what I -"

"Bullshit," Qrow interrupted. "You're tellin' her that she ain't a real fighter, not the way you are. That you don't respect her choices once you start seein' some of the consequences. That you think she can't hack it. That you're just humoring her until the chips are down, at which point you step in, because you know better. That's what really set her off, mark my words. Kid, I mightta called her 'Jailbait,' said her sister had a stanky cooch, and punted her scrawny ass from one side of that field to the other, but I didn't do shit to insult her the way you did."

Silence reigned in the cockpit.

"Fuck."

"Fuck indeed," Qrow gave a sardonic salute.

"How do I fix it?" he asked.

"Assuming that her little no-show at the hangar didn't mean that she was off finding someone better?"

Jaune scowled at him.

"Fine, fine, sheesh. Look, you want to make things work with a Huntress, you gotta fall in love with her fight. I had a pretty low opinion of Jailbait from the word go. Thought I'd kick her around a bit, she'd cry and fuck off, and that would be the end of it. But lo and behold, as I started kickin' her ass, she went and found a warrior spirit that I never wouldda guessed she had just from lookin' at her. That scar on her eye? She got that in a fight, kid. I kept beating her down, and she kept getting back up. Sure, she's scrawny, and her technique sucks shit through a slurpee straw, but that don't mean nothin'. You can compensate for scrawny. You can teach technique. But spirit? You either have it or you don't, and there's no way to make someone have it who doesn't. Love her for that spirit, kid, and she'll love you forever."

The pair fell silent again as they continued on their way to the city of Mistral.

"Enough of that melodramatic teenage bullshit," Qrow announced. "So, kid, you got any hobbies?"

Jaune hesitated. "Well, I compose poetry in my off time," he said.

Qrow just stared at him. "What the...all right, I'mma teach you how to play poker."

"I'm not supposed to gamble," Jaune said. "It's a vice, and I'm supposed to be temperate in my habits."

The older Huntsman just shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Right. So no gambling. You probably don't drink, either."

"I'm allowed to imbibe moderately, but not to any extent. It would also be counterproductive to arrive at the mission inebriated. I recommend you stay sober as well."

Qrow facepalmed. "You are, without a doubt, the most boring goddamn teenager on the face of the planet. Why do I get the feeling that Ozpin is back at Beacon and laughing his ass off at me right now?"

"We could always go over the mission again," Jaune offered.

"You suck," Qrow accused. "You suck, and I need you to know that. Okay, here's the big mission; we go to Mistral. Follow a friend of mine, Huntsman named Shiro, as he takes a job and ventures out for glory and to pay his own goddamn bar tab for once. We keep a discreet distance, wait to see if Ozzy's info was right and someone is bumping off Huntsmen. If not, we go home and congratulate ourselves on a spectacular waste of time. If so, we Dust the motherfucker in cold blood, and problem solved. Any questions?"

"No. It seems fairly straightforward."

"It is straightforward, and that's why Ozpin is making me take your crazy ass."

Jaune refused to rise to the bait.

"No, seriously," lamented Qrow. "Most boring teenager ever."

"My apologies," Jaune said, his tone sarcastic. Then, after a moment, he asked "What does 'Jailbait' mean, anyway?"

"Kid, if you ask me where babies come from, I will throw you out the window."

"Oh, don't worry. Winter already taught me that."

Qrow's chair swiveled sharply as he turned to look at Jaune full-on. "All right, now we're getting somewhere. I could always use more material against the Ice Queen."

"What is your relationship with Miss Winter anyway?"

He shrugged at the younger man. "On the surface, it's a toxic and deeply-unhealthy mutual antagonism rife with verbal and physical abuse from both parties. At the end of the day, I got her back, and she's got mine."

Slowly, a grin spread across Jaune's face. "You want her."

"Kid, I just told you not five minutes ago that I told her kid sister that she has a stank cooch. What about any of that suggests some sorta true love?"

"You also told me that when you love a Huntress, you need to love her for her fight, and Winter can fight."

"Shut up, kid."

"Have you tried composing poetry for her?"

Qrow glared at him. "Kid, I will murder you. Don't think I won't."

"A murder of Qrow?"

"I'm not dignifying that. So help me, if you're involved with my niece as some side chick, you and I really will have a problem. But at any rate, yes, I will kill you. I will kill you to death."

"No you won't. Because you promised the fair Lady Winter that you would see me back safe and unharmed. You saw her in the hangar, beautiful but distraught, and her plight so moved you that you, the valiant Sir Qrow of Branwen, promised your Snow Angel that you would do anything to make her happy once more - "

Qrow threw his flask at him.

"Don't drink and fly, Qrow. Autopilot can only do so much."

"Kid, remember when you were good and boring, and didn't have shit to say? I miss those days."

Jaune, mercifully, fell silent for a moment. Then he piped up again. "So, do you want to talk Weapons?"

"Oh shit, there's two of them now."

[/]

If Weiss was going to become the Huntress that she knew she could be, her own heartbreak and remorse couldn't take precedence over training. So it was that she took her place with the rest of her team in the training field that morning.

"Since we have an odd number today, I'm going to do something a little different," Winter announced. "I will take the remainder of Team RWBY with me to engage in training. Weiss, I would like you to engage in asymmetrical tactical escape training with the remainder of Team JNPR.

Jaune's teammates, still put-out that Weiss had left their friend and teammate high and dry the day before, drew their weapons with no small degree of glee.

"Do try to make a good effort in your escape," Winter said, clapping her sister on the back. "Have fun!"

Weiss's face fell as Nora cracked her knuckles.

"Well. This bodes poorly."

Weiss turned and fled, her friends from Team JNPR in hot pursuit.

[/]

The city of Mistral, built into a high mountain, was different from the other two great cities that Jaune had known. It felt more holistic and alive than sterile, unnatural Atlas, but with more grandeur than the quaint and rustic Vale. It was heavily populated, with dense crowds choking the streets at all hours of day or night, a lively bustle that formed a ubiquitous sort of background noise to the city.

In retrospect, Jaune shouldn't have been surprised that, upon landing, Qrow led him in a beeline for the city's more disreputable districts, the sort of places where the local dining establishments simply boarded up the open holes in the walls where windows once stood, as they would be destroyed too frequently to be worth the bother of reinstalling glass. Sure enough, as they approached a particular bar, labeled the Lucky Lancer, a patron was ejected at high velocity through one of those holes, sending wooden splinters flying through the air as he was defenestrated.

The patron stood on wobbly legs and cautiously approached the door. "I would like to apologize," he slurred.

"For what?" a voice asked.

"For everything."

With that, the obviously drunk man staggered away. Jaune and Qrow watched him go. "That's not our guy," Qrow said. "Look, I get that you're some glistening virgin of purity and light, but these places can be pretty rough. Just follow my lead, and don't say anything."

"As you say," Jaune answered. Qrow led the way into the bar.

Calling the Lucky Lancer a rundown dive would be an insult to rundown dives. Wisps of smoke from every sort of conceivable inhaled substance combined together into a massive, vaguely greasy haze that obscured the room. That was for the best, though. Thick clumps of sawdust congealed pools of vomit and other bodily fluids on the sticky floor. The scum and mold accumulated on the dark walls had reached such ecological complexity that it would probably start its own space program soon. The place looked like the sort of dump where the rats had crabs and faced scorn and derision from other, cleaner rats. A sign proudly proclaimed that Faunus were not welcome in the establishment; Jaune figured that the Faunus would probably be happy to be excluded from this particular toilet masquerading as a cantina.

"Don't ask about bar snacks," Qrow muttered.

"You don't say," came Jaune's wry response.

Jaune kept his place as Qrow's shadow while the older Huntsman sought out their contact, who was swigging rotgut booze straight from the bottle at the stained bar. Shiro Wan cut an even more disreputable figure than Qrow himself. The middle-aged Huntsman had unkempt black hair with a single white lock, and dressed in grey fatigues that were so stained and crusted that they crunched as he turned to greet Qrow. He wore bandoliers of ammunition crossed over his chest and around his waist, and a folded rifle hung over his shoulder.

"Qrow Branwen!" Shiro Wan slurred, drunk, as he staggered up.

"Shiro, you old -" Qrow was cut off as Shiro pulled him into an embrace and kissed him full on the mouth.

"So, he's that kind of contact," Jaune noted wryly.

Qrow pushed Shiro off of him. "Shiro," he said sharply. "Shiro, you're drunk"

"And you're hot," he slurred.

"It must be like looking in a mirror," mused Jaune.

"Shut up," Qrow ordered his young assistant. "And yeah, it kinda is, which is why we," he said, indicating himself and Shiro, "are very much not a thing."

"You're just saying that," protested Shiro. "What, did Taiyang finally give in and say yes?"

Qrow glared at the Mistrali Huntsman. Shiro knew damn well not to push the 'Taiyang is infuriatingly straight' button. "Shiro."

"Yo."

Qrow threw him through the boards that constituted a window.

"Is this part of the professional Huntsman experience?" Jaune asked.

"You'd be surprised," replied Qrow, his tone dry. "C'mon, let's get him sobered up." He paused as he contemplated the words that had just come out of his mouth. "Can't believe I just said that. Fuckin' Shiro."

The pair left the bar and found Shiro Wan, professional Huntsman extraordinaire, laid out in the dirt road in front of the bar. He'd begun to snore as he had succumbed to sleep, though whether or not he had done so before he'd hit the ground or while he was in flight was anyone's guess.

"This is a Huntsman," Jaune deadpanned.

Qrow shrugged. "He doesn't look like much now, but when he's on the job, Shiro's the kinda guy you'd want watching your back."

"I don't think it's your back he's interested in watching."

"Shut up. And, er, no need to mention everything that happened here to Winter, right?"

Jaune shrugged. "I won't bring it up, but if she asks specifically, I'm not supposed to lie."

"What is even your deal anyway? Nevermind," Qrow shook his head. "Here, let's get him up."

Jaune scrunched his nose at the foul odor of stale booze that emanated from the man as he and Qrow hefted him up. "The man reeks like a brewery. It is unbecoming of a Huntsman."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's get out of here. I've got another friend who lives nearby, she can put us up while we get Shiro here clean."

"Is this a friend or another friend?" Jaune asked.

Qrow rolled his eyes. "Shut up, kid."

"That's not an answer."

Before Qrow could retort, a stocky woman bustled out of the Lucky Lancer bar. She was built like a Baragwin Battle Tank, with thick, corded muscles on her arms, and syphilitic rashes marring her cheeks. "Hey!" she shouted at the pair. "That asshole still owes for his drinks!"

"How much?" Qrow asked.

"Forty-two thousand lien!"

Qrow and Jaune shared a startled glance. "Don't worry," Jaune said, leaving Qrow to hold up the unconscious Shiro on his own. "I'll talk us out of this."

"Hold on, hold on," Qrow pulled out his Scroll and hit record. "Okay, go. This is gonna be amazing."

Jaune put on his most charming smile as he approached the woman, his arms spread open. "I'm awfully sorry, madame, but as you can see, our associate here has just hit rock bottom, and is currently in no condition to be paying anyone anything. If anything, he may be suffering from acute alcohol poisoning. Be that as it may, the condition of your...establishment, and the ghastly subpar products offered within, makes such a figure truly doubtful as to a truthful tabulation of his expenses. I don't suppose you have written records that we could consult?"

The woman started muttering.

"I thought it unlikely," Jaune continued. "On a more personal note, when left untreated, syphilis can have truly deleterious effects on one's mind, which would explain how you possibly thought that such an outrageous figure could pass muster. When our associate here finishes his job, we'll ensure that you're compensated fairly, but in the meantime, madame, please, seek treatment for the no-doubt multitudinous venereal diseases that are, even as we speak, no doubt ravaging both your mind and body."

She blinked. "What."

"He's sayin' yer gash is so rancid, it'll kill us all!" A patron hooted from inside the bar.

The woman pulled a knife.

"Woah!" Jaune dodged out of the way as she stabbed at him. "Madame, wait, it's not so bad! It can be treated, possibly even cured outright! You don't need to let social diseases lead you to madness!"

Qrow guffawed as he watched Arc try to talk down the large, angry, syphilitic woman. It was the little moments that made the job bearable.

After the bar owner grew exhausted from trying to stab Jaune, the aspiring knight carefully led her back into her establishment, keeping a distance, both due to her knife and due to the possibility of her being a carrier for other contagious diseases. "I don't understand why that didn't work," he pondered as he returned to Qrow.

"Kid, that was the worst attempt at sweet talkin' I have ever seen," Qrow began dragging Shiro down the road. "You don't just walk up to someone and tell 'em 'by the way, madame, you're clearly out of your fucking mind because of the clap!'"

Jaune frowned. "That's not what I said."

"Look kid, either learn to lie, or keep your trap shut. Got it?"

"All right."

Fortunately, it wasn't all that far a distance that they had to drag Shiro, as Qrow led them to a house just off the undercity market square. Leaving Jaune to hold up the unconscious Huntsman, Qrow knocked politely at the door.

A handsome older woman with striking lavender hair answered the door. "Qrow! It's been too long, how are you?"

"Hey, Heather. I'm in town for a job, found Shiro completely plastered at this dump around the corner. Mind if we do the old wakeup routine?"

Heather's smile faded as she took in the sorry sight of Shiro Wan. "Ah, Shiro...I'm afraid you'll have to take him out back, spray him down with a hose."

"Out back?" Qrow asked, puzzled. "Why?"

"Mommy!"

A small child, a girl with pitch-black hair pulled into tails, ran up to Heather, who, impossibly, had somehow become a mother in the time since Qrow had seen her last. His jaw dropped as the woman, that he'd always known as a Huntress who fought hard and partied harder, picked up the little girl with a tenderness that he never would have suspected her of being capable of summoning.

"I'd rather not have my little girl see such things, not for a long time yet."

The girl wrenched her lips into a snarl as she fought to keep from sneezing, a battle that she lost as she just barely managed to get her fist up to her mouth in time to keep from blasting mucus all over her mother. "Who is this?"

"This is one of mommy's old friends from work," explained Heather. "He's just going to be in the backyard for a bit, as another one of mommy's friends fell down and got all dirty."

The little girl laughed. "He's silly, mommy."

"Yes, yes he is." Heather beamed at Qrow, and then noticed Jaune holding up Shiro. "Oh, and you must be Tai's little girl!"

Jaune startled. "I -"

"Yep, that's Yang all right," Qrow interrupted, a tremendous grin of absolute mischief plastered across his face. "Bit of a beanpole, but keeps me from having to fend off boys with a stick."

"I'm not a -"

"Well, I'm very glad to meet you at last, Yang," Heather said politely. "Be sure to keep an eye on your Uncle Qrow for me, will you? Silly old bird is always getting into trouble."

Jaune seethed, but tried not to show it to the poor lady. "...Of course. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find somewhere in the backyard to deposit Mister Wan here."

"Oh, sure. And say hello to your father for me the next time you see him!" She smiled again at Qrow as the young blonde dragged Shiro around to the back of the house. "Nice girl. Looks just like her father. Better that she doesn't take after her good-for-nothing mother."

"Yeah, Yang's all right," Qrow said. "So, I'mma go take care of Shiro now."

"Okay. Do let me know when you're ready to leave, will you?"

"Sure thing."

Qrow was whistling happily to himself as he strode into Heather Shields' backyard, casually pulling a garden hose behind him.

"Was that really necessary?" Jaune asked him.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because I, for one, found it funny as hell."

Jaune glared at him. "You're a bad person, and should feel bad."

"Probably, but I don't." Qrow aimed the hose at Shiro while Jaune manned the spigot. "All right, let 'er rip."

Working together, the pair doused the drunken Huntsman with cold water, eventually bringing him around. Shiro sputtered and spat as he sat up, trying to splash the water out of his face with his hands.

"I'm up, I'm fuckin' up already!"

"Hey!" Qrow snapped, spraying Shiro directly in the face with the hose. "There's kids around. Watch your mouth."

After a cathartic game of "drown Shiro," Qrow eventually relented and signaled Jaune to turn off the hose. Shiro stood miserably in the grass, looking like nothing so much as a drowned rat.

"Was that really necessary?" He asked.

"Yep."

"How bad was it?"

"You pushed the Tai button."

"Ooh." Shiro winced. "Sorry about that. Hey, why are we outside?"

"Heather didn't want your rancid self in her living room. Can't really blame her."

Shiro did a double-take. "Wait, Heather Shields? Hardcore Heather thought that I was too far gone for her house? What gives?"

"She grew up, Shiro. It happens. Well, for most of us, at least. She's got a little kid of her own now, didn't want her seein' you like...well, like you."

That seemed to sober up the drunken Huntsman more than the water had.

"Anyways, we're still on for that mission tomorrow night," Qrow said. "You're gonna head out for the job, and me and the kid are gonna follow you. Maybe nothin' happens, and this was all just a little get-together. But if something does go down, you'll be glad for the backup."

Shiro shuffled uncomfortably, his wet socks squelching in his boots. "I guess you're right. Who's the kid?"

"Oh, him?" Qrow got his mischievous grin once more. "He's actually my brave and loyal squire. You didn't hear? Was hangin' out in Vale so long, went and got myself knighted."

"Bullshit."

Qrow nodded to Jaune again, and Shiro got another douse of water.

"Really?" Shiro deadpanned.

"Yep," Qrow said happily, deliberately misinterpreting the intent behind Shiro's question. "Turns out things like that happen when you take up with the Queen of Atlas."

"Last I heard, the only queen in Atlas was you."

Shiro got another helpful serving of water to the face.

"You done being a smart...alec," Qrow caught himself from swearing.

Shiro sighed. "I can only promise to try."

"Good enough. Now, let's get you to your place, so we can plan details. And you can get an actual shower."

As Jaune gathered up the shivering wet Huntsman, Qrow went to Heather's front door, knocking on it again. "Hey," he greeted as she opened it back up. "He's sobered up. Ish. For now. Took a bit of doing, so, you know, sorry about the water bill."

Heather sighed. "Take care of the idiot, will you?"

"Always do."

"And take care of yourself." Heather looked around, left to right, then reached up and pulled Qrow into a tender kiss. "One last round for the road, cowboy."

"Yeah. See you around, Heather."

Jaune stared at him as he returned to them. "Am I going to be required to kiss all the Huntsmen and Huntresses that I meet, or is that just how you operate?"

"Shut up, kid."

"He's been around the block so many times that he's worn a ring around it."

"Shut up, Shiro."

[/]

The following night, they trailed the now-sober and clean Shiro Wan as he stalked through the high forests outside of Mistral. The job was to hunt down a rare and powerful Grimm - a Nuckelevee that had been spotted in the ruins of a village in the Mistral hinterlands - and Shiro made swift progress towards the village.

So far, so quiet.

Jaune was tense as he watched Shiro's progress from a ridge overlooking the trail. Qrow had gone off somewhere, citing some super-secret scouting technique. Shiro looked casually wary, as any experienced Huntsman would be when traversing the wilderness, being ready to fight without being pulled overly taut with stress.

A brief whirring sound was the only warning that Jaune had. He wrenched his gaze away from Shiro as a flash-bang went off directly in front the Mistrali Huntsman. To his credit, Shiro had his rifle drawn immediately, and bit down his instinctual cry in order to try and suss out his attacker through his sense of hearing.

Jaune leapt into action.

Shiro's attacker was a male humanoid. His height was difficult to discern, as he ran and stood in a heavily-crouched stance. The man wore white pants, an open white vest, and black knee-high boots. He stabbed towards Shiro with double wrist-mounted crescent blades, evocative of the pincers of a scorpion.

They bounced off of the white steel of Jaune's shield.

The stranger's sickly yellow eyes widened in gleeful surprise, and, strangely enough, his long braided hair rose up behind him, forming a tail, complete with stinger. A Faunus, then, and likely a scorpion one at that, given the motif of his weapons. Jaune glared.

"Leave now, or else."

The man laughed, with a strained, slightly manic tone to it. "Why, I'm afraid that I cannot do that, young man. I have been given a task, you see, and one does not leave a task from the queen unfinished."

"This time you will. I need to know everything about this queen of yours." Jaune brandished Crocea Mors, the ancient blade singing as he brought it to guard. "Dead or alive, you're coming with me."

"Oh, that's -"

The Faunus was cut off as he had to bring one of his crescent blades across his face in a parry. Shiro, having recovered from the flash bang, had dropped to one knee behind Jaune and opened fire on the unknown assailant. Whatever caliber that rifle was chambered to fire, it was powerful, the blocked shots sending the Faunus's foot digging into the dirt of the trail. Jaune positioned himself to Shiro's right, ready to use the shield on his left arm to cover for Shiro if necessary.

They never saw the second attacker until it was too late. From behind the trees, a positively enormous man, powerfully-built with arms like tree trunks, erupted onto the trail like an unstoppable freight train. He smashed into Shiro, bearing him to the ground.

Jaune had just enough time to take that in, when the instincts forged over long hours of desperate combat took over and he returned to guard. It was just in time for his shield to protect him from the stinger tail of the Faunus. Jaune used his sword to scrape the tail off of his shield, stepping forward to throw a cut towards the Faunus's head. The scorpion man used his pincer blades to entrap Jaune's sword and throw the attack off line, before the strange man leapt onto Jaune's shield itself. He cackled madly, leering his face towards Jaune in an attempt to intimidate the aspiring knight.

Jaune headbutted him in the face.

Ignoring the muffled swear from the scorpion Faunus, Jaune pushed back and leapt, as hard as he could, for where he had seen the second attacker, the huge man, bear Shiro to the ground.

[/]

Shiro Wan was, to put it frankly, a fuckup. He always had been. Oh, he meant well. He'd always meant well. But, well, if the Mistral gang had been a family, Shiro was the idiot younger brother who everyone liked, but no one ever expected anything from. That may or may not have been absolutely entirely his own fault. When they were young, late nights partying, drinking too much and hooking up with hot guys was exciting, and even normal. In their mid-twenties, their responsibilities started making such gatherings more infrequent. By the time they hit thirty, his friends had begun looking in askance at how little had changed in his habits, and when he was staring down the barrel of the big four-oh, it was just getting sad.

The friends started drifting apart. There were weddings, children, new and exciting careers, responsibilities, and then there was Shiro Wan, still living job-to-job and screwing around. Even Qrow started teaching, and raising kids with Taiyang, something that Shiro had never been jealous of that blonde asshole for, not once, thank you very much. But Shiro? Shiro was the same at thirty-eight that he'd been at seventeen.

Truthfully, he had always been kind of a shit Huntsman. His Aura was mediocre, and his Semblance took so much time to charge up for use that it was practically unusable when he was running solo. They practically had to set up a stage with written invitation for it to go off as intended. His friends had all moved on, and there was Shiro Wan, with only his rifle and the bottle for company.

He didn't know why, exactly, some random Faunus and an enormous human would just randomly decide to say "You know what? Fuck Shiro Wan in particular," and go to kill him, but they were doing a pretty good job of it. Especially the human man, who was currently beating him to a pulp with fists that were bigger than his head. Even repeated point-blank gut shots from his rifle were accomplishing all of approximately jack-point-dick against the man, so Shiro figured that it was just about curtains for him, especially when his Aura finally gave out under the onslaught.

Then the kid came outta fuckin' nowhere, swinging his sword at the man.

Apparently, preventing himself from being decapitated rated higher on the huge man's list of priorities than squashing Shiro's head like an overripe melon. The big son of a bitch just bare-armed it, his Aura not even flickering as it absorbed a slice that should have taken the limb off through the forearm. Apparently, the kid wasn't expecting that either, and the big bastard took the opportunity to hurl the kid into the rock wall that formed the ridge on the side of the trail.

The kid himself was no slouch either, as he came rocketing back from that impact, hitting the ground in a damn baseball slide that carried him under the clumsy grasp of the man and allowing him to strike at the hamstrings. The kid leapt into the air to strike at the head again, forcing the man to protect himself. He was carefully darting in and out like a snake, striking at the giant man, trying to whittle away the Aura.

Shiro Wan had always been a fuckup. But the kid that Qrow brought, he was gonna be someone someday. So when he saw the stinger tail coming in hot at the kid's back, Shiro figured that he could at least do one thing right, here at the end. With everything he had left, he forced himself to his feet and staggered into the kid, pushing him aside.

The stinger made a loud squelching sound as it impaled him in the chest.

Huh. He thought it would hurt more. But the poison burn wasn't that bad. Hell, the whiskey he'd been drinking the other day was worse.

Yep. Curtains for ol' Shiro. But at least he saved the kid. As he fell to the ground, only distantly feeling the impact, he comforted himself with that.

Shiro Wan had always been a fuckup. But at least he went out doin' something right.

[/]

In his bird form, Qrow swore to himself. They had led him off the trail with false markers, and poor Shiro just paid the price. This wasn't a fight that the two of them could win, not with his busted bad-luck Semblance. They would need the extra firepower of the Corvid's Claw, or failing that, a quick escape.

Don't die, kid. Please don't die.

[/]

Jaune watched as Shiro hit the ground and lay still, the growing pool of blood underneath him turning a sickly purple hue from the venom. The three remaining combatants stood stock still for a moment.

"Sorry, boy," the huge man rumbled as he cracked his knuckles. "No witnesses."

The aspiring knight took a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn't allow himself to lose focus due to grief at the loss of Shiro, or his remorse that the man died because he'd got sloppy. Like Goodwitch said, he needed to control his emotions, not allow them to control him.

With his left hand, he drew Ascalon, extending it to the size of a short sword. He folded his shield into a sheath, preparing for when he would need to deploy it again. Jaune stood loose but ready, accepting that more people were going to die here today.

Everyone moved at once.

The Faunus attacked with his tail, seeking a quick kill. Jaune used Crocea Mors to wrap the tail and send it slinging at the human, who had broken into another lumbering charge. The human had to swerve to avoid the tail, and Jaune extended Ascalon into a spear, biting at the man. He retracted the spear and turned a half-circle, deploying his shield to block a hail of automatic gunfire coming from the Faunus's arm blades. The aspiring knight rolled into a series of somersaults, aiming to put the big man between himself and the gunfire. The Faunus saw what he was trying to do, and checked his fire.

Jaune sent out lightning-quick stabs at the human with Ascalon, quietly growing concerned at the lack of any visible indication of Aura depletion in his foe. He pushed off into a leap, closing the distance with the Faunus, and began cracking the scorpion about the face with the crossguard and pommel of Crocea Mors. The Faunus leapt into the air. Jaune made to follow, only for his liftoff to be checked by an iron grip that held his legs, both in one meaty hand.

The human slammed Jaune into the ground, hard, before throwing through the air. His momentum was checked when the Faunus clotheslined him with a stiffarm strike. The breath was knocked out of his lungs, but Jaune's long honed instinct to keep moving during a fight saved him from the Faunus's followup strike with the tail stinger. Jaune wrapped his arm around the tail and yanked, sending the Faunus to the ground with him. Then he had to dodge and move his head as the human attempted to stomp on it. He rolled on top of the Faunus and pulled him over himself as a human - or Faunus, as it were - shield, succeeding in getting a friendly fire hit when the human wasn't able to check his momentum in time. Jaune planted his feet in the Faunus's gut and pushed, sending him sprawling away.

Jaune rolled backwards to resume his guard stance, only for the human to bowl him over in a charge. He smashed Jaune into the ground, then whipped him through the air. Jaune felt himself crash through a tree before he was able to plant his feet beneath himself, landing against the broad trunk of another tree. Before he could regain his bearings, the Faunus attacked with a flying knee, smashing into Jaune and blasting him to the ground. He landed in a roll, straining to get to his feet once more, and having just enough time to witness the human inject violet crystals of Gravity Dust directly into his body, spreading his arms open and roaring into the night.

"This bodes poorly."

The human slammed his fists into the ground, causing a shockwave that made the very stone ripple under its force. Jaune leapt into the air to avoid being rendered vulnerable to losing his footing, only for the Faunus to intercept him. The pair exchanged knee and elbow strikes as they plummeted down to the forest floor. Jaune managed to land on top, and began savagely smashing the Faunus's head against a stone, trying to kill the man before the human reached him.

He felt himself be lifted into the air by the human, who used the mass altering properties of the simply squeeze. The ancient cuirass of the Arc prince began to crush in on itself, unable to withstand the unnatural pressures that it was attempting to mitigate. Jaune screamed as his ribcage began to collapse.

Jaune was going to die.

That was not an outcome Jaune was prepared to accept.

His Semblance burst forth, engulfing him in white-gold luminescence. His ribs began to heal instantly, and as he strained, Jaune managed to free his arms from his sides, where they had been trapped by the crushing grip.

The stinger rushed towards him.

Jaune flipped Ascalon over in his hand, pointed backwards, and as he extended the spear, the leaf-bladed head - now glowing white-gold in sympathetic resonance with Jaune's Semblance - severed the tail a few inches past the stinger.

The Faunus screamed, and the human slammed Jaune into the ground once more, causing the light to fade out. Jaune wrapped his legs around the arm pinning him to the ground, hoping to leverage against the man's elbow joint, but it was to no avail. He deployed his shield, the spring mechanism prying open some space for Jaune to free himself from the grip of his assailant.

The human wrapped his hand around Jaune's throat.

Jaune's hand found the hilt of Crocea Mors, and he planted its tip against the hollow of the human's throat.

They strained against one another, the unknown human powered by Dust running directly in his veins, and Jaune calling upon the innate power of his soul, frantically amplifying it as much as he possibly could to try and kill the man who was trying to kill him. This time, he was able to see the white-gold glow of his family's ancestral weapon, and he hoped that that meant that he wasn't about to die that night.

The roar of an autocannon broke the stalemate.

Bullets pelted against the human's broad back, massive shells that even his monstrous Aura couldn't ignore, not with a blade directly at his throat. Reluctantly, the human released Jaune, who slumped to the ground, though still pointing his blade at the human. The large man gathered up the wounded Faunus and fled the field, great lumbering steps into the thicker growth of the forest, where the Corvid's Claw couldn't follow.

After an agonizing few long moments, the airship set down, and Qrow rushed down the gangplank.

"Shit! Kid! Kid!"

Qrow slumped in relief when he saw that the kid was still alive. His armor was an absolute wreck, and he was beat to shit, but he was still alive. "Hang on, kid, I got you." The elder Huntsman was surprisingly gentle as he picked up Jaune and carried him into the airship. He put Jaune down on a gurney, which was Jaune's cue to finally drop his Semblance and succumb to unconsciousness.

The elder Huntsman felt a yawning pit in his stomach as he recovered the body and weapon of Shiro Wan. He couldn't believe it. Shiro had been a part of his life ever since he had left the Branwen tribe, infiltrating Beacon with his sister and going on missions around the world. Shiro was many things, but at the end of the day, Qrow could always trust him to have his back. And now he was dead, dead because he'd been duped by the Queen's pawns.

"I'm sorry, pal." He gently closed Shiro's eyes, and gave him a kiss on his lips. "One last one for the road, cowboy" Qrow sighed. "Goodbye, Shiro. I'll miss you."

Qrow made sure that Jaune was strapped in before taking off again. He slumped in the pilot's chair. He had a lot of calls to make. Obviously, Ozpin. But before that…

He dialed up an old number. Heather Shields' face appeared on the screen. "Hello, Qrow? What is it?"

"Listen, Heather...someone out there is attacking Huntsmen. It's bad. Real bad. Heather...Shiro's dead."

"What?!"

"I know. Assassins, highly-trained, extremely dangerous. They killed Shiro and did a real number on the kid. Look, don't take any Huntress jobs for a while, okay? Just...lay low. Shit, take your little girl and your husband and bail on Mistral if you have to, but don't...these people aren't playing around, Heather."

She looked stricken. "Gods, I...I'm so sorry, Qrow. About Shiro."

"Yeah. Me too. Keep safe, Heather."

"You too, Qrow. Thank you for warning me."

When the Corvid's Claw hit cruising altitude, Qrow engaged the auto-pilot, and took a long, deep breath. He had to hold it together, get the kid back safe. Just had to hold it together for that long.

[/]

It had been a rough week, but Weiss was genuinely proud of the progress they had all made. They were all just a little bit tougher, quicker, and more cunning than they had been the week before. By the time the next semester started, they should be on-pace to match some of the senior upperclassmen, at least in a straight arena fight. But, as Winter had pounded into their heads, anything went in war, and any advantage that they could seize and exploit was one that would bring them victory, irrespective of their "on the books" strength.

She was tidying up Team RWBY's dorm room when her Scroll chimed. Instantly, she pulled it out. Weiss would never deliberately ignore her Scroll messages again.

Weiss Schnee. Qrow Branwen and Jaune Arc will return to the Corvid Claw's designated hangar in one half-hour's time.

Her heart leapt in her chest. At long last, Jaune was coming back! There was so much she wanted to say to him, to apologize, to tell him all about their training - she couldn't quite summon the whole Arma Gigas just yet, but she'd managed an arm! - and to tell him just how much she loved him, idiot-ness and all.

She showered and took particular care with her makeup. The bruisings and abrasions had become less frequent and less severe as her prowess improved, and now, she looked just fine. That was good. She didn't want to set off what Miss Goodwitch had called his "primitive man-brain" again, at least not until they had worked out their difficulties.

Weiss was all smiles as she waited at the hangar, the rest of their friends in tow. Even Blake, surly cat that she was, was quietly happy that he'd be there again. They let up a cheer as the Corvid's Claw heaved into view, the airship settling down in its designated hangar space.

That cheering died down when a somber Qrow Branwen emerged from the gangplank, pushing a gurney. A white sheet covered what was obviously a cadaver.

Weiss's legs gave out from under her, and she found herself kneeling on the hangar deck.

She'd killed him. She'd given in to her spite and venom, neglected to send him off properly, and he'd gone and died. Weiss felt like someone had torn out her heart. She couldn't breathe.

Then Qrow pushed the gurney to the side...and there he was.

Weiss was on her feet again in a heartbeat, practically flying across the hangar to get to him.

He looked like hell. His armor was crushed in, to the extent that it was obvious that he would need to be cut out of it to free himself from the ruined cuirass. His face was festooned with bruises, and he had ugly, yellowing bruises all around his neck.

Weiss didn't care.

He gathered her into his arms, and she pulled him into a kiss, a desperate kiss that was equal parts apology for the past, assurance for the present, and promise for the future.

Whatever happened out there clearly had distressing implications for their mission. But for just a moment, for just those two, everything was as it should be.

[/]

Chapter Endnotes: Training, for me, has always come down to two types. There's "dojo training," which is where one learns and practices the technical skills of fighting, and then there's "fight training," which is where one learns to hone the mentality and reflexes that will actually keep you alive in a fight. For me, "fight training" consisted of "this man will rape and/or kill you if you don't keep moving and defend yourself, so learn to fight through the pain." My nose was broken by repeated beatings until I was able to successfully protect myself. So I figured that, for actual fighting people, their fight training would consist of their trainers beating on them so savagely that it only just stops short of killing or crippling the trainees.

A lot of Qrow's attitudes towards his trainees takes inspiration from Jiu-Jutsu Dude's excellent "Fighting Smart" story.

"I refuse to let fear compromise who I am." That line, one that could be spoken by a Paragon Commander Shepard at the end of Mass Effect 2, is the line that most inspired me to write this story from the beginning. It is an absolute refutation of the notion that one simply must engage in evil acts by necessity. In this story, Salem wrecked Ironwood's shit. She killed everyone else but him. She ruined his body and rendered him sterile. But she didn't make him abandon Glynda. Salem didn't make him murder Saphron, or abuse Jaune, or instill a dictatorial reign of terror across Atlas. James chose to do those things. No one else. He may try to garb himself in the aura of tragic grandeur, but at the end of the day, he succumbed to fear and allowed it to make him a man who does terrible things.

Weiss can be venomous when she's truly angry. A big criticism of "Falling Snow" is that their relationship there is too perfect. So in this story, I try to illustrate the conflicts that could very well come about due to their profession. Bear in mind that I'm an amateur author, working out the kinks of writing fiction here. Weiss had the right to feel affronted by Jaune's disrespect, but they are also in a vocation where you'd best resolve your arguments quickly. This is why the Ren and Nora tension in Volume 7 felt...off to me. The writers there are asking us to believe that those two, who had been as close as two people could be for years and years, never once had a serious disagreement, or established ways to resolve their differences? It feels artificial to me, like the writers remembered that they were there and decided to have them fight for the sake of doing something with them.

Jaune didn't use his Semblance to heal Weiss's face because he doesn't know that he can do that yet. Looking at the wiki, Jaune's Semblance in canon is awesome.

"Dead or alive, you're coming with me," is a reference to Robocop, of course. I love referencing awesome pop culture stuff.

Alas for poor Shiro. At least in this AU, Qrow's earlier involvement gives Heather a head's-up.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

Love,

Mahina