Volume 2
- To Serve With Honor -
One Week Later
Beacon Academy Mass Transit Airship
In Transit Between Vale and Beacon
Weiss listened absently as the pre-recorded hologram of Glynda Goodwitch welcomed Beacon's latest prospects over the projectors on either end of the main cabin. The speech was canned - and in fact was one of the taglines on the academy's CCTnet site - but even still, she offered the Deputy Headmistress half an ear, even as she stared intently at two of the only three non-student passengers on the airship, both standing near the main hatch.
The two Legionnaires were dressed down from the garb that she'd often seen them wearing in newsreels. Both of the young-looking men wore grey and red-piped utility uniforms and flat-topped garrison caps; one wore three red chevrons of a Sergeant, and the other had two chevrons of a Corporal. The pair were stone-faced and eagle-eyed as their gazes swept over the cabin's occupants, exchanging whispered comments that were accompanied by occasional narrowed eyes or snorts of amusement.
Weiss's own - admittedly self-centered - mind immediately supposed that her father had pressed General Ironwood for additional security around the academy; but a second thought on that, accompanied by the knowledge that her own sister and her partner were present in Vale - and investigating very recent terrorist activity - caused her to dial back her ire, and instead observe the troopers as the airship drew nearer to Beacon's docks.
As the transport vessel started to bank in preparation for docking, both men stepped forward and took positions at the head of the cabin with a clear view of all of the occupants. Most of the nearest prospects looked readily to them, but some noise carried on from the back.
"If I can have your attention for a moment, please," the Sergeant spoke up. He waited a moment, but the noise didn't abate. "Hello!" he called again, to no avail.
The Corporal took a half-step forward, raised a fist in front of his mouth, and cleared his throat.
"Ach-TUNG!" the Corporal barked throatily in Mantlese.
The command caused the cabin to fall silent in surprise.
"Shut up and pay attention," the Corporal instructed the startled onlookers, his deadpan carried in both his expression and tone.
"Thank you, Corporal," the Sergeant said dryly as his younger colleague stepped back. "We're about to dock, so I'll keep this simple. My name is Sergeant Roth; my colleague is Corporal Zhao. Due to the recent unrest in Vale, Beacon Academy has elected to augment its regular security staff and amend its protocols in an effort to better ensure the safety of its current and future students; that would be you lot," he added the last bit in a drawl that narrowly avoided being sarcastic.
"Upon landing, you'll disembark and follow your peers or the maps on your Scrolls to the auditorium for the Headmaster's welcome and your first-night brief; please do your best to stick to the main avenue of the plaza, and head directly to your destination. Myself, the Corporal, and a number of our colleagues will be scattered around the campus to observe and direct any stragglers.
"The Beacon Academy staff and security personnel ask that you please refrain from wandering too far afield on campus for the first few days while you're getting settled in, and while we get acquainted with all of the new faces," the Sergeant concluded. "My men and I appreciate your cooperation; and we wish all of you the best of luck with your Initiation."
The men wordlessly stepped back and resumed their positions on either side of the doorway as the cabin fell into hushed whispers, with suspicious stares being shot almost unanimously at the Legionnaires.
"Are these guys supposed to be VDF?"
"Nah, the uniform's all wrong. Maybe they're cops or private security?"
"With that dull color scheme? Those guys've gotta be with Atlas."
"Why the hell would Atlas be running security for Beacon?"
Weiss closed her eyes, crossed her legs, clasped her hands primly in her lap, and hummed quietly at the last question. She opened one eye and sent a sideways inquiring glance to the white-suited SDC attendant - an ordinary-looking brown-haired man a few years her senior - seated a respectful distance away, who could only offer a wordless, clueless shrug in response.
The airship finally settled astride the landing area, ending these conversations as the gangplank extended and the prospective students poured out onto the docks and out into the plaza to gather their belongings and socialize.
Weiss and her attendant set about gathering her admittedly excessive number of snowflake-branded suitcases full of her wardrobe and her Dust; it was fortunate that she had been able to talk the dockworkers in Vale into loading her luggage cart along with the rest of the cargo, or the endeavor probably would've taken significantly longer.
"Is this it, Gabriel?" she asked as she heaved the last case onto the top of the stack on the cart and puffed softly from the exertion.
"I believe so, Miss Schnee," the attendant, Gabriel, confirmed as he panted lightly from a similar exhaustion. "Please, lead on," he added with a short gesture of his hand.
She took a moment to gather her breath before taking off, drawing her Scroll from a hidden pocket in her ensemble's combat skirt to consult the campus map. Fortunately navigation appeared relatively straightforward; the plaza was a straight shot from the docks to the administration building, which contained the auditorium on its lowest level.
The only hitch came a few dozen meters later, when a voice called out from afar and off to one side.
"I'm gonna need you to tell Jeeves there to turn around and get back on the ship, Snowflake," a familiar voice drawled with an undertone of amusement.
Weiss stopped on the spot and pivoted sharply to face the offender. "Shouldn't you be off chasing terrorists?" she demanded, only to come up short.
The interloper in question was, as she suspected, the one and only Jonathan Amsel; however, her first observation took note - with no small measure of discomfort - of the several new and fresh-looking burns and scars decorating his features.
"Is my pretty face not quite as pretty as you remember it?" the male Specialist picked up on her awkwardness and asked with a wry smirk.
"How in the world do you keep getting hurt like this when you have Aura?!" she demanded sharply in response, fighting back the urge to stalk forward and examine the wounds up close.
The man shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess I'm just what you might call a…" He trailed off before grinning slyly, "... Special Snowflake."
"You, and that pun, can go to hell," Weiss bit out acerbically.
"Language, Princess," Jack grinned wider, "What would people think if they heard that kind of talk from a Schnee?"
"For one, I'd say that surprisingly, she's got a point," an unfamiliar voice interjected from behind them.
Weiss and the Specialist both turned to eye the newcomer. The girl was small, close in stature to Weiss even; she had brown hair tied back into a ponytail, as well as flat grey eyes, a tanned complexion, and numerous freckles decorating her exposed skin. She wore a black long-sleeved jacket adorned with brass buttons and zippers, with the sleeves rolled up to mid-bicep to slow a cream-color liner; along with maroon pants and black low-top tactical boots.
"Schnee or not, that pun was terrible," the girl finished with a small, taunting smirk.
"Bah, everybody's a critic these days," Jack scoffed lightly in reply. He then sobered up and looked again to Gabriel, who stood uncertainly beside the cart. "But seriously, you're gonna have to lose the help; we're currently restricting access to staff, current students, and initiates," he finished flatly, folding his arms and staring at the attendant.
It was at that point that Weiss finally took note of Jack's attire: The same grey and red utility uniform as the Legionnaires from the airship, albeit with the addition of a rather dashing greatcoat in the same colors, hanging open at the waist with a broad black leather belt hanging from loops around his midsection, as well as black leather gloves and an officer's combination cap.
"How can you even wear that heavy thing in this weather?" she asked absently, earning a nod of agreement from the other girl beside her.
"Uniform standards supersede personal comfort," the Specialist droned in response. "That, and the grunts from the garrison would get confused if they were getting ordered around by a Chief Corporal from another unit, so it's just easier to look like an officer if I want anybody to listen worth a damn," he added absently.
His gaze then snapped back to Weiss and his eyes narrowed. "Speaking of 'listening worth a damn,'" he pressed.
"I received approval from Beacon's administrators weeks ago to have Gabriel here!" Weiss protested indignantly.
"And then there was a terrorist attack last week at our airship port," Jack retorted bluntly, drawing an uncomfortable silence from those gathered. "Approved personnel only," he repeated with finality, before looking at Gabriel and adding, "Nothing personal. Schnee's gonna have to start taking care of herself a little early."
"Mister Schnee will hear of this," Gabriel stated firmly.
"Good," Jack shot back, "Then you can also remind him that there are two Atlas Military Specialists and over fifty other combatants securing the grounds and facilities in addition to the standard complement of VDF personnel; not to mention the members of staff and faculty, and the students themselves."
Gabriel came up short at that, and settled for nodding briefly to Weiss before turning on his heel and storming off back towards the airships.
"That was rude," was all that Weiss could huff as she watched the attendant go.
"I'm just the messenger and the gatekeeper, Snowflake," Jack replied unapologetically. "Better get to pushing; it looks like you've got a heavy load to haul all the way across campus," he added with a cheeky half-smirk; he then turned on his heel, and moved away to resume his post some ways off of the main avenue.
Weiss turned to look back at her towering cart of luggage and sighed. "I should've packed lighter," she lamented.
"You really should have," the other girl - whom Weiss just noticed was still present - agreed mildly.
An awkward silence fell between them, before the girl sighed.
"I'm Ilia," she finally greeted, "I can help you with all this, if you'd like."
"I would appreciate that," Weiss said gratefully; she paused and added, "But don't you still need to find your own luggage?"
"You're looking at it," Ilia replied, shrugging one shoulder and drawing attention to her solitary black backpack. "C'mon, let's get this over with," she continued, taking a position at a rear corner of the cart; Weiss moved to the opposite corner, and the two set about pushing the Schnee heiress's absurd cargo towards the auditorium.
As the rear of the pack of students finally filtered into the Administrative Building, Jaune was able to make his way over to the canvas tent that was serving as the rally and control point for the day's extra Legionnaire patrols.
"I hate this damned coat," he grunted as he passed through the flap and started fiddling with the buckle.
"You don't hate the coat, you hate the weather," Sergeant Roth interjected; he was seated beside a radio hub, leaning back precariously in a folding chair with his boots kicked up on the folding table in front of him. "The coat is a bonafide chick-magnet, just like all the rest of our non-combat uniforms."
"I hate the coat based on the weather and the fact that I can't use it to pick up chicks in these surroundings," Jaune amended reluctantly.
"I dunno, Chief, the Spec seems to like your coat just fine," Corporal Zhao observed cheekily. "Of course, she might just like it better when it's on her floor."
"Two words, Corporal," Jaune deadpanned.
"Write-up?" Zhao guessed nonchalantly.
"Field exercise?" Roth also chimed in, earning a slight wince from Zhao.
"Sparring match," Jaune finally answered, eliciting another collective wince from the tent.
"I'll take on anybody from this unit!" Zhao said with as much bravado as he could muster.
"You forget," Jaune grinned, "I'm going to be the academy's Assistant Combat Instructor this year; I can draft you to fight students. As few or as many at a time as I see fit, on as many days as your C-O will let me have you."
"Shutting up," the Corporal finally conceded.
"That goes for any and all of you wiseasses," Jaune added, sweeping an accusatory finger across the dozen-odd men clustered in the tent. Some raised their hands in surrender, and the message was effectively delivered and received.
"Checkpoint Three's confirmed all students accounted for in the Auditorium," one of the radio operators at another comms hub piped up, "We officially have verified profiles on all of the initiates."
"Run off the numbers and the demographics," Roth ordered.
"Seventy-six candidates," Jaune muttered as he was handed a printout and read the first line, "Goodwitch has her work cut out for her with this batch."
"Don't you mean Ozpin?" Zhao asked with a quirk of his brow. His confusion only deepened as Jaune and Roth snorted in unison and said no more on the subject.
"Thirty-nine males, thirty-seven females; pretty even spread from across all Kingdoms," Roth rattled off. "As well as five from Menagerie, and three of- Wait." The Sergeant's upper body turned while the rest of him somehow miraculously remained precariously tilted back in his chair. "The fuck is this, Deitner? We have the most extensive intelligence apparatus on the planet, and yet we still have three kids listed as 'Indeterminate Country of Origin'?!"
"I wasn't in charge of finding out the natural hair colors and favorite foods of a bunch of teenage Huntsman-wannabes, Boss," Legionnaire First Class Deitner shrugged helplessly in reply, "I just type and answer the radio."
"Send those fucking files back to the STF, and tell that asshole Adler that I'd better not see them again until they have grid coordinates for those brats' houses," the Sergeant growled.
"Aye, Sergeant."
Not for the first time, Jaune was impressed by Roth's dedication and attention to detail in his extra last-minute security responsibilities. The decision to add most of the CCT garrison's complement of Legionnaires to Beacon's available pool of security personnel was made literally three days ago, and already the Sergeant and his colleagues had done full sweeps of all accessible facilities, catalogued and added activity monitoring protocols to nearly every entryway and door on campus, and ordered additional background checks on nearly every unfamiliar faces that was supposed to be arriving with the span of the week for the new semester.
The man was a taskmaster, plain and simple; and yet he still held the admiration and loyalty of every Legionnaire in his chain of command, simply because he asked nothing that he would not do - or had not already done - himself.
Roth took a deep cleansing breath and finished massaging his brow. "Where's your better half, Spec?" he asked, looking towards Jaune.
"She was asked to be present with the faculty for the opening address," Jaune replied, flipping the Sergeant off nonchalantly as he replied, much to the man's amusement.
"Why wouldn't they want you up there, too?" Zhao opined.
"I'm only a Teaching Assistant," Jaune shrugged, "I'm honestly there to learn as much as any of those kids; it's just that I've got a little more experience, and I learn better when it's my job to know the information. They'll be getting to know me soon enough."
"You mean when you're pulling out every dirty trick in the book to beat them into the sparring ring?" Roth snorted.
"I have no illusions of superiority when it comes to fighting teenagers who've been training for their entire adolescent lives to fight," Jaune retorted flatly. "As far as I'm concerned, Goodwitch's job is to teach them to fight other Huntsmen; and it's my job to teach them to fight soldiers, and to restrain themselves if they need to subdue civilians."
Roth nodded absently, only to pause and send the Specialist a strange look. "You have Aura, though," he stated. "How're you gonna do that last one?"
"If the fact that I've managed to gain no less than half a dozen more scars since I've had my Aura unlocked is any indication," Jaune drawled, "I'm gonna guess that I'm really bad at controlling my Aura. So, the chances of me getting fucked up by one of these freshmen is better than nil."
"Preach, brother," someone chimed in, earning snorts of morbid amusement from the tent.
Jaune checked the time on his Scroll and looked to Roth again. "If we've got full accountability, it's probably about time to pack up the CP and start the sentries on their patrols," he stated, phrasing his order as a suggestion due to their tenuous rank-station dynamic and the presence of Roth's subordinates.
"Aye sir," Roth nodded, affirming to Jaune that he was more than happy to defer to him on rank. "You heard the Specialist," the Sergeant added to the tent, "Pack your shit up and start hauling it back to the garrison; and if you're supposed to be out standing watch, start walking."
There was some sarcastic grumbling as about half of the tent's occupants claimed their weapons from the tent entrance and set out to walk patrol rotations. The remaining comm techs started to shut down their equipment and stow it in hardened plastic cases, with a few handcarts being rolled out of a corner of the tent to shuttle everything back to storage at the CCT.
"What's next on the agenda, Spec?" Rother asked idly as Jaune folded his coat over one arm and made for the entrance.
"I need to check in with Specialist Schnee and the Deputy Headmistress and find out where they want me for the evening," Jaune sighed. "Knowing my luck, I'm gonna get stuck babysitting the slumber party in the Main Hall and making sure that none of these brats are trying to score with each other in their sleeping bags," he grumbled. "Never mind that I'm not much older than they are."
Roth sent him a strange look. "Bullshit," the twenty-eight-year-old Sergeant stated.
"Twenty-one next year," Jaune retorted, the tired look on his weathered face contrasting sharply with his claim.
"Fuckin'-A," Roth whispered and shook his head in disbelief and amazement.
"None of that, Sergeant," Jaune ordered in a soft growl, slinging his folded greatcoat over his shoulder. "Ping my comms if anything crops up tonight; otherwise I'll see you tomorrow at oh-five-thirty for the day's briefing."
"Aye sir." As Jaune left the tent, Roth's eyes closed, and he inhaled slowly through his nose. "Zhao?" he inquired, feeling his second-in-command's presence at his shoulder. "You did a year in Asteria, right? Any thoughts?"
"Leave it alone, Sergeant," the twenty-two-year-old former-Mistrali man replied firmly. "Old or young, Spec or no Spec; he's the Chief Corporal, and I'll trust him with my life until he gives me a reason not to, same as any other Legionnaire."
Roth exhaled, and nodded slowly. "You're right as usual, Zhao."
Winter sighed in relief as the last of the students filtered out of the auditorium and headed for the Dining Hall for dinner. She loosened her stance, surreptitiously stretched her back, and rolled her shoulders; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Glynda doing the same, and the two exchanged tiny, sympathetic smirks.
Winter's smirk was that little bit more sympathetic, because she could at least have Jaune give her a backrub later.
Speaking of the devil - Jaune shouldered past the final initiate, dressed to the nines in the Legion's utility uniform with his coat tossed over his shoulder.
She sighed internally in disappointment - she really did like that coat on him. Honestly, the whole uniform was immaculate; say what you will about the Atlas military, but they really had a yen for uniform design.
"Did I miss the 'rah-rah' speech?" the younger Specialist asked rhetorically as he reached the two women.
"Just Ozpin extolling the virtues of Huntsmen for fifteen minutes," Winter responded flatly, earning a slightly sour sideways glance from Glynda.
"No offense intended, Miss Goodwitch," Jaune offered on her behalf when he saw the look, "The military just has a certain way of jading servicemembers' views of Hunters. Hell, Winter's an Atlas Academy graduate."
"I've just developed a somewhat dim view of morale speeches," Winter added, folding her arms and glancing away awkwardly. "It's nothing personal against the Headmaster."
"Ditto," Jaune nodded in agreement.
"To each their own, I suppose," Glynda finally sighed. She turned to look directly at Jaune, her Scroll tablet cradled in the crook of one arm, and her other hand resting on her hip. "Nothing untoward took place during arrival, I presume?"
The Specialist's shoulders squared. "Campus is secure and we've confirmed the arrivals of all expected initiates," he reported with a nod. "Background checks have also come back for ninety-six percent of the roster; three of the candidates came back inconclusive, but we've sent those profiles back to the STF to be reevaluated. We're not anticipating any trouble from the odd ones out," he added placatingly, "It's just a bit of a gap in coverage that we're not accustomed to seeing from the Spooks, and Sergeant Roth is more than happy to rake them over the coals at any chance that he can get."
Glynda snorted in amusement. "Understandable," she muttered. She then cleared her throat and added aloud, "Excellent. Please pass on my regards to your colleagues; so far as I've observed, their professionalism has been exemplary. And though Ozpin might not agree with it, Beacon appreciates the assistance in assuring the safety of its students and facilities."
"The Legion is happy to be of assistance, ma'am," Jaune replied amicably. "Garrison duty becomes tedious and dull after a time, so I'm certain that the troops appreciate the change of pace."
It was Winter's turn to snort in amusement.
"You think I'm joking?" Jaune asked with a sideways glance at his colleague.
"It's just a very diplomatic response," Winter replied placatingly, "You're already starting to sound like an officer."
He shuddered dramatically, "Don't put that evil on me, please."
"I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing," Winter rolled her eyes, "Specialists are supposed to serve as leaders to Huntsmen and soldiers alike."
"Specialists are supposed to point in a direction and then run off to kill Grimm and leave the ranking NCO to actually sort the troops out and get them moving," Jaune corrected dryly. "Officers do the same, only instead of running off to kill Grimm, they stand around with a map and a compass and offer advice that their NCOs are morally obligated to take with a heap of salt."
"We're not that bad," Winter denied defensively.
"Apologies, ma'am, but you really were that bad," Jaune grinned. "Remember the Richtofen Incident?"
Winter's felt her face warm in embarrassment. "We agreed never to discuss that," she growled, "Being that most of the details of said incident are supposed to be classified."
"Must've missed that memo," Jaune hummed, folding his arms and continuing to smirk as Winter glowered at him.
"Context for present company, if you might?" Glynda interjected from between and beside the pair.
Before Winter could vehemently deny the request, Jaune started to elaborate. "Newly-minted Specialist Winter Schnee was assigned to a mission to investigate a military installation on one of the inland mountains of Solitas that had been recently overrun by the Grimm. Being that the base was outside of Atlas-proper, and my section had recently begun recertifying for Q-R-F duty, my squad and two others from other units were assigned to accompany her to secure the perimeter of the facility.
"Upon arrival, the base was devoid of military personnel and any obvious signs of Grimm, and most of the infrastructure appeared intact; so we landed our transports at the facility's airship port, secured the L-Z and established a command post, and started sending out foot patrols to sweep the base."
Jaune's gaze was distant and his grin was nostalgic as he continued. "The first call that came in about a Tundra Beowulf, Winter took off like a bat out of hell towards the patrol's location, without so much as offering any further direction to my Section Leader on what we were actually trying to find. Took half an hour and my four-man team physically chasing her down to get her back to the C-P to actually explain the objective to our Sergeant so that he could reform the unit and start a directed sweep towards our designated target area on the base."
Winter's face glowed fiercely, and she refused to meet Jaune's or Glynda's amused gazes. "I knew what I was looking for, and I had no interest in placing you or your comrades at risk for such a menial objective," she insisted.
"Never mind that by the end of the mission, we'd killed no less than eighty-six Tundra Beowulves, twenty-seven Polar Ursai, and thirty-five Centinels," Jaune added, sidling up beside her and slinging an arm around her shoulders as she doggedly refused to look at him. "Specialist Schnee was just so excited to be out leading her own mission, that she forgot that was actually supposed to be leading thirty-eight Legionnaires."
The Deputy Headmistress looked on warmly, making no effort to hide her amusement at the normally-unflappable Specialist's blatant embarrassment. "Everything went according to plan in the end?" Glynda asked absently.
The pair of Specialists stiffened noticeably. Both of their gazes locked forward and stared out into the void far beyond the walls of Beacon, and Jaune's arm around Winter's shoulders tightened unconsciously, bringing her in closer as his hand rested on her upper arm in a comforting gesture.
"It's classified," Jaune muttered distantly, "Forgive me, I was out of line; I shouldn't have said anything."
"You're a worse gossip than the maids," Winter chastised, absently raising her free arm and catching Jaune's cheek with the back of her hand lightly. Jaune took the hint and separated himself from her, taking a slight step to one side.
"Anyway, I came to see if there was anything I could do to further assist with handling the students for the evening," the younger Specialist swiftly changed topics.
Sympathy and professional courtesy overrode her curiosity, and Glynda shook her head. "We should have the rest of the evening well in hand between myself and Peter," she said. "If you feel so inclined, you could take a stroll through the Great Hall in a few hours once the students are bedding down for the night to quiet any rabble-rousers."
"Of course," Jaune nodded. "In that case, I think I'll get changed and find some chow; I'll probably spend the evening reviewing the new case files that Detective Rojas delivered yesterday."
"You need to sleep tonight," Winter said sternly, turning her head to fix him with a flat stare. "We need you to be functional tomorrow to help monitor Initiation.
"I know my limits," Jaune bit back with consternation in his voice. "I'll be fine."
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the hall, leaving a concerned Glynda and an irritated Winter staring after him.
"I apologize if I brought up any bad memories," Glynda offered sympathetically.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Winter insisted, "He was correct to state that he had no business speaking on the subject in the first place."
The Specialist's stony expression held briefly, before falling into a small frown. "I shouldn't have snapped at him," she muttered regretfully, "It was a bad time for both of us." Winter mentally debated herself for several more moments; she finally sighed and shook her head. "I might tell you about it someday if you still want to know; but it's not worth thinking about right now."
"If you say so," Glynda agreed hesitantly. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a different topic. "Do you have any thoughts on the initiates so far?" she finally blurted out, swallowing her embarrassment at her own uncertainty.
"I'm glad to see that Weiss decided to attend," Winter replied immediately, grateful for both the change in subject and the opportunity to gloat on her little sister's behalf. "I'm also glad that she appears to have already found someone to associate with rather than keeping to herself."
"Yes, that would be Ilia Amitola, I believe," Glynda said, smiling and laughing softly at Winter's renewed energy. "Miss Amitola is an Argus native; she has some records from Sanctum, but chose to test in directly rather than submit a certificate of completion from a combat school."
"Is that unusual?" Winter inquired with genuine interest.
"Not as such," Glynda replied, "We regularly see cases of students who had to drop out of combat schools for one reason or another, but still elect to pursue a career as a Hunter. Usually they drop out due to personal conflicts or family matters. On rare occasions there are documented behavioral issues which resulted in expulsion; however, we still allow these individuals to apply on the condition of additional documentation proving that they've sought professional help to resolve their root issues."
"That's very considerate of you," Winter acknowledged softly.
"Humans are imperfect creatures," Glynda stated simply. "And besides, we need every good Huntsman and Huntress that we train in these trying times."
Winter nodded in understanding, and paused to consider her observations. "I believe I also noticed one of the VPD's detectives in the audience," she noted.
"Emerald Sustrai," Glynda nodded in confirmation. "She's Chief Detective Rojas's adopted daughter, as well as her protégé for the last three years. Rojas is reluctant to let go of one of her best detectives, but acknowledges that Miss Sustrai is better off getting away from the city and expanding her horizons as a Huntress. She plans to continue working part-time on weekends for the Department to pay tuition, however, so she will likely continue to be an active part of the current investigation, whether or not she completes Initiation tomorrow."
"Is there any reason to doubt that she will?"
"Not as such; Miss Sustrai has an impressive track record in her work with the VPD, as well as training and endorsements from several ex-Huntsmen employed by the Department," Glynda admitted with a shrug. "We're also not sure why she's insistent on paying tuition, considering that as a current civil servant, she qualifies for a full endorsement from the Academy courtesy of the local government."
Winter hummed in consideration. "There was also a blonde girl who seemed to be causing quite a stir during the Headmaster's address."
Glynda visibly grimaced, effectively piquing the Specialist's curiosity. "Yang Xiao Long," the Deputy Headmistress spoke the name gravely, "A Signal graduate from Patch; the daughter of one of their professors, actually. The very literal definition of a firebrand, that girl; she has numerous documented behavioral issues, including a few suspensions. However, she finished her year as the top fighter at Signal by a wide margin, and is one of the cases where she was able to provide evidence of attempts to reconcile her issues."
"You believe that she'll continue to be an issue here?" Winter asked with a similar grimace.
"My hope is that she'll learn some humility from her classmates, and some restraint and positive social skills from interacting with a team," Glynda admitted candidly. "However, if we come to find that none of her peers are able to match her in combat, I fear that we'll only see more frequent and severe outbursts, up to a point where we're faced with an incident that Miss Xiao Long won't be able to come back from."
- To Serve With Honor -
Three hours later, the initiates had been stuffed to the gills with some of the most delicious food that many of them had ever eaten, and were now changing into nightclothes and rolling out sleeping bags around the floor of the Great Hall.
One entire wall of the hall was a row of floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun had finally set a few minutes ago, and the shattered moon of Remnant was casting thin beams of pale moonlight onto the collection of teens as they laid down or clustered up their bedrolls and chatted quietly.
Weiss and Ilia had claimed a place next to the wall and rolled out their bags; Weiss had let her hair down and was brushing it absently, while Ilia had produced a camping lantern and a paperback novel and was reading quietly with her back against the wood paneling.
As she brushed away, Weiss's attention was drawn by a collection of boisterous laughs from the middle of the room; a tall and muscular red-haired young man was surrounded by a collection of other male youths, and she briefly strained her ears, only to feel her face color and quickly tune them out at the lurid observations that the boys were exchanging loudly about some of the ladies in the room.
"Pigs…" she muttered distastefully, setting her brush aside in the small bag that had contained her sleeping gear. She had managed to arrange for the bulk of her substantial cargo to be safely stored in a separate area until after Initiation, whereupon it would - hopefully - be transferred to her new dorm room.
"'Boys will be boys,'" Ilia added in an exaggerated drawl, before adding her own derisive snort, "Boys will be horndogs until they get it beaten out of them."
"I resent that remark," a male voice noted quietly from the wall beside them; both girls jumped slightly in surprise and glanced at the source. Weiss's expression soured upon meeting the perpetual smirk of Jack Amsel. "Some boys are of better upbringing and get it berated out of them at an early age," he continued.
"I suppose there is something to be said for proper parenting," Weiss grudgingly acknowledged. "Not that you would know much about proper upbringing, if your last visit is any indication," she sniped.
"A gaggle of older and younger sisters doesn't have much to do with an education on high society, I'll give you that," Jack drawled.
"How many sisters is a 'gaggle,' exactly?" Ilia asked before Weiss could keep sniping.
"Seven." He grinned at their open-mouthed looks of surprise.
"All of those ladies in your family and you still know nothing about women," Weiss finally said.
"My knowledge of women is unparalleled, thank you very much," Jack retorted. "My experience with women that I'm not related to by blood? Different story."
Weiss's mouth clicked shut, and she found nothing to add to that.
"Are you going to do something about them?" Ilia interjected, gesturing to the increasingly-noisy cluster of boys in the middle of the hall.
Jack sighed and pushed off from the wall, his arms unfolding as he made to take a step - only to stop upon spotting a head of lustrous, voluminous blond hair bobbing towards the group from the opposite side of the room. "Let's see how this plays out," he said instead, remaining planted and crossing his arms again.
The blonde hair - attached to a voluptuous purple-eyed girl in black short-shorts and a cropped orange tank top - stopped at the edge of the cluster, and she said something indistinguishable from their current distance. A noise rose from the group, followed by a comment from the largest boy, and then laughs from the others.
The girl's lilac eyes flashed red - and before Weiss could blink, the giant youth was laid out on the floor, the arc of his fall traceable from the end of the girl's outstretched fist.
Silence fell and then sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "It's cross-training with the Army all over again," Weiss heard him mutter as he moved towards the incident, where the rest of the boys had gone deathly quiet and shrunk down into their sleeping bags.
Jack stopped facing away from them and addressed the girl, folding his arms and speaking sternly. As Weiss and Ilia watched, the girl turned to face Jack with an irate expression - only for her visage to visibly brighten and then melt into lidded eyes and a salacious grin as she responded to him. Weiss heard herself groan in dismay.
"He's not that handsome…" she grumbled under her breath.
"I dunno, he's got that 'rugged charm' thing going for him," Ilia replied absently. "Angry Girl there clearly sees something she likes." Her point was proven as they looked on and the girl stepped into Jack's personal space, running her finger down his chest and saying something undoubtedly seductive, if the glowing red 'bedroom eyes' were any indication.
Weiss felt an odd combination of relief and vindication when Jack swatted the girl's hand away, accompanied by some stern words. He took a large step backwards at the same time, careful to avoid tripping over any students on the floor.
Angry Girl's expression soured again, and she huffed and turned on her heel to stalk back to her sleeping bag. Some snorts of amusement rose from the cluster of boys, only for them to fall silent again at a sharp look from the scarred Legionnaire; Jack left a few parting words that had the boys settling into their bed rolls as he turned and came back to his spot on the wall.
"Thank you for that, Specialist," a new female voice sounded from beside Jack.
Weiss and Ilia jerked in surprise again, while the Specialist simply turned his head to meet - natural - red eyes set into tanned skin, framed by brilliant green hair.
"My pleasure, Detective," Jack nodded with a small smirk. "Here for a career change?" he added curiously.
"Going where the winds take me," the Detective replied cryptically from her place mimicking Jack's stance on the wall.
Weiss looked on blankly as Jack nodded in apparent understanding. "I'll leave you ladies to your rest, then," the Specialist stated. "Bonne chance," he added softly with a sideways glance at Weiss before he departed.
"What did he say?" Ilia whispered as he walked away.
"It's 'good luck' in Old Valean," the Detective explained, pushing off from the wall. "Which is funny, because I would think from his name and his rank that he was Atlesian or Mantlese."
"He's a Foreign Legionnaire," Weiss noted unconsciously, only to flinch as she realized that she might have given away too much. The Detective made a noise of understanding.
"So he's an expat," the green-haired girl muttered, "Interesting. Very interesting…"
The Detective then shook her head and finally looked at Weiss and Ilia. "Thanks for the tip. I'm Emerald," she added absently, "And what he said, I guess."
Weiss could only watch her go with a bewildered expression, and Ilia shook her head slowly.
"Valeans are fucking weird," Ilia finally stated, laying her book aside and clicking off her camping light.
"... Yeah," Weiss agreed after a brief moment of consideration.
Thoroughly puzzled, but distracted from any previous worries about the next day, the girls laid down and quickly drifted off to sleep.
Nodding as he passed the pair of Legionnaires flanking the entrance to the Main Hall's foyer, Jaune sighed in relief as a cool breeze passed over the healing scars on his exposed forearms and biceps. He had dumped his greatcoat and uniform blouse in his quarters, leaving him in his grey fatigues and a tight black undershirt.
He pointedly ignored the faint tingling sensation on his chest where the chesty blonde's finger had passed over. She'd unapologetically stared him down from head to toe like a piece of meat, and even blatantly propositioned him straight after putting a guy out cold with a single punch.
"Huntresses are fucking weird," he muttered, the itch finally compelling him to reach into his pocket and draw out Dimitri's cigarette case and lighter.
He hadn't had a drop in over a month, and he'd come to the conclusion after three weeks that the cravings had been a significant contributor to his insomnia. On the other hand, the cigarette he'd had a few weeks ago during his talk with Charlie had actually taken part of the edge off, and had gone from a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence to a nightly routine.
He knew from Winter's crinkled nose in the mornings that she was onto his new habit from the start, but she had yet to comment on it; for that he was immensely grateful, particularly because he'd actually been getting a few hours of sleep every other night since he'd taken up smoking.
Likewise, his casual patrols up and down the airship docks had become regular; though they could hardly be called 'patrols,' considering that he spent most of the walk absorbed in thoughts and planning for the next day. At the very least he liked to think that with the Legion taking over nightly security routes, his presence would keep the men on their toes, even if he might not strictly be paying attention when he passed them.
As Jaune turned and started out onto the main avenue that was partially suspended off the edge of the cliffs, he took note of a silhouette standing out towards the end of the largest landing pad's main avenue, facing away and staring out at the Vytal Sea in the distance. With a weary sigh, he started down the road towards his partner.
Winter didn't clearly remember when or how she'd gotten out to the landing pads. Following her conversation with Glynda and Jaune in the auditorium, she'd eaten a quick meal in the Dining Hall before heading back to her room; only to be blindsided on the way by memories.
"On the bounce, Specialist," a familiar voice rumbled from over her shoulder; she jumped slightly, and immediately kicked herself for being caught so thoroughly unawares. "Does the 'getting enough sleep' rule only apply to me or something?" Jaune snarked tiredly as he took a spot beside her, their shoulders brushing briefly.
"It's certainly more relevant to one of us than the other," Winter shot back without any heat, and without looking away from the distant water.
"... I thought you said you'd made peace with the Richtofen Installation awhile ago," Jaune stated, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
"I thought I had," Winter said with a sigh, "But it's like you've said time and again; some of these things just don't go away so easily."
"I wouldn't call that rigmarole that you put yourself through to get the families settled afterwards an 'easy' process," he remarked wryly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze fix on the same intangible point beyond the horizon. "You still remember them all, don't you?" he asked softly.
"Albert Mondschein," she replied, her eyes misting over as faces played through her mind in time with her recitation. "Otto Lantz. Viktor Alexeyev. Daniel Larsen."
"Chen Hao," Jaune fell into cadence with her, lowering a cigarette that she hadn't even noticed him smoking, "Karl Baumann. Edward Essen. Jonathan Schreiber."
"Samuel Kravtsov. Wei Xuang. Dmitri Diamandis. Hans Gies."
"Allen Katz. Elias Katz. Adrian Drivas. Marcus Kuhn."
"Alexander Semyonov…" Something caught in Winter's throat and she trailed off, unable to finish the list as she stared staunchly forward and refused to acknowledge the tears streaming down her face.
"... Joseph Weber," Jaune finished in her stead.
"Ruhe in Frieden," the pair recited together, and then fell silent as a cool breeze drifted in from the coast. Winter shivered, and squeezed her eyes shut briefly to chase off the tears.
"... Pass me one of those," she rasped quietly, gesturing to the smoldering half-cigarette in Jaune's hand. Instead of making a smart comment as she expected, her partner simply drew his battered silver case and opened it, shaking it and then holding it out to her with one white stub sticking out above the rest.
She drew it out and placed it between her lips, and waited as he rummaged for his lighter; she heard it click several times before Jaune cursed softly in annoyance and put his own cigarette back between his teeth to free up his other hand. She watched the smoldering cherry in front of his face, and a spark and a sly thought crossed her mind.
"Forget it," she said, turning slightly to huddle against Jaune and slinging an arm around his hips to draw him in. Another cold wind blew across her back, and she shivered and brought him close.
He caught on to her idea, and the pair leaned over until their heads pressed together. They each raised a hand to steady their respective cigarettes, and Winter's finally caught alight from Jaune's embers.
The pair parted just enough to not blow smoke into each other's faces, and Jaune watched with a raised brow as Winter took a pull and exhaled smoothly. "Little Miss Rebel Schnee's been a secret smoker all along?" he teased with a small smile.
"The freedom I felt after leaving home and getting settled in at Atlas Academy got to my head a bit," she shrugged unrepentantly in response, "I tried a lot of things. Binge drinking, smoking, perhaps a substance or two in between." She took another pull, and frowned. "I've put most of it behind me since acknowledging the wisdom of 'everything in moderation,' but some days just call for a pick-me-up."
"I'm familiar with the feeling," Jaune muttered redundantly.
The two settled into a comfortable silence, Winter's arm still around his waist; she realized that at some point, his arm had settled across her back, and she smirked faintly in satisfaction as she leaned and rested her head on his shoulder.
"You're right," she whispered after a time, "They do deserve better than to be forgotten. It's wrong of me to keep badgering you to move on, when I'm still caught up in the past just the same."
"But you have a point too," Jaune replied, his arm squeezing her shoulders comfortingly, "While remembrance is all well and good, it becomes counterproductive when the past starts to interfere with the present. Reflection is important, but it's as you said - everything in moderation."
Winter closed her eyes and let out a low hum of satisfaction. "Say it again."
She felt him roll his eyes, but he humored her. "You're right, Winter."
"Say it one more time?" she purred teasingly.
"Everything in moderation," he shot back sternly, as his grin gave him away. "Now come on - Glynda's going to give you enough shit in the morning if you reek for smoke, never mind what she'll think if it looks like you went without sleep."
"Why am I the sole subject of ridicule here?"
"Because we've established that, while I should be striving to meet a minimum, you literally are the higher standard."
"You say the sweetest things that make me want to beat you into the pavement," Winter growled playfully.
Jaune only grinned wider, and she was briefly captivated by how his brilliant cobalt eyes lit up even in the shadows of the night. "You know you love me."
Mercifully, he then turned away as they started walking, and thus missed her cheeks visibly burning in the glow of the street lamps that lined the avenue.
'If only you had half a clue, you dunce.'
End Chapter 13
Author's Note: Man, I'm ahead of the game; it's only been just over a month. People are gonna get the mistaken impression that I'm consistent or something if I keep this up.
Also: My ship. It sails. Yes, I used the "Cigarette Kiss" from Black Lagoon. I'm not sorry, because it's one of my favorites scenes from one of my favorite anime of all time. Go watch it.
Anywho. I cut it off here a bit shorter than usual because the next chapter's wholly Initiation, plus a few little twists. See any cast or character changes so far that've piqued your interest?
As I've warned everyone before, we're in AU territory, folks - it's a free-for-all for you because 'New Canon' is all in this here brainpan o'mine. Yang, Ilia, and Emerald are just the tip of the iceberg. (Hint: Who's missing? Where are they now? Leave your wildest speculations in the Reviews.)
See y'all sometime next month for Initiation.
Stay Frosty.
-Knightmare Frame Razgriz