Alright, time for some clarification. I've been asked a few times now about what Jaune's semblance will be. It will be the same as in canon. I see no purpose in changing it, especially since a semblance is often representative of a person's character, and Jaune remains the same person at heart in this fic as in canon.
With that out the way, let's enjoy the next installment, shall we?
The Lone Wanderer was trapped in the dark room.
It wasn't an unfamiliar scene for him, though it was a hated one. The blackness was all-encompassing, blotting out any vision of anything. He could see nothing. Not the bangs he could feel tapping against his forehead, or the fists he held up in front of him, or the enemies he knew were lurking.
Oddly, he was actually able to move this time around. His gaze darted about, straining in the endless night to see something, anything, that would give him a clue as to where his adversary was, since he was surely there.
Bishop was always there.
A low chuckle emanated from, well, everywhere. It vibrated through the air, a slow, constant beat. The Wanderer whirled around wildly trying in vain to see some kind of source, something, anything, would give away his target.
There was nothing.
"Funny, funny, funny. How funny you are."
His skin crawled as an abnormal chill crept through him. The voice came in the form of a whisper, but a whisper that descended from every angle, every direction. It suffocated him, like a swarm of radroaches crawling out of innumerable cracks and rushing in upon him, everywhere.
"You piece of shit, where are you!"
He received no answer, aside from another deep chuckle which sent shivers up his spine.
His nerves were tense and energized, like white-hot metal in a forge, screaming with power and heat. He waited. He waited and waited for the attack he knew would come.
It never came.
He stewed and seethed, able to do nothing but be on guard, keep his fists raised, his eyes open, his ears strained. He did this, and he blocked out the cold facts that prodded at the back of his mind, the facts that told him Bishop could break through his guard in a second, that he could sneak up upon him without making the slightest sound, that he'd be able to emerge from the darkness without giving so much as a fleeting glimpse in warning.
He had no chance. Deep down, he knew that. Deep down, he knew many things, though he'd never let that stop him from ignoring them.
Suddenly, he was blinded by an incredibly flash. A yellow light, with the shade and the vigor of the freshly-risen sun, cut through the darkness and seared his eyes with its power. He cried out and brought his hands up to cover his face, and only a second later, did he realize the terrible mistake.
He'd left himself wide open in the distraction.
He pulled back, brought his arms close to himself, prepared a sloppy defense, braced himself for the attack he knew would come, the inevitable assault that he also knew to be indomitable, no matter how much he fought; Bishop would come, and Bishop would win.
That was just what Bishop did.
So the Lone Wanderer prepared in that moment, prepared to face defeat with all the strength and defiance he could muster.
Nothing came.
Not another whisper, not another laugh, certainly not another beating.
He was left alone once more, left to wait, fists raised and shaking from the cold and the adrenaline, lungs strained from the baited breath.
He waited, but there was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
What there was, however, was light. For the first time, the dark room had a light. His eyes slowly adjusted to the change, a welcome one. The light was soft and natural, comforting. It was also extremely dim, and had only possessed such a powerful effect by virtue that, for a single glorious moment, it was an overwhelming flicker in a dark void which had never known such an effect.
Not anymore. The Wanderer adapted and brought the light into his vision, but he had to stave off his wonder. He couldn't allow the magnificent glimmer to distract him. Bishop was there. He was somewhere. He was always there, somewhere, anywhere.
Everywhere.
Yet still, nothing came. He was left with only the sound of his own shallow, ragged breaths, the shuffle of his feet, the slimy, agitated movements of his tongue. There was a silence, and his anxiety waned.
Could there really be nothing?
For a moment, his eyes strayed toward the light, before he quickly snapped them back into his paranoid rhythm of checking and rechecking and strafing the impenetrable dark for any sign of the enemy.
However, time and time again, his gaze fell back to the light. Time and time again, before he finally spared a long look in its direction. It was a pretty, golden kind of light, the prettiest he'd ever seen. It came not from one source, but two. A small dot, then a thin, horizontal line below that.
The majesty and mystery of the sight enraptured him, such that he could not again tear his vision away. He felt something in his chest, something that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was a strange lightness, an idiosyncratic sensation that denoted the pleasant presence of nothing bad, nothing wrong. It was a feeling that rang where his heart was supposed to be, a place that always felt heavy.
Too heavy.
He was drawn closer, closer to the light.
So he stepped forward. Then he took another step after that. Another. Another.
Another.
As he drew nearer, an epiphany finally struck him: it was a door.
Yes, there was no way that he could be mistaken. This, this was a door, a closed door. Beyond it lay something beautiful, something that shined and resonated with a sorrowfully-missed brilliance that he hadn't enjoyed in far too long.
He ran to it.
Sure enough, the dot was the door's peephole; the line, the slight gap between the door and the floor. He stopped before it. He nervously reached out, slowly, with great trepidation. He touched the door, which felt neither smooth nor rough, and it gave no indication out of just what, exactly, it was made out of, if it was made of anything at all.
A silent voice in the back of his mind pulled at him, urged him to turn around, the instinct of paranoia that had preserved him for so long. His head whipped around, but he could still see nothing. The rays of light from the door stretched out into the darkness, eventually fading and disappearing in the vast, black maw that was the dark room.
His panic subsided, and again, the door called to him. No, what was the beyond the door called, the source of the light, the thing that he wanted.
He turned back around, no longer caring for the danger behind his back. There was a powerful, persistent urge that compelled him to see what was on the other side.
He looked through the peephole—
Something cracked into the back of his head, smashing his forehead into the door in front of him, forcing a blinding pain to crush into his skull from both the front and the behind. He gasped and teetered on his feet, too dazed to mount any reasonable defense as something took a fistful of his hair and tore him aback and away, hurling him across the dark room, away from the door and away from the light.
He went slack as he crashed into the ground, rendered completely immobile once more, as Bishop began to laugh.
"Sorry, Wanderer, but you can't go through there." In the dim illumination, the Lone Wanderer was just barely able to perceive the figure of his adversary, a vague shape of a human that he could now see to be shaking its head. "Why, you don't even know what's on the other side. You don't even know what you want.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You have to figure out what you want before you can get it, after all." The figure turned and approached the door, one hazy limb reaching out and grasping the doorknob. "Now let's see, where you want to go? What do you want?"
He pulled the door open.
The Lone Wanderer saw a younger version of himself, sitting under the Earth's sun, lounging back on a rock. Dogmeat lay at his feet, and he was chatting idly with Fawkes, standing just beside. John and Jane were bickering further away, probably in another one of their ridiculous arguments over nothing.
"Is this what you want?" Bishop asked.
It was.
"Well, you can't have it." He slammed the door shut, and a terrible crack rang, stronger than any thunder the Wanderer had ever heard, as it smashed back into its hinges.
Somehow, the ensuing silence managed to be even more deafening.
After a few cold, lonely minutes, Bishop chuckled. "Heh, but no, that can't be right. That can't be it." His boots clicked against the ground as he strode towards the Wanderer. "That can't be what you want," he said as he dragged the Wanderer up with one hand and hauled him towards the door.
They got to it, and he pried it open once more.
This time, it was different. It was gone. It was all gone. The brilliance was gone. The wonder was gone. The hope was gone. The desire was gone. The light was gone. There was only a terrible, empty blackness, a consuming extension of the dark room.
"This has to be what you want, since it's all you ever give yourself."
Bishop hurled him through the doorway, into the nothingness...
The Wanderer jolted awake. Sweat clung to his skin, and ragged breaths crawled up and down his throat.
Breathe deep. Hold. Release.
Breathe deep. Hold. Release.
Smell the strawberry... the nice strawberry...
Breathe deep. Hold. Release.
He let out a final, shaky breath. Okay. It was okay, just another nightmare. The worst one in a while, though. Still, not as bad as they used to be. God... but still bad.
He glanced at his pip-boy. He'd only managed to get four hours of sleep that night. Better than it had been just a few weeks before, when he was lucky to get that much every other day. This had been the worst night's sleep he'd had in a bit.
Jaune let a smile creep onto his face. Fuck you Bishop, I'm getting better, you fucking sack of shit. You dead sack of shit!
He chuckled to himself and got out from the blankets. It was perhaps good that he woke up so early, anyhow, since he had a few errands to run. He cracked his neck and pulled on his clothes. He went through motions now well-practiced, pulling on his clothes and getting ready for the day. He'd already showered the night before at the Beacon locker room before coming back out to his cave, but he'd be taking another one soon enough. He generally showered at least twice a day. It was a luxury he hadn't been privy too in a long time.
With a yawn he left his cave, stood in its mouth. It was still night. However, the eastern horizon showed a tinge of light grey, the harbinger of the light yet to come. Twilight was setting in, and by the time he got out Vale, he'd be done.
He ran his tongue over his teeth. He'd be fixing that problem. He'd wanted to do it the day before, just after Ruby had told him, but he hadn't managed the time. Well, at least he had it now.
He thought back to his other errand... one that was pretty overdue, to be honest. It had only been prompted the night before, through a scroll conversation between himself and Ruby during the hour leading up to the sleep.
He pulled out his scroll and searched through the text function.
R: Yeah, you should come by and play video games. The only other person here who plays is Yang, and I've already been playing with her for my whole life! Maybe you could even play with her, too!
J: Your sister definitely doesn't care for me
R: ?
J: She hardly ever spares a glance for me, Ruby. Never talks to me, either
R: Well yeah, but that's just because she doesn't know you yet
R: Also... you just really didn't have a good introduction
J: Introduction?
R: Back at initiation, when you yelled at her and stuff
J: Oh
R: If you say sorry, I know she'll forgive you. She's a really nice person
J: I don't know... people are never quick to forgive where I come from
R: C'mon, can't you trust me? I know my sister
J: I dunno
R: C'mon, it'd make me really happy if one of my BFF's was friends with Yang, too
J: It would?
R: Yup!
Jaune shook his head and stashed the scroll away. Saying sorry, huh? That wasn't anything he'd ever been good at. Besides, why would he want to? He was leaving eventually, friends were useless and Yang served no practical purpose. Ruby had already fulfilled his needs, like weapons and training.
He didn't want a new friend.
He certainly didn't want to be friends with someone who always seemed kind and vibrant and up for a challenge or a good time. Not at all. He didn't want to be friends with Ruby's sister, so that then they could maybe do more stuff together in a group or something like that. No, not at all.
Not at all.
The Lone Wanderer had been, was currently and always would be a suspicious person; paranoia was ingrained into his thought process, his very method of existence. He wasn't quick to trust others, though he was quick to be leery of them.
He squinted and eyed the scrawny student warily as he made his way back onto campus in the morning. The kid he'd seen leave the girls' bathroom, the kid he'd see stare at Pyrrha. Stare at his partner. Stare at his teammate. Stare at a person he was supposed to keep safe.
Pyrrha Nikos. The Wanderer didn't know who she was, not at all. They weren't anywhere close to being friends. Nonetheless, she was a member of his team, no matter how much he detested the fact... had. Had detested the fact. Strangely, he'd become increasingly open to the possibility of having a team at Beacon, to the possibility of not being alone.
His eyes darted away and he surveyed the track filed outside of the Beacon campus, knowing that something would be there. He saw red. He saw Ruby out with her own team, jogging along the track under the morning sun. She was always out running, all the time, running. She was one for cardio, and he'd even gone along with her a couple times. It felt nice to be out. It felt nice to be around people.
He'd never done anything like that with JNPR...
He shook his head. And he wouldn't. He stalked into the school and into the locker rooms, where he took a shower as angrily as one could take it. He slammed the door to the stall shut behind him, just a bit harder than normal. He set down his things on the rack with a little extra force. He even wrenched the lever to start up the water with extra effort, but this only rewarded him with a blast of scalding liquid that elicited a yelp so high-pitched he was glad that no one else was around to hear.
Through it all, he silently grumbled to himself within the confines of his own mind. He grumbled about how he'd be leaving, just after he completed his weapon with Ruby. He'd leave, certainly. He possessed no connection to the people here, or even people in general. He hated people.
But haven't you always gone out of your way to help them?
Shut up.
Didn't you enjoy the time you've spent with Ruby and her team?
Shut up.
Isn't it nice to be around friendly people, no raiders or low-lives who want to take advantage of you?
Shut up.
Don't you wonder about how it might be nice to have a team again?
Shut up.
You're just afraid.
"Shut up!" He punched wall of his shower stall, cracking the tile.
He snarled and got out, quickly drying himself and pulling on his school uniform.
"I'm leaving, and I'm leaving soon," he said to himself. He continued to seethe as he left the stall and got to the sinks.
He rooted through his bag, pulling out some materials he'd bought earlier that morning.
"The stupid people here..."
His hands were slightly shaky as he rooted his bag, since he'd stopped himself from having a cigarette that morning. He pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste, items he hadn't touched since his time in the vault, and began to furiously scrub out his teeth. The paste was such a powerful flavor of mint that it was actually somewhat painful, though the box had advertised it was perfect for killing a smoker's breath. After that, he pulled out some nicotine gum, also minty to an absurd degree, and stuffed several bars into his mouth.
B: He's there with you guys?
Y: Yup, just playing games
Y: Y'know, I think you guys are overreacting a little bit. I don't think he's too bad, at least not anymore
How could she not? Yang rested on her bed, texting her partner on her scroll. Her eyes flicked over to look into the center of the room, where Jaune and Ruby were sitting on the floor. They were playing an FPS, "Grimm Fighter 5: King of the Ursa". She and Ruby had beaten it at least three times, first on the intermediate, then on the hard, then on the extreme difficulties. Now, Jaune was playing it on easy, since he'd apparently never played a real video game before, just weird text-adventures.
He was... not very good, but under Ruby's diligent tutelage, he'd started to master the game. Well, he'd at least figured out how to move the camera while also moving the character, which meant he could now survive for more than five minutes.
"Hurry! Use your grenade! No! Not at your feet!" Ruby yelled.
"Game Over!"
Yang chuckled as both her sister and her friend groaned in frustration and were forced to start over from the next checkpoint. Nevertheless, they each had a smile on their face. Video games were fun. Video games with friends? Even better.
"Wait here, I'm gonna go get us some more snacks," Ruby said. "But while I'm gone, try to get past the mini-boss, 'kay?"
Jaune nodded, immediately turning all his attention back to the screen.
Ruby flashed out of the room, leaving just Yang and Jaune, alone. She turned back to her texting.
Weiss had left to make a call back to a family friend, one of her butlers, named Klein or something like that. Maybe he was one of her cake butlers? Meanwhile, Blake had left for office hours with professor Peach, having some follow-up questions about her latest psychology seminar. They were chatting now, while she waited.
That left just the sisters and Jaune, though now it had been cut down to just Yang Jaune. Well, Jaune, plus Yang and Blake, still talking.
B: What do you think of him?
Y: He's alright
Y: Well, now he is. He's still kinda weird, but at least he's not how he was back at initiation.
Yang glanced out of the corner of her eye, back to Jaune. He was playing the game, though he was idling, didn't seem to be fully invested for whatever reason. It felt a little weird to be talking about someone behind their back when you're right next to them, but Yang had never been one to shy away from gossip. Besides, it wasn't like she was spreading rumors or talking bad.
Y: He's a lot better since then. I mean, still pretty antisocial, not the nicest guy, but he's totally different from how he used to be. Sheesh, he was edgelord supreme back then. Really off putting. I hated him
B: But now you think he's okay?
Y: I think Ruby was right. He just needed some time to adjust. Much less of an asshole now
B: Well, do you think that Weiss's concerns have any merit?
B: I think they do
Y: What? That he's a psycho?
B: That he's dangerous, that he's fought people
Y: Well, I think that they're both true, but I don't think that that's bad. I mean, I've fought people before too, and I'm pretty dangerous
B: It's different, though
Y: How?
There was a long pause as Blake though over her reply
B: He's darker
Y: What's that supposed to mean?
B: It means that he's a lot more suspicious than you are. You're a normal person
Y: And he isn't?
B: Not really
Y: Eh, he's just got his own problems. Definitely looks like he's got some personal stuff going on. I'm not gonna judge him for it. I don't think you should, either
B: I'm not judging anyone, just being careful
Y: You really seem pretty on edge about him. You know, there are a lot of reasons that someone could wind up like that, all antisocial, used to fighting others. I think a lot of those reason are more sad than scary
B: I still don't trust him
Y: What's up with you? I can understand why Weiss would latch onto this, but you seem pretty sour about him
B: I just don't trust him
Y: Well, maybe I'm just biased because he's Ruby's friend. I'm just really happy she's finally got people other than those jackasses back Signal
B: What was so wrong with them?
Y: Eh, it's Ruby stuff. I'm gonna respect her privacy and not dish it all out. Besides, she doesn't even know it all herself
Y: I wish she would, though
Y: Even though it'll suck when she does
Y: But yeah, I'm just really happy to see her getting along with people
B: Jaune could still be dangerous
Y: I think you're still overreacting. I mean, he's a lot like you
This prompted a barrage of replies that Yang wasn't quite ready for, unable to get in a word edgewise.
B: What's that supposed to mean!?
B: Yang!?
B: What does that mean
B: What do you mean
B: Are you thinking about something
B: I'm fine
B: There's nothing wrong with me
B: What are you thinking about me
B: What is it
Y: Ummm...
Y: I was just joking around, sheesh. Don't take it too seriously. I mean, you're both quiet and have your own pasts and stuff
B: Peach is ready to see me
With that, Blake logged off.
Yang frowned. That was... weird. Her partner generally didn't get so worked up. Eh, whatever, maybe just hit a sore spot of some kind. Didn't matter.
She shrugged and started surfing the internet, nonchalantly putting behind her conversation with her partner as she perused for something interesting.
Yang was reading an article on experimental new hair-care techniques, but she stopped scrolling through when she noticed a change in her environment. This was what she'd been trained for, all throughout her life. Notice things. Notice things, then maybe you'll survive. Notice when new noises appear. Notice when ambient noises disappear. Well, ambient noises had disappeared. More specifically, the sound of the video game had faded to nothing.
She turned her head. Jaune had paused the game and turned off the sound, and now he was staring down at the controller in his hands. She saw his red eye, still menacing its own way. The pupil crept over to corner, just far enough to get a quick, furtive glance of her, before snapping back. His trepidation was clear, if a little confusing. Why did it even exist?
He reached into his pocket, then threw something at Yang. Her eyes widened, but she caught it easily enough. It hadn't been an attack, not at all. It'd been a pass, a genial thing meant to transfer an object, a gift.
She looked down.
It was a tube of dark blue nail polish.
"Ruby said you lost some nail polish like that the other day," Jaune said.
He gulped.
"I've never said sorry for how I acted when we first met."
Yang looked down at the nail polish, then back up at him. "So is that what you're doing now?"
"Yeah... sorry," he said, without looking at her.
Huh... for a second, she was confused as to whether or not she should be offended. On the one hand, this could be seen as him trying to bribe her into forgiveness, but she quickly rationalized it to be an olive branch, well-meant. She even remembered something Ruby had told her.
"Yeah, Jaune bought me some ice cream today, and I said he didn't have to, but he was all like, 'no, I have to. You've already given some to me.' And then I told him that that was just a gift, y'know?
"But then he told me a bit about how things work back where he comes from. He lived in a wasteland, where food could be really rare. Some people starved or got sick eating things that weren't healthy enough, just because they were that hungry. Even if things weren't that bad in most places, it was still pretty hard to get by. Everyone lived pretty dirtily and had to ration out what they had, and nobody had it as well as we do here in Beacon, not even the richest. Nothing was nice like it is here.
"So giving out gifts is a pretty big deal in the wasteland, especially when it comes to food or anything expensive. He always likes to give back presents that are about as equal as what he's gotten. Heh, Jaune told me he was always better at putting thought into a gift than trying to say what he meant."
Yang looked down at the nail polish. She recognized the brand instantly, for it was well known. Well known, and pricey.
She looked up at her sister's friend. He was now looking back, staring inquisitively through the corner of his eye, his reddened, garish eye that somehow managed to look a little soft in this context.
She smiled.
Ruby busted back into the room. "Alright, I got our goodies!" She shouted, throwing down a handful of candy and soda she'd gathered from vending machines. She sat down and started rifling through her pile, before finally sparing a glance for the room around her.
She frowned.
"Jaune, why did you pause? I thought I told you to try and beat the mini-boss!"
"I... didn't think I could do it on my own."
Yang looked at him as he lied.
Ruby only pouted, missing it completely. "You'll never get better if you don't try and get past him on your own!"
"He'll never get better if you keep teaching him," Yang said.
Ruby's head swiveled back to face her sister. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that he'll learn better with a better teacher," she answered with a grin, kicking herself off the bed. "You never play these games with any strategy, any finesse. You always left that to me whenever we played co-op."
"Not true!"
"So true. Here, lend me the controller for a second."
Wordlessly, Jaune did.
"You want to combo your slides with your melee attacks when things get close."
"I can do that?"
"Yup, but Ruby never does, because it doesn't do any damage."
"I just want to shoot things!" her sister grumbled.
"You can't shoot if you run out of health!"
Ruby stuck out her tongue.
Yang did the same.
Jaune laughed.
From there on, the two sisters jockeyed Jaune between them, sometimes giving opposite advice to one another. However, he seemed to content to side with Yang, once it turned out that her techniques were indeed superior. It's not like Ruby was bad at games or anything, it was actually the opposite problem. She was too good. Her style of play had been developed over dozens of hours and relied upon skill that Jaune didn't have yet, whereas Yang's reliable strategies could quickly be adopted.
Soon enough, Jaune finally managed to beat the mini-boss. Ruby cheered and the two shared a victorious high-five.
"Hey, aren't you going to give anything to the girl who finally pulled you out of your rut?" Yang raised her hand.
He looked at it. His hand twitched hesitantly.
"Come on, don't leave me hanging."
Quickly, he took a breath, which he held in for a moment before letting it out. Just a second, just a second to cool his nerves. Then his hand shot out, hitting hers with a satisfying smack.
This time, when she flashed him a smile, he returned it in kind.
There was definitely something off about that guy. The Lone Wanderer decided, after the end of classes that day, that there was definitely something off about that guy. The guy who looked at Pyrrha too much.
How did he know?
Well, he knew because he knew what to look for.
The way the guy carried himself, the way he looked around. His actions were imbued with a sort of guilty furtiveness, even though he was doing nothing suspicious at all. That implied that he had done something worthy of someone's ire, that that something was still waiting in the unknown, ready to be discovered. He feared that discovery, and this fear leaked into his general behaviors.
The Lone Wanderer knew enough people who'd been like that. He only needed to look into a mirror to see one example.
He'd seen a few of his type around Beacon, though never in such attention-grabbing ways as this kid managed it. Some people walked around for a day or two, likely covering over some minor offense that they'd perpetrated. Minor enough, that the discovery was either minor or never occurred at all, letting the incident pass.
The Lone Wanderer saw these people for he watched. He watched, constantly vigilant, constantly waiting for the attack that would never come, from the adversary that was long gone.
Always waiting.
He did not wait idly. He observed and catalogued and remained wary, and he'd become especially suspicious of this one, the scrawny boy who looked at Pyrrha too much. He was always furtive, every day. His glances in her direction were choppy. The way he danced around her in the halls was stilted. His agitation only really appeared when he was around the red-headed champion. The Invincible Girl made him nervous.
So the Lone Wanderer followed him. Why did he do that? Why follow?
Because he's a weird guy, and I want to make sure he doesn't hurt me.
You?
Yeah, me.
You want to make sure that he doesn't hurt you?
Yes.
He's never shown anything against you, though.
Doesn't mean he won't do that eventually.
Doesn't mean he ever will.
All of this is uncertainty, best to be prepared for the worst.
True, true... but are you sure that you're not doing this because you think he might hurt someone else?
There's no one else I would care for.
The Lone Wanderer shook his head, got away from thinking and got to following. After all, there's no better way to combat stalking than with counter-stalking, right? Right?
Right?
Right.
Now, the Lone Wanderer wasn't the sneakiest of sorts. Even with a stealth-boy, he wouldn't call himself a ninja, despite being literally invisible. That in mind, he kept a distance. He stayed far away, almost out of sight, as he trailed the student.
This was another thing that had irked him about the guy. He always peeled away and left into the forest, alone. He knew from personal experience that people going into the Emerald Forest alone (an act prohibited by the Beacon staff) was not done for good reasons, be it for simply getting away to an antisocial hovel because you're cruel to your team, or something more nefarious.
The runt, likely certain that he hadn't been followed, that he was safe amidst the inhospitable terrain, didn't even bother to look over his shoulder as he went. Amateur. He didn't possess a fraction of the paranoia that any wannabe ne'er-do-well, such as the Wanderer, required in order to be successful.
So he followed. He followed him into the forest, careful to keep back. But he was a perceptive person, and he was able to stay shrouded in the foliage while still keeping track of the guy... for a while.
Okay, he might have lost him for, like, ten minutes, at most, but it wasn't too hard to find him all over again. Give him a break, trailing people when you're incompetent about trailing people is hard, alright?
After a half-hour hike, it was finally over. The hunt was over. That little shit's life was over, too.
They came upon a small clearing, and the runt trudged across, to a small structure on the other side, while the Wanderer remained hidden further back in the forest, eyeing the place
The Lone Wanderer hadn't know what he'd find. Perhaps it would be some sort of a base from which the scrawny piece of trash was conducting his villainous machinations. Perhaps there was something grand insidious at play, a great conspiracy. No, nothing so trite. Something real. Something that made him mad.
It was an old tree that rested by the side of a clearing, long dead. The Wanderer could only assume that the spot had been found during initiation, just as he'd found his own cave. It was an excellent little place to hide away, since the trunk was hollowed out by the decomposition inherent with time. It was the size of a little room. A large spit in the side left it wide open. The Wanderer could see what was within.
He caught a glimpse of color. It was orange. Orange, red and flashes of something white. He crept closer, out of the trees.
He saw the kid sit down before what looked like a large poster of Pyrrha Nikos.
Subterfuge was abandoned as he tore out of trees, ripping through branches and crushing foliage as he marched. The kid noticed him quickly enough, and his face instantly twisted into a panic.
"Hey man, I can explain, I swear! This is nothing, it, it..." He rose and spread out his arms to either side of him, trying to block view of the room behind him. "It's nothing!"
"Nothing? Nothing?" The Lone Wanderer craned his neck. Sure enough, there was a picture of Pyrrha there. There was even a box of cereal stamped with her visage, stacks of papers... a scroll that was open to a gallery of images (no points awarded for guessing what they were images of). There was a comb lying on the floor. There were also some clothes. The Lone Wanderer saw a bra, a pair of panties.
Then he saw red.
Breathe deep. Hold. Release.
Breathe deep. Hold...
Breath deep...
Breathe... deep... deep... just... just breathe... just—
Oh, fuck it!
It happened quickly. He drew Crocea Mors. That scrawny little fuckface drew his weapon. Then the Mysterious Magnum was whipped out and a volley of shots fired. The kid's guard was broken and he was sent off-balance. The Lone Wanderer closed the distance.
Crocea Mors shrieked as he brought it down. The guy had a shortsword that he whipped around feebly, unable to hold back the barrage of crushing, hateful blows that reigned down upon. He was battered about, with a strike to the stomach, then the ribs, then down into his legs and up into his face, throwing him up through the air.
The Wanderer followed up and leaped upon him, pinned him down to the ground. He forced Crocea Mors against his chest, grinding down through his aura, which flickered and flashed, desperately trying to stave off of the innumerable little teeth, screaming and scratching and trying to tear into flesh.
He'd kill him. He'd kill him right here. He'd cut him to pieces and throw out the various little chunks into the wilderness, where the Grimm could tear into it and enjoy a meal. He'd kill him, and then find a stream or a pond or a lake or something and clean off. Then no one would hurt his team.
And if Ruby ever found out, then she'd never, not in a million years, ever forgive him for being the savage that the Lone Wanderer was.
Jaune Arc pulled away.
He panted and snarled down at the kid, who stared up at him with unbridled fear in his eyes.
"Where did you get all that!" He demanded, bringing the tip of Crocea Mors down to rest on the creep's throat.
"I-I-"
"Don't fucking stutter!" He shouted, pressing the glistening teeth of his ripper sword down, close against his trachea. The student's aura weakly flashed to resist, but the brutal barrage had drained him, and his life was totally forfeit. He didn't even have hold of his weapon anymore.
"Where did you get all this shit!?"
"I bought it..."
"You bought underwear and combs and pictures?"
"I bought the poster...the cereal..."
"The rest?"
"I figured out how to break into her lock—"
The student was cut short when the Wanderer kicked him in the jaw, snapping his mouth shut. He bit down on his lip, hard. Enough that the creep got a mouth full of blood, even as he Wanderer kicked him again in the side, then stomped down on his groin, a move that pumped all the air and energy out of that little shit's body.
"You're going to leave that poor girl alone," he said. He didn't even spare the groveling creep a glance. Couldn't afford to, lest he hurt him even more. "You're not going to touch her."
His counterpart whimpered on the ground.
The Lone Wanderer shrugged. Message sent. Message received.
He glared back at the bizarre mural the wierdo had constructed. Thankfully, Ruby had actually helped him make a unique new bullet for the Mysterious Magnum. He calmly ejected the spent casings, then reloaded it almost full with normal bullets, leaving only one slot empty.
He placed in the final bullet; it had the symbol of a flame etched into the side.
He cocked the gun and fired in one fluid motion. The dust bullet made the shrine erupt in flame.
Nora Valkyrie grinned a little bit when she saw that sicko's shrine get lit up.
"Five!" her team-leader shouted.
The creep looked up at him from the ground, and Nora was as confused as he was.
"Four!" he yelled once more, this time cocking his gun and pointing it towards the kid on the ground.
His eyes widened and he held out his hands. "No! Please don't!"
"Three!"
It was right about then that that common sense finally broke through the kid's skull, and he started to scramble to his feet.
"Two!"
He ran into the forest.
"One!"
Five shots rang through the trees, and the kid cried out as a few hit him. Nora saw one smash into his shoulder; another, into the small of his back. He collapsed and fell to the ground, where he writhed and groaned.
She'd seen the way her team leader fought in class. He could have made all those shots, if he'd really wanted... several of them passed by a few feet around him. No, that was a terror strike.
And by the way the creep shook on the ground, it had worked.
She had to duck again as her leader retraced his steps, heading back out from the Emerald Forest the same way he'd came. The same way she'd came, as well.
Who would begrudge her for being a little nosy, when the two people in Beacon she liked the least seemed to be collaborating?
She wasn't stupid. Pyrrha wasn't stupid either, but she was a little naïve, raised in a protected life where the realities of the world didn't reach her. Nora knew otherwise. She'd grown up on the road with Ren, and from a young age, had needed to dodge the advances of the sort of derelict wierdos and creeps that the life of a vagabond would put expose you to.
With Ren's help, she'd managed to navigate a world especially difficult for young women such as herself, and she'd learned the signs. Signs that she'd seen in that kid. She wasn't stupid, not at all. She'd seen the way he looked at Pyrrha... a lot.
He looked at her a lot.
Too much, and with a gaze was that was too lidded to be innocent.
She'd warned her teammate about him, who'd been quick to dismiss him as a fan with a crush, who she'd give a chance, if only he found the courage to ask. He didn't. He did, however, find the courage to steal and sulk and ingratiate himself into her life the only way he knew how. That much was now evident, after seeing that bizarre little shrine.
She'd been wary of him, especially when Pyrrha started to 'lose' some of her more private materials. She'd been even more cautious when some gossip talked about him hanging around the girls' restrooms and locker room. Word was, he'd even gotten a talking-too by Miss Goodwitch. Obviously, that hadn't done much.
Nora had learned all this by being her passive self. Some thought she was crazy and ditsy... which was true, to a degree. That didn't mean she didn't listen or pay attention or remain aware, such that she ingested the rumors and his movements and combined that with her already held knowledge of how some men, the sort lacking in a particular set of moral scruples, behave.
She'd noticed how the guy peeled off into the Emerald forest, as easily as she'd noticed how her own team leader did the same. Oh man, that had set her off. Were the two collaborating? Was he selling out Pyrrha to that creep, providing information for something, or perhaps he was personally a part of this little stalking endeavor?
So when she'd seen the creep leave, and when she'd seen Jaune follow, she followed as well. After all, nothing beats stalking as well as some counter-stalking, right?
She was not, never had been and never would be a stealthy person. She was noisy and boisterous and always preferred to kick down the front door, but this mission had been surprisingly easy, since the Emerald Forest was filled with ambient whispers of nature to cover her footfalls, along with dense foliage to cover over her vibrant orange hair and bubblegum-colored uniform. It also helped that Jaune seemed to be so focused on the guy he was following, on not being noticed by him, that It didn't even occur to him to cover himself from behind, though she wasn't sure he possessed the skills for it.
That was what first tipped her off that Jaune wasn't involved directly. He was actively avoiding the guy's attention, trying not to be noticed. If they were working together, then he wouldn't care about him, only being careful to cover his tracks from behind, which may very well have enabled him to noticed Nora.
But he didn't. Instead, he noticed the creep's den, which she got a good luck of when the two were fighting... well, it wasn't much a fight, so much as a smackdown so brutal that Nora was impressed and delighted, both by the savagery of the fighting itself as well as the fact that it was directed toward that creepo. Though, if it had be her, she might have broken his legs, instead of just leave him to run away like a little girl. No, that wasn't fair. Not fair to little girl, who she happened to have personal experience with, having been one herself and all. They ran away with much more poise than that... well, at least she liked to think that young Nora was cute, in a scrappy sort of way, whenever she was making a bee-line away from a theft.
She'd been tempted to join in on the fight and help him bash the guy apart, but she hadn't. A hesitation had overcome her, for she knew that Jaune didn't know she was here, didn't want her to know. He didn't want her, in general. And she didn't want him... well, she would've liked a team leader, a real one, but not one like him.
At least, not him as he was... as she'd known him.
"Leave that poor girl alone!"
That had been his words. His words, to the guy who might hurt Pyrrha. He was protecting Pyrrha... did that mean he cared? Well, in some warped way... it must, right? Why else? Why else would he follow someone else out into the woods and attack them, if not for a strong motivation like worry, like care?
What the heck was up with this guy? A month ago, he'd treated them like trash, but now he was out here championing them?
She looked back out into the field, at his handiwork. The ground was torn up from where his chainsaw had bit into it, and the hollow tree burned, along with all its contents. Alright, now it was pretty cool-looking to burn down the evil villain's lair with just a single shot, then leave, but that was kind of a jerk thing to do. Like, this was how forest fires started! Smoky the Ursa would never forgive him! Besides, she probably could've brought back some of that stuff to Pyr...
Eh, not his fault he got a little zealous. She smiled. Actually, they kinda thought on the same wavelength. She probably would've blown the place up with a good lightning-strike with Magnhild... then they were actually sorta similar, weren't they, when it came to violence?
Her face turned into a frown. She'd learned to love fighting because it's what she'd always had to do. It had been her way of evolving to suite the brutal world of Remnant on the move, the world of bloody evolution. Ren had adapted through going the opposite way, withdrawing from what was around him and keeping his cool.
So, did that mean her earlier theory that he'd been through things similar to herself, was correct?
She bit down on her lip. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. Either which way, that didn't justify his actions... though they might explain them. This was... she honestly didn't know what to feel at this. Though, he'd have to do more than just one act of kindness, if that's what this could be classified as, in order to win them back.
He'd beat someone up for Pyrrha, with motivations yet unknown. Would he be there for them in other situations?
Would he be there for her?
As far as she knew, he'd done nothing for her yet.
She shook her head. She'd just think about it more, later. Later. For now, she was going to head off in the direction of that creep, who's aura had probably recovered enough by now for her to get in a few shots of her own...
Nora smiled brightly and clapped Pyrrha on the shoulder.
The champion had never played 'Remnant' before, but her strategic mind had quickly become adept at the game.
"You did great!" She praised. "I didn't even let you win this time!"
Pyrrha giggled, before the words sunk in.
"You've let me win before?"
"Just to see that pretty smile!"
Pyrrha started to chuckle again.
Nora smiled even wider. The two of them sat side by side in the library, playing a smaller game of Remnant designed just for two. Ren was off meeting with a teacher for studying, and Jaune was away doing something somewhere, probably with Ruby. What it was about that girl that had managed to rope him in, she had no idea, though she seemed pretty nice.
"Are you alright, Nora?"
Ugh, and there she went. Ever since the day before, ever since she'd witnessed what Jaune had done, for her, for Pyrrha, for the team, she been conflicted. She wasn't the best at remaining reserved, and Ren had noticed instantly, though he'd backed off when she asked him to. He knew when to give her her space, after so long together.
The truth was, she didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to do. It felt almost like she was playing a video game, and now she'd gotten to a point where she could make one of two choices. She could tell Pyrrha about everything that happened, about the stalker and about what Jaune had done. Or, she could keep quiet.
The thing that made this a harder decision than in any video game she'd played, however, was that it was a muddled decision. In an RPG, one of the choices would be bad; the other, good. Maybe there'd be a choice in the middle, too, that was snarky and maybe a little ambiguous. Maybe her character would have enough points in certain stats, like charisma or speech or something, that would give her another option, allowing her to magically solve everything and make everyone happy.
But this wasn't a game. It wasn't clear cut. She didn't have boxes in front of her with clear, formulated lines of dialogue that she could then read off and make everything all right. She didn't know what to do.
So she swallowed it down. She smiled and set up the game with Pyrrha once more.
She said nothing.
Well, this is that. Hope to get back on track with things from here on out, in terms of scheduling. Sadly, I can't exactly make promises anymore, since some other projects have become increasingly important and are taking more time. However, this story will be updated at least somewhat consistently, and it will go through to the end.
Come back next time, when we finally get to forever fall.