-(=RWBY=)-
Chapter 21
-(=RWBY=)-
Jaune left Ellen Nevrand's apartment soon after the woman committed to the assassination attempt. His whispered lies and velvet manipulations had done their job – and now it was time to see them bear poisonous fruit.
The rest of the afternoon he spent completing a few other minor errands, but once the sun set, and twilight yielded to true night, he made his way over to the football stadium within the Vale 14th assembly district, where the campaign rally was to be held.
The stadium was named Field Mill, for the old flour mill that had once stood in the area, back when sprawling farmland still covered a good portion of Vale. Field Mill stadium was capable of holding ten thousand people – making it far smaller than the Valean national stadium or the home grounds of the major sports teams, while also leaving it easily large enough for the thousand or so rally attendees expected for tonight.
Security was tight, as it ought to have been. The Vale Police Department had set up a security perimeter around the stadium, and no one would be allowed in without first being checked for weapons and examined for aura. And though he could not see them from his position on the ground, Jaune knew that police counter-snipers had been deployed on the rooftops of the stadium; their task was to watch – and be ready to fire upon – vantage points on the surrounding tall buildings, from where long range shots into the stadium could potentially be made. And of course, the police had swept the stadium for bombs, long before the start of the event.
Jaune arrived at the stadium an hour before the rally began. The crowds had not yet materialized – which made it easy to spot Team RVLY waiting for him, in the large, empty parking lot that surrounded the stadium.
"Hey, guys."
As he strode across the parking lot, Jaune waved at his friends in greeting – and prompting them to respond in kind.
"Hi, Jaune!"
"Team RVLY, reporting for duty!"
"Yo."
"Good evening, Jaune."
Team RVLY would not be able to bring their weapons into the stadium without their security cards – which Jaune now moved to distribute.
"Thanks for coming, everyone. Here are the cards that identify you as the huntsmen on duty – do keep these on you at all times."
Team RVLY began attaching the security cards onto their clothes, and as they did, Jaune asked,
"I hope Beacon didn't give you too much trouble?"
Huntsmen-in-training were allowed to take missions only with the school's permission, and while it was usually just a pro forma matter, the nature of this particular job meant that Beacon could well have rejected Team RVLY's application. The school would not have wanted its first-years caught up in a White Fang attack, or some human supremacist assassination attempt.
Ren, however, only shook his head in response to the question.
"Not at all. We approached Professor Port for approval, as you suggested. He was most enthusiastic."
Jaune nodded in satisfaction. Peter Port had always been the most permissive of the professors. He was also an old-fashioned romantic about what it meant to be a huntsman, and was just the sort to heartily approve of young huntsmen gallantly volunteering to protect the innocent – no matter the perils involved. Hence, Jaune had suggested – and Team RVLY had agreed – to seek Port's approval, over the other teachers'. Asking someone like Goodwitch, in contrast, would have achieved nothing but rejection; strict, severe, and ever-sensible, the deputy headmistress would certainly have forbidden Team RVLY's participation in the mission, on account of the danger and the risk.
Glad that they had made the right call, Jaune said,
"That's good; but it's worth repeating –"
Jaune directed this point to Nora in particular.
"– that whatever happens, please don't jump into the fray. Leave things to the professional huntsmen, and above all, listen to my instructions."
His words were delivered with the utmost seriousness, and Team RVLY got the message. They all responded with sober nods, even Nora. And having driven that point home, Jaune proceeded to distribute some mission equipment, of a sort not too dissimilar from what the White Fang had used in their airbase raid.
"Here are tactical radios sets for the five of us to communicate amongst ourselves. Press down on the earpiece to talk, but try not to use it unless necessary. The professional huntsmen will be on a separate comms line altogether, but don't worry about them – focus on your own job, and let them do theirs. The cable ties are for securing prisoners, and the first aid kits are for if you get hurt – but I doubt you'll need either if all goes well."
Team RVLY and himself began fitting on the radio sets, and testing the audio out.
Once that was done, Jaune said,
"Shall we?"
Determined nods from his friends was the answer, and with that, Jaune led them to the entrance area built into the back of the grounds' west stand.
There, in front of the ticket barrier, the police had set up a metal detector and an x-ray machine; they also had an aura-detection device up and running.
Team RVLY and himself got through the security checkpoint without any trouble, once each of them presented their security cards for examination.
Once past the checkpoint, the five of them headed down the nearest entrance tunnel that led through the belly of the stand, out into the interior of the stadium.
The green turf of the football pitch stretched out before them in a neat, rectangular box; and on all four sides were the four stands of the stadium. The largest was the main, west stand which they were at; it held more than half of the stadium's ten thousand seats. Meanwhile, smaller stands about a third that size sat on the north and south ends of the pitch. The smallest stand of all was located on the far eastern side of the pitch; it seemed barely sufficient to hold a few hundred people, as far as Jaune could tell.
The large west stand was where all the ordinary rally-goers would be seated, and consequently the stage from which Blake would give her speech had been set up right in front of it. Meanwhile, all aura-capable individuals were being put into the much smaller east stand – all the way across the pitch, and located as far from Blake as it was possible to be.
As he and Team RVLY walked out from the west stand, and onto the pitch itself, they began passing numerous staffers from the Schnee political action committee – all of whom were in various stages of frenzy, as they rushed to complete last minute rally preparations.
With Ruby and the others following close behind, Jaune headed over to the north stand. Once there, they scaled up the terraces to head up towards the back of the stand. Jaune then located the roof access ladder, which the five of them used to climb up to the roof of the stand.
The night sky extended endlessly above them, the shattered, shining moon in pride of place.
Looking around the roof, Jaune could see that there were two teams of police counter-snipers already in position. One pair was camped right next to the ladder, and watching the factories to the north-west; another pair was on the far side of the rooftop, seemingly scanning the residential dormitories to the north-east.
"Well, here we are."
Jaune gestured out at the roof, from which Team RVLY would be providing sniper cover to the rally.
"Right! I'll start setting up!"
Ruby, ever eager, sped over to the inner edge of the rooftop. Deploying Crescent Rose in its rifle mode, and balancing it atop a tripod she had brought along just for this mission, Ruby began scoping out the stadium below, and checking that she had clear lines of fire into the stadium below. The specially-designed sword-launching railgun, meanwhile, remained slung across her back, out of the way but within easy reach if the situation called for it.
Leaving Ruby to her technical preparations, Jaune turned to the rest of Team RVLY, to say,
"Ren, I suggest you stick close to Ruby all night, so you're in a position to quickly extend your semblance over her. You can also keep an eye on the crowd below, to watch for any suspicious behaviour. Yang, Nora, you guys stand guard at the ladder – in case anyone tries to invade the rooftop."
Ren inclined his head.
"Understood."
Yang, too, nodded, and said,
"Cool."
Nora, meanwhile, was altogether more enthusiastic in her agreement, by loudly proclaiming –
"Aye aye, captain! Anyone comes up here, we'll break their legs, and their heads!"
Jaune found his lips briefly quirking upwards in amusement, in the face of Nora's unbridled Nora-ness, even as he turned away to survey the stadium below, and to consider more serious matters.
The Ace-Ops as well as the other two huntsman teams had not yet arrived, but once they did, they would deploy in force to the east stand, where they could keep a close watch on the aura-capable individuals. With the police already dealing with the more mundane threats of gunmen and snipers and planted bombs, the huntsmen got to concentrate on these aura-capable individuals, and the potential danger they posed.
Jaune knew, of course, that the real threat was going to come elsewhere, but –
The sound of footsteps upon the corrugated steel roof alerted Jaune to a new presence.
Turning around, Jaune found his forehead creasing into a frown, as he was forced to take into account the additional complication that was Qrow Branwen turning up unannounced.
"Uncle Qrow!"
Ruby had craned her neck around to see who had just arrived, and now her face was lit up with surprised delight. Abandoning her weapon, she raced forward to hug her uncle.
"It's so good to you see again!"
"Heh. You too, Kiddo."
The stubble-covered man ruffled Ruby's hair affectionately, before looking over at his other niece as she strode up. Yang was nowhere near as overexcited as her sister, but the smile on her face spoke for itself, when she said,
"Hey, old man."
Branwen seemed mock-offended by the nickname.
"Who'd you calling old, Firecracker?"
Then, with a knowing grin, Qrow Branwen reached out, telegraphing an attempt to ruffle Yang's precious hair – drawing the expected reaction, when Yang slapped his hand away and huffed in annoyance.
The whole familial exchange was endearing; the sisters clearly loved their uncle, as did the hard-bitten, hard-drinking veteran huntsman love his nieces.
He still found it strange to think that Ruby and Yang were related to the infamous Branwen siblings, but here was the proof, if any was needed.
It was then that Qrow Branwen turned his blood-red eyes towards Jaune.
In a tone even less friendly than what he had used in parting, the last time they met in that restaurant, Qrow growled, in his sandpaper-harsh voice,
"So, Arc. What's this about involving my nieces in nasty White Fang and human supremacist business?"
"Uncle Qrow –"
Ruby made to intercede, but Branwen raised a hand to quiet her, and she fell silent. All this while, the man's eyes never left Jaune's.
Calmly, Jaune responded,
"Ruby and Yang can make their own choices, and they've chosen to help protect their former schoolmate from being assassinated by extremists."
His words served to elicit affirmation from the sisters, who chipped in to say,
"Yep, we're protecting Blake!"
"You can't babysit us forever, Uncle Qrow."
Qrow considered his nieces, before Ren stepped in, to offer,
"There's little risk to us, Mr Branwen. The other three huntsman teams will be responsible for crowd control below, while we're up here, far from where any direct combat is likely to break out."
Ren gestured down at the football pitch and surrounding stands, to emphasize his point
Nora, far less subtle than her long-time friend and partner, butted in with –
"If you're worried, why don't you, like, just help? Who's going to hurt us when a big bad Champion is around?"
The mention of him helping made Qrow Branwen grimace, for some reason.
Instead of answering, he peered over Ruby's shoulder, to examine the sword-launching railgun slung across her back, Branwen's grimace then deepened into profound distaste – especially after he glanced at the empty scabbard at Jaune's waist.
The man wasn't a Champion of Vale for nothing; he connected the dots easily enough.
Still, he didn't object. Instead, he merely sighed, and said,
"Well, suit yourself, kids. If you're serious about this, I ain't gonna stop you. Won't be standing around babysitting you lot, but I'll help scout the surrounding area, make sure no uninvited guests turn up. Just remember, Arc –
Qrow Branwen's narrowed eyes drilled into Jaune's.
"– if anything bad happens to my nieces or their team, I'm holding you responsible."
The threat was not particularly subtle, nor was it meant to be – but it only prompted a weary smile from Jaune.
He wouldn't ordinarily respond so politely to threats, but Jaune appreciated that Qrow Branwen was not being deliberately antagonistic here, unlike in their previous meeting at the restaurant. The man was merely concerned for his nieces, and so, instead of defaulting to a cutting remark, Jaune offered reassurance –
"I know what it's like to lose people I care about. I assure you, Mr Branwen, I'll rather die than let that happen again."
Jaune was sincere, and perhaps Branwen could sense that. Giving a grunt that might have been acknowledgement and annoyance both, the man gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Yeah, yeah. Try not to die, any of you."
Jest and warning in equal measure, Branwen's words lingered, even after he vaulted off the side of the stadium roof.
Jaune watched him disappear into the night, unsure if the Champion would be a hindrance to his plans.
Still, with the distraction of her uncle gone, Ruby went back to scoping out the stadium below. Meanwhile, the rest of Team RVLY started up some light-hearted chatter; for better or for worse, they did not seem to take Qrow Branwen's warning seriously.
Jaune spent most of the remaining time before the rally chatting with Team RVLY; but ten minutes to the official start of the event, he got a message on his scroll from Corsac Albain, notifying him that the Faunus Justice Party team had arrived at the venue.
After a quick reminder to Team RVLY to stay alert, Jaune left the roof, to join up with Blake and Corsac down in the stadium below.
By this time, the crowds were large, and growing – more and more people trickling into the stadium, to see Blake Belladonna and listen to her speak.
There were people from all walks of life – faunus in the main, but also humans. There well-dressed professionals, as well as working class folks; men, as well as women; elderly pensioners, as well as bright-eyed students with unbridled enthusiasm.
And there, within the crowd, was the wolf amongst the sheep. Though the sheer number of people made it difficult, Jaune managed to pick out the single unlocked aura signature within the crowd – that single shining star, amongst the sea of lesser lights.
Ellen Nevrand, with a cap pulled low over her head, and with rapier and pistol secured to her belt, stood arms folded at the back of the west stand.
Jaune kept a wary eye on her, even as he made his way to the south stand.
At the stand's western end, there was the players' tunnel. Had this been an ordinary football match and not a political rally, the tunnel would have been crowded, with players lined up in two rows, ready to stride out onto the pitch to the cheers of an excited crowd.
Today, instead, the tunnel was virtually empty, except for a small group of four clustered near the mouth.
It was Blake, Corsac as well as a Belladonna campaign staffer Jaune vaguely recognized; and accompanying them was a harried looking Schnee rally staffer who was typing furiously away on her scroll, in apparent communication with the rest of her colleagues.
The woman would tell them when it was time for Blake to exit the tunnel and greet the crowds, but for now, there was only waiting.
"Blake. Corsac."
Jaune greeted them, and got a terse nod from Blake as well as a murmured word of acknowledgement from Corsac.
Both of them were on edge – though whether it was just nervousness from needing the final campaign event to go well, or real agitation over a possible terrorist attack, Jaune could not say.
The ambiguity was resolved in the next moment, when Blake asked,
"Any signs of trouble?"
Jaune shook his head, and said,
"None at all. Things are going smoothly. No one in this stadium is armed except our own huntsmen, while all the aura-capable individuals have been segregated in the east stand, where they're under close watch by the Ace-Ops and our other teams of huntsmen."
Blake looked far from convinced.
"The White Fang might attack anyway. There might be a heavy security presence in the stadium, but Fang has fought against worst odds before."
Jaune only shrugged. That was certainly true, but it changed nothing, and he said so,
"Well, let them try. We'll kill them if they do."
Blake looked at him levelly, before her eyes glanced down to his scabbard.
"With what? Your empty scabbard?"
Jaune grinned wrly; she had him there. Still, he said,
"Don't worry. If an attack happens, I think you'll find that I'll get my hands on a blade quickly enough."
Blake's eyes gave away nothing, but she understood him well enough to know he had made contingencies.
In any event, she said,
"I'm not lending you Gambol Shroud, if that's what you're counting on."
Blake's weapon was strapped to her back. Unlike him, she still held her trainee huntsman licence. Though she would have to give it up once she was elected and had to leave Beacon for good, for the time being she had every right to bear arms in public.
Beyond allowing her to protect herself, it also brought political benefits – people liked their huntsmen, and anything that identified Blake with the profession probably improved her electoral chances.
"I'm not borrowing Gambol Shroud, don't worry – but to be clear, if an attack does happen, you shouldn't be jumping in. Get your aura up and stay behind me, while the professional huntsmen deal with the problem.
Blake's eye were flat at this point; flat, and unimpressed.
"You want me to be a damsel in distress, hiding behind you? You want me to do nothing, while other people fight and die for my sake?"
Jaune grimaced. He was reminded that ever since Rothenburg, Blake had somewhat of a guilt complex – over not doing enough to save Pyrrha from dying, even while herself surviving. Knowing he had to handle the matter sensitively, he chose to say.
"No one will be dying. Qrow Branwen turned up just now, did you know that? He's helping to scout the area, and with him, myself, the Ace-Ops and the rest our huntsman teams, any terrorists who attack the stadium will be crushed in no time at all. Your role will come after. The rally attendees will be scared, and frightened. You need to speak to them – not just to assure them that they're safe, but also to inspire them, by showing you're not afraid, and affirming that we will never be cowed by terrorists, or those who prefer war to peace."
Jaune found himself increasingly animated, and Blake noticed. Her amber eyes narrowed, and she said,
"You almost seem eager, for a terrorist attack to occur."
If only you knew.
Still, Jaune only shook his head, before saying,
"Not eager; just prepared. We –"
"Excuse me!"
It was at that moment that the Schnee staffer accompanying them spoke up, to say.
"It's time, Miss Belladonna. Let's go!"
Blake nodded, and the Schnee staffer led the way out of the tunnel. Jaune followed, Blake close behind, even as Corsac brought up the rear.
"– and please welcome, Blake Belladonna!"
The rally organizer's words echoed over the stadium's PA system, and as it did, the roar of the crowd came, applause and adulation crashing down like a wave.
As they made their way across the field to the stage set up in front of the west stand, Blake waved to the crowd – and in so doing, earned ever greater clapping and cheering. The love and respect the Belladonna name evoked was impressive, though Jaune did not let it distract him.
His eyes fixed upon Ellen Nevrand in the crowd, and there they stayed, never for a second straying away. The woman had yet to make her move, but until she was safely dealt with, Jaune was going to watch her like a hawk. The moment she raised her gun, he would spring into action, and interpose himself between Blake and the bullet meant for her head.
Their little procession eventually crossed the field, and reached the stage, in front of which was encamped a Vale News Network camera crew eagerly filming the event for live broadcast.
Jaune ascended the stage first, and stood to the side of the podium like the bodyguard he was.
From the edge of his peripheral vision, he could make out Blake as she followed him onto the stage, before shaking the hand of the rally organizer who had helped announce her to the crowd. And then the rally began in earnest, as Blake stepped up to the podium to begin her speech.
"Brothers and sisters, faunus and human friends alike. Thank you for joining me here tonight. Thank you for coming to listen to me speak – about our deeply flawed society, and how we can fix it."
Despite dedicating his attention towards watch Nevrand, Jaune ended up listening to Blake's speech – if only because it was hard to tune out the words being blasted from giant speakers, out to every last corner of the stadium.
Blake spoke of Vale's founding ideals of freedom and equality; of the oppression and racism the faunus nonetheless faced; of the vast gap between lofty aspirations and reality as it was lived, and how it could and should be bridged.
She spoke about how it was important not to despair – about how the cause of freedom had always faced long odds, and triumphed all the same. The initial establishment of democracy itself in the Kingdom of Vale had, after all, been improbable. The country had been poor, and made up of so many different human ethnicities hostile to each other, and ruled by a powerful aristocracy that would never counternance giving up power – and yet, against all odds, the people had successfully come together to throw off tyranny, and enshrine in its place freedom and democracy.
The faunus could do the same, or so Blake said; they could make Vale live up to its founding ideals, and make it ever more just, ever more free, and ever closer to the perfect society she knew it could be.
It was powerful, uplifting stuff, masterfully crafted and even more beautifully said – it moved even him, and Jaune was a cynic at heart. He didn't think Blake had it in her to be such an orator, but he stood corrected – and she was a politician's daughter, after all.
One person that didn't seem to be impressed was Ellen Nevrand, however.
From his position on the stage, Jaune could see the woman at the back of the stand, shaking her head in disgust.
With his aura active, Jaune could perceive the woman's emotions – the fear, the rage, the hurt, the hate.
And then –
Nevrand seemed to close her eyes, and breathe.
Jaune could almost see how she was clearing her mind, and calming herself; how the dark emotions that had been swirling within her slowly but surely ebbed away, until there was little left that would alert Blake's aura sense that she was about to be attacked.
Nevrand had clearly taken to heart Jaune's advice on how best to conduct an assassination. Such an emotion-clearing strategy might perhaps have failed against a more skilled huntress with a keener aura sense, but Blake was but a talented first-year Huntsman Academy student.
Here it comes.
Ellen Nevrand reached for the pistol at her waist. Unholstering it smoothly, she then brought it up and aimed – off to the side, initially, before letting the barrel drift levelly towards –
Now.
Jaune moved.
The force of his lunge left cracks radiating out from where he had been standing on the stage; and his speed left air surging in his wake.
Within a sliver of a second, Jaune was in front of Blake, his body blocking –
! ! !
The bullet smashed into his neck, and though his aura automatically prevented any damage, the pain was excruciating all the same.
Fighting through the agony, Jaune used his aura to further enhance the durability of his forearms, while bringing them up to protect his face
More bullets hit home, and for all that he was now concentrating his aura on defence, the pain was no less intense, nor the drain on his aura any less significant.
And even as he was busy shielding Blake, pandemonium was raging throughout the stadium. Some people were cowering under their seats, while others were making a run for it; and everywhere, there were screams and shrieks, as fear drove people into a frenzy.
It was already a few seconds after the initial gunshot, and by this time, Nevrand had stopped shooting. There was no point anymore, not with Jaune clearly in the way of her target, and not with Blake herself having gotten her aura up.
"Jaune! Are you alright?"
His former teammate called out to him in worry, even as she came around the podium to stand beside him. Gambol Shroud drawn, she was torn between looking at him in concern, and trying to keep her sights on Ellen Nevrand.
At the same time, over the earpiece of his radio set, Jaune could hear Ruby's surprisingly steely voice.
"Providing covering fire now."
Sniper shots rained down from on high, staggering Nevrand and taking off chunks of her aura.
Jaune could also sense the Ace-Ops racing across the field, trying to get to the threat that was Nevrand, even as the other huntsmen teams were staying put, to continue watching over the aura-capable rally attendees segregated in the east stand.
With the shooter being pinned down and but a few seconds away from getting dogpiled by Atlas's best, Jaune didn't see the need to do much of anything. Instead, he stayed on the stage, right hand holding Blake's left wrist tight, to stop her rushing Ellen Nevrand and possibly getting hurt by the veteran huntress.
It was caution, on Jaune's part; caution that he would soon regret, when –
High above, at the back of the stand, a faunus mother and her son were scrambling away from Nevrand, desperate to get away from the crazed terrorist who had started shooting up the place.
Then, in a move Jaune had been prepared to deal with, but which dismayed him all the same, Ellen Nevrand lunged forward to grab the son, to pull him to her chest.
A hostage.
"Come any closer and the boy dies!"
Nevrand shouted out the threat, even as her left arm was wrapped around the crying boy's neck to stop him running away, and even as her right hand pressed her pistol into the boy's temple.
Ruby's sniper shots had ceased. The Ace-Ops, who had reached the foot of the stand and were all but ready to rush up the terraces, were now forced to come to a halt.
One false move on anyone's part, and the child would be dead, his brains blown out to paint the ground red.
The crowd – the boy's screaming mother included – was being herded back to safety by various police officers; the last thing anyone wanted was for Nevrand to be able to turn her weapon on the crowd and riddle them with bullets.
Clover Ebi, meanwhile, was shouting at Nevrand in warning.
"If you kill him, your own life is forfeit! But if you surrender peacefully, you will get a fair trial –"
While their leader desperately tried to warn Nevrand away from the precipice, the rest of the Ace-Ops were having a furious conversation over their own radio set. Though Jaune could not make out what precisely was being said, it was obvious that Atlas's elite were trying to determine the best way of rescuing the hostage.
Jaune, of course, had no need for any such deliberation; his plan had long been laid, with the necessary preparations made. Crocea Mors would cut through Ellen Nevrand, her aura being no defence against Anra steel. And with Ren's semblance masking Ruby's emotions and intention to kill, the woman would never see it coming, nor have the time to hurt the hostage out of spite.
Elegant and efficient, his stratagem made high art of execution – and now, there was nothing left other than to make the call.
Pressing two fingers to the activation button on his earpiece, and opening the radio channel to Team RVLY, Jaune spoke.
"Ren, semblance up. Ruby, switch to the railgun and prepare to make the kill-shot."
He gave his instructions, and in return, Ren responded,
"My semblance is activated."
Ruby, however, said,
"Jaune, are you sure we need to resort to this?"
The doubt and worry in her voice spoke of her reluctance as much as her words themselves did, and Jaune grimaced.
Perhaps he should have anticipated this – Ruby was too innocent, too idealistic, to kill someone without qualm.
It was that innocence and idealism that made her easy to guilt-trip, however; and while he did not want to do this to her, an innocent boy's life hung in the balance, and Jaune had no time to be gentle. Coolly, he said,
"Every other option involves a far higher risk of the hostage dying. So you're welcome to not take the shot, Ruby – if you can live with keeping your own hands clean at the cost of a child getting killed."
There was only silence over the radio, after that.
Yang was the first to break it, by snapping,
"Arc, you're such an asshole. Ruby, you don't have to –"
"No –"
Ruby's voice, quiet but determined, cut through her sister's angry words.
"– it's okay, Yang. I just wanted to check with Jaune that there's no other way. If there isn't, I'll do it."
Yang swore, but Jaune ignored her, in favour of a tersea –
"Good."
The whole exchange had taken perhaps half a minute, during which the situation had not improved. While the crowd had largely been evacuated, Ebi was making no headway in persuading a cornered and increasing agitated Nevrand to surrender. Ebi's teammates were not helping in this regard; the Ace-Ops – particularly Harriet Bree – had aggressive postures suggesting they were ready to rush Nevrand at a moment's notice, and the woman was not blind to this.
Jaune's team needed to act, and fast – not least before Qrow Branwen returned. The man was still absent from the stadium – still away, scouting the surrounding area – but he could well come back at any moment, and Jaune feared that the appearance of a Champion of Vale would alarm Nevrand into executing the hostage immediately.
Jaune turned to look at the north roof, and Ruby upon it.
"Do it, Ruby. Take the shot."
Ruby did not answer, but Jaune could make out her figure at the edge of the stadium's roof, the railgun hefted and pressed tight against her right shoulder, as she took aim and prepared to fire.
It was the fact that he had turned to look which probably saved his life, in the end.
The railgun jerked, and as a terrible sense of wrongness seized him, he threw himself back, his right hand reaching out to pull Blake along with him.
! ! !
The stage exploded, a meter of sharpened steel smashing into it and turning wood and metal into shards and slivers.
Jaune landed on the ground, hard.
Flat on his back, he found himself staring up at the sky, and blinking away the pain from being hurled into the ground at his own superhuman speed.
Jaune initially thought he had hit his head harder than feared, when a spot of black started dancing within the edges of his vision – but he soon realized it was just the silhouette of a large crow, as it circled in the air against the light of the moon.
Forcing himself to focus, he pushed himself back up onto his feet; beside him, a groaning Blake doing the same, albeit more slowly.
"Jaune! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to – I don't know why it – are you two alright?"
The distraught words of an utterly hysterical Ruby reached him through his earpiece; at the same time, Jaune could see a member of the Ace-Ops – Vine Zeki – detach from his teammates and race towards them, all the while calling out,
"Miss Belladonna! Mr Arc! Are either of you hurt?"
Blake shook her head.
"I'm fine."
On his part, Jaune ignored the pale, tattooed man, in favour of snapping at Ruby over the radio channel.
"Blake and I aren't hurt – but what happened, Ruby?"
He tried, but it was hard to keep the anger out of his voice.
He could almost sense Ruby flinch, and her distress was palpable, as she rushed to say,
"I'm sorry, Jaune, I'm so sorry. I don't know why, but the gravity propulsor overloaded on one side when I pulled the trigger, and it threw my aim off badly."
So badly, she fired upon us standing more than thirty meters away from the actual target.
Jaune shook his head. The railgun was newly-built and experimental, but weapon failures of this sort was rare and virtually unheard of. It was bad luck, for this to have happened – they had been unlucky beyond belief, it seemed.
And there was, Jaune noted, an unassuming tear on his hoodie, just over his belly.
His ancestral sword had sliced through it; just a few centimeters further astray, and Jaune would be dead, his guts decorating the stadium pitch.
The close shave was chilling – but there were other things to worry about.
Ignoring Zeki and his pointed warning to evacuate, Jaune leapt into the wreckage of the stage, and retrieved Crocea Mors.
The familiar feel of his sword in his hand was reassuring, even as it did nothing to solve the real problem – the hostage situation, which was deteriorating by the second.
Up at the back of the stand, Ellen Nevrand still had her pistol pressed tightly into the head of her weeping hostage. Her left arm was wrapped fast around the boy's neck, to hold him tight against her; but then – in a move that almost made the Ace-Ops lunge forward in panic – that hand slid down into her belt, to retrieve a large yellow crystal of lightning dust that soon enough began glowing.
"Not sure what your sniper team tried to do, but I've just primed this lightning dust to be ready to blow! My control is all that's stopping it from exploding! It's a dead man's switch, and the moment you attack – even if you knock me out – it explodes, killing the boy!"
Jaune swore, softly. Nevrand wasn't lying; through his aura sense, he could feel the way the lightning was raging within the crystal, barely controlled, barely contained. The moment Nevrand's concentration was disrupted, that crystal would explode into a murderous lightning storm – one that she would survive, but which the aura-less boy most decidedly would not.
"Arc!"
Ebi had turned around now, to shout at him in warning.
"Tell your sniper team to hold their fire!"
Jaune nodded, though he didn't need to be told so – it was obviously a terrible idea, now more than ever, for anyone to try shooting Ellen Nevrand. To Team RVLY, he said, sharply,
"Hold fire. The hostage-taker has set up a dead man's switch – a lightning dust crystal ready to explode the moment she loses control."
Before he was done speaking, Ebi was already turning back to Nevrand, and shouting,
"Look! There's no need for anyone to get hurt. All the huntsmen in the stadium will withdraw, while the police's hostage negotiators arrive – then you can talk things out, peacefully, alright?"
It was an attempt to defuse the immediate situation, and an olive branch of sorts; but Nevrand did not care to accept it, and she made that clear by shouting back,
"Since you suggested it, why not? All of you clear out, except Belladonna, who stays for a chat! Do this now – or the boy dies!"
Beside him, Blake stiffened.
Jaune himself only frowned.
So that's your plan, Nevrand.
The woman was more cunning than she appeared to be, and Jaune reminded himself to be wary.
Ebi, wisely, did not immediately agree to the woman's demand, or reject it. Instead, he played for time, by saying,
"Give us a moment to talk about this! We'll do our best to accommodate!"
Ebi then gestured with a hand, and led his team in their retreat from the stand, to head towards where Blake and Jaune were standing – beyond the ruined stage, near the middle of the field.
The Ace-Ops fell in before him and Blake, but before Ebi could speak, Jaune seized control of the conversation, and began speaking at a rapid pace.
"The woman's name is Ellen Nevrand, and she's a veteran huntress with extreme anti-faunus views. I ran into her before, at a pub, and she went on this insane rant – about how the Council plans to give amnesty to the White Fang and how Blake's going to help persuade the Fang to take the deal. I thought she just some crazy ranting racist, but clearly she's willing to kill for her beliefs."
Jaune had to slip in the lie about what Nevrand had said to him in their confrontation at Junior's club, to provide a plausible excuse for how he knew all this. Elsewise, everything he just relayed was true. The woman believed the wild conspiracy theory about the Council and Blake, courtesy of Jaune's silver-tongue and the visit he had paid her earlier today.
In any case, Blake and the Ace-Ops listened to Jaune's words with deepening sombreness – perhaps discomfited by the full realization of just how unhinged Ellen Nevrand was.
That detachment from reality did not make the woman any less crafty, however, and Jaune continued to say, as quickly as he could while not garbling his words,
"Obviously, her plan to kill Blake failed, but she would still want to make this 'amnesty' impossible, and I suspect her goal now is to discredit Blake. Offer to release the kid if Blake drops her aura and lets herself get shot – that sort of stuff, something too absurd to accept – just to make Blake seem cowardly, and not a political leader worth listening to. After that, the White Fang won't be persuaded by her asking them to take the 'amnesty'. Remember, they can see what's going on now – the TV cameras are still rolling, and the world is watching."
The VNN camera crew encamped in front of the stage had left their equipment behind during the evacuation of the stadium. But now, even without a person operating it, the tripod-mounted news camera was swivelling to-and-fro – switching, between Nevrand and themselves. Clearly, the enterprising camera crew had switched to remote control – the chance to do a live broadcast of a terrorist attack was too juicy to pass up.
"This is why she wants Blake to stay here, alone. It's not as if she can kill Blake anymore, even if we leave the stadium – she can't deplete Blake's aura reserves faster than we can rush back in and kill her."
Jaune was almost done saying what he needed to say, but before he could reach the main point he wanted to make, Vine Zeki beat him to the punch.
"If all you say is true, Mr Arc, then agreeing to leave Miss Belladonna here will get the hostage killed regardless. The terrorist will simply make her empty offer of hostage trading, and then murder the boy anyway to ruin Miss Belladonna's reputation."
"Exactly."
The upshot of all this was that there was only one choice, really – to rush Nevrand, together, and hope against hope they were fast enough to save the boy from both bullet and bomb.
It was a terrible plan, one which would leave the boy little chance of survival, but –
"No. Wait!"
Blake chose that moment to cut in.
"There's another way. My semblance allows me to create clones. I can stay behind alone and offer to drop my aura and become her hostage – while actually producing a clone and hiding the real me behind the stage. Once she tries to shoot the clone, I'll make it collapse, and appear dead. After that, she doesn't need the hostage anymore – she'll let the boy go, and you can arrest her."
The Ace-Ops were all listening intently; they were all clearly taken in by Blake's plan, and the promise of being able to save the boy.
Jaune himself was far less sanguine, and said, pointedly,
"Your clones aren't sophisticated enough to do any of that. The moment any bullet hits, they'll vanish."
His words elicited a cool stare from Blake, who said, quietly but firmly,
"My shadow clones have improved since Rothenburg. My semblance got stronger after I came back from nearly dying."
"Ah."
Jaune was somewhat taken aback – but not too surprised. Aura and semblances certainly did respond to near-death experiences – as he well knew. It was not too long ago that he had unlocked his own aura by hurling himself off the cliffs of Beacon, and his own semblance had only manifested after the near-coma the Seer attack had put him into.
The Ace-Ops, Jaune realized, was looking at him – to him – as they awaited his assessment of Blake's claim.
Reluctant as he was to put Blake in further danger, Jaune could not help but nod. This was probably their best change of getting the hostage out alive, and the risk to Blake was minimal if they pulled it off well.
Ebi certainly thought so, when he made the call –
"Let's do this, then. You ready, Belladonna?"
Blake's nod provided final confirmation, and then Ebi turned to face Nevrand once more, and announced,
"Blake Belladonna is willing to stay and talk to you alone! The rest of us will move out!"
Nevrand had, thus far, been patiently waiting for them to discuss matters – further strengthening Jaune's suspicion that she did have a plan in mind, and was far from flailing about in a blind panic.
Her voice tense but controlled, she shouted back,
"Good! Stay away and no one gets hurt!"
Jaune's mouth twisted, at the transparent lie, but he took comfort in the fact that Blake and her semblance would pull through to make that lie the truth – in a way the insane human supremacist would not expect.
Leaving Blake behind, the Ace-Ops started beating a hasty retreat towards the south-western corner of the stadium. They were not bothering to use the entrance tunnels that led through the belly of the stands and then out into stadium exterior; instead, they seemed to be intending to vault over the metal fencing surrounding the stadium.
Team RVLY, meanwhile, exited the stadium in an even more direct fashion. Once Jaune updated them on the plan, they jumped down from the north roof to the ground on the exterior of the stadium.
Jaune himself was in no hurry; he lingered, for a bit, just to say,
"Good luck, Blake. If anything happens, I'll be here instantly."
Amber eyes met his. They were calm, and focused, and determined – though there was also flecks of some emotion he didn't recognize; some nameless shadow amongst the gold.
Blake nodded.
"Thank you, Jaune. But don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
Nevrand's impatient shout interrupted them, then.
"Clear out, Arc, before the boy gets it!"
Jaune spared the woman a glance. The night had started off hopeful and idealistic, with talk of democracy and justice, only for it to end like this, with violence displacing peaceful politics. It was his fault too, of course, but it took two to tango, and the woman before him symbolized everything that made society such a terrible place.
Giving the monster he had unleashed an ironic smile, Jaune finally took his leave.
Instead of joining up with the Ace-Ops, Jaune headed for the south-eastern corner of the stadium. He could see Team RVLY there, just beyond the fencing surrounding the stadium, and watching the events within the stadium with great trepidation.
A leap brought Jaune to the top of the fence, after which he vaulted over and landed on the other side.
"Jaune!"
An anxious Ruby greeted him, and Jaune nodded, without speaking. He was too much on edge, and the moment he was on the outside of the fence, he was already looking back – looking at Blake, standing alone on the pitch, staring down the murderous terrorist.
Blake began walking forward.
When she neared the ruined stage, one Blake detached itself from the other's shadow; and while the former flitted into and under the wreckage, the latter walked climbed onto the ruined stage itself, to face Nevrand and her hostage.
The ruse was perfectly executed; Nevrand wouldn't have seen a thing, what with the ruined stage blocking her line of sight when the real Blake ducked below the stage. Her aura senses, meanwhile, were almost certainly not sufficiently advanced, to be able to spatially locate aura signatures, and to note the presence of a clone. The skill to do was rare, and possessed only by elite huntsmen like the Ace-Ops and those even stronger. Nevrand was certainly not counted amongst their number, else she and her team would never have been stuck doing dead-end guard duty at some military base.
Jaune himself had no difficulty sensing the two aura signatures in the vicinity of the stage – even if both appeared identical. It was part of what made Blake's semblance so potent – even the most skilled huntsmen could be fooled by her clones, and be left open to devastating, blindside attacks. In this case, of course, Jaune's inability to tell real from fake hardly mattered, for Blake would obviously have sent her clone forward, while she herself hid in the wreckage of the stage.
Their plan was proceeding swimmingly; but even so, Jaune found himself apprehensive, for some reason he could not explain.
It was too far to directly hear what Blake and Nevrand were saying, but Ruby was using her scroll to run the VNN broadcast of what was happening in the stadium, as caught by the remote-controlled camera and its attendant microphone.
"– make this simple, Belladonna, in a way even an animal can understand. I'll trade the boy's life, for yours. Let me kill you, and I let him go; refuse, and I shoot him in the head. You have five seconds to decide if you're too much of a coward to take me up on my deal."
Jaune was right, in his assessment of what Nevrand was gunning for, after her initial assassination attempt had failed. He felt no satisfaction, however, and with increasing apprehension listened as Blake's clone responded to Nevrand, saying –
"No one needs to die because of me. Kill me if you like, but let the boy go afterwards."
Jaune noted the sophistication of the clone. Not only was it capable of movement, it could even speak – a far cry from what they had been capable of before Rothenburg, where lasting even a few seconds was a challenge.
Blake was right; her semblance had improved.
Or –
Or did it?
A quiet voice in his head whispered the unthinkable, and Jaune found himself gripping the stadium's fence so tightly it hurt.
It was foolish, irrational nonsense, born of the frustration of having to be a bystander, as Blake faced down a woman who wanted to murder her.
Jaune reminded himself that his teammate wouldn't lie about her semblance's limits. Otherwise, that, there, would be Blake in front of the stage, about to be shot in the face – and why would Blake want that?
It was a rhetorical question that Jaune directed towards himself, to reason away the apprehension.
Except –
Blake apologizing, that day in the hospital.
"I – I'm sorry, Jaune. I couldn't do anything to help her."
The discussion that night when they were meeting Jacques Schnee; when Blake's survivor's guilt came to the fore, when she insisted – against all reason – that she could have saved Pyrrha from a man who strength rivalled any Champion's.
"I stood by and did nothing when Rainart killed Pyrrha. Never again... I could have shot at him with Gambol Shroud – drawn his attention, forced him to fight me rather than finish off Pyrrha ... I could have used my clones to misdirect him while Pyrrha got away ... We could have reached you, and then helped you fight him ... So you agree that I was deadweight?"
What she said to him, just earlier that evening, anger and guilt evidence
"You want me to be a damsel in distress, hiding behind you? You want me to do nothing, while other people fight and die for my sake?"
The answer came, perfectly clear, and perfectly horrifying.
She was not going to let anyone else die because of her – and she was going to save the boy, even if it meant giving up her life.
A strangled cry broke out from Jaune's mouth, and he found himself vaulting over the stadium fence over the cries of shock from Team RVLY.
As Jaune landed on the other side, he could sense the aura signature under the stage disappear, while the signature above diminished in intensity, in an indication of aura being deactivated.
Blake, you fool!
Jaune burst across the field, his aura pushing him to a shattering, superhuman speed he had not needed, since that fateful day in Rothenburg.
Blake was standing there on the stage calmly, even as Nevrand took aim with her pistol.
A roar left Jaune's throat, and Nevrand's aim wavered – but not enough.
She squeezed out one, two, three shots, before Jaune managed to leap onto the stage and get in front of Blake, his body absorbing the bullets that came after. The pain of those, when they hit him, didn't even register.
"Arc! Out of the way!"
Nevrand's shout of outrage – which only made Jaune want to kill her even more – he nonetheless ignored, in favour of looking back at Blake.
His eyes roved over her to scan for bullet wounds –
– there was just one, just one, over on her right shoulder.
The relief that overcame him then was so profound it made his shoulders slump, and his breath shake.
Thank the gods.
Between the distraction of his entrance, and the recoil of her pistol, Nevrand had missed two of her three shots, and the one that did land hit nothing vital.
For all that, Jaune was unspeakable, unfathomably thankful. He had already lost one friend and teammate; he did not intend to lose another.
Blake, meanwhile, was clutching her wounded shoulder with a grimace, but was well enough – alive enough – to hiss at him,
"Jaune! What are you doing?"
He shook his head.
"Blake, you fucking moron. What were you doing?"
She, at least, did not try to fool him any longer. Grimly, she answered,
"I'm not going to get anyone else die for my sake. Move aside, Jaune."
At the same time –
"Arc! Last chance! Fuck off, or the boy dies!"
Jaune turned, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth snarling.
He truly wanted nothing better than to race up the stand and kill Ellen Nevrand –
– but the sight of the faunus boy stopped him. The glassy eyes and tear-strained face reminded him that even if Blake was alive the boy could well still die – a victim, of Nevrand's hatred and his own ill-judged scheming.
Jaune breathed in, and out.
Calm yourself – and think.
His mind raced at screaming speeds, to take stock of the situation and identify the optimal solution to the problem.
One small mercy was that Nevrand had not just executed the boy outright, and was instead busy trying to get another shot in on Blake. Injuring his teammate had seemingly reawoken the fire of Nevrand's original desire – to kill Blake, and not merely discredit her.
Another mercy was that the Ace-Ops not joined him in confronting Nevrand. They were in a bind, Jaune knew. As elite huntsmen with advanced aura senses, the Ace-Ops could doubtlessly perceive – as Jaune himself did – that the Blake clone underneath the stage had disappeared; it would be obvious by now that it was the real Blake that was injured, and not just a clone pretending to be.
This being so, the Ace-Ops faced an impossible choice with no good options. On the one hand, there could not drag Jaune away and enforce the original agreement with Nevrand – since that just left the real Blake behind to be shot. On the other hand, they could still not rush in, all weapons blazing, to put Nevrand down – since that would get the boy killed.
Given all this, it seemed that the Ace-Ops had defaulted to inaction, though no doubt they were futilely trying to come up with a workable course of action even now.
As for Jaune himself –
His mind settled on a desperate idea. It was terrible, and reckless, and utterly dangerous – but it were no alternatives, and when drowning, even the most frayed lifeline was better than none.
Over his still activated radio set, Jaune issued quick, quiet instructions to Team RVLY.
He had to trust his friends, and their semblances; it was the only way he could think of, to deal with the dead man's switch Nevrand had set up – that lightning dust crystal in her hand, which was primed to explode the moment she lost control.
Of course, Nevrand could just lose her patience and shoot the boy – and so it fell to Jaune, to buy time.
And to that end, he prepared to say that which could cost him his freedom.
"Ellen Nevrand!"
Jaune shouted over at the angry woman pointing a pistol at his face, before she could get too worked up about him ignoring her ultimatum.
"You got played, like a fiddle! You believed all that horseshit about the Council wanting to offer the White Fang amnesty! And why? Because some guy turns up at your house, and tells you so? Because he offers you a way to kill Blake Belladonna?"
Jaune smiled, nastily, even he mimicked the action he had performed that very afternoon, at Nevrand's house, in demonstration of how a huntsman could be assassinated despite their passive danger sense.
In front of a disbelieving Nevrand's eyes, Jaune brought his left hand up in the shape of a gun, his index finger pointing to the side. Then, he let the imaginary gun drift towards Nevrand, until it was pointed straight at her.
"Bang!"
Jaune jerked his right hand up, to mime shooting a gun.
Disbelief turned to incandescent rage, and Nevrand lost it.
"You! It was you! You did this!"
Nevrand's fury was a sight to behold, as she realized the truth – that Jaune was the mysterious stranger from the afternoon; that she had been played, utterly; and that she had just thrown away her life for a lie, and that in dying she would accomplish nothing.
"What are you talking about, Nevrand? You boasted to me of all this when you confronted me in the basement of Junior's pub, and now you seem to have second thoughts?"
The smug refusal to admit the truth only enraged Nevrand more, and she began firing at him wildly.
Jaune tanked the shots with his aura, welcoming as he did Nevrand's anger. Every bullet aimed at him was one not sent into the hostage, and every second she wasted trying to kill him was a precious second bought for the others to get into position.
Of course, it was risky goading Nevrand with the truth, because that way lay the exposure of all his insanely illegal activities – not least his incitement of assassination.
Still, Jaune had been vague in what he said; he had kept to references only Nevrand would understood, and while they were sufficient to rile her up, the public would have heard nothing particularly incriminating. His cover story, the one he had offered to the Ace-Ops earlier, remained as plausible as ever – Nevrand had accosted him at Junior's club, before going on a rant about various conspiracy theories.
It was his word against Nevrand's, and no one was going to believe her after all that had transpired tonight.
And now, the finale –
While Nevrand had been shooting at him in unrestrained rage, the lightning dust crystal she was grasping in her left hand had been steadily growing brighter by the second.
"I'll kill you, Arc!"
Nevrand screamed at him; with her emotions running wild, and with her control over the dust slipping, it was only a matter of time before the crystal exploded.
But Jaune had bought enough time for all concerned, and in the next moment –
A blur of pink and orange in the form of Nora Valkyrie crashed into Ellen Nevrand.
"NORA SMASH!"
Ren was close behind, his semblance active and shielding the two of them. Between the distraction Jaune provided, and Ren's semblance masking Nora's intention to brutalize her, Nevrand never noticed the sneak attack until it was too late.
Nora's hand closed over the dust crystal, and the orange-haired girl spasmed, as an enormous amount of electrical energy surged into her body.
Her semblance of High Voltage kicked in then, and with inhuman strength, Nora wrenched Nevrand's arm away from her body. The offending limb had been wrapped around the faunus boy's neck, to hold him against her, but with it out of the way, the boy slipped to the ground.
It was then that Ren darted in, grabbing the child and spiriting him away to safety. Nevrand tried to bring her pistol around, to shoot at Ren, but she never had the chance to do so.
Still crackling with immense power – and freed from the need to show any restraint, what with the hostage having escaped – Nora swung her left arm around, and punched Ellen Nevrand.
The blow caught Nevrand in the abdomen, and Nora's sheer strength folded the woman in half – before smashing her right into the terraced floor of the stand.
Concrete shattered, and light crackled all over Nevrand's body, as her aura fractured – but it hardly mattered.
During that short, brutal thrashing by Nora upon Nevrand, Jaune had raced up the stand, Crocea Mors in hand.
Sword and swordsman both had no mercy to spare.
Jaune launched himself at Nevrand, his blade flashing –
– and then there was blood, and a huntress, falling.
Nevrand collapsed to the ground, her head split open. Blood poured out, to flow down the terraced steps in a scarlet torrent.
Dispassionately, Jaune watched his enemy's lifeless corpse, as it lay motionless upon the ground.
Where once there had been a living, breathing human with hopes and dreams, now there was but a purposeless heap of meat.
I did this.
Start to finish, Jaune had orchestrated this conspiracy – pulling the strings, and calling the tune, to lead Nevrand down the dark path to her doom.
And yet –
For all that he had caused her death, Jaune felt no grief, no regret. Nevrand's own actions had shown her to be a deadly threat to society, and in dying the woman had done far more good than if she had continued living.
But if icy equanimity came easy for him, it did not do so for Nora. Beside him, his former schoolmate was staring at Nevrand's corpse, and looking queasy.
It was hard for Jaune to remember, sometimes, but for psychologically normal people, every death was a tragedy, and killing felt repugnant, even when necessary.
Wanting to offer reassurance, Jaune reached out, and clasped Nora on the shoulder, before saying,
"Good job, Nora. The boy is safe, and Blake too – and that's all that matters."
"Yeah..."
Nora didn't sound fully convinced, but Jaune didn't press the matter. He could offer his perspective, but it would ultimately have to be Nora herself who came to terms with what had happened.
Leaving Nora to her thoughts, Jaune headed down the steps of the stand, to check on Blake.
The medics had rushed onto the field the moment Nevrand went down, and were just about started to treat Blake. The Ace-Ops were there as well; they all looked angry, and Ebi was raging –
"What were you thinking, Belladonna? You would have died!"
The man's disbelief – and anger – was very much understandable. Jaune had felt exactly the same way, when he had first realized Blake's deception.
Now, however, it was only melancholy that he felt.
Jaune knew, more than anyone else, just what had driven Blake to such insanity. It was the very thing that had made him dive, auraless, off the cliffs of Beacon – made him risk his life, just for the chance to be a hero that could save others.
The need to know you're not a hypocrite, nor a coward.
Unpleasant memories, long suppressed, began surfacing once more, and Jaune's mouth tightened, as he had to actively force his mind to stop wandering down dark roads.
There was, in any case, still work to do.
The sympathy from the attack – not to mention Blake's own insane courage – would lift her political standing, and her polling numbers, to comfortably win her the election.
It was all as he had intended, and all as he had planned; now there was just some closing theatrics to conduct.
"Blake."
Stepping into the circle the Ace-Ops had formed around the medics and Blake, Jaune interrupted Ebi mid-rant.
The man looked at him irately, before shaking his head in frustration, and letting Jaune go ahead. Perhaps he thought that he, as Blake's friend and former teammate, would have better luck making her see sense.
That was, of course, not Jaune's intention, and when he kneeled down beside Blake, he quietly said,
"As we discussed earlier, in the event of a terrorist attack, you need to speak to the people –"
Jaune nodded towards the still-running TV camera not too far away.
"– to reassure them that they're safe, and to inspire them, about how we'll never let ourselves be intimidated by violence or –"
"Jaune –"
Blake interrupted him.
"– enough. I didn't try to save the boy just to let us score cheap political points."
"Blake –"
He tried to get a word in, but Blake scowled, and said, harshly,
"I'm not going to milk this, alright?"
Jaune's mouth set itself into a flat line. He hadn't anticipated this unwillingness on Blake's part, but if she was too scrupulous to politically exploit the aftermath of the assassination...
... well, he could do it himself.
Standing, Jaune strode over to the TV camera in front of the ruined stage.
"Jaune!"
Blake's shouted warning went unheeded, as Jaune spoke into the dark glass of the camera lens – and through it, the audience watching them.
"People of Vale. A human supremacist terrorist just tried to assassinate Blake Belladonna, a candidate in the Vale 14th assembly district election. And though the assassin failed, she managed to gravely injure Blake –"
Jaune held out an arm, to gesture at his teammate and her wounded shoulder, and the remote-operated camera panned to Blake obligingly.
"– and in the process, also take a young boy hostage."
Jaune pointed across the field, and once more the camera followed his direction, this time to focus on the faunus boy still clinging tearfully to Ren.
"But make no mistake –"
The camera turned back to him, now, as his unseen audience drank in his words.
"– this was not just an attack against Blake Belladonna; it was an attack against all of us, and Valean democracy itself."
Jaune paused, and searched for the right words – before settling on reiterating the part of Blake's speech from earlier, which he had found so inspiring.
"Many of you would have tuned in only after the terrorist attack, and would have missed Blake Belladonna's speech earlier in the evening – but what she said then is worth repeating."
Jaune looked into the camera – and spoke to the people he knew were listening, from the rally-goers congregated outside the stadium to those watching at home.
"As Blake said, Vale's democracy is a miracle that should never have happened. We were so poor, for so long – everyone was always too concerned with survival and putting food on the table, to even think about demanding freedom. We were a dozen faunus tribes, and a hundred human ethnicities, spread across the continent – all too hostile to each other, to come together and fight for the right to rule ourselves. And to make matters worse, the Kings of Vale and the aristocracy supporting the throne have never been the enlightened sort – few amongst their number were willing to entertain liberalization, and the granting of rights to us peasants."
It was a grandiose, almost pretentious speech, and Jaune felt somewhat foolish making it.
But –
If he had learnt anything at all, from being forced by Watts into getting involved with politics, it was that words mattered. In the end, it wasn't his strength or his skill, his sword or his semblance, that had made the difference in the various tasks put to him by Watts. Rather, it was fine words and clever arguments, cold reason and emotional manipulation, that had brought him success – in convincing Blake to run; in persuading Jacques Schnee to part with his money; and finally, in inducing Ellen Nevrand to kill an innocent girl.
All just words; his words – and now, they helped him weave one final spell.
"So how did we do it, in the end? How did we overthrow the tyranny of the Kings of Vale, even if there were false starts along the way? Well, because of brave people willing to sacrifice their lives to stand up for what's right. And that sort of bravery we still need today – not just from our huntsmen, in the fight against the Grimm; but also from our politicians, in the fight to improve our lives. And that's why I'm asking you to vote for Blake Belladonna –"
Jaune gestured at his teammate, whose frown was even now deepening.
"– who dropped her aura and let herself get shot – and almost killed – just to save the life of a young boy she had never before met. I –"
"Jaune!"
Blake was angry now; furious, in a way he had rarely seen her.
"Stop embarrassing yourself – embarrassing me! I'm not a hero just because some crazed human terrorist tried to kill me!"
As Blake hissed at him in admonishment, Jaune only shrugged – before turning to the camera, and the audience who could be their judge.
"Blake Belladonna says she's not a hero, and I disagree. What do you think, people of Vale?"
Jaune had hardly finished speaking, when suddenly, a roar overtook them – as a titanic wave of cheers and claps washed in from outside the stadium.
It was the rally-goers still congregated outside the stadium, making their opinion heard.
In the face of overwhelming public approval and acclamation, Blake's could no longer credibly protest, and she fell silent instead.
And it was then that Jaune knew he had won.
All the lies and machinations; all the death and destruction – they had paid off. Blake would be elected, to do some real good for both faunus and humans, while he was one step closer to infiltrating Salem's inner circle.
As thunderous applause continued to reverberate throughout the stadium, Jaune drank it all in; though it was for Blake and not for him, Jaune let himself enjoy it, as the proof that all he had done had been worth it in the end.
And yet –
And yet he could not forget the blood on his sword, nor the woman he had made into a corpse.
Necessary sacrifices, for the greater good, and without which the world could not be saved or bettered.
That much Jaune was rationally convinced of, and that much his mind understood –
– but he could stop his heart from doubting, or himself from wondering, whether he would be so keen on such sacrifices when it was himself on the line. As a huntsman, he had certainly risked his life, time and again – but only when he had a plan, as in the Beacon initiation; or else when he had no choice, as in Rothenburg; or else when the danger was minimal, as when he fought common huntsmen like Nevrand whose strength could never match his own.
Jaune had never had to accept the certainty of his own death, as the price to pay to save other people – as Blake had so courageously done, when she faced down Nevrand.
Would I be so brave, in her position? Would I give up my life, for others?
And that fact, that doubt – it ate him, utterly. It was the poison in his soul, the darkness in his heart – the ever-present companion of his life since the Domremy Collapse, when he did unspeakable things to survive.
Jaune glanced at Blake.
She was not the only one who could not escape the past. For her, it was Rothenburg she was trapped in; for Jaune, it was Domremy he could never leave.
The applause from the crowd outside the stadium was still going strong.
But where before Jaune was enjoying it, now the adulation was as ashes on his tongue.
And he was resolved –
One day, like Blake, I will earn this.
He was not a coward, nor a hypocrite – and if he needed to, he would die to prove it.
-(=RWBY=)-
A/N: I've recently been in talks with a literary agent to get an original novel of mine published. While I'm optimistic, I do have to do a lot of rewriting to get the novel into a publishable state – leaving me little time for writing fan fiction. Expect updates to Queen of Air and Darkness to be more infrequent and irregular going forward – apologies for that.