Well, that last chapter was angsty as fuck. Felt like a damn Linkin Park song was gonna start blaring at any second while I was writing.
Anyways, the plot continues rolling on, and things are about to be hot and bothered as it were, so standby.
Chapter 17: Change in Plans
"No plan survives first contact with The Enemy." —Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels
"Then you are not making the right plans." —Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists, in response to his brother.
Over the course of a lifetime, one will see many things that either lift your spirits or drop them like a rock. For some, the former took the shape of watching their baby take their first steps, or winning the lottery or other myriads of things that force a great and mighty grin. For others though, it took the form of the defeat of one's opponent and their submission to your will.
Vulkan He'Stan despised the latter of those two wherever he went.
A morning in Vale was always a pleasure for Vulkan He'Stan to witness, even if he was only catching the tail end of it. From atop the small balcony of the hotel he could look out and see all of Vale stretch before him. In comparison to the great and dreary ecumenopolises of say Armageddon and Necromunda the city of Vale may have been small potatoes in comparison, barely even on par with the largest hab-centers on some Death Worlds. Perhaps that was why Vale was so dear to his heart; It was small and—while perhaps not entirely weak—it was cozy, though nowhere near as cozy and homely as his people's village on Nocturne.
By the Primarch did it hurt to think about Nocturne. Had it changed since he had been unceremoniously dropped here? Had it been attacked? Had it thrived? Had his Primarch returned to his people in these darkest of times?
So many questions for the Emperor, and yet no answers.
Yet he refused to allow despair to control him, let alone whisper in his ear. When he had arrived here unceremoniously and no doubt through the twisted machinations of The Enemy he had left the Chapter in good hands. Tu'Shan was no slouch, and he cared greatly for both the people of Nocturne and the people of the Imperium. If the Primarch returned and met Tu'Shan there was no doubt in He'Stan's mind that Lord Vulkan would happily call him Son.
He took a deep breath in, catching the smell of the early morning dew and the clean air. While it was still tinged with the faintest taste of smog from the fires of forges down in the Industrial District, the air here was so fresh that Macragge would turn green with envy in comparison of how clean the air was.
It was a shame that he no longer had his multi-lung though; he missed being able to withstand such toxic fumes with so little effort. Hell, in general at times he missed all of his gene-seeds, even that damnable Melanochrome defect that plagued his fellow Salamanders. While certainly he was still stronger and tougher on a basic level than most of the rest of his brothers of different Astartes Chapters—in no small part due to the nature of living on a planet like Nocturne—there were some instances where he missed having his Ossmodula and his Biscopea.
Out of the corner of his eye, a wall of blue walked beside him. "Judging by the look of things I would say you're missing some of our gene-seeds," Titus said with a content sigh, "And believe me, I know exactly how that feels."
Vulkan laughed. "Really now? Which one do you miss the most?"
Titus leaned onto the rail, the 2nd Company Captain hunched over with his elbows on the rails. "Easy," he said, "my Larraman's Organ. I miss being able to heal a wound in seconds rather than wait days on end for a wound to heal, Huntsman Aura-healing notwithstanding. What about you, Vulkan?"
"Lyman's Ear. I still can't get on a boat or a plane without feeling sick to my Emperor-damned stomach," He'Stan replied with a chuckle.
Titus looked over his shoulder and back into the room, musing to himself, "I wonder what Logan misses the most, or Gabriel for that matter."
"Knowing Logan," Vulkan replied, "he probably misses his Preomnor. Now he has to actually think about what he is eating; that or his Oolitic Kidney, for the same reason of course."
Titus chuckled. "Are we sure he doesn't still have that? You should have seen him down an entire 6-pack of beer just to get a buzz about 4 years ago at the Atlas Vytal Festival." The two burst out into laughter at the thought of the Great Wolf of the Vylka Fenryka desperately downing a six-pack in the hopes of getting drunk.
As their laughter died down, the skies overhead continued to brighten, casting them in a warm golden light with the steel of the building shimmering in the sunlight.
"It's a beautiful morning," Titus sighed. "Reminds me of my days as a Neophyte on Macragge. Did I ever tell you about my time as a recruit?"
Vulkan nodded as a bemused smile crossed his lips. "No, none of us besides Logan have told of those days come to think of it."
Titus' gaze became long and misty as a nostalgic smile formed. "On the first day of the Terran-Standard month, all Neophytes were given the first half of the day to pursue whatever they desired: training in combat, strategy, philosophy, the arts, whatever you could name we practiced."
Vulkan joined his Ultramarine teammate in leaning on the rail. down below was a 14-story fall to the ground, but considering the heights they both used to endure this was a cakewalk. "Oh? I didn't take the Ultramarines for being so lax about something for even 12 hours," he said with dripping sarcasm. "And what did you do with that half-day?"
It was a few seconds before Titus answered. "The first three years I spent those days training just as I had always done. Back then I took the Codex Astartes to heart with no question of it, just like Leandros." For a brief moment Titus' eyes showed signs of regret at the uttering of that name. "I would train until my legs would collapse and my brothers would have to haul me back to the barracks just to unceremoniously toss me into my quarters."
Vulkan couldn't stop his amusement from escaping his throat in a boisterous laugh. "Well," Vulkan said through the chuckling, "I imagine that didn't last long afterwards, right?"
Titus shook his head. "One of those mornings after a mission in the Scout Company, I had spent the entire night in debriefing the battle for the Master of Recruits to analyze and correct any mistakes my team and I had missed. I was so dead-tired even with my Catalepsean Node working perfectly that I nearly fell asleep on the walk to the training hall. But when I got there, I had rounded the door into the training room... and there was the Captain of the 1st Company, sparring with my Neophyte team."
"Saul Invictus," Vulkan remembered. "I had heard that he would often train with the Neophytes to pick out good candidates for promotion in the future."
"Well, suffice it to say I felt more than embarrassed about being so late; at least as embarrassed as an Astartes can be," Titus said wistfully. "When it came time for me to test my mettle, Captain Invictus put down his sword, came up to me and said—"
"I distinctly remember hearing this one Titus," piped up a female voice behind them, "and to make a long story short Vulkan, Captain Invictus told him to rest up and take the day off the following day; supposedly every Ultramarine within 20 yards stopped in their tracks in Emperor-damned shock."
They turned around to find Mira standing in the doorway, her pink fuzzy robe and slippers adorning her and a hot mug of coffee in hand. She wore a knowing smile as she looked at the two. "That following day Titus took it easy for a change and ended up painting the Konor Ridge in the morning light. He actually went and painted it again from memory for the house, and it currently is sitting over the mantle as a reminder of home."
"Sorry to disturb you love," Titus apologized. Vulkan simply bowed his head and smiled as she replied in turn, "It's alright, I doubt I was going to sleep in much longer anyhow. Logan and Gabriel want to talk to you though in regards to that Muller boy."
Vulkan's mood turned southward. So much for a completely pleasant morning, he mused as the trio returned inside the room.
As the arrived at the kitchen, the were already greeted by the sights of Logan and Gabriel cooking up breakfast; judging by the massive skillet of hash browns, scrambled eggs on another skillet and sausage links on yet another, it was going to be a meal fit for an Astartes. Logan was pouring out drinks as Gabriel worked the kitchen, the Great Wolf pouring a smidge of a cheap champagne from their first night together as a team again into his morning orange juice.
"A mimosa, at this time of the morning? You really need to cut back," Mira commented in concern.
"I know," the old Wolf sighed, "That's why I tossed out my whiskey last night. After this, I'm gonna try going a week cold turkey and see how that goes."
"Regardless, we need to talk about some things. Namely Mr. Muller, and some of our other friends," Gabriel said as he continued to cook—the very thought of a Chapter Master cooking for himself was always delightfully hilarious to Vulkan—while little more than an undershirt and a fresh set of tan cargo pants.
"Oh? What do you mean by that last part," Titus asked the Blood Raven.
"Darnath and Luce gave me a call last night, said they were coming into Vale tomorrow; Their daughter is supposed to be fighting as a Lone Wolf on behalf of Haven."
"Oh, how is Delia doing? By the Emperor," Mira began to say in bewilderment, "it's been nearly... what now, a year since we last saw her when she started at Haven?"
"Two years I think Mira: she should be turning 19 as of next month." At that Titus went up and poured himself a mug of coffee as well, immediately taking a big gulp of the amber brew. "Sure beats Imperial recaf, at least this actually has a palpable flavor." Mira replied with a raised mug of her own in agreement.
"Anyway, besides the Lysanders coming," Angelos continued, "There was also a message from Dante, Pythol, Corven and Ahmrad informing that they will be in town as well. Oh, and I received a text communique from someone we haven't heard from in years."
A pregnant pause overtook them. Vulkan's eyebrow creeped upwards in anticipation.
"Ciaphas is on his way over from Atlas."
A collective laugh of surprise consumed the room; Good ol' Ciaphas Cain!
"By the Primarchs," Grimnar laughed, "it's been years! Did he say when and where?"
"He said he would be at the docks tomorrow on a vessel named 'Frozen Mercy' set to dock at 13:00 hours," Gabriel replied.
"We have to be there to see the old bastard," Logan replied as he finished a sip from his mimosa. "I still have a couple HERO OF THE IMPERIUM jokes to tease him with!"
Vulkan however was focused on the first part of Gabriel's original statement. "So Gabriel," he began, "what was it you wanted to say about Jacob?"
Angelos remained silent for a minute before he finally answered. "The question of the hour is whether or not Mr. Muller is a fellow Imperial," he said as he passed out plates full of his cuisine. As he sat down he continued, "If he was a fellow Imperial, than he should have recognized you the second he laid eyes on you."
"He could be from a remote corner of the the Imperium," Titus replied as he began to cut into the sausage links on his plate, "perhaps he is of the Calixis Sector."
Gabriel shook his head. "I doubt it; He seemed too generally nice to hail from such a damnable place."
Now it was Mira's turn to pipe up. "Perhaps he was a fellow Guardsman, stationed on some backwater planet where Marines are rarely if ever seen."
"He would have drawn attention to himself with fervent prayers to The Emperor and a spiteful hate of Faunus," Logan noted. Mira couldn't deny that her fellow Guardsmen tended to take their devotion to illogical extremes.
"...Maybe he's not of the Imperium," Logan said aloud in thought, "perhaps it is all just a fluke of luck."
The silence in the room told him that they were all staring at him now with some form or curious or incredulous looks on their faces.
"We may be looking for a Daemon where there is none as it were," Grimnar said as he finished his hash browns. "I would bet that perhaps someone from much earlier in our world formed a small version of the Imperial Cult where Jacob came from that spoke of our world in more... abstract ways; it could be that he is merely the byproduct of a deviation of the Imperial Cult."
The other 4 in the room shared looks of thought before nodding their heads in agreement; That was more than likely to be the case.
"Regardless, we should keep an eye on him," replied Gabriel, "He's set to join Ozpin's group anyhow, putting him much closer to us than what we would encounter normally. Now, Ozpin has requested that I offer combat training and instruction to these Huntsmen-in-training, and I have no doubt that the same applies to everyone on VLAT. This could be key to figuring out what's going on."
Vulkan hated the notion of spying on the poor boy; it was not in the nature of a Salamander to be deceptive to his allies. But when Gabriel had an intelligent moment, everyone listened for good reason; his plans had yet to throw them astray.
"...Very well," Vulkan said after a minute of mulling over, "I suppose we have little choice." He picked up his glass and offered it in toast with three words that they all knew by heart.
"The Emperor Protects."
A chorus of the same three words echoed across the room as 5 glasses clinked together to seal this mission in ironclad promises.
And for the first time in years, Vulkan He'Stan, Forgefather-turned-Huntsman felt that same gnawing pit he first felt when he first arrived.
When he first arrived... how strange and memorable that had been all those years ago.
After all, what else is more memorable than the day you died in battle?
SMACK!
"Auurgh!"
With a massive thud, he collided back-first with the wall of the auditorium ring. Pain reverberated through every bone in his body. Fortunately his Aura held firm, sparing him a broken jaw from that upswing, though now it had dwindled to only 12%. Wincing his way through the pain, he hoisted himself onto one knee in a desperate attempt to get back to his feet.
He heard the footfalls, followed by the warcry. 5 seconds to impact, he deduced mentally.
He looked up. His foe was running at breakneck speeds, mace held high over his head, ready to bring it down on the crown of his head and splatter his grey matter across the floor.
But his foe left his chest open for attack.
This is it!
He got to his feet, bracing for the attack with his shield and sword. His foe lept at him, hoping to get a boost of strength from gravity pulling him back to earth.
He rushed forward. He swung at his foe's torso.
He felt the blade make contact with his foe's Aura.
Cardin Winchester was sent sprawling off to the side, the impact of the blade sending him into a wall.
He looked up at the screen overlooking them.
Cardin's Aura had slammed into the red, resting squarely at 6%.
"And that's the match! Jaune Arc wins!"
He stood in silence as the watching crowd erupted into cheers. He stared down at Crocea Mors, a grin overtaking his lips. I won?
He looked up at the gathered students. It was a sizeable class all things considered, but everyone he knew was there sans 3 of the members of CFVY of course; Velvet sat off to one side clapping in excitement for him. He spotted RWBY near the front, all of them clapping and cheering in some form or another, including Yang giving him a two-pinkie whistle and his Snow Angel giving him a polite golf-clap. Beside them, the rest of his team were absolutely ecstatic: Nora was hugging the very air out of poor Ren's lungs and whooping for Jaune while said green-clad Huntsman desperately threw Jaune a thumbs up. Beside them, Pyrrha beamed with joy, and perhaps some pride as well.
And sitting there beside her, Jacob was grinning madly, shaking a fist and shouting "Yeah, you go Jaune!"
Jaune felt his heart flare with pride. I won!
"No fair teach," he heard Cardin moan through his teeth, "I knocked him out of the ring twice."
Professor Goodwitch walked up between the two of them, staring directly at Winchester. "Yes Cardin, that is true," she said, "but today's matches were about Aura endurance, not tournament technical defeats. If it had been yesterday, you would have indeed won; However, Mr. Arc took the victory this time around."
Cardin smashed his fist into the tile in frustration.
Professor Goodwitch turned to Jaune. "As for you Mr. Arc, congratulations. I know you've been looking forward to eventually beating Mr. Winchester in an even fight."
"Well, yeah I have been kinda looking forwards to the day I did, I just... didn't expect it so soon."
Goodwitch simply smiled and said, "I'm glad to see your training sessions with Ms. Nikos have been of great value to you."
Jaune felt the blood rush from his face. "Wait, how do you know—"
"Mr. Muller informed me."
"...Ah, right," he said as he felt the blood flow rush back.
Glynda turned back the rest of the student audience. With a raised voice, she said, "Alright students, I believe that will have to be our last spar for this class today. Remember to continue training in both combat prowess and your Aura; both are crucial to a Huntsman, and slacking in one or another can have dangerous consequences. Class dismissed."
Jaune hopped down from the raised platform as it returned to the ground, only to be glomped by Ruby and Nora in excited glee.
"I can't believe it Jaune, you actually beat him!" Ruby squealed in delight.
"That's our fearless leader!" Nora said as she crushed Jaune in a bearhug.
"Guys, it was nothing," he insisted as the rest of their teams approached.
"Nothing my ass," Yang replied as she reached up and tousled his hair, "You nailed him on that last one."
"Well, proper form will certainly help in a fight," Weiss said as she came up to him with an impressed smile.
He felt his courage jump again; time to show off a little for Weiss. "Well, I'm glad you were impressed, Weiss. Perhaps we could later—"
A finger in his face stopped the thought in its tracks. "I'm going to cut you off right there and vehemently say no, Jaune."
Well, it was worth a shot.
Just then, Pyrrha walked up to Jaune and gave him a gentle but firm hug. He couldn't help but return the hug back.
"Jaune, I'm so proud of you," she said as she continued to hug him. "That fight went amazingly."
"Thanks Pyrrha, but I would have never gotten here without you helping with my training," he replied.
She let loose of his hug and backed off a step, still grinning ear-to-ear. "True," she said, "but this is your victory. Savor it!"
She wasn't wrong. The last month of training with her had give his fighting skill a considerable boost; Where once he struggled to even land a blow on Cardin almost a month ago, now he actually able to closely compete with Cardin. Granted, that mostly consisted of keeping his shield up a ton throughout the fight, but regardless the point remained.
He had finally won a fight against Cardin.
About that time Jacob walked up, a grin across his face too. "He-hey, there's the Arc d' Triomphe!"
"Uh, what?" Jaune asked in confusion.
"Joke from home, forgot that context's important," Jacob replied with a hand wave. "Regardless, nice job out there." He then extended his hand up to give him a high five.
Jaune would be remiss if he didn't respond in kind. Their high-five was solid and loud, more than evident by the stinging across his palm.
"Honestly I should thank you as well," he said as he put a hand on Jacob's shoulder, "your style and Cardin's match up pretty closely, outside of the stuff Pyrrha's taught you."
"heh-heh, I'll take that as a compliment," Jacob chuckled. Soon he was joined by several other giggles and laughs as well.
Right about then, Professor Goodwitch walked over to them. "Jacob," she asked calmly, "might I talk with you for a minute?"
There was a moment of silence before Jacob said, "It's probably nothing serious. Go on ahead, I'll catch up with you guys." He turned around and walked away with Professor Goodwitch leading the way.
A collective sense of dread overtook them all. Not a single smile remained amongst them as he walked off to the opposite exit and leaned into the doorframe with the Professor standing opposite to him.
"I'm sure he's fine," Blake said distantly, "We probably aren't doing him any favors waiting around nervously for him." With that said, she began to follow the rest of the student body as the exodus en masse continued.
Yang and Weiss followed after her, with Ren and Nora hesitantly following behind them. Now, there were only Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby waiting in the room. All the while, Jacob was fixated on his conversation with Professor Goodwitch.
"What do you think's going on?" Jaune asked.
"Professor Goodwitch is probably saying he's been doing a good job with his studies with... y'know, everything that's happened," Ruby said nervously.
Pyrrha only continued to stare off at him with a worried look. She had been practically attached to him for the first few days after everything went down, though the reasoning of it simply being because he was their friend wasn't exactly holding water. Her worry seemed a bit more rooted in something, though what was probably not for Jaune to pry into; Whatever it was, it was way too personal to ask about at this stage in their partnership.
"Hey," Jaune said as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "He'll be alright. Come on, we're not doing him any favors by waiting around worrying."
After a second, she sighed and turned to smile at him. "Right, let's catch up with the others."
And as they left, Jaune could swear on his grandma's grave that Jacob took a confused double take.
"I'm sorry Glynda, but while I think I heard you right, I wanna double check here; You want me to go through what?"
"Initiation," she replied to the incredulous man, "to officially make you a member of our organization."
"But... Why now? I would expect something like this at a later date, y'know, once I've proven myself to the cause rightly."
Professor Goodwitch glanced around as the student body filed out of the auditorium. "Ozpin wouldn't want me telling you this but... we've been receiving word from our contacts out in the field. She's on the move, and we're looking to all avenues for people we can trust."
Qrow's message about Salem, Jacob thought to himself as he studied the professor vehemently. QUEEN HAS PAWNS.
"So, what does that have to do with me officially becoming part of your organization?"
Her eyes narrowed in frustration. "A lot, actually. It means that Ozpin trusts you enough to let you become part of our upper echelon. "
Jacob stared at her for a long time, studying her for any signs that this was a ruse. He found none. They see me as trustworthy enough to let into the Inner Circle, he thought to himself.
Another angle to save Pyrrha and Penny by way of.
Jacob felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Okay then, so... what do I have to do for this initiation?"
"Nothing seriously concerning, all things considered. A simple recitement and a formal anointing," she answered as lowly as she could probably to avoid bringing undue attention to them.
"...Wait, that's it?"
"Yes," she replied.
Jacob felt a sense of disappointment in the back of his mind. "I was half-expecting some kind of blood oath or something," he said.
"Well," she continued, crossing her arms, "back when I was first initiated we actually did do a blood oath, but Ozpin decided that it was too antiquated for modern times."
"That's a shame," he replied to Glynda, "I mean it is kinda archaic—and a bit unsanitary sure—but it's kind of a noble gesture at least in my opinion."
"Regardless, Ozpin wanted to ask if you would be up to the initiation tonight," she asked.
"Uhm... besides my training with Jaune and Pyrrha, I have nothing else on my plate, so sure."
"When should you be done with that?"
"Uh, we spend about 1 hour, starting at 8:00, so 9:00. It'll be 9:20 though if you want me to not stink to high heaven through the whole ordeal."
Glynda visibly relaxed after he confirmed a time. "I'll let Ozpin know. See you tonight, then."
In the back of his mind, Jacob thought, Adhering to a set schedule to the letter. She and my mother would get along amazingly.
At the same time, at the forefront of his mind, Jacob felt a rare joke coming on. "It's a date then," he said with a smile.
Glynda had to take a double-take after she heard that. For a second, he worried that she had taken offense to the remark, and God only knows the true damage she could inflict with that riding crop of hers. However his fears were quickly dashed when Glynda let out an amused giggle.
Glynda Goodwitch was giggling. OOC moment ahoy, his mind warned sarcastically, man the torpedo bays.
"Funny," Professor Goodwitch replied after finishing with her giggling, "But I'm afraid I'm not one for dating someone 14 years my junior."
That raised Jacob's eyebrows. "Get out," he said with a chuckle, "No way you're that old. You do not look 34!"
She rolled her eyes. "I hear that a lot more than I really should," she responded.
"No, seriously," he replied back, "I thought you were like at the most 27 or so."
"Oh stop," she said with a laugh. "I get too many love letters from students as it is!"
The two shared a laugh for a few seconds, the tension of the situation disappearing into the aether. "Well in that case, I should probably get out of your hair before... y'know, teenage gossip."
"Of course," she replied as she came down from her laughter. "We'll be waiting for you outside the Tower when you're ready."
"Right," he said as he began to leave the auditorium, only to turn around halfway to the door and shut back to her, "I'll see you then!"
Jacob was feeling on top of the world; everything was going according to keikaku. His training was coming along at an accelerated rate thanks to Pyrrha, he was getting in deeper and deeper with Ozpin and the Ozluminati, and for the first time in his life he had a social circle that was more than 7 people.
He slowed down as he really thought harder about that; he was friends with RWBY and JNPR. 6 months ago he would have been laughing at the mere insanity of such an idea of being friends with characters that were supposed to be fictional, and yet here he was, in their ranks essentially.
A tiny fragment of him gleamed the idea that the timeline his actions were forming was some other reality's version of RWBY... or at least a reboot. Granted that notion was immediately thrown on its head in a suplex before being tossed off of London Bridge for being too egotistical for Jacob's taste.
About that time he rounded the corner to the left and came face to face with the wry and mischievous smile of Yang Xiao Long. She was leaning to her left side off the wall of the building, holding her down-tilted head in her hand.
Jacob felt his stomach drop out. Oh God Yang, please don't tell me you heard all that.
"Well well well," she said, leaving her perch and beginning to circle him like a hawk. "I was wondering what that was all about. Now I know what it is, you dirty little sneak."
Her grin only widened as Jacob's stomach and heart mashed together in a horrified instant of terror. He was caught, he was sure of it; the entire plan fallen to ruin because Yang Xiao Long actually decided to investigate something for a change.
"You're trying to get to Ms. Goodwitch's heart, you dirty little MILF-chaser!"
Jacob couldn't suppress the confusion that bubbled up. "Huh?"
"Don't play dumb with me, you're hot for cougars, aren't you?"
Jacob's mind was practically running circles trying to wrap his head around what the situation had suddenly boiled down to. "What, no, no! I mean she's attractive, but God Above no! That's like 3 different breeds of no wrapped up into one."
She shook her head as she said, "Then what was all the laughing and asking-about-her age all about? Not to mention, 'It's a date then'? I mean, I only started hearing everything at about that point, but still..."
"Okay first thing," he began, "that was because of the second part because she's a solid decade my senior. And the second thing is that comment was made in jest."
"Yeah, yeah, I don't believe it," she replied with a dismissive wave. Even with his denials she held the upper hand in the moment, though now he was pretty certain he was spared from having spilled the secret.
Even then, knowing Yang this would be a source of teasing for weeks or probably months to come.
About that time an idea struck him; She was right in one aspect.
"Well, I do suppose I have a thing for blonde bombshells."
Yang's smile dropped in surprise. "O-oh, really?" She tried to conjure a wry smile, but the facade was wavering. Jacob had just started assuming control of the situation, and Yang was not liking it.
Jacob shrugged as he started pacing with his hands behind his back, saying to her, "Yeah; platinum blondes, dirty blondes, golden blondes, Blonde has been #1 for hair color for me." He looked at her with an arched eyebrow and his own smile. For a brief second, part of him was liking having control of a conversation. "Although," he continued, "hair color is just one piece to the puzzle."
Without warning though, control was suddenly wrestled from Jacob's grasp as Yang shot him a cheeky grin. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, only in your wet dreams, Blue-Boy."
That surprised Jacob. He turned to look at her to speak and he couldn't help but notice a faint pink tinge was lining the bridge of her nose. "Again, first of all," Jacob began with a chuckle, "You're the lewd-minded one here, Yang Xiao-Long if you're implying something like that. And second of all, I haven't even kissed a girl romantically before, so I'm probably the closest guy here to being labeled the romantic bottom-of-the-barrel; In other words, you could do a lot better than me."
It was her turn to be surprised. "Wait, what?! You've never kissed a girl?" She was barely suppressing a laugh now.
Jacob rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yes," he said in annoyance, "I've never gotten to first base. The closest I got was in freshman year at high school with a girl I went to Homecoming with, and at the last second when I got her back to her house I chickened out and kissed her on the cheek instead."
At that comment Yang burst out into a howling laugh. Jacob simply stood there to let her get the laughter out of her system, arching an eyebrow at her.
After a minute of her laughing, with her doubled over in so much laughter, he dryly asked, "Did you get it out of your system?"
"Ah-hah-mostly, I ju-ha-ha-st... Oh God, I can't take that seriously." She righted herself as her fit came to an end. He studied her and in turn she stared at him for a few seconds, the smile from the laughing fit still echoing across her visage.
Jaco couldn't help but return the smile."Yeah, I guess that is pretty pathetic. I mean I've always wanted to—then again what guy hasn't—but I have been turned down on relationships, let alone anything near first base for as long as I can remember."
Yang looked away for a second, the metaphorical gears turning away in her head. After a second, a faint blush came back to her face as she lit up with an idea.
"Alright then" she said to him, "kiss me."
Jacob felt the blood in his face pool into his core for the second time in the last 15 minutes as his stomach decided to replicate a Six Flags roller coaster. "What?"
"You heard me, give me a kiss; knock me off my feet, make me swoon in ecstasy~," she added with a comically melodramatic tone that was clearly poking fun at the old-fashioned romance ideals.
Meanwhile, part of Jacob's mind was screaming, She's 17 years old stupid, Chris Hansen would like a word with you in the other room!
"Well, I—I mean... are you sure about this?" He asked.
"Pfft, No big deal," she said with a dismissive wave, "it's just a kiss."
Jacob was torn at the seams: On the one hand, she was 17 years old, and by Earth standards—more or less American standards but who really cared—that made her a minor. Granted, he wasn't exactly up to speed on the law of Remnant since, y'know, Monty was more focused on telling a compelling story and leaving the world-building to auxiliary videos and what not, but still...
On the other hand, it was Yang Xiao Long. For all he knew, saying no to an offer of a kiss could mean he gets his ass kicked. And besides, he wasn't lying when he said he had an affinity for blondes.
After a long second of bracing himself, he gave his answer. "Okay, let's do it."
Yang grew a cocky smile in response; she had won the battle of wills. "Pucker up."
Jacob hesitantly walked closer, his stomach knotting endlessly. "I, uh... I hope you don't mind the facial hair."
"Can't say I've ever kissed a guy with facial hair," she replied, "so I'm not gonna judge until I've tried it."
He steeled himself for what was to come; this go around he had to look slightly up at the girl he was talking to, since Yang was standing tall at 5'8". While he wasn't the least bit experienced in kissing, he did know you generally don't pucker up, you don't put a lot of force into the kiss, and you supposedly... "go with it," whatever that entailed. His hand reached for hers and gently took it; he noticed as his fingers brushed hers that there was the odd callous here and there not unlike his own, though hers were probably from working on Bumblebee in her spare time or from the constant training instead of his constant abuse of his hands from model-making.
The two leaned in close, practically feeling each other's breath. Jacob's mind was vehemently apologizing to both Monty and Barbara Dunkelman for what he and Yang were about to do; Granted, it wasn't really anything bad, but it was for all intents and purposes very awkward from a "meta" perspective.
He went in for the kiss, heart pounding, stomach churning, brow sweating...And about that time out of the corner of his left eye he spotted Nora rounding the corner.
"Hey guys," she sang as she turned to look at them, "What's taking you so—oh! Oh my God, look at you two!~"
Jacob and Yang were barely an inch from locking lips, frozen in surprise and partial horror. Both quickly backed out with Jacob vehemently stammering, "It-it wasn't exactly what it looked like, Nora, Yang and I had been just talking and—"
"—It's a long story and let's just put it at that, Nora," Yang cut him off with an embarrassed huff and a tousle of her lion's mane. "Come on, let's go get lunch."
Nora reacted without a second thought, turning about and beginning to walk away.
In that split second, Yang glanced back to Jacob, a smile planted on her face.
In a second's notice, she had reached in close, and locked lips with him.
Jacob felt the biggest jolt that he had ever felt in his life thunder up his spine, leaving goosebumps up his back and down his arms in its wake; Whether it was from surprise or bliss his mind wasn't able to even guess. His stomach was mush at this point to such a degree that he doubted he could eat for the rest of today. His heart was screaming, adrenaline roaring through his veins like a dragon chasing a knight. His breath was hitched beyond what he thought possible for himself. He felt shock and surprise at the forefront of his mind, but the back of his mind was buzzing with an insane level of euphoria. He felt her lips, soft and warm on his own. It wasn't even like a peck, their lips had locked just shy of a French kiss; Then again, Yang was the kind of girl to go all in on everything, including something like a kiss. Jacob's mind reeled like he had been struck by a sucker punch, and yet it felt like he was standing on a Goddamned cloud.
And just like that she ended the kiss, pulling away gently but quickly, like a wisp of wind unbefitting of a roiling tempest like her. To his mind what felt like a solid minute had barely lasted a mere 7 seconds.
Jacob's mind was the closest it could get to the idea of "short-circuited" as he processed everything that he had just felt. Yang on the other hand, gave him a coy smile and said, "Not bad at all... for your first time around." She turned to follow Nora, leaving him outside of the auditorium in a stupor.
Jacob meanwhile remained in general shock of what had just happened.
Yang Xiao Long had just stolen a kiss from him.
His first kiss on the lips was from a person that was supposed to be fictional.
And the only word that could describe it was... electric.
A smile erupted across his face without any sense of control as his mind was only able to think one thing.
Eat it, weeaboos.
Hours later though, that newly-built confidence had already begun to be tested.
9:25, I'm definitely late, Jacob thought to himself as he quickly walked to the base of Beacon hair was still wet from the Marine Corps shower he had to take to make certain he was still on time, but sadly that still didn't end up playing in his favor.
Training with Pyrrha and Jaune had gone on fine as usual, with tonight being more focused on blocking with the sword. It was a bit daunting considering that Pyrrha got carried away during the spar and became a whirling dervish of blood red hair and bronze-gold armor that nearly knocked him off the building.
Despite the near-death experience Pyrrha's string of apologies was so adorable Jacob was more than quick to forgive her.
As he walked up closer, he spotted Ozpin drinking from his mug as usual, though this late at night it was no doubt hot cocoa. Standing beside him was Glynda, prim and proper as ever. In her hand was a small, crystal-blue vial with some clear liquid inside. Whatever it was Jacob had a bad feeling about it even from 40 yards out.
"Mr. Muller," Ozpin shouted to Jacob, "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I trust it was not too inconvenient to come here?"
"Hardly sir, if anything I should be the one apologizing for being late," Jacob replied.
"Indeed. Perhaps your training sessions with Mr. Arc and Ms. Nikos may be safer if you were to ask us to use the auditorium instead."
Jacob took a second to register what Oz had said. "Oh uh, you saw that?"
Ozpin gave him a smug grin and a raised brow. "Ever since you three first started those after-night sessions I've had the privilege to observe them via the security cameras. It's been interesting to watch you I may add; You in particular seem very attached to Ms. Nikos."
"Well... what can I say, she's got a magnetic personality," Jacob joked.
Ozpin's face lit up with a smile. "She does seem your type, more so than Ms. Xiao Long if I may say so myself."
Jacob felt the blood in his face drop down. "Oh, oh no! I mean, Pyrrha's a beautiful and sweet lady, but we're really friends at the moment and I'm pretty sure she's got her eye on Jaune. Besides, I can't say that she and I are compatible persay." To Jacob, the very notion of impeding on Arkos let alone dating Pyrrha felt more than just unusual. Being what basically amounted to a die-hard Arkos fan, the idea was... kinda... well, heretical to use a 40k term.
"You never know until you've tried," Ozpin said in earnest. "Although you and Ms. Xiao Long do have a polarized chemistry if I may say so."
"Sure, I guess," Jacob said with an agreeing shrug. "For as little as we've really talked it as been pretty entertaining each time." Jacob's distant smile as he thought about their entendre-offs was suddenly cut short. "Wait a minute, are you playing matchmaker with your students!?"
Ozpin chuckled as the group walked to the elevator waiting inside. "Well, to some extent I suppose I have with your group mostly; For all the time I have spent training future Huntsmen and Huntresses, never have I seen a group like yours become so close-knit, with you sitting somewhere in the thick of it all; Romances are bound to bloom soon enough."
"Well that's fine and lovely," Jacob said with a sigh, "but playing matchmaker with me isn't that easy since every member of RWBY and JNPR are under the legal age of adulthood; even beginning to date would be a one-way ticket to the Slammer."
Ozpin and Glynda both eyed him with curiosity. After a second, realization lit up Ozpin's eyes. "Oh, I presume that is your people's law on dating?"
Jacob felt a sense of incredulity grow in his mind; he knew exactly where this was going. "Don't tell me... it's significantly different for Huntsmen?"
"Students are considered legal adults once they join a Huntsman Academy, all privileges and such taken into consideration; If they are old enough to die in combat protecting the Kingdoms, they are old enough to understand the repercussions of a one-night stand."
Jacob's hand desperately wanted to impact his face in absolute exasperation.
"Another case of culture clash I presume?" Ozpin asked.
"No kidding. Back home the age of adulthood is officially 18, and dating between two people on opposite sides of that marker ain't just tough, from a legal perspective it can land you in the slammer. Granted, only if you actually do... y'know... go all the way, but it still isn't a good idea," Jacob finished with an embarrassed neck scratch.
The two professors stole a look of surprise at one another. "My my," Ozpin began, "sounds like your town tends to be on the conservative side I presume?"
Jacob hesitated; he hated talking politics before on Earth and even here he wasn't all that comfortable. "Really, it's actually more of the opposite as of late; radical liberalism is all the rage right now amongst most my age, though I myself am actually a conservative outlier for all intents and purposes."
"Really," Glynda asked as they began to walk into the circular lobby and then onwards to the open doors of the elevator. "You do strike me as a bit more along those lines I suppose..."
Jacob raised a hand up and began counting off some of his personal opinions to them: "Homosexuality's okay with me so long as you don't go making public displays out of it, Patriotism is fine but nationalism is a no-go, free market enterprise with minimal federal input makes for the best economic system, there are only two genders despite what some nutters say—I won't get into those details—and they are based on biology, Aborting a fetus is the murder of a child and therefore one of the most heinous acts imaginable..." he stopped to take a breath before continuing, "and if you truly want peace in your time you always look for a compromise but you should never be afraid to pull the gun and let slip your hounds of war."
Somewhere back home Jacob imagined a rabid Tumblrite losing their mind in a frothing sea of angst and rage. He could barely suppress the smile from that image.
Both stared at him for a long hard minute before Ozpin began chuckling in humor. "My word, I didn't realize you were that opinionated."
"I don't speak my mind unless someone directly asks me of the subject, from which I will defend my beliefs but in the same instance I do my best to keep an open ear should I be proven wrong. Granted, I don't always know when I have been, but it's better to be open to such things."
Ozpin continued to chuckling; clearly Jacob had tickled some sort of funny bone. Glynda however looked at him in a reassessing eye, as if she were trying to find something hiding within; Jacob wasn't unaware of the comparison she was probably making at the moment.
"I take it I'm reminding you of General James Ironwood? I heard tell that he's of generally similar mindsets on things," Jacob said with concealed sarcastic intent; Ironwood seemed at times the only one with an actual head on his shoulders amongst the older denizens of the world of RWBY.
"Admittedly yes," she began gently, "but unlike him you've never seemed as... cold as James is."
"Well, when James arrives in a week's time, I'm sure he'll be glad to meet you," Ozpin said. "But time is wasting. Come, your initiation awaits."
They stepped into the elevator and immediately the door closed behind them. "So," Jacob asked, "is the initiation done in your office or... downstairs or something?"
Ozpin punched in the code and the lift lurched downwards towards the basement and Amber's stasis pod.
Jacob felt a twinge of guilt. He had meant to visit Amber earlier that week, but with the... event at the docks he had completely forgotten about visiting her.
Not that it will matter long-term, he thought dejectedly.
"So Mr. Muller," Ozpin continued as the elevator descended, "You are aware of the legend of the Four Maidens, and how it is for the most part true... but tell me, what about the legend of The Two Brothers?
Jacob felt his stomach turn on itself. Oh shit, he thought, how did I forget about the damned brother-gods?
On the mental battlefield his Christian roots defensively dug in as he answered Ozpin. "The legend of the Two Brother-Gods? You can't be seriously saying that's the real deal."
Ozpin stared back at him with an apologetic look; Jacob had to wonder how many minds he had shattered with that revelation. But considering that Jacob was here instead of on Earth, Jacob wouldn't hold his breath on it being proven that his faith was wrong.
The grueling tests of faith just keep coming, Jacob thought to himself.
"I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you Jacob," Ozpin said with a somber tone, "but there is some truth to that legend as well."
"So Grimm and Humanity are the byproducts of the two brothers... How delightfully poetic. What they started we must end..."
The elevator dinged as they reached the bottom level. Out they stepped into the emerald green hallway, the light at the end dim but for the faint glow from Amber's stasis tube.
"Our organization was founded in secrecy with the intent to act from the shadows. We would spare the people the true horrors awaiting in the big wide world, though Grimm would be impossible to hide."
"You would deal with Salem and her lot," Jacob assessed.
Ozpin nodded, "Yes, and all those who would seek the Maidens' powers for their own gains rather than the benefit of the world. At first our order consisted of gallant knights that protected the Maidens, but as time went on we realized secrecy and admittedly clandestine tactics would be the only way to keep them safe."
Upon hearing of that, Jacob was faintly reminded of the Knights-Errant and their successor forces, the Grey Knights and the—
"Jacob, my boy!"
Jacob's head snapped around as he heard his name be called from the direction of the elevator. Vulkan was getting off the elevator, a big and cheerful smile that lit up the dim green room on his face.
"Hey, Vulkan! What are you doing here?" Jacob asked.
"I came to watch your initiation," replied the smithy as he walked up. "I heard about what happened at the docks... I'm sorry that happened to you."
Jacob felt the levity in his heart drop like a rock. Every so often the boy—Ferris'—terrified face would cross his mind's eye, leaving him to be struck with a momentary slab of self doubt. But Pyrrha would respond to this by taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Usually her smiling face was enough to lull the heartache back into the abyss.
How ironic that the girl he promised to save was in fact now saving him. Funny little world we live in, isn't it.
"RWBY and JNPR have been helping me come to terms with it," Jacob said as he fought back the urge to get emotional, "But I hope his parents and his friends will come to terms with it too. I had originally hoped to apologize to them but they are adamant about keeping away from me at the moment."
Vulkan placed a hand on his shoulder; in the back of Jacob's mind he noticed it felt like cold steel for some reason. "They will come to peace in time," Vulkan said in a soft rumble, "but in the meantime it would do you good to let your friends help you let go of it. Now, as for tonight, I must apologize for being a little late. I thought I would dress in my Sunday best for a change."
It was at the moment that Vulkan said it that Jacob noticed he was adorned in armor. Not knightly armor like what you would expect in a castle, grey and drab and to all the world a human-sized tin can to roast in or get knocked on your back like a turtle.
His armor was... for lack of a better phrase, very ornate and Remnantine version of Space Marine Power Armor.
Salamander green stood out amidst the dim light, bright and cheerful in contrast to the secretive and ominous atmosphere of the room. Around the green parts of the armor were intricately-painted facsimiles of dragon scales that would probably seem realistic at a distance but at this far away were clearly painted on, albeit with incredible detail. Swirling baroque patterns adorned his chestpiece in various tones of bronze and gold, looking like roiling waves against a background of jungle green. On his back was clearly a cape of some form of lizard hide, the brown scales sewn into a black cape that tapered into a wavy pattern of red and bright yellow on the end of the cape.
In the back of Jacob's mind, the warning sirens were telling him that this couldn't just be a facsimile of the Forgefather, but he suppressed it as he marveled over the armor. "Wow," was all he could muster from his voice.
Vulkan laughed heartily. "I take it you like the armor?"
"It's amazing," Jacob said like a small boy seeing something for the first time, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. He noticed that unlike on true Space Marine Armor there was no backpack that was usually used to hold the suit's power supply. Alongside that, the armor only added a few extra inches on him, putting Vulkan at just under 7 feet tall; supposedly Space Marines stood betwen 7 and 8 feet tall, with Salamanders being on the larger side thanks in no small part to the overall gigantism of their Primarch being passed down to them.
"I can imagine it's pretty cumbersome," Jacob tested in hesitance.
"Not at all, actually. The armor is actually light as a feather, but hard like a Taijitu's scales. Here," he said as he took off his gauntlet, "try it."
He plopped the massive gauntlet in Jacob's hands. Jacob immediately braced for something along the lines of 10-20 pounds to come crashing down into his hand... only to be surprised as it barely even weighed 5 pounds in his hands.
"Wow," Jacob said with a chuckle, "What is this stuff?"
"Mithril," Vulkan replied, "Pre-War metal that was somewhat hard to come by. I was gifted it by the Council of Vale after I helped evacuate Mountain Glenn in the aftermath of..." He didn't need to finish that; Jacob remembered that the settlement of Mountain Glenn was overrun by Grimm prior to the events of the show. It was in the underground caverns that doubled as a subway system that many of the citizens met their demise when Vale decided to seal off the tunnels... trapping them in with hordes of Grimm. Vulkan had helped save lives during that fiasco, but not everyone got out alive.
Jacob felt his resolve grow in his mind; even if he wouldn't save many lives during the Battle of Beacon... he would make certain those he did want to save would be saved, or he'd die trying to save them.
But just then Jacob's mind suddenly did a double take. Wait, wait, did he just say mithril!? As in the stuff the dwarves mine in Lord of the Rings?!
"Enough, Vulkan" said Ozpin, "I don't think we want to ruin this special occasion. That was long ago, but now is the time to celebrate. After all, Mr. Muller is being welcomed into the Inner Circle."
Vulkan shook his head and seemed to banish the old thoughts back into oblivion. The smile came back, albeit weaker than when he first arrived. "You're right," he said "I still saved many lives, many of them still close friends of mine. And each of those lives we save can mean all the difference in the world, whether it be one life or many."
Jacob couldn't help but conjure a smile of his own. "Right... so Oz," he said after a second of silence, "shall we get started?"
"Right. Follow me please." The continued walking down the long corridor, but suddenly hung a sharp left halfway down. What Jacob had previously thought was a short branching corridor and a bare wall was revealed to be a door hidden in the wall, revealing the tiniest bit of warm candlelight bleeding through the tiny crevice between the doors. Ozpin went in first, opening the door fully. Jacob stepped in and was met with a room that wouldn't look out of place in a fantasy game.
It was a sizeable and oblong room, about 20 feet tall, 20 feet wide and about 30 feet from where Jacob stood in the door to the back wall. A massive ornate candelabra hung overhead, faint light from the candles casting the room in dim light and faint shadows. The room was painted a pale tan color, accented with white Roman columns and a deep maroon stone floor. Their shoes clacked against the stone and echoed up into the ceiling, every step sounding like a falling stone coming down the side of a mountain.
"Jacob, if you would, please stand in the center of that circle there," Ozpin said as he pointed with his cane.
Elaborate markings that looked like something out of an alchemist's book lined the circle, creating an intricate symbol that from where Jacob was standing didn't look like anything. 20 equal segments stood out along the edge of the circle, though all but two were blanked out.
When Jacob turned to look at Ozpin, Ozpin had taken to standing directly opposite of the doors, staring back at him with a blank expression though his eyes bored into Jacob's like drills. Behind Ozpin Jacob spotted a golden sigil—A massive stylized "I"— and a statue of a hooded man.
Illuminati much, Jacob thought to himself.
"Take a knee, bow your head and place your right hand over your heart." Jacob did exactly as Ozpin directed.
Ozpin walked up close to him, taking his cane and putting it to Jacob's shoulder as if he were being knighted.
"Recite these words and heed their meaning: 'I, Jacob Muller...'"
"I, Jacob Muller..."
"'Swear to uphold the protection of the Four Maidens and their secret...'"
Jacob repeated back everything verbatim as Ozpin said them first:
"'To honor their sacrifice with my own... to protect them at all costs... to carry their secret with me to my grave and the graves of those who will follow after me... and should I fail in my task... will risk life and limb... risk all I hold dear...'"
Jacob hesitated on that one. "...Risk all that I hold dear..."
"'To save our world...'"
"To save our world..."
"'From those who would abuse their power.'"
"From those who would abuse their power."
With that, Ozpin tapped his cane on Jacob's left shoulder and then his right before backing up out of the circle. Jacob rose to his feet and looked around at the rest of the group. Glynda was smiling kindly and yet with a visible tinge of sorrow; She's sorry that I'm taking on a task like this.
His vision turned to Vulkan was in turn greeted by a pondering look. Jacob could see the wheels turning in the smithy's mind as he stared at Jacob.
About that time Jacob noticed that the circle underneath was glowing. It was glowing the same color as his Aura, perhaps a might bit darker to an almost lapis-blue color. The center of the space glowed brightly, though the tiles along the edge remained dim and lifeless.
Out of the corner of his eye, he just make out that Vulkan's eyes were as wide as saucepans.
"Well Jacob," Ozpin said as he stood there directly in front of the statue, "That makes it official."
"...I'm in?"
"Yes. As of now you are the newest member of our order; You are the newest heir to Malcador's task."
Jacob felt his thoughts come to a screeching halt. "Malcador?" he asked.
"Yes, our order's founder." Ozpin sidestepped as he allowed Jacob a full minute to gaze upon the statue that was sitting behind him.
Hooded man, old feature, a look carved into the effigy itself that spoke of years of untapped knowledge.
Jacob's rationale screamed that it couldn't be the same man that walked beside Warhammer 40,000's Emperor.
It couldn't be Malcador The Sigilite... could it?
Suddenly, Vulkan's existence here as well as that Gabe fellow had more harrowing implications than it initially had.
"Welcome to the Inquisition, Jacob Muller."
If there is a list of universal constants shared across all realities, one of the most crucial rules can be summed up as this: Crime is always there, no matter what reality you hail from.
This rule was no different for the Kingdoms of Remnant. Dust-runner mafias from Atlas, drug-smugglers out of Mistral, street gangs in Vacuo, and of course the Vale crime bosses. While the normal people of Vale lived out their daily lives, spared the cruel and abject horrors of the Grimm armies what laid at their front doorstep by the firm by kind gaze of the Huntsmen and Huntresses that have stood vigilant over the last eighty-plus years, deep below in the belly of the beast...
That was where the real monsters came out to play.
His gloved fist slammed into the steel desk laid out before him. "Damn animals! Can't even run a Dust raid without fucking up in some way."
The tension building in his skull was suddenly halted as a pair of small, delicate hands began to massage his shoulders, the thumbs digging into his shoulder blades and rubbing with the grace of an angel: his angel in all reality, she was the only one who knew that was the one spot that was generally at fault for his headaches for whatever reason. Like hell he was gonna get caught because he had to go to a damn doctor.
"Thank you Neo. Oh yeah, that's hitting the right spot."
Inside the makeshift HQ-tent that he was now sitting in, a string of leads and plans were strewn about with reckless abandon across the table-tacked map of the city of Vale sitting in the center of the room. Shipment dates, coordinates, dropoff points and hideouts were charted and strewn across the table as a standalone light fixture glowered menacingly down onto it with a sickly yellow light. Outside the tent's flaps, a dozen or so of his own lackeys and somewhere in the nature of 30 White Fang bustled across his field of vision, loading crates and unpackaging weapons from within the massive, dark and dank warehouse they had set up in. Outside, what morning light was visible peeked in through tiny windows and the occasional pockmark in the wall from obvious signs of previous gunfights and raids.
Roman Torchwick suppressed the urge to massage his temples as well. Those idiot White Fang couldn't even manage a few kids during that raid a couple nights ago, how was he supposed to carry out his "mission"?
Mission, he thought with spite, heh! I'm no common, brain-dead soldier; I'm Roman Torchwick, kingpin of Vale's underground! I rule the roost and only answer to those I want to listen to.
Although, considering the damage he had seen his benefactor perform, he was glad that he was on her good side.
He looked back behind him at his partner in crime; at 4'10" in heels, she was as physically intimidating as a butterfly. But it wasn't her tiny stature that had racked up a solid body count in their 3 years of partnership; rather it was her cold-hearted ruthlessness and love of poking holes in people with her parasol-sword that set to that task.
Heterochromatic eyes blinked as they made contact with his own, changing from pink in the left eye and brown in the right to outright white in the left and pink in the right. He never really knew how she was able to change her iris color like that, but part of him honestly didn't want to know.
"I know, I know," he said dejectedly, "but these idiots couldn't plan their way out of a paper bag. Why Ms. Firestarter decided to have us shore up with these animals is beyond me; if I were her I'd actually keep it on the down low and just have our crew running around for the job."
Neo let a small pout cross her face. That would be no fun, it said to him, You know I love a little mayhem.
"A little mayhem sets the whole city on edge; cops are stepping up their game and—Oh yeah, a little lower," he interrupted himself as her massage reached the inside corners of his shoulders, "Anyway, and now our boys can't even get close to any Dust shops or shipments. How are we supposed to keep our end of the deal if we can't get the good, quality stuff?"
"My, my, an honorable thief. I thought the breed had died out an age ago."
Neo and Roman were whipped around and on their feet in seconds, braced for a fight out of near-instinctive suspicion that they were caught. Parasol and cane-cannon were raised and prepared to let slip the dogs of war.
They were met by a glowing yellow eye, hiding in the shadows. A hand raised up with its palm open and pointed up, only for the hand to be suddenly consumed in gold and red flames.
"Oh, it's you," Roman sighed, "Didn't expect you to show up like that. About blew your head off." He lowered Melodic Cudgel before nodding to Neo to put her sword down.
Out of the shadows she walked, an alluring sway to her step that probably drew the eye of every man within a city block; It probably helped she was sporting curves that could make any Atlesian runway model green with envy, and with that sway it was far more evident than it needed to be. She wore a body-hugging minidress with bare shoulders, her arms covered with ornate red and gold sleeves. She walked along in of all things glass black pumps with a chain of black diamonds along her ankle.
Focusing on her face was even more distracting. Gold-amber eyes stared into his soul, accented by dark-violet eyeliner, giving her an exotic and mysterious look that screamed "come hither". She wore her ashen black hair long and off to her left side, reaching around and ending just beside her breast.
If there was one number that was really too hot for anyone to handle, it was definitely Cinder Fall.
"Roman," she began, "what happened at the docks the other night?"
Roman winced. "Goddammit, your White Fang buddies are in serious need of a little thing called subtlety. And how are you not in the loop, it's been all over the news the last week."
She ignored his biting comment. "There weren't supposed to be any loose ends, Roman, and considering what happened I have to expect that there was a loose end somewhere." The flame in her hand grew bigger.
Neo began reaching for her parasol before Roman shook his head against the idea. He then turned to Cinder and said, "No one should have known about the raid at the docks, all info was under lock and key. The damn kids were simply in the right place at the wrong time."
The flame dimmed. Roman felt the tense pit in his stomach loosen its grip.
"And to top it off," Torchwick muttered, "the White Fang are now on edge because of what happened to that Ferris kid."
"I don't care about some boy dying, Roman, I care about results." You only made off with 3 crates worth when you were supposed to have over 15 crates before the night was out." Walking over beside the table, Cinder gracefully traced a line with her index finger across the map of Vale, ending at Beacon Academy before she sat down on a fold-up chair, crossing her legs with a deceptive daintiness and clasping her hands together into a balled fist: a prim and proper lady, hiding a snake-like cunning beneath a beautiful visage.
"Well," he continued snidely, "As far as I'm concerned, 3 shipping crates worth of Dust is still 3 shipping crates worth of Dust. And considering how these animals are acting now, I'm glad we were at least able to get that."
The two sat in tense silence for a minute before Cinder hummed in contemplation. "This Huntsman," she began to ask, "You said that you fought him directly. What can you tell me about him?"
Roman began to wrack his brain as he remembered back to that night. "About 5'5", heavier build, broad shoulders, brown hair, brown eyes, sported a beard-stache—"
"What about his method of fighting?"
"Roman chuckled as the thought back. "Rough-and tumble in melee, but he's smart; stuck to the shadows mostly, used a couple of improvised Dust bombs to cover his escapes. But in melee... he's clearly not cream of the crop. Swung wild and strong, but the strikes he did land I felt in my fucking teeth. I think it's telling that he's on the older end of the student body, but I'm pretty certain he's a freshman."
"An older student starting up? Now that is intriguing," Cinder hummed as she tented her fingers.
"Probably about 19 or 20," Roman suggested, "not much older than the rest. Odd thing is from what I was getting out of my duel with him is that he wasn't trained as a Huntsman. Granted, there's a couple students out there who are usually like that—"
"But it is still unusual," she mused. "What are you up to, Ozpin, to let someone so clearly out of his league into your fine academy?"
"All I know is that the way he was fighting, even if he didn't realize it, he was fighting with lethal intent. A couple of those swings he threw at me would have cleaved me like a damn pig in a butcher's shop if I hadn't built Cudgel of sterner stuff than his... chainsaw-sword.
"Chainsaw-sword? My my, he does sound like a brute. More a soldier than a Huntsman."
"But why does that matter?" Roman snidely asked.
"Well Roman, if anything now that I have taken the time to ponder this predicament, this can be put to good use."
Roman and Neo shared a look. "I'm sorry, come again?"
"Look around you, Roman. The White Fang are more riled and on-edge then they have ever been. That boy's death has stirred a fire in many of them, a fire that will end in terror and bloodshed."
It didn't take long for Roman to put two and two together. "You're thinking about using the kid as a martyr," he realized.
"The blood of martyrs is the seed of revolution, Roman. A Faunus boy was killed fighting for a cause he believed in, by a rather vicious Huntsman if what I heard through the grapevine is true; the Fang will be thirsty for revenge even before the time comes for the final phase of our plan."
"Whoa whoa whoa, and just what is this grand plan you've got in mind?" He walked up to her, shooting her a confused eyebrow.
Cinder's right hand left the grip of her other hand and delicately ran her finger up the length of his torso. "All in good time, my dear Torchwick. For now though continue gathering as much Dust as you can. I'll contact you directly once the time has come to continue onwards."
Somewhere behind him, he could feel Neo's piercing, territorial gaze sizing up Cinder.
"In the meantime, however, there are some changes in the plans that need to be overseen." Her grin took a malicious twist. "I have a lead on allies that might prove beneficial to our cause that I need to track down and persuade to join us."
"...Ookay, and who is that?"
"A group of mercenaries with a very... bloody history. Are you familiar with The Eight Pointed Star?"
Roman suppressed the urge to call her insane right there and then; Though most civilians had never heard of it, the mark of the Eight Pointed Star was equal parts ominous and terrifying to those who were of the underbelly of Vale's society. First seen on the outskirts of the various villages dotting southeast Sanus, it quickly made its way to Vale and followed the trails between the kingdoms of Vale and Vacuo for the last 20 years, leaving criminals and innocents alike dead in its wake.
The piles were always in clusters of 8 victims.
It was... their mark.
"Very familiar with it," Roman said through gritted teeth.
"Good. Than you know who should be joining our soiree soon."
"You're nuts if you think those 8 will follow you."
Cinder raised a delicate hand to her chest in mock hurt. "Come now Roman," she cooed, "you know better than anyone else how... persuasive I can be."
"As much as I agree with that, I doubt that Wulfrik guy will follow you willingly, let alone the other 7. That one guy, maybe—Nemesis? Nemestar, whatever his name was—he's been said to have a bigger brain than the rest of them, but I highly doubt you'll get them on your side."
"Oh Roman, have a little faith in me," she said, her voice desperately trying to caress him into a sense of complacency. Unfortunately for her, those kinds of wiles only worked on him when Neo was the one doing it.
"I won't hold my breath," he said with a snark.
Her face twisted into a sly and devious smile again. "Very well," was all she said. And with that, Cinder rose to her feet and began to exit. She only briefly stopped to say, "Oh, and by the way Roman, my associates will be lying low with you for a day or two. Keep an eye on them if you can spare one, they tend to... hunt for mischief as it were." And with that said, she casually sashayed out the front of the tent and disappeared into the warehouse.
Roman groaned as he cupped his head in his hands and fell back into a chair. Beside him, Neo stood watching Cinder leave with a terrifying stink-eye.
"I'll tell you one thing Neo, working with that chick is like getting a mace to the head: painful, dizzying and too damn dangerous. Now, where's my lighter...
Yay, more 40Kharacters (and a Fantasy character because I ran out of ideas for an 8th member that wasn't comedic but was actually kinda threatening).
So yeah, Jacob's gonna start investigating as RWBY starts investigating Roman and the White Fang, and things will get pretty interesting during The Breach later on. But first, FOOD FIGHT!
Reviews, favorites, follows, all of those are welcomed happily and wholeheartedly and I will see you guys... in the next chapter. Buh-bye~!