"Late as usual, writer scum! There's pen-work here needs doing!"
Took me forever to write this mainly because I needed to actually put together a cohesive story with some help, as well as a metric ton of homework poppin' up outta the aether.
Oh yeah, and I still have that damn commission to finish. *plops into pillows and falls asleep*.
Warhammer 40k and all subsidiary characters, objects and concepts are a copyright of Games Workshop.
RWBY is a copyright of Rooster Teeth.
I own nothing but this story.
Chapter 23: A Penny Saved
"War makes strange bedfellows." —Helen Thomas
Some terrified animal in the back of his mind was screaming several different languages worth of profanities at the top of its lungs. Here he was, having just spilled the truth—the whole truth—about who he was, what his intent was and just how absolutely out of his league he probably was to Captain Titus of the Ultramarines and his wife, the Imperial Guard Lieutenant he served with.
And now He had caught Penny sneaking up and listening in on his conversation.
His stomach was roiling, his palms clammy; and that last part wasn't just because he had been sprinting as fast as he could to catch her.
"Hello Jacob," she said with an audible nervousness. "I... did not expect to meet you here—"
Jacob was feeling his own fear peaking; how much had she heard? "Penny," he interrupted in a low, cautious voice, "two things: First, why the effervescent fuck are you here on campus in broad daylight in a bloody hooded cloak? And two... how much did you hear?"
Despite the animation level of Poser, there was a legitimate fear in Penny's eyes. "Well, I, uh... I was here to meet with General Ironwood and I was just heading back from said meeting," she said shakily, the telltale signs that she wanted to dodge the latter question evident in her voice. "He didn't want me to be seen, so I thought I would take note from old movies and don the usual unsuspecting cloak. I take it that it doesn't work on you?"
Jacob had a history of dodging questions when he was younger and even up until recently, so he had a pretty good idea that she was lying; to him, liars were always the best lie detectors.
"Penny," he said, his fear and patience still holding, "First off, that never works in real life. In fact, that makes you even more conspicuous."
Penny stared at him before making an understanding "Ohh..."
"And second thing... you haven't answered my second question."
Penny's eyes widened a bit. "So I haven't," she said, her shoulders tightening in on herself.
Now Jacob was getting well and truly worried. "Penny," he said firmly, "How much did you hear?"
Penny hesitated, her eyes darting all around. Something felt off in comparison to last night; her actions seemed less robotic and more human than before.
"I... I..."
A gear clicked in Jacob's head. He took a deep breath, the fear still in his body but slowly shutting up. "Look, Penny," he said, much calmer than before, "I just want to know how much you heard."
He hesitance continued for a second, her shoulders still bunched up like a coil.
"Almost all of it; I walked into auditory range while you were talking about the... the... 'Imperium of Man' you called it."
Jacob felt the blood in his stomach rush to his shoes.
She had heard everything...
"Oh, this is not good," Jacob muttered under his breath.
"You said that they were from a fictional world," she said with hesitation, as if she was unsure if she really heard that. "And... you said that...our world was fiction to you too. So... you're not really from Remnant."
Jacob inhaled again, long and deep. "No," he said in a defeated tone, "I'm not."
Penny stared at him with an ever-increasing look of curiosity, though she still seemed to be... embarrassed that she had made such a faux-pas as listening in on another person's conversation. Where was the robot girl who didn't give a care about such things?
"I never thought I would meet someone not from Remnant," she said after a second of the two staring at one another awkwardly.
There's the bluntness. He offered her a smile as he replied, "trust me, 8 months ago I would have thought the same thing."
For a second, the tension seemed to fade as she returned her smile. But the smile faded as a thought seemed to cross her mind. "So, that means... you already knew that I'm not a real girl even before we met."
Jacob looked at her and pondered his response. "...Yeah, pretty much," he quickly admitted.
"And yet you didn't tell anyone."
"Well, it was our secret—at least us and Ruby's secret—right?"
Her eyes seem to light up. She offered the smile again. "Yeah. Our secret."
For the second time in less than five minutes, Jacob was feeling a damn-near impossible situation could be turned around. He smiled back, weakly but still in some relief.
A few minutes later they were walking along beneath the archways lining the outside of the main auditorium. Both of them talked in a hushed tone, as if deigning some malefic scheme, though that would have been all wrong; technically it was a benevolent scheme, at least to a couple people. Penny had put the hood of her forest green cloak back over her head, though Jacob had insisted that she now looked like she was about to whip out a gun and start shooting wildly like a skull-wearing maniac with it on; obviously she didn't understand his jabbing comment, but then again Jacob was both fortunate enough and sane enough to not have brought Sword Art Online to Remnant, so she should have counted her blessings.
"So," she began hesitantly, "That video on your Scroll... showed them the future?"
"Well, in theory," he began, "though I can't say for certain; there are already a lot of variables, even without the Imperium and its subjects to consider."
"And Ms. Nikos... she's fated to die?"
Jacob felt a small bout of anger bubble up inside him—not at Penny, but at the very real threat that he held no autonomy over the matter. "Not if I can help it," he said after a second.
Penny stopped in her tracks, her eyes staring off into the abyss as a furrow of worry grew across her brow.
"Hey, Penny," he asked, "you okay?"
"It's... a lot to process I will admit," she said, one dainty hand rising to cradle the side of her head. "Other worlds, lives in danger in the near future—wait! You said Vale would fall under attack! why haven't you told Professor Ozpin about the attack—!"
Jacob clasped a hand over her mouth, stopping her sentence in its tracks. "Whoa, whoa, don't go blurting it out please," he nervously asked. "And to answer your question," he said, "because then if he outright acts against those oncoming plans, "Salem no doubt has backup plans, which means someone else will be in danger; who then will I have sentenced to death by my actions?"
Penny took on a look of deep thought, as if she was running calculations through that mechanical skull of hers. "What do you mean?"
Jacob blew a quick breath out through his nose. "Say, for example, I go to Ozpin and tell him about the attack, he then puts in the necessary precautions to prevent that from happening. Then Salem pulls out another plan that attacks from another angle we weren't able to predict and... say, Ruby is killed, or Pyrrha, or Jaune or... anyone else, really. Indirectly, by my actions they were killed; maybe someone else was the direct killer, but it was my decision that set them on the path to that encounter. That's why I'm trying to adhere to the events that played out in the show, because then I can react accordingly and save as many as I can."
"But you aren't in this... 'canonical timeline'," she noted slowly and robotically, "So by you actually being here the timeline is diverting, right?"
Jacob huffed. "Well, yes and no; You're right that technically the butterfly effect is bound to kick in any time now," he said as he ran a hand through the hair on his head, "but still the core events remain on-schedule, in theory at least. The Dance, the Vytal Festival, so on, so forth, nothing's stopping them from happening... yet, at least."
Penny blinked. "'Butterfly effect'? What is that?"
Jacob sighed. For a spit-second he had hoped that meant Remnant—be it by random chance or by Monty's design—had some vestige of at least basic quantum mechanics, not that he understood a lick of the math that went into the subject. "It's a... theoretical math concept—at least from what I understand—that is mentioned a lot back home. Basically, it's what you said, that a small action will ripple outwards into greater changes as time goes on. But at the same time... part of me is afraid that Doctor Who's "fixed point in time" idea may come to fruition."
"'Doctor Who?'"
Jacob slapped his forehead as he realized he was slipping back into his jargon from Earth. Considering he had only been able to speak of Earth to himself and no one else, it did feel nice in a way, but it was like talking to a tribal in the Amazon about the newest video game release. "It's not important," he finally sighed, "wibbly-wobbly-time stuff. The point is that for all I know my actions... my actions could be meaningless. Now, I refuse to believe that will happen, but it's a lingering threat and I won't pretend it's not there."
Penny seemed to watch him with a mild sense of rapt curiosity. "I... suppose that makes sense," she replied as she held her chin and pondered his meaning. They continued walking, now following the building edge back towards the mess hall.
Jacob stopped in his tracks and leaned back against a column supporting the archways. "Funny thing is," he began, "I was expecting you to have the nonchalant-ness about me being from another world, but Captain Titus and Lieutenant Mira was... surprising to say the least."
Penny stood stiff as a board across from him. "If they are from a star-faring kingdom of their own, it would be logical to assume that this would not be the strangest thing they have heard of."
Jacob shrugged in thought. "Fair point," he said, "but I doubt that anything they in particular have seen could top that. But what about you?"
Penny stared down at her feet. She seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before answering. "Well, many Atlesian scientists that my father has worked with have theorized that there is life outside of Remnat; If the stars in the sky are no different from our sun, who's to say that those stars don't have planets of their own with people of their own?"
Jacob didn't say anything at first before he let out a small chuckle. "Funny how Remnant hasn't even put men into outer space that they would already have a concept of alien life. Back home we laugh at those who believe in aliens just due to how there's not a lick of proof of their existence."
"That's not nice," she replied.
"Maybe not," he said in turn, "but a lot of times they're so far out there you wonder just what they spike their water with every morning."
"And what about Mr. and Mrs. Ultramar? You said they're from outer space too, shouldn't they have encountered aliens?"
Jacob felt a harsh laugh bubble up in his throat only to be caught in his teeth as it tried to escape. "Well, they have," he began, the raucous roar of WAAAAAGH thundering through his mind, "But those aliens they have met... well, let's just say you wouldn't enjoy meeting them."
The two eventually found a bench on the edge of the center courtyard, the both of them sitting down and staring across the way at the statue beckoning students in.
There was silence for a good long minute as Penny seemed to be thinking up a question.
"Jacob... you've seemed very nervous around me, and that's even considering how unaware I am of... you know, social cues... and you said that there were multiple casualties, not just Ms. Nikos."
The sweaty palms were back in full force before Jacob had time to formulate a response.
"Well," he tried to start, "Yang gets hit pretty badly—she survives but—"
"I'm one of those casualties, aren't I?"
The silence was thick enough to stop his sentence in his throat.
"Please tell me."
He felt a rising ache as his mind replayed P. v. P.
"Yes."
Silence again, though he was spared the burning of tears in his eyes and the embarrassment of blubbering as he bored holes into the concrete with his eyes.
"You've been remarkably astute," Jacob mentioned lowly as he continued to stare into the ground. "You know that, right?"
No response.
"Penny... I didn't want to tell anyone purely for that one reason I mentioned earlier. If you want to feel angry with me, I won't hold you back."
"Why would I be angry?"
Jacob looked up at her with a surprised glance.
"So long as my memory core remains intact, I'm not really dead. I presume only my body was hurt; no wounds to my head?"
Jacob let her reaction roll around in his head for a few seconds before the fact that she was a robot clicked again. Man, I am out of it, he thought to himself. "Uh, no, no, it was... an accident fighting Pyrrha during the Vytal Festival Tournament." He hesitated for a second; subtle as she was now, there was no telling what would happen if Penny learned that Cinder and her lackeys were here. "Pyrrha starts seeing things because of some fuckery from some...less-than-savory people and she thinks that you have around 10 times as many blades as you actually have. She activates her Semblance and blasts it to full power and... you get sliced and diced like a cube steak."
Penny seemed to absorb the whole concept slowly and methodically. "Well, it wasn't Ms. Nikos' fault in the first place," she said. "It was whoever caused her to see those things! That wasn't very nice at all!"
There's the Penny we know and love, Jacob thought to himself.
"Is there anything we can do?" Penny asked.
Jacob sighed heavily. "The most we can do for now is be patient and find ways to undermine these people. If you'd like—I can't believe I'm saying this—I can show you what happened, or happens or whatever when we're more... y'know, secluded; after you're up to date, then we can formulate a proper plan."
"I think that would be an excellent plan," she replied. "But, I must confess, I am actually really curious about your world." She shifted to look directly forward at him, her blue-green eyes sparkling as a small, sweet smile graced her face. "Tell me," she began, "is your world like Remnant? Do you have Dust? What about Aura and Semblances? Grimm?"
Jacob chuckled as he replied, "Easy, Penny, one question at a time. Well, to the Imperium of Man, it's called Holy Terra; but to me, it's always been Earth..."
"Good morning class! I hope you're all prepared for today's lecture."
A broken chorus of hums and groans replied back to Professor Port. Yang let out a sigh. Back to the daily grind.
"Alright students, as you may remember we finished our discussion on mammalian Grimm forms when last we met. Now the time has come for us to begin on the saurian Grimm, the true challenges for young Huntsmen! If you open your textbooks to page 145, we'll start off with the Razorback, a truly formidable..."
Yang looked around the classroom, taking in a headcount of everybody present. Jaune was still looking exhausted—boy, that nightmare must have really taken it out of him—and by contrast Pyrrha was beaming brightly from their encounter with her uncle and aunt. It reminded Yang so much of how Ruby was when Uncle Qrow came by to see them when he wasn't in the field or training newbies at Signal; Even she couldn't help but share in the enthusiasm. Ruby was as attentive as ever—in that she was already doodling in a visible attempt to emulate Jacob's skeletal frame sketches—Weiss was already writing down as many notes as she possibly could and Blake was at attention, though she was as usual only noting down the basics. Even then, there was something obviously gnawing at her, some unspoken thought that bubbled up in her hunched shoulders and her stolid gaze as she listened to Port's lecture. Yang would have to ask her about that later.
And in between the two teams, an empty seat where one lunatic should have been.
Yang sighed again. Jacob's fighting was pretty solid last night, but even she knew that he had overextended himself; the second the knee on that robot failed, he would have been crushed, Aura or not. He was just lucky that her Semblance had been boosted enough to knock it off its feet. Still, she was surprised that he didn't try to fight sneakily like he had at the docks or against Weiss all those weeks ago. When she went down from the punch she remembered beginning to black-out, just teetering on the edge of darkness before the roar of the conscious world pulled her back out. Ruby told her on the way back how Jacob had shot at Roman to distract him from her, something that both amused her and worried her; He wouldn't have needed to do that had she stayed up and not blacked-out. She needed to pump her Aura big-time if she wanted to not do that again.
But now wasn't the time. She needed to focus and get as many notes as she could to relay back to him when classes were done for the day; it was the least she could do for him after risking his neck for her.
She heard a snicker from the opposite side of the room. She glanced over to see Dove and Thresh sneering and making kissy faces at her.
Yang's brow furrowed in annoyance. Can't they go one week without making fun of either of us? I mean, it was just a kiss; what are those morons, ten?
Normally, Yang wasn't one for subtle and innocuous, but there were times that called for it. This was debatably not one of those moments. Just below the table's edge and just in range of CRDL's line of sight, she shot them The Bird as she began scribbling down notes.
"Ruby," she muttered under her breath.
"Hmm?" Ruby didn't look up from her skeletal doodle of a man charging.
"Remind me to kick CRDL's butt in the ring this afternoon."
"They're doing it again?"
"When aren't they?"
"Ignore them and focus on the lecture," Weiss commented.
Yang huffed as she continued jotting down notes. As usual, Professor Port had broken off on one of his stories half-way through.
"...When I finally managed to find the Razorback pack, they were so agile that hitting them was darn near impossible; it wasn't until I found the Alpha that I realized that they were the least of my problems..."
Yang heard only half of it, but she could tell it would be a long day to get to Sparring class.
Oh goody.
For an hour they ended up listening to Port's lecture on "saurian Grimm", something that Yang had once loved to hear about. Saurian Grimm were few and far between, even rarer than Goliaths and usually only seen in the outer territories of the Kingdoms. Uncle Qrow said that he once went toe-to-toe with a Kingslayer; that used to be Yang's favorite story as a kid. Meanwhile, as Port continued to drone on, Yang was furiously taking as many notes as she could, relaying basic ideas and details so Jacob wouldn't fall behind them. Fortunately for him, Yang was no slouch in school; despite the "blonde bimbo" look that she couldn't deny she presented herself as, she was in the top 25 of her class at Signal out of a class of 100 Huntsmen and Huntresses. While, sure, that wasn't as impressive as Weiss' near-perfect grades in Beacon now, she still was proud that she was in the top 25—even more so when Taiyang gave her a newly-upgraded Bumblebee as a graduation gift.
Yang unconsciously smiled as she scribbled down notes, all the while tracing a line down Memory Lane in the back of her head. That beautiful yellow bike had been in need of some frame upgrades and some extra fine tuning but Yang was short the Lien to get that all done, so the moment she saw her baby out from under the tarp she wouldn't and couldn't care about anything else in the world—outside of something happening with Ruby, of course.
"...In conclusion class, while not as agile as insectoid Grimm or as durable as mammalian Grimm, saurian Grimm are certainly not without their perils."
The bell rang for class to end.
"Haha! Managed to time that one just right! Alright students, no homework for tonight, but do study up for the quiz next class. Dismissed!"
"Finally," Yang said, relaxing her wrist as she finished the notes.
"You know, Yang," Blake began as they got up from their desks, "if you wanted to get better notes for Jacob, you should have just asked us."
"Yeah, but it's my butt he saved last night," she replied. "I owe him."
She noticed a small, cheeky smile on Nora's face as JNPR closed in on them. "Ooh, don't give Cardin any ideas," she cheekily toned.
Yang chuckled irately. "Don't push it Nora."
"Cardin will continue to use that against you, Yang," Ren replied, "unless you can find a means to end that... though I doubt you are without a means of doing this."
Yang grinned. "Well, I am hoping to fight Cardin in Sparring class today."
Nora could have grown devil horns with the arrival of that malicious grin on her face. "Ohohohoh, that should be fun to watch."
As the group strolled to their next class, a couple conversations started rolling around the group. Word was that CFVY was set to orchestrate the Dance, however there was the minor problem that they were apparently set to be sent off on a mission from Professor Ozpin. Granted, CFVY was known for their skill in the field so everyone expected that they would have no trouble getting back from their mission. The big problem was that it was about 2 weeks until the Dance would begin and their mission began in a few days; could they get back in time?
"In the event they are unable to get back in time," Weiss began, "I've suggested to Professor Ozpin that perhaps someone else take up the position. I may have also thrown my own metaphorical hat into that ring." Weiss' smile screamed 'ego-boosting' from miles away.
Weiss running a party? Yeah, that wasn't gonna fly. "Oh no you don't, Ice Queen," she replied stopping in place, "you couldn't throw a party to save your life."
"Oh, and you could do better? Under you the party would devolve into chaos!"
"I have more control than that!"
"Tell that to the Boarbatusk you reamed on last week; or, better yet, to Torchwick!"
"Okay, okay," Pyrrha suggested as she came up between them, "we can find a compromise here; How about you both work together? I mean, all of Team CFVY was supposed to help with making this happen, so why not both of you in tandem?"
Yang and Weiss shared a look. "Fair enough," Weiss said, "We'd balance each other out, I suppose; I provide some class, you provide some entertainment for everyone."
Yang hummed in thought. Better than nothing, I guess.
"Deal," Yang said, offering a handshake. Weiss returned it with an unusually firm shake of her own.
They continued walking the hallways towards Oobleck's class, commenting on a few other happenings around the school. Times like this made Yang feel like for a split-second she was a normal, everyday, non-Huntress person that dealt with regular college drama and other stuff in that lifestyle. But who in their right mind would want that kind of life in the prime of their lives?
"So," Nora piped up, "about last night, when you guys went to find Torchwick... did you actually learn anything about what they're doing?"
"Well," Blake began, "we got some information, but most of it I honestly find really troubling."
"Oh? Like what?"
"By all indications, the White Fang and Torchwick seem to be in a three-part alliance with one other group... the Eightfold Path."
The chatter in the hall seemed to quiet down to a murmuring roar. Nora and Ren had stopped in their tracks, worried looks on their faces.
"You gotta be kidding me," Nora groaned, holding her head. Yang was honestly a bit confused; most citizens of Vale had heard of The Eightfold Path, but as far as she knew they were just a bunch of raiders and murderers than never ventured close to the cities.
"Wait, who's the Eightfold Path," Jaune asked, "and why is that a problem?"
Nora seemed to take worryingly deep breath. "The Eightfold Path is basically a gang of vagabonds and psychopaths but taken to the 11th degree," she began gravely.
Ren chimed in next. "Only a few have been seen in the field but they're known for... raising and pillaging villages quickly, almost unnaturally. When officials arrive, the towns they strike are already smoldering or have been ravaged in a way so to let it survive and be targetable again."
Yang felt a shiver of both anger and fear; these raiders were smart enough and cruel enough to let a village survive by the skin of its teeth just to milk it of supplies later. "We met one of them during the fight," Yang replied, "hell of a big guy, lots of armor plating. Had this cannon he hit Jacob with, I think it was sound-based or something."
Ren nodded. "Sound like one of their field commanders. They are usually flanked by fanatics who are generally crueler than their masters."
Nora shivered violently at that remark. Yang felt an angry knot start to form in her stomach.
"Define 'crueler' for me," Weiss said uneasily.
"Not things for polite conversation, I can assure you that."
A collective shiver of disgust ran through the ranks of both RWBY and JNPR.
"How... how do you guys know that stuff," Jaune asked.
"When Nora and I were younger, we passed through a few towns along one of their 'crusade' paths," he replied. "I prefer to keep that memory locked away if I can."
"Okay," Ruby interjected, "can we backtrack to talking about what plans they may have? I'm kinda getting icked out..."
A unified "agreed" came out of everyone's mouths.
"The fact that the White Fang is working with them has me worried," Blake said, "even worse with Torchwick and his lackeys in amongst their ranks too."
"Well then, what do we do?"
Jaune's question was practically laser-guided; first it was a bunch of criminals, then it was a terrorist organization, and now a band or psychos with a body count of villages?
Yang shook her head fiercely, balling her fists together. They may be tough... but I'm tougher. Let them come and try to do anything to this town.
I dare them.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
The sizzle of the molten metal was to his ears like silk was to anyone's skin. The harsh clangs came with the beating of his heart as he shaped the metal to his heart's delight.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
The nagging thoughts from last night and earlier settled into the back of his mind as he worked his forge like clockwork. To a Salamander, when you were not helping out the people of your Sanctuary City along with your brothers, the greatest peace one could find was working a forge. It was at the forge where one could create something so mighty and concrete in form, create that which could both save the just and destroy the wicked. In the flames of the Promethean Cult one could find the tempered path of The Emperor's Light; reliance on one's self as well as sacrificing for the good of others all had their place in walking the path.
He tested the heft of the blade. It was off to him, perhaps a meagre inch or two off-center in balance; No matter, that could be solved easily enough. Blade met blaze as he reheated the mithril in the forge, the metal glowing a bright sun-yellow. The darkened room around him lit up with the light of the fire, kisses of gold dancing off the myriad of weapons he created from out of the corner of his eye.
"In the fires I am born anew,"he whispered to no one.
He glanced down at his hand. A silver ring with an emerald set into the center, carved into the shape of The Flame of Vulkan. Beneath it, a pair of crossed hammers, marking the Tools of the Forge.
Vulkan sighed. Emperor Damnit, I miss my wyrm-hide.
Out came the blade and back onto the anvil.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
As he crafted the blade in his hand, his mind traced back to days that were now truly a lifetime ago. He remembered his youthful days in the Battle Companies, working the forges with the calm of an artisan and passion befitting a fresh novice; His youth before that in Epithemus, watching his mother and father—his human father, not the Primarch, of course—make their living in the markets selling gnorl-whale hides; his days as a Firedrake in the 1st Company, and then as Captain of the 4th Company, the Master of the Fleet. Granted, back in those days he was, for a Salamander at least, far more driven by his tasks rather than compassion.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Of course, all Sons of the 18th Primarch had some compassion in their hearts, as was trained into them by the Reclusiarch and his Chaplains without remorse; The Primarch valued the lives of all mankind, not just his Astartes first. but in comparison to Tu'Shan, Vulkan was closer to an Ultramarine at times than he was to a Salamander; Ultramarines like that blowhard 3rd Company Captain Cato Sicarius focused on the mission, not the people they saved, but Salamanders would take a bullet for any Imperial citizen in harm's way.
Vulkan had always kept that in mind, but when he became Forgefather... that spark of compassion flickered ever so slightly. Suddenly the biggest focus had been finding the Primarch's Relics.
It took coming to Remnant for that truth to sink in.
Rrring!
Vulkan stopped mid-swing. The front door to the shop.
Turning the knobs that controlled the forge's flame down, he reduced it to a candle's flame and set the glowing metal blade on top of the anvil, the blade now the distinct shape of a khopesh.
"What time is it," he asked himself, blinking from behind a set of industrial goggles.
A quick glance at the clock over his mithril armor's stand told him it was 3:41. His brow furrowed; he had started forging that blade around 11:00, he couldn't have been that slow today, right?
Wiping the sweat from his hands with his leather apron, he walked to the door into the shop and was greeted by the sight of Ciaphas Cain standing in the center of the room, staring at Vulkan's Remnant-made Cataphractii armor. Beside his foot there was a large, black, leather case just like what a guitar would be held in.
"You know, Vulkan," Cain began, still staring at the fabricated relic, "even to this day, had this been in the Imperium, I honestly would have believed that this was true Cataphractii armor and I would have removed myself from the presence of such a venerated old suit of armor."
"When you spend as much time in the armory and forges on Prometheus as I have, it's a disappointing truth that eventually that luster of archaic lore starts to dull over time," Vulkan replied, closing the distance and bringing Cain into an Ursa-sized hug. "What brings you to the store?"
"Oh, nothing much," Cain said, lifting up the case. "I was just wondering if there was a chance to have the old girl tested out, see if she needs a tune-up."
Vulkan grinned. "Oh? What's the occasion?"
"After seeing that Muller fellow's chainsword, I couldn't help but get nostalgic. A saber is nice, but I miss a blade that rumbles in my hand sometimes." He scratched his sideburns as he said it, reminding Vulkan of that fresh-faced Commissar-turned-Huntsman he met some twenty-odd years ago that wasn't the least bit happy about getting facial hair so late in his teen years.
Vulkan chuckled and replied, "alrighty then, let's see if she's still up to snuff, eh?" He clicked open the case and was met with a familiar old friend. It was a chainsword not unlike Jacob's, though unlike his, Cain's was only a chainsword with no transformations built into it. But while Jacob's was unmarked and hardly personalized, Cain's chainsword—which he had named Valhalla for more-than-obvious reasons—was wreathed in ornate etchings of golden briars and olive branches, an eagle mounted on the top of the dark-red casing to give it a menacing and regal look.
"Hey, old girl," Vulkan muttered, "good to see you again." He looked up at the Commissar and said, "Do you remember when I first gave her to you as a graduation gift?"
Cain smiled and chuckled. "Of course. I told you that she worthy only of an Astartes with that much bloody gold wreathing the case. And if I recall correctly, you refused to let me refuse such a beautiful gift."
"Nocturne tradition," Vulkan replied.
"'Never turn away a gift from a friend,'" Cain repeated back from memory. "Well, in hindsight, I'm glad I didn't."
Vulkan took the chainsword and brought it to the counter astride the door to the forge, beginning to disassemble the weapon to check if all was still working well. Having made chainswords for centuries he was well-versed in their scematics, even considering having to modify the designs for Remnant technology. Vulkan remembered how fascinated he had first been working with Dust rather than Promethium, figuring out how to maintain effficiency in the engine and how to make different Dust types all produce the same effect of simply powering the blade.
As he took the weapon apart, he noticed Cain seemed to be on edge as well; something was troubling him to a degree. "There's something else on your mind, Ciaphas."
Ciaphas sighed. "Truly an Inquisitor at heart," he said dryly under his breath. "I was thinking about that fight yesterday evening over breakfast with Amberley."
Vulkan smiled at the image of the two of them having a conversation over breakfast through a holoscreen, both probably working on tall glass of coffee or tea. While Cain had come to town on behalf of Ironwood, Amberley had offered to remain in Atlas for the time being to hold down the fort. "Did she have any comments about it?"
Cain rolled his eyes. "Only the usual, at first. I appreciate her encouraging words, but even she should know by now I can get my ass kicked even on a good day. Anyway, I was talking with her and, well, the debacle of the Eightfold Path came up. She was worried about how it was Eliphas we encountered last night."
Vulkan looked up at Cain as he finished inspecting the guide bar. "I don't see why that's of particular concern. Chaos has always sprung up in unexpected places. It's in its very nature." He began to test the sharpness of the teeth, the sheen of the canine-like blades having only dulled some thanks to sparse usage.
Cain made a face of agreement. "True, Vulkan, but at the same time, we haven't seen him in—what was it now, five years since Gabriel fought him?"
Vulkan didn't need to think hard to remember seeing his partner come back to the team bloodied and bruised with a broken Word Bearer pauldron dragging along behind him. "six years next January."
"Right, right," Cain said as he waved the thought aside. "Regardless, doesn't it feel a bit odd just as another Imperial shows up that The Eightfold Path starts popping up again like bunch of plague zombies?"
Vulkan sighed. "That is a valid point," he said, determining everything was in order and well-maintained enough to be active again. "I would call coincidence into play, but in our line of work there's no such thing as coincidences, right?"
Cain arched an eyebrow and made a sound like strangled cough mixed with a laugh. "Where have you been these last few years, He'Stan? Coincidences are abounding for Huntsmen and Imperials alike," he replied. Vulkan merely shrugged his shoulders as if it were a meagre suggestion, all the while his fingers deftly piecing the chainsword back together again.
"Regardless, Ozpin's getting nervous about everything going on... and we still haven't had any luck with Amber."
Cain's sarcastic smile took a downturn. "You still haven't told Mendoza, have you?"
Vulkan stopped as he was reattaching the chain to the guide bar. "I called Mendoza several times these last three months and left him messages. No response."
Cain scratched his chin. "For someone as punctual as the Crimson Fists' Chief Librarian, that's unusual."
"I know, Ciaphas," Vulkan said, stopping and holding up a hand, "I know."
"What about Dante?"
Vulkan continued onwards, replying, "Dante has been out on assignment for Lionheart, but Pandora got my message. She'll let him know as soon as he gets back, but that could be a day, a few weeks, Emperor knows."
Cain wore a look of concentration. "At least she's always got an ear out for us. If being a Haven professor is anything like being an Atlas professor, she's got a million other things to worry about."
The conversation lapsed into a lull, the room now only filled with the sound of the air conditioner and the clicking of gears and springs returning to a combined form.
Vulkan hated this kind of silence, when two friends had run out of ideas for a conversation. "So," he eventually began as he finished reassembling the engine block, "Any luck?"
Cain blinked. "Beg your pardon? Luck with what?"
Vulkan looked up and smiled.
Cain took on a look of confusion before the lightbulb went off in his head. "Oh, that. Uhm, well, she hadn't checked after I left, but she was planning to let me know tonight if there's anything."
"You two are running out of time," Vulkan toned with a chuckle.
"You're one to talk," Cain replied, "at least I got married!"
"To an Inquisitor you had bedded on more than one occasion back in the Imperium."
Cain protested just as Vulkan finished rebuilding Valhalla, rubbing her down with his extra-strength polish to give her that new-weapon shine. "Well, while you two are working on your baby, this old girl is ready for a battle again," he said as he hefted the blade up, gunning the trigger a bit to test the mechanisms. The chain flowed smoothly along it's vicious path, a growl emanating from the engine that lulled to a purr the lighter his grip became. Letting the blades come to a stop, he offered it back to Cain, the commissar's eyes lighting up like a kid's at Sanguinala.
Cain revved the blade again as he took it from Vulkan, doing a few flourishes with it as he tested the hacking weapon. He swung it with deft precision, every move calculated and rehearsed from now more than a century of practice with the Imperium's signature weapon.
"You done?" Vulkan ribbed with a grin on his face.
"Oh, it feels good to have the old girl ready to fight again," Cain replied, reaching down to the left side of his waist. With a few clicks from buttons and magnetic seals the chainsword now hung at his waist, ready to be brought to bear at a moment's notice.
Vulkan barked a solitary laugh and said, "Now the ensemble's complete!"
Cain let out a small sigh. "Commissar Ciaphas Cain, 'Hero of the Imperium' is back in business."
They were pulled from their moment by the sudden sound of a Scroll ringing. Vulkan reached for his pocket and felt the rumble that confirmed it was his. He checked the caller: it was Titus.
"Oh, class must have just ended," Vulkan deduced. "Wonder what he wants to talk about so early." He tapped the answer button and replied, "Hey, Titus! How was your first day of teaching at Beacon—"
"Vulkan," Titus began, interrupting the Forgefather. "There's been a new development with Mr. Muller."
Vulkan felt a pit in his stomach; Titus sounded urgent, even a bit panicked, a very unusual tone to hear from him. "What is it?"
"I couldn't explain it over the Scroll even if I wanted to," he replied, sounding like he didn't want to be overheard. "Let's just say, we were wrong, all of us were dead wrong about him. Are you busy?"
"Uh, no, no," Vulkan replied, noticing that Ciaphas had leaned in in curiosity. "I was just fixing up Ciaphas' chainsword, he wanted to start bringing it out again."
"is he still there?"
Vulkan looked up at Ciaphas, who then proceeded to motion to be put on speaker. Vulkan did so immediately, Cain calling out, "Still present, Titus."
"Good, good, Mira just called Gabriel and Logan, we're on our way back to the hotel. Can you meet us there?"
"Of course, we'll be over immediately. What's this all about?"
There was dead silence for several seconds.
"Titus?"
Cain's question went unanswered for another few seconds.
Titus' voice was low and hinted at confusion when he finally spoke. "I don't honestly know, Ciaphas. But Mr. Muller has answers to questions we would have never dreamed of... at least I think."
Titus wasn't making sense, and now Vulkan was feeling that creeping nag of fear in the back of his head. "What does that mean, Titus? What you said makes no sense."
"...Honestly," Titus began, "Nothing makes sense anymore. I'll see you at the room."
And with that, the call ended and the shop was plunged into silence.
"What was that all about," Ciaphas asked, "I can't have been the only one to notice he sounded... disturbed, right?"
Vulkan didn't respond at first, hanging up his apron and turning off the systems to the forge in back. The tone of Titus' voice was more than just worrying; it was cause for alarm.
"More than I like," he replied, heading to the door with the keys to the shop, Cain turning to follow him. "Let's just hope that Jacob's really an Imperial, though what I saw could say to him being Imperial... or something terrible."
They exited the store and began to walk down the street towards the hotel in the Commercial District, the late afternoon sun glaring overhead.
"What the hell do you mean by that?"
Vulkan turned his head and continued to talk to Ciaphas as they urgently strolled down the street. You were talking about coincidences earlier," he began lowly to keep people from hearing, "well how about this: You remember how I said that when someone is inducted into the Inquisition, the center ring of the Knighting Circle in the Vaults below Beacon will glow in certain ways?"
Cain shot him an eyebrow. "I don't actually remember you saying that; you might have mentioned it to the rest of our lot, but I think this is the first time I'm hearing of it."
Vulkan furrowed his brow in return. "I think I did," he replied, "At Mira's baby shower when Titus asked us to help with ferrying—"
"Oh! Right, I forgot that! Sorry."
"Right. Well, when Jacob was inducted, the runes definitely glowed in a non-Remnantine way."
"...Meaning?"
"While a Remnantine's pattern is the basic outer circle—at least as far as I've seen—someone from the Imperium will have the entire circle glow, with one of the tiles on the edge glowing for what is the closest corner of the galaxy they hail from. Titus would have been, when facing northerly, the 4th on the right from the bottom, for example, to represent he's from Ultramar."
Cain continued to put the eyebrow to work. "And you know this how?"
Vulkan waved and said, "Pure speculation at this point. Ozpin has always said he wanted to look into what the differences mean, but I've seen the patterns a few times now and I can at least piece together a rough estimate of what it means."
"Okay," Cain said slowly, "then if that's the case, what is he?"
Vulkan hesitated as they continued to walk. "His glow was the dead center of the circle, with none of the rings glowing."
Ciaphas seemed to digest that for a moment. "Okay, so the lack of rings is confusing alone, but what does the center glowing mean?"
Vulkan couldn't really believe where he was actually going with this. "Only one person inducted into the Inquisition has ever had that glow... I don't want to believe it's the real deal, but... Ozpin said that the last person to have that pattern was a man who went by the name of Andros Launceddre."
Cain stopped in his tracks. "The former Captain-General of the Custodes?"
"The same," Vulkan replied lowly.
"But, that means—"
"—Our friend Mr. Muller is from The Throneworld."
The day may have been long, but Jacob couldn't lie that the chips were beginning to fall into an odd, panicky, mildly-infuriating but potentially good pattern. Of all the people it could have been to learn his secret today, Penny was perhaps higher on his "Okay" list, if not highest overall. After a few hours to cool down from the realization that he had not only spoiled the future to Penny but also informed characters from 40k to his plight, Jacob was feeling like this was a dangerous path he now walked that could easily lead to disaster. One wrong step, one hair out of line, and canon suddenly unravels like a roll of paper towels.
But he really couldn't panic all that much when Penny was being so cute right next to him.
The two had spent the last few hours simply talking—most of the talking done by the curious little automaton—wandering about the Academy, keeping their distance from the main student body. They now occupied a patch of grass beneath the tree Jacob had sulked under in the aftermath of the dock fight, the two of them looking out over the city.
Penny sat leaning back against the tree, cross-legged like a child. He was currently stretched out, reclining against the tree to her right with his right hand resting on his stomach and his legs together, right foot resting atop his left as he sat and looked out over the city.
Jacob couldn't help but smile at the image of Penny sitting like that, a wide-eyed child in every sense of the word that screamed the word "cute" in twenty-odd languages. It was even better seeing her clearly enjoy his movies; Jacob sat with his left hand holding his phone up as Penny watched in rapt awe at the small screen, an earbud in each one's ear to hear the movie. On screen the forces of the Rebel Alliance were swarming the First Death Star, the X-wing of Luke Skywalker having been just cooked by a scathing blast from Vader's TIE Fighter.
"I've lost Artoo!"
"No, not Artoo!"
"Easy, easy, Penny," Jacob replied, "just wait."
"The Death Star is in clearance of the planet. The Death Star is in clearance of the planet."
"You may fire when ready," toned Peter Cushing as Grand Moff Tarkin. John Williams' music swelled as the Death Star began to prime its beam before cutting back to Vader bearing down on Luke.
Vader locked onto Luke, grimly saying, "I have you now."
He squeezed off a few shots before suddenly the TIE Fighter on his right exploded, two red lasers blasting it into debris.
"What?!"
A cut to Han Solo. "YEAHOO!" The Millennium Falcon screamed down towards the trench, hiding in the sun of Yavin.
"Look out," cries the other pilot, panicking and swerving, only to bump into Vader's TIE Advanced and send the Dark Lord of the Sith tumbling into the void. The pilot quickly crashed his own TIE, leaving Luke free to fire.
"You're all clear kid, now let's blow this thing and go home!"
A massive smile rushed over Penny's face as she watched on. Jacob beamed brightly at her reaction.
The proton torpedo sailed through space, reaching its target and swerving down into the thermal exhaust port. Luke breathed a sigh of relief as he and the other Rebel vessels sailed away. The scene swapped to the last few seconds onboard the Death Star before cutting back to space again. There was a massive blast of pyrotechnics on-screen, and the Death Star was no more.
Jacob chuckled. "I never get tired of that," he said through a laugh as the Rebels flew back to their base on Yavin IV. Penny looked over at him with a big smile and giggled with him.
They continued to watch in silence, with Penny squeezing Jacob's arm like a vice when Artoo returned during the Throne Room scene.
The music swelled, the credits rolled, and Penny clapped her metal hands in applause. "Sensational!"
"Congratulations, Penny Polendina," Jacob began, "You are officially the first citizen of Remnant to see one of Earth's greatest cinematic series on—well, not exactly a big screen, but you get the idea."
"That was so much fun to watch," Penny replied, "We ought to show Ruby these movies too sometime! Well, when it's safe for you to tell them the truth, of course."
Jacob made a smile and pointed at her in the "now you're getting it" sense of the gesture.
"You said that there were seven movies in this series," she asked, "right?"
"Should be eight films come this... September," he replied. "Star Wars: The Last Jedi's supposed to come out around... early or mid-December if I remember right. I'm hoping it's gonna be good... even if I can't go and see it."
"If it was made by the same people, it should be," she said back.
Jacob grimaced in thought. Sure, The Mouse wasn't one to do wrong by its properties consciously, but, well... "First time for everything," he muttered under his breath. "But, still's here's to hoping, right?"
"So, you said that this was the... 'Despecialized Edition'? What did you mean by that?"
Jacob shifted and set his phone down on his stomach. "Well," he began, "Let's just say that the director went back and edited the movies a decade or two later and somehow made bad and bizarre changes; case in point, his edit had that green alien Greedo shoot at Han first instead of Han just shooting the bastard dead. So a few fans came up with this idea and started sharing it with everyone else."
Penny's brow furrowed. "Isn't doing that illegal?"
Jacob held up his hand flat and shook it side-to-side. "Technically, yes," he replied, "but the majority of people have been asking for the non-Special Edition for years and he refused to give it. So, we took matters into our own hands. Besides, it's only illegal if we sell it; sharing it for no price is fine by federal law, so long as you follow the baseline rules."
While Penny pondered his ruminations, Jacob readjusted and checked the battery of his phone. Having recharged it earlier while he and Penny were talking in the mess hall for lunch—where he quickly found out that she had a faux "appetite" that lead to her downing two ½-pound hamburgers with ease—he was still down to only 40% of the battery's life before he would need to plug in again. Jacob hummed as he put it to sleep and then into his pocket as Penny began to ask him another question.
"Jacob," she began, "Do you think we have enough time for one more movie from your world?"
Jacob looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
Penny sat upright and simply replied, "If half of the movies of your world are as creative as this one, the people of your world must be astonishingly creative!"
Jacob rolled his eyes. "To an extent," he said dryly, a myriad of sequels and reboots coming to mind as he said it. "You're looking to get an anthropology lesson through my media, right?"
Penny rubbed the back of her head and hesitantly replied, "No..."
Hiccup!
Jacob laughed. "Honestly, Penny, it's closing in on dinner time, I should probably meet up with the rest of the guys and get what info they were able to relay from class—"
"What about our show?"
Jacob stopped. He knew exactly what she wanted to see, or at least some extent."Uhh, well... See... how do I put this... I don't think it's necessarily a good idea to know too much—"
"Perhaps with my input," she interrupted immediately, "We can prevent Ms. Nikos' death. If I can see all the variables, there may be a way to establish a plan in our favor."
Jacob weighed her suggestion in his head. On the one hand, it was potentially dangerous as her input and output could upset things and put others in danger. On the other, she was already partially in the know. Giving her all the details could play in his favor.
It was a risk he—hopefully—could take.
"Alrighty then, Penny," he began cautiously, "where do you want to start?"
Penny took a minute to think it over, humming aloud as she pondered. "While the most thorough way about it would be to start at the beginning, we are on a time crunch at the current moment. You said it she perished in Volume 3, Chapter 12, correct?"
Jacob felt unnerved by how she phrased it, but she was technically right. "Well, uhm, yes."
"I would imagine it would be a good idea to see the entire Volume the whole way through," she continued.
Jacob breathed a heavy sigh before he solemnly extended his phone to her. "I would say that's probably a good idea," he continued, though I don't imagine you'll be able to see it all in one... sitting..."
As he had been talking to her, she tapped her wrist and her palm opened up to reveal a metallic tendril that snaked from her wrist up to the base of his phone, prodding it before finally connecting into the machine.
Jacob stared at her, mainly out of surprise that her—for all intents and purposes—universal power chord was able to jack into his phone.
Penny looked back at him and clearly was confused by the look on his face. "What?"
Jacob sat there with a slightly ajar mouth as he replied, "I'm just amazed that you were able to make the connection, being that my tech is more than a little foreign and all that."
"Oh, right," she began with realization, "General Ironwood created a metamorphosing jacking chord in the event I ever needed to access computer systems. It will restructure itself based on whatever port it needs to interact with."
Jacob raised his eyebrows high as he hummed, "Impressive tech, if not a little Orwellian for my taste." She gave him a confused look before he replied, "something from a book back home; it's on my phone, actually, as a PDF file I bought."
Still confused, Penny's eyes began to stare off into the void as she clearly began deciphering the phone's systems. It made sense, after all, that the two were working off of what were essentially completely foreign operating systems; it was like someone speaking Chinese to a Navajo without a linguist on standby to help either side out.
There was an awkward silence as Jacob waited for her to fully try to compute the phone's systems, and even then, he wasn't sure about it at all; could she even break the barriers of the different systems? If she did, would one or the other act like a virus to the other, or would they cancel each other out altogether? He shuffled uncomfortably at the idea of either as he watched and waited.
A minute passed. Another two.
Five.
Seven.
The suspense was agony, and by his reckoning it would probably take hours for her to sort through all of the lines of code.
His answer came after 15 minutes of waiting.
"I'm in," she announced without warning, jolting Jacob in surprise.
"Jesus Christ, Penny," he began, "first of all, you scared the hell out of me. Second, seriously? I was expecting it to take a few hours."
"Admittedly it took a lot quicker than I expected too," she said, "but I found that the OS of your phone is not unlike that of the CCT systems, or of Atlesian computers for that matter. My father created me with the strongest Atlesian processors and computation systems available to the Army, so I am more or less designed to access computers easily, including anti-malware support systems."
"So, you're also equipped for cyber-warfare," he dryly concluded. "Are they expecting you to save the world from Salem, or to "assume direct control" of the world?"
His sarcastic rhetoric buzzed in one ear and out the other as she announced, "Downloading all videos on: RWBY, Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4." Her eyes began to glow, like they were a computer monitor waking up. Jacob sat back as she continued, worried that she may overreact to the footage of her death; then again, she hadn't reacted particularly terrified to learning about it earlier. Actually, that brought up a good point; she had acted emotionally to being discovered, but she was stoic and admittedly clueless upon discussing the future and her death with Jacob. What was with the sudden swap of emotional ranges?
Several minutes passed, and Penny remained upright, staring ahead with glowing eyes. She seemed to be aware of things, as every so often someone would walk past them and her gaze would follow them, but otherwise she did seem unusually stiff l in her posture. Jacob sat in boredom as he waited, twiddling his thumbs as he waited.
Another minute.
Two. Three. Four.
Then again, Jacob thought to himself, each Volume is about an hour to two hours long. Maybe I should have had her read the Blu-Ray instead?
After ten minutes, the glow left her eyes, though the look on her face was one that screamed "hurt" to him.
"Ruby..."
That word hurt something deep in his chest., just beneath his heart if that made any sense.
"First me... then Yang... and then Pyrrha." She hugged herself as if guilty or scared—there was that human side again, it was like watching a different breed of bipolar than what traditionally was called that, only now he sort of understood what was going on.
"Hey," he began, reaching out to take her hand in his, "it's not your fault."
"I understand," she replied a bit slowly, her eyes darting about as she clearly was processing the footage, "but still... where I not dismantled everyone wouldn't have panicked, and the Grimm wouldn't have swarmed Vale."
Jacob shook his head. "Still not your fault," he replied, "It's all Cinder's fault."
At her name, Penny looked up in revelation. "The Fall Maiden," she said, "those legends... they're true?"
Jacob shrugged. "Apparently," he said, "they are. Even I'm at a loss in regards to what they're all about outside of having elemental powers and being the keys to these—"
"—Those relics," she finished. "General Ironwood always told me that I would have something to do with relics and protecting the world, but I never could have computed this."
Jacob shifted as a thought bubbled to the surface. "Speaking of computing," he began, "I hate to be the Puritanical Killjoy here, but something's been nagging at me all day, Penny; When we first met, you didn't have the foggiest clue about emotions and those nuances. When did you start taking the metaphorical Communications class?"
Penny looked up at him and replied, "While my father was in Vale to meet with General Ironwood, he installed an additional patch into my systems that would help me with human emotions and communication. It's a prototype, so, my "emotions" are... at best, not well-concealing, and hardly 'nuanced', I'll confess."
"An emotion chip," he replied, processing it himself, "Cool. Data from Star Trek: TNG would be scrambling to get his hands on that thing."
She gave him another confused look before he replied, "another reference from home, I'll tell you about it later."
"Right. Regardless," she continued, handing back his phone, "I can't let Ruby be hurt like this, nor can I let Pyrrha or Yang be hurt either. If they're important to you and to Ruby, of course they're important to me too!"
Under normal circumstances that would sound kinda like something a sociopath with no understanding of empathy would say, he thought to himself, but it is Penny, so there's really no harm nor foul intended.
"Well then," Jacob began, rising up and crossing his legs as his back bent forward slightly as he rested his elbows on his thighs, like some overgrown child sitting Indian style, "What do you think we should do?"
"I... I'm actually am not certain," she replied, "I'll need time to come up with a proper plan and run it against the odds of everyone surviving, as well as other variables. But therein lies a problem."
Jacob's brow cocked. "define 'problem' for me."
She stood up and hugged herself tightly. "The Imperials, and the Eightfold Path."
"...Ah. Right."
"They now are a piece of this, and that will throw variables into difficult patterns to try and decipher. I'll do what I can, but... even with my advanced logistics systems, there's only so much I can do." Her sheepish admittance to her limits had an endearing quality to it as she dug her metal-reinforced foot into the earth beneath it, creating the beginnings of a trench.
Jacob sighed. "Fair enough," he replied, "though even then we don't have all the pieces. In all honesty, Penny, I would say we adhere to canon as close as we can, adjusting for minor deviances and praying for no major deviances."
Penny held her chin in contemplation. "I suppose that is both the safest, and yet the least safe path. If we fail at the crucial point... then all three of us may still perish during the invasion."
Jacob grimaced. "I know... but it's the best I've got for now."
Penny stared at him with a blank look, seeming to estimate what he was thinking and weighing it against everything she could think of off the top of her head if the sense of vacancy in the back of her eyes said anything. She sighed as well. "I guess you're right. But I will continue to look into it."
"I'd be remiss if you didn't, Penny."
There was a buzzing sound as Penny blinked in surprise and reached back to retrieve her own Scroll. "Oh! That would be General Ironwood! I should get going!"
"Right, right," Jacob replied, "We'll talk about this later. And we don't talk about it to another soul until we both agree on it, okay?"
Penny nodded, smiled and furrowed her brow in determination. "Right." She held out her hand. "For Pyrrha and Ruby."
Jacob looked for a second at the hand before returning the smile and taking her hand. "For Pyrrha and Ruby," he replied, the expected vice grip that was a grasp from her instead only a gentle handshake.
With that, Penny turned around and began walking, looking one last time to give him a small, warm but worried smile before walking away towards the city.
Jacob stood there for a solid two minutes, watching her and both wanting to laugh and to cry out in panic. The chips were down, the enemy was becoming known and the secret was getting out. How long could he keep this up now? What could he do?
"Hey, Jacob!"
Jacob perked up at the sound of Yang's voice. He turned around to see both teams coming up to him, bookbags slung on their shoulders and backs respectively.
He couldn't help the smile that grew on his face.
I'll do what Americans—or, rather, Terrans—do best, he thought as he and Pyrrha locked eyes.
I'll fight like Hell.
Oo-rah.
When darkness crept upon Vale, there was always a fight of light and darkness what mirrored the eternal struggle of life on Remnant. From the forests surrounding the city, where the Grimm wandered freely in their shrouded, blacked bodies under the canopies, the pitch night always reached into the city, hoping to gather some foothold to swallow the city in naught but the broken grin of the fractured moon. But where darkness advances, the light of a thousand street lamps, thousands of cars and thousands of homes beat back the encroaching shadow.
The eternal battle of light and dark never ended, never changed no matter where it was. How poetic.
Ciaphas Cain pinched his brow as a headache attempted to worm its way from his brow into the rest of his skull. Of all the things he had heard now, this was unexpected at best.
He sat beside Vulkan and Logan at the table in Titus and Mira's hotel room, the table expanded out for far more people. The entire table was surrounded by Imperials of all walks of life now, Space Marines and Guardsmen, Inquisitors and Commissars and the lone progeny of one of them seated amongst them as well. The lamps remained on in the room but most of them sat in dim lighting, all staring intently at the Ultramarine seated at the head of the table. When Cain had first arrived at the room, he was surprised that they had splurged for what amounted to a suite with a kitchen and several beds, even having a medium-sized living room-type setup in the front to entertain guests. For a suite, it was not exactly lavish, but not exactly lacking either.
At the table, almost a dozen bowls sat in various degrees of consumption from a basic North Mistrali dish that Mira had learned years ago; some of the bowls still carried their payloads of noodles, steamed veggies and boiled eggs in a broth, others left only the broth, but most were empty but for the tiniest drops and pieces of food. Various drinks also populated the table, mostly sodas or juices. Cain and Darnath were the only ones with alcohol in their systems at the moment, the commissar opting to make himself a dry gin martini—Atlesian vodka in a martini was vile, at least according to Amberley—and the former Third Company Captain of the Imperial Fists opting for a can of a local beer. Cain couldn't help but remember his time with Jurgen and the 597th sitting in a circle like this, having glasses of amasec and enjoying their time as much as they could in the middle of a campaign.
Now, however, any semblance of a good mood was out the window.
The room was quiet like the grave as they let what Titus and Mira said sink in.
"You can't be serious," Luce Spinoza finally said as she rubbed her temples from beneath near-platinum blonde hair.
"He is pulling your leg," piped up Gabriel, clearly wanting an alcoholic drink of his own as he paced in the back.
Mira and Titus looked up from their bowls, hardly touched and most likely starting to get cold. "Believe me," Titus began, "at first I was having a hard time believing it too."
"But what he said is still rather alarming even if he was only partially telling the truth—"
"What," growled Gabriel, "that he hails from a version of Holy Terra where we are the product of... of fiction?"
"More along the lines that an invasion is headed for Vale," Logan replied, his hands wringing one another as he stared down at the table in contemplation.
Cain rubbed his brow. "I've hear some weird things in my time," he began, "but this a new one on me."
Vulkan remained rather quiet, holding his chin in contemplation as he watched his teammates. At her mother's side, Delia was twiddling her thumbs as she registered all of this herself; unlike most born on Remnant, she was far from unaware of the Imperium of Man. But with this new development, it wouldn't be a stretch to expect her in the middle of a crisis.
Speaking of which, Cain's head was swimming. If this was true that Mr. Muller's world birthed their own as a brainchild for some... some game, did that mean his stories were all for naught? Was his rotten luck at the hands of some sociopathic writer with nothing better to do then get Cain into ever-more impressive perils?
Around him, a slow cacophony had begun to build, like the start of a Noise Marine's solo, though it was made of the voices of his friends. He sipped from his martini again, the gin going down just right along his palate. Cain would have begged the Emperor to have this all be just a joke, but the conviction that he had come to know in Titus' eyes was on full display here.
That only made Ciaphas more concerned.
"How do you know he isn't tricking you," Delia finally piped up, her voice rising over the din. "How do you know he isn't, say, an Alpha Legionnaire who managed to get here too?"
Ciaphas could almost see the faintest line of a smile on Luce's face. The Inquisitorial apple doesn't fall far from the tree, he reminded himself.
"Because he had this with him."
A large but thin book landed on the table, clearly a paperback by all account. Everyone maneuvered around it to see what it was, some scrambling over the others to get a better view:
The image of a roaring commissar filled the front, a great scowl across his face as he stared out towards whatever enemy he faced. In the background a flag with an Imperialis flew high in a strong breeze, the massive, all-too-easy-to-spot barrel of a Basilisk poking out from the background. Beneath the Commissar a myriad of Guardsmen ran about, sporting the iconic Cadian Shock Troop patterns of armor, all the while a clear afternoon sun cast the lot in a dim, menacing yellow-red glow.
"…Codex: Astra Militarum?" asked Darnath.
Cain felt his brow cock up in confusion. "Warhammer 40,000?"
"There's more," Mira replied. "There's one for the Space Marines, too, and he was holding one of these for Traitor Astartes too."
Gabriel and Cain both looked up in surprise, though Gabriel's look seemed to also share a hint of outrage at that too.
"There are also ones for all major xenos races too, apparently."
An angered growl. Gabriel was disliking Jacob with each passing moment.
Logan was flipping the pages of the book, tracing the writings with his meaty finger. They group sat in silence as they read through with him, their astonishment only growing; historical records of low count but highly important battles in the Guard's long service, details on the various Regiments of note, details on the traditional units of the Astra Militarum—not just the Guard proper but those of the Militarum Tempestus and even the Militarum Auxilia too—and even famed names like Cain's fellow commissar Sebastian Yarrick and Ursarkar Creed.
Then they reached the pages showing models, and Cain could have sworn up and down on the Lectitio Divinitatus that everyone's eyebrows reached for the sky. Models of Cadians, of Catachans and Mordians and Tallarn and a few others including his own Valhallans.
"By the Throne," he heard Gabriel say, though he was too enrapt by the book before him to look up at the Blood Raven and acknowledge him.
The next few pages after that were rules about "orders" that required "Leadership checks" to issue to troops, as well as other rules, such as "weapon stats" and other such things.
They reached the unit rules and by then, it was very clear by the lowering tension and underlying dread rising in the air that everyone was in agreement; Mr. Muller was telling the truth.
"I'm gonna have to go back on that cold-turkey business," Logan said as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.
"So that's it then," Luce replied. "We never existed. Not to him at least, and that means that this world too..."
"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion."
Everyone's gaze fell upon Vulkan He'Stan, still seated at his original spot, still holding his chin as his elbows rested on the table in front of his bowl.
"What do you mean," Mira asked the Salamander.
"I mean that perhaps the Warp has been causing far more hijinks in far more realms than just our own." He stood up and began to pace, his hands now clasped behind his back. "While I am neither Librarian nor Sorcerer, I do have a general idea of how the Warp works. Just as it bleeds into our reality, perhaps it also bleeds into his, albeit at a far weaker level than in the Imperium."
Cain stood upright, arms crossed in front of him. "Meaning...what, Vulkan?"
"Perhaps Mr. Muller's reality can see our own as well as those of other realities that the Warp has some access to, manifesting in dreams and ideas that become—"
"—Become their media," Gabriel finished. "The Imperium is real, but to them it is but the creation of an active imagination."
Vulkan shrugged. "Granted, this speculation on my part is as educated as an Ork, but we know plenty of people out there who can help in this matter."
Gabriel bristled as Cain put two and two together. "You're suggesting we call Sugedai in?"
"I'm suggesting we send out a Yellow Alert to everyone," Vulkan replied, "inform everyone and get as many of our brothers and sisters here as soon as possible."
Cain cracked his knuckles. "Right then," he said, walking to the laptop Mira had taken with the two of them, "I'll go ahead and put out the message."
Pulling up a series of commands he had long-since memorized, he entered into a backdoor comm-system. The symbol of the Imperial Aquila flashed across the screen before a series of communiques popped up across the screen; several dozen Imperials keeping in contact at all times, giving each other details on new arrivals, whereabouts of Traitors, keeping contact casually, et cetera. He locked his fingers and moved to pop, the sound of crackling reaching his ears. He began to type, saying aloud at the same time his message under his ID:
"'All Imperials respond, Yellow Alert in Vale. If you can correspond, report in ASAP. Potential Eightfold Path activity and increase in Grimm activity. Repeat, please report in ASAP. The Emperor Protects. -Commissar_Cain.'"
With a harsh tap of the Enter button, the message went live, awaiting reception from the many servants of The Emperor that now lived on Remnant. Hopefully, most would get the memo and be able to arrive. Hopefully.
"Message is out, now we wait," he announced to the crowd, now loosely clustered together and clearly beginning to plan things.
"Right," Vulkan began as he got up out of his chair, "I should alert Ozpin to this information. If the city is in danger we must shore up General Ironwood's defenses as soon as possible to secure the city for the Vytal Festival."
Cain noticed Mira and Titus glance at one another in an unassured way. Warning bells were already sounding off; what was that all about?
Knock-knock-knock-knock!
Everyone unified their gaze on the door. Ciaphas felt his left hand unconciously touch the back of his Dust laspistol, still holstered at his side and loaded with a few shots.
"...I suppose I'll get it," Titus said as he moved to get up, braced up in concern. He moved to the door and the tension in the room skyrocketed. Was it another Imperial? Or worse.
He moved to open the door, and seemed to look down at something.
"...Mr. Muller."
"...Captain. I, uhm, I-I hope I wasn't interrupting something..."
Secret's out, and the Imperium is amassing the Crusade! Let's just hope they'll be up for the challenge when Jacob appeals his case to them.
Next chapter, Jacob gets a heart-to-heart with them all, the first few Imperials get their messages and an alliance is formed.
Also,I'm hyped like hell right now; my city finally got it's own GW store and the cards for the Limited Edition Terminator Chaplain have started making the rounds. My wallet may hate me, but for my 21st birthday on the 18th I got a solid chunk of change on spare I can put to use. What to do, what to do...
Oh yeah, and now I'm 21 irl. Still no urge to drink tough. Weird to think about, in all honesty.
Review, follow, Favorite, all of that stuff helps give me the insight and drive to keep doing this. As of this chapter we're closing in on 200 favorites! Small potatoes to some, but to me that means so much! But anways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I will see you all in the next Chapter. Buh-bye~!