-(=RWBY=)-
Chapter 20
-(=RWBY=)-
Jaune put some distance between himself and the burning building that was VBI headquarters, before making his way home.
After a short train journey, and a brisk walk through his rough neighbourhood, Jaune arrived back in his shabby apartment, where he could finally discard his disguise. The hair dye he had to wash out with a bath, but the rest of his get-up he could get rid of without much hassle. He was particularly glad to be able to peel off the eye tapes and the fake beard, the former of which was uncomfortable and the latter of which desperately irritated his skin.
The rest of the morning was then spent reviewing the information stolen from the Vale Bureau of Investigation – so as to identify the human supremacist most likely to assent to an assassination attempt.
It was painstaking work, but in the end, Jaune settled on the person he thought most likely to say 'yes' to his entreaties.
Jaune would have to pay a visit to her soon; but first, he had some other meetings to attend to.
He was already running late by the time he grabbed Crocea Mors and left his apartment, to catch the train to the north-eastern part of the industrial district, not far from where Junior's club was located.
His destination was a commercial huntsman gym, and as he neared it –
He saw them before they saw him, on account of him dressing plainly, and them being in their usual colourful huntsman outfits.
From the blood-red cloak to the hair golden as his own, and from the forest green shirt to the loud pink skirt, there was absolutely no mistaking them.
Team RVLY stood outside the gym, chatting as they waited.
Ren was the first to spot him; he had always been the most observant amongst their group of friends.
Jaune could see the pink-haired boy speak quietly, apprising his teammates of Jaune's arrival; and as one, they all turned towards him.
The next moment, he was surrounded, Ruby and Nora all but pouncing on him and burying him in a cacophony of questions.
"Jaune!"
"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Mister!"
And on and on it went.
Yang was not quite as worked up as her sister and as Nora, but her eyes were bright with interest as she greeted him.
"Heya. Long time no see, huh?"
Ren himself was far more reserved, as he was wont to be.
"Jaune. It is good to see you again."
Jaune hadn't seen Team RVLY since Pyrrha's funeral, and there he had slipped off before they could speak much – but here, and now, there would be no avoiding some hard questions.
"Hey, everyone. Thanks for meeting at such short notice – and during winter break, too."
The two week break between the winter and spring semesters was coming to an end, but was still not quite over yet. From what Jaune had picked up from Ruby – after he had contacted her via scroll, asking for her help – her whole team had been staying over at her place on Patch. Upon receiving Jaune's request, they had to fly back to Beacon, to access the school's weapons forge and perform the requisite task – before flying into Vale proper, and meeting up with him.
It was enormously obliging of Ruby and her team to do all that, just for him – especially after his shabby treatment of them, in ignoring all their calls and messages asking after him.
Jaune felt more than a twinge of guilt, for ghosting them, and he resolved to give them the answers they deserved – as much as possible, and as far as his mission's secrecy permitted.
"It's no big deal, Jaune! How have you been?"
Ruby seemed energetic as ever; but it was clear that her cheer was forced, while her question was asked with not inconsiderable anxiety.
On his own part, Jaune found himself unsure of how to answer the question. He thought back on the last month or so, though it felt like so much more time had passed.
Many things had happened, from midnight raids to endless political intrigue, but certain things amongst others stuck out in his mind – the dark day that was Pyrrha's funeral, and the wistful happiness he had experienced, when he got to catch up with Weiss or even to hang out Blake.
In the end, he told Ruby,
"Well, there are good days and bad. Friends make the difference, I suppose. And I'm –"
He hesitated, before following through.
"– I'm sorry for ignoring all your calls and messages this past month. I just needed some time to think things through, and sort things out."
Jaune left things deliberately vague – he couldn't tell them the truth, though neither did he wish to lie to their face.
Ruby, in any case, accepted his answer; and with painful earnestness, she said,
"I understand, Jaune. We're here for you, if you need to talk."
A chorus of agreement sounded from the rest of Team RVLY, and for all that life had hardened his heart, the sincere expression of support from his friends moved him.
Dipping his head, Jaune said,
"Thank you. This means a lot to me."
It really did. Everything – from the death of his partner to the weight of the world on his shoulders – left him in a state of permanent stress, but knowing he wasn't alone in this went some way in making the burden easier to bear.
"Jaune..."
Ren spoke, quietly but unwaveringly.
"... I apologize for being blunt, but may we ask what occurred in Rothenburg?"
Ruby winced, while the rest of her team seemed tense – as if Jaune was going to blow up just from the question being asked.
He did no such thing, of course, instead nodding, and saying,
"No worries, I don't mind sharing what happened."
Weiss had always been standoffish, and Blake even more so; but Pyrrha had – like him – been decently close to Team RVLY, and they certainly deserved to know how she died, and why.
"As you know, Team JWBN was in Rothenburg for our end of semester mission, and things were going well at first – we did our job clearing out Grimm in the surrounding areas, while also having the chance to sightsee and relax at the inn we were staying in.
"Things went wrong when the Grimm attacked, and even though my team held off the waves of Grimm assaulting the front gates, a Necrovalock's puppets began slaughtering villagers behind our backs. I had to go hunt down the monster..."
Jaune closed his right hand into a fist.
"... except it was all a trap. This Grimm cultist Hazel Rainart, who had engineered the attack in the first place, took advantage of my absence to kill Pyrrha and near-fatally wound Blake."
There were grimaces of distress all around, when he mentioned Pyrrha's death; Ruby in particular was especially affected, if the slumping of her shoulders and the way she looked down upon the ground was any indication.
"Rainart... his strength was like nothing human, and I almost died half a dozen times while fighting him – but in the end, I ran my sword through his heart, and that was that."
And now for the final part of his story, and the one his friends were almost certainly most desperate to understand –
"As for why Ozpin blames me... I'm a convenient scapegoat, that's all; otherwise people will start holding him responsible for letting Grimm cultists run amok and almost engineer a Collapse – one that would have killed thousands of people and dragged the region into chaos."
As he finished giving his account of things, Team RVLY seemed to struggle for the right words to say.
In the end, it was Ren who managed to give their outrage and sympathy some shape, when he said,
"We are sorry for your loss, Jaune. And we are, all of us, furious at how you are being treated –"
"It's not fair!"
Ruby burst out in indignation, her shout so loud it drew glances from right across the street.
"How could Headmaster Ozpin –"
"Ruby."
Jaune interrupted her, before her anger built up even further.
"I'm grateful that you're angry on my behalf, but it is what it is. There's that old saying, right? You should have the courage to change the things you can; the serenity to accept the things you can't; and the wisdom to tell the difference."
Yang had put a hand on her sister's shoulders to try and calm her, while Ren looked thoughtful.
"Those are wise words to live by, certainly."
Nora, meanwhile, was looking less impressed.
"Lame! All problems can be solved by smashing them with a hammer."
"Nora..."
Ren shook his head in exasperation, but Jaune only laughed – as did Yang, and even Ruby.
Nora was never as obtuse as she let herself seem, and Jaune was certain that the orange-haired girl was just trying to lighten the mood – and for that he was grateful.
Preferring to guide the conversation away from the inevitable sombreness that was the Rothenburg, he said,
"But enough about me. How are all of you?"
It was Yang who answered for the team, when she said,
"Not bad. Ren and Nora spent the break with Dad, Ruby and me on Patch. Zwei loves the extra company, that's for sure."
"Zwei?"
Nora jumped in at this point.
"The cutest dog ever! We should totally get one ourselves, right, Rennie? Oooh, or how about a sloth instead?"
"I don't think Beacon allows pets, Nora..."
Jaune and the sisters watched the interplay between the two childhood friends with some amusement, but soon enough Jaune had to remind himself that he was on a tight timetable. No matter how much he enjoyed relieving his more innocent schooldays and hanging out with friends, he could not afford to while away the afternoon in such a fashion.
With reluctance, he brought the conversation to business.
"Anyway, as you will all know by now, Blake is a faunus –"
That fact getting out was inevitable, given the media scrutiny of his team after Rothenburg.
"– and she's quite committed to the cause of faunus rights. She has decided to take a leave of absence from Beacon for now, to pursue a political career instead, and to fight for faunus rights that way."
Ruby, ever the optimist, chimed in.
"That's great! Dad always says that being a huntsman isn't the only way of helping people."
Yang was less sanguine.
"Uncle Qrow always said the politicians are all liars, though..."
Uncle Qrow.
Jaune had to pause for a few seconds to process what Yang had said; and once he did so, he could not help but ask –
"Yang. Are you saying your uncle is Qrow Branwen, one of the Champions of Vale?"
Yang shrugged.
"Yeah. He's cool guy – helped dad raise us, even if he was drunk half the time."
Jaune could personally attest to Branwen's unhealthy relationship with drink, but the man's alcoholism was not what he was concerned with at present.
Qrow Branwen had exactly one sibling – one sister, who happened also to be the most infamous woman in the world.
Jaune could not believe how he had missed it, but it all seemed so obvious now.
His eyes traced Yang Xiaolong's face – from the shape of her eyes, to the lines of her jaw, to the wild untameable mess that was her hair.
She was the spitting image of Raven Branwen – swap out the lilac for the crimson, and the gold for the black, and the woman before him would have looked exactly like the bandit-queen.
"Your mother..."
As those words escaped his mouth, Yang smiled – dangerously – and that, if anything, only made the resemblance stronger.
"You have a problem with that, buster?"
Jaune shook his head.
Fascinating though the topic was, he had clearly hit a nerve; and – as he reminded himself once more – he was short for time here.
To Yang, he said,
"For better or for worse, we're not our parents."
Yang gave a sharp nod.
"You're damn well right we're not."
With that olive branch extended – and accepted – Jaune forced himself to not get distracted, and instead he continued trying to explain the situation with Blake.
"Right, right... as I was saying. Blake is currently running a political campaign to try and get elected to the Valean Assembly. Election day itself is tomorrow, and Blake's holding one last camapign rally tonight. There's just one problem – we have it on good authority that there might be trouble. Could be human supremacists looking to gun down Ghira Belladonna's daughter; or could be the White Fang trying to get rid of fellow faunus who are too peaceful for their taste. It doesn't matter; the point is that Blake needs protecting, and –"
"You can count on us, Jaune!"
"Yeah! We'll break their legs!"
"If there's any fighting, you can count us in."
"We'll be glad to help."
The chorus of support from Team RVLY was heartening, but Jaune had to caution them –
"I'm really grateful, and I'm sure Blake is too – but these terrorists are dangerous. We're talking professional-level huntsman, or people even stronger; people like Adam Taurus. If there's need for direct combat, the professional huntsman guarding the event will step in – or I myself will intervene. You guys will be nowhere near any fighting, that's for sure."
Yang and Nora looked ready to argue, but Jaune cut their objection off at the legs, when he said,
"After Rothenburg, I'm not about to take any chances with my friends' lives; I'm sure you all understand, and sympathize."
That well and truly shut Yang and Nora up, and Jaune didn't even feel bad at guilt-tripping them – anything that helped keep them safe was good by his books.
He had been leery of involving them at all, but he hadn't much choice in the matter – he needed help, and there was no one else he could call upon.
"As I was explaining to Ruby over text yesterday, all I need you guys to do is be on a nearby roof, ready to provide sniper cover. Or, more precisely, I need Ruby providing sniper cover, while Ren shields with his semblance, and Yang and Nora stand guard."
The plan was very straightforward; and yet it elicited a searching frown from Ruby all the same.
"I don't mind providing sniper cover, Jaune... but tell me again, why isn't Crescent Rose good enough? Are you sure that we need this?"
Crescent Rose in its storage mode was holstered at Ruby's belt; above it, slung across her back, was a steel sword, along with a strange weapon that defied description. It was that last weapon that Ruby retrieved, and which she held out in emphasis, even as her silver-eyes pinned Jaune's azure ones.
Jaune met her gaze, and said, levelly,
"Because I don't want there to be any chances – especially if things degenerate into a hostage situation. Come on, let's go into the gym, and you can show me how your new baby works."
Jaune led Team RVLY into the commercial huntsman gym, and after paying the small entrance fee required of non-members, the five of them headed up to the second floor, where the shooting range was.
It was a wide, open area, with the back of the range containing cardboard targets in the shape of Beowolves, all arrayed in front of a earthen embankment that served to stop bullets and arrows damaging the back wall.
No one else was using the range, so they had their pick of shooting booths. Ruby went with the one right in the middle, which meant that was where Team RVLY and himself ended up congregating.
Once at the booth, Ruby unslung the sword she had been carrying across her back, and handed it back to Jaune. It was his notched, plain-steel training sword, which he had mailed to Beacon for her use yesterday.
In return, Jaune withdrew Crocea Mors from his bag, and handed it to Ruby.
She received the blade with great trepidation, and handled it with almost excessive caution. This was only to be expected; the blade was Anra steel, and aura was nought before its edge.
Carefully, Ruby slid Crocea Mors into her strange new weapon – the one that Jaune had asked her to specifically design, for the sake of carrying out the very particular task he had in mind.
The weapon was like a missle launcher, except instead of being cylindrical, it was a rectangular cuboid, with its head and bottom being two squares, and with its sides being four long rectangles. The head was open, and the weapon was hollow – which, together with the slits that ran down its sides, allowed Ruby to slide Crocea Mors into it, hilt first.
The weapon glowed with violet light as Ruby powered it up. Simultaneously, Ruby began launching into an explanation of how her proud new invention worked.
"Gravity dust repulsors here –"
Ruby tapped the sword launcher's top rectangular side,
"– and here –"
She tapped the corresponding bottom side.
"– work to keep the sword floating in the middle."
And indeed, Jaune could see that Crocea Mors was levitating within the hollow confines of the launcher.
"And at the back –"
Ruby patted the butt of the weapon.
"– is the firing mechanism, a gravity dust propulsor that can shoot the weapon out at a hundred meters a second."
Jaune was sufficiently impressed – but all the same, he needed to see it work before he could trust anyone's life to its proper functioning.
"Show me."
Ruby nodded, eager despite herself.
Hefting the sword launcher, she took aim at the cardboard Grimm target at the end of the range –
– and fired.
Fwoom!
In the blink of an eye, Crocea Mors had crossed the span of the firing range, cutting through the cardboard Beowolf and sinking up to its hilt in the earthen embarkment.
"Again."
With a flourish of red petals and the quick use of her semblance, Ruby retrieved Crocea Mors, and then returned to repeat the demonstration.
Once more, Crocea Mors hit home.
"Again."
Ten times in all, Jaune made Ruby Rose fire his ancestral blade from the hypermodern sword-launching railgun she had designed; and ten times in all, the blade hit home, to lacerate the cardboard Beowolves that stood defiant at the end of the range.
In the end, Jaune could only say –
"I think that's enough. Brilliant work, Ruby."
The leader of team RVLY flushed, as she waved him off.
"C'mon, there's no need for flattery."
"It's not flattery."
This was why Jaune had requested Ruby's help – why he had contacted her out of the blue yesterday, after a whole month of keeping his distance from his friends, and of trying to fool Watts into thinking he was irredeemably bitter at the world and everyone in it.
It was because the rewards were worth the risk; because beyond her prodigious skill with scythe and sniper rifle, Ruby was a genius at weapons engineering. To have designed and built a combat-ready version of such a novel weapon, and in under less than a day to boot – it was truly a remarkable feat, even if she had access to Beacon's world-class weapons forge.
This weapon was possibly going to be the difference between life and death tonight, and hence Jaune was unstinting in his praise.
"No, really, Ruby – this is truly brilliant. I'm no expert at mecha-shift weapons, but even I can tell this is top-tier work."
Ruby was blushing so hard her eyes were red to their roots, and Jaune decided that that was enough praise for the day – any more, and she seemed liable to explode.
As Ruby fended off a teasing headlock from her sister, who was grinning ear-to-ear at her sister's embarrassment, Jaune turned to Ren, for a more sombre matter.
"Ren, for tonight, you need to be ready to use your semblance – especially when Ruby is preparing to take the decisive shot. You understand why, don't you?"
Ren didn't quite grimace, but the slight twist of his face spoke volumes of his feelings; nor did his words leave any doubt, when he replied,
"I do. Not that I am pleased, but I see the necessity of it."
Jaune nodded. They were on the same page, then. Distaste was well and good, so long as it didn't get in the way of decisive action.
"I'm counting on you, then."
Jaune then checked the time; he had to be getting a move on, soon, if he wanted to speak with Corsac Albain and Blake before they met their huntsman security team for that evening.
He slid his training sword back into his bag. The blade was of the same weight and design as Crocea Mors itself, allowing Ruby to use it in place of his ancestral blade when building and testing the sword-launching railgun. Jaune could, of course, have sent her Crocea Mors itself, but he hadn't dared allow such a dangerous weapon to be ferried via post – the chances of it getting lost was too high and too live a possibility, for him to risk it. Even personally handing Crocea Mors over to Ruby – whom he trusted, unreservedly – left him apprehensive.
Jaune squashed the feeling, in favour of saying to Team RVLY,
"Well, it's been great catching up with all of you, but I have to run. I'll see you all again tonight, before Blake's campaign rally; the details of it I've sent to Ruby."
His four friends bade him goodbye – with an enthusiastic shaking of hands, in the case of Nora – and then he took off, to head back to the train station.
A short train ride to the south brought him to his next destination for that afternoon – the Belladonna campaign headquarters.
Located within the Vale 14th assembly district which Blake was hoping to win, the campaign headquarters was an old, run-down office building that the FJP had managed to rent on the cheap.
As he entered the place, Jaune could feel the despondency – from the gloomy faces and glum conversations, it was clear that their candidate's poor polling and the consequent prospect of imminent defeat had demoralized many of the campaign staffers.
Such doom and gloom was not unreasonable – but was also going to turn out misplaced, once Jaune was done with his machinations.
Pushing his way into Blake's personal office, Jaune greeted his old teammate as well as Corsac Albain.
"Blake. Corsac."
From behind her desk, Blake nodded back at him.
"Jaune."
Corsac, meanwhile, stood from his slumped position on a chair, and shook his hand.
"My friend, it is good to see you again."
Pleasantries over with, it was time to get to business, and Jaune asked,
"I assume we will be going ahead with the final campaign rally tonight."
Blake's eyes creased into a faint frown, even as Corsac rubbed his temples.
It didn't escape Jaune's attention, how his former teammate glanced over at Corsac, before she replied with,
"I've been reparing my speech –"
She gestured at a document on her desk, which she seemed to have been reading before Jaune arrived.
"– but I'm not sure if it's wise to go ahead with the rally, given the possibility of terrorists attacking."
The VBI's intelligence gathering network had picked up ominous talk within extremists circles – both human supremacist and White Fang – about assassinating Blake. And while there was no evidence that an attack was actively being planned, the possibility alone was alarming, and the campaign been warned to take appropriate security measures – and to even consider cancelling their final rally.
In response to his former teammate's concern, Jaune said, firmly,
"We should proceed. Rallies undeniably help increase candidates' favourability ratings, and whatever helps increase your chances of getting into office and doing good is surely the right thing to do – especially since we're ten points down in the polls, and need every boost we can get."
His words were not well received. Blake's amber eyes further narrowed, as she said, sharply,
"Even if we risk lives in the process?"
Jaune waved her off.
"There's little risk. We'll have lots of security – including the best of the best. Or have you not heard? Atlas's elite Ace Operatives will be deployed to protect us."
"The Ace-Ops..."
Blake looked wary, and doubt coloured her voice, when she asked,
"Are James Ironwood's best really deploying halfway across the world, just to protect us?"
Bluntly, Jaune replied,
"Yes. They're already in Vale, hunting Adam Taurus. Ever since that attack on the airbase, Vale and Atlas have been after his head, and with the possibility that the White Fang might want to attack our campaign..."
Blake grimaced at the mention of her former lover and partner, while Corsac shook his head, and murmured,
"Taurus..."
The man's disapproval of the infamous terrorist leader was plain, and so Jaune seized the opportunity to make his next point.
"Regardless, the rally has already been announced, and if we cancel now – with all the rumours of a possible attack swirling about – it will be obvious that we're backing down out of fear. That will only demonstrate to these extremists that violence works. They will be encouraged to use it even more, to shut down political views they oppose – and whatever else, we cannot allow that to happen."
Corsac had been looking down at the floor, but now, he raised his head. His voice quiet but resolute, he said,
"No, we cannot."
Blake, despite her clear misgivings, also said.
"Right. We can't be frightened by Adam and people like him..."
She trailed off, deep in thought.
Jaune took all this to signal that the were agreed on the proper course of action, and he said,
"That settles it then. The rally proceeds. Let's continue our preparations."
Jaune glanced down at the desk, and gave the copy of Blake's speech a brief scan. It appeared as if she was continuing to lean hard into the issue of discrimination and civil rights – as she had been doing, all throughout the campaign. Indeed, Blake seemed to be weaving in a critique of Vale's whole self-conception as a nation founded on liberty and the rejection of tyranny – all by pressing home the point that the country had never not oppressed the faunus and denied them political equality.
Jaune himself had his doubts over such a rhetorical approach. Blake wasn't wrong on the merits, but as the FJP's own pollsters and data scientists were always warning, talking about racism was counterproductive. It only demoralized faunus voters, even as it turned off human voters, who didn't like to be reminded of their own prejudices. In contrast, talking up bread-and-butter economic issues was far more effective.
It was all too late to change tack, Jaune supposed, and it was hard to fault a person for standing up for what was right. Putting down the speech, he said,
"Well, you continue preparing for your rally speech. I'll handle the security side of things. Corsac, have the security cards arrived?"
"Oh yes. Let me show them to you."
Leaving Blake to work on her speech, Jaune followed Corsac out of the office, as the fox faunus led him to the room next door. It was another office – seemingly Corsac's own – and from the top drawer of his desk Corsac retrieved a small box.
Opening it revealed a number of white-coloured security cards; ordered specially, these were meant to mark out the huntsman and security personnel protecting the campaign rally.
Anyone else carrying weapons would not be allowed into the rally; further, given the danger that unkonwn semblances could pose, no one with unlocked aura was going to be allowed near the stage from which Blake would be giving her speech – unless they were part of rally security itself, as indicated by possession of these cards.
There were thirty of these cards in the box; Corsac took out fifteen, and transferred them to a plastic bag, which he then handed to Jaune.
"I trust you will distribute these to our friends in the security services, and to the other huntsman team whose help you have secured."
"Of course. I'll also call the rally organizers, and update them on the security situation. May I use your office for that?"
"You are more than welcome to, Jaune. Now if you will excuse me, I must be getting back to my work. Even a losing campaign needs to be run well, after all."
With a wry smile and that self-deprecating remark made in parting, Corsac left Jaune alone in the office.
Pulling out his scroll, Jaune made the call to his contact at the Schnee political action committee, which Jacques Schnee had set up to support the Belladonna campaign.
Campaign finance regulations restricted the amount of funding that individuals and organizations could given to individual campaigns; however, there were no limits to the money that could be channelled to independent expenditure political action committees like the one Jacques had set up. These committees could spend as much as they wanted on supporting their preferred candidates, so long as no coordination occurred between campaign and committee – there could be no direct discussion to plan the production of a campaign advertisement, for example.
All this gave the rich outsized influence on politics, and it was no doubt unfair. Blake herself had found the whole arrangement distasteful, but also had no choice but to consent to it – for without Schnee money, they had no hope for electoral victory.
The rally tonight was itself organized by the Schnee political action committee, not the Belladonna campaign – Blake was merely an invited speaker. That was pushing the limits of the law, but Jaune supposed that when you had the best lawyers money could by, the law was not quite so binding a constraint.
Jaune's call connected, and the impatient, caustic voice of the Schnee political action committee's director greeted his ears.
"Arc. Is Albain chickening out of the rally tonight, or not?"
"The rally's happening –"
"Good. Can't let ourselves be cowed by terrorist scum."
Jaune's mouth twisted; despite himself, he was annoyed by the bravado – it was easy for the man to make such bold statements, when it wasn't his own life on the line. Sharply, Jaune replied,
"Yet we have to take the threat seriously. On our end, we've sourced three private huntsman teams to protect the rally; and this on top of the five-member Ace-Ops team the government is supplying. All of them – as well as any other aura-capable individuals like myself involved in the campaign – will be issued these white security cards. I'll send a picture of what these look like over to you; ensure your security checkers are familiar with them. Anyone else who doesn't have them must be diverted to the separate viewing areas for huntsmen."
Despite the man's bravado, he was no fool; he understood the seriousness of the threat, and promised to ensure that the security measures would be implemented without fail.
The call ended soon after, and Jaune turned his mind to his next meeting – which, if he were lucky, would be as brief and to the point as the ones he had just been having.
Jaune turned to leave the office, before remembering an vital task he had almost forgotten to carry out.
Heading over to Corsac's desk, Jaune opened the top drawer. He did so while wrapping his hand with the plastic bag that his share of the security cards came in; this allowed him to pull at the drawer's handle without risking leaving any thumbprints behind. That done, he retrieved an additional security card from the box, and slipped it into his pocket.
A gift, for our unwanted guest later.
Jaune closed the drawer, and then left the room with his bag of the original fifteen cards Corsac had given him for distribution.
As he did, the loud roar of an approaching bullhead started reverberating through the Belladonna campaign headquarters.
It was perfect timing, and Jaune picked up his pace, as he made his way out of the building.
When he walked out the front doors, it was just in time to see five individuals leap from the bullhead, to land gracefully on the ground.
There was a broad-shouldered man in a sleeveless vest; a tall thin man with pale skin and strange tattoos; a thickset woman with dusky skin; a much shorter, slighter woman who had mostly dark hair but also specially-styled blond front locks in the shape of a rabbit's ears; and finally, a dog faunus with a bushy tail and green hair falling artlessly to his shoulders.
It was the Ace-Ops, and Jaune had made sure to look up their weapons and semblances the moment he had learnt they were assigned to protect the rally.
"Arc."
Their leader Clover Ebi strode up towards Jaune, his tone curt. That, and the hard faces all around, made it eminently clear Jaune had no friends here.
It was hardly a surprise. Loyalty to one's team was the cardinal virtue amongst huntsman, and to them, abandoning one's team to pursue glory – as Jaune was reputed to have done – made him worse than scum.
He hence dispensed utterly with the pleasantries. His voice impassive, he intoned,
"Here are your identifying security cards."
Jaune tossed each of the Ace Operatives a white card from his bag. Then, directing his words to their team leader Ebi, Jaune said,
"The other three huntsman teams will also be issued these. As would have been communicated to you previously, one of those huntsman teams will be providing overwatch from a nearby rooftop, while the other two will be with your team down at the rally itself. All three on-site teams will be under your command, but the overwatch team will answer directly to Corsac Albain."
The latter was a lie; Team RVLY was going to be acting under Jaune's instructions – but the Ace-Ops did not need to know that. The last thing Jaune needed now was for Atlas's elite to kick up a fuss about a non-huntsman – let alone a disgraced former student – arrogating command over a huntsman team.
Ebi considered Jaune; the man's teal eyes betrayed no emotion, as the Ace-Ops leader went on to say,
"The arrangement is noted. But you have to understand, Arc – don't get in our way. You aren't a huntsman anymore, and if you turn up tonight with your sword – that's illegal, and we will arrest you."
It was a blunt reminder of his status as a civilian, and of his no longer being entitled to bear weapons.
As for why Ebi felt the need to drive the point home – Jaune suspected that the Ace-Ops weren't so much concerned at the prospect of a terrorist attack, which they could doubtlessly handle with ease, so much as their chances of capturing any potential attackers alive. To track Taurus down, the Ace-Ops needed information from White Fang prisoners – and that was something unlikely to happen if any attack was met by an Arc wielding Anra steel, with no compunctions over cutting people through their auras.
If Ebi knew of the contingency Jaune had prepared for any terrorist attacks, the man would doubtlessly blow his gasket.
Regardless, Jaune only said, blandly,
"I'm happy to leave my sword at home. Now, if that's all, I have other matters to attend to."
Without waiting for a response, Jaune started walking away.
The Ace-Ops did not stop him, though he could sense their contemptuous stares burning into his back as he strode off.
Their scorn was nothing to him, and already Jaune's mind was turning to the third and final meeting he was having that afternoon.
Catching the train once more, Jaune headed back to his apartment in the industrial district. There, he put on a disguise meaningfully different from what had used that morning – just in case the police were on a manhunt for the suspicious individual who had infiltrated VBI headquarters that morning. His hair he dyed red; his eyes he transformed with green-coloured contact lenses, thicker eye tapes as well as chic looking glasses; and his chin he covered with fake stubble.
After his preparations were complete, he headed for the south-western part of the residential districts, where his target lived, alone.
The train ride there was passed in solemn concentration, as Jaune ran through, in his mind, the arguments he needed to make, and the words he needed to say – to move this woman towards thinking the unthinkable and doing the unspeakable.
There was no certainty that this would work; but the odds were good, and Jaune was confident of success.
Much of that confidence stemmed from having personally met the woman in question – and from judging her to be a conspiratorial-minded bigot who nonetheless cared deeply for her teammates.
His target lived in an upscale condominium complex – one overflowing with greenery, and which overlooked the river from a distance. It was a beautiful place, but there was hardly any time to enjoy the sights, given the quick pace Jaune set as he made his way through the grounds. He headed towards a building at its centre, where he then rode the elevator up, to the floor on which his target lived.
Her apartment was tucked away at one corner of the floor. Navigating his way there through unfamiliar corridors, Jaune then rang the apartment's bell.
He waited patiently, even as the seconds ticked by. She was at home, he could tell; her aura signature blazed from within the apartment, after all.
That signature approached him, now, and –
The door opened, to reveal a familiar face.
An ugly scar ran across Ellen Nevrand's left cheek, from near the corner of her mouth to right next to her ear. Incurred in her duel against Jaune himself, from that night at the airbase, the injury gave the twisted impression that she was smiling, when the woman was doing anything but.
Injury aside, however, Nevrand was striking – what with her violet irises set in almond-shaped eyes, her dark blue hair cut dashingly short, and her sharp, aristocratic features engendering a certain indescribable elegance. Her clothes were undeniably stylish as well, from the duellist gloves, to the high-cut jacket, to the knee-high boots.
Indeed, she would have been the very image of the ideal huntress, and would have seemed the very pinnacle of professionalism, had it not been for the strong smell of alcohol wafting from her mouth.
"What do you want?"
Despite her inebriation, Ellen Nevrand's tone was cutting, and her gaze sharp. And from the way one gloved hand fingered the rapier at her waist, Jaune could tell that he was fast outstaying his welcome, even before a single word had been spoken on his part.
Eager to avoid getting the door slammed in his face, Jaune did the one thing guaranteed to hold Nevrand's attention.
His left hand came up, index and little fingers extended in parallel, even as his right middle finger unfurled to overlay them at a right angle – thereby forming a rude and brazen H.
Any ordinary person would have been taken aback; and yet Ellen Nevrand did not so much as blink, let alone look askance, as the infamous salute of human supremacy was flashed in front of her face.
If anything, she looked intrigued, and that led Jaune to say,
"My name is John. And I just want you to know, Ellen Nevrand, that you are not alone. You are not the only one whose has been brutally attacked by the White Fang. You are not the only one who has grown fed up with the favourism that society lavishes upon the faunus, even as we humans suffer reverse racism. And you are not the only one whose forebears fought bravely and died nobly for the cause of humanity in the Faunus Wars – before those traitorous politicians stabbed us in the back, and made that unjust peace."
By this point, Nevrand's eyes were bright and alert, and she was hanging on to his every last word.
"May I come in, Ms Nevrand? We have much to talk about, and I think you'll be interested in hearing about this plan that's afoot by our brothers and sisters – to kill Blake Belladonna, and end her miserable existence."
The woman's eyes widened, now –
– and then she gave a fierce and feral smile.
"Well, well. Perhaps today won't be a total waste. Come in"
She let him into the apartment; and as she did, she asked,
"So how did you find me, John?"
From the way she spoke that name made it clear she did not believe it to be real.
In reply, Jaune said,
"I work for the Vale Bureau of Investigation. You're on their list of suspected human supremacists, and that's how I managed to track you down."
Jaune handed her a scroll – not his personal one, but a spare device, onto which he had uploaded the counter-terrorism dossier that the VBI had on Nevrand.
The woman's eyes narrowed, as she took in Jaune's words. Without speaking, she accepted the scroll, and rapidly read through her own VBI file. The more she read, the more coldly angry she grew.
"So the VBI had its eyes on me? I'm not surprised. I was never a coward that was afraid of speaking up against the animals – even though it was getting harder to get certain huntsman jobs."
Her outrage was displayed upon her face; and yet, perversely, there was grim satisfaction too – the former, at being targeted so; and the latter, at having been proved right that people like her were being unjustly persecuted by a state that loved faunus and hated humans.
Jaune took back his scroll, and as the two of them settled down upon the sofas in Nevrand's living room, Jaune said – in an attempt to play upon the woman's conspiratorial mindset –
"I have no doubt they were discriminating against you and your team. But that's not why I'm here today. You've heard the rumours, right? That there is talk amongst both human nationalist and faunus terrorist groups, about assassinating Blake Belladonna?"
Nevrand nodded, her gaze sharp as she remained attentive to his words. Meeting her eyes, Jaune said, with dead seriousness.
"Well, the VBI has warned the Belladonna campaign, and they're ramping up security at their rally tonight, the final one of the campaign. All aura-capable individuals will be segregated from the main audience, and put into a separate viewing area far away from the stage. Unless, of course, you're part of the campaign's own huntsman security teams, as identified by one of these."
From the sofa he was sat on, Jaune leaned forward, to slide across the coffee table a white security card – the very one he had stolen from Corsac less than an hour earlier.
Nevrand was far from a fool. She understood what an opportunity that unassuming piece of plastic offered. Her eyes glinting, she said,
"So you have a way into the rally. That's a good start. But the Belladonna girl is a huntress-in-training; a poor one, maybe, but she'll sense the attack coming the moment anyone aims their gun at her."
Jaune nodded. Even when a huntsman's aura was not consciously activated, their aura sense was capable of warning them of incipient danger. Jaune had been saved by this very capability before – such as when it let him get his aura up, to counter Neo's ambush at that soiree so many months ago.
Modern huntsmen called it the danger sense, while in the old tongue of Eastern Mistral it was poetically named the whispered warning; and then in times past it had been more superstitiously styled the divine counsel – but whatever you called it, the fact remained that the ability was far from foolproof. Jaune said much, to Nevrand.
"Belladonna will indeed sense your attack and protect herself with aura – if you let your mind focus upon killing her. But if you clear your mind, and concentrate on the idea of shooting nothing in particular –"
Jaune brought his right hand up in the shape of a gun, his index finger – the barrel – pointing to the side, into thin air.
"– and only then let your weapon drift towards Belladonna –"
The imaginary gun formed by his right hand strayed in the direction of Nevrand, until it was pointing straight at her forehead. With a jerk of his hand, Jaune mimed the firing of the gun.
"... then you should be able to get your shot in, without her having prior warning."
A huntsman's passive danger sense picked up upon others' intention to hurt them, but was useless against harm that was not explicitly intended. Aura would not warn you, for instance, if a drunk driver was barrelling down upon you from the back, or if your old gas stove was faulty and about to explode.
On her part, Nevrand took in his advice silently, nodding slowly as she did.
"I see. I've heard that there were ways like this, to kill huntsmen despite their aura sense... but I did not believe they were real."
"Oh, they are. The VBI foils assassinations all the time, after all, and it is our business to know how the terrorists operate."
The lie came naturally to Jaune; the truth, meanwhile, was altogether more mundane. The Arcs had been perfecting the way of the blade for over hundreds of years, and that meant his family had developed a strong understanding of aura and its limits.
Nevrand, in any case, looked somewhat uneasy at the thought of huntsmen being killed so easily –
– though that disquiet disappeared soon enough, once the woman re-focused on what mattered to her, in the form of Blake's assassination.
Zeroing in on the heart of the issue, she asked, piercingly,
"And where do I figure in this plan? You didn't come to me for nothing."
Nevrand was perceptive – Jaune had to give her that.
There being no profit in dodging the question, Jaune gave a straight, clear and honest answer –
"I would like to ask you to be the one to carry out this plan – to be the one to pull the trigger, and bury Blake Belladonna six feet under."
His words were blunt; but in response to them, Nevrand only snorted dismissively. Leaning back onto the sofa she was seated upon, she raised one eyebrow.
"And why would I do that? I hate Belladonna, and she's a terrible person with a horrible cause, but that doesn't mean I want to throw my life away killing her."
Nevrand's point was not unreasonable. For the crime of terroristic assassination, one would be imprisoned in the Tower of Tranquillity for the rest of one's life, if not killed outright during the post-assassination fighting – and few people indeed would be willing to brave that.
Jaune needed to raise the stakes, and so he did, by saying,
"Did you know that Blake Belladonna is a former terrorist, one that was part of Sienna Khan's White Fang?"
Nevrand blanched, and seemed ready to interrupt, before Jaune held one hand up to hold her off. Continuing his explanation, he said,
"That's not even the worst of it. To stop the White Fang's terrorism – or at least, to meaningfully reduce it – the Council plans to offer a general amnesty –"
"What?"
The outburst from Nevrand came the moment the word amnesty left Jaune's mouth.
The woman's disbelief and outrage radiated out from her, like heat from a fire. Her eyes hardened into flints, and her mouth pulled back into a wordless snarl, Nevrand was clenching her fists so hard they had turned white as bone, and seemed all but ready to explode.
"Amnestry? Pardons, for those terrorists who have murdered so many innocents? Forgiveness, for these murderous animals?"
In the face of her rage, Jaune was calm. Staring her into the eyes, he said, gravely,
"Yes. The Council grows tired of fighting an endless war on terror, and so they're looking to arrange a political settlement – in return for laying down their arms, the White Fang will be pardoned for all past crimes and allowed to return to their ordinary lives. Blake Belladonna plays a key role in this – as a former White Fang terrorist who has successfully transitioned to a normal, peaceful life, and as Ghira's daughter, she'll be crucial in persuading the White Fang to take the deal. And that's why we need to kill her; why you –"
Jaune pointed straight at Nevrand.
"– need to kill her. We have to nip this disgraceful plan in the bud, and stop our cowardly politicians from rewarding these dangerous terrorists with amnesty, rather than punishing them with death and destruction as they deserve to be."
Nevrand's jaw was working furiously now. Her hate for the faunus burnt hot, and she could not but agree that this hypothetical peace deal had to be torpedoed. And yet, there was a lingering wariness in her eyes too, a fact made evident when she said,
"Still, the risk..."
Jaune smiled, then.
"Ms Nevrand, we have many friends in the Valean government – including in the attorney-general's chambers. They'll ensure you get a sympathetic jury – stacked full of faunus-haters. That'll let you successfully mount a defence that you were drunk, and only trying to fire your weapon to intimidate the crowd – except that your hand slipped, and a bullet ended up hitting Belladonna.
"And of course, my VBI colleagues and I who are sympathetic to the human power cause, will be sabotaging the investigation every step of the way – destroying physical evidence, altering camera records, intimidating witnesses, and so on. All this put together, you will at worst only get hit with manslaughter charges, and maybe serve a year in a low-security prison."
It was a harebrained scheme, based off the ludicrous premise that there were secret human supremacists hidden away in every layer of government, ready to carry out a plot to benefit one of their own. Still, when one was a conspiracy-addled human supremacist, who believed that humans only lost the Faunus Rights Revolution because cowardly politicians backstabbed the brave soldiers on the war front, or that the maintream media conspired to cover-up crimes committed by faunus against humans...
To a person like that, everything seems plausible and nothing questionable.
And indeed, Nevrand was nodding solemnly.
"That's not too bad. But even then..."
She was halfway convinced, and now needed but a strong final push.
Jaune hence reached for the decisive argument that was his trump card – his ace-in-the-hole, and the dagger that would deliver the coup de grâce.
"Ms Nevrand, if you will do this great task for the sake of humanity, your courage will be rewarded. I know –"
Jaune brought his voice down low, and made it thrum with sympathy and sorrow.
"– that your teammates are were badly injuried from that White Fang attack. I know that all those resources directed towards saving Blake Belladonna meant that your teammates did not receive healing quickly – causing your partner to suffer a bad infection and further complications. I know that she's struggling to heal; it'll be a long time before she can walk properly again or hold things without pain, and even then, it's likely she'll never be as good a huntress as before."
None of this was a lie, unfortunately. The VBI terrorist screening watchlist had made note of this fact, as a warning sign for how much Ellen Nevrand hated the faunus in general, and Blake Belladonna in particular.
And now, with the bitter look on Nevrand's face, and the pained look in her eyes – Jaune could see how much her teammate mattered to her, and how this situation might well have driven her into further extremism.
It was that that very concern for her teammate that made her vulnerable, however, and Jaune exploited it accordingly.
Meeting Nevrand eye to eye, and with the utmost gravity, he promised,
"So here's the deal, Ms Nevrand. I swear that if you carry out this assassination of Blake Belladonna, our wealthy supporters will come together to pay the best healers in the world, to restore your teammates to perfect health."
Nevrand startled, at this.
"I..."
Despite all the strength she usually projected, her voice now quavered; and it was with deep emotion that she asked,
"Do you really promise to do this?
Jaune nodded, solemnly.
Nevrand choked up. Overwhelmed with emotion, she brought a hand up to her forehead, even as she tried to blink away tears.
It felt uncomfortable, seeing such emotion – such crushing relief, as born of a lie he told, even if it was in woman he disliked for the prejudice she refused to let go.
He almost felt some regret, for his cruel manipulations –
– but he had a job to do, and a goddess to fool. Banishing whatever pathetic pangs of discomfort his wilted conscience was choosing to produce, he waited coolly for Nevrand to give her reply.
And reply she did. Brushing away the trace of tears from the corners of her eyes, she sat up straight.
A whole change in demeanor had overcome her. Her eyes were bright and hard; her mouth was set in a grim, determined line, and her voice itself was strong, and utterly without doubt.
"I'll do it."
Jaune bowed his head, in acknowledgement.
And that was it – the die cast, the river crossed, the point of no reason passed.
His old teammate would consider this a monumental betrayal, but in truth, her feelings did not matter.
The assassination on Blake Belladonna would go ahead, as planned.
Truly, Jaune made a terrible enemy – but an even worse friend.
-(=RWBY=)-