A/N: Part two of the chapter! A wee bit of bonding, a conversation with Headmaster Ozpin, and the set-up for canon (which is next chapter!)
On average, it takes a civilian with an awakened Aura about an hour and a half at a light jog to reach from the outskirts of the Forever Fall Forest to the gates of Vale City proper, great hulking monstrosities of light grey stone and metal. I weigh well above the average civilian, with about a hundred pounds of armor and equipment and an indeterminable (for the sake of my mental and physical health, I'm not even going to try) mass of cat Faunus slung over my shoulder. I've been in an armed shootout that ended in grave physical injury for both myself and the other combatant, my exoskeleton is at less than half of its operating power, functioning more as dead-weight than anything else, and I will again point out, because this is important, that I have a very awake and very annoyed girl wrapped up in an electrified net weapon dangling over the side of my shoulder the whole way there. Suffice it to say, it did not take me an hour and a half to reach the gates of Vale City.
What felt like an eternity but was in reality about three hours later, I'm at the gates, and Ms. Belladonna is still as vocally upset as I assume she always is. Real big fan of sulking and pouting, that one is. The guards are justifiably rather spooked at seeing a man pushing two hundred pounds, with a sword in one hand and captive in the other whistling and dancing a merry jig as he hauls his fine ass back into civilization. Said fine man with said fine ass is me, of course, but the sandy-haired fellow manning the check-in station doesn't quite see it that way, nearly discharging his standard issue Valean Guardsman's Rifle in my general direction upon first sight.
I tucked my sword back into its sheath at my back, the blade of Crocea Mors retracting as the whole weapon settles comfortably into the rectangle that is the shield's compressed form. "Lovely afternoon gentlemen," I call out, my now-free hand fishing around in the breast pocket of my jacket. They stiffen even further at that, another Guardsman now openly aiming at me. "Ah, relax, boys. Just grabbing my papers." I say, mostly to assuage them. Even at this point in my exhaustion, a couple of two-bit Guardsmen aren't exactly going to be a huge threat, but more hassle means more distance between me and a soft bed and a stiff drink. It also means more paperwork, as I'm sure M and more likely Headmaster Ozpin and the Vale Council won't take too kindly to federal employees getting thrashed by a strange man in a suit.
After a few testy seconds, the only noise being the light ruffling of my hand in my pocket, I manage to withdraw the requisite papers and identification, presenting them to the distrustful gaze of the Guardsman at the check-in station. He takes them almost skittishly, a hand darting out in front of the thick bullet-proof glass case and drawing back in just as quickly to retrieve the documents I provided. Blake has thankfully stopped yammering at this point, slinking over the end of my shoulder rather akin to a cat and staring dully at the gates, and what lays within.
After a few minutes, Vale's finest have apparently scanned through my identification papers and not found them wanting. "Ah, are you going to be entering the city with your weapons, sir?" One Guardsman stammers out, clutching his rifle all the tighter. I just smile disarmingly at him, patting my back where Crocea Mors and the shield are kept, before squatting down a few inches and hefting Blake off of my shoulder in one smooth motion. She yelps, before hitting the ground in a tangle of limbs and a strangled grunt of surprise. The net-weapon that forms Retiarius unfurls, the inert (for now) powdered lightning and fire Dust mixture coiling around itself until it forms a vaguely spherical mass, my Aura cocooning around the ball and directing it into an open container at my hip. I keep about a kilogram of the stuff on me at all times, which is enough for a Retiarius net in each hand should I somehow lose Crocea Mors or whatever gun I've got on hand at the time.
"Yes, I'll be entering with my weapons, gentlemen. That won't be a problem, will it? I believe I've attached all the required documents for that, no?" I ask, an easy smile still on my face. The Guardsman at the check-in station files through the small stack of papers I had presented him, no doubt looking for my official Mistralian Security pass. After a few moments, he finds the small card, no bigger than my driver's license and about twice as thick. The Guardsman looked it over, before handing me the entire stack carefully. He's still got that look on his face, halfway between crapping his pants in fear and wanting to shoot me in distrust. Everybody's a critic these days, I suppose.
"We hope you enjoy your stay in Vale, sir." He manages to choke out, a white-knuckled grip still on his rifle. I simply snort, letting loose a wry chuckle as I gently guide Blake and myself through the slowly opening gates. She's still rather numb from the bumpy ride, and it takes a few seconds for her to work the feeling back into her legs and keep up with my rather long strides. The black-haired Faunus had grabbed onto her weapon as soon as she had gotten free; solid survival instincts at the very least. Or at least, as solid of survival instincts as one can have when they willingly decide to side with Adam Taurus, I suppose.
"You ever been to Vale before, Ms. Belladonna?" I ask, mostly to pass the time. We're walking through the first sector of the city now, primarily industrial buildings and the odd shop or two. It's not dusty or anything, Vale being rather clean and crime-free all things considered, but it's obviously one of the lower-class sections of the city, and the faded brick and mortar of buildings around us shows that quite clearly. My companion simply narrows her eyes in distrust at me, only the harsh reminder of our initial meeting keeping her hands from straying towards her strange combination weapon. For a moment I think she's simply not going to respond, intent on ignoring me altogether, before I hear her speak for the first time in hours.
"No, I can't say I have." Her voice is still sore from the stress of the day, her tone guarded and soft. I simply offer her a small smile, beckoning for the beautiful Faunus to keep following after me. "Well," I respond. "I've been a few times. Not many, mind you, but enough to have a general sense of direction. We're going to walk for a few more blocks east, then I'm going to make a call and most likely we'll get a cab and get you to a safehouse, alright?" The time for harsh interrogations and electrified net weapons is clearly over; now it's just a very tired girl who probably made some split-second decisions that dramatically altered her life next to me. A gentler touch is perhaps needed.
She nods stiffly, and we simply walk in silence for a few minutes. Just as I had promised, after five blocks we had moved from the lower-class districts into what appeared to be a shopping mall, massive lots for parking and a four-story complex that housed at least a hundred stores. Our destination was the parking garage itself, the two of us making our way past the doors and into the elevator itself. Blake looked rather confused. "You said we were going to a safe-house!" She accused me, her hand flexing and un-flexing as she fought the urge to reach for her weapon. I smiled again, before pushing a very specific sequence of buttons. The door for the fire-alarm system opened with a hydraulic hiss, and I reached in again for my breast pocket, pulling out my security pass. One card swipe later and the small door closed. "We are." I simply replied, enjoying the dulcet tones of elevator music as we descended six floors.
The parking garage, as I'm sure my companion noticed by now, only had buttons for four floors of subterranean space, plus a tiny fifth floor that functions as a closet for maintenance supplies more than anything. This apparently non-existent sixth floor was our goal, and probably my home for the next few days, at least until Ozpin and M gave me leave to find an apartment. As the elevator doors opened, we were greeted by the sight of a standard, if somewhat large, U.N.C.L.E. safehouse. The living-space was rather large, an open-air affair that combined living room, kitchen and foyer all in one with an enormous screen and computer dominating one entire wall. There were two bedrooms off to one side, their doors closed to us at the moment, and in the center of the house was a couch. Said couch housed my two least-favorite occasional coworkers, one of whom was bandaging the other.
Neptune flinched as the doors of our elevator opened, his hand going a little tight over the gauze he had been applying to Sun. The monkey faunus yelped as the bandage was wound too tight, his head turning as if on a swivel to stare at us, before a big beaming smile overtook his face. "Jaune, you're back! What happened out there?" He shouted, jumping up fluidly and ignoring the stumbling and nagging of his partner as he bounded over to us. I gave the two agents a stiff nod, before moving to the side and letting Blake walk out of the elevator and in to the little safe-house as well.
My coworkers' responses were... not great. Sun jumped back as quickly as he had walked over, carefully biting away the barely hidden groan that had arisen when he agitated his prior bruises. In a flash, his twin staves were in hand, his prehensile tail curled over his shoulder. Neptune was even worse, practically diving over the coffee table in front of the couch they were previously occupying and leveling Tri-Hard in its rifle form at my companion. "Jaune," Neptune started with a rather wary tone. "What is she doing here?"
I put up both my hands in a placating manner, choosing to ignore the way Blake had reacted, her weapon mechshifting into its gun mode and pointed back at Neptune as she took up a stance behind me. "Everybody, please relax. We've got a weird situation here, and I need to make a call. Neptune, Sun, just take care of your wounds for now. Blake, no shooting, please?" The three hardly let up, each still poised and ready to strike at the first sign of trouble. I really don't need this fucking stress right now, I swear.
Neptune raised his head slightly, breaking position away from aiming his rifle as he glanced over at us. Sun was second to follow, his tail visibly relaxing as he twirled the staves idly, letting them click together into one staff that he carefully put back on the couch, not breaking eye contact with Blake for even a moment. The ex-terrorist was last to acquiesce, pointing her weapon down towards the ground and slipping her finger off of the trigger, though not putting it away quite yet. Well, it's a start, I suppose.
The rather tense situation at least somewhat defused for now, I walked forward, my body moving on auto-pilot as I ran through the necessary steps to prepare fresh coffee. After a minute or so of staring at each other balefully, the two U.N.C.L.E. agents and my wayward captive/companion relaxed as well, Sun walking stiffly over to the couch where he laid down once again. Neptune, thankfully without his rifle in hand, went back to treating the cuts and scrapes that his partner had accrued. And Blake went back to stiffly following after me, attempting to stare holes into the back of my head. Yes, I can tell, no it's not working, you silly girl. If M and my mom couldn't make me spontaneously combust with a stare, I highly doubt some ex-terrorist with attachment issues can.
It takes a few minutes to make coffee from scratch. There's the coffee-maker, of course, but I've learned to eschew that in favor of a glass brewer. Frankly, it's not that difficult. Coffee beans get ground on a mortar and pestle, a paper filter is inserted into the brewer and moistened with hot water, grinds go into paper filter, water goes in, and eventually, out drips coffee. No mess, no fuss, and a small but very important dollop of honey makes my life all that much more worth living. I took a sip, closing my eyes as I simply stood still and enjoyed the smooth and balanced flavor. "You, uh, you want a glass, Blake?" I offered.
She nodded shyly, taking the offered second cup a few minutes later. For nearly ten minutes we stood there, silently enjoying the coffee after a long day at work. As with all good things though, the delectable refreshment had to end, and I sighed almost exaggeratedly as the cup came past horizontal across my lips. "Well, I don't know about you, but I needed that. Let's get you set up in a bedroom, alright? Take whichever one you want, lie down for a bit. I need to make a call, and we're going to get this all figured out, alright?" She still looked rather frazzled, and Oum knows I can't blame her for it, but this last few minutes has gone a long way towards building at least a modicum of trust. Enough that she won't sprint out the elevator at the first chance? Maybe, I don't know. But enough for her to follow my suggestion and take residence in one of the two rooms.
Sun and Neptune left shortly afterwards, something about needing to send in their reports to U.N.C.L.E headquarters and be back to Haven. Good thing I don't have to go undercover as a student, man that would suck!
Finally, the moment of judgement. I walked over to the wall where the screen and computer stood, punching in my log-in info with practiced ease. A few moments later, and I'm accompanied by the dull ringing of a scroll call, waiting for the other end to pick up. One ring, two, three, and a fourth go unanswered before the man at the other end of the call picks up, and all of a sudden my very large screen is taken up by a truly impressive visage.
He's perhaps four or five inches taller than I am, with none of the bulk or mass. I would go as far as to call him thin, spindly even. Grey hair, almost to the point of shining silver, in a rather tousled manner not dissimilar to my own. A pair of small circular sunglasses sitting across a sharp nose, half-hiding bright brown eyes and jet-black eyebrows. Interesting, a sign of premature aging perhaps? Either that or hair dye, I would imagine. He's sitting behind an opulent desk, all varnished oak and little knick-knacks from his tenure, fingers steepled together in front of his face. Interestingly enough, I can spy faint wisps of steam coming from just out of frame; a fellow connoisseur of hot beverages.
He's dressed rather elegantly, an open black suit jacket atop a dark green vest, a light green silk shirt and a verdant cowl with a cross pin at the center, tucked into his shirt like some strange sort of ascot. Not a fan of ties? I can relate. After a few seconds of mutual silence, I realize that I'm staring rather intently at him, and he's doing much the same at me. "I would assume you're Headmaster Ozpin, correct?" I state to break the ice, so to speak.
He smiles rather enigmatically, before nodding sharply. "Indeed I would be, Mr. Arc. I must say, I was expecting your call in a day or so, though of course I'm not displeased by your preemptive measures to make contact. I do have to wonder, what would be the cause?" Perceptive, thy name is Ozpin.
I coughed lightly into my fist, clearing away a bit of the tiredness and grime of the day, before continuing. "Some things came up in the last twenty-four hours that required me to get to a safe-house for a short rest and recuperation. I'm sure you're a very busy man, so I thought it best to get this out of the way and leave you to your duties, sir."
Ozpin looked askance, one hand gently untangling itself from the other to reach for the beverage off-screen, before bringing into frame what was probably the most ridiculous mug I had ever seen. It was wide, almost comically so, a huge grey cup more akin to a bowl with a handle and the words "I Heart Beacon" engraved across the top. The man took a long sip, clearly savoring the beverage, before putting it down, the words staring me right in the face. "Excuse me, Mr. Arc, I feel my voice can be rather dry this time of year. Ah, coffee, one of life's greatest joys." I weakly smiled back at him, hoisting my own now-empty cup in camaraderie. If anything, his smile seemed to grow at that, a genuine grin stretching across his face. "A fellow caffeinator, I see! How lovely, Mr. Arc. Your peers seem to prefer their sugary confections and processed energy drinks nowadays, but it's a pleasure to see a young man who abides by the classics. Ah, but I suppose we didn't come here to discuss delicious beverages, after all." His voice turned rather serious at that, his hands steepling once again as he leaned forward in his chair to stare at me from behind his tiny sunglasses. "What has changed, Mr. Arc?"
I swallowed reflexively, truly aware for the first time just who this man was, and what he had done. The image of a genial educator and whimsical headmaster was well-crafted, to be sure, but Ozpin was a peerless Huntsman himself, not to mention a political powerhouse within Vale. The council could speak out the sides of their necks all they wanted, they could raise any sort of fuss that they wished to, but without Ozpin and his academy Vale was little more than bloated bureaucracy and a city on a hill. Toothless. Weak. Unguarded.
"After meeting with Agents Vasilias and Wukong, the U.N.C.L.E. and Mistralian Intelligence joint task-force was able to push back the terrorist code-name Raging Bull and secure the SDC train and its cargo. Damages are primarily superficial, and real shrinkage of SDC assets, namely Dust, was minimized to the best of our ability. Costs for repairs of the train and replacement of the automated defense systems are estimated to be within 4 million Lien altogether." So far Ozpin was simply listening, scratching down a few numbers into his scroll. I continued. "After engaging personally with code-name Raging Bull, the two of us were blown off course into the Forever Fall forest, where the terrorist sustained serious but non-life-threatening wounds, primarily a shattered arm. I would estimate several weeks to full recovery, assuming no infection or severe bone fragmentation. Approximately two hours later, I apprehended a runaway, claiming to be fleeing from code-name Raging Bull specifically and the White Fang organization generally. After securing her, I brought her to this safe-house, designated as VSZ-0021, where we currently are. I need to rendezvous with both yourself and M in order to get her to an interrogator within Valean jurisdiction, and to receive the specifics of my mission from you, sir."
After that, I simply petered off into silence, waiting for a response from the enigmatic Headmaster. Ozpin didn't quite answer at first, still clearly thinking things through, before he set his hands down, leaning back slightly to his original position. "I see, Mr. Arc." He said, diverting one hand back to his scroll for a few seconds. "And the captive's name? I imagine you could have called in for an extradition back to Mistral, what with Agents Vasilias and Wukong with you. But you didn't; you've brought her to a safe-house and kept her under the implicit protection of three Intelligence Officers, yourself included. She's clearly someone important, isn't she?" He asked, smiling that not-so-nice smile again.
I gulped, nodding once, not trusting myself to keep from saying something snarky. "Yes, sir... Her name is Blake Belladonna." At this he simply sighed, nodding as if it was obvious all along. Could it have been? I have no idea what sort of security this man has set up within Vale, or even the Forever Fall forest. Could he have tailed me somehow? Before the thoughts could run wild in my head, Ozpin put up one hand, exhaling loudly through his nose in a sigh yet again. "I see, Agent Arc. Well, that is rather convenient indeed." What, convenient? How?
"I'm not sure I quite understand, sir." I replied, my confusion rather evident by my tone. He smiled, bringing his stupidly large mug back up to his lips for another drink, before responding in an altogether too cheeky tone. "You're in luck, Agent. Ms. Belladonna has sent in an application to Beacon Academy, and has been accepted as a Huntress Trainee. I'm sure you'll be able to get whatever information out of her that you need."
What does that have to do with anything? I knew I was going to be working in Vale, and more likely than not working under Ozpin directly, but I wasn't aware of a job within Beacon Academy itself. "I'm, uh, still not sure I'm following you, Headmaster."
The smugness in his tone was almost cloying. "Well, Mr. Arc, it's rather simple really. I have need of you on Beacon Academy grounds for the next few months as part of the assignment you've undertaken. I'm sure your skills will help you blend in rather easily, and there's a more than likely chance you'll be seeing the young Ms. Belladonna quite often in our hallowed halls."
What is he trying to get at here? I'm tired, the caffeine still hasn't quite hit me yet, and my body hurts. My equipment needs to be repaired, my sword needs to be sharpened and oiled (no, not that one!) and I desperately need a night of sleep at this point. "Sir," I managed to bite out. "With all due respect, please just say what you're trying to say. I've had a very long day."
He smiled, tapping his cup with his index finger lightly. "Please do give Ms. Belladonna my congratulations as well. On behalf of the staff, we'd like to formally welcome you both to the Beacon Academy for Huntsmen and Huntresses. Initiation is in three days." With that, he cut off the connection, plunging the once-bright room into almost total darkness. I stood up, my brain not quite making the connections. Or rather, it was stubbornly refusing to, because no way in hell am I going to a school with a bunch of green brats!
"Oh god," I whispered, my eyes widening. "I sound like my fucking drill instructor." And with that, I silently opened the left-most cabinet in the kitchen, retrieving two glasses and the bottle within, and made my way to the bedroom Blake had taken residence in. A quiet knock later and I walked in, noting with the bare minimum of conscience that Blake had taken off her stupid vest-jacket hybrid and laid there in an undershirt and pants. She stirred slightly, half-asleep, before bolting up and looking at me. I just sort of stared back at her like a dead fish, my face expressionless, a bottle in one hand and two glasses held loosely by the flutes in the other.
"We're celebrating," I drawled out in the most deadpan voice I could muster. "You like Vale Bourbon?" Yes, it is a work-day. Yes, it is still technically in the afternoon. And yes, I need a double-shot right this fucking instant.
A/N: Aaaaaaand chapter done! Next chapter: Shitty Kitty opens up a little! Blake and Agent Arc go shopping! Blake and Agent Arc foil a Dust Robbery! Agent Arc has a lovely conversation with an older woman and meets Ozpin in the flesh! Said older woman is less than amused.
As always, please leave a review; it means a lot and will help me better my writing.
To address the guest reviews:
Guest says:
"Honestly, I feel like Torchwick would have been perfect for the spy role, but I understand if you don't want to change the cannon too much."
I've got plans for Roman! He'll be playing a big part for sure.
paradoxreader says:
"nice story but hope you dont hyper glorify blake since she is genuinely a annoying hypocrite character and who is numingly stupid and naive for someone who is supposedly out in the world and seen the worst...probbaly cause she is a princess who got shown what people want her to ser...
on another note excited to see team jnpr and how he is going to interact with them cause i absolutely love team jnpr eccentric n charscter more than other character and how much you can explore their character...other than that maybe make pryhha the one gal who jaune always wants to return to and be with...the one good gal in his heart"
Thank you for the kind words! Blake will be playing a fairly big part in this story, but I'll do my best to not glorify her. She's got some serious issues that she needs to get over, and they need to be addressed. As for JNPR, I'm not sure I'm going to be keeping the teams as canon. Pyrrha will be an interesting character to work with, no spoilers on that front!