-(=RWBY=)-

Chapter 5

-(=RWBY=)-

Weiss.

Thinking of his teammate jolted him, and reminded Jaune that if he died here, he couldn't save her, or anyone else.

Concentrating, Jaune focused his aura on amplifying his durability, even as he manoeuvred himself in mid-air so that he was hurtling to the ground feet first.

Jaune landed on the balls of his feet, before transitioning into a roll that helped dissipate the momentum of his fall.

His aura still took a massive hit, but since he remained uninjured when he broke out of his roll and sprang to his feet, Jaune wasn't complaining.

He had lost about a third of his aura from this, and another third from the explosion earlier, but that couldn't be helped. In truth, Jaune was lucky to have even survived the bombs going off. The realization that Weiss was in danger of being tortured and murdered by the White Fang had agitated him enough that he had activated his aura unconsciously – thus saving him when the dust bombs exploded without warning.

Glancing upwards, Jaune could see the top of the Sky Garden aflame, the fire casting a harsh white light that lit up the night.

The other attendees of reception had not been as lucky as him – without aura, none of them could have survived.

Jaune made a split-second decision, then, to prioritize getting Weiss back over aiding the evacuation and rescue effort in the hotel that would doubtlessly have already started. Councilman Viren and the scions of Vale were beyond help now, and every second he spent on fruitless search and rescue was another second closer to Weiss getting killed; and besides, Vale's emergency services existed for a reason.

Retrieving his scroll, Jaune dropped a call to the Vale Fire Department to report the incident. After that was accomplished, he went for the direct, emergency line that students were warned never to use except in truly important, life-threatening situations.

Current circumstances clearly counted – and so Jaune found himself calling Headmaster Ozpin and waiting for the man to answer.

It took about all of three seconds for the call to connect –

"Mr Arc. Is this urgent? The Goliath herd that skirts the borders of Vale have roamed unnervingly close, and while an actual assault is unlikely, my presence is needed at the walls, as insurance against the worst that could happen."

Jaune hesitated, and then decided to explain matters to the headmaster anyway.

"Headmaster, Roman Torchwick is working with the White Fang, and has just attacked the reception – kidnapping Weiss, and triggering dust bombs that killed everyone except myself. With the White Fang involved, I fear that Weiss isn't going to be held for ransom, so much as... tortured, and murdered."

That phrase was hard to think, and even harder to say – but he forced it out, so that the headmaster understood Jaune's assessment of the situation and of what was at stake.

Ozpin was silent for a long while; but when he spoke again, his voice was as cool and calm as ever –

"That is distressing news – but I have worse for you. Professor Goodwitch and the rest of Vale's Champion-level combatants are outside the city at present, and with myself occupied with border defence, none of us can assist you. Nor can I spare any of the elite huntsmen from the force I am leading – not with the Goliaths within a hundred kilometers of Vale."

Jaune had expected as much, the moment the headmaster had mentioned the titan-class Grimm.

"That's alright, sir. I don't particularly need backup – just a bullhead for transport, and a way to track Weiss."

Ozpin weighed his answer, before replying,

"The bullhead I can grant you. As for locating Miss Schnee – I can authorize Huntsman Command to track your teammate's scroll."

Huntsman Command was the organization under the headmaster that exercised command and control over Vale's huntsmen forces, especially in times of emergency – and with that responsibility came certain powers; including, controversially, the ability to penetrate the cyber-security of commercial scrolls and track their owners' geo-spatial location.

"About that, sir – I don't think it'll work. Torchwick isn't an amateur, and is surely aware that a scroll's location can be tracked. He would already have thrown Weiss's away, and if not, he'll send a man to bring it elsewhere, thus laying a false trail leading away from his true destination. Would it instead be possible for us to track Torchwick's bullhead via radar?"

The headmaster's response was near immediate.

"I take your point about Miss Schnee's scroll. However, for your suggestion – Vale's radar network will not be of much help to us, I'm afraid, for criminals know to fly their bullheads at low altitude –"

"– where the tall buildings and hilly terrain of Vale keep them out of the line of sight of our radar installations."

Jaune completed the sentence, upon realizing mid-way through the headmaster's explanation why his plan was unworkable.

"Quite so."

Jaune's mind cast about furiously for an alternative solution – all the while keenly aware that Weiss and her kidnappers were getting further and further away by the second.

"A semblance, sir? Surely we have a huntsman within Vale whose ability is sensing and tracking people based on their aura?"

The headmaster showed his experience and knowledge, when – after but a few seconds of thought – he said,

"There is indeed an individual with such an ability – he can track huntsmen so long as he has had the chance to examine their aura signature in person."

Jaune felt his hopes rise as the headmaster spoke – only for them to crash towards the end, as he realized that the semblance in question would be useless without Weiss having met its user.

Wait.

Jaune sprinted across the street, and grasped the rapier lying bent and battered in the middle of the pavement in front of the burning hotel. Torchwick had, in an abundance of caution, seemingly chosen to chuck Weiss's weapon right out the bullhead as soon as possible. However, if Jaune was right...

"Sir, would examining a huntsman's weapon be sufficient? There'll be residual traces of a huntsman's aura in their weapon, especially after long use by a single person."

"Yes, I think it might. Do you have Miss Schnee's rapier?"

The headmaster was quick to catch on, and Jaune was ecstatic at his positive reply.

"Yes sir, I do. How do I contact this semblance user?"

"After the bullhead I have dispatched arrives at your location, make your way to The Pub and Club at 10 Sandflower Road in the industrial district. Look for its owner, a Mr Hei Xiong, better known by his alias 'Junior'. The man is a gang leader involved in organized crime, but Beacon has worked with him before, to track down certain rogue huntsmen. Explain the situation to him and tell him I sent you. While you secure his cooperation, I will issue instructions to Huntsman Command to track Miss Schnee's scroll and to examine our radar logs – just in case the kidnappers have not proven as cautious as they should be."

"I'll find this Junior, sir, and then track Weiss down."

"Mr Arc?"

The headmaster's words were deadly serious, as he delivered his warning –

"The White Fang have been utterly ruthless since Sienna Khan came into her kingdom. They will try to murder you, and if you wish to succeed you must be prepared to kill them too. When dealing with the likes of the Fang, mercy is fatal, for both you and the innocents you seek to defend – do you understand?"

Jaune's answer came swift and sure.

"I understand – you know I do."

"Very well. Good hunting, Mr Arc."

The headmaster hung up.

Jaune spent the next ten minutes planning his strategy for the night's coming conflict, until the roar of an approaching aircraft pulled him from his musings, and made him look up.

The headmaster was as good as his word, and a bullhead was descending upon his position.

With a raised hand and some hand signals, Jaune indicated to the pilot to keep his current altitude, and to open his hull door.

Jaune crouched, and then leapt up, closing the gap of five meters in a flash. His fingers gripped the bottom edge of the bullhead's door frame, and with some effort, he leveraged himself up and into the hull proper.

The door closed with a hiss, and Jaune walked over to join the pilot in the cockpit.

"We need to head to the The Pub and Club. It's at –"

"No worries, bro, I know where it is."

The pilot, a man in his early twenties not much older than Jaune, continued chattering as he steered the bullhead around and turned it in the direction of the industrial district.

"Been there before – great drinks, hot girls, wicked music. Too bad it got trashed two months ago when some crazy huntress beat up the owner and all his bouncers. Hang on tight."

The pilot soon fell silent to concentrate on flying his aircraft; and for that, Jaune was grateful – right now, he wasn't in the mood for polite conversation or inane chatter.

The shopping centres and office blocks and hotels of the commercial district passed by below in a blur, until the bullhead crossed the River Aestral and the landscape below changed – into the mass of factories and lorry parking lots and warehouses that covered the industrial district from the river to the sea.

The club wasn't too far from the river, and in short order Jaune found himself hopping down onto Sandflower Road, outside a large warehouse that looked no different from any of its neighbours beyond the large sign atop its entrance proclaiming 'THE PUB AND CLUB' in bold, red letters.

Two large bouncers guarded the door, both of them wearing identical outfits – black suit and hat, with crimson ties and sunglasses.

Ignoring the long line of people waiting to get in – despite their angry cries of protest – Jaune walked up to the bouncers and greeted them.

"Gentlemen. I'm Jaune Arc, a student from Beacon here on semi-official huntsmen business – and I need to talk to Junior."

The men glanced at each, before the one on the left spoke,

"Sure. We can bring you to the boss. Just hand over your sword and any other weapons you have"

Jaune frowned, and that act alone made the two men tense. That seemed an overreaction – but then Jaune recalled what the pilot had mentioned, about a huntress fighting the club bouncers two months ago.

As he stared down the antsy bouncers, Jaune weighed his options. He could just blow past the bouncers, but there was no profit to flouting the club's rules and antagonizing its owner, whose he help he needed. On the other hand, he definitely didn't want to give up his weapon – not with what had happened less than half an hour ago. In compromise, therefore, he offered –

"If you can get Junior, I'll be happy to talk to him here."

The men relaxed, somewhat, and the one on the left said,

"Okay. Wait here."

Jaune stood, arms crossed, as the remaining bouncer went back to checking the identities of the customers waiting in line.

The bouncer who had left to get his boss came back after a short while, alone, and said by way of explanation,

"The boss says you can come in with your weapon – just don't cause any trouble."

Jaune nodded, thankful for the consideration.

"I won't."

Jaune followed the man into the nightclub.

Strobe lights and loud music greeted him, as did the sight of a teeming mass of people swaying and gyrating with wild abandon on the backlit dance floor at the centre of the club.

The bouncer led Jaune around the side, to the long bar behind which was arrayed an impressively large collection of alcohol – from wine and whiskey, to beer and brandy, there seemed to be nothing the bar didn't have available.

Two girls – identical twins, one dressed in white and the other in red – sat by the bar, glaring at him, but he ignored them, in favour of striding up to the large, bearded man in a black vest who was standing and looking impassively out onto the dance floor.

Jaune offered his hand, which the man accepted, and they shook.

"I'm Jaune Arc. You must be Junior."

"No other. You mentioned you're here on huntsmen business?"

"Yes, representing my headmaster. Can we speak in private? It's a sensitive matter that I don't think you want your customers –"

Jaune angled his head towards the dancers on the floor.

"– to overhear."

Junior grunted, and said,

"Follow me."

The man led Jaune up the stairs at the back of the warehouse. The second floor was a quieter place altogether, insulated as it was from the noise of the club below. In layout, it seemed more of a traditional pub, with its darker ambience, wooden furniture and cozy cubicles where conversations could be had with relative privacy.

It was not here that they were going to talk business, however, as Junior continued scaling the next flight of stairs to the third and final storey of the warehouse.

This floor seemed a private area not open to the general public, if the lack of customers around was indicative – which gave a level of silence and seclusion that suited Jaune just fine.

Junior led him into a small lounge, with sofas to sit on and a low table on which drinks could be rested.

They both sat down, and Jaune wasted no time in beginning his explanation.

"A Beacon student has been kidnapped by Roman Torchwick, who's working in conjunction with the White Fang, and we would like your help in tracking the student down."

Jaune finished speaking, but Junior chose not to respond right away, instead taking out a leather case from the breast pocket of his vest, and from there withdrawing a cigar.

Only after lighting the cigar with an ornate silver lighter and giving it a few puffs did the gang leader reply –

"The White Fang's dangerous, and if they're involved I don't want to be."

Jaune suppressed a sigh. The rejection was unwelcome, but no unexpected – this was a negotiation, after all, and you didn't trade something for nothing.

"I wouldn't ask you to do this for free, now would I? The kidnapped student is Weiss Schnee, and if you help us, we will get the richest man in the world to reward you accordingly."

The word Schnee made Junior's eyebrows rise, and though Junior tried to pretend he wasn't interested, he failed miserably.

"How much are we talking about, Arc?"

Jaune had done his due diligence, and had researched the prevailing ransom rates paid out to free hostages from kidnappers. Using those sums, he could estimate what would seem like a reasonable amount to pay kidnappers to secure the release of a high-value hostage – and hence, what would appear to Jacques Schnee to be a reasonable sum to pay the criminal elements whose cooperation was needed to save his daughter from the White Fang.

Knowing that Junior could make the same estimations as well, Jaune couldn't go too far from the prevailing sums – too low, and Junior would think he was being stiffed; too high, and the promise would fail to look credible at all.

And so, Jaune said –

"One hundred million Atlesian lien."

The enormous number visibly staggered Junior, who for a second seemed scarcely to breathe. Then, he recovered, and replied,

"A big promise, but can you deliver?"

Jaune shrugged.

"The headmaster will inform them of the promise, and at that point it will be in Jacques Schnee's self-interest to pony up the money – else no one will want to help a Schnee in similar circumstances ever again."

Without letting Junior have much time to offer another rejoinder, Jaune pushed forward –

"And as for the risk that the White Fang might pose to you and your business... I'm not stupid, Junior. I know why you're worried. It's not just that the Fang might attack you and your establishment – but it's that you can't rely on the Vale Police Department to provide protection. After all, what criminal enterprise wants increased scrutiny from law enforcement? Protection racketeering; drug trafficking; money laundering – and if I tried listing all your crimes we'll be here all night."

Junior continued smoking his cigar silently, neither confirming nor denying the charges – which were, in all fairness, well-substantiated by journalistic investigations, even if prosecutors had not yet built a sufficiently robust case to bring about an indictment.

Without breaking stride, Jaune pressed on –

"I heard that some huntress beat the shit out of you and your boys the month before last – and I'll bet my sword she faced no legal consequences, what with you being too afraid to file a police report.

"You, Junior, can't rely on the police; so here's the deal – if you ever expect trouble from the White Fang, I'll be more than happy to drop by to lend a hand, if you know what I mean."

Junior did know, and was unimpressed nevertheless.

"Big talk from a brat too young to even grow a beard."

Jaune rubbed his smooth cheeks – and, choosing not to get riled up as a callow youth might well have been – he instead grinned ruefully.

"Not complaining – shaving's a hassle, or so I hear. And while I am sure you are the expert on manly hairiness –"

Jaune raised an eyebrow at Junior's thick, black moustache and beard.

"– that is neither here nor there. I am strong – of course I am, otherwise Headmaster Ozpin would never have sent me to fight the Fang and retrieve my friend. And if you don't believe me, that can be remedied. It's up to you – will a demonstration be necessary?"

Jaune let his left hang rest on the pommel of the still-sheathed Crocea Mors.

That made Junior glanced at his sword warily, before grimacing and saying,

"No need for that stuff."

Jaune dipped his head,

"Thanks for being reasonable."

However, Junior only shook his head, and cautioned –

"I haven't agreed to anything yet."

Jaune shrugged.

"Oh, you will. Just let me make a final point. Weiss Schnee and I are being groomed by Ozpin to take the reins of command. And I'm a clever guy –"

"Too clever by half, maybe."

Junior interjected with that snide comment, but Jaune only smiled, and continued as if nothing was said.

"– with a sharp mind, as our short conversation will surely have shown. But above all, I am absolutely fearless. You don't have to take my word for it; just take a look at this –"

Jaune tossed his scroll to Junior, with the necessary page already loaded and on display.

Junior's face was a sight to behold, as a look of utmost incredulity spread across it.

"You are fucking insane, kid. I didn't think Beacon still allowed aura-less combat in its entrance exams."

"Oh, they do – you just need to ask for it."

That was, ultimately, how Jaune had managed to pass the combat portion of the Beacon entrance examinations in the first place. Without aura, Jaune was never going to have fared well in mock combat against the professor testing him – for nothing was going to make up for a lack of superhuman physical ability, and Jaune would have been turned into bloody paste the moment Peter Port's axe connected with his face.

That forced him into requesting combat without aura – a option historically made available to students who sought to bolster their applications and stand out from their peers, by proving they had the courage and resolve to fight despite the risk of death and disability and debilitating pain.

It was, for obvious reasons, an option rarely chosen – so when Jaune declared his request, it had been impressive enough that Professor Port had passed him on the spot. His famous family name helped – for it meant the old huntsman had never seriously doubted his combat ability.

Junior looked torn between admiration and aversion – the latter, presumably, because he couldn't believe anyone could be so mad to do so senseless a thing.

The big man leaned forward to return the scroll, on which Jaune's entrance examination results were still prominent displayed. With a nod, Jaune took back his scroll, and then said,

"At the risk of sounding like an edgy asshole, Junior, I will you this – I am a dangerous man. The question then, is – do you want me as an enemy, or do you want me as a friend?"

Jaune finally stopped talking, and instead waited in calm silence for Junior's answer.

In this negotiation masquerading as mere conversation, the next person to speak would lost.

Junior blinked first. Sighing, he said,

"We don't have friends in this business. But I'll take you as an ally, and help you find the Schnee."

Despite himself, Jaune let out a smile of genuine relief.

Junior wasn't done, however, for his next words were –

"Just make sure you get my money, and if the White Fang comes for me, have your sword ready. Oh yeah, and –"

He stood, and grinned unpleasantly.

"– don't think you're hot shit just because Ozpin likes you. The Branwen twins thought the world was their oyster too, and now look at him, and look at her – one an alcoholic tool, the other a mass murderer."

The Branwens?

One a Champion of Vale; the other the bandit-queen of Mistral and most wanted criminal in the world. The siblings made a fascinating topic of conversation, and Jaune wanted nothing more than to ask Junior what he knew of them. However, with Weiss in mortal danger and the seconds slipping away, they could not afford to be distracted by irrelevant chatter, or to delay matters any further.

Instead, he withdrew Myrtenaster from his belt, and handed it over to Junior.

"Here's Weiss Schnee's weapon. If you could use your semblance, we can start tracking down the location of its owner right away."

Silently, Junior accepted Myrtenaster with both hands. Closing his eyes, he brought the rapier close to his nose, and inhaled deeply – almost as if he were taking in the scent of its owner.

With his eyes still closed, Junior brought his head up and turned it here and there, all the while giving the air a few experimental sniffs.

Then he froze – like a predator that had caught the scent of its prey.

Finally opening his eyes, Junior asked, curtly,

"You have a bullhead?"

"Waiting just outside."

"Then let's go. The Schnee is to the south. My semblance lets me smell aura, and from what I can tell, her scent is coming in from that way, at the edge of the industrial district."

Still holding onto Weiss's rapier, Junior began striding towards the exit. Jaune followed, and with businesslike swiftness they made their way back down to the ground floor.

Junior took a moment to inform the twin girls – who were, apparently, his lieutenants – that he was helping Beacon to track down a student and would be out for a while. Then, without further ado, he and Jaune left the club, and walked out onto the street

Jaune's bullhead was still hovering overhead, awaiting his return. A few quick hand signals made the pilot bring his craft closer to the ground –

– thus allowing Jaune to leap up and board the bullhead.

Junior copied this action, but fumbled his jump, and fell short of the hull door by almost half a meter – requiring Jaune to reach out, grab the older man's arm, and pull him to safety.

Jaune then brought Junior to the cockpit, where he could continue tracking the scent of Weiss's aura and give the necessary directions to the pilot.

The bullhead flew south, over the factories and warehouses that all blended together into a grey mass after a while.

And after a short journey –

"Stop."

Junior issued his command to the pilot, who promptly slowed the bullhead to a hovering rest – right above an industrial park that appeared no different from any of the other ones they had already passed.

"We're here."

Even as he said that, Junior seemed to frown in mild confusion – and Jaune felt dismay bubble up, for he realized that things were not all going to plan.

"Problem?"

The bearded man gave a grunt and an annoyed shake of his head, before replying,

"This is the general area, but I can't tell which building the Schnee is in – which isn't right, because I'm usually able to pinpoint my target's exact location down to the meter."

Jaune found himself frowning as well, even while he asked,

"The factory they're in might have aura-absorbent walls – would that inhibit your semblance?"

Junior scowled, and said,

"Yeah it would."

This was something Jaune had experienced before – most recently, during Professor Fall's very first Introductory Reasoning class, which had been held in that old prison building whose walls had been built to absorb aura, so as to prevent the easy location-detection of specific prisoners inside.

If Torchwick had Weiss locked up in a building with similarly-constructed walls, there was no point sitting around and waiting for Junior to try and get a better read on Weiss's location – that would never happen.

Instead...

Jaune looked out the front windows of the bullhead, leaning over Junior as he did so and earning an irritated grunt from the man in the bargain.

After a brief scan of the industrial park and its factories, Jaune shook his head and gave a long, exhalation of frustration.

"Why are there so many lights on in this place, anyway? Shouldn't the factories be closed at night?"

He had been counting on almost all of them being shut, and their windows being dark – so it would be easy to tell, via the windows that were lit, which factory was incongruously operational and hence likely to be housing Torchwick and his team.

Instead, perhaps a third of the factories were still up and running, which made his plan a non-starter.

Junior, who had thus far still been trying to sniff out Weiss's scent to no success, glanced at Jaune, and said,

"It's 'cause some factory machines take hours to warm up, and you aren't gonna make money unless operate 24/7."

Jaune nodded tersely, to acknowledge Junior's explanation – even as his mind continued pulling itself to bits trying to find a solution to the problem.

It was at that point that a new message appeared on his scroll.

It was from Headmaster Ozpin, and contained only two things – one word, and one link.

The word was –

Hurry.

And for the link –

With mounting dread, Jaune clicked it –

– and almost choked on his own horror, when he saw the page it opened.

It was a livestream, showing a room – a room containing a terrified Weiss bound to a chair, and a masked White Fang member with a chainsaw just standing there.

Jaune wanted to scream, wanted to vomit, wanted to cry – this was the Fang preparing to torture Weiss, and streaming the snuff film live.

He punched the door of the cockpit, denting it.

And Jaune would have done worse, too – had he not used all his strength of will to squash the seething sea of emotions boiling through.

Think. Think. Think.

His mind spun and whirled and sped through a thousand thoughts and a dozen propositions.

What if –

No –

But wait –

Wait.

Yes.

Yes!

YES!

The relief he felt when he stumbled upon the solution was so crushing it almost drove him to his knees.

But there was no time to waste.

His fingers blazed across his scroll, and he looked up the information he needed; simultaneously, he instructed the pilot –

"Prepare our weapon systems. And bring us here."

He all but shoved his scroll in the pilot's face, and pointed out the location

The face Jaune was displaying had to have been terrifying, for the pilot obeyed without question or hesitation.

Bringing the bullhead up and around, he flew them to the edge of the industrial park – right at the spot where the area's electrical substation stood.

"While making sure the cockpit window faces out towards the industrial park in its entirety, open fire on the substation."

The pilot looked ready to protest, but Jaune drew Crocea Mor, and said,

"Upon the authority of Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon, I am commanding you to open fire while holding this specific position."

The invocation of Ozpin's name – and the naked steel Jaune was wielding – together worked their magic, and the pilot complied.

He brought them around, so that from their position in the cockpit both the substation and the whole industrial park were in view.

Then, he engaged the bullhead's weapon systems.

From the belly of the aircraft, a rotary autocannon smoothly extended – and then started firing.

Spinning and spitting 30-mm dust shells at more than half a hundred rounds a second, the autocannon pulverized the substation, and caused it to explode in a scream of fire and hurricane of sparks.

Jaune, of course, paid little attention to any of that, instead staring intently out at the industrial park and the brightly-lit windows of the thirty or so factories still operational at night.

As the substation collapsed upon itself, and as electricity was no longer being fed to the surrounding factories, the whole place fell into darkness.

The room in the White Fang livestream similarly went dark – which confirmed they were in the affected area.

Jaune held his breath, and waited.

One by one, the windows of the various factories began to light up once again, as the backup generators were started, either by the industrial control systems operating automatically, or the workers doing it manually.

And then –

The room in the livestream lit up, at the exact same moment a factory in the north-east did.

"There!"

Jaune pointed out the building in question, and with the pilot quick enough on the uptake to figure out what was going on, the bullhead started flying towards the place where Weiss was being held.

All the planning and persuading and thinking Jaune had been doing since the soiree went up in flames – all that had helped lead to this singular moment; this opportunity, to save Weiss.

But now the time for talk and thought was over.

Now there was only the simple task of slaughter.

Blade in hand, Jaune Arc prepared to make some corpses, out of the monsters masquerading as faunus.

-(=RWBY=)-