Under the Wing of a Black Bird

by MyxCryx

What was it to be a hero? Jaune thought he knew. But the glory, the legends, were but illusions to his naïve vision - all of it burnt to ash at his own powerlessness. With Beacon starting in a mere year and his best shot being this drunken heap of bad luck, an alternative was preferred. Seriously. Anything would be better than Remnant's biggest kick me sign.

15. Chapter 15: Blackbirds of a Feather

Author's Notes:

Hey everyone! Shul here.

New chapter of Under the Wing pretty early. You know, it's strange not writing something for two or so months then being able to chug through 3 chapters pretty comfortably. By the time of posting, 16 is drafted up and just needs proofing by yours truly before I go through with that too.

Last chapter we had Jaune and Cardin face off, ending with an explosive declaration of Jaune's views on the state of evil and his general ideas about the concept altogether. Evil is everywhere, even when you can't see it. Is he wrong? Maybe. We can only see with time. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter thoroughly as we eventually get back to him.

You may have forgotten but last time we saw Qrow, he was taking out a couple of White Fang stragglers, coming across some strange equipment for dust extraction. He later received a call from Ozpin concerning a 'favour' in the form of a text to a certain someone. It didn't end well for the person in question.

Not much to say this time, other than enjoy the chapter.

---

"Yo. Little birdie told me that there's something going on in school. Would appreciate you doing a little work for me. I spy with my little eye, something gathering from shadows. Might not be available. Free to go to head. –Crow"

Some might have said it was vague. Qrow would have said they were dumb.

"Hope Oz knows what he's doing…" Eh, who was he kidding. Oz was by no means him. If that meant anything, it surely meant his concerns were unfounded.

Amidst the twittering of the birds and the calm rustle of the leaves, Qrow shoved his scroll into the depths of his trousers and sighed – perched up on a branch with one leg dangling loosely off the side as he looked over the various crates of equipment that he had just rummaged through. Yeah, he'd have to burn that all later. Thankfully, he didn't plan on staying here any longer so the smoke that would start pluming up wouldn't give up his position to any more of the red-masks in the area. Hell, maybe there was something or someone worse out there looking for him.

There was a strange flapping noise that was followed by the shaking of leaves.

"Hey."

Something like that.

Qrow groaned audibly, running a hand across from the top of his forehead all the way down to the stubble on his chin. In response, the female voice seemed condescending in tone. "Aw, don't be like that little bro. You're never like this when you come to see me."

"The difference is consent, Ray. Consent." Slumping further onto the trunk of the tree, still splayed out on a larger than average branch. He didn't bother turning around, he knew who was there and – quite frankly – Qrow could do without seeing his older sister's face, much less that stupid mask of hers.

"That's funny," Raven Branwen laughed in the most un-entertained way possible. "I don't seem to recall any consent from my side all those times you came to 'visit'."

His leg seemed to swing harder off of the branch as Qrow's expression came flat. "Well, it's Ozpin. You know how he is."

"I do." A strange venom laced her voice as the air between the two siblings seemed to get heavier. "That's why I did what I did." And while Qrow couldn't see it, he knew his own sister well enough to know what kind of face she was putting on at the time.

Seconds passed with only the birds filling the lack of noise between. Eventually, Qrow spoke up – voice lacking the usual spunk and wittiness. "Not now, Ray. I doubt you came all the way to see me just to bring that up."

"Yeah." Was her response, lacking as it was. There was a click. Her mask, Qrow thought. It was proceeded by a rustling of branch somewhere behind him and a sigh that – surprisingly – didn't come from him. "Nicholas was heading out the other day."

In a flash, Qrow span around to try find his sister while screaming, "Wait?! For real?!" The motion off-threw his own balance on the thin natural platform beneath him. At the very last moment, it was his torn cape that caught the branch and acted as his saving limb. Despite his precarious situation, Qrow still had the gall to snap his eyes to meet the unsurprised crimson gaze of Raven who had her arms folded and a leg crossed over another. "You aren't just saying that to fuck with me, are you?"

The branch that his cape was hanging onto made a peculiar cracking sound.

"Ah, shit-baskets." Were the man's last words before plummeting down onto the floor and landing with a painful thud. Damn, that hurt…"

A more elegant thud came down next to him and if that didn't piss him off, the voice that followed and the words that were said definitely did. "You realise you can turn into a bird, right?"

Shaking his head rapidly left and right like a dog might have to dry itself off, Qrow's mouth could be seen repeating what Raven said as he brushed off the grass and dirt that ended up on his clothes. "Oh, I can? Thanks, I didn't notice. You say it like it's easy…" The last part was muttered under his breath.

"Fucking dick," Raven spat to the side, mask under her arm while the other was on her hip cockily.

"But wait," the huntsman interrupted – ignoring the violent insult that was sent hurtling in his direction. "You said Nicholas was heading to Beacon – you weren't lying about that, were you?"

Drawing her head back to face Qrow, Raven couldn't exactly meet her brother's eyes as she rolled her own. "Well, I didn't say he was headed to Beacon…" She darted her red orbs back to her brother, only to see him pointing a finger with his eyebrows raised. Qrow wasn't exactly having shit right now, she concluded before sighing and resigning. "Yes, he's headed to Beacon."

In a theatrical display of gestures, the greying huntsman threw his head up and over and slapped his hands to the side of his legs while cursing. "Fuck."

"Come on, you can't tell me that you didn't expect this," Raven said, speaking to Qrow's back as he seemed to grip his chin and mutter to himself. She took a step forward and continued, "Nicholas wouldn't just give up on his family unless he knew for sure they were dead." She seemed then to realise something deeper in that statement; quite evidently as the long-haired ex-huntress turned to the side in search of something she couldn't see.

Her head came back soon enough as Qrow turned around to explain himself. "I did. I just… not this soon."

"He knows Beacon starts around this time of the year. Give him some credit."

"Oh, yeah, like you? We all know that if Taiyang wasn't around-" Qrow froze at the sight of Raven's eyes staring daggers that cut through his Aura and dug into his skin. "Nevermind. Look, I knew that I would have to deal with Nick eventually but it's too early."

/-/

Somewhere on the western side of the Mistrali coast, a lone man clad in a thick navy blue fur coat had his back against the wall, staring at a distant horizon filled with shimmering waves that reflected the light of the sun.

That same man sneezed quite violently before rubbing his wrist over his nose.

"That must be Amber…" He came to the conclusion. She was undoubtedly awake right now, and - despite her definite concern – Nicholas found it sweet that she would be thinking of him even when he couldn't make much time for his daughters. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon, honey."

Back with your big brother.

/-/

Raven didn't seem to buy it as she rose an eyebrow. "What about Oz? I get you – but Oz? That old bastard always has something under his sleeve," she sneered.

The younger sibling seemed to jerk slightly before bringing both of his hands to his face and pressing his fingers together before taking a breath through his nose. "About that… I may have told him that I had it all under control so that he would give me less assignments so I could deal with the kid."

It was Raven's turn to sigh dramatically, exhaling the word: "Idiot." In the same breath. "So what?" The woman pushed. "You know he'll burn down Beacon to get that same kid back, right? Not that I care, but…"

"Yeah…" He sounded defeated. Qrow put both of his hands to his face and walked to a nearby tree before slamming his forehead onto it and ignoring the multiple acorns that conked onto his head. They weren't even in season. "Oz is going to kill me."

"Not if Jolly ol' Nick gets to him first." There was visible surprise on Raven's face as she heard her brother speak the surest of probably anything else she had ever hear him say in his life.

"He won't."

After a pause, the long-haired tribe leader slumped her shoulders and spoke quietly. "Guess you're right. But hey, look at it this way: don't show up – don't have to deal with it. Leave it to Ozpin to clean your mess up, like always." Back in the day, that was what Qrow was known for. A great agent and a horrible janitor.

Qrow seemed to breath in and hold his breathe. It came out eventually, and in the same breath of air he said, "You know I can't." There was a flicker of roses and white in the corner of Raven's eye that disappeared into the thick of the forest before she had time to confirm it.

Another pause before Raven scoffed. "Guess you're right." For what felt like the three-hundredth time, silence came over the both of them as Qrow still had his head resting on the bark of a tree while Raven watched with her arms crossed, speaking only to his back.

"Why… why are you telling me this, Raven?" His sister released a powerful groan that came straight from the back of her throat, causing Qrow to turn around in surprise. "What?"

"Sorry," she said – clutching the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "Nicholas literally just said the same thing to me… I don't even know how long ago."

"Wait a second, you spoke to him?" There was another groan but Raven's arm dropped to her side weakly as she faced the canopy of the forest. It wasn't always that his sister would act like this, so Qrow could help but let out a small chuckle. "Why?"

"Because it was fun, I guess? Because I could? I dunno, alright?"

Leaning back into the tree he had slammed his head into minutes earlier, Qrow shut his eyes and mumbled to himself. "…'Cuz you could, you say? I guess we're more similar than I thought."

There was a sound of fabric ruffling beside him and when the huntsman opened his eyes, he was greeted to a Raven who was in a position similar to him by an adjacent tree. Looking at him like some sort of insect, she growled, "The hell are you smiling at?"

"Nothing." Shoving his hands into his pockets, Qrow's red eyes trailed upwards and - after a second - Raven followed suite.

And for the three-hundred and first time, silence came over them as the two Branwen twins stared up into the canopy and admired the way that the rays of light seemed to gracefully flow into the holes between the leaves. Despite how it may seem, the Branwen twins didn't hate each other. They couldn't. They grew up in the same environment and experienced the same hardships, more often than not with one another. They were siblings, after all (as much as they didn't want to admit it).

Raven and Qrow were simply two siblings that disagreed. One wanted to carry on the will of the one they lost while the other thinks that they should instead root out the source of what caused them to lose it in the first place. What exactly that root was?

Yet another thing they disagreed on.

"You know," Raven said quietly – more tired than usual. "You never told me much about that kid." Silence yet again, though the less awkward kind. "Nicholas' kid," she felt the need to clarify.

Qrow paused for a second, looking down onto his chest and grabbing the middle of it as he rubbed it idly. It seemed like more than a simple gesture in thought. "Guess not," The huntsman replied with half a mind.

In an almost uncharacteristic laugh, the older-by-a-few-seconds sibling recollected a past memory. "Remember when he used all those traps he set for you against me?"

Echoing the chuckle, Qrow's smile seemed to answer the question. "Well it wasn't my fault you found us the day we were going to spar. I totally already knew about them, by the way."

"Shut up," The raven-haired tribeswoman said, shaking her head. With a roll of her dark-red eyes it was evident she was having no bullshit. "Did you see your face? You were just as surprised as me. You might think you're tricky, but you've never been anything more than a bird-brain. Always have, always will." At Qrow's guilty admission in the form of a quiet laugh, Raven rolled her eyes.

"…You got any other stories before you fly back to the old bastard?" It appeared she had time for some more quality bonding time. It was nice, you know – about every other time they were this close they were either yelling each other's ears off or actually trying to slice them off with their weapons.

"Why?" Qrow asked, bringing his head down to look at his sister. "You like the kid or something?"

"You could say that," Raven said. She knew that Qrow was trying to make eye contact, but she ignored the invitation and chose to keep staring at the canopy above. "I guess he's interesting. There was something about those eyes… like they're covered in a haze."

With a hum, it appeared that Qrow understood. Or maybe he was just putting on airs. "Well, there is this one time we raided a red-mask White Fang camp after getting a tip from a village that may or may not be trampled and burnt to the ground… through no fault of your own, at least this time," he added.

"Oh?"

Qrow slid down the tree slightly to better angle his neck upwards, though this time not to be entranced by the Mistrali forestry. No, instead he did this to better remember what exactly happened. "Yeah," the huntsman answered. "It went a little something like…"

---

"Oh, God – oh, fuck!"

Those were the words that Qrow yelled to himself as he vaulted over a row of wooden crates with Harbinger in hand. Though, maybe more importantly, with the whizzing of an uncountable amount of bullets grazing his skin and hair.

Cringing at the feeling of the splintered wood on his trousers, the huntsman landed on the other side in a crouch before slamming his back into the low line of crates and pressing a few switches and buttons on Harbinger to shift its form from its greatsword to its double-barrelled shotgun. Following the completion of the mechanical gears' clinking, the completely competent and very experienced field agent's face shifted from its 'oh shit' form to its 'oh fuck' form when he soon realised that the kid was nowhere to be seen.

Qrow peaked his head over the line of crates to get a better look at the distance as he called out, "Kid! Kid, are you alright?!" Another volley of bullets crashed into the wood of the surprisingly thick crates, kicking up sawdust and forcing the huntsman to draw his head back down. With grit teeth, Qrow couldn't help but curse to himself. "Where the hell are you, kid?"

"Right here!"

"What the-?" Turning his neck to face the source of the voice, Qrow continued – darting his eyes between Jaune and the limited vision he could access above the makeshift wooden cover they were hiding behind. "What the hell happened back there? I said all sneaky-like, not make-as-much-noise-as-you-can-like!"

While he couldn't really blame him, Jaune didn't bother to pop his head over the cover line as he resigned and stumbled over his words. "Look- I'm sorry, alright? I was just trying to switch cover like you taught me too but then this tall stack of boxes suddenly came apart and tumbled down! I think the rope securing them was frayed, or something…" Hand still gripped on those ratty metal weapons that served as a replacement for Crocea Mors, Jaune brought it to the flat of his head and began to rub in frustration. "Gah… my luck is the worst."

Assessing the situation above and over the crates, Jaune could only watch his mentor as he quickly dipped back down and answered off-handedly. "It's not yours."

"What?"

"Cover's minimal over the top," the huntsman quite professionally tuned out. Credit where credit was due, it seemed that Jaune was getting used to his eccentric mentor-esque figure and chose to listen to Qrow's assessment while he explained without even giving eye contact. "Five visible dots - Two left, three right. The camp proper is in sight and so is what looks to be the head tent. Plan was to steal and incapacitate but looks like it's turned into pillage and destroy. There'll be blood. I take the right; you take the left." Nodding his head as if confirming to himself, Qrow swivelled his head and attempted to do the same with his blond tag-along.

Instead of a determined expression, or at the very least one of complete disbelief at the situation unfolded, Qrow saw Jaune stare at his left hand, gripping the gun that he took from the village a couple of weeks ago where the White Fang invaded and bombed.

The one where he first killed a man.

Clicking his teeth, the huntsman resisted the urge to verbally complain. They didn't have time for this. It'd been five months, honestly he was surprised it even took that long. Wasn't the point of taking him under his wing to teach him about what being a huntsman was really about, anyway? Why now was he worrying about what it meant for him?

"Hey!" Qrow reached over and shook Jaune's hoodie-clad shoulders. The leather padding on his front and back didn't extend that far or that high but that just meant he could move faster, if that wasn't already established.

He jumped at the feeling. "Yeah, I got you," he said. "Two on the left. Fire and run." Jaune shook his head and narrowed his eyebrows, lowering his gun to his side and lifting his sword-hand higher. One gun, one sword. It was another stance that Qrow and decided to experiment with and what better teacher than the field?

Well, pain was the answer but Qrow would take what he could get.

"On three," Qrow said before pausing, if they all started firing at roughly the same time and had the same gun, then he had to listen. Listen to the constant firing of bullets that pierced the air and failed to pierce their cover – waiting. Waiting for when they were out and had to reload. The best opening would be then.

One… Not yet. Two… Almost there, all he had to wait for was the- Click! The sounded repeated itself in different locations, confirming to Qrow a very important detail.

Said detail being that they were all now empty.

Bursting over the cover of crates, the huntsman yelled, "Three!" And the sound of his shotgun slugs exiting from the barrel drowned out the confused screeching of the boy he had left behind him.

---

Jaune opened his eyes, darting their cloudy dark-blue hue around the space he found himself in before taking a deep breath and running a hand across his face. Pushing himself off of the wall of the elevator he was leaning on, the huntsman-in-training could only come to the conclusion that he had been in a daydream of sorts.

Damn Vul… He swore internally. Honestly speaking, it was hard to tell whether he was intentionally trying to mess with you or unintentionally trying to mess with you. To this day, Jaune didn't know which one ended with more people dead.

The ringing of the elevator was what reminded Jaune of what exactly he was doing in this confined space. Upon the opening of the double doors, the young man was almost blinded by the light that the very office seemed to bathe in as it looked down upon the courtyard of Beacon and into the city of Vale itself. It was a sight that Jaune had never seen before, especially not from this height, and he would be lying if he said it wasn't something to gawk at.

This was Professor Ozpin's office and he was here on the command of Miss Goodwitch due to the aftermath of his bout with Cardin. Right. That whole debacle. The whole debacle that ended with one of them getting first-degree burns on their chest and lots of very sensitive thoughts coming out as words. Jaune was just scared that Miss Goodwitch may have been privy to them. The riled yells of the students that formulated the crowd put his mind to ease on whether or not anyone from outside the ring had heard them, though.

In any case, Jaune came to the conclusion that this conversation was going to be a fun one.

Taking careful but purposeful steps forward, he could see that back of Ozpin's head and the long shadow his tall form cast as he stared out at the horizon. If Jaune had to guess, he would say that this was something he did at least once a day. Not like he could blame the man, of course. If Jaune had this kind of view, he'd probably admire it just as often – if not, more.

"Sir? I'm supposed to talk to you?" Really, he could have worded that better and made it sound not like a question but the fighting from earlier had really drained him of the desire to do so. It was too much effort than it was worth, at least to Jaune.

"Or so I've been told," Ozpin replied. He turned around to face the Jaune and their eyes met – a dark sea of blue crashing against the solid cliffs of hazel where the cliffs stood firm. In his hand was a mug with steam softly billowing from the contents within, though the headmaster placed it on his desk before sitting himself down and gesturing for Jaune to do the same on the chair opposite from him.

Taking the invitation gratefully, the young man sat in a manner that didn't lack respect. Hands on his lap and straightening himself against the backrest, Jaune made it clear that he recognised Ozpin's position at the academy and would treat him as such. It was really only polite. Mama Arc raised a good boy, after all.

"Miss Goodwitch?"

At his rather brief inquiry that lacked any real substance, Ozpin chuckled much like a grandfather would to their naïve grandchild. "While it has only been a day or two, I trust that you have gotten a general feel for her character. My vice-principal likes to keep everyone up-to-date, so to speak. Not that I need it."

So that was a yes. Cool. Great.

As Jaune brought his head down to stare at the floor, Ozpin spoke up once again. "Don't look so down, Mister Arc. We're here to talk; I'm hardly about to chew you out."

It was strange how Ozpin seemed to blend his sophisticated way with words and what he might have considered to be terms that were more 'hip with the kids'. Either way, what he said had the intended effect and Jaune brought his head back up as tried his best to meet the gaze of his silver-haired headmaster.

He would refrain from telling the other that the reason he drew his head down was because of the growing headache he could feel from even being in the presence of this man. The natural aura he exuded as well as the message of his actual Aura made Jaune's head whirl and tumble.

"Yes, sir," Jaune said.

"Now," the headmaster started, linking his hands on the see-through table before him as he began to get into the actual meat of the discussion. "I hear that you caused some serious harm to another student… one Cardin Winchester, I believe." Jaune's mouth barely got to open before he was interrupted by the palm of Ozpin's hand. "Ah. Like I said, Mister Arc – while Miss Goodwitch likes to keep us informed, I don't exactly need all the details. This is my school."

That shut Jaune up. His school indeed, he supposed.

"However, I also do understand that Mister Winchester has had somewhat of a questionable history concerning a certain population of the student body." A very roundabout way of saying he hated faunus, though the blond could understand the headmaster's want to not say something so bluntly inflammatory.

"I guess you could say that," agreed Jaune in a similarly dismissive fashion.

"Hm. Well," Ozpin continued, "with said history in mind is it safe to say that it had an impact on certain decisions today?"

It was an action he very much regretted, but Jaune's pupils drifted upwards to once more meet Ozpin's. In contrast to how he slowly brought them up, the teen brought them back down with haste upon seeing the headmaster's narrow eyes and understanding smile. It unnerved him.

"…Yes, sir." Choosing to go with the explanation that landed in his lap, Jaune came to the conclusion that saying 'no, sir, I wanted to tell Cardin that anyone can be evil in spite of their heritage or race by blowing him up from point blank with a grenade' probably wouldn't have worked in his favour.

There was a second of silence, one that turned into two. Then three. Soon, Jaune was wondering if Ozpin had seen right through him. What gave him away? Was it his intonation? The hesitance in his reply? Once again, before Jaune even had enough time to finish his train of thought – Ozpin surprised him by unfurling his hands and slowly leaning forward over the desk. Jaune felt a firm hand land onto his shoulder

Despite undoubtedly noticing him flinch, Ozpin spoke with conviction. "While I understand and appreciate your sense of justice, you should instead trust me and my staff here at Beacon. I assure you that nothing gets past me in these walls. Everything and anything will be dealt with in due time."

Jaune's clouded eyes looked at the hand on his shoulder. It was solid and convincing with an almost infinite grace behind it. Tracking the pale hand and up from the green dress-shirt that hid under Professor Ozpin's dark suit jacket – Jaune could only stare with contracted pupils at the pure serenity of the older man's barely visible smile. Combined with the cascade of light shining behind him, it was almost as if he was some sort of ethereal being. Magical, even if magic didn't exist.

And Jaune didn't know if that comforted him or unnerved him further.

After some time, Ozpin pulled back into his chair and leant on his elbows – fingers interlocked again. "As long as you understand, Mister Arc. I will not hold you excessively accountable for Mister Winchester's injuries. One may even suggest he deserved it, though I wonder what would go on in the mind of such a person." The silver-haired man seemed to find some comedy in that as he chuckled to himself.

"Should a headmaster of an academy really be talking like that?" Jaune managed to squeeze out. He didn't really know if that was rude, though Professor Ozpin really seemed to throw him on a loop in regards to his true intents and mannerisms – even for a person like Jaune who prided himself on being able to pick things like that up.

"Hardly," the other admitted. But with a wink, he added, "And that's why I'll hope that you keep this a secret between the two of us."

"Of course, sir." No longer bother to keep up the little appearance he had in the conversation, Jaune shut his eyes and let out the softest and quietest sigh he could manage. "Is that all, sir?"

Surprisingly, Ozpin resigned with a sigh of his own. "I do believe that we have discussed all that there was to discuss. You may leave with a clear conscience." Nodding his head with quiet thanks, Jaune made to get up – pushing back the chair behind him and beginning to walk back towards the elevator.

"Unless you are hiding something else from me, Mister Arc."

Excruciatingly slow, Jaune's body twisted back around. There was no obvious emotion on his face. A complete and perfect poker face, though it wasn't on purpose. It was because those words struck some sort of chord in his being – a chord that sounded out the notes of fear.

'This is my school'. You can't hide anything. I know. I always know.

Upon viewing Jaune's features, the weight behind his words seemed to vanish under his chuckle. "I'm joking of course. Take care, Mister Arc. Oh, and before you go, please be wary of any messages from unknown numbers. I've received a number of complaints from multiple students that there have been unknown callers attempting to contact them through text. You wouldn't have experienced such a thing, have you?"

How could he just switch like that? How? Vul's message flashed in his head briefly.

"Yo. Little birdie told me that there's something going on in school. Would appreciate you doing a little work for me. I spy with my little eye, something gathering from shadows. Might not be available. Free to go to head."

In other words, there's a spy in Beacon and he wanted Jaune to go to Ozpin about it if he managed to find any information. He had information – or, at least he thought he did - but…

Jaune shook his head, "No, sir. I haven't… I'll let my team know about it too."

Keeping silent, Ozpin nodded his own head with a smile – letting his silver locks bounce up and down slightly as the blond slipped into the elevator and pressed a button that was out of sight to him. The metal doors of the lift came to a shut, bringing the young man out of sight and leaving Ozpin to his own devices.

/-/

A breath of air found itself leaking out of the headmaster's mouth as he stood, grabbing his mug by the rim on his way. His steps echoed in the gear-filled office and Ozpin once more stared out into the distance of Beacon's courtyard.

He couldn't bring himself to take a sip as he sighed yet another time, shaking his head side to side. "My. My…" he muttered to himself before that mutter turned to a laugh. "He got me there." Finally bringing the hot liquid within the mug to his mouth, the headmaster sipped lightly.

Swallowing the bitter drink, Ozpin smiled slightly – still under a positive impression. 'I'll let my team know about it too.' So it would that the young Arc was suspicious of him from the very start. Qrow informed him that he hadn't let it slip he was under his employment, so for that young man to be weary of him even from when they had first conversed in the hallways was strange.

Ozpin could tell. It wasn't exactly hard.

So he would let his team know too, hm? If that was the case, he would find out what he said was a lie and the only reason that Jaune would announce he would do such a thing was almost as if he was sending a message to Ozpin himself. A sort of 'I know that you know' message – though, perhaps, an 'I'll find out if you know' type of message was more appropriate.

It was a spontaneous lie and Ozpin had not set anything up for it in preparation of telling it. Despite living for centuries, Ozpin was still a flawed being. He was still a person. A person with incredible power and knowledge… though Jaune knew no better about his nature either way. The absence of knowledge on his part worked to his advantage.

Very clever and very lucky it seemed. Oh, how Qrow would revel.

The pristine mug printed with the insignia of Vale was brought once more to his lips and Ozpin spoke into the container with far-away thought. "What would you think of the person your son has become, Nicholas?"

/-/

"Achoo!" Nicholas' head rocked forward, causing his unruly dark blonde locks to shake. Putting a fist to his nose, he rubbed absentmindedly. "Wow, the girls really must be worried, huh?" Truly, he was blessed to have such wonderful daughters – even if he wasn't always there for them.

There was a loud foghorn that sounded from the harbour, originating from a large freight ship that seemed to carry iron boxes upon iron boxes of what the old huntsman could only assume to be massive loads of dust and other such resources. Moving from the wall, Nicholas walked forward casually, eyes still fixated on the huge iron beast of a ship. It wasn't five-star accomodation, though Nicholas would hardly complain; he rarely did.

"Ah, there ya' are!" A burly looking man with a thick beard greeted, turning around to meet Nicholas. "Was wondering if you were still lurkin' around. So? Ya' still up for the job?"

"Of course," he replied. It was a simple enough exchange. Protection for transport. There were many dangers out at sea, nearly as many as there were on land, and many of them sometimes required a more delicate touch.

A huntsman's touch.

The sailor gestured further along the port harbour. "Well hop aboard, huntsman! We're leaving for Vale in a couple hours! Hope you're ready for a week's trip at sea, haha!"

He had already spent a couple days out in the Mistrali forests and swamps getting from the Arc lodge to here. Another week was nothing in the long-run of things.

Nicholas drew his gaze back up to the enormous mass of iron and steel that he would be travelling to the other side of the ocean with. Fixing the strap of his worn backpack across his shoulder, Nicholas nodded and began to make his way to the boarding area. He wasn't exactly arriving in style, but it was only a matter of time until he got there.

Just you wait, Jaune. I'm coming for you.

/-/

The doors of the elevator came to a shut and Jaune slumped over, putting his back against the wall of the elevator and closing his eyes in what could only be described as pure relief.

"I'll let them know about it too… really, Jaune?" He groaned for a solid couple of seconds while covering his face with both of his hands. "It's like you were trying to challenge the guy. What's your problem?" Jaune didn't even know why he was so apprehensive around Professor Ozpin. His arms drooped to the side as he sighed, more tired than relieved.

Ozpin was the headmaster of Beacon Academy. The Beacon Academy. The one his father went to. The one he always wanted to go to. And now he was here.

So why was it that he couldn't bring himself to be at ease near Professor Ozpin?

It was a question that he couldn't answer. Especially with how tired he was now. Furthermore, was it just him or was the elevator trip going up long enough to take a nap in? How long had he even been talking with Ozpin for? Jaune wasn't so sure.

Sure he could check his scroll but, slowly, he felt his eyelids get heavier. The stuffiness of the lift instead felt warm to a comforting extent. Nobody would mind if he got a few winks in before he got to the bottom right? It wasn't as if he would be inconveniencing anyone. Yeah… that sounded… like a great idea.

His thoughts eventually ceased as Jaune's head lolled to the side. The fight with Cardin had really worn him down and the following conversation with Professor Ozpin was anything but relaxing. It only really made sense that he was tired. And this elevator… it was such a long ride, closing his eyes for a while seemed like a harmless notion.

Which it was. Completely, in fact.

So Jaune napped for the next minute, or so. The only company in the dark space of his mind being his own thoughts and memories. But he, of all people, should have known how dangerous that was.

---

"…Pillage…"

His hand was bloody. But it wasn't his own. He stared at the palm, wincing at the warm liquid that continued to flow up and out of his grasp – dripping onto the infinitely black floor that he could not see. He could hear the thick pitter-patter of the scarlet waterfall, yet couldn't lay his eyes on it when it hit the ground. There was only black. Was there ground? Was there blood?

"…destroy…"

There was blood. He could see the blood. But there was a gun, too. The gun that had been the murder weapon for one innocent sheep faunus. Trigger finger, smoking barrel, bloody bullet, scrambled brains, ripped flesh, flesh, flesh, flesh. Jaune wanted to rip his own flesh. Who was this person inside of his skin? Surrounded by a ring of fire, with his sword buried deep into the chest of that faunus – that brown-haired faunus – and feeling his body go limp.

Part of Jaune was glad that he died. Glad that it was over. Glad that he took his gun. The gun in his hand was the gun that was in his. The weapon that killed the innocent. That can kill the innocent. Will Jaune kill the innocent? Please, no. But will he have to kill the innocent? Is that what it would take to be a hero? A huntsman?

Amidst the growing red outline of the black that surrounded him, a hand reached out and placed itself on his shoulder. A disembodied hand connected to a disembodied arm that almost glowed in comparison to the darkness.

He felt it shake.

"Hey!" It was Vul. He couldn't see it; his bright blue eyes were still transfixed on the gun he had salvaged from that village maybe a month back but his mentor's crimson orbs were filled with concern despite their obvious determination.

Right. He was at a White Fang camp. His infiltration went bust and now they were going to have to gun their way in before they destroyed any evidence. That was the situation. Oh, shit – that was the situation. No, Jaune, calm down! You got this. Don't worry too much. Taking a deep breath, Jaune and steadied himself the best he could.

Ripping his gaze away from his new weapon and getting into a vaguely ready position. "Yeah, I got you," he said. "Two on the left. Fire and run." Just as the strategy suggested, you provided covering fire for yourself as you went in. Throws the opponent off and makes your approach safer. That was when you used your second weapon. For him, it was the sword in his main-hand; for Vul, it was switching to either his scythe or his greatsword.

Having received basic firearm training from Vul, hitting a stationary target while stationary himself wasn't anything new. But would Jaune even be able to hit a live target while he was running towards them? He guessed only time would tell.

"Alright, on three," Vul said before going into a strange silence under the hailstorm of bullets that were whizzing over their heads.

Okay, three. He could do three. Three was fine. It wasn't his favourite number but it was in his top… three. As Jaune attempted to ignore the racing pace of his heart, he shuffled over to the edge of the row of crates that provided cover and got himself ready to run. Three. Wait until three, he told himself.

…

If Vul would start counting that would be-

"Three!"

Jaune snapped his head backwards, almost twisting it completely, only to see that Vul and his stupid red cape was nowhere to be seen. His blue eyes flashed over the top of the cover line to see Vul making a mad dash forward, zig zagging between bullets and firing slugs at the red-masked White Fang members with dangerous accuracy. It was impressive.

If only he wasn't so confused. Eh, maybe absolutely fuming was the right term.

"VUL, YOU FUCKING ASSHOOOOLE!" Was the sound of Jaune's war cry as he vaulted over the cover and started to make his way over to the left – the area he had been told to cover.

Just as informed, there were two White Fang members that had their guns trekked onto Vul. Basically unaware of the other's presence, one of them could only gasp in pain and surprise as their gun was shot out of the palm of their hands. They tried to bring their head around but their face instead was whipped back in the opposite direction as the pommel of Jaune's crappy steel sword met their cheek. Thankfully, it seemed that they had Aura and the blow had only knocked them out without too seriously damaging them.

"Hey, what the-?" The second White Fang member twisted around at the sound of conflict and was left with his mouth agape before gathering himself and shouting over to where more were undoubtedly stationed. "There are two! We're getting attacking from both angles!" His voice was masculine and he appeared to growl before holstering his gun higher to aim at Jaune.

The person that he had just knocked out was about to hit the floor, but Jaune instinctively wrapped his sword-arm around their neck and held them in the crux of his shoulder as if he was taking a hostage. There was a second of hesitation from the other faunus - maybe some sort of insect kind? Jaune couldn't really tell when he was this high on adrenaline. But it was that second of hesitation that was needed for Jaune to take control.

His left hand snaked around the body of his hostage before taking aim at the stunned faunus. His eyes went down and Jaune's wrist followed swiftly before the finger pulled, setting forth a ripple of smoke and air as the bullet struck the White Fang member's shin – knocking it from underneath him and bringing the faunus to a knee.

"Gah!" He heaved, dropping his gun and proceeding to breathe heavily. Again, his Aura seemed to have naturally protected him – though he didn't expect to be hit there and likewise didn't actively reinforce it. A bullet was a bullet, despite Aura. "Fuck…"

Jaune carefully set down the person he had just used as a glorified meat shield and began to walk towards his disarmed opponent, running the back of his fist under his chin to wipe the growing amounts of sweat that was coalescing on his bare skin. The man he had just shot in the leg was still mumbling to himself in pain until he heard Jaune approach.

Suddenly, he looked up with ferocity and began to snarl. "You can't take all of us, when Adam gets back-" He was cut off thanks to the butt of Jaune's handgun; the sickening sound of flesh meeting the metal of his gun was oddly satisfying to boy

Body collapsing to the floor, something seemed to fall out of the pocket of his jacket. It looked to be a clip of sorts, a clip that had a bolt of electricity on the outside. Jaune quickly bent down and examined the size before getting rid of the clip within his handgun and stuffing it in his pocket – quickly replacing it with the new ammunition. With a click, the slide was pulled back effortlessly and Jaune turned his gun over as if to get a better look at it.

Dust ammo, huh? Stuffing the weapon into his belt, Jaune admired his work and looked over to where Vul should have been-

Aaaand he was already gone. There were the bodies of three White Fang members and Jaune swore that they looked like they went cold. They weren't obviously, he could see the slight twitches and the rising and falling of their chests – but it went to show just how long ago Vul had finished fighting. Cerulean orbs came back to the two bodies around him, not dead but definitely not getting back up any time soon.

Here Jaune was thinking he was actually getting good. Maybe he was getting good and Vul was still leagues upon leagues ahead of him. Yeah, Jaune wanted to believe it was the second one.

"Watch out!" Someone yelled from the distance, followed by the rattle of gunfire.

"He's over here!" Another called out before their shouts divulged into cries of pain and gurgling.

Reaching over his shoulder, Jaune felt the solid surface of his tattered round shield and pulled it forth before kicking off in a sprint to where Vul undoubtedly went. Like he said, the main camp was visible and if he squinted hard enough – the blond was able to see a blur of red and silver blitz through the camp going from one target to another like some sort of heat-seeking missile.

But as Vul continued to decimate White Fang member after White Fang member, there was one that seemed to stand above the rest of the riff raff and cannon fodder that seemed to continuously throw themselves at the scythe-wielding drunkard Jaune was forced to call his teacher. Specifically, they stood multiple heads and shoulders above the rest – even Jaune, who was pretty above average in his height.

The hulking figure stomped through the crowds and they seemed to part for him as he raised both hands above his head with… wait, was that a chainsaw? Who would use a weapon as impractical as that? Then again, Vul did use a scythe a majority of the time.

Bringing his greatsword down across the chest of another masked opponent, it seemed that Vul was already acutely aware of the danger behind him as his cape swivelled around to meet his assailant head-on, bringing his weapon up to bring the massive man to a deadlock – but he didn't even get the chance to do even that.

Everyone's back was turned to him, focussed on the man who called himself Vul, so Jaune had no issue while he was running towards the scene of the crime. His leg enveloped itself in a golden-white swathe – evidence of regular Aura amplification – before he leapt of the same foot and gained some extreme height. His other boot came up on one of the backs of the White Fang members who refused to look at him, acting as a springboard so that Jaune could jump yet again.

But he wasn't getting any higher. He was getting faster. Jaune jumped forward the second time – not upward.

With grit teeth, the blond reeled his left hand back and watched as both Vul and the massive beast of a man slowly turn their heads to witness the sight to come before the edge of Jaune's shield exploded in the face of the chainsaw-wielding madman, sending him tumbling across the floor a couple of metres in the distance. The yellow-ish dirt that covered the grounds of the camp kicked up clouds of dust from the sheer impact of his body and Jaune himself was forced to land in a roll that used his shoulder due to his angle and speed.

It appeared that the sheer stunt alone had stunned the White Fang members in the vicinity and Jaune could only stand up, panting heavily and taking a stance against the crowd – prompting Vul to do the same, granted in a much less serious manner as he smiled, "Not bad, kid. Not bad." They started to circle each other, back to back, watching the crowds of red-masked terrorists slowly regain their senses and bear scowls on their faces. Vul eventually ended up facing the easily seven-foot monster of a man who began to pick himself up slowly but steadily.

"I got this one," he said confidently. "I picked up a little doo-hickey from one of the Fangs while I was laying the beat-down. You might want to close your eyes," Vul warned before there was an audible click and his arm was drawn down only to shoot back up, tossing something into the sky.

Jaune, like basically everyone else who was watching him at the time, looked up to see what was thrown. The teen squinted, neck extending slightly as if to confirm that what exactly was thrown was a-

"Flashbang!" Someone within the crowd of the White Fang yelled. Having realised what it was well before the general warning, Jaune's head was already pulled to the side and his eyes were shut so tight that there were dark trenches of skin above the bridge of his nose, shielding himself for the sense-dulling flash and bang that such a device was known for.

But for the majority of the White Fang that were circling them, they were spared no such fate.

"It's go-time." Were the last words Jaune heard before he felt the presence behind him leap into action. It only really made sense that he did the same.

Jaune pumped raw energy into his legs and began to swing his arms back and forth while taking rapid strides towards the crowd of unsuspecting terrorists. Well, it was possible that they were suspecting and just currently unable to do anything about it on account of being… blind and deaf at the moment. But there was a strange feeling in the teen's stomach as he reeled his shield-arm back and released a devastating backhand onto the nose of a White Fang member.

The large, flat surface of his shield against the crackling Aura of the target caused an oddly satisfying clang as the force reverberated across the material, but Jaune didn't linger on the feeling before spinning on a foot and shooting the pommel of his blade into the gut of another target behind him – forcing them to double over in pain. Within his being, the strange feeling never wavered. Instead, it began to grow as the rampaging blond brought both of his hands to the back of their head and pulled, bringing his knee up to meet the chin that he tore downward. At the last moment before impact, he let go and watched as the masked individual was instantly knocked out with spittle flying out of their mouth.

From one to another; the blond kicked the feet out of a White Fang member next to his previous target. Their body dropped to the floor and their head crashed against the dirt of their camp. Ripping his sword-arm to the side, Jaune finally brandished his blade and cut down another behind him with an upward-diagonal strike as he pivoted on the soles of the black leather boots that Vul had scavenged for him. Sent flying over to his side, the flicker of the Aura was pleasing to Jaune as they crashed down onto the ground, the same Aura flicker getting faster until it appeared to shatter into a million pieces.

This was great. That was the sentiment that Jaune was feeling in his stomach – an overwhelming sense of joy and satisfaction. He was thoroughly enjoying knocking the absolute shit out of every single dazed White Fang member he could get his hands on. Another felt the sting of his blade's iron while the next had the wind knocked out of them by an elbow. At one point, Jaune even moved his sword to his left hand just so that he could give a jaw-breaking hook to another target as he ducked under their weak attempt at grabbing him.

A good dozen seconds had passed and Jaune had already injured or incapacitated near a dozen different people, each one brought down with a dangerous smile on his face. Was this because of what they had done? All the innocent lives? Livelihoods? Because of Lin? Jaune liked to think so.

But as he continued to run riot, his attacks and movement had become linear and predictable. Slowly, the White Fang that remained regained their sight and sense of direction. And when they all began to open their eyes, the sight that they were greeted to could have been seen as quite pitiful to some. A blond boy with young features taking out his anger on anything and everything he could get his hands on

Nothing more than a kid having a tantrum.

Left fist pulled back, Jaune threw a straight punch expecting it to undoubtedly make its way to the face of yet another red-masked individual but he could only widen his eyes in surprise as his fist was caught in the palm of a large masked faunus that looked at him with anything but pity. Pitiful to some, outright disgusting to others.

"What- argh!" His hesitance cost him as the blond's arm was pulled back behind him, forcing him to wince at the restraining power it had on his joints. The sword held in his hand fell onto the floor with a clatter and Jaune was left gritting his teeth to bear with the pain.

What remained of the small crowd of White Fang were three members. Three terrorists. Their features didn't matter to Jaune, however, as he began to struggle against the tight grip on his arm and failing miserably. The hell was holding him? A gorilla faunus? And where the hell was Vul?! Why did he always seem to run off at times like this?

"Jeez…" One of the two in front of him mumbled, looking around at the waste that Jaune had laid before him. Bodies were littered across the floor like flies that had dropped out of the sky and the faunus that spoke seemed almost in awe. In actuality, however, he was more annoyed. "Can't believe that a kid did all… all this to us."

"Yeah," the other concurred. Their voice was distinctly female, but that's all Jaune cared to describe about her.

"Hand me your gun, Trish," the first said – holding out their palm expectantly while keeping the narrow slits of his red-painted mask trained on the restrained Jaune.

Bringing her hand to a holster around her leg, the faunus named Trish handed what looked to be a gun not all to dissimilar to his own over by the barrel. When the weapon was out of her hands, she seemed to rub her arm nervously as she watched the other approach Jaune, pulling back the slide of her gun. "Are you sure we should kill him? He's just a kid, you know?"

"Are you kidding?" The first looked back around at Trish in disbelief and gestured at the bodies that lined the campgrounds. "He might be a kid, but he's a bloody dangerous one." Trish seemed to back off at his reasoning, though still appeared to dislike the idea. It didn't matter to the first faunus, however. Jaune froze as his eyes met the spiralling void within the barrel of the gun that was pointed at him. "You got Aura, so it's gonna take a few shots. But if you could do me a favour and turn it off, I think that'll save us both some time, kid."

"Wait-!" The faunus' finger pressed down on the trigger and Jaune could only whip his head to the side in anticipation of the pain to come.

Even if said pain never did.

Click! Click, click! It jammed? At a time like this? Jaune was probably the luckiest person on Remnant at the moment, or the faunus suddenly became the unluckiest. Either way, it meant that no bullet was sent between his eyes so Jaune couldn't care less whether which way it was.

Everyone seemed to look at the gun in shock.

Everyone, that is, except Jaune – who elbowed the untensed sides of the faunus behind him with his free arm to loosen the grip he had on his right arm and reach for his own gun that he kept within the straps of his belt. He didn't even need to check his aim as he thrust his arm forward and pulled the trigger, the round released making impact before suddenly erupting into bolts of electricity that coiled and wrapped against the faunus, bypassing their Aura entirely and frying them to an unconscious crisp. Spinning around on a heel, the butt of Jaune's good flew into the faunus behind him, knocking him to the floor in a second before Jaune completed his spin – grabbing his sword from the floor and dashing forward at the last faunus.

"No, wait, I-!" She yelled at Jaune but the shout was in vain as the blond brought his sword down in a back-handed slice. Her body fell onto the floor like all of the others and Jaune was left with the sound of his own heavy breathing and the thumping in his ears.

Yes, the sound of the thumping in his ears. The beat of his heart. It pumped to bring blood and adrenaline around to his body. The sheer effort it was exerting was enough to almost deafen Jaune at the moment, he could barely hear himself think.

If that was the case, why was there a quiet dripping sound? And why was his sword's edge coated in a thin layer of red?

Jaune widened his eyes; their bright blue colour slowly dampening, the pupils slowly hiding under a cloud of mist and smoke.

On the floor was the faunus called Trish with a deep gash that ran from her right shoulder all the way to her left hip. It tore through her uniform. It tore through her skin. Her flesh was ripped open and blood seemed to pour out from the dark red crevice in immeasurably gushes. Was this a dream? He had been having dreams like this lately, it only made sense right?

She reached upward and turned her head to look at Jaune – to look at the child who had cut her down to the floor. Her pants were airy and forced, as if not everything she was breathing in was actually getting to her lungs. The rise and fall of her chest was more pronounced. The undiscernible ears that protruded from above her mask began to fall flat on her head.

This wasn't a dream. It was almost as if he ran into the only person without Aura in this entire camp. What the fuck was up with this luck? It was so bad he could start crying. Wait…

He was already crying. Jaune could feel the embrace of those tears as they tricked down his cheeks. He hadn't even processed the fact he was crying yet.

Without a second thought, Jaune threw his red-stained weapon to the side and came onto a knee, running his eyes over the fatally wounded woman and stumbling over his words. Pushing the hand that she reached out back down, he began to speak with tears running down his face. "I- no, I'm- wait, I didn't mean- please don't… I don't-" It was barely speech. Trish seemed to open her mouth as if she wanted to say something. For a second, the bright blue shine of his eyes returned as he leaned forward, "Yes?"

A splatter of blood erupted from a throat-tearing cough, covering the boy's face in warm scarlet liquid. He felt it get into his eye. He felt it run down his face in drops, commingling with the tears that fell from his eyes. He felt… colder, despite the fresh blood. Almost as if… he cared less about it than he did prior. Like his worries from before were childish and unwarranted.

Why did he feel like this?

It didn't take long until the faunus stopped breathing. The gurgling of the blood that pooled in the mouth may have been evidence of them drowning on their own fluids, though she could have similarly bled out from the wound that Jaune had delivered to her. Instead of dwelling next to the body, Jaune instead chose to stand up and grab his sword like none of it had ever happened in the first place as he strolled through the campsite looking for Vul.

There were almost double the amount of bodies on Vul's side of the camp than his own. Jaune even saw the huge tank of a man who wielded a chainsaw of all things lying motionless with his face flat on the hard dirt on the floor. Swiftly moving on, he doubted that any of these people were dead. Vul wasn't as careless as him. Jaune doubted he lost himself in… joy often. Gods, what the fuck was wrong with him…

Jaune wandered into a tent, half randomly ending up there and half because it looked like it was important. By complete coincidence, there was Vul – hunched over a table and reading some sort of parchment that was sprawled all over the surface. His head turned at the sound of the tent flap being brushed aside.

"There you are," he said. "Was wonder how long you were going to keep me waiting." The huntsman paused, keeping his face scarily still as he spoke further. "That's… a lot of blood."

"It's not mine," Jaune responded coldly – almost angrily.

"That's what I was afraid of." The words were uttered so quietly, it almost appeared as though Vul was mocking Jaune for what he said.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Vul ended up conceding before turning back around and tapping his finger on the large centered table. "Come take a look at this."

While his skeptical look didn't quell any, Jaune did as he was told, even if it was to fulfil his own curiosity. "What is it?"

"A map." His finger met the paper again and trailed multiple red lines and pointed at marked locations as he continued to explain. "Shows supply routes, camp locations and sites that are to be attacked. Their camps might move, but we can maybe keep an eagle's eye on these routes and see where they change; they might lead us to their new locations. That's assuming the leader was here and knows that this was left here. These hit sites we might be able to stake out, too. Stake and interrogate kind of procedure," Vul mumbled to himself before taking out his old scroll and snapping a picture of the map.

The flash caused Jaune to wince and pull back slightly from the sudden light.

"I'm going to see if I can find a couple more things in this tent," Vul said offhandedly – already rummaging through more desks and reading through any papers he got his hands on. "Feel free to, uh, clean yourself up or whatever."

"Alright," Jaune said as he gave the map a final look. From the looks of the circle that was marked with a cross, it seemed that a multitude of other circles were at least hike's distance away. The camps were quite spread out from this main one, then. That was kind of annoying but he supposed they would all be on the move soon, like Vul said.

Jaune moved his dark and cloudy gaze from the map to the exit of the tent, staring at the back of Vul's tattered cape for an extra second before letting the flap fall back down as he left. He missed the firm yet concerned gaze of his mentor, however, as the old huntsman stared at the exit with a distant look – seemingly unsure as to how he should feel.

What could have been going on in that boy's head?

---

"You think that was the turning point?" Raven asked. Her white and red porcelain mask rested on the floor by the base of the tree she was leaning on while her arms were folded. She looked at her younger brother, who still had his eyes on the distant canopy above.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Qrow closed his eyes softly and tilted his head. "Who's to say? Straws and camel backs, I dunno." His eyelids lifted themselves as he continued to speak, staring at the openings in the blanket of leaves above him. "He never was quite the same after. Like a switch had been flipped, or something. Always more methodical. More meticulous. Thought about things a lot more." Qrow paused. "More cold. He got better, though – with time."

A few slow seconds passed by once more as Raven stared at her brother with an expression that couldn't be described before she withdrew her hardened gaze, choosing instead to stare at her feet as if concentrate. "Wasn't that the entire point? Didn't you want to teach him about crap like this – the killing and the death and the loss?"

Qrow shrugged again, thought it seemed to take more thought.

"Then why?" Her black locks ruffled themselves further as she shook her head. "Why would you go through all this effort if you were going to end up regretting it?" Qrow had never told her anything about the kid, not a single word of explanation – not even when she had scouted them camping out in Mistral. "Why, Qrow?"

The bright red hue of her eyes were vibrantly evident due to the dark bags. Neither feature wavered as she glared down her own brother for answers.

Collecting himself, Qrow brought his head down with a solemn smile. "Did I make it sound like that? Yikes." He shook his head. "I don't think I regret it, Ray. As for why…" The movement of his head was weak as he brought it back to the center. There was a breath, and then he answered. "Because I could, I guess."

"Because you could…-" Raven sighed, shaking her head before clicking her teeth in annoyance. "Tsk. More similar than you thought, huh? Idiot."

Qrow's hands shifted in his pockets as he clenched them. Crimson orbs soon found themselves staring upward yet again, though they did not linger on the canopy – instead looking beyond.

"Yeah…" he mumbled. "Guess I am."

Fate and Destiny were things he believed in. Maybe it was all the time he spent with Ozpin, though these strange and vague concepts were things that he had come to understand and put his trust in. Jaune was like him – born to fight. That much he knew from the moment he had seen him lying in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by half a dozen decomposing Grimm corpses. Fight the same battle, though? Qrow hoped so.

If, perhaps, he had never found that little brat and taken him under his wing – Qrow believed he would have ended up at his destination anyway. Taken a different path, sure, but he would have got where he wanted to go. But, for whatever reason at the time, he felt the need to dip his hand into that kid's story. Did he mess up? Maybe. But this was path he now walked down and there was no use in regretting it. Funny really, how he talked like this and yet the hipflask on his belt hung so free and full.

The Branwen twins stood together in a peaceful silence for a while longer. Despite everything, they were still birds of a feather. Blackbirds of a feather. Who knows when they would next stand at odds? For what it was, they enjoyed whatever peace that was found between them for as long as they could.

Keep moving forward, ey, Sum?

---

While Vul told him to wash up, there was a distinct lack of running water in the immediate area. Because of the fact, the blond ended up just walking around the camp and hoping that he'd find some sort of liquid that wasn't blood so he could get the damn stuff off his face already.

The camp was barren. Well, it was one way to describe it at least; there was a distinct lack of movement save for the twitching and breathing of various White Fang members that were splayed on the dirt. They were still in Mistral, though there were less trees in the area – perhaps logged to make space for all the tents and crates that were similarly dotted around almost randomly.

Jaune's mouth was pressed into a thin line as he listened to the soft breeze that made his hair sway slightly. He turned his head left, and then to the right, to look for anything that could have helped him get the all of the drying blood off of him. There was nothing, so far. Coming up to a small stack of crates, of which the top one had its lid slightly ajar, Jaune leaned over it and brought his sword to hand to pry it open further. Might as well check these thing. They could have something useful, he thought. What do the White Fang even find useful? Bombs? Guns? Ammo? Hopefully bottled water was on that list. The blood was getting itchy.

But as he pushed his leather-gloved hand forward to slide his worn iron blade into the gap, he heard a rustle from within the tent that crates were next to.

Silently pulling his weapon from within the crate, Jaune quickly fell into a half-crouch as the now dark blue colour of his eyes still managed to shine thanks to the blood that it surrounded the skin around them. The green flap of the tent was now in arms-reach and the movement of objects and fabric was more evident. Still almost silent, though easier to hear.

Did they miss someone? Did they hide or did they just happen to come back at the wrong time? Words from a face he couldn't remember echoed suddenly in his head. "…When Adam gets back…" They were the words that were thrown at him before being cut off by the end of his handgun. At the time, he didn't even process it back then but now the adrenaline was gone and a semblance of sense had returned itself to Jaune. Both him and Vul knew that this was some sort of base of operations… so was this 'Adam' here giving orders in the flesh?

Jaune hesitated pulling the flap back and thrusting his blade into whoever was inside.

Was the person who was in there… Adam Taurus? As in, leader of the new cell of White Fang – Adam Taurus? If that really the case, then would Jaune even stand a chance? How fast would he die? He could handle a couple of grunts but was still got caught off-guard and almost died if not for the gun jamming.

The trembling of Jaune's hand could be seen through the brown of his glove. What kind of person even was Adam Taurus? Jaune wasn't sure he even wanted to know; the very thought was causing his breathing to quicken and slowly go out of control. Over time it got louder and – soon enough - it was painfully obvious that someone was waiting outside the tent.

Then, suddenly, the rustling within the tent stopped and Jaune snapped his head up and forced himself to charge into the tent, pulling the flap back wildly as his body threw itself into the shelter. Within the tent, nobody was there, though it was the back and forth swaying of the opposite exit that told him that somebody had been.

"Hey!" His voice broke at the volume of his scream as he barrelled forward out of the other end and snapped his head left then right. It was then that he got a glimpse. Barely anything – barely even a second – but it was a glimpse.

A figure was darting over a tall stack of crates and on their way down. It was so high that Jaune thought it impossible that anyone could jump over something like that, even while amplifying their physical abilities with Aura. Their head was turned to the side slightly, responding to his call, and the mask was like any other red-patterned porcelain mask given to any old White Fang member. He could barely tell, but there were a pair of ears that emerged from their hair.

Silky, long black hair that fluttered like a breezy night sky.

It was all he could see before the same figure disappeared over the cover and dove deep into the forest. Jaune knew that trying to catch up to them would be a fruitless venture.

"Fuck!" A gruff voice yelled, followed by two subsequent blasts of a heavy-sounding gun. In turn, they were followed by a high pitched chink of metal until a blur of black and red went by Jaune so fast that he turned around a second late, instead coming to see Vul run forward with his weapon pushed forward and a violent scowl on his face. "Damn it…" he breathed out roughly before turning his head to see Jaune.

The blond could only stare at the huntsman, who brought his weapon down to his side before standing up straight. One was annoyed, the other was confused. But they were both breathing heavily as Vul turned around and started to walk back to where Jaune had first left him. Jaune followed.

Without a reason, the blood on his face didn't feel itchy anymore.

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Ding!

The elevator's chime woke Jaune up, causing the silver cross earring that hung from his left ear to jingle in tandem as he flinched from the sound. It was annoyingly slow how the elevator doors opened, and the light that now seeped in from the outside caused Jaune to bring up his arm to shield himself from it.

"But then, I totally knew what she was going to do so I used Crescent Rose to…-" Ruby turned away from her one-sided conversation with Weiss and looked to wherever the noise came from. She tilted her head before her voice raised itself in response to who she saw. "Jaune? There you are!" Her silver eyes narrowed as she hummed. "Wait… where even is that?"

Weiss scoffed, one arm under the other. Pulling the scroll from her face she rotated her head and widened her eyes – as if surprised to see Jaune was actually there and that it wasn't a delusion of her cape-wearing partner.

She collected herself soon enough, bringing her icy-blue eyes back to her scroll as she began to flick on it with her thumb. "That's the elevator to Ozpin's office, Ruby. Beacon Tower? Ever heard of it?"

"Oh, yeah," Ruby mumbled, a finger to the side of her mouth. "I didn't know Beacon had elevators… that's so cool…"

Almost like it was on purpose, the sliding of the elevator doors resumed once more – only backwards this time as they began to close with Jaune still inside of them. Jaune rushed forward, aiming to make it so that the sensors noticed that there was someone between them and not do that. Though, it seems he wasn't the only other one with that idea.

"Hey, watch out-! Oof!" Similarly, the small scythe-swinging girl ran towards the elevator to get between the doors but found herself caught by Jaune as she basically slammed her body into his without knowing it. Wait, caught?

Instead of being bounced back because of her speed, she was caught. Like, in his arms caught. Like, her face was buried in the leather of his torso-plate caught.

Ruby pried her eyes open and finally realised what was going on before exploding in a burst of petals and returning by Weiss' side. Her partner was looking on at the display with a quirked eyebrow, like she couldn't believe what was going on.

With a very forced laugh, the small girl started to rub the back of her head and dart her eyes around willy-nilly, unable to focus on anything. "Ahaha! Well, we're headed back to our room to change and stuff since combat class is over. Feel free to come with! Or… maybe don't because we're changing…" A tired half-sigh-half-chuckle escaped from Ruby's mouth as she exaggeratedly marched down the hallway with a facepalming Weiss on her tail.

Now, Jaune (who was by all means still half-asleep) had yet to comprehend what exactly just happened. In due time, he would remember and hate himself for it though - if there was anything that snapped him out of his dreamlike stupor, in which he had yet to even say a word to any of his team, it was the glimpse he caught.

Just a glimpse. Glowing amber eyes, a beautifully tied pitch-black ribbon and a set of hair that flowed and flickered behind like the night.

Following her two teammates swiftly was Blake, who had her eyes steadfastly kept on her book until she saw her partner hanging out of the elevator with a strange look on his face. "…You coming?"

Jaune blinked before stepping out while saying, "Yeah, I…- Yeah." He continued to walk forward, following the sound of Ruby's stomps and Weiss' clacking of heels.

All while trying to ignore the strange feeling in the back of his head.

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Ending Notes:

There were a lot of perspective and time shifts in this chapter. Some of them I could have done without (like the Nicholas ones) but I wanted to give the reader some updates on the character and where he currently was at in relation to the present. Some people might not like this interpretation of Qrow and Raven's relationship but it's something that I find interesting myself.

Honestly, I don't think that I could ever hate my brother. Even if he ditched his hypothetical wife who also happened to be my hypothetical best friend with my hypothetical niece. Even if it concerned the fate of the entire world and he just refused to do anything about it, I don't think I could really ever hate him for it. That was the reason I wasn't exactly comfortable with having Qrow be aggressive or inflammatory – even in a passive way – because I can't relate to it.

Siblings are siblings and I'm sure that Qrow and Raven have been through a lot of shit together being raised in the Branwen Tribe. And as I've said off-handedly before, Raven has the inability to cut off those connections with others due to her Semblance. No matter what, she can't get rid of them just like she can't get rid of the ability to create a portal once she's established a bond.

Though that's still sort of headcanon.

I won't comment much on Jaune and Qrow's White Fang camp raid, though I will mention that the faunus from 2-3 chapters ago in Jaune's nightmare who killed that sheep faunus did tip them off about it if I wasn't clear.

This chapter was pretty fun to write in all honesty. Maybe it got a little sloppy in the end, but this was the culmination of a single writing session since the ideas and lines just kept flowing for dialogue. I hope you enjoyed.

And as always…

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Thank you for reading this chapter!