Transcript 1: Last port of call
"It borders on subterfuge, Oz."
Qrow strutted around the dusty corner of the room, or rather would have had the atmosphere been less gloomy. He wasn't necessarily the most upbeat person – decades of living with a Misfortune semblance tended to take its toll – but he wished things could go back to the old times, back when Salem and her cronies were only a distant threat in the back of their minds, back when Summer hadn't disappeared…
But those days seemed to be slipping out of reach, perhaps gone already. Now they were discussing plans on how to essentially steal a potential Maiden replacement from an ally, rip the life out of one of their closest friends, and cram it into yet another innocent young girl who had no idea of the more complicated things in life.
Qrow scowled, took a quick pull from the hip flask, and threw his arm down from his face again.
"And we won't have to do it," he snarled, "If Ironwood's latest contraption up here does its job – which they usually do. Despite his chronic worrying, he rarely fails to deliver."
"I hope it does, Qrow" replied the headmaster, staring through the glass panel that separated Amber from the rest of the world. "But we do have to test its progress, it's been over three weeks since the dance. Both the one the students held, and the beginning of this dangerous dance in front of us."
They looked into the soft blue glow creeping out towards them from the eastern corner of the room. At its source lay a young woman, one whose life hung in the balance, all innocence snatched away by a moment of misfortune.
Qrow frowned. He had been nearby when the attack happened. But that was planned, not a result of his semblance. Amber's attack was no accident… but what about the result. Was that a little… too unfortunate?
He shook his head. It didn't matter now. Qrow always remained somewhat aloof these days because of his semblance, for fear of growing close to someone, and having them ripped away. And it had happened again, he thought. That's the way it always goes. Qrow's hand went to his flask.
"I… I can't do it Oz. She'll get better."
Swig.
"She has to."
"We have to. We must take her out to assess if she's recovering or not." Ozpin looked pointedly at the red eyes staring up into his. "To see if we can avoid a replacement…"
The eyes twitched away angrily, but Qrow knew Ozpin was right. This stasis pod was their last hope. He really didn't want to think of its other function – an aura transfer pod.
"Alright," he growled resignedly.
Ozpin strode over to the controls, and tapped three switches. The air locks opened with a prominent hiss, and Qrow lifted the lid and slid his arms behind Amber.
Limp.
That wasn't a good sign, thought Qrow, as he turned to carry her over to her old hospital bed in the opposite corner. Amber seemed to stir with the motion, and moved her mouth slightly as she screwed up her eyes.
Then with an orange glow engulfing her body, her aura shattered.
Qrow stopped, only a few metres from the bed but knowing the journey was futile, and would never again be completed. Tears sprung to his eyes. In that moment, Amber died in his arms, at least in his mind. If she was still this weak, completely unchanged after three whole weeks in the best healing technology Remnant had to offer, she was never coming back. Qrow hugged her closer with gritted teeth, tears flooding down past his chin, then released her with a start as Amber let out a sharp gasp of pain, and continued to moan.
He turned, big, slow steps in a wide arc, as if allowing Amber to survey the outside world for the last time despite her closed eyes, then padded gently over to the pod and resealed the door. The hiss of the airlock was much more sinister this time around, knowing she would never come out.
"Why?" said Qrow in a husky voice, to himself, to Ozpin, to no-one in particular. "Why must all the ones I care about die?"
"She's not dead yet, Qrow" replied the headmaster.
"Isn't she?" he countered. "It's over. Ironwood's medical miracle isn't working. Amber's not coming back."
And at those words, he ground his teeth more, and struggled to retain his composure in front of Ozpin. Summer was gone. Raven was barely family anymore, and the one girl he had dared to form any sort of meaningful friendship with, who he had trained to be the most fearsome warrior Vale had seen in years, was also gone.
Professor Ozpin stood by, not saying a word, and knowing that speaking would only make things worse. He knew pain. He had experienced far more than his fair share of it over his many lifetimes, and he knew the worst pain of all was when despite what everyone might tell you, it still felt like it was your fault. Ozpin wasn't immune to this situation either. He had known Amber well, just as he had known many other Maidens.
And he had known many, many other Maidens where he felt responsible for their deaths. The headmaster shivered when his mind flashed back to Amber screaming under the school, touching the door that would steal the rest of her limited life force in the Vault of the Fall Maiden. Amber wasn't on that list yet, but she was fast approaching. And she would be one of the worst additions in his extensive memory.
Now Ozpin's thoughts turned forwards rather than back, and his mind came to rest on that Mistral girl. That Pyrrha Nikos, who, as long as she maintained close to her current meteoric trajectory, would seem next in line to receive these powers. With the situation in hand, and power split between two Fall Maidens, there was no telling what would happen next. But they had to try.
"I suppose we ask Glynda to start making contact" Ozpin whispered softly.
Transcript 2: Lessons learned
Those who didn't learn from history were destined to repeat it. Although Oobleck had already reminded them least a hundred times, thought Jasper, he could certainly see the logic in it.
"Mountains. Snow and ice. An oasis. A kingdom doesn't get founded by accident, students! The four kingdoms were successful in their establishment due to either a wealth of natural resources, or else natural protection against Grimm. The greenery in Vacuo has long since faded, but the capital grew large enough to defend itself when the oasis dried up, and the dust deposits were mined out." Oobleck took a sip from his thermos and rushed over to a map on the board behind him.
"So, the uninformed who visit the city might wonder why it was settled in the first place. After all, students, why you have… you have the ruins of Oniyuri near Mistral and our own Mountain Glenn outside Vale as testament to the difficulty of surviving in this harsh world. But they had little in the way of protection. Now, who can tell me the source of Vacuo's oasis, and the last remaining sign left behind?"
Nero raised his hand quickly.
"Yes, Mr August?"
"An underground spring. The Weeping Wall outside the city is built on the centre of this former water source," Nero responded. "Even today, in the rare occasions it does rain in the desert, the porous rock seeps moisture for weeks afterwards."
"Exactly!" Dr Oobleck took another mouthful from his thermos. "Excellent description, Mr August! A simple wall holds the key to understanding one of the four biggest settlements in Remnant. And so, students, as Huntsmen and Huntresses in training you need to keep a keen eye out for small details like that. It is imperative you put these details together to make sure you don't miss something much more significant! (sip) And back to the case… err… the case of settlements, it's often very valuable to assess smaller, more regional settlements for that source of strength, what resources you have to work with, and thus what you might expect before you even reach their border (sip). For example, Hammerhead Point has cliffs and shallow seas to protect it from attacks, and Mantle turned its most daunting obstacle, the cold of Solitas, into its strength in deterring the Grimm."
Oobleck sipped his coffee one final time, then gave the thermos a quick look of disgust as he realised it was empty again. He turned back to address the students. "As instructors, we must prepare you must take every advantage given before you go roaming about in this unforgiving world. For tomorrow's lesson, I want two pages on Vale's geography prepared it for settlement, or for those from outside Vale, how your home kingdom or village's location protects them from invasion. Class dismissed."
Oobleck's green hair flew out the door, followed by the rest of him, as the bell for lunch began to sound, and the students rose from their desks.
"I swear it's his semblance," muttered Pollen Lightfoot from Team DLPN. "Faster, faster, all the time. Has to be."
A steady stream of the forty freshman students trickled steadily out the door towards the lunch hall, before one figure stopped and turned.
"Hey!" Coco called to Lina. "Come and join us while we wait in line, I've barely seen you the last two weeks." She wrinkled her nose, and pushed her shades back. "Anything to take my mind off Casserole Tuesdays. I'm sure you'll be dying to hear how heroic I was in capturing a gang of dust store thieves."
"I reckon you've been avoiding us because you're salty we picked the good Huntsman shadowing missions before you got there," retaliated Lina. "Playing junior detectives for a week doesn't even compare to protecting an entire village."
To their surprise, the queue moved forwards rather quickly, and they barely had time to exchange pleasantries before the casserole was plopped onto their plates, and they settled down at an almost empty table. The food was quite good for a change, for once coinciding with the faster service, which put them in good spirits as they plowed into their meal.
At least, until the discussions about their last classes began.
"You wouldn't believe how much report writing we had to do during our week fighting crime," said Yatsuhashi, a slight note of agitation creeping into his persistently passive voice. "I had thought we would have a break from it until Dr Oobleck announced this geography assignment."
"It's more than just geography, Yatsu," corrected Velvet. "There are many other land resources at Vale's disposal – although you, Gale and Fox won't be writing about it, you'll be writing about your own homes across Remnant." Her ears drooped a little. "At least it won't be dead boring, we'll be writing the same things as everyone else."
Gale shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew exactly what she would be writing about, and it wasn't just the cliffs and sea which had contributed to her hometown's survival. Hammerhead Point's old, abandoned cemetery had been closed down over fifty years ago, its boundaries nearly encroaching on tillable land and the limited safe living spaces in the township itself, but more importantly because its associated negativity was a magnet to the Grimm. As its size increased, and it grew closer to the public eye, the monsters were so thick it threatened to again make the area uninhabitable, so a collective decision was made to close the cemetery in favour of a different option.
The Scarlet Thread.
The river. The red river, as everyone called it these days, such was its association with the blood of its people, even if not physically spilt. By carrying a body far out to sea on a flaming pyre, the residents of Hammerhead Point considered this a traditional return to the elements which had signalled the rise of mankind, leaving no body left to mourn. A terrible, but necessary sacrifice for their survival. Many people viewed the whole ocean as a place of lost loved ones now, with the fishing trade in Hammerhead Point abounding after the change, feeling a closeness to those who had passed when out on the water.
Gale ground her teeth. Yeah. The river. And the cemetery. She was getting the shivers just bringing them up in her mind, and she didn't particularly look forward to thinking long and hard about either of them.
"What are you going to be writing about, Gale?" piped a voice to her right. "Fox and Nero have told us all about the desert and Vacuo, and Yatsu about Mistral's cliffs and caves, what do you have down in Hammerhead Point?"
Lina. The only girl who she had ever discussed her hometown with more than just in passing. Had she offered to let her visit during the holidays? It hadn't even crossed her mind at the time that it might be an issue. What was wrong with the river? She had lived in Hammerhead Point her whole life, and couldn't remember ever having been actually scared like this before. How much had she suppressed?
"I…"
For once, quick-witted, sharp-tongued Gale was without words, which had to have been a first. The others looked on expectantly.
"There's a river… and a… cemetery and… well…"
"A cemetery?" frowned Nero unknowingly. "How could that be a resource?"
"It's… easier if you see it. It's hard to explain otherwise"
"Is that an invitation?" smirked Fox jokingly.
Damn her swirling thoughts, thought Gale. She had said the one thing she hadn't intended, while trying to steer conversation away from the topic. Beads of sweat which rarely dotted her brow, even in training, began to form in earnest as she opened her mouth wordlessly.
"Gale, are you ok?"
Jasper was whispering to her in a low voice, realised Gale dimly. Of course, he was the closest to her, the only one who could see past the smiling façade. He could see the strain in her facial muscles, and the fractionally different tone to the one he had lived alongside for six months, which CFVY and the others further away couldn't quite see.
Gale knew she didn't have a choice anymore. She had to go back there one day, had to find out this situation, and there was only one option left. Finding it out with her friends would be better than going alone. But she didn't have to tell them about it yet. How would she explain it?
She drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.
"Yes," she replied to both questions.
Transcript 3: Discussion time
"Rapier wasps. Small Grimm in sheltered areas. A good hiding place, or a dead end trapping you inside? Location, location, location."
Ann Greene, the stealth and security professor, loved probing her students with open-ended questions. For all the formality and strict appearance, Professor Greene genuinely enjoyed the discussions that arose from all the puzzles she posed her students.
"So with this in mind, if you were forced to retreat to a place of safety, would you rather sleep in a dark cave, or up atop a tall tree in the forest?
None of the first years answered for a few seconds, then Hunter Anstone raised his hand.
"That depends on what's in the cave…"
Professor Greene waved her hand in a thoughtful gesture. "True… but how do you know what's inside? And the type of tree, what impact would that have on your decision?"
Slowly, the class started to come alive with suggestions.
"Well, I guess you can't know if you can't SEE…"
"But neither can others outside the cave if you are in there…"
"What if it's a hollow tree?"
"Unless they can see in the dark, of course…"
"And Grimm. Grimm will be attracted to you in caves by stress or other negative emotions as well…"
"Trees are better vantage points!"
"You'd better hope there's more than one exit to that cave in that case…"
Professor Greene held up a hand. "Alright students, that's wonderful! As you have so readily demonstrated, one environment is not objectively better than any other, depending strongly on your circumstances. There are many questions that need to be addressed to assess a potential bunker – are you being chased, or simply sheltering? Are there people or Grimm after you, and what are their abilities? Are you likely to be surrounded? Is there an alternative if you are trapped and what are your immediate needs? Most of these points you have already covered in some form or other in just those last few sentences."
She gestured to the board and wrote down the points as she finished talking. "Next year, we will be expanding on environments in other continents, and the probability of surviving particular environments which can help you make more informed decisions, but for now, your main priority is to practise asking all these questions yourself to sharpen your environmental analysis skills." The professor put down the chalk and folded her glasses. "Remember, these abilities will be covered in the end of year assessments in a few weeks' time. Class dismissed."
Interesting, thought Lina, a satisfied smile spreading across her lips. The teachers weren't usually so blunt regarding the assessment material, but it never hurt to know what to focus on for the final exam.
"I'm not quite sure what she means by that," expressed Nero as the first years filtered towards the dorms to prepare for the weekend. "Are they going to ask us about those five points, or just a general situation?"
"Who knows," responded Leo Cross of Team SYLC. "They're probably making sure we learn it properly for next year, and then will ask us about the rest of the content instead."
"Maybe." Nero shrugged. "I mean, they do like to throw curveballs at us."
Roman walked around and around the chair, talking and gesturing to the walls with his cane, Melodic Cudgel.
"A mole? A traitor in our ranks?" he questioned himself. "Or just a scared little boy, with a big, babbling mouth?" The level of fake concern in his voice was thick and slightly terrifying to the young gang member, hands tied behind his back as he tried to follow the circling figure.
"Tell me" instructed Torchwick, a little more venom creeping into the sarcastic tone. "Which is it?"
"The… the second one, boss."
"LIAR!" Roman thumped Melodic Cudgel over the man's head, the blow barely dampened by the stiff black hat on his scalp.
"I gave you the chance to redeem yourself, to at least go down with a little honour!" He finally turned, gaze boring directly into his captive's eyes. The eyes narrowed.
"Honour? You don't know the first thing about honour! Look at what you do!"
"Well," Roman mocked, turning away again to pick up a new cigar. "If you mean honour in the sense of 'oh, I pledge my allegiance to serve this world and protect it from aaaallllll evil', like those Huntsman academies, then I guess you're right. I gave up on that sort of thinking long ago."
The man continued staring, the sinking feeling of defeat finally beginning to seep into his mind. Surely there was no way out of this after that rash sentence.
"So, are you going to kill me?"
Roman chuckled, then growled as he struggled to light the cigar in the damp air of the warehouse.
"After that stunt you just pulled, Crimson? Crying out and alerting the authorities to our presence last night, and nearly getting us caught? Pretty deliberate, I must say. But it takes spirit to pull something like that. And I admire spirit. There are four rules I follow that have helped me to get where I am today: lie, steal, cheat, and survive."
Roman crouched down beside the chair, and put his arm around the unfortunate Crimson. "It must take a LOT of spirit to lie and cheat your BOSS like that… I'm almost inclined to let you live, don't you think we're so alike?"
Beads of sweat began travelling down Crimson's face. Torchwick still hadn't really answered him, but it felt like the knife was being twisted deeper and deeper in his chest with each sentence. If this was torture, he was surely in the presence of a master.
"And are you happy with where that got you?" Crimson responded finally, accepting defeat. "Head overlord of an underground crime syndicate?"
Roman snorted, and rose from beside the chair, swinging his cane in a circle with a loud, echoing laugh.
"Me? The big, bad boss? Oh, if only you could hear how every word coming from your mouth sounds more and more naïve! Me? Standing here in front of you? I'm not even allowed to SEE the real mastermind, and I barely even have contact with the subordinates!"
What the hell was going on, thought Crimson as Roman continued to parade around the warehouse.
"Oh, that's rich!" said the back of the orange hair. "Are you stupid enough to think I can cheat and lie to someone that much more powerful than me? That's the problem! I can't stop them, you can't stop them, and as long as I'm on their good side, they don't care what I'm doing! If you'd been listening, you'd remember there is another rule – survive!"
"And… are you going to let me survive?"
Roman whipped around and pointed Melodic Cudgel at Crimson's head, sending a flare directly into the shocked face of his prisoner.
"You really haven't been paying attention, have you?" he said to the remains. "Rule four. Don't cross someone more powerful than you. You won't… survive."
