Authors Notes:
Mhm… can you taste that in the air? It's the confusion. Tastes pretty good, don't you think? No? Here, just try it. Just a little.
Jokes aside, lots of you have queries on why Ruby was made leader.
…
That's all I have to say.
…
I kid. Ozpin has reasons for why he does things. Granted, he can sometimes be extremely selective and secretive with said reasons, but is choice of leader really something he'd just throw up in the air and forget about? I'll leave that with you.
Oh, and did you all notice how Weiss actually congratulated Ruby on becoming leader? I'm wondering how many of you are reading into that, because it means what you think. And what it means isn't that grandiose. She literally is congratulating her for what she achieved instead of, you know…
Coming off the back of the plan concerning this chapter, I didn't actually write up like ¾ of what was on the agenda. I split up the contents so that you guys can get something that we haven't had a lot of in the past 2-3 chapters.
And this was really interesting to write. You might be able to find out why if you just keep on reading on. I hope these parts don't seem too jarring or anything, though. If you do think they are, make sure to explain why and how I could try fix it, thanks!
On a side note, have you lot seen V7C3 of RWBY? Man, Jaune having Crocea Mors on his arm making me like: `woah that thing too big`. I was thinking if it made sense to have it on his fore-arm and backwards to the way in the show would make it seem dumb in this story. In conclusion, I'm chalking it up to the fact that canon Jaune's Crocea Mors is the modified one and this one is still relatively the same to as it was in V1 (if you count the couple of sweet tweaks I made to it) and is therefore smaller.
Side note (2) from Shul of the future: V7C5 has Jaune getting it on with the MILFs! Pyrrha's rolling around in her grave as well as ashes in the wind can.
Can you tell I'm trying to make myself feel better?
This A/N has been pretty long so, without further ado, enjoy the chapter.
Eight Months to the Start of Beacon
It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming and these damn Mistrali flies didn't want to get out of his hair.
"Tch. What are they doing? Are they trying to lay eggs in there or something?" Jaune cursed as he swatted up and around his face. Aura could do countless things, but protecting him from flies wasn't one of them. Calling out in front of him, the blonde managed to control his frustration and only sound mildly pissed, "Tell me again why we're trudging through the forest thick when there's literally a trail half a mile to our left?!"
Not even bothering to turn around, Vul trekked onwards with his hands shoved into his pockets. His voice was surprising nonchalant as he moved with little to no effort through the greenery, "Oh, waah, waah – keep crying."
Jaune glowered, eyebrows sharpening as he felt an intense urge to impale his mentor straight through his back.
Before he could contemplate it any further, he continued after a second, "But keep it down, will you? When you're this far from a town – bandits lurk about. And that path you keep wailing on about is the perfect place to watch for any unfortunate traders that just so happen to pass by."
A single hand waved off to the side dismissively, "But, by all means, go ahead and walk on it if you think a little wildlife is going to kill you more than a ragtag gang of thieves."
Giving the flies around him a final growl, and cutting his hand through the air once more, Jaune asked – slightly confused, if anything. "Aren't you a huntsman? Isn't it your job to take down people like that?"
"Yeah, well…" Vul paused again, voice trailing along the syllable of the final word.
He was a hard man to get a read on but, being the general outcast he was back in his hometown's middle school, Jaune had loads of chances to just sit back and watch people. To learn people. Their habits, their mannerisms, their speech patterns – all of it.
Honestly, it was pretty cool when he first learnt he had this sort of skill. Something of a hidden talent, blossomed to life thanks to his own social ineptitude and awkwardness.
And there went the pride.
In the last few months, Jaune had only picked up on two or three things that his guide did subconsciously or out of habit. One of these few things was the way he liked to hang onto words quietly while he was thinking of what to say.
Was it because Jaune didn't need to know? If so, that brings up why? Was it useless for him to know? Dangerous? Questions like these raced through Jaune's mind as his mentor continued to think along the path of his trailed sound.
"There are people out here that don't know we're around." Vul's voice dimmed to a whisper as he brushed past a light branch. "And I'd like to keep it that way."
Ominous couldn't even describe how that sounded. Jaune decided that it was probably best to leave that where it was – continuing to tail the black-haired huntsman as he cleared a path for them to walk. The silence, filled only with the twittering of the odd bird and the crunch of the matter at their feet, brought the teen to reflect on the past four months.
When he put it like that, it almost seemed unreal.
Four entire months. Four months of brutal and agonizing pain. Really, the amount of things crammed into his brain should have it bursting at the seams. Basic sword and shield play, coupled in with unconventional weapon usage. Ever have a guy just randomly throw the wrong end of his sword at you?
Jaune didn't think so. Jaune didn't even think a sword had a right end when it was being lobbed straight for your face.
There was also hand-to-hand that Vul finally taught him after he was satisfied with his blade work. Jaune was perplexed at first, thinking his progress with Crocea Mors' substitutes – while still progress – didn't really seem up to standard.
Vul explained, "Kid, you have one year. Twelve months. I'm not going to spend more time on something that I don't need to." He went on to elaborate, the words sticking with Jaune weeks after they were spoken, "Playing tricky is playing to win. You want to win? Dodge this punch."
Suffice to say, Jaune did not dodge that punch and suffered greatly for it at the time.
Though, the alcohol-fuelled words of wisdom held some truth to them. While not great, his skill with the sword and shield was now good enough to take on any old Grimm without much hassle. Combine that with the Aura conduction training that they did simultaneously – Jaune's striking and stopping power increased tremendously.
An Ursa claw coming his way? He could take that on his left arm, braced with both shield and Aura. The head of a Beowolf? You mean the one flying through the air right now?
Well, he wasn't that good, but Jaune thought his point came across pretty well.
He was no longer helpless. He was stronger. Maybe he could become the hero he always wanted to be. Maybe I won't fail again. Sapphire eyes locked onto the tattered cape of his mentor – tracking upwards as they bet the back of his greying hair.
Guess there was someone to thank for all of that. He'd have to pry the words from his cold, dead corpse to get it, though.
And while his skill with the blade was, all things considered, pretty good – he had only been training in close-quarters for the better end of a month. Vul taught him all sorts in those few weeks, too. A mixture of boxing, wrestling and an assortment of Mistrali martial arts that Jaune was almost completely sure he made up.
Because there was nobody in Remnant with a shred of dignity that would call his art `windmill-fu`. There couldn't have been. And if there was, Jaune would have liked to meet him.
It was surprisingly effective.
"Hey, Vul," Jaune said, calling out in front of him in a respectable volume.
"Hm?"
"You don't know where we're going, do you?"
Tweet! Tweet! The birds above them spoke for his mentor – highlighting the absence of words between them as Vul's answer. He hiked onwards, hands in pockets and cape swaying behind him.
"Why do you keep doing this?" The young teen contemplated, eyes wincing in a pitiful expression aimed at the man ahead. Pity aimed at him or himself. One or the other. Both, maybe.
Gods knew if they were about to end up stumbling across another naturalist tribe on accident. Jaune thought their philosophy was interesting, just so long as that philosophy wasn't exposed directly to his eyes. Good on them, but also no at the same time.
He had yet to get the images scrubbed clean from his memory.
"Look," Vul answered, turning around as he held back a branch, making it bend backwards at a precarious angle. "I have a rough understanding of where we are, alright? As long as we keep walking along the same line that path you were talking about – we should be headed right to where we need to be." His hand came off of the branch as it flew forward towards Jaune's face.
Pupils trembling, his eyes widened at the incoming attack. Hissing through his teeth, Jaune shoved his entire body downwards into a squat; blue eyes rocketing to the top of his head to watch the branch whizz by.
Jaune stayed there for a second before making to stand slowly; he almost couldn't believe what just happened. But it happened. And they both saw it. The teen turned his head towards where the branch still slowly rocked back and forth, only to bring his wary gaze back towards his mentor, who looked at him with equal disbelief. Blood-red met sea-blue.
…
With a finger gun, Jaune mustered the smuggest grin he could, "Gonna have to try harder than that." Nailed it. Was it worth the potential thrashing during training later?
Probably.
However, his teacher's crimson-eyes regarded him with something new as they traced around him. They were swirls of pooling scarlet – dim, but catching the light – and Jaune suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of crawling discomfort under his skin.
"Huh." Vul turned again, pushing his hands into the confines of his dress trouser pockets before rustling the leaves under them as he continued to walk.
With the uneasy feeling fading, Jaune's hands crept up to the shoulder strap of his backpack – the same one that held his weapons and various supplies. The teen pulled it further up as he tried to comprehend just how weird that entire interaction was.
His mentor was eccentric, but never was he that… unsettling.
Said mentor was beginning to disappear into the foliage, and Jaune was not about to be lost in the woods all by himself. The only reason he survived when he first ran away was pure luck; the blond was almost certain he had long run out of the stuff.
Boots kicking back in a jog, Jaune began to catch up – scattered leather pads across his body keeping the majority of his hoodie still in the motion.
He had hoped the village wasn't too far away.
/-/
It was surreal, honestly. Going for months out in the wilderness with little to no human contact to suddenly being in the midst of a mass of moving bodies felt so disorientating. And no, Jaune did not count spending time with Vul has `human contact`. That would be a disservice to the incredible evolution both human and faunus kind have gone through over the millennia.
Spending time with Vul was like spending time with next to a train wreck. It was an absolutely horrendous, but you couldn't help but stick around and stare. Maybe learn something along the way from the horrifying mistakes of those before him.
Jaune had both hands wrapped under his backpack straps as his eyes darted from side to side, "Well, we got here like you said… you mind telling me exactly why we're here again?"
"Stop looking so out of place, kid, we're supposed to be laying low – you make it look like you're a cow faunus at a hamburger store."
"Sorry," the teen stressed, wincing slightly as he lowered his hands and reset his expression. "It's just… you know."
Vul scoffed, crimson eyes shifting from one building to another in search of something. "I don't, but it's not like I can't guess. We've been to towns before, like when we went to get you the gear you were lacking." His mentor was obviously referring to when they outfitted him with his leather pads a few months back.
"I mean, that's true, but that was ages ago. The only other villages we ever seem to come across always seem to be in ashes by the time we get there…" Jaune trailed off, reminiscing the sorry sights that were once bustling with activity like the settlement they were currently cruising through. What if that happened to his hometown, Ellis?
Jaune shook the thought out of his head vehemently.
The world didn't revolve around him; he wasn't some sort of action hero from a Spruce Willis film. He was just a shitty teen in a shitty place. Ran away from home to become something he thought he knew everything about – only to almost get himself killed and get kidnapped by a greying drunk with a midlife crisis.
"At least this one's still in one piece." He whispered quietly to himself.
"Don't count your eggs just yet."
"Huh? What do you-?"
"I've heard a few things – got a few contacts. They say that this town's been infested with a problem." Vul cut through Jaune's question with masterful ease. He had no idea if it was for the sole reason of frustrating him, but the blond wouldn't put it past the man.
Nevertheless, Jaune played along – knowing he wouldn't get that answer. There was one he could get, however. "What kind?"
A mere second of silence as Vul continued to phase though the crowd around them. "The terrorist kind."
Terrorist? There was only one organization he could think off; they appeared on the news once or twice and Jaune could vaguely recall their name. "The White Fang?"
The teen was taken by the scruff of his neck, the hand dragging him into a nearby alleyway that smelt like moss, piss and garbage. Jaune groaned, his body being slammed against the brick wall of a nearby building, while he scrunched his eyes to ease the pain.
"Don't just say that." The passing stench of alcohol wafted from the mouth of Vul, dizzying the bot slightly. "I've been teaching you about combat skills; you wanna know a couple of fieldwork skills?"
It sounded like a question so, after a moment, Jaune nodded his head quickly.
"Good. Here's rule number one: when it comes to investigating fucking terrorists, you don't just blurt out the names of the groups your trying to investigate. You know what kind of attention that could get you?" His mouth was sealed shut. Vul shook him against the wall again, earning another pained grunt from the teen. "Do you?"
He shook his head.
"You get the radicals trying to recruit you. What are you going to say, `oh, yeah, I'd love to`?" Jaune pondered if he should have answered. Luckily, he didn't have to very hard as Vul continued, "Then you get the radicals that pick you out to get answers, thinking you're snooping about. You want to admit you're investigating their suspicious activity? And then you get the radicals that'll try beat the shit out of you just for mentioning a group like that. Cover gets blown, just like that."
"…" Jaune had no words, he could only try stand the little ground he had – boots barely touching the damp floor of the dark alleyway.
Another slam. "Get it?"
"Y-yeah, I get it." He was dropped and he almost fell over, not even noticing how weak his legs felt before his mentor's outburst. That was rare; it only ever happened one other time in Jaune's recent memory. When he first said he'd have rather died with the rest than live to fight another day. And that ended with vomit.
Vul was serious about all of this then, that was a given now.
His mentor gave him a stern look with steely, blood-red eyes before swivelling on his foot and returning to meld into the crowd they so easily diffused out of a minute prior. While his torn cape fluttered around the corner, it made Jaune realise how seamlessly his teacher flowed through places like these. He would have thought the man would stumble and bump through carelessly.
Look how wrong he was.
Another deep breath as Jaune released the lingering tremble in his legs. "Alright, Jaune, let's do this."
He jogged out of the alleyway, returning to the side of the older man whose face conveyed no recollection of what he had just did. Jaune payed no attention, twisting his face into a similar shape as he began to survey the air in the same fashion of the huntsman that walked a pace ahead of him.
In many ways, the scenery reminded him of the village him came across just after running away from his family.
Shops and stalls around them looked well-used and half-broken, but each one seemed to have a unique feeling in this community. The yells of product endorsement, the people hauling supplies back and forth and ugly faces twisted into scowls to ward off anybody who had the courage to try and start a conversation. There were also the foreboding alleyways, like the one he was dragged into by Vul.
Yup, really reminding him of the good days.
Azure eyes surfed over a particular building – a couple of brutish looking men bursting out of the front door with rambunctious laughter. Jaune wasn't paying attention to that, though. The sign's paintjob was half rubbed off; the wood it was written on hung loosely from two metal chains. While the footsteps of his master continued, Jaune's head was fixated on the white letters.
He could barely read the writing. `The Foxhound's Eye-tooth`
"Vul."
The huntsman took a look over his shoulder, eyes flat. Jaune was still staring at the structure, seemingly a bar if the shouting and cheering from inside was anything to go by. It was in the evening, after all. Vul's look found itself on the same building, following the blond's sight-line.
"Kid, no."
Jaune turned to face the inquisitive eyebrow of the man who denied him of this chance. Vul's hands were still in his pockets and he looked less than keen to entertain his idea. "Come on, Vul, it's a pub – where else could we come across town rumours and stuff if it isn't there?"
Sighing, Vul pinched the bridge of his nose – annoyed. He must have been in a really bad mood because he honestly looked as though he was at the end of his own rope. "This isn't some sort of movie," he reasoned, "we can't just walk into a pub and expect the answers to just fall into our laps. There are some things you have to work for. Someone might even catch wind of us asking about."
His expression dropped, Jaune let his eyes downcast onto a piece on the floor. Yeah, that sounded about right. He really thought he was onto something though. It was this gloomy mood that made the blond lose his senses for a second – but it was enough for someone to get close enough to him without him noticing.
"Whoops-!" Jaune stumbled forward slightly, catching himself before he landed face-first onto the path below. Turning around, he saw a brown-haired man picking something off of the floor. Something that he dropped in the accidental collision between them. "Sorry about that, man, that was my bad." Nothing more was said as he trudged into the bar doors – tail wagging behind him.
Both Jaune and Vul trailed the faunus until he was out of sight.
"On a second thought…" The huntsman span around and began to make his way into the rundown-looking pub. His back turned to Jaune, he spoke anyway, "Maybe it's not that bad of an idea. Could use a refill, anyway."
A phantom of a proud smile crept onto Jaune's features. Eyes shut, he strutted – following the heavy cape that flittered behind the older man. "I knew you couldn't resist a drink."
/-/
Was it racist that they followed a faunus into a bar with an animal-themed name in order to get information for a primarily faunus-based terrorist organization?
Yes. It probably was. But did that make it wrong?
…
Yeah. Yeah it probably did. However, Jaune help but feel good about himself despite the questionable stereotypes both he and his teacher placed upon a man who still had the potential to be completely innocent of any knowledge. Speaking of his teacher…
Jaune's eyes floated to the side, seeing Vul look completely in his element. A shot of some golden-brown liquid was hovering inside of a small glass as the man seemed completely disinterested in his surroundings. It didn't look as though he was making a move any time soon – the faunus they came in to investigate taking his sweet time ordering from the menu placed in front of him.
Other patrons around tables cheered and jeered at each other, effing and jeffing like there was no tomorrow. They cat-called the waitress who was taking the attention extremely well, performing her job with professional skill. Jaune could see why, she was mature-looking with brown and wavy hair and her skirt was way too short.
It reminded him of Pearl, for some reason.
Dark-blue orbs gave a last scan of the place. Nothing more out of the ordinary. Nobody even questioned why he was in here; he couldn't even drink. Not that anyone knew that – but it still brought up the point that Jaune didn't look old enough to drink. At least he didn't think so.
The teen didn't know whether to be thankful or concerned for the locals' casual dismissal of underage drinking. Notably, Jaune couldn't see any other faunus apart from the man they came in to keep an eye on and…
Slowly, Jaune swivelled on the stool he was sat on to face forward once again.
The bartender himself.
Unlike the brown-haired faunus sat a few seats down, the bartender's hair was completely grey but had no signs of old age on his face. Probably just genetics, Jaune thought. Furthermore, his attire was more business-like. Talk about stereotypes all you want, but he was a textbook example of how all media seemed to portray a bartender.
White dress shirt, black buttoned waistcoat, midnight bow-tie and cleaning a glass diligently with a cloth – despite it being seemingly spotless already. All of it rounded off with a pair of drooping dog ears on his grey head of hair.
On the other end of the spectrum, the faunus reading the menu was dressed casually – one might even say raggedly. A white t-shirt, torn in areas around the arm, and a pair of dark, faded jeans that have seen better days. Not a bit of stubble on his face, though. Jaune thought he looked quite young.
Without much warning, the tailed faunus began to speak, "Hey, 'keep!" The bartender shifted his attention to the man. "Mind if I place an order?"
"Yeah, sure. What do you want?" he responded, placing the glass back into a rack and draping his cloth across a nearby handle.
Jaune flinched slightly as the man next to him swiped the shot of whisky and downed it with relative ease. He also had a shot of alcohol on the countertop, rippling slightly from the force of Vul slamming the glass back down with rough sigh.
While he did drink from his mentor's flask that one night after coming to terms with what happened four months ago, it more so an `in the moment` kind of thing. Jaune didn't regret it at all, but the brown fluid in the glass didn't really hold much appeal to him right now.
The man continued his order, "Could I get the house steak with a pint of beer? Extra foam." Pausing, the brown-haired faunus eyes shifted left and right. Coughing once, he pulled something from his waistline – held by his jeans – and began to slide it over the wooden counter. "And, uh… you heard about the new recipe around town?"
"Well," Vul sighed again. "Looks like that's my cue."
With enough casual indifference to make his sister Coral seem like she cared about the education she dropped out of, the red-eyed huntsman picked up the shot glass and tossed it behind him. It landed with a resounding clutter of crashes, pieces of glass scattering in the bartender's line of sight.
"Hey-!" The bartender tried – and failed – to complete his sentence as Vul sauntered behind the other faunus and placed an arm around his shoulder.
It was quite obvious that he wasn't expecting it; his brown tail spiked upwards at the contact.
His mentor's face leaned in close to their target and, if the little chat he gave to Jaune back outside was anything to go by, the stench of whisky was probably drifting straight into the poor faunus' nose. "Ian, is that you? Man, what are you doing in a place like this?"
"D-do I know you?" The sheer confusion and terror in his voice would make Jaune feel real bad if he looked back on this ordeal with the knowledge that this man was actually innocent.
"'Course you do! You don't remember your old pal, Crow?"
Jaune closed his eyes and shook his head. His mentor's acting was believable enough, but he couldn't help but feel as though he should be cringing at the sight.
Also `Crow`? What kind of stupid alias was that? Jaune knew Vul both knew `Vul` wasn't even his real name; why didn't he just say that instead?
"I-I don't know any-"
Cutting off the tailed man with without difficulty, Vul dragged him to his feet and flashed a few cards in front of the barkeep. A generous amount, Jaune could tell. "For the drinks, the glass… and a little extra."
The grey-haired faunus eyed the lien doggishly – wide-eyed and unbelieving. A second later, his eyebrows narrowed as he nodded quickly, eager to get his hands on some additional cash. Jaune didn't think he was even getting paid minimum wage, even with how he was dressed.
"That's what I like to hear." The huntsman (term used loosely; Jaune just saw him bribe a man by the gods' sake) slapped the plastic cards on the counter and slipped his hand – scraping it lightly on the wood. "Come on, Ian," Vul said cheerfully, "let's catch up outside…"
`Ian` looked like he wanted to refuse, but had no chance to as he was hauled up and out of the pub by the other man. A swagger in his step, Vul's cape swung left and right as he flew between tables and patrons alike. Hell, he even winked at the barmaid as he paraded his way out.
People probably forgot he was even there.
Jaune looked to the glass in front of him for a final time. He could smell the contents from here. Shrugging, he wrapped his fingers around the small glass and copied Vul's movement. A sharp burning sensation ate at his throat – the same as it did that night.
With overwhelming self-control, the blonde managed to save face and resist the urge to cough, but the way his face twisted would have made his thoughts on the drink obvious. Shirking off the expression, Jaune readjusted his backpack and turned to the bartender, who was counting the plastic cards he received happily.
But his grey-ish eyes darted across the counter in front of him, as if searching for something that was no longer there. Poor guy. He was probably looking for that white and red mask the other faunus was trying to give him.
Blue eyes shifted towards the exit.
The same one that Vul was casually slipping into his back pocket as he pushed through the front doors to leave.
Jaune attempted to ignore the lingering taste of bitterness hanging from his tongue. He wasn't successful. "And I guess that's my cue," he said, following in his mentor's footsteps – albeit with less grace.
Ignoring the loud shouts of the older men drinking their troubles away, the teen managed to escape the building without much hassle. He was greeted to a darkened night sky, stars shining and street lamps being lit. It seems as though they had spent more time in there than he initially thought.
Vul, however, was nowhere to be seen. Like he was whisked away by the light breeze under the shattered moon. That… was a problem.
If I was a drunken madman with questionable morals trying to interrogate a potentially guiltless victim, where would I run off to?
Crossing his arms, Jaune shut his eyes as he let the question provoke his thought. The darkness that came over his vision was calming, soothing and helped him to concentrate on finding the answer. Wait… darkness! He slapped a hand against his forehead. How was it not obvious?
The deep and dark alleyways he had once been pulled into for a secretive chat with his mentor were an obvious go-to for interrogation you wouldn't want any member of the general public seeing. Draping the hand down his face, Jaune once more shuffled the strap of his backpack as he prepared to search every nook and cranny of the shit-stained backstreets of the town.
Not many people seemed to be out right now. Those who were appeared to be heading home for the night, either they didn't have plans or they just wanted a break from the hustle of village life. Hell, there weren't any drunk drifters rocking about trying to find out which bin would be their bed for the night. It was the perfect time to do some ethically ambiguous questioning.
Part of Jaune wondered if Vul did that on purpose. Nah, that would be insane – that guy was good but he didn't seem the type of guy to make the stars align like that on his own accord.
Distant chatter prevented the teen from concluding his train of thought. His boots shifted his weight, jogging through the streets at a brisk pace to get an idea on the origin of the sound.
"I'll ask again Ian." No doubt about it, that was Vul. And his voice had a tint of unsung wrath which only added to the intimidation factor of his naturally gravelly voice. "What the hell do you know about the White Fang?"
Jaune came to a halt at the narrow entryway, being met with the lamentable sight of a man in a position he himself was in earlier in the evening. Turning his head around him cautiously, the blond came to the conclusion that he wouldn't be seen dipping into the damp corridor of mossy cobble.
Appearing behind Vul, the huntsman made no movement to show he was surprised he was here. "There's nobody out there," he informed. The greying man was free to do what he wanted and while Jaune felt a little bad – he placed his faith in his mentor's judgement.
"Who's this?" Ian spat venomously, "Your little lackey?" He obviously didn't remember the literal run-in they had.
Grunting powerfully, Vul's grip on the man's collar tightened – following it up with a hefty slam on a nearby wall. Jaune winced as he heard something akin to bone breaking as the faunus crashed against the stone behind him.
"Shut the hell up. The only person you need to be concerned about is me. You can add yourself to that list if you don't answer my questions." The crimson-eyed man whispered with a brutal tone despite his volume. "Where the hell are the White Fang working from, Ian?"
Still recovering from the impact, the brown-haired man managed to open a single eye. "M-my name isn't `Ian`…"
"You going to tell me what it actually is?"
"I'd never tell human scum like you!" His response proved to be the wrong one as Vul shoved him mightily against the brick yet again. "Gah!"
"Then your fucking name is Ian, alright?" Slam! "What are the White Fang planning around here, damn it?!"
While intensely menacing, Vul's words didn't seem to be getting him much farther than he already was. "I'd never betray my brothers…"
"Fucking radicals… they keep recruiting them younger, too." His ivory teeth were grit as his brows sharpened. Vul snapped his head towards Jaune, eyes dim but shining with an undiscernible glint. "Kid, get over here." He was confused at first, but his mentor didn't let the feeling last for more than a second or two. "I said get over here."
Exercising caution, the boy did as he was instructed. Each step was slow and wary – however, it was inevitable that he would get to his destination. There were only two steps between them in the first place.
Vul twisted around, changing his grip on the faunus so that one palm was on his shoulder before kicking his legs apart and pushing him to his knees. Jaune had to take a step back so that he wasn't in the way of the practised manoeuvre.
"Hold him in place."
"What-?"
"I said – hold him in place."
With even more hesitance, Jaune placed a hand where Vul showed him – the other twisting his arm behind the man's back to keep him down. He yelped, almost making the teen release his grip in surprise; the firm hand on his teacher prevented that exact thing from happening. Even with it, the action didn't calm the nervous quake in his legs.
"Giving me over to a kid?" Ian managed, sounding like it took all of his energy just to speak. "Big mistake." As Vul waked to stand in front of the downed man, the faunus attempted to break free of Jaune's iron grip – expecting it to be anything but. "What the-?"
Aura. It was a useful tool if you knew how to conduct it well. A month or two of constant Aura training helped to regulate and finely control how and where to direct it and what it could help you do. Things like chopping through Boarbatusk's outer armour or taking a shotgun shell to the face.
Things like holding down a defeated man for his execution.
And while Jaune doubted that was the case here, the feeling persisted in spite of his inner reason.
Ian growled, "It doesn't matter, anyway… you have no proof! Once I get out of here, you'll be finished! Who are the people going to believe – the ruthless huntsman and his brainwashed sidekick or the oppressed faunus they beat up?"
"Proof?" Vul laughed, fishing around his back for something. His weapon? No, he couldn't have been. Then what? "If you wanted proof, all you had to do…" His had flicked forward, ringed fingers clasping around the edge of something. "Was ask."
Jaune couldn't hide his confusion; the man he held down seemingly dropped his struggle for a moment. It was the same ornament Vul swiped from the bar, "A mask?" It was white, patterned with red and small slits where the eyes would be. It reminded the blond of a Grimm.
"Where'd you get that?" He barely managed to squeeze out, "I thought I gave it to-"
"Oh," Vul cut him off, stressing the word like he was explaining to a child. "So this belonged to you, then? Huh." The man twisted it back to face him, eyes narrowing as he inspected the surface. "They say a new cell of the White Fang has been creeping about…" Flipping the mask so that he held it between his thumb and the side of his index finger, he gave the other two present a better view of it.
"Now, the White Fang's been wearing masks for a while now… ever since Sienna Khan took over. Suddenly getting labelled as a terrorist organization makes you want to distance yourself… hide yourself – your true self." Crimson eyes pierced through Jaune, even though they were aimed at the faunus on his knees below him. "And I don't really blame you for it. But…" Vul made the `t` click against his teeth balefully.
"There's been a couple of sightings of White Fang members with these new masks," he explained. "White masks with red markings."
Jaune couldn't say he noticed. He never much payed attention to the news on things like terrorists; it just didn't interest him that much. Faunus deserved equality, but he didn't really agree with the directional seemed the organization was heading.
"What's your point?" The faunus spat once more, regaining the strength to attempt to shake off Jaune's grip – to no avail, of course.
"My point is, these members in particular have been reported to be more violent. More unpredictable. Random." Vul took a step closer, the sound of leather meeting stone echoing in the tapered corridor. "Sienna organizes raids on SDC facilities – mines and plants. Understandable, in a way. She would want to throw a wrench into, what she sees to be, the lead oppressor of her kind." Another step. Vul was right in front of the faunus, leaning down so that the two were face to face once more.
"But people like you have been attacking frontier villages – towns…" Jaune swallowed, thick saliva struggling to go down his throat. "Innocents. All for seemingly no good reason. Interestingly enough, you've also been trying to cover them up as Grimm invasions."
Vul leant back, looking down onto the faunus. Ian himself was audible hissing through his teeth. "What are you getting at?"
"What's with all the questions? Have you forgotten? I'm the one in control here," his mentor said with never before seen rancour and ruthlessness. Jaune had never seen the man like this before.
For the past four months, it was just them two on the road. Training, getting into unbelievable situations that Jaune would have thought impossible and the odd outburst of emotion (mostly from himself). But, throughout all that, Vul was…
A general douchebag and extremely condescending.
…
But never so frightening.
The huntsman would insult, jeer, laugh, instruct. But he never did seem to threaten, intimidate and expose. Vul would normally look as though he could barely hold himself together. But here, it seemed like he was about to tear of this man's head to search for the answers he wanted. And Jaune knew full well that he could do that if he so wanted.
This whole expedition, he's been on edge. For the few days that they travelled to get here, he would insist on being on watch all night – not getting a single wink of sleep while Jaune rested for hours. And he didn't think it was because his mentor suddenly had a change of heart. They marched and marched, to the point where Jaune said he could feel the muscles in his legs tearing.
A quick check from Vul revealed that they were, in fact, ripping apart. Vul's pace was too intense for him to keep up with, while the man himself seemed to be fine. The madman even said he would carry him the rest of the way – but Jaune adamantly refused, fearing he wouldn't be able to live it down for the rest of his life.
In the end, they spent half of the day resting as the teen used his focused his Aura flow to repair his damaged tissue. It wasn't all bad, Vul caught up on some sleep as Jaune was on watch best as he could with unusable legs.
To Vul's credit, the faunus considered something before he snapped his neck upwards to meet the crimson gaze of his aggressor, "I'm not telling you anything."
Humming nonchalantly, Vul started to turn around, stuffing the mask back into his pants. Only to explode back with force as he forced his first straight through the faunus' face. Spittle flew through the air – Jaune's grip on the man unable to hold firm, the punch launched the man they called Ian to the side and against the wall he was against earlier.
Jaune stood still in shock, unable to tell what just happened. He couldn't even tell if the red splattering across his vision was from Vul's cape. Because Jaune didn't think it was.
Ian grunted in pain, trying to pick himself up but failing to, instead succeeding in vomiting up a pool of murky scarlet. Jaune wasn't sure if he could even tell Vul the answers he wanted to know at this point, but the thought proved incorrect as he babbled, "F-fuck…"
Fuck was an accurate way of describing how the boy felt about this whole thing. Weakly, his arm outstretched halfway to the man who taught him everything, "Vul, what are you-?"
Vul brushed past him, sparing him a side-glance graciously and bore witness to his apprentice's face. Pupils trembling amidst the sea of wary sapphire and a mouth open – as if wanting to say more, but his heart couldn't bring the words out.
Grabbed by the scuff of his shirt collar yet again, Ian was propped up only by the fabric with no other support as he dangled feebly. Streams of blood were running down the sides of his lips and dripping uselessly onto the stone below. Grey below was tinted in red.
He winced and groaned, but Vul pressed on, "Tell me who's running all of it! Tell me!" Incomprehensible babbling, all of it building up to the faunus spitting on the huntsman's face – just under the eye – as he hacked and coughed up whatever he had left.
Just like that, everything became silent. It was daunting how Vul took the action – no sign of flinching or rising anger past the levels he had already shown. With a single hand, he kept the man suspended in the air as he wiped away the saliva with the back of his opposite forearm.
Red eyes darted to Jaune, causing him to subconsciously pull back. "Kid," he started, making the teen dread whatever he could have said next. "Break his arm."
The dread was well placed as Jaune suddenly found fragments of courage floating around his ego to fight back, "No."
No sign of annoyance, no sign of irritation, no sign of surprise; Vul only gave him an impartial stare as he questioned. "What, you can't? I taught you how to weeks back. Break his arm."
"No as in I won't, Vul!" Now that got a reaction. A raised eyebrow was all it was, but considering the stone-faced demeanour he was putting on for the past few minutes – it was enough for Jaune. "I'm not going to harm him; don't you think you've done enough? Look at him, he can barely even talk!" His voice cracked as he shouted with passion, no care for who would hear him.
But he knew that nobody was coming, he made sure of that himself before involving himself.
Vul scoffed silently, his soul-stabbing eyes redirecting onto the faunus he gripped, "No, this isn't enough. It'll be enough once he tells me what I want to know. Don't you know that this cell of the White Fang is probably planning an attack at this very moment? It could be on this very village. Everything would go up in flames." The next words came silently, like phantoms in the cold darkness under the broken pieces of the moon. "I thought you didn't want that to happen again…"
Red eyes widened by a fraction of a centimetre. "Do you?"
Jaune's face fell, every expression of defiance ripped from his features as he struggled to perceive what was even in front of him anymore. Fire, blood, anguish, destruction, death, Grimm – everything tearing away the happiness from him, from everyone.
Lyn's tattered sweater, bloodied and dirty. Pearl's begging face, eyes flooded with tears containing the faith he placed in Jaune – a boy she had only just met.
It was enough.
Vul was right. He didn't want that to happen again. Jaune didn't want that to happen to anyone ever again. Emotion drained from his face, sapphire eyes in a haze as the hesitance in his steps vanished into the same place his morals lie. This is fine, Jaune told himself. I'm helping people. I'm stopping innocents from losing everything to these monsters.
That is, if everything Vul was saying was true. Of course, there was a chance he was lying; there was a chance for everything. But the blond knew he had no reason to – that man was a huntsman working to protect Remnant. Vul knew what he was doing. But did Jaune?
Yes. No. He wanted to think so.
His gloves gripped one of the faunus' arms – he didn't even have the strength to move his tail as it dangled limply from behind him. One dragged down, wrapping around the wrist, while the heel of his other palm was against the man's elbow. "H-hey…" he spoke weakly, "You aren't actually going to…" His brown eyes widened as much as they could – head turning to meet the teen.
Jaune was crying. "Just tell him what he wants to know…" he begged – voice wavering. "I don't want to do this." Streams of crimson around the faunus' mouth dulled to the bright falling of tears around the teen's eyes. But despite his words, his hands were like steel vices on the poor man's arm. He didn't even have Aura.
Grimacing, he gave his final answer, "I-I can't."
A ghost of a white radiance flashed for half of a second around Jaune's hands.
Crrraashhk! The brittle bone within stood no chance against the Aura enhanced might of the teenager's strength.
"GAHAAAH!" He jolted his head forward in pain, more spittle was sent flying forward as he foamed at the mouth. "Gah! Guh… erk!" His screams and shouts rang in Jaune's ear and made his brain rattle – forcing him to take a step back.
It was just so… easy. Why was it so easy? He looked at his hands for the answer, thinking he could find them there.
The faunus' arm was bent at an unnatural angle, contorted as the elbow conformed inwards in a way it wasn't supposed to. While the bone didn't piece the man's skin, it was undeniable that his arm completely shattered thanks to Jaune.
Unfazed, Vul shook him with no remorse, "You ready to tell us yet?" Silence, if you excluded the pained gasps of the poor guy in his grasp. "No? Break the other one."
Jaune didn't want to. Luckily, he didn't have to. "W-wait! I'll talk!" After his outburst, the faunus gasped for air, almost as if he expelled everything out of his lungs at the end of his breath. "Please… just stop…"
A smirk graced Vul's features, to Jaune's surprise. "Now that's what I like to here. Answer my questions and you get to live – hell, we'll even treat that arm of yours." And, even in the face of Ian's compliancy, the huntsman still gave him a solid shake. "First question, who's running this circus?"
"A-Adam," he squeaked between gasps for air, "Adam Taurus… he's one of Sienna' right hands. T-that's all I know, I swear!"
"Adam Taurus…" Vul's head tilted to the side as he muttered, "I'll have to run that through." Snapping his attention back violently. Not as violent as he made Jaune to be, though. "Where are you operating from? What do plan on doing?"
Each shout had an explosive kickback, having Ian recoil as far as he could within the clutches of the bigger man. He conceded like he said he would, "The main camp is just a few klicks northeast from here… this village was too close; we couldn't risk getting found out!"
"So what? You were just going to raze the entire place to the ground?"
"That was his plan… the bartender, the mask – it was a message. I'm just a messenger!" Jaune felt a spike in the atmosphere, head shooting upwards to look at the faunus, who smiled a bloody grin – white teeth stained and patterned like the mask he claimed to own. "You're too late anyway, you human bastards! Adam's going to lead us all to victory and there's nothing you can do to stop him!"
As if on cue, a soul-rocking vibration shook both of the people still standing. Jaune rocked back and forth, attempting to regain balance and only succeeding by pushing himself against one of the near walls. Vul was shocked, but nothing more as he looked behind him – still gripping at the faunus' collar.
Looking in the same direction, Jaune's eyes quivered at the sheer sight. Just from their narrowed peripheral, a huge cloud of smoky orange was raised high in the sky – lighting up the night with its hue. He continued to watch in horrified awe while the huntsman turned back to the faunus, rage blasting through his stony mask.
"What the hell was that?! What's going on?" Vul roared.
"You can't stop it…" He whispered manically, energy from who knows where resurging through him. "No matter what you plan on doing, this entire place is going to be wiped out! Adam is the one who will finally rescue faunuskind from the depths you humans pushed us in! He'll be the one-!"
Another explosion, but in the form of a right fist to the jaw, as Vul hammered his knuckles into the side of the unexpecting man's mouth. Dark red flickered at his fists for a brief second, but Jaune could tell that this time it wasn't blood. It was just so easy.
"Fucking extremist bastards…" He cursed. Vul turned to Jaune, who in turn managed to tear his gaze back to the pools of crimson within his mentor's eyes. "Kid-" For everything he's done, it was surprising to see the man hesitate, but he paused in his speech before he continued with vigor and charisma you wouldn't normally see out of him. "We need to get out there and find out what's going on."
Jaune's eyes widened, unbelieving in what the huntsman was insinuating, "You mean you want me to-"
"Yes." No hesitation, causing Jaune to flinch back at the intensity within the single word. Vul's head darted back and drew his weapon; shifting into a greatsword, he lugged it over his shoulder and whirled back, letting his cape fly over Jaune's vision.
This was insane. Did he just expect Jaune to go out there, what was he even supposed to do? His voice was tinged in uncertainty and fear, "Then why don't we go together?" Jaune reasoned.
Vul considered it, before dropping his head and turning his back fully on Jaune. "…No."
"What-? Are you-? Why?" There was no hiding how terrified he was. Even with everything he had been through in the months, this could have been actually ended in his death. An actual terrorist attack? And this time Jaune was stuck in the middle of it – being told to charge into no-man's land.
"We need to cover more ground and find out what exactly going on." Jaune could tell that wasn't the real reason. It wasn't very hard to, but it wasn't like Vul was trying anyway. Lowering his voice, the crimson-eyed huntsman mumbled under his breath, "It's probably best you don't stay near me right now – for your own good."
Screams – panicked and wild – reverberated from the streets across the exit of the alleyway. Were they in trouble? Were they dying? Was it Grimm, or was it-
"…What if I die?"
The question just came out. He didn't mean it to. Jaune was supposed to be strong now. Vul turned halfway once again, his own glare widening at the pitiful sight of a boy – way out of his depth and shaking like a leaf.
"You won't."
Those two words were all he said before he dashed out of the strait, damp alleyway in a flash of worn red and silver.
Just like that, the world seemed to twist and turn – senses returning in a confusing blend of emotions, sights, smells and sounds. Bursting out into a fit of wheezes, Jaune realized he had been holding his breath for gods know how long. Collapsing to his knees, the boy grasped at his chest as beads of sweat fell from his brow and splashing feebly below.
Breathe in, breathe out. It was so hard now. He had to get a grasp on himself. He had to stop something terrible from happening again. He had the chance to. All he had to do was-
"Why didn't you save me, Jaune?" The voice came out of nowhere, but it came from beside him.
His breathing stopped, recognizing the tone of voice – even if it was marked differently, in a way. Neck groaning to the side, he didn't want to see what he was expecting to see. Thankfully, he didn't, laying eyes on the unconscious body of the faunus Vul had brutalized. But the voice remained.
"Why didn't you save me?"
Fearing to even say it, Jaune spoke what he already knew, "Lyn?"
"Why didn't you save me, Jaune? I trusted you." It came from the body of the faunus. How was that even possible? Jaune began to crawl weakly towards the fallen figure – the origin of the sound.
As he slowly put one arm in front of the other, Jaune faltered – his arm unable to get a stable hold making him fall onto his forearm. One arm became two and the teen was flat on the ground Wrestling with himself to get closer, Jaune was now essentially dragging himself across the wet floor to get closer to the body.
"I tried…" Jaune pleaded, hidden emotion that he buried over the months resurfacing and escaping from him. "I tried so hard, but- but I'm stronger now! I promise!" A hand extended itself to the shoulder of the lying body, barely glancing over the shoulder until the corpse erupted backwards to face hopeless boy.
And, like that, Jaune regretted doing so.
A face, mangled beyond belief, stared him down with empty eye-sockets. Like black holes, they seemed to suck in his attention and replace it with the everlasting impression of fear as the skin began to melt and the red and pink flesh beneath began to show. The features were falling to the ground in an agonizing and horrifying display of skin-toned colours, having Jaune reel back – staggered in shock.
The amalgamation didn't let him. Its arms burst forward and wrapped itself onto Jaune's shoulders, pulling him closer as weakness overcame the teen. "Why didn't you save me?" It asked. It repeated. "Why didn't you save me Jaune, I waited and waited. You failed me."
A voice that didn't belong to the face, begging and begging while the mixture of sounds began to distort deeper and deeper. The trickling seepage of flesh began to remold itself into a face that did belong. "Why?" It asked, eyes pricking with tears.
"Please… please! I wanted to so badly – I tried so hard! Lyn, please…" Jaune was losing himself. He had already started crying long before he got so close – the tears mixing with the sweat. It was impossible to tell what was what.
Her brown hair glossed over her beautiful eyes as she tilted her head.
…
Black scribbles, dark as coal, wrote over her face. Eyes were slashed out and bleeding and her mouth was upended and ripped along her cheek as the slices of black completed their deformation in the blink of an eye.
"NOT HARD ENOUGH."
Shooting upright, Jaune Arc began to pant heavily – sweat running down his face like a waterfall. He slapped a hand against his face, feeling the calluses wipe away the wetness on his forehead. The sheets on his bed were dangerously warm and Jaune himself was boiling underneath his clothing.
He had half a mind to remove it, but stopped himself – wary of the consequences surrounding doing so in a room filled with teenage girls. Jaune settled for removing the covers and tugging at the collar of his black shirt to let the air pass through and around his body. It was too dark to see, but Jaune felt like that helped to soothe him anyway.
It was a nightmare. Of course it was. That never happened on that day. Lyn wasn't there. But it did happen. Jaune shook his head lightly, eyes shut. It was also something he didn't want to remember right now. It's in the past, he told himself. Let it go, Jaune.
Rolling the covers into a tightly wound tube of cloth, the blond tucked it just below his bed – making sure not to hit his head on the bunk above him as he managed to pull himself back in. That was something he was too tired to even address at this moment in time.
Breathing in deeply, Jaune exhaled slowly to calm himself. It was a dream. No need to get so worked. Tomorrow was the first day, after all. His first day at Beacon Academy. That made him feel better. He internally scoffed.
"Stop lying to yourself, Jaune," he whispered – voice guilty and blond locks shaking.
Managing to lie back down onto his pillow, Jaune twisted and turned to get into a comfortable position. He prayed that when he was once more embraced by the cold clutches of slumber, he wouldn't have been subjected to that false reality yet again.
The gods weren't that cruel, were they?
Yeah, right.
Ending Notes:
Hohoho… that happened. That definitely happened.
I want to expand on the broader ideas that I had initially planned for the story. So far, this Jaune has been relatively similar to canon Jaune in most actions and behaviors – excluding his fighting skill. What is Jaune really like as a person? What did he go through in that year?
You can't expect it to be all sunshine in rainbows with a man like Qrow, can you? Nah, not a chance in hell.
I'll let you lot come to your own conclusions surrounding that, hopefully this E/N can provoke your thoughts a little. There were a couple of other subtler nods within the chapter too, in regards to future plot points – once again, that's all I'm saying on that front.
This kind of writing is just so interesting though. I hope that I managed to convey the emotions correctly, since I wanted the scene to be powerful and disorientating at the same time. The only other time I wrote a shadow of something like this was in the very first chapter itself.
We'll see if the chance to write like this ever comes up again, though.
Next time on Under the Wing, we'll get back into the present and open it up to see what's in store for our hero, Jaune. Heh…
End it all.
Thank you for reading this chapter!