Chapter 3: Awkward Introductions
"The random hand of Fate delivers me to you."-Farseer Taldeer Ulthwé, Warhammer 40000
Pyrrha Nikos. From RWBY.
I saw her die.
An arrow in her chest and then incinerated. Poof, Best Girl, gone.
And she's right here... in front of me.
This HAS to be a dream.
"Sir?"
Her voice snapped him out of his stupor and back into the reality he supposedly was in.
"Huh? O-Oh, sorry, sorry," he replied, trepidation in his tone, "I-I'm fine, Ms... Ms. Nikos..."
Something about that sentence seemed wrong to legitimately come out of his mouth. If words had taste, the words that exited his mouth would taste beyond foreign; like they belonged in another galaxy.
About that time the other kid—Jaune, he realized—came up, his mind almost entirely blanking the boy's existence out. Jaune Arc came running up to the both of them, his forehead drenched with sweat. They must have been hightailing it to wherever—maybe his commotion with the Beowolves had attracted their attention.
"Hey, uh, you okay there buddy?"
"Jaune, I think he's a little shell-shocked at the moment, give him some air."
"Huh? Oh, uh, sorry 'bout that."
"No, no," he replied to them, "I, uh, *ahem*, I definitely didn't have that situation under any form of control."
"It looks like you're okay, nothing too serious on cursory glance," Pyrrha spoke up.
"Yeah, if you don't count the post-adrenaline shakes, I'm pretty damn peachy-keen after all that. Uh, nice javelin toss, by the by."
Pyrrha smiled, a genuine smile of mirth, one that cut through the shock of the moment. "Well, judging by how you used my last name, you already know me."
"Y-yeah, your reputation proceeds you, Ms. Nikos."
His intuition told him that was a bad decision if ever there was one, as Pyrrha's smile seemed to fade ever so slightly, the glimmer of her emerald eyes dimmed ever so as well.
Fuck, right, she doesn't like talking about her fame. Smooth, jackass.
"Hey, the name's Jaune," Jaune introduced himself, extending his hand for a formal handshake, "pleasure to meet you Mr..."
Oh fuck.
One of the first things he remembered about the world of Remnant was how the people after the Great War—which probably had nothing on WW1, he joked about once upon a time—started naming their kids on the basis of colors.
His name did not have the luxury of being easy to convert to a color scheme.
Well fuck, how are you gonna change your name into something color-based?
Fuck it, I'll just say it's an heirloom name; technically it is.
"...Jacob. Jacob Muller."
"Well, Mr. Muller," Jaune replied, "there IS safety in numbers. Wanna come with us?"
Jacob's heart about screamed like Ash Williams blowing up an army of skeletons. YEAH BABY!
"Uh, definitely, definitely. I, uh, well, it's not like I have anyplace better to go."
A small chuckle made its way through the group; Jaune's genuine laugh of amusement, Pyrrha's sweet giggle of bemusement, and Jacob's hearty chuckle—halfway in amusement, halfway in nervousness.
The sound of a shotguns and ursine roars broke up the short but sweet moment.
…UNSC M90 Shotgun, his head rattled off, Halo 3 edition.
Yang Xiao Long.
A small grin manifested across his face, too small to be noticeable by Pyrrha and Jaune.
"Sounds like a party going on over there," Jacob affirmed, cracking his knuckles, "Whoever's going nuts with that shotgun must be laying into that beast."
"Sounds like that blonde girl, Ruby's sister," Jaune noted. "Knowing her, shotguns seem up her alley."
"She a firecracker?" You already know the answer.
"You have no idea."
"Then she's probably fine." Heh, I feel more sorry for the poor Ursas.
The ursine roars continued, followed in short order by the blasts from Ember Celica, Yang's gauntlets.
"Yeah, you're probably right. Anyway, I guess we're supposed to be finding some kind of Temple of some kind," Jaune said as he began heading the direction of the cliffs, "and I think it might be back that way."
Something clicked in Jacob's mind; cliffsides, Emerald Forest, earthquake last night...
Oh shit.
"Uh, I-I wouldn't go that way, actually," Jacob piped up, concern evident in his inflection. Jaune and Pyrrha both turned, blue and green orbs eyeing him with curiosity. Time to crack out his Storyteller side. "I was passing by those cliffs earlier and I think I remember seeing something heading into the caves that way. A... deathstalker I think they call them?"
"Did it look like a large scorpion?" Pyrrha asked.
"Yeah, yeah, big, fuck-huge, big-ass pincers, long tail, stinger like a damn tank round."
Jaune did a double-take, either because of the mention of the deathstalker or Jacob's swearing. Pyrrha's eyes widened a little as well, though Jacob swore it was the faintest look of surprise. Note to self, curb your sailor-tongue a little, dipstick.
"Why would they not warn us about something like that? That's quite the obstacle for first-years," Pyrrha reflected.
"Maybe it wasn't spotted...? Honestly, who cares; It's over there, we're over here, let's not poke the scorpion with a stick, OK? And to tell you the truth, I think there's better luck if we head northward. I saw something that looked like a bunch of ruins about north of here, so that's probably your objective." Please take the hint, please take the hint, I'm in no mood to be shish-kebabed by Pulmonoscorpius' big brother...
"Huh, that could be the temple," Jaune piped up. Ha-hah, the noodle-head has a smart moment!
"...I suppose it would be the safer bet," Pyrrha reluctantly agreed. Something in the back of Jacob's mind told him that she might have been... Anticipating the fight? Nah, can't be.
"Well come on, let's not wait for the glaciers to melt!" Jacob let slip a nervous but bemused chuckle as he began to trek towards the Temple and by extension the commotion of Yang's fight. Jaune and Pyrrha glanced aside at one another before deciding to follow this... unusual individual.
Jaune couldn't make heads or tails of this... gentleman, if he could really call him that. Even in comparison to himself he seemed to exude a sense of—as it were—being where he really shouldn't be. No armor, a dinky pistol, swears like a sailor, if this guy's a Beacon student, then my name is Johann... and it's not.
"Ah! Son of a bi- uh... biscuit-weaver," Muller cried out as a low-hanging oak branch snapped back in his face, almost failing to curb his tongue in front of them. Actually, come to think of it...
"Hey, uh, excuse me, Mr... Muller, right?"
"Huh? Oh, no no, please, Mr. Muller is my dad. Call me Jacob if you don't mind."
"Right, Jacob... I don't recall seeing you yesterday at Professor Ozpin's speech. Were you in the back or something?"
"Uh... Yeah, I kinda tend to hang out near the back. I have a habit of rolling solo on most things."
"I also remember not seeing you on the pads for the initiation."
A pregnant pause. Caught you red-handed.
"...Okay, okay, you caught me, I'm not a Beacon student. I, uh, I kinda woke up here in the forest yesterday morning. I honestly don't know how the hell I got here anyhow; Last thing I remember was heading to work, but... even that doesn't seem right."
It was Pyrrha who was first to inquire about his predicament. "Civilians should not have access to the Emerald Forest, especially just before an event like this. How on Remnant did you not get noticed?"
Muller scoffed bemusedly, "If you really thought I had the answer, do you think I'd be still be here? Professor Ozpin was either too busy to give a flying fu-uh, feather, or he decided to let me be here as a variable to the initiation or somethin'. "
Jaune felt the scathing snark of the comment even if Muller wasn't looking back at him directly. Geez, what's he got against Professor Ozpin? Got snubbed out of attending or something?
"Regardless," Muller continued, "I'm here now, might as well roll with it; Sure, I don't have a fancy metamorphosing weapon like Ms. Nikos has, but this baby," he flashed his pistol with a bemused grin as he looked back at them, "I feel will get me far."
He's absolutely out of his mind.
Just at that moment, Muller's demeanor suddenly whiplashed; His smile dropped of the radar and an eyebrow arched up as he looked back to the path ahead of him. He stopped in his tracks, looking up into the treeline, as if expecting something to pop out and attack.
"Wait a sec," he whispers, "Anyone else notice something?"
The silence was deafening.
Silence.
Uh oh.
Before Jaune could say anything, Muller had taken off in a mad dash towards where the fighting in theory had been. Pyrrha was hot on his heels, leaving Jaune to look like the fool in the dust. "Hey, wait for me!"
It wasn't too hard to catch up with them, especially Muller. He was huffing and puffing violently, though the look in his eyes said that he really didn't care that his lungs were running on fumes. Geez, this guy is definitely not cut out for Huntsman training. Then again, I'm one to talk.
It didn't take them long to reach a small clearing, where the obvious signs of battle were everywhere; Dust cartridges scattered about, deep claw marks in the ground and trees, a couple trees outright torn from their roots.
And amidst the grass, a single golden strand of hair proudly laid amidst the sea of green.
"Look around... for any... signs of her," Muller wheezed out, his lungs trying to play catch up. They each took to clues of their own accord, Jaune and Pyrrha investigating the trees while Muller investigated the battleground itself. After a few minutes, they had come to a relative agreement of where Blondie had taken off to.
It didn't take long for them to find Blondie, though. Or, rather, for Blondie to find them.
"Gangway!"
Jaune had just enough time to see her scream by, a mild look of annoyance evident upon her face.
And following hot on her trail was a pair of Ursa, big enough to bat Jaune's upper torso off in one good clean swing.
Oh boy, just our luck.
Out came Crocea Mors, the antiquated blade of the Arc family; as old as it was, the sun danced off the blade, as if it was happy to see the sword unsheathed for battle. Pyrrha skidded in front of him, Miló and Akoúo̱ proudly gleaming in the morning light. Pyrrha herself remained steely in the face of their newcome adversaries. The click of a gun hammer informed them of Muller's status, along with the distinctive clink of a pocket knife.
"Ugh, seriously, a pocket knife? You brought a pocket knife to fight Grimm?"
The dejected annoyance in Muller's tone said more than the actual words he said. "Just shut up and kill something."
Pyrrha took to the fight as a fish to water, launching herself at the lead Ursa. Jaune hesitated only to see Muller run up to his left side and take a knee. "Get some, fuckers," he snarled as he started emptying a clip into the second Ursa. Jaune wasted no time trying to help Pyrrha, but found that he was more than lacking in capacity to fight it. For every 10 of Pyrrha's strikes, Jaune maybe landed 2 or so, dancing around the ursine Grimm to find a critical opening. But the Ursa just wouldn't let its guard down. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Muller backpedalling away from the second Ursa, firing desperately into its face.
The lead Ursa nearly took his head off while he was mentally occupied. "Geez!"
"Go help Mr. Muller," Pyrrha cried out in the middle of a backflip over the Ursa's head, "I've got this one."
"Uh, honestly I think he's alright, he was doing a good job of- yikes!" Jaune nearly lost his head again as the Ursa lashed out wildly seeking some form of purchase. "I-I think he's doing-"
"AAAARHH!"
Muller's voice rang out behind them, a cry of a wounded animal just struck by a predator. Jaune whipped around to find out what happened.
The Ursa had Muller pinned on the ground, its teeth sunken deep into Muller's left arm—his gun arm, Jaune noticed—and the knife in his right hand was desperately stabbing into the Ursa's jugular. Tears of pain were evident in Muller's eyes, his face contorted in an animalistic snarl as he tried to break free. The Ursa had been trying to go for his face, and it was obvious Muller had moved his arm up to protect his head from the beast's maw. He cried out each time the Ursa tugged, seeking to tear flesh from bone. Blood was starting to run profusely from the wounded limb: Muller's face was covered with his own, his white shirt splattered with crimson. The Ursa's lips were stained with it as well, to match its glowing eyes. He tried to land a few more stabs, but the Ursa had other plans, dragging Muller along for a few yards before tossing him into a nearby tree. Muller's back hit the trunk with a agonizing-sounding thud, the yell from his throat indicative of the excruciating pain he was in. Fortunately, the impact was cushioned by the massive backpack he wore.
Jaune felt sick to his stomach, but rushed the Ursa as it maintained its focus on Muller. He managed to land a good strike in the Ursa's neck, nearly severing its head from its shoulders. Where the heck did that come from, he admonished the sudden boost in his strength. Was that my Aura?
He turned his attention back to Muller, but his stomach churned at the sight. He was bleeding profusely, 6 decent-sized holes in his arm where the blood was escaping. Muller was starting to look pale and his breathing was shallow, already the shock of the attack was setting in and the blood loss compounding atop that. "Jesus Tapdancing fuck, the fucker got me good, didn't he," Jacob shakily said through gritted teeth. "Hey, all warriors get scars eventually, right?"
Jacob was not in the best mental state at the moment. Shock was seeking to envelop his mind and he had never been formally introduced to it before. That level of pain was unheard of to his body, setting a nice new threshold in his mind for maximum pain a body can receive. He was bleeding out like a stuck pig, and effectively his gun arm was out of commission at the moment. If another Grimm attacked him—and no doubt the negative emotion would catch their attention—he was guessing he had 100 to 1 chances of getting out alive. Oh, wait, Jaune was there. 90 to 1, in that case.
Even then, that was if he didn't bleed out in the next few minutes.
"Fucking A, that's not good," he said as he looked down at his mangled arm. As painful as it was to move, most of the motion was still available.
"Hey," came a feminine voice, "You guys ok?"
"Oh yeah, obviously, you can tell by my arm bleedin-"
Jacob's angered sarcasm stopped cold at the sight of raven hair and amber eyes. She wore a black buttoned vest over a white sleeveless high-neck undershirt, white shorts and high black stockings covered up her long legs. Atop her head, a cute black bow, hiding Faunus cat ears. Blake, he gasped in his mind. The two locked eyes and for a split second they could read one another like an open book. But before either of them could get a good mental glance, the connection was severed by the sound of Yang looping back around to meet up with them, Ember Celica roaring the whole way down to the ground.
A mane of golden hair was the first thing Jacob saw of Yang Xiao Long; then again, besides that amazing personality of hers, it was one of her most noticeable features. She was grinning ear to ear, obviously having the time of her life. It's Yang, stupid, he berated himself, she could get her ass kicked and still come out with that goofy grin plastered on her face.
Yeah, a part of himself replied, unless you lop off her right arm halfway down.
Yang's smile dropped suddenly as she took notice of Jacob. "Yikes, what happened?"
Jacob felt like a annoyed retort was wanting to worm its way out, but all he could muster was a weaker-than-normal, "Your Ursa buddies... decided to give me my first set o' combat scars. Here I am hoping these aren't the last."
Pyrrha had finally come over, obviously having no trouble taking down the ursine Grimm. "Is everyone okay, I thought I heard—Oh my stars, Mr. Muller!"
"Ah, fret not," he shakily spoke, doing his best at a British accent, "'Tis but a flesh wound!" He tried to laugh, but he was finding laughing to be a lot more energy consuming than previously.
"Why didn't your Aura protect you!?"
"...I, uh... well, uhm..." Shit, Aura. I don't have one. Hell, can I even unlock one?
"He must've used his up when he fought those Beowolves," Jaune concluded.
"Yes, exactly! That's exactly what happened..." That noodle-head just spared me another awkward reveal.
It was Blake who came up to him, urgency in her step. She took a knee and began to reach for Jacob's shirt. "Hang on, I've made makeshift bandages before," she asserted, punctuating her point by ripping off the lower 4 inches of cloth from the shirt.
"Hey, that was my favorite shirt!"
"Yeah, well it'll be the one you're buried in if we don't get that wrapped up, so shut up and let me wrap it."
Blake's retort was scathing, silencing Jacob with no chance of him responding in kind. She worked with amazing speed, bandaging the wounded limb within a minute. Jacob was trying to figure out where she would have gained the knowledge to wrap a wound so efficiently. Then it hit him, almost as harshly as the Ursa's attack.
Oh, right. White Fang protests.
In the back of his mind he noticed that sense of tire and shock had lessened dramatically, leaving him while still somewhat winded but still able to get up and fight. The hell? He eyed Blake with curiosity, only to notice a dark outline had encircled her body, licking at his arm where the wounds were.
"...Wait, what?"
"I used some of my Aura to reduce the shock, dummy. You should be good to go while we're out here, but you're gonna need to have that looked at when we get back to Beacon."
...I don't recall that being a thing in the show, Jacob questioned to himself, No one ever did anything like that. Blake's Semblance is Shadow Clone Jutsu 2.0, not healing. What gives?
"I didn't know that was a thing you could do with Aura."
"What do you mean, Huntsmen use it all the time in the field to help civilians when they've been attacked."
"Uh, right. Thank you... Ms. Belladonna."
Blake had been securing the bandage when he said that, and her surprise was more than evident when she started and tightened the bandage down to an uncomfortably tight grip. Jacob grunted in surprise in turn, the pain flaring up immensely.
"How do you know my name?" Blake asked, the slightest edge of fear mingling with malice in her voice. She's afraid I'm a Fang operative. Shit.
"I, uh, I met your parents a while back when I visited your hometown with my family; Kali and Ghira, right?"
Blake looked as though she was holding in the urge to retreat or strike out at him. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Gambol Shroud, the blackened blades gleefully glinting in the sun. "I, uh, just recognized you by your resemblance to your mother." He flung a quick wink at her to attempt let her know he was aware of her secret, but avoided trying to make it seem malicious.
Miraculously, Blake got the message, eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise, though she did seem to relax a little afterwards. "Ah, I see..."
"Well, enough of that," Jacob affirmed, leaning back against the tree for leverage. "I don't know—argh—about you guys, but I wanna get out of this forest before we get any more predators on our Six." He moved to pick up his pistol, an ungodly twinge of pain shrieking its way up his arm. Had it been any other day he probably would've shaken it off, or ignored it outright; today, however, it was enough to make his legs buckle underneath him. He took a knee, saving himself from meeting the ground face first, only to look up and find himself kneeling before Pyrrha. Had someone taken a picture at that exact moment, it would have looked as though a knight were kneeling before his queen in reverence. A slight tinge of red coated his face in embarrassment as he forced himself upright and back onto his feet. "Alright, enough lollygagging. Let's find this temple before I bleed out."
And under his breath, echoing in his mind in unison, he muttered, "Talk about a damn-fine dream; beats my usuals by a thousand leagues..."
Well, that went about as well as expected; I'm bleeding like a stuck pig, I've made iffy first-impressions, and part of me still thinks this is a dream. Also, AU powers; Not overly-powerful, the idea is a basic healing boost, only enough to slow bleeding/halt shock in its tracks.
Next chapter, I meet a Rose, I get my ribcage crushed by Fem!Thor and I make Poe jokes out the ass. Fun times ahead.
Reviews are welcomed with open arms, and I hope to catch you... in the next chapter. Buh-Bye~!