The Fall Project
War
The Next Step
In many ways, Haven was identical to Beacon. The knowledge was covered by the same learning material, they had the same dorms, and the teachers were all just as diverse as the Beacon staff. However, the differences were just enough to make Jaune feel as though he was out of place.
He noticed the pity in Haven students' eyes as they saw the missing members of RWBY and CMSN, thinking that they may have been lost. For the rare few who brought up the topic, he assured them that Yang was recovering from her injury and Milo was alive, but taking some time away from the academy to rest.
For a while, things went back to normal. School persisted day-by-day, young Huntsmen and Huntresses doing everything they could to prepare for the future. Still, no matter how hard he and his team worked, Jaune couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough. He felt the drive to act, but didn't exactly know where to start.
The young leader occasionally found himself pacing his room or taking large amounts of time pondering the enemy's next target. It could be one of the other kingdoms, but Mistral was a prime target because of the high number of refugees that currently inhabited it.
If he were some kind of psychopathic megalomaniac bent on tearing apart the fabric of all society, that's what he would do.
With that in mind, the question remained; What could he do about it? Information was needed, but the leaders and decision makers of Mistral wouldn't likely involve him when so much was at risk. Ozpin was accepting of his help, but the Headmaster of Beacon couldn't possibly know everything about Haven's operations.
The best course of action, the only course of action, would be for Jaune to go to the Haven Headmaster himself and offer his assistance. Unfortunately, he was still just a student, so convincing the Professor of his usefulness would be difficult. But what else was he supposed to do?
Coming to that exact conclusion is how he found himself knocking on the older man's door unannounced, uninvited, and completely unprepared. So when the door opened to him and revealed the tall, aged, yet still proud-looking Headmaster looking quizzically down on him, Jaune said the first thing that came to mind.
"Hreckbleh…."
Jaune's face turned bright red as the Professor rose an eyebrow at the young huntsman's fumbling dialogue. "Uhmm… Hello?" the man's deep voice resonated, snapping Jaune from his world of apocalyptic terror.
"Ah, sorry professor," he said, clearing his throat. "I would like to talk to you, if you're not busy at the moment."
"Not at all," he said, waiving Jaune inside. The Headmaster walked slowly to his desk with a slight limp in his right leg, taking a moment to pour his guest a cup of tea before easing himself into his chair.
The old huntsman smiled when he noticed the Jaune's concern for him. "Time hasn't been kind, but I can still pack a wallop," he reassured. "So young man, how can I help you?"
Jaune sat and gingerly sipped at the hot liquid. As the tea trailed down his throat, he felt a sense of warmth and tranquility that eased his mind. The effect was certainly not what he expected and he considered that the tea may be modified or medicated in some way. Perhaps it was because of the bad experience in Vale, but he didn't trust the effects of the tea and set it down.
Taking a moment to breathe and focus, Jaune regarded the elderly Headmaster. "It's about the perpetrators of the attack on Vale," he began. "They didn't make any demands or try to put someone new in power. The only thing they accomplished was destruction. Because of that, I believe that they won't stop there, that other kingdoms are at risk of the same disaster. Mistral is at the most risk from all the refugees, so I offer my knowledge and services as a huntsman to stop them."
Lionheart's smile faded and he looked at the young Huntsman with a solemn expression. "You are smart for your age, if that is truly the conclusion you came to."
Jaune nearly deflected the compliment, a part of his nature in humility that would never disappear, but now was not exactly the time for pure modesty. He needed to sell himself at least a little bit so the Headmaster would let him help. "Professor Ozpin has been training me in leadership this year. If you want his endorsement..."
He was interrupted by the Professor's raised hand. "Don't you worry. Ozpin was sure to tell me of his favorite student."
They both sat in silence for a moment, making Jaune anxious. "Uh… So does that mean you'll let me help?"
"No."
"But I can help! Just give be a few basics; who to trust, who to avoid, defenses, anything! I know I'm young, but I can figure it out!" Jaune exclaimed.
Lionheart sighed. "I appreciate your desire to aid us in this troubled time. I'm sure you expect me to tell you that you are inexperienced and therefore useless, but that isn't the problem. You see, in a war such as this, victory can only be assured if you know your enemy."
"Then tell me, teach me," Jaune pleaded, "Let me help!"
"We Headmasters keep our enemy secrets to put the world at ease, Mr. Arc," he explained. Perhaps, when the time is right, it will be revealed to you... but for now you must focus on your schooling. Focus on the Grimm for the time being and the rest will follow suit when you are ready."
The young leader sighed, "Is there anything I can do?"
"Nothing you haven't already been doing, Mr. Arc. Good luck," the Headmaster concluded, and sent Jaune on his way.
But the young knight knew that something had to be done. He couldn't sit idly by and wait for the Kingdom to fall under attack like before. He owed it to so many people; Ozpin, the Beacon staff, RWBY, Ren and Nora, and most of all, Pyrrha. For them all, it was time to step forward, to be a true Huntsmen. War was coming. But this time…
This time they would be ready.
Ruby aimlessly wandered the halls of Haven academy, mindlessly searching for something to do. Meeting with Haven students was great and all but once they recognized her as someone from Beacon, people tended to either keep their distance or show an amount of pity that bordered on the absurd.
It's not like she's a child anymore! While they didn't necessarily 'win,' they saved a huge number of people in a real disaster. True, honest, grown-up Huntress kind of stuff!
So, while the young reaper didn't particularly want to meet anyone new, she certainly did want to find something to occupy her time. Unfortunately the rest of her team was all busy with their own personal projects; Blake continued her research on the White Fang while Weiss focused on trying to figure out why Schnee Dust prices were so outrageously high, even for her standards.
In times of everlasting boredom like this, Ruby acted on her profound love for weapons, seeking out the nearest armory or gunsmith. Fortunately, Academy students had the ability to craft and modify their own weapons in the school armory, which means Haven has their own workshp. Ruby took the golden opportunity to see all the different weapons and styles that people in Mistral differ from the people in Vale.
As she stepped through the heavy twin doors she took in the sights and smells of the forge, humming a cheerful tune to herself. She caught the pleasantly familiar scent of heated metal, the rhythmic crack of a hammer against metal, and the grind of a sharpening stone. She always did enjoy her time in the forge, working on her weapon with careful precision until it was tuned to perfection.
When she wasn't working on Crescent Rose she often helped other students with their own projects, in a hope that she might find someone that shared her love for weaponry. Today, there were a few people making adjustments, but they all seemed to know what they were doing, so she decided not to intrude on their work, deciding instead to stand aside and admire their crafts.
After a few minutes, she happened across the twins of Team CMSN, both huddled over what looked to be a stripped-down machine gun. It was mostly assembled, missing only the outer protective casing that would protect the vital components from debris or standard wear and tear. There were a few strange metal clips on the bottom, making Ruby think that the weapon might be able to be attached to something else.
Intrigued by their creation, she quickly made her way to the table and clasped her hands behind her back. "What-cha doin'?" she asked in a singing voice.
Both pairs of dark, forest-green eyes rose to greet the young leader, while Mike gently lowered the small frame of the mostly-assembled weapon. "Trying to add a ranged modification so I can hit things without having to be too close to them. It's pretty complicated, so don't worry about helping, we can take care of it."
"Are you sure?" she asked with a grin, tapping a finger to her lips as she inspected the unique weapon. "Ooooh! Is that a spiral-chamber loading mechanism? That can bring your rate of fire up to fifteen-hundred rounds per minute!"
Their eyebrows rose in surprise and they idly blinked for a few moments. "Wait, fifteen-hundred? I thought it could only do one thousand," Gabe questioned.
The young reaper shrugged, a wide smile growing on her face. "It depends on what you can afford, I suppose. The higher quality metals for the firing mechanism can be used to make it shoot much faster, but they cost much more than standard steel. It looks like you're using a silver-nickel alloy for the motor pin, so I can tweak it to maximize your rate of fire."
Mike raised an eyebrow at Ruby, giving her a confused look. "How do you know all that?"
"Well, the Huntsman Qrow Branwen is my uncle. He taught me a lot of neat tricks, but I've always liked designing weapons," she said with a sly grin. "After all, I did make Crescent Rose."
The twins both stared at her for a few seconds, then looked at each other in unison. Both shrugged and nodded at each other, seeming to come to a conclusion without having to speak. Gabe then turned around and grabbed a third chair for the red reaper to sit and help them. The next few hours were spent making small adjustments to the machine gun, all the while with Ruby coaching them in proper maintenance for such a unique firing mechanism.
Looking for her team leader, Blake stepped into the armory. When she located the three students hunched over the table, the black-haired faunus ran over to them. "Are you experimenting with dangerous weaponry again, Ruby? I told you that goes against Academy policy!" Blake argued, eyes furrowing as she noticed the modified parts the young woman was trying to attach to the gun. "Wait, you need to file those pieces down to they don't cut the person using them… Just give it to me."
With her previous objections instantly forgotten, Blake joined the three and began adding her own style to the modifications. Dusk had long since passed before they finally finished, and as a final test before mounting the weapon to Mike's sheath, Ruby lifted the weapon and gently pulled the trigger.
The curved piece of metal offered practically no resistance, making the weapon sound a high-pitched whine as it came up to speed in a fraction of a second. She released the trigger and set it down for one last adjustment. "The trigger feels a little flimsy. We should probably tighten it up a bit so it doesn't get bumped and fire for no reason."
"Yeah, that would be bad," Mike nodded. They quickly made the adjustment, then decided that it was the best time to test-fire the weapon before turning in for the night. They moved to an open field just outside of the Academy grounds and assembled a makeshift target to fire at; a collection of sticks and hay taped together in the shape of a Beowolf, complete with a model Grimm mask.
"C'mon, try it out!" Ruby exclaimed, nearly bouncing with excitement.
Mike nodded and took careful aim, slowly pulling the trigger with anticipation. A torrential whirlwind of metal and destruction erupted from the muzzle of the machine gun, shredding through the target in seconds. The other three covered their ears as the weapon continued to fire, giving each other confused looks as to why he had not released the trigger yet.
Gabriel stepped next to his brother and yelled over the belching weapon. "Hey, stop firing! That's enough!"
Mike looked at him and raised the hand that should be on the trigger, "I can't! The trigger is stuck!"
With only one hand on the weapon, the recoil was far too great to control. The muzzle pitched upward, flinging itself over the young man's shoulder and dropping to the ground.
Blake, Ruby, and Gabe dove to the ground to avoid the hailstorm of bullets, while Mike scrambled for it, pressing down hard on the barrel with a boot and keeping it steady. Eventually the magazine ran dry, the rotating loader rattling loudly until the young Huntsman forced the trigger to release. They all let out a sigh of relief now that the fiasco was over.
"That was a little crazy," Gabe stated.
"Yeah, but at least the target was destroyed," Ruby suggested, prompting the rest of them to look in the direction of the obliterated scarecrow.
Blake came to a sudden realization. "Uh… Guys?" she started, "Is that the kitchen?" They followed her pointed finger, coming to rest on a small building riddled with still-smoking bullet holes. They quickly ran toward it and started hearing the wail of a fire alarm.
After an exhausting day, Glynda Goodwitch was ready for a long night's sleep. She had just enough time for a hot shower to calm her stressed mind and body, then she could fall in bed and rest. After dressing in her nightgown she did exactly that, wearily pulling the thin sheets over her shoulders and setting her glasses on the small bedside desk.
Just as her fingers grazed the small chain of her lamp to darken the room, there was a loud knock at the door. She sighed deeply, rubbing her eyes as she climbed out of bed. "Always something..." she grumbled to herself, quickly pulling the door open.
She squinted at the blurry figures through the doorway, suddenly realizing that she forgot her glasses on the desk. "Yes?"
"Sorry for waking you, Professor..." a young woman's voice squeaked. Glynda immediately recognized it as miss Rose, no doubt here because of some sort of domestic trouble she or her team may have caused.
She shook her head, "I wasn't sleeping just yet. Is there something you need, Miss Rose?"
"Uh, yeah… We need you to fix something."
The Huntress couldn't help but let out a long sigh, "Very well. What did you break?" At that, Ruby seemed to hesitate. Heavens, if it was anything like the cafeteria after Beacon's biggest food-fight in recorded history, then it should still be a simple wave of her riding crop.
"We sort of, possibly, may have broken… the kitchen."
Glynda blinked. "What did you break in the kitchen?" she asked, not realizing exactly what Ruby was saying.
"I think it actually might be just about everything," Ruby explained, making the professor sigh once more as she gathered her things.
Professor Ozpin sat in disappointed silence across from the four young hunters. After making sure that no one had been injured, the old headmaster was sure to make them understand the danger of the incident.
Needless to say, he was quite frustrated with their carelessness. "Your war with the kitchen staff nearly caused the entire Mistral army to come down on top of you! They thought we were under attack!"
Their heads hung low and Ruby was even giving him her strongest pouting face, to little effect of the seasoned Headmaster. "I recommend that you all volunteer in the kitchens to make up for your actions. A month should be long enough. In the meantime, you will each be taking full weapon safety courses in a hope that this incident is not repeated in the future," Ozpin concluded, dismissing the four students.
Once they had left his temporary office, the twins started barking accusations at each other.
"At least it's the kitchen," Blake interrupted. "We could've shot up the bathrooms and cleaned toilents for a month!" They shuddered at the horror of the idea, quickly agreeing that the punishment they received was reasonable, then made their way to the dorms for some much-needed sleep.
"Enough is enough! We have done more than what is necessary to provide for the citizens of Vale. It is time for them to move on and start rebuilding. Mistral cannot feed them all forever!" a stout, gray-haired man declared, stamping his fist in affirmation.
"We aren't ready for such an exodus!" another man added. "For the time being we need your help. Ration the food, increase imports from Atlas, even declare martial law if you have to!"
"Martial law?! The stability of Mistral's lower society is already in question and you would have us plunge them even further into desperation?"
"No, but you can't ignore-"
"For all we know, you let the criminals who destroyed your kingdom into our walls!"
The audience chamber erupted in disagreement, a dozen councilors arguing and accusing each other as the negotiations fell to pieces.
Winter Schnee witnessed the chaos from her pedestal, her expression stern from the frustrations of politics. She scanned the room, praying for something to make them come to an agreement. Instead, her eyes fell on Qrow Branwen, who was standing in the corner with his eyes darting back and forth and a finger on his chin. He was intensely focused, paying close attention to each and every person's argument, following who said what, what they wanted, and what their reasoning was.
She supposed he was here for information; acting as Ozpin's eyes and ears, or he could be here to pester her for his own twisted enjoyment. Though she had to admit that as irritating as his endless teasing was, Qrow could be a pleasant distraction from time to time.
"Enough! Enough!" one man cried, catching the attention of the council chamber. "A consensus must be made. Perhaps a loan from the Bank of Vacuo and a reasonable deal with Schnee Dust Company could be enough for the people of Vale to return home."
Many eyes turned to Winter, who furrowed her brow and shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't answer for the SDC. I am here as an Atlas Military representative."
"Then as an 'Atlas Military Representative', do you have anything to offer?"
She nodded, "A contingent of soldiers can be requisitioned to protect the people of Vale, along with weapons and ammunition, though supplies will be restricted."
"Can't you just bring your airships and dump them back where they came?" the accuser suggested, earning disdainful glares from the others in the room.
Ignoring the man's attitude, Winter answered quickly in hope of moving forward before the situation could worsen. "The airships aided in the evacuation because it was a state of emergency. They must be on hand in case of another emergency. They are unavailable for other purposes for the time being. This is a direct order from General Ironwood and is therefore non-negotiable."
"Perhaps now is a good time to take our leave and reconvene at a later date," one moderator suggested, knowing there would be no agreement anytime soon. Disgruntled, they all agreed and slowly shuffled out of the room.
Qrow waited just beyond the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a sly grin.
"What are you doing here, Qrow?" she asked as they left the council chamber.
"You know me, I'm looking for information!" he exclaimed, giving her a wide grin. "Got anything for me, Snow Angel?"
The Huntress rolled her eyes, turning in the direction of her apartment. "You seem to think we have some kind of unhealthy relationship where anytime you walk into the room, I spill all my military secrets."
A wide grin grew on his face, "You wish you had any kind of relationship with me."
Winter laughed, a playfully mocking chuckle coupled with a rare flirtatious smile. "You give yourself far too much credit, Qrow."
He immediately took up a pompous tone and made an exaggerated bow, "Of course, your highness! How rude of a dirty, rotten scoundrel like myself to be so bold..." She couldn't help but laugh as continued on her way, despite knowing that he was making fun of her family status. "Seriously though, what's the real reason why can't Atlas loan a few airships?"
"What I said in the meeting was true. They are only to be used in emergency situations."
He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, "Really? Because I was thinking that it couldn't possibly be because the entire fleet was nearly destroyed in Vale and is now under extensive repairs. Plus with budget cuts during the Vytal festival, one might even say that it might not fully recover since Atlas doesn't have many resources left."
Winter halted and gave him a look of bewilderment, "Why would you bother asking if you already knew?"
He shrugged, "Gotta remind you what I do for a living every now and then. If I didn't, you'd probably just think all I ever do is drink, sleep, and kill Grimm."
She opened her mouth to protest, but paused. "Yeah, you have a point," she admitted. At a fork in the walkway, she turned left down a quiet corridor rather than right, toward home.
Qrow caught on immediately. Schnee wanted to talk. "How is your niece, Yang? I heard she received a prosthetic arm. Is it working well for her?" Winter asked. She had heard that the young brawler was not recovering well, even after the delivery of a prosthetic arm supplied by General Ironwood. The gift was intended as a token of thanks and an opportunity for her to resume training as a Huntress, though Winter suspected the General of an ulterior motive.
"It's an Atlas piece of junk and she hates it," he stated as a matter-of-fact. "And she'd depressed. I tried snapping her out of it. Her dad tried and all her friends tried too… but it's the most depressed I've ever seen her. To be honest, I don't know what to do about it, other than wait for her to get her head on straight."
"Time heals all wounds..." Winter suggested.
But Qrow couldn't agree to that. It hadn't healed any of his wounds. He scratched his head, desperate for a lighter subject. "So, during the chaos of battle, I heard you managed to stop Milo from cooking Jimmy like a Sunday barbecue," he commented, his lips curling into a sly grin.
Winter had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter at the picture of the morbid joke… Jimmy on a grill. Perhaps it was the pressure of the world's events, the stress of working so long with little rest or recuperation that broke through her icy shell. Or maybe it was just being around Qrow. Either way, it felt liberating to laugh again. "That is one way to put it, yes," she smiled at him, her eyes all lit up like they used to be.
He had to look away… before his eyes searched hers for something he knew wouldn't be there. "Yeah, that kid sure can fight," Qrow nearly faltered. "So, have you tracked down your Phoenix fugitive yet?"
"No," she answered, shaking her head. "I thought I had a lead in the northeast, but it turned out to be nothing. He just completely vanished."
"Yeah, he tends to do that," he said, then frowned as a thought occurred. "Does Atlas have him?"
She shook her head in response, "I am certain. What I'm more concerned about is whether or not he will be returning. Truth be told, after everything he's been through, I'm not sure I would blame him for joining the White Fang."
"Since when were you so open-minded?" he questioned, earning him a sneer from the Schnee. "Are you sure Atlas didn't get a hold of him somehow? For all we know Ironwood could've abducted him again, keeping him drugged to near death."
"No, that can't be true. The General is far too paranoid about him right now. If Milo was detained, he would be acting differently," Winter explained. "I think we should keep looking for him. He could help us, if he's willing."
"Careful with that kind of thinking," he interjected. "It might not sit well with a bunch of people. And by that I mean most of the known world. The kid is his own weapon of mass destruction and everyone wants him on their side."
"You know, you could at least recognize the fact that he is trying to protect Remnant," she defended.
"Nah..." Qrow sighed. "The jury's still out on what he was trying to do. Anyway, I'm gonna grab a few drinks before dozing off. I'd invite you, but you'd probably just think I'm flirting."
She smiled again and found herself thinking of what she had to do for tomorrow. It was one of her R&R days… "How are the experimental hangover remedies coming these days?" she teased.
"Oh, I'll figure it out soon enough," he chuckled. "Then I'll bottle it and become more rich and famous than the Schnees could ever hope to be!"
Winter grinned, "You could live out your days in infamy as the man who cured hangovers."
"That's the dream!" he exclaimed, making them both burst into laughter.
The huntress bit her lip, trying to make a decision… "Qrow?"
"Hm?"
"...Have you ever been to the Drunken Huntsman?"
"Honey, they named it after me. "Let's go."
The low rumble of thunder pulled Yang from her shifting dreams… Dreams of still having two hands to fight with.
She groggily opened her eyes and sighed at her reality, taking in what she could of the dark surroundings of her room. Shadows lurked in every corner, occasionally illuminated by bright flashes of lightening from the storm above. The light rain that pattered against the roof of the building was calming, but the wind tore at the building, letting the frigid air leak into the house with ease.
She shivered and pulled the blankets tighter, wondering why she always felt cold despite multiple layers of insulation. Breathing deeply in an attempt to slow her mind, she caught the scent of a sweet-smelling forest; Something considerably out of place in Mistral, who's jungle had a more bracing smell that seemed to permeate every inch of the Kingdom.
Distracted and perplexed, Yang slowly sat up and squinted into the dark room, searching for the source. Had her father brought something from Patch that still smelled like home? The room flashed brightly as a thunderbolt arced its way across the nearby sky, the house shaking as the thunder rolled.
Yang nearly screamed when she noticed the dark silhouette crouched to the left of her bed. She reeled away from the figure, but paused when a shimmer of gold caught her eye. The sight was unmistakable.
It was Milo.
How long had he been gone? Three weeks? A month? Longer? And after vanishing for so long... now he just shows up out of nowhere? She had half a mind to jump up and punch him in the face! However, the other half of her mind thanked God that he finally came back.
Yang sat up and squinted, barely able to make out what he was doing in the low light. She watched in quiet interest as he slowly wiped a towel across the feathers of his left wing, wiping away all the dirt he could. By no means were they pristine, but by the look of his other wing she could tell he'd been at it for quite a while.
As time passed he worked more and more slowly, his head starting to slump forward as exhaustion threatened to claim him. Just as his weight began to shift and he started to fall, Yang reached out and touched his shoulder. He turned to look at her, revealing the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. In an instant she knew, whatever she wanted to say would have to wait.
Yang's eyes widened when he pulled himself up and slid between her sheets, her heart starting to race as he gently pressed her back to the mattress. "W-what-"
He shook his head and embraced her with strong arms and inviting wings, pulling the young woman close and wrapping her in a warm, velvety cocoon. Wherever he was, it was evident that she was sorely missed. After mere moments, the young man's breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed as he drifted into a deep sleep. She nuzzled deeper into his chest and relished his warmth. She loved it, but couldn't help thinking that this was out of place for Milo. He had never, ever given her much more than a half-second hug, yet here he was sleeping in her bed. It was so out of place that it couldn't be real.
Then this must be some kind of dream…
At least it's a good one this time, she thought.
Yang closed her eyes and let Milo's steady breathing and heartbeat lull her back into blissful sleep. She felt a sense of fulfillment, that from here on everything would be okay.
Love does funny things like that.
"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed."
-2 Corinthians 4:8-9