The First Snowfall
"And in an amazing upset, Team Rua manages to carry on! What a way to start off the Vytal Tournament!"
The arena was in shambles: what wasn't ripped free from the ground to show the metal beneath was pockmarked with craters. Entire platforms from the gravity arena were sunken into the floor, some still lit aflame. Even on the side of the arena they were meant to hover over, they were cracked and sparking, purple lights flickering on and off. In the man-made sea, only scraps of metal and ruined furniture were left floating where the ship once was.
And in the middle of the carnage, the three victorious girls danced to the victorious music pumping through countless speakers, the lone man smiling yet staying outside the miniature party. Blake didn't need to know Adam to know that he was just as excited to win as they were, despite how he tried to hide it. Which was exactly why she rolled her eyes when their gaze met. He was always competitive.
Emerald let out a great sigh from beside her and slumped back in her seat.
Blake raised an eyebrow, but couldn't wipe the smile off of her face. "I don't think I've seen you that focused since we met."
"Must've had a bet," Mercury chipped in, dusting his hands off from his popcorn.
"Emerald as the betting type?" Blake looked over at Mercury. "I don't think so."
Emerald snorted. "Finally, a teammate who I can stand!"
"Hey, don't listen to her, Blake. All those trinkets and lien she keeps coming back with? It's a hu~uge gambling problem." Mercury sighed and shook his head. "Kinda sad, really."
Blake ducked underneath a handful of popcorn that found itself in Mercury's hair. Her partner took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"Oh, now you've done it." Mercury snatched his mostly-empty pail and got up from his seat.
Emerald stood up, smirking. "Oooh, what are you gonna do, shake salt on me?"
"Now, now, children, no need to fight." Cinder reminded the two that she was still there, and Blake couldn't have been more thankful. Smiling like the cat that caught the canary, she smoothly stood up. "There is nothing wrong with a little gambling. Of course, I prefer to only do so when I know I'll win."
"And that's exactly what I do, Mercury. Don't get mad at me because you couldn't finesse your way out of a paper bag." Emerald checked her nails.
"Actually, what you do is cheat," Mercury pointed out.
Emerald clenched her hand into a fist, and Blake looked over to Cinder for help yet again. This time, their leader only shook her head with a smile and nodded for them to start walking. As Blake slipped out from between the ensuing argument, she couldn't help but notice from the pleased glint in her eye and even the bounce in her step that if anyone looked like they had won a bet, it was Cinder. Then again, when didn't she look confident?
Trying her hardest to let the pop music and sounds of the crowd drown out the argument of the two following behind, Blake followed behind Cinder until her eye caught onto something glinting up in the sky. She slowed as she tried to focus on it. She stopped when she recognized it.
"What'cha starin' at?" Mercury asked with his head right beside hers.
Blake jumped in place and turned, scowling at him. She really wished he'd learn what personal space was.
"Looks Atlesian," Emerald commented from beside Blake, returning her focus to what was important.
"Looks kinda prissy," Mercury added and crossed his arms under his chest.
A lone airship crossed just out of sight behind the stands, Atlesian in nature yet with curved wings and a smoothness unlike the usual bulky, angular vessels of the Atlesian fleet, even for one small enough to only hold two or three. It was clearly for someone important, and the sky-blue ribbons fluttering behind it made it even more obvious. Blake had seen it before. Only once, from a distance. An Atlesian Specialist's transport.
"It's... just a strange design choice for a jet, that's all," Blake mumbled. She looked to the arena, but the teams were already gone. There was only a lone teacher levitating pieces back into place in preparation for the next match.
Her ears wilted within the bow that trapped them.
"I-I'm going to go congratulate Team RWAY: I'll meet up with you later!" Blake rushed off ahead through the crowd.
Mercury and Emerald looked between each other and shrugged. Emerald turned to Cinder, who was still staring off at where the transport once was.
"Do you know who that is?" she asked.
Cinder sighed and, frowning, shook her head. "Not at all." Her frown deepened. "Mercury, keep an eye on your 'partner'. Emerald, watch our little friends. We may be able to continue without them, but if something from their past is going to interfere, be ready to remove any obstacles." Vague enough for any passer-by to pay it no mind, but to Emerald and Mercury, her orders were crystal clear. As if their argument never happened, the two disappeared into the crowd.
It was only then that Cinder let a mere frown turn into a deep scowl as she twisted on her heel and stormed off. She was too close to her goal to keep losing control like this!
The cold, autumn wind whipped past Blake as she ran through the open-air plazas of Amity Coliseum. She was lucky: she made it out before the crowds began to exit in full. Thank the Brothers for replays and fight breakdowns. Blake didn't care about those right now. Her focus was entirely on what that aircraft could be doing here. The general bringing his drones was strange, half of Atlas' fleet was conspiratorial, but privately shepherding in his Specialists? What use did Ironwood have for them? What kind of protection did his Huntresses or Huntsmen have that would be more than a drop in the bucket compared to Vale's own?
More importantly, who was it?
Blake twisted and slipped out of the way of the sparse few making their way out of the central arena. She gave muttered apologies to those who tripped. The biggest problem was the simplest: they'd dealt with Specialists before. She had only fought against one a single, unfortunate time, but Adam had dealt with three. Technically. In reality, he and his entire camp forced one to retreat, blinded. Another he, Ilia and Sienna herself fought to a standstill to buy time. And the third was someone who would become a Specialist.
Unfortunately, there were only a little over thirty active Specialists at all. A ten percent chance of one of them being instantly discovered wasn't one she liked. But the one she feared, Blake thought as she raced past shining, luxurious airships near the competitors' entrance, was the third. Even a one percent chance of Specialist Schnee being the one in Beacon would've been too much.
The crowds were growing thick now. She squeezed past chattering couples and excited groups. Just a few more yards and she could at least be waiting at the entrance to tell Adam first thing. No point even risking a missed call.
What was once a crowd very abruptly became a wall of murmuring people around the entrance to the locker rooms, and Blake really hoped it wasn't that very Specialist on the other side. The good news was, as she broke through with a last half-hearted apology and finally laid eyes on Team RWAY, there wasn't a Specialist there at all.
The bad news was that she wished there was.
As far as Blake was concerned, by being between her and RWAY—no, her and Adam—Jacques Schnee was standing in the way of his only way out safely.
And all Blake could do was watch.
Twenty-one years of life. Eleven years the child of all but slaves. Ten years with his father murdered. Eight years learning to kill. Six years fighting for the faunus. Two leading his own branch. This was what it had all led up to. Standing two yards away from Jacques Schnee. Symbol of everything he'd ever hated, everything he'd ever fought against. No different than in any of the other photos stabbed through with knives and darts in his camps: slicked back, Schnee-white hair, the immaculate white suit, even that stupid, outdated mustache.
Adam had thought himself a better man. A revolutionary? Yes. But not a murderer. Not anymore. But Adam couldn't deny that fire being stoked deep in his soul—the very same he'd held when he first laid eyes upon Weiss. Not as strong, but ever-present, like a dull aching he couldn't ignore.
The devil was speaking, wearing a practiced smile, but Adam heard not a word. Barely a week ago, he'd been spending another anniversary of his father's demise in silence, and now he stood two yards away from his killer. Six feet. He could make it there and back faster than someone could blink. All it would take is a single push of his foot. A single twitch of his wrist. Would scum like that have aura? No, it was likely. Inevitable.
It'd be worth it. From an objective point of view. What were lost friends and gained enemies to revenge for his entire race? His father? Then again, his guards likely thought that too. Sharp, white, familiar suits. The Schnee crest emblazoned on their chest. They lingered closer to the faunus in the crowd, their intent clear. Was he among them, Adam wondered? The gun Jacques used to murder his father: the man planted in the mines to detonate the bomb early. He couldn't tell. The guards wore visored helmets now, sleek and smooth unlike the Atlesian soldiers.
Burning the image of their faces into his mind didn't have much use now.
He'd brought ten guards. It wouldn't be enough. It was only when he caught Blake out of the corner of his eye that he realized how calm his thoughts were. No heart, no mind. No angel or devil on his shoulder. No conscience. No Blake. No Ruby. Only himself. Only himself and that dull ache. One that grew stronger with every word Jacques said in front of him. Every second he existed in front of him, like that never happened. Like he wasn't drenched in blood.
Like he couldn't have his life extinguished and have the world cheer. Like he couldn't just draw his blade and slit—
"T-this is my current team!" Weiss announced, and Adam snapped back to reality. His face had remained impassive. Eyes boring through Jacques. He hadn't drawn attention.
"They have proven themselves quite proficient and supportive since I have met them." The stilted, almost robotic language was familiar to him. "Please, friends, introduce yourselves!"
The two sisters glanced between each other other and Jacques, each wordlessly trying to shove the other into the firing line first. It was only now that Adam felt the awkward tension in the air: Weiss fidgeting in place and constantly looking between them and Jacques, Ruby trying to stand prim and proper yet failing, Yang's eyes crossing over the crowd around them.
And, he only noticed now, the lanky boy standing beside Jacques. If the sharp, business-casual vest and slacks that looked as though someone drained all the joy out of the color blue didn't give who he was away, the white hair would've made it obvious. Another spawn of Jacques, which meant that one was Whitley Schnee. He carried some of that arrogance in his stance with arms folded behind his back, yet so much more in the impassive, unimpressed gaze he looked down on everyone with.
Well. Looked down on Weiss with. The boy was still short.
The silence ticked from noticeable to awkward. Jacques narrowed his eyes, and in even the sliver of ice aimed at them, Adam saw exactly where Weiss got it from. He hated that connection.
Unfortunately, that sliver was enough to leave Weiss shrinking in on herself. Ruby, noticing this, jumped forward to introduce herself, but stammered and tripped over her words. That drew the boy's attention. As if recognizing that they even existed for the first time, his eyes widened. After staring for a moment, Whitley put on a smile and stepped forward.
"And who, pray tell, might you be?"
In a rush of sunny yellow, Yang was in between them with her hand outstretched and her grin a touch too wide. "Why, that's Ruby Rose. I'm Yang Xiao-Long, her big sister. Nice to meet ya!"
Whitley looked between the outstretched hand and Yang's intense gaze, perturbed. Slowly, he reached out his own, smile fading only the slightest yet becoming so much more false.
"... Charmed." His smile grew more strained when Yang squeezed his hand tight in their handshake.
Weiss let her shoulders slump in relief, only to jolt upright at a mere glance from her father. No. Jacques. The more he kept those two separate in his mind, the better. Still, if there was anything he was willing to admit the man did well, it was cram an hour of judgment into only a second's gaze.
But to his surprise, Jacques stepped forward and shook Yang's hand next. The two remained in the handshake for a couple seconds too long, challenging one another in a silent contest of will. With a laugh too jovial for Adam to believe was real for a moment, Jacques laughed and let Yang's hand go.
"Quite the boisterous friend you have made!"
Weiss sighed in relief.
Ruby curtsied. Poorly. "Ruby Rose! Pleasure to meet your appearances!"
Weiss buried her face in her hands.
Jacques' lips twitched down, but his smile returned. He nodded to Ruby. "A friend of my daughter's is a friend of the Schnee family."
And then their eyes met. He was within reach of his blade, now.
"Adam," he heard himself say.
Jacques hummed to himself. The Schnee made no other move to him. Typical. Then again, neither did he.
"Ah, if you would excuse me." He turned to the crowd. It was now that Adam finally could look at Blake. She was pale as a ghost, hand only inches away from her weapon. No doubt in case he did something. Smart girl. She tensed when she realized he was staring at her.
"I'm quite sure the rest of you have plenty to do other than watch a father speak with his daughter. Go on! Make something of yourselves!" He gave a sharp wave. The guards moving forward was enough for those who didn't get the hint to abandon the group. Slowly but surely, the peanut gallery sifted away. Blake was one of the last, lost in the crowd.
And when the crowd was gone, so too was Jacques' smile. His gaze, heavy and cold, turned to Weiss.
"Now, then. Why don't you come with me, Weiss? We have plenty to catch up on." There was no room for any other answer than 'yes'.
Adam sneered.
"O-of course!" Weiss replied. "Please, Father, allow me to bring my friends along: I am sure they would have plenty to add to my own recollection of events."
"Actually, I was thinking Adam and I could catch the next fight." Yang brought everyone's attention to her, including Adam's own, finally ripped away from the murderer. "I heard Team JNPR—that's our buddy group—was up next. Gotta support the friends, y'know?" Yang said with a bright smile.
Weiss furrowed her brow as Ruby turned to Yang with a look that screamed 'utter betrayal'. She noticed the lie delivered so confidently: the next teams hadn't even been announced.
She stole a glance at him, and her eyes widened. "I suppose I see nothing wrong with that. It shall just be Ruby and myself, then: is that acceptable, Father?"
Jacques dismissively waved his hand, not even looking at him or Yang. "Whether or not they want to be here does not concern me. You may leave. As for you and your... friend, come along." He turned on his heel and walked back to his silver airship, moving just quickly enough that Weiss had to rush behind him. Ruby stammered and looked between the Schnees and the two of them.
Adam looked down to Ruby, but he didn't move. Couldn't. He couldn't trust himself that the next step he made wouldn't be one that would leave him an inch away from Jacques. That even allowing his stoic expression to crack wouldn't leave his fury bare for all the world to see. No. He couldn't give Jacques that. He wouldn't even give Jacques the 'victory' of ordering him to do anything.
"Have fun, Rubes!" Yang waved and grinned like nothing was wrong. "And be sure to tell me everything!" She called out just a little louder.
Whitley ducked his head down a little.
Yang grinned wider.
"Are you going to stay or not, girl?" Jacques shot over his shoulder, sneer clear in his tone.
"Er, yes, sorry!" Ruby bolted off after the trio of Schnees. The guards stepped in with them. The door closed. And the area suddenly felt far too loud. Adam stared down the craft even as it left.
Yang tugging at his shoulder caught his attention. "Doin' alright?" She had a smile, but the worry was clear in her eyes. She hadn't given him time to answer before leading him back towards the center of the Coliseum. After all the commotion, while people still walked around, they were definitely in a quieter part of the construct.
Adam slowly shifted his jaw, working away the tension. How long had he been gritting his teeth? "I'm... fine," he lied.
"Just fine, huh? I don't know if I believe you," Yang teased as they approached an unassuming, red door marked with 'Maintenance Only'. She glanced around a little to make sure no one was watching, then opened it up and strolled in like she belonged. Adam followed close behind, each step measured and slow.
"And what could possibly make you think that?" They walked down a sterile, tight hallway. Pipes moved along the ceiling. The walls were unpainted, a cold, steel-gray. Yang took the twists and turns at random.
"Pro~obably the fact that you didn't blink for, like, the entire time we were there, you looked like you were going to to snap your sword in half and... oh!" Yang pretended to realize something as the din of the outside was replaced with the low hum of activated Dust. "Your eyes were blood-red the entire time. Kind of a giveaway. So!"
Smiling, Yang turned to face him in yet another featureless hallway, far from anyone's judging eyes, and even further from their ears.
"Wanna run that by me again?" She winked at him.
Adam tried. He tried, at least, to turn away, to gather himself, to perhaps explain. But in the end, that wasn't who he was.
Roaring—no, screaming—hard enough to leave his throat feeling raw, he twisted and slammed his fist into the steel wall. Once. Twice. Again. Again. His sight was red and his thoughts rushed back to him as a tangled mass of emotion. Fury at that devil of a human. Regret for not slaying him. Frustration at knowing he couldn't do the very thing he'd waited so long to do, to complete his task, to complete the White Fang's purpose. Everything he once was rebelling in an instant against everything he believed himself to be.
He wasn't sure when he'd stopped. The blinding light and his rage alike simply dissipated, leaving him with nothing but the cold reality he was used to: by the very nature of his new place, he'd never be able to raise a hand against his father's killer. Jacques had to live.
As Adam pulled his trembling, stinging hand from the cratered and wilting metal, every breath coming to him heavy and harsh, he could feel the shreds of his former self finally falling away like the final sputtering of a flame, leaving only embers.
And he gripped onto them tighter than anything else. That was a fire he was not willing to have die out. Not until he'd faced her.
"Well. That was about as loud as I thought it'd be!" Yang said.
Adam whirled around to face her. Yang stood with her hands on her hips and her good mood seemingly not even scratched beyond her smile being a hint softer. Cheeks burning with shame, Adam looked away.
"You—"
"Been there, done that." Yang waved it off and strolled over, leaning against a more... unmarred section of the wall. "Trust me. But hey, look at you go! That was, what, eight? Ten punches in your Semblance? Progress!"
Adam coughed to mask his laugh and stumbled away to lean against the opposite wall. "Right. Progress in leaving me feel like I'm made of concrete."
A few seconds passed, wilted petals brushing by their legs and dissipating, one by one. Finally, Yang spoke up.
"So... are you going to tell me what that was all about? I mean, I know you've got beef with the SDC, but unless you snuck out to go chop down half the Forever Fall, you weren't anything like that around Weiss."
There was another second of silence. Adam crossed his arms and let out a long sigh. "There is a very long, bitter story behind it, but I'll make it simple." He met her gaze. "He killed my father."
Yang's eyes widened and she stood upright. She opened her mouth to speak.
Adam interrupted her, scowling. "Not indirectly. Not because of his wretched policies and effective slavery. No. He brought a mine down on my and my father's heads to make a public relations coup by saving us all, and when my father was about to free us himself, that bastard had him killed." He gripped his sleeves, the ember he held onto within starting to spread all over again. Adam stifled it.
"Him and thirty-six others," he coldly finished.
There wasn't even a flicker of disbelief on Yang's expression. Only dawning anger. She stepped forward, scowling and ready to say something, only to wince and turn away. She paced, clenching and unclenching her fists, brow furrowed in thought and anger both. Adam watched her as she suddenly stopped. Realization struck. With a look of disgust and anger, she brushed her hands through her hair.
Then turned and slammed her fist into the wall.
Adam could hazard a guess on her thoughts. Despite himself, he couldn't hold back a small smile. " 'Been there, done that', indeed."
"That's bullshit! I knew it was bad, but... he can't just keep walking around after that crap, but..." Yang groaned and brought her hands through her hair.
"Even if I ignored the law and gave in to the life of a fugitive, I can never get vengeance for my father. Not without—"
"Hurting Weiss' dad," Yang finished. She rubbed her temples. "You know what? Nope. Screw that. Tell you what: why don't we just watch the next fight and forget all about the total lack of justice in the world for a bit?"
He chuckled. "I think that would be best."
Adam wondered if it said something about the two on how little they cared for the wrecked wall as they slipped off through the halls, planning to pop out somewhere a little further off from where they entered. The last person they expected to find when they turned one of the corners was Pyrrha. At first, she didn't even look like she noticed them, frowning and sitting with her back against the wall and her gaze locked on the other side, thoughtful.
The two traded glances before Yang stepped forward. "Uh, Pyrrha?"
Pyrrha jolted and leaned forward, eyes wide before they fell on the two teammates. She let out a deep, relieved sigh and stood up. "Sorry, I didn't expect to see anyone through here!" She smiled. "I hope I didn't look like I was ignoring you or anything like that."
Yang waved it off and smiled. "Ah, don't worry about that! I don't think I've ever seen you looking so down in the dumps, though: what's up?"
Pyrrha's smile faltered. She rubbed at her wrist. "It's that obvious, is it? Nora was quite outspoken about looking 'down in the dumps' too, but... well, I'm beginning to think she knows us better than we do."
"Weird how she can't play cards to save her life," Yang mumbled to herself. "Anyways! Everything alright? I mean you were staring off like a zombie in the middle of an employee-only part of the arena, and I'm one-for-one on being a therapist today, so you can tell me."
Pyrrha furrowed her brow, her smile becoming a lot more polite and a lot less understanding.
Adam sighed. "Is the stress getting to you?" he translated.
"Oh... oh! Well..." She sighed. "It could certainly be better. There's plenty of pressure when you're the 'Invincible Girl', especially when this will be the first time I've fought on live television since the Mistral Regional Tournaments."
"Aw come on, Pyr! You took those titles easy: what's the big diff?" Yang crossed her arms.
She masked her giggle behind her hand. "I'm afraid the difference is that it's terribly easy to come out on top if you are well above your peers, but... well, I wouldn't want to sound immodest or anything..." Pyrrha trailed off, trying to find the right words.
"You're with a team and can easily wind up against veteran upperclassmen like we did." Adam cut to the chase.
Pyrrha glanced away, but quietly nodded nonetheless.
"Pssh! If we can fight CFVY, you've got this in the bag, Pyrrha! Plus, you've got Ren and Nora."
"And Jaune," Pyrrha helpfully commented.
While Adam hid his snort behind a cough, Yang jokingly punched Pyrrha in the shoulder, blissfully ignorant of her surprised expression after. "See, there you go! You're, like, an entire freshman team in one girl. You're the Invincible Girl: it's in the name, right? That's who you are!" she declared with a sunny grin.
Pyrrha's eyes darted around for a few moments before, with a sharp nod and confident smile, she looked back at Yang. "You know what? You're right. I don't know what I've been so worried about."
Yang pumped her fist. "Exactly! We'll be watching, don't worry!" With that, she strolled for the door.
"No point in holding back now," Adam added as he followed. "Just don't think we'll make it easy to take the gold," he tossed back with a smirk. The door shut behind him, and Pyrrha was alone.
Only then did she let her smile slip. Pyrrha rubbed at her shoulder. That's what she was: the Invincible Girl... right?
"I'm callin' it two-for-two! Ah, it looks like therapy is something else I'm better than you at." Yang laughed and put her hands behind her head as she and Adam made their way to the stands.
Adam only rolled his eyes.
"And what are the chances! The first team up is another Beacon team: Team Juniper!"
"Look at that: I'm like a good luck charm!" Yang cheered. "Here's hopin' that fancy jet of theirs has a TV!"
Why did they have to leave the TV off, Ruby internally whined to herself as she tried to find something—anything—interesting to stare at. For all the shiny platinum and insignias on the outside, the inside of the Schnee's personal airship was much more... bland. Stark-white, comfy chairs stood out against the ocean-blue carpet and black wood of the cabin doors. Bottles with names she vaguely recalled her uncle mentioning sat in cupholders. The guards sat motionless like automatons, part of the background. Simple, neat, and making her comfortable ride a lot more awkward.
Weiss was busy talking with her dad, which left her with her brother, Whitley. Someone she found out even existed about five minutes ago. And someone who hadn't taken his eyes off of her since, sitting just across from her with one leg crossed over the other and his gaze locked onto her. He was smiling, sure, but it didn't entirely meet his curious eyes. Like he was looking for something.
Oh! He must be wanting her to say something! Ruby steeled herself: that was easy! Now, what did rich people want to hear... compliments!
Ruby sat up straight.
Whitley leaned forward, curious.
"You have..." Wait, she needed a compliment that wasn't weird! Or worse, romantic. "U-um... you have very long legs!" Ruby grinned. Nailed it!
Whitley blinked once. Twice. Then, slowly, he leaned back into his chair, closed his eyes and let out a deep, long sigh. "Why thank you," he said through a smile and gritted teeth. "Your legs are... also nice?"
Ruby knew that tone of voice anywhere: that's when Weiss was extra happy about whatever she said. And not angry at all.
She beamed. "Thanks!"
She had this schmoozing thing down pat!
Jacques' office was a jail cell. His desk took up most of it, leaving only a few inches between the back of Weiss' chair and the wall, even when she was as close to her father's desk as she could get. A bookshelf lined with expensive Gravity Dust just strong enough to keep its contents within during turbulence sat on her side. Its hum was ever-present this close to her ear. The other wall, close enough for her to reach out and touch, was barren other than a family painting. The windows were both on her father's side, closed off. It was even soundproofed.
It was like being at home again. Weiss hated it.
Jacques hadn't said a word yet, hands steepled in front of him and eyes drilling holes into her. She'd remained silent ever since she'd walked in. A test of will.
He cracked first. "Well? Unless you've somehow forgotten how to speak since you've gotten on board, I believe you have quite a lot of explaining to do." The venomous disdain in his voice left her feeling like she lost anyway.
Weiss flinched, but took a breath and straightened herself back out. "If this is pertaining to the calls, Beacon has kept me particularly busy as of late. I am afraid I have had to little time to call ba—"
"I've taught you better than to use lies that foolish," Jacques spat. Sneering, he leaned back in his high-backed chair. "Do you really expect me to believe that you had absolutely no time other than the single time 'Klein' called you?"
Weiss pursed her lips, mind searching for answers, lies, twisted truths, anything to defend herself. But she came up empty. And Jacques knew.
"As I thought. After allowing you to come here in the first place, the first thing you do is abandon us. Have you even contacted your mother?"
She winced.
"She's been worried sick about you." His expression grew stormy. "And for good reason."
Before Weiss could ask or even think on what that meant, he was already onto the next point, the darkness on his face and in his tone passing like a shadow.
"Nonetheless, I suppose some congratulations are in order, Weiss. Were it up to me—and it should have been—you would have been front and center for all of Vale to see: their Schnee savior. You've become quite the talk of Atlas, you know." He leaned forward, smiling.
The sudden shift in tone left Weiss blinking in surprise and her mouth agape. "I am?"
Jacques snorted. "What a silly question: of course you are! Were it not for you and your... interesting cabal of friends, Vale would have had another Mountain Glenn on its hands. I'm willing to admit that I am wrong: insubordination aside, it seems your stay here in Beacon has been good for the both of us!" He chuckled, and Weiss found herself smiling... right up until his frown returned, already threatening to become a sneer once more.
"Which is why I find it such a shame to ask you why I shouldn't be sending you straight to Atlas the second this tournament ends."
This was what Weiss was prepared to hear ever since she stepped in. She forced a faint, but confident, smile. "You said it yourself: I have been building a powerful reputation in Vale that I would not have been able to accrue at home. Additionally, while I may always be able to gain business contacts, having friends in the Huntress profession are powerful connections I could only gain easily today. In Atlas Academy, they tend to be one and the same." And then, her trump card. "Besides, I do want to go down a different route than my sister."
She knew how estranged the two were because of Winter becoming a Specialist.
Jacques nodded, tapping his fingers together. "A fair point. Unfortunately, that 'different route' is set to be an early grave from how incompetent this Beacon Academy is running itself." He scowled. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what a group of freshmen Huntresses-in-training were doing in the epicenter of the White Fang's invasion of Vale!"
Weiss was quick to defend Beacon and her chances there. "We had followed the White Fang! Our mission was for reconnaissance in Mountain Glenn, but we were drawn into the combat until we were forced to depart on the same train they used to breach Vale. If we had not"—she gripped her dress—"then we would have died there, too."
"And so the question becomes: what were you doing in Mountain Glenn? I've done my research: your missions are not to even be near there until junior year at a minimum!" Jacques slammed his fist down onto the table.
"Headmaster Ozpin believed we were capable!"
His brow raised, anger quelled. Slowly, he leaned forward, gaze inquisitive. "And why would he believe that?"
"Because—" Weiss froze. She couldn't tell him: Ozpin knew full well of their extracurricular activities and how capable that made them. As far as Jacques knew, however, it started and ended with her intervention at the docks. "B-because..."
"Well?"
She forced her eyes to stay on Jacques: she couldn't even hint that she was lying. "I'm quite certain he saw our performance in the classroom and believed us worthy. Our team is ranking at the top of the charts in team, partner and single sparring, after all."
"And look how well that did against that Team... 'Coffee'."
She flinched, and Jacques smiled: the cat that caught the canary. "Oh, did you not believe I would be watching my daughter's first official showing as a 'Huntress-in-training'? Really, it was embarrassing, but it was to be expected when you were against junior students. The very same who should be going to Mountain Glenn, not you. Not the only mistake that so-called headmaster has made before." The trap was sprung now. He retrieved a few papers from his desk, shaking his head as he looked over them.
Weiss felt her Scroll buzz in her pocket. She ignored it.
"Surely, you didn't think I wouldn't be taking a very close look at your teammates the moment you joined. Letting someone fifteen years old into Beacon? And having her be your leader, no less? Not to mention her sister having had the delinquent record I would expect from one with her attitude. At least she must have some connections of her own to make these incidents... 'go away.' " He set the papers down. School records. Police reports. Pictures. All of the sisters, and only them.
Too busy trying to think of a defense, her concentration was broken by her Scroll vibrating once. Twice. She ignored it and her father's glare.
"There is just one oddity. The faunus. Strange that he would allow one who is just a veritable hole in the records to join. Do you know anything about him?"
She couldn't help but feel like this was some kind of trap. His gaze was weighing down on her like stones. He'd steepled his hands again. The walls were feeling closer, yet she only felt smaller.
"Did he look familiar to you—this 'Adam' boy?" Jacques pressed.
Weiss opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone banging on the door.
"Weiss! We~eiss! You've gotta see this!" Ruby called out on the other side.
Scowling, Jacques rose to his feet. "Why, the nerve of that gi—"
Weiss jumped up first. "Wait!"
His glare only grew fiercer and aimed solely at her.
"I-I mean, please, Father," she said, recovering. "Allow me: she knows little of public decency." Turning on her heel, she marched over and swung open the door.
Ruby was bouncing on her heels, full of energy, yet her eyes wide in shock.
"Do you mind, Ruby? We were in the middle of—" A Scroll was shoved into her face.
"Look-look-look!"
Weiss snatched it away with an annoyed huff. She glanced down at the message. She gasped.
A text from Yang.
["Guys! JNPR lost!"]
