Chapter IX
Professor Ozpin sat at his clockwork desk in deep contemplation. His eyes traced over the digitally displayed lists of academic duties he need address for the day before finally landing on the mug containing his fresh morning brew. Reluctantly, Ozpin picked up his mug and resigned himself to work. Contrary to popular belief, the responsibilities and workload of being the Headmaster of Beacon Academy allowed little time for freedom, though that never stopped him from taking time off before. In the harsh world of Remnant that they lived in, whether ravaged by Grimm or mortal conflict, peace of mind was a luxury.
Sadly, it was a luxury taken for granted nowadays. A finite luxury guaranteed to soon be ripped away from them unless they could do something about it.
Taking a brief sip, Ozpin's attention was interrupted by the faint rumblings of the elevator gears moving. The noise would have otherwise gone by without notice had it been any other time of the day, but everything noise seemed acute in the morning haze. Rechecking one of the displays on his desk, Ozpin furrowed his brow. There wasn't an appointment listed on the schedule. Setting down his mug, Ozpin pressed a spot on his desk and made all the lists vanish for the time being. Opzin patiently awaited with folded hands for whomever was arriving.
Ding!
The elevator doors parted to reveal their residential future cyborg.
"Good morning, Mr. Arc."
Arc lumbered into the office chamber, "Professor."
Ozpin took a brief pause to study the being before him. Despite being fairly acquainted, it still fascinated the professor that the person in front of him was a living herald of the future, much less his student once upon a time. Yet, despite the awe, his presence alone reminded Ozpin of what was yet to come.
"And what might bring you here today?" Ozpin asked.
"It's about Jaune."
Ozpin idly adjusted his glasses, "I take it that your instruction is going well?"
Arc paused for a moment, "Yes and no; he needs much more training before he's at a competent ability for what is yet to come."
"I see."
"In order for this to happen, he needs more time to train, which is why I requesting that Jaune be exempted from all his classes in order to make room for further training."
The easeful atmosphere suddenly became rigid. Ozpin calmly locked his gaze with Arc's. The silence between them was only punctuated by the CCT's ambient metallic ticking. Ozpin gave considerable thought before he finally spoke.
"I am afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Arc," Ozpin answered. Though the cybernetic knight never moved, the headmaster could see the subtle affronted look in his visible eye.
"Why not?" Arc questioned.
"Because Jaune is, first and foremost, a student and therefore must take his enrolled classes."
Arc's eye narrowed slightly, "The future is at risk here and you insist he continue playing the role of a mere student?"
Ozpin straightened himself in his seat, "Knowledge is what keeps us safe, Mr. Arc, and surely you learned a thing or two in your classes during your time as a student here, correct?"
"Yes," Arc admitted, "but I can teach him what he needs to know."
"And...what exactly does he need to know, Mr. Arc?"
"Maneuvers, techniques, Dust application, his range abilities," Arc listed off, "I could go on."
"In addition to refining his combat abilities?"
"To accomplish both, I need Jaune to be more available, which brings me back to my request."
"Your request sounds more like a demand."
Arc's shoulders tensed, but no retort came. Ozpin calmly grabbed his mug and took a long sip of his drink before returning to their conversation.
"Jaune," Ozpin began, "you know as well as I do that the Darkness has eyes and ears everywhere, including here at Beacon. Like I said before, if we are to counteract our infiltrators, we must conceal our actions. You've already given us the advantage we so needed, but the enemy doesn't know that. They don't know we know their identities. Any sort of irregular behavior or action and we lose this advantage. Allowing a current student to attend Beacon without having to take any classes blares suspicion as clear as day."
"My point still stands, Professor," Arc replied, "we don't have much time."
"Indeed," Ozpin said and set his mug down.
With intertwined fingers and a leg crossed over, the headmaster looked up at the giant cyborg.
"I will allow Jaune to drop a few of his classes to grant more time for your training," Ozpin explained, "but he still must meet the minimum amount to be considered enrolled."
"He needs more time than that," Arc muttered grimly, already having done the calculations in his head.
"That is my ultimatum, Mr. Arc."
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. It was an unspoken battle of wills between the two. Though both of them wanted the same thing, neither could seemingly agree on how to go about it. Ozpin knew that his methods did not suit well with Arc, given his reaction back when the cyborg was informing his inner circle of future events, but Arc had agreed to his methods before. Ozpin only hoped that Arc would do so once more.
"So be it," Arc conceded, "I will inform Jaune of our agreement."
With that said, Arc turned around and made his way to the elevator. Ozpin watched him go, noting the scratches and blemishes coating the backside of his armor.
"Jaune," Ozpin said.
Arc silently glanced over his shoulder. Only the helmeted side of his face and its glowing eye slits peered at the Headmaster.
"Have faith," Ozpin implored, "we will save the future."
Once the elevator opened, Arc reverted his head and stepped inside the compartment. Ozpin continued to watch until the cyborg departed from sight. Quietly, he pulled out his scroll.
"When will it be finished?"
"In due time, I assure you."
"We don't have time, General."
An exasperated groan almost slipped from General Ironwood. It had already been a dismal situation that brought him and his military to the Kingdom of Vale. Then it is revealed that everything they feared becomes a tangible reality and destroys his fleet, the Kingdom of Vale and Beacon Academy. But with dreadful apprehension came foretelling knowledge, to which General Ironwood seized and acted upon.
Which is what brought him here. The days following their meeting with the future cyborg found the General fortifying all of his fleet's defenses and, most importantly, upgrading the network mainframe that controlled every single Atlesian android stationed with them. The first of these two tasks was moderately simple; the latter was far more complex.
Around him in the flagship command center, bustling Atlesian technicians were hard at work trying to reconfigure the entirety of the fleet's networks. Such a task required not only rewriting codes and uploading new programs to purge the former ones, but the dismantlement and reassembly of a few major systems housed within the airships. All while still keeping the fleet on standby in case of emergencies.
Despite renowned Atlesian ingenuity and astute intelligence, the process was incredibly slow.
"I am fully aware," General Ironwood said to the screen in front of him. Displayed on the screen was the future cyborg himself, calling for an update on the progress. While the General was technically not obligated to answer to the man, he still felt inclined to inform. It was the least he could do after all the future cyborg had told him.
"My men have made a small amount of progress thus far, roughly two percent, but it is hard to give an accurate estimation," the General reported, "the process is turning out to be more extensive than we predicted."
"At this rate, General, your systems won't be fully restored by the time the Vytal Festival begins." Arc remarked sharply.
General Ironwood grimaced, "We are working around the clock with everything we have, but even then, we can only do so much."
"Do what you must, General," Arc said, "the safety of Remnant depends on it."
The pressing weight of stress on his shoulders seemingly increased, much to the discomfort of the headmaster of Atlas. Despite the pressure, the man still held a steadfast demeanor. It would certainly be unwise for him to show any signs of losing his composure, especially in front of his men who viewed him as a guiding presence. The very same men hard at work revamping their very own Atlesian technology. With that note in mind, a thought suddenly came to General Ironwood.
He turned his attention back to the cybernetic being on the miniature screen, "Perhaps you could help us then? With your body being comprised of advanced Atlesian tech, surely you could offer us a better means to speed this up?"
General Ironwood watched Arc's head tilt in what he assumed was contemplation and noticed readings flutter across Arc's eyepiece, undoubtingly data. It didn't take long for Arc to reply though.
"I cannot assist with that," Arc stated, "my neural programs and databases are designed to compensate for my lack of biological senses, store memory, make decisive calculations and increase my efficiency in combat; none that would aid in rewriting entire command systems."
"Atlas doesn't have that level of technology in the future?" the General asked.
"No, we do, but my Mark VI-Centurion Stealth body was never installed with such," Arc admitted, "a network coding program provides zero advantages when combating hordes of Grimm."
"I see," Ironwood muttered, placing a gloved hand over his chin. He understood the mentality of being a soldier, which Arc evidently was, and could relate to the need of utilizing what was required to be solely combat ready. But such mentality had, unknowingly, cost them a prime opportunity.
"Is there any way you could possibly help us in this?
Arc paused for a moment, "No, but perhaps Penny Polendina can assist where I cannot."
This garnered a subtle yet visible shock from the General. Only two people knew of the mechanical of Penny Polendina: himself and Penny's creator. Not even Ozpin knew of it. To the world, she was just a normal girl.
Arc took noticed and calmly pressed on, "Her background is known to me, General; the Penny in my timeline had exceptional computer skills."
General Ironwood felt his nerves die down and his judgment return, "But that was in your timeline. How are we to know if Miss Polendina is capable of such a feat right now?"
"She is able to learn, General," Arc said, "and for the sake of Remnant, I hope she learns fast."
General Ironwood nodded in agreement. Though the current situation was still the same, at least they now had something - someone - to assist them. Why didn't he think of utilizing Penny sooner?
But now was not the time for self berating. They had more knowledge in hand. Perhaps they could circumvent the future after all.
"Thank you for your help, Arc," General Ironwood said, "our actions today and ongoing will prepared us for the Vytal Festival and ensure the safety of Remnant permanently."
"On that we can agree entirely, General."
The video transmission ended.
The brisk coastal breeze swept through the silent, moonlit streets of the warehouse district. Ever since the White Fang recruiting event-turned-fiasco, the decimated area, courtesy of Roman Torchwick piloting a stolen Atlesian Paladin-290, lacked any activity whatsoever. Any stolen goods and equipment once stored in these areas had been moved to safer and more remote locations once the Vale Police Department began sending a few of their men-in-black-suspenders to probe around. Now with both Torchwick's syndicate and the White Fang operations moved elsewhere, all that remained now were the abandoned buildings and litter stirring around from the breeze.
And one dark-skinned, mint-green haired girl roaming through the place.
Emerald Sustrai's red eyes leisurely gazed about her surroundings. She really didn't have a reason to be out, much less in a rundown place like this, but couldn't a girl just go for a walk? With the start of the semester in a few days and the Vytal Festival coming sooner, it felt like everything around her had begun to pick up speed. On a calm night like this, there was no better way to clear her head of her roaming thoughts.
But with every step she took, Emerald's mind continued to linger on the most insidious yet fervent thought of all: Cinder's plan.
Her thoughts trailed back to her mentor/savior and their carefully thought out plan. While she personally would have done things a bit differently, Emerald would never dare question Cinder's judgment and decisions. Everything had to align perfectly if they were to bring down everything around them. From the city of Vale to Beacon Academy to the Amity Colosseum, it would all come crashing down.
That thought gave Emerald pause though. A small part inside of her knew that this was wrong. Lives would be lost. Innocents would perish. Everything around her that she had become somewhat familiar with would be gone. All because of this plan, this manipulatively complex plan, of Cinder's.
With pressed lips, Emerald squelched the insignificant wrench in her gut and reasserted what she already knew deep down inside: she didn't care about the consequences, she was doing this for Cinder.
Cinder, the woman who pulled her off the streets and gave her a life. A purpose. Everything.
These people have done nothing for her. While young children slept cozily in their beds with naïve dreams of prosperity and adventure, Emerald had scavenged the streets for her next meal and survival in the nightmare of life.
Society had casted her out a long time ago. It had taught values of good and help to live by while it ruthlessly threw her out to fend on her own.
Remnant never cared for her and she gladly returned the favor.
'It's a decent night at least,' Emerald breathed in her head. She pushed her thoughts aside. She didn't even think about the Vytal Festival; she had time to worry about that later. Now was a rare moment of peace and quiet all to herself alone. The best part of it all? Mercury wasn't even around to ruin.
Emerald's muscles tensed with unease. It was a too familiar feeling she had grown accustomed to all her life. She wasn't alone anymore. A stranger had entered the scene unbeknownst to her. Emerald froze and whipped around with her kamas aimed and ready. Her red eyes scanned the empty street, slowly darting at every shadow. Whomever was following her was hiding, but still watching. Taking a step back, Emerald continued to seek out her stalker until a tiny glimpse of glowing blue caught her eye on top a building. She craned her head up to see and felt her breath hitch in response.
Rising on the shadowy ledge and into the pale moonlight stood the cybernetic knight, cladded in white power armor and all. She had heard the many rumors of this individual from the gossip around Beacon. Some said he was an new Atlesian Paladin prototype controlled by an A.I. Others claimed he was just a guy in a very advanced tech suit. But out of all speculation, Emerald was now certain of one thing: he was real and his asymmetrically helmeted face was boring down at her.
It was unsettling.
"You know that's totally weird, right?" Emerald finally spoke, trying to ease up the situation and calm her nerves.
The cybernetic knight remained silent and unmoving. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to run, but Emerald saw no reason to. In fact, this was probably a great opportunity to gain some information on this unknown being for future use. How could Cinder manipulate this cybernetic knight? Her cautioned curiosity goaded her on, but the other's refusal to speak soon kept her on edge.
"Seriously, why are you following me?" Emerald demanded.
This time the cybernetic knight responded. It was a non-verbal response, but the action conveyed the message to Emerald crystal clear: the cybernetic knight reached behind him and unsheathed the massive sword from his back.
Her eyes widened at the pale hunter.
Emerald Sustrai ran.
The cybernetic knight pursued.
Author's note: Action is coming. ACTION IS COMING.
But on a serious note, all of your critique and comments are appreciated, whether they are positive or burning flames. At this point in writing, I'm testing the balance of writing long and extensive with short yet powerful (or relatively speaking). "Why say 1000 words when you can convey the same message with 100?" and vice versa. Would writing a long and powerful be too exhausting for the average reader?
Dishwasher1910 made new Future-RWBY drawings! Check them out when you get the chance. As usual, Dishwasher's artwork is highly impressive. And as for how the Future 3.0 drawings fit into "Future Restructured" future-verse lore... I am purposely leaving it ambiguous. That way any new drawings don't directly conflict with the established future-verse lore in "Future Restructured". This story is about Future-Jaune trying to change the past, not about the other Future-characters.
But had I known that Future-Ruby would have gotten prosthetic legs, I would have absolutely included that when I was writing Chapter VII.
Till next chapter! Thanks for everything.