So. Three months. I don't know what to say to possibly apologize, so I won't - I'll simply tell you what happened.
Life happened.
First, it was a move. I'll tell you, it wasn't easy moving twenty years of accumulated shit. It took over a month, on top of having to clean and paint a house that we were promised up and down that it was ready to move in. We might not even be able to build what we want on the place. Realtors suck. This is on top of me developing minor writer's block, and by the time I wanted to write again I was too damn tired to think straight.
Just ask Karma - I've been extremely negligent to responding to her.
Anyway, that's what happened. Writer's block, moving, minor depression brought on by exhaustion, no big. I spit in life's general direction, because I'm back.
Later
RYNO
Despite what many people thought, the Schnee Dust Company was not fortunate enough to have its richest Dust mines within Mantle's borders. No, the richest deposits that it owned existed in the other kingdoms, two of which were located in Vale. SRD-04 was one such mine that lay in the northern half of the Emerald Forest, remote enough that only Bullsharks were able to carry off the valuable cargo without the exorbitant price of laying down track for a train. Most people would never even dream of using such a hostile environment for a mine – it was surrounded on all sides by Grimm-infested forest, with no natural barriers to help fend off the hordes of darkness aside from a hillock half a mile to the east. A big hole in the ground? With no escape for any hapless workers? SRD-04 was little better than a buffet. It stood to reason that no other SDC-run facility dealt out as much hazard pay as this single mine.
Of course, no other mine paid out nearly as much insurance to the miner's families, either.
Despite only being in operation for the past year, SRD-04 was one of the most Dust-rich veins in all of Remnant. Unbelievably massive veins of the precious resource lay below the surface, a few being the extremely rare self-revitalizing deposits.
Dust, despite what many conspiracy theorists believed, was not a limited resource. All veins would regrow once mined, but that could take anywhere from a decade to over a hundred years. However, certain veins grew where the world's natural energies intersected, providing veins of Dust that regrew at an unbelievable rate, reaching maximum density in little over a week. It was little surprise that despite the mine's hazardous location and exorbitant costs to maintain, the Schnee Dust Company was dead-set on keeping SRD-04 in their clutches. They had already made spectacular use of the three other vaunted regenerating mines, leading to many of their modern achievements.
Normally the mine would be protected by twenty-foot tall defense towers, set in a rough circle around the facility. Their sensors could detect Grimm almost a mile away, and had more than enough firepower to eliminate them. Of course, this would the case if the main generator hadn't failed in a catastrophic power cascade, sending an electrical surge far larger than was ever intended through the lines. The miners were able to get a backup generator running to reboot the tunnel life support system and to get the elevators running, and though they had managed to get some of the miners evacuated it still wasn't nearly enough. It was inevitable that the rising panic and terror of the workers had attracted the attention of Grimm in the surrounding forest, and they were starting to move in.
"Movement! You called it; closest contact is five minutes from your position, directly north. You're right in the way of the mine, sir."
A team of four were all that stood between the miners and a murderous swarm of Grimm. One was nervous, another was focused, and the third was excited while the fourth was calm. Their simple patrol had morphed into something far worse, and help from Beacon would arrive far too late to do anything besides pick up the bodies if they didn't intervene.
On the other hand, they did have support, both from overwatch and their newly-modified scrolls.
All four of their scrolls beeped, opening to a map overlay of the area. Sure enough there was a swarm of red dots approaching from the north. Luckily, their leader had guessed correctly and put the group in between the Grimm and the evacuation.
Suddenly, there was a loud roar from the nearby forest. The four looked up to see a lone Beowolf bound from the tree, but any sense of relief was destroyed when a horde burst out right after it, a mix of Beowolves, Ursa, and Boarbatusks. Thankfully it was nowhere near the size of that been cleared during the special Initiation, but it was still enough to make the ground tremble.
The four gave battle cries of their own, and as they dove into the fray blue lances of explosive Dust cut into the Grimm. It was pure chaos.
-O-O-O-
BEFORE
As the leader of Team JNPR, Jaune Arc was not, by any definition of the word, brave. He himself could attest to the fact that he was quite possibly one of the most cowardly men in Vale, possibly in all of Remnant. He couldn't swing a sword to save his life, let alone save someone else's. So, how was he in command of a team? That could only be answered by Professor Ozpin. And after asking him over a dozen times, Jaune could quite certainly say that the man was never in a talking mood when it came to the methods to his madness. He had three reasons why he should not be in command, all three of which were gearing up alongside him in the locker rooms.
Reason one, Lie Ren. He was a quiet teen, a foreigner whose grandparents immigrated from Mistral. What he lacked in armor he made up for in sheer agility and knowledge of his body and what it could do. He used a pair of bladed submachine pistols he had dubbed Stormflower, and while Ren was often the subject of Team CRDL's bullying because of his slow, gentle behavior, the 'girly' name he gave his weapons and even the pink lock of hair that his partner made sure to decorate every night, Jaune knew his control of Aura was second to none and could wipe the floor with anyone in the school, Cardin and his flunkies included. He simply chose not to.
The second reason was Nora Valkyrie. While the girl's sheer insanity had – and still – baffled Jaune, he knew that she was a powerhouse that was barely kept in check by Ren's calm demeanor. She handled her warhammer and grenade launcher hybrid, Magnhild, with such practiced ease that scared Jaune silly when it was blatantly apparent that a single direct strike from the weapon could reduce one's Aura reserves to nil. Her madness could only be rivaled by her hyperactive behavior, love of pancakes, and undying loyalty and affection for her partner, though she would always claim that they were not together together. Only time would tell on that front.
Lastly, Pyrrha Nikos. The Invincible Woman. The Amazon Champion. The Ender. Whatever name you gave her, Pyrrha was by far one of the most talented people that Jaune had ever met. She handled her sword and shield, Miló and Akoúo̱, with such practiced ease that it made Jaune feel silly sometimes to even swing his own sword in front of her. Not only that, but Miló could shift into three different forms. Handling a sword and shield at the same time was bad enough, but being able to use a sword, spear, and rifle in the middle of combat? Jaune had nothing but admiration for his partner, and knew that she could handle whatever task she set herself to. She was loyal, reliable, kind, beautiful, and caring to a fault. Jaune knew that he was lucky to have ended up as her partner.
So why was he the leader of such talented people? Him? The loser of Beacon? Jaune didn't know. And now he was supposed to be in command of yet another talented girl? He had the distinct impression that whatever gods there were hated him.
When Jaune had gotten the bulletin on his scroll that his team was the first to go on patrol with Constance Carlisle, the pilot of the Dust-powered hovertank, he was immediately panicked. The last month and a half in the school had been more than enough for him to know that he was out of his league, and he was expected to command her, a military-trained professional and his team on an actual patrol outside Vale? Sure, he had seen a weakness on that Death Stalker that no one else noticed, but surely that wasn't enough for Ozpin to trust him with the lives of four people.
Right?
Jaune swallowed, and tried to keep the tremble in his voice to a minimum as he began, "So, what's the plan?"
With a smile, Pyrrha looked up from where she'd been sitting on a bench, adjusting her greaves. "Shouldn't we be ones to ask you that?"
Ren made a final adjustment to his jacket and tucked his pistols inside his sleeves before he turned to his leader. "We won't be able to make a plan until we know the details, Jaune," he murmured, and softly closed his locker.
"Yeah!" Nora crowed as she kicked her locker shut. Ren didn't even have time to scold her before she glomped herself over his shoulders, and with a maniacal gleam in her eyes shouted, "But when we find'em I can smash, right Renny?"
"That's up to Jaune to decide," Ren gritted out, staggering under the weight of his partner. "Please get off…"
"Okay!"
Shaking his head at the antics of the two life-long friends, Jaune adjusted the final strap on his breastplate before closing his locker. He took a quick glance at his scroll before he said, "Alright, I think we've got time before we have to meet with the pilot. Any ideas, guys?"
Ren nodded. "We should probably head over there now. If we're punctual it would reflect well on us."
With mumbled agreements, Team JNPR finished their final preparations before they headed out. It was early in the morning, which meant that almost no other students were up and about. Hell, if it was up to Jaune he wouldn't be up and about until about five minutes before class started. At the very least it was peaceful as the team made their way outside.
At least, that's what Jaune would have liked. Cardin was strutting down the hall in full armor and weapon at his hip. Despite the impossibility of Cardin being up when he could be unconscious in his dorm, it seemed that he had been training as he was panting and stretching his arms. However, as soon as he spied Jaune he gave a happy grin, too happy, one that promised nothing but pain and misery for Jaune as the group passed the bully in the hall.
As Cardin turned around the corner, Pyrrha stopped glaring over her shoulder and turned it to the front door instead. "I really despise that boy," she muttered, all but throwing the door open and stalking out into the early morning air.
"Are you sure you don't want us to break his legs, Jaune?" Nora asked all-too sweetly. "It wouldn't be any trouble! Just a smash-smash and there you go!"
Ren nodded with a solemn expression. "That is true. I've seen it before."
Jaune paled and turned to his team, as they stood before the grand statue in front of the school. "No! Guys, really, it's fine. Cardin's just playing around, he's not doing any harm!"
"Any physical harm," Pyrrha muttered, and before they could go any further she turned and grabbed the front of Jaune's breastplate, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Jaune, you'd tell us if you were in trouble or needed help, wouldn't you?"
Jaune gulped, growing cold. "Y-yeah?" he lied. Not even he could convince himself.
He all but cowered as Pyrrha stared into his very soul, analyzing him. With a sigh she nodded and let go, not believing him, but unable to do anything but trust him for his word as their leader. Whatever value that had, he drily thought to himself.
The team crossed the lawn surrounding Beacon as they headed for the eastern side of the plateau, where the practice field was. It was actually the original sparring grounds, but after years of being torn apart by explosions and Aura attacks, it was no longer suitable for fear of someone twisting an ankle on the roughened terrain. In the middle of heightened combat when adrenaline would be pumping and a fraction of a second could mean the difference between victory and defeat, a simple sprain would go unnoticed and turn into a debilitating injury. Either way, the abandoned field was overgrown with grass and weeds, hiding the ruts from view, and Jaune was hardly surprised when he tripped as soon as he stepped foot on the field.
"Jaune! Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked in concern.
Spitting out a wad of grass, Jaune blushed in embarrassment before grinning. "Swell," he gritted out.
This was seriously not helping his case.
They made their way across the field, all the while helping Jaune whenever he tripped. He swore the weeds were out to murder him they eventually made it, panting and covered in dirt and grass stains while the rest of his team had escaped the insidious weeds unscathed. Still, he froze as soon as he laid eyes on their destination.
They had become still as statues as they warily eyed the so-called 'garage'. It was a squat structure, the kind that substations were housed in. Despite the cleaning that the Beacon janitors had given it, the place was still overgrown with ivy and weeds, and windows that were shadowed by dust and dirt, making it impossible to see inside. It was forlorn, derelict – it was the kind of place that one would see at the start of a horror movie before everything went down the toilet. Though they could see why it was a garage, as there was a pair of large, rolling shutters next to the heavy security door.
"Well, this place is… promising," Ren said.
Silently agreeing, the four waited.
Jaune gulped. "U-um, shouldn't we, you know… go in?"
"Yes, we should!" Pyrrha said with a smile. "And as leader, you should go in first!"
"Wait, what?!"
"Yeah!" Nora cheered.
Freezing, Jaune slowly looked between his traitorous partner and resident hyperactive maniac. "G-guys? Ren?"
Jaune's hopeful look was immediately quashed when Ren crossed his arms and said, "I do believe that it's the duty of the leader to introduce the group, Jaune."
Traitors!
With a gulp and a nervous chuckle, Jaune resigned himself to whatever horrors lurked in the Outhouse from Hell as he quietly slinked towards the door, reduced to baby steps by the time he reached it. The blood rushed through his ears, making the silence deafening as he reached out, and slowly and carefully began to –
"BE CAREFUL, JAUNE!"
Jaune gave a girlish shriek when Nora yelled in his ear, making him fall back against the door in shock. At seeing the ginger-haired girl giggle as she playfully swung her arms, Jaune growled and cried indignantly, "Nora! I almost had a heart attack!"
"But you're taking too long!" Nora said gleefully, laughing as she gave him a playful shove. Unfortunately, a playful shove from her was like a head-on charge from an Ursa – needless to say, Jaune screamed as he burst through the armored security door like he was little more than a human bowling ball. Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora winced as his body crashed against something, making even more things fall over amid his pained screams.
"Why?!" he screamed in dismay.
Nora blinked and pointed to her partner. "Ren did it," she said, making him sigh tiredly.
Pyrrha shook her head as she ventured within, hand on Miló just in case.
The inside of the garage was, shockingly, not nearly as derelict as the outside. Where there were overgrown weeds outside, there was nothing but freshly scrubbed floors and walls on the inside, with the back of the garage lined with tool benches and a heavy-looking cylinder that squatted in the corner, with a hose coiled on a hook beside it. It was a Dust capacitor, a mobile charging station for Dust-powered machines. While much of the place was dated – dingy lighting and cracked floors, with a faint smell of must – the garage had certainly been transformed from the neglected ruin it once was.
Pyrrha could see Jaune where he had collided with some shelving, and scattered pieces of metal and parts lay around him. Though, if his groaning didn't get her attention, the machine in the room certainly did.
Pyrrha sheathed her blade as she stared in awe of the tank. It was inactive, making it little better than a paperweight at the moment, but it had more than enough presence to make even her stop and stare at it. Currently it rested on its footpads, belly nearly touching the ground as it awaited its pilot. From what Pyrrha could tell the garage had been converted from a locker room – though she didn't know all the details, she did know that it had been the previous weapons storage before it was moved inside Beacon. Something about someone trying to break in and steal the weaponry.
"My back…" Jaune groaned.
As Pyrrha gave an amused smile and walked over to help her partner out of the mess he'd landed in, Nora's mouth was gaping as she took in the sight of the tank. It sent shivers down Ren's spine.
"…Ren?" Nora muttered.
Oh, Dust…
"Yes, Nora?"
"I know what I want for Christmas."
"Nora," Ren began, "you're not getting a Dust-powered hovertank for Christmas."
I nearly died the day she finished Magnhild… the world could very well end if she gets something like this!
Nora pouted and whined, "But why not?!"
"Because then she'd be in violation of Public Safety Stature Thirteen: 'Under no circumstances are unlicensed or untrained individuals allowed access to military weapons without prior approval or guidance,'" a voice behind them said, quiet and stern.
Nora and Ren slowly turned, while Pyrrha looked over her shoulder as she hauled her partner out of the mess Nora made with him. Standing by the door was the fox Faunus herself, clad in her piloting suit with the helmet tucked under her arm. However, most of all, she looked extremely displeased. She bored her glare into each of them before demanding, "So, which one of you broke down my door?"
-O-O-O-
Floating. Drifting. Black. Nothing. Calm. Peace. The silence of sleep was something she cherished. It chased away the horrors of the day, ushering in the peace of the night. She could turn herself off and just… let herself be carried away.
And then she opened her eyes.
Connie sighed, rubbing her brow in irritation. It seemed no matter how she'd tried to fight it, she'd always wake at 0500 hours on the dot. Even as she lay there, letting her mind drift off, she could hear the early-morning chirps of the birds outside and see the morning light shine on the wall, burning away the fog she knew to be there. She'd seen it practically every morning in the last two weeks she'd been in Beacon. Now, however, she could see nothing from where she had cloistered herself between the bed and the wall on the floor, in the farthest corner from the door. Her bed was honestly the most comfortable thing she'd ever slept in, but after the first night of merely passing out, she'd felt too vulnerable to sleep in it again, too exposed. Her solution was to simply gather the blankets, sheets and pillows from each bed and throw them into a secluded corner. There wasn't much room to move between the wall and the bed, but her little nest was cozy.
So far, no one had reprimanded her. Having no one to invade her dorm helped, Connie supposed. Her nest was far more comfortable than the bed anyway. Sighing to herself, Connie crawled out of her bundle and got to her feet, cracking her neck as she strode to the duffle she had abandoned on the nearest bed. It was as she was pulling out yet another spare Ironwood uniform that she spied a note she had left on the nightstand between the two beds, laying out in the morning sun. Blearily, she grabbed the note and looked it over, wondering just what was so important that she needed to write it down.
First patrol begins today. No classes. Get to garage by 0800.
Connie blinked, remembering. That was right, the first patrol of her position as a glorified tour guide began today. Then again, she supposed, that the patrols weren't for her sake but for the students of Beacon. Truth be told, she was rather curious on how well the students here would react if they were suddenly thrust into a command position that went beyond their own group. In all honesty she was looking forward to it. Her History, Grimm Studies and Sparring classes were going well, even if she hardly understood a thing in Oobleck's class, had gone over the anatomy of a Beowolf about a dozen times, and had never been called on in Sparring. Her classes passed the time, but they were nothing compared to the feeling of her tank's reactor rumbling through her body.
Her fox was growing restless – if she didn't let it out soon, it would force itself. And that was never pretty.
She reached for the piloting suit that had been languishing on the bed ever since her Initiation and headed for the bathroom. Still in a stupor, it took her a moment before she realized she had left another note for herself on the mirror.
One week left. Make your decision.
At this, Connie's mind jolted awake. Truth be told, the deal she made with Ozpin was never far from her mind. The first two weeks she'd been adamant with herself that she'd stay a month as agreed, and then she'd move on. Ozpin would be out a pilot, but what was her concern with that? Of course, that was before her encounters with Team RWBY. Weiss she'd have no trouble with dumping at the side of the road. Blake? There were too many unknowns about her – her strange scent included – but Connie would… probably hesitate before doing anything rash. Yang and her almost motherly demeanor towards those she was familiar with were quickly growing on her, though Connie still insisted on keeping her at arm's length.
And then there was Ruby. Connie was loathe to admit it, but the red-hooded girl had wormed her way through her shell. It was… hard to explain, especially to herself. If she had to lay it out in the simplest terms, it was that Ruby had nothing to hide. No secrets. No ulterior motives. She was just Ruby. And Connie was quickly growing more and more attached to her. Still, even with all that happened, was it all enough to convince her to stay? She couldn't answer that.
Connie caught herself smiling in the mirror. Wiping it from her face, she stripped and stepped into the laughably small shower, though she found she didn't care enough to scold herself.
Lost in thought as she stood under the searing torrent of water, it still didn't change the fact that her deadline was coming up. One way or another she needed to make a decision. After Ruby's actions and words she couldn't help but trust the girl, something she hadn't done in years. But did that sway her decision enough? Twenty minutes had passed by the time she'd cleaned herself and shrugged on the piloting suit without her really paying attention, and yet she still didn't have an answer.
At any rate, it was time for the first patrol.
Armed and with helmet in hand, Connie left her dorm – giving Team RWBY's door a long stare as she passed – and made her way down to the second floor landing. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice until after she ran into them that someone was on the stairwell as well, though the other person was caught off balance and nearly fell back. Connie gasped and instinctively reached out for the person's hand, grunting as they nearly took her off her feet as well and had to hold onto the railing for an anchor.
"Are you…" Connie began, only to meet to the eyes of the student she saved.
Cardin Winchester.
Cardin, sweaty and most likely coming from a workout, was just as surprised to see her, though he scowled and once he got his feet back under him ripped his hand away and said mockingly, "I don't need your help, animal. Why don't you watch where you're going?"
After staring at the teen for a long moment, mind struggling to decide what to do, Connie's training kicked in just in time before she became angry. She straightened herself, giving Cardin a slight bow as she said apologetically, "Forgive my carelessness, Mister Winchester. If you'll excuse me, I must leave."
She went to walk around him, mind still roiling, only for Cardin to grip her arm and throw her back. She ripped herself away and glared at him as he said, "You're excused when I'm done with you. You owe me."
Connie blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You owe me!" Cardin snarled again.
"For what?"
"Professor Port's class," Cardin growled. "You humiliated me. And the stairs! And the fucking cafeteria! You made me look like an idiot in front of the whole school!"
…What?
Connie stared Cardin down. He was big. He could throw her. And more than that, he was pissed.
Falcone used the wealth, fame and power of his name to bend people to his will, catching them when they were alone to mentally overpower them, and using his surprising strength when that didn't work. Conversely, Cardin used the size of his body to get his way, being shorter than the older Winchester, but was certainly more physically intimidating. Though, compared to Falcone, he wasn't nearly as daunting to her. She inwardly chuckled to herself – maybe that was part of why she attacked him on her first day?
Whatever.
She sighed, shrugging off the familiar sensation of her training and stared Cardin down. "I have no time for games, Winchester," she growled. "I humiliated you? You did that well enough yourself."
Cardin snarled and opened his mouth to say –
"I have somewhere I need to be," she interrupted, brushing past him. "Use that thing you call a brain and try to come up with a better reason why you're keeping me from my assigned duties. Maybe it would keep Goodwitch from assigning you latrine duty."
Connie was stopped once again when Cardin grabbed her shoulder. "Don't turn your back on me," he snarled, almost making her fearful of him.
Almost.
She looked over her shoulder at him. "Falcone Winchester is your brother, correct? Why don't you get some more pointers on bullying, you both seem to enjoy it."
At this, Connie shrugged out of Cardin's suddenly lax grip and walked down the flight of stairs, but when she turned on the landing she got one last glimpse at Cardin's face.
The distraught look he had was almost enough for her to stop.
Pushing it out of her mind, Connie walked down to the first floor. Not surprisingly, there weren't any other students up at the time, though she noticed Professor Goodwitch walking out of the cafeteria with a plate of food and a large thermos in hand, presumably coffee. Giving the blonde teacher a nod as she passed, she headed toward the entry hall and out the door. The birds were chirping in the early morning air, and Connie breathed in the smells she had begun to associate with Beacon, which seemed to be unique to the school alone. Maybe it was simply because the school had been there for a long time, or maybe it was the generations of Hunters that had allowed their Auras to seep into the very ground.
Either way, it put Connie at ease, like the countless age-old warriors were still watching over them all.
And then, the moment ended. There was a loud bang in the distance, scaring the birds into silence and drawing Connie out of her thoughts. She frowned – it sounded like it came from the eastern training grounds.
Her eyes widened and she began sprinting for her new garage. She practically flew as she sped across the grounds and through the light thicket of trees, and sure enough as she broke free to the old practice area, she saw that someone had broken down the door to the garage.
Is it Falcone!? I didn't think he'd try to get payback so quickly!
She sprinted once more, unaffected by the rough ground that the overgrown grass hid from view, and skidded to a stop just before the doorway.
"-know what I want for Christmas."
Connie frowned. Why did that voice sound so familiar?
"Nora, you're not getting a Dust-powered tank for Christmas."
Connie let out a relieved breath. Nora was that girl on Team JNPR – she wasn't familiar with them, but she also knew that while the girl was insane, she was about as innocent as Ruby. They were the ones she was supposed to go on patrol with.
"But why not?!"
Composing herself, Connie stepped through the door and her eyes widened at seeing the state of her garage. Relief was overruled her outrage as she gritted out, "Because then she'd be in violation of Public Safety Stature Thirteen. 'Under no circumstances are unlicensed or untrained individuals allowed access to military weapons without prior approval or guidance.'"
-O-O-O-
The rest of the morning went about as well as Jaune could've expected it to. After being stared down by the fox Faunus, Jaune was slammed with about a week's worth of homework to do in less than an hour and a half, all neatly packaged in a data file that Connie had sent to his scroll. Seeing as this was a test, she packed as much information she could into that file – the patrol path, the surrounding areas, danger zones, nearby structures along the way, species of Grimm they could expect to see, what the weather would be, a schedule for the patrol, and lastly, the procedure to take if they were separated. It was all important in one way or another, but in reality, someone who was in command would usually have time to work through it all and plan out a strategy. Jaune was immediately panicked as he crammed as much information into his poor brain as he could. His only consolation was that if he had been on time - if Team JNPR had arrived at seven in the morning as planned - he would only have had a few minutes before the patrol actually began.
Of course, that was a moot point when Nora was doing her best impression of a sloth on Ren's shoulders and Pyrrha trying to give pointers as best she could. It was all so distracting… and while he knew his partner meant well, he didn't need her help.
By the time the patrol began, Jaune was discouraged, Pyrrha was irritated from being ignored, Ren was exhausted, and Nora was more hyperactive than ever. They all clambered on Grendel's turret, much to Connie's ire, who roared out of the garage in a heart-stopping burst of speed. Nora, naturally, whooped in excitement.
Jaune, Ren, and Pyrrha? Not so much, though Jaune was too busy screaming to notice Ren's resignation or Pyrrha's ever-so slight smirk or the excitement in her eyes.
It was noon, several hours into the patrol, and they were drifting along an old logging trail at an easy pace. Their circuit would take them from the crisp evergreens of the Emerald Forest and into the Forever Fall, looping to within a few miles of Vale before coming back around to the cargo elevator that was nearly hidden at the backside of the Beacon Plateau. It was a massive circuit around the school, and would take them the rest of the day, easily; possibly well into the night if any complications arose.
Jaune hoped to whatever god there was that there weren't any complications.
Still, he supposed the wind felt nice as he sat on Grendel's turret, watching the trees around them for any sign of Grimm. The only break in the monotony was when there had been a lone Beowolf crossing the path – Nora had leapt at the chance, literally, when she launched herself with an explosion and struck the Grimm with an impressive golf swing, screaming, "Fore!" as she propelled the beast straight into the stratosphere.
All of them felt some amount of pity for the Beowolf's fate.
Jaune felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Pyrrha looking at him questioningly. "Where are we?" she asked.
He was too fast as he jerked the scroll from his pocket – it immediately flew from his grasp and each time he tried to grab it, it merely danced among his fingers. Finally it bounced away from him and fell right into the open hatch of the tank's cockpit, and Jaune winced when the scroll hit the side of Connie's helmet with a loud crack. Slowly, she reached over and flicked a switch, the autopilot keeping the tank on course as she turned in her seat to pin Jaune in place with her helmet's red-eyed glare. "Is this yours?" she asked, her filtered voice taking on a terrifying edge as she held the offending device up.
Jaune gulped, hands shaky as he reached for it. "A-ah, yeah, i-it is. Can I have it –"
He wasn't able to finish his sentence before Connie's arm blurred, and Jaune's world exploded into white-hot pain as the scroll slammed into his forehead. He wailed in agony, flopping back onto the turret, and Connie sank back in her seat as she snarled, "Pay attention, Commander."
Nora, who had been watching closely, leaned in to Ren's ear and loudly whispered, "I don't think she likes him."
All in all, Connie wasn't impressed. With the team as a whole, sure. They were talented, always aware of their surroundings – even Nora, who she thought was going to be the major problem, was alert and attentive as she scanned the forest around them, though it was mainly to find another Grimm to punt. But looking at the individuals it was clear that Jaune was the weak link. He just seemed so utterly normal that she was surprised he was training to be a Huntsman in the first place, seeming more suited to a life as a baker or a desk jockey. One needed a certain amount of insanity – or discipline – to want to throw themselves into danger on a daily basis and Jaune had neither of those traits. He was cowardly, fearful, and both physically and mentally unaccustomed to combat.
With the other three displaying such talent, Connie felt pained as she wrote down more notes for when she and Goodwitch decided on their grade. For the team as a whole, it didn't look good. Still, despite her harshness she hadn't passed judgement yet. Obviously Jaune had at least some redeeming qualities, otherwise the rest of his team wouldn't function as well as it did. It reminded her of her old fireteam back in Atlas, to be honest. In the two years she'd spent with them she was always the weakest pilot out of all of them, too busy being mindfucked by the instructors and trying to distract herself from the fates of her parents to do anything worthwhile.
She was brought out of her thoughts when she felt a tingle at the back of her neck, and turned in her seat to see Pyrrha about to tap her shoulder as she looked somewhere towards the horizon. "Stop the tank," she said distantly, but the serious tone in her voice gave Connie pause. She pulled back the throttle, letting the turbines settle into a soft whine as Grendel gently drifted to a stop. Pyrrha immediately jumped down, much to the confusion of her team as she quickly looked back and forth.
"Hey, why'd we stop?" Nora asked Ren. He gave a simple shake of his head, sensing something was wrong.
Jaune didn't know what was going on. Pyrrha had suddenly stiffened and shot from where she sat, obviously sensing something, but for the life of him he couldn't tell what. He calmed himself, trying to recall Professor Goodwitch's exact words on how to sense danger with one's Aura, but… there was nothing.
Suddenly, he realized that was it. There was no wind, no animals, nothing. The silence had a sudden sense of wrongness to it, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Apparently the feeling was mutual among the five of them, as even Nora was looking around warily.
Connie's fingers flew over her keyboard, working Grendel's sensors to find the disturbance. There wasn't anything, much to her frustration, no Grimm that explained the stillness. She checked the seal on her helmet and attached the breathing tube, making sure she was ready for combat at a moment's notice. Her hands were sweating, flexing as she gripped her control sticks, and her nervousness seemed to spread as soon Team JNPR had a hand on their respective weapons. The tension seemed to choke all of them, making them wish that whatever was out there would attack already and end the torment.
It ended when they felt rather than heard a dull crump in the distance, making the very ground shake.
Jaune shared a single look with his team – that was definitely an explosion, and the rising smoke cloud was pretty damning.
"Connie, we need to go over there! Explosions don't just happen!" he said, any trace of fear gone from his voice.
Connie noticed it as well. She smiled beneath her helmet, and she shouted, "Yes sir!" as she spun Grendel towards the smoke cloud, straight through the trees. As she closed the hatch she shouted again, "Better hold on! We're going froading!"
Jaune didn't notice his team grab on to something, instead yelling, "What's froa- WHAAAAA!"
He tumbled back but was saved from falling off when Pyrrha grabbed her partner's hoodie, though he was simultaneously strangled and his backside roasted as he dangled off the back of Grendel. Still, Connie didn't slow, slaloming through the trees at a pace that made Pyrrha go green from the amount of near misses in the first five seconds. Grendel juked to the side, nearly throwing her passengers off, and shuddered when her main cannon boomed and practically disintegrated a tree that they couldn't dodge.
"This! Is! AWESOME!" Nora shouted, throwing a hand in the air and laughing as they barreled through the cloud of dust and wood chips, having the time of her life amid Jaune's shrieks of pain and terror.
Ren braced himself as he wrapped an arm around his friend's waist. "Both hands, Nora!"
"Okay!"
The enthusiastic girl barely had time to grab on once more before Connie pitched Grendel sideways around a tree, letting her stern slam into the trunk of another mid-drift to bounce back on course. Somehow, it was Nora that was clinging to her teammates to keep them from falling off, her arms wrapped around the waists of Ren, Pyrrha, and a badly-singed Jaune and squeezing the life out of them as she continued to scream in excitement.
"How insane is she?!" Jaune shrieked, both from his terror and the pain of being crushed to death.
"I don't know!" Ren shouted.
All of them were relieved when Pyrrha managed to peek around Nora's shoulder, and shouted, "I see light ahead!"
Grendel blasted through another tree, juked around a second, and then it was over. All four of them were blinded when the tank suddenly burst out of the trees and into the light, and it took them a moment to adjust and see that Grendel was speeding through a cleared section of the forest to what could only be called a massive hole in the ground. Towers dotted the perimeter of the pit, and they were stunned when they realized that they were turret emplacements, massive bulwarks of steel that contained enough firepower to shred anything that came across their sensors. They should've been dead before they even finished clearing the forest.
And yet the four they were nearest to were completely silent, their cannons slack and aimed at the ground, with the only explanation being the smoke cloud rising from the pit itself.
Grendel slowed, Connie popping the hatch as she leaned out of her cockpit to get a closer look at the towers and the familiar symbol emblazoned on them. Once she recognized them, she flopped back in her seat with a groaned, "Oh no…"
It was a stylized snowflake. The symbol of the Schnee Dust Company.
Team JPNR looking up from where they had been cowering behind the turret and saw the symbol as well, making them stiffen.
"Uh," Jaune gulped, "Wh-what did we just walk in on, guys?"
Eyeing the dead tower and the rising smoke, Ren paused before he said, "We may have walked in on a Schnee Dust mine being sabotaged, Jaune."
At this, Jaune gulped. "Y-you mean the White Fang?"
"Atrocious," Pyrrha hissed, drawing her sword and shield. "They spit on the honor of Faunus everywhere."
Nora was pale, sick as she eyed the edge of the mine. "Was anyone hurt?" she meekly asked.
At hearing this, Pyrrha looked to Jaune and said angrily, "We need to check it out, people may need our help."
"Agreed," Ren offered.
Taking a breath to beat back his fear, Jaune put on the bravest face he could manage as he knelt beside the cockpit and said to Connie, "We need to get down in there."
She nodded, and Jaune was about to turn when she grabbed his breastplate and pulled him down, his nose almost touching her faceplate as she said gravely, "This may be a live combat situation, Mister Arc. The White Fang do not take prisoners, remember that."
Jaune was shaken, terrified, and sick to his stomach. He wanted nothing more than turn tail and go back to Beacon. Screw the grade, screw becoming a Huntsman, and screw Ozpin wanting his students shoved into something a Hunter shouldn't have to deal with. And yet… those people. The miners would be defenseless. And he couldn't in good conscience leave his entire team out to dry. Struggling to contain to the vomit that was slowly rising up his throat, Jaune gave a shaky nod and said, "A-alright, got it."
Connie stared into his eyes, her own gaze piercing because of her helmet, but despite Jaune's obvious fear he was able to push it aside. She could see his determination. If nothing else, he had earned at least a little respect from her – not many people were able to swallow their fear to do what was necessary. Satisfied that he understood and wasn't going to throw them to the wolves, she gave him a simple nod.
He remained there, frozen and distant, before the gleam returned to his eyes and he rounded on his teammates. "Alright guys," he said, "people down there need our help. What's the plan?"
-O-O-O-
THE NEAR FUTURE…
Her heart thundered in her chest, ears pulsing in time to the thrum of her tank's turbines. Her hands flew over her controls, eyes even quicker as she glanced at each sensor readout, camera feed, and radar screen. Each time the cannon fired the barrel recoiled back, kicking up a cloud of dust around the tank. And with each blast, energized Dust would travel from the reactor through the tank's fuel lines and pool in specialized capacitors in the turret, waiting to be dumped into the firing chamber where it would be suspended by magnetic pulses. With every pull of the trigger, the waiting Dust would be dragged through the barrel by electromagnets, reaching supersonic velocities by the time it left the barrel. Truth be told, this process was applied to any weapon that fired Dust – gunpowder had been found to be too dangerous to fire a Dust round, as it was just as likely that the round would explode in the barrel as it was to fire. The ball of Dust was bright enough that it would leave a trail of light as it flew through the air, burned into the retinas for anyone unfortunate enough to look directly at it and making the illusion of a lance of pure energy. Or, more outlandishly, a laser. Of course, the pilot was protected from Dust Burn, as both the camera feeds and her helmet filtered out the blinding light. Practically any weapon that used Dust in some form was this strange amalgamation of a magnetic rifle and a conventional firearm.
The tank slalomed around a pair of Beowolves that had gotten too close before the pilot flicked a switch, dumping Dust directly into the jets that kept the tank aloft. The effect was like an afterburner, and white-hot flame flared out twenty feet from each exhaust port on the tank.
The same Beowolves that had been circling the steel beast – and their prey that it piloted it – were suddenly bathed in a sea of fire, yeowling even as their bodies turned to ash where they stood. The torrent stopped almost as soon as it begun, and where the Grimm once stood were mere smudges of soot lost amid the circle of black around the tank.
The pilot barely spared her kills a glance before she looked to her allies, zooming in on their position. The situation was turning dire – while less Grimm were venturing from the forest, it seemed that the pack leaders had come out to play. An Elder Beowolf, Grand Boarbatusk, and Ursa Major had ventured onto the battlefield, choosing to strike only when the team of four was focused on their packs. It was disconcerting to see such species, each highly territorial and liable to attack one another at the slightest provocation, working together to exterminate them.
And they were winning. The Grand Boarbatusk waited until the red-haired warrior was distracted, and then it dove into a rolling charge that churned the earth and crashed into her with the force of a freight train. The warrior flew through the air and slammed into a weapon tower, out cold.
With the team's best fighter out of commission, it seemed that it was time to intervene.
-O-O-O-
PRESENT
"Now!" Jaune shouted.
The smoke was too thick for Connie to see through, even with Grendel's sensors. It was a mix of metal particulate, Dust fragments and good old fashioned soot, all three of which played hell with electronics and scrambled them faster than an egg. Connie had no idea what to expect once she and the ragtag group of Hunter trainees got down in there. The leader seemed to know this too, giving surprising insight despite his apparent stupidity. The best way to get in there and keep people from being killed, he proposed, was to drop in and end the battle before it started. As any SDC facility had inhumanly strict security protocols, it was safe to say that if there was sabotage it would only have been carried out by a small group, most likely less than four or five. It would have been a better idea to send in a scout or a drone, but after Connie pointed out that communications going out or going in would have been made impossible by the smog, Jaune had to change up his strategy. Admittedly, it wasn't much of a strategy, but it was tried and tested.
The official name of the strategy, as least coined by analysts back in Mantle, was 'shock and awe.' In reality, it was 'drop in while screaming.'
Jaune was screaming enough for all of them as they flew through the smoke and down into the pit, nearly sent flying himself as he clung to the brush guard on the back of the turret. Connie rammed the throttle open as she pulled back on her control stick, urging Grendel to tilt up as the tank hurtled through the air. If she could expose all of Grendel's thrusters, the landing would be much safer. That plan was ruined with a violent shudder – the stern bounced off something, a building most likely and pitched the nose down, making Connie's insides clench when the smoke abruptly cleared and she was able to see the ground coming in too fast. The realization that they were about to crash land made time seem to stop, and with the throttle as wide as it could go, there was absolutely nothing more Connie could do to prevent the impending disaster.
All she could do was hold on and hope that her charges saw the threat in time.
A second later, the whine of Grendel's turbines became a ragged scream as her nose plowed into a rough mix of gravel and hard-packed dirt. Blue fire erupted from her side ports as both Connie and Grendel's onboard computers struggled to keep the tank from pitching over on her top and crush Team JNPR. Grendel slid further and further, propelled by momentum and her own jets, and Connie could do nothing more than clench her teeth as an excavator loomed closer and closer. The entire world seemed to shudder when the two machines collided, and while the nose came to an abrupt stop, Grendel's stern continued traveling forward.
The tank was flipping over.
Connie didn't know what happened next, and later when she would think back on it, she still wouldn't know exactly what happened. Grendel gave an almighty shudder, poised with her stern sticking straight up in the air. In all other circumstances, she should've pitched forward. And yet, some unseen force held the tank there and pushed the stern back down, letting the tank catch itself on its jets and settle back on the ground, ripping the nose from the dirt.
Unnoticed by all, Pyrrha lowered her hand as the black aura of her Semblance faded out.
Somehow, some way, disaster had been averted. Connie let out a shuddering breath and typed out a command with shaky fingers.
"Damage detected. Structural integrity intact. Fuel lines intact. Reactor online. Weapons online. Sensors online. Warning – forward Dust jets non-functional. Thrust vectoring offline in thrusters one, two, fifteen, sixteen. Projected performance loss of ten percent."
"Sorry girl," Connie muttered as she patted the dashboard, "we'll get you fixed up."
She looked to the forward monitor, and was unsurprised to see that Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora up and ready beyond the toppled wreck of the excavator. They had leapt off the tank as soon as it bucked against the building, landing perfectly on the digging machine with weapons out and prepared for battle. With the toppled excavator blocking Grendel's cameras, it was impossible to see just what the team of Hunters was ready to fight against. Connie manipulated the controls – cursing slightly as Grendel was now steering from the back instead of spinning in place – and maneuvered around the machine, only to be frozen in place at what she saw on her viewscreens.
There was a group of twenty men before them, brandishing improvised shovels and pickaxes. They were miners, covered in black smudges, and judging by how the lot growled them they seemed all too eager to attack.
It was then that Connie saw what had Team JNPR ready to fight. Jaune had been hurled from the tank during the crash, and was now sprawled unconscious only feet away from the miners. What was more, three bodies lay broken behind the group, dressed in White Fang uniforms but unmoving and bleeding from multiple gashes and punctures made from a pickaxe.
In any case the miners were hostile and ready to kill again. And their closest target was Jaune.
Connie swung her turret at the men and shouted through her loudspeakers, "Stand down, now!"
One of the miners, a large man wearing coveralls, pointed his massive hammer at them and snarled, "You damn White Fang thugs! You think just because you took out the generator you can jerk us around?! Back the fuck off or you'll end up just like those three traitors!"
He pointed his thumb at the dead White Fang rebels.
Pyrrha could barely restrain herself as the group inched closer to Jaune. "You foolish man!" she shouted angrily. "Do you honestly think that we're White Fang?"
"Yeah! We're from Beacon you… you sloth!" Nora added.
Ren stayed silent, his body coiled and ready to strike.
The miner snarled and rested his hammer on his shoulder as he meandered closer to Jaune, who was still out cold. He was defiant as he threatened, "Tell you what? How about you lot leave, and I won't bash this kid's head in!"
"You wouldn't dare!" Pyrrha shouted.
Silence reigned over the group, tensions high and ready to snap at any moment.
Connie let out a breath, and once again flicked on her loudspeakers.
"I assume that you work here. We were in the middle of a training exercise when we saw the smoke. We're here to help," she emphasized. "However, you are not in a position to negotiate. You have an eighty millimeter Dust cannon aimed at you, and you can be sure that magnetized Dust travels much faster than your hammer. Stand down."
The miner scowled, glaring from Jaune and back to the group of Hunters before he finally threw his tool down. Behind him, his fellow miners were just as unwilling to lay down their arms but did so anyway, following the first's example. Jaune's eyes snapped open, awakened by Grendel's dull drone and the rocks that had made their way into his underwear. His dazed mind was lost for a moment longer before he saw the miner snarling down at him, and immediately yelped and crab-walked to his team as fast as he could. As soon as he was close enough, Pyrrha leapt to the ground with spear pointed at the ground and her shield between her and the brute, sending a message that she would fight if she had to.
The miner let out one last growl and heated glare at the tank before he shouted to his workmates, "C'mon, back to work! Get those fires out and get that fucking generator back online before any more crazy shit happens!"
As the man turned away, Team JNPR let out a collective sigh.
"That could have gone badly," Ren pointed out.
"He's a big jerkface! He almost pasted Jauney!" Nora cried.
One could hear the malice in Pyrrha's voice as she glared at the back of the miner's head. "Yes. He almost did," she growled, trembling as she restrained herself from attacking the man herself.
Jaune scrambled to his feet, patting himself down for injuries before he let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank you, Dust. I'm not dead."
As his team checked that the blond was alright, Connie was frozen stiff in her seat. That miner reminded her way too much of Falcone – she was thankful that she was safe and sound in her steel shell, otherwise she might have just cowed in front of the man. With a pat against the side of the cockpit and a, "Thank you, baby," she scanned the rest of the strip mine, idly running diagnostics as she did so.
A squat, prefab office building was nearest to her at the northern end of the pit… not surprisingly, the same one that she hit on the way to her crash landing. Needless to say, a good chunk had been torn out of the roof. More buildings clung to the wall of the pit – there was a warehouse at her right and another prefab building to her left, possibly where the miners bunked, and right next to it was a small, fenced-in utility shed that had smoke billowing out the open door, where most of the miners where gathered and trying to fight the flames with their jackets and buckets. Each of the buildings were covered with lines of scorch marks where the wires in the walls simply exploded from the power surge – even now, half of the office building was completely consumed by flame, well on its way to a complete inferno as it filled the pit with acrid smoke. However, the one thing that drew the most attention were the giant steel doors embedded in the cliff wall, with the SDC logo emblazoned on it.
Sure, the Schnee's were serious about security… but making a mine into a fortress was a little unnecessary. However, even with all their security, the generator was a single failure point. Sabotage had been inevitable, really. A heavy air hung over the mine as the workers rushed to get the damage under control – their fear made progress slow, and the knowledge that they were afraid brought on even more dread of what was to come.
Connie popped the hatch and clambered out, leaving Grendel to settle on her landing struts as she approached Team JNPR. The four were looking around the pit worriedly – and to be honest, she was as well – though she bit down on the anxious feeling as she pulled her helmet off. Jaune saw her approach, and said expectantly, "So, what's the plan?"
Whatever else he had to say was cut off when Connie leveled a look of acute disbelief at him, complete with a quirked eyebrow.
"Wh-what I mean to say is," Jaune stammered, holding up his hand placatingly, "is uh, what do we do?"
Connie continued staring at him, not saying a word.
"What Jaune means to say," Pyrrha offered, "is what should we do now that we're here?"
Jaune lit up. "Y-yeah!" he exclaimed.
Shaking her head, Connie let out a sigh. "There wasn't an error when they were picking out team leaders, were there?" she asked, immediately drawing the ire of the red-headed amazon.
Pyrrha glared down at the girl, hostile and ready to pummel Connie into the dirt as she snapped, "Jaune led us safely through Initiation against a Deathstalker and a Nevermore! That speaks volumes about his ability."
Connie shrugged dismissively. "Sure he did."
Stepping past Pyrrha, leaving her to grumble angrily, Connie ignored the equally heated looks she was getting from the other two members of the team as she stood before Jaune. He was nervous, looking to his team for support, though with their grades on the line they couldn't do too much to actually stop the fox girl.
"U-um…" Jaune stammered, not knowing what to do as Connie stared him down.
Finally, she rolled her eyes and asked, "What are your orders, Commander?"
Jaune gulped. "Um, excuse me?"
"What are your orders?" Connie repeated.
Still, Jaune drew a blank.
Eyes narrowing, Connie bit the inside of her cheek as she asked in forced civility, "Do I need to spell it out for you?"
"…Please do," Jaune said, paling, praying that he wouldn't end up with dozens of bullet holes perforating his sternum.
Connie let out a sigh. "A mine full of defenseless personnel has been compromised," she said flatly. "They're all scared shitless and attracting Grimm. The defenses are down. There is no power. And perhaps the only place that could protect them is locked up tight – SDC mines don't open for any anything other than what's needed to keep the company running, and miners are expendable. So, based on the current situation, what course of action should we take?" she said slowly, as if to a child. Any modicum of respect she had been feeling for Jaune was quickly dying, and though his teammates wanted to step in and help, they were also curious to what exactly they were supposed to do. Jaune looked like he was on the verge of panic, beginning to hyperventilate, but as he glanced around the pit and the miners that rushed back and forth as they struggled to get the chaos under control, a plan began to form in his mind.
His eyes took on a calculating gleam, and after a calming breath he said, "We… we need to help these guys. Are any of you good with Dust-powered tech?"
Connie nodded.
"Okay…" he breathed nervously. He hoped he wasn't making the wrong decision, triple-guessing himself, but managed to get his breathing under control before he haltingly said, "Okay. Connie, you need to go over there," he pointed to the utility shed, "and see if there's anything you can do. Pyrrha, Nora, you two need to patrol the pit and make sure that no Grimm gets in. Ren and I will help with the evacuation and put out some of these fires."
He took a breath. "Everybody good?"
As his team nodded – or in Nora's case, give an eerily happy smile – Jaune stammered out, "O-okay, uh… move out?"
Pyrrha gave an amused smile and took a cheering Nora along by the arm. Before they got too far away, Ren looked to Nora and said quietly, "Nora, behave please."
"Okay, Renny!" Nora said cheerfully, letting Pyrrha drag her away.
This left Ren and Jaune standing awkwardly as Connie stared at the two of them, her thoughts a mystery to all but herself. Jaune gulped, and was about to ask what was wrong when Connie spun on her heel and strode towards the utility shed, not sparing a single glance back.
Jaune stood there, frozen in stupefaction. "Uh… she doesn't like me, does she?" Jaune asked, mostly to himself, though hearing the opinion of the Mistralan male would have eased his mind.
"…No, she doesn't," Ren said quietly.
Scratch that. His opinion made him feel worse.
-O-O-O-
Connie was, once again, flummoxed by her group commander. One moment he could be acting as a true commander should, putting civilians ahead of himself and his team and giving them roles that would complement their skills. Granted, wholesale destruction wasn't a skill one would normally be proud of, but that didn't really apply to Nora. But his sheer lack of physical ability was appalling. Holding on to a bucking tank? Subduing an armed threat with his bare hands? They taught Connie that back in her first year.
Shaking her head in exasperation, the fox girl made her way through the smoke that pervaded the pit, heading towards the shape of the shed. Several figures become more and more distinct until the smoke grew thin enough that she could see the head miner shouting orders to the five men that were trying to get the shed back under control, too fearful to go inside.
"What're you waiting for?!" the head miner screamed. "Get in there!"
Another man that was huddled near the door grimaced as he looked to a small handheld scanner, which was making a loud, angry clicking noise. "Boss, the radiation count is off the charts! We'll be fucking well-done before we get anywhere near it!"
The man growled in frustration. "Then put on the suits! It's not like we followed regulations for nothing!"
"Those suits are rated for a hundred seiverts! Not over nine thousand!"
As the man furiously scratched at his scalp, Connie slowly approached the group. "Excuse me, are you the foreman of the mine?" she asked, surprising herself with how steady her voice was.
The large man flinched and eyed her over his shoulder. "Well shit, looks like the kiddie corps are here," he snarled. The workers watched on with a mixture of anger of their own, and anticipation. Foreman Michaels was never known for his patience.
Her ears twitching irritably inside her helmet, Connie drudged up her memories of military etiquette and said firmly, "I've been assigned to assist in repairing the generator."
The foreman whirled on the girl, his face red and veins bulging. "What the fuck can you do?! We've got enough shit to deal with without babysitting brats! So get your little group together and –"
He paused, thinking before he grinned maliciously. "Actually, you know what? Sure. You can help. You see this shed?" he asked, pointing behind him.
Connie nodded.
"Go in there and fix the generator," he said, his grin growing even wider. "You'll have to quick, there's enough radiation in there to cook an Ursa. Still want to help?"
Connie didn't say anything, instead staring at the open doorway. Even from here she could see the wavering mirage effect of the Dust radiation pouring out. To her helmet's sensors it was like a pure-white sun spot in a field of blue. As she stood there, her suit was streaming the data back into Grendel to be processed by her systems, analyzing just how lethal the saturation was. After a few long moments, a tinny, robotic voice said in Connie's ear, "Lethal amounts of Dust radiation detected. Caution is advised."
The foreman chuckled, taking Connie's silence as hesitation. "Now, unless you'd like to help anyone else, get the fuck out of here and –"
"Very well. I will need some time to assess the damage," Connie said, striding towards the doorway.
Foreman Michaels had seen some pretty bad shit in his day. He'd lived through a fourteen day tunnel collapse. He'd seen one of his best friends utterly torn apart by a Creep. So, the sight of the girl barely half the height he was striding to what should have been certain death didn't bother him. That certainly wasn't the case with his employees – they sputtered as the girl strode confidently towards the door, and as she made to pass the one holding the Geiger counter, the man grabbed her arm and hissed into her ear, "Don't do it! That shit will fry you!"
Connie merely shrugged off the man and strode into the irradiated pre-fab shed, trusting the lining of her suit to keep her safe.
The interior was pure chaos. The ten-by-ten foot shed was nearly gutted by what had to have been a Dust-based bomb, most likely Shock that not only ripped into the shed and blasted apart a tool bench, but overloaded the generator itself. Seeing as the things were designed to contain a nuclear explosion, it was obvious that the EMP effect of the bomb was what killed it. It squatted in the far corner of the shed, the cylindrical device reaching Connie's waist and its readout screen flashing an obnoxious red.
The generator was, in essence, a supercharged reactor. It merely contained a charge. After being fed Dust, high-powered electromagnets pulled the volatile energy source along circular tubes, eventually going fast enough that the magnetic pull and the kinetic energy turned it all into a high-yield 'slop.' Not quite a gas and not quite a liquid, the collective energy of the Dust increased nearly ten-fold when it was in this state. Of course, that state had to be maintained, otherwise the Dust would undergo atomic collapse and irradiate everything, as well as that Dust suddenly solidifying and subsequently wrecking the tubes it flowed along.
Which brought the situation full circle. The EMP effect of the White Fang's bomb scrambled the generator's systems, halting the current going through the magnets and practically imploding the thing.
Connie grimaced as she kneeled in front of the thing. Even without touching it she could tell that the generator's innards had melted to slag, with the outer shell superheated and giving off a dim glow. She could have repaired it, but that also meant that there needed to be something to actually repair. A look at the readout displayed a mountain of system failures, all of them pointing to the fact that the generator was now little more than a massive paperweight. Albeit a paperweight that could render one infertile, but either way, the thing was a lost cause. Connie spun on her heel and sprinted out of the shed, getting back to the group of miners before her suit failed. Even now it was feeling a little hot.
The foreman sneered as Connie ran up to them, casting a glance back over her shoulder. "So, how'd it go?" he asked cheerfully.
Glaring at the man through her helmet – and still making him flinch with her helmet's red-eyed stare – Connie pressed a button on her wrist that sent steam pouring through tiny vents along her arms, legs, helmet and torso, making the miners curse as their Geiger counter screamed at them. Once the radioactive vapor faded away, Connie sighed and said, "I was unable to fix the generator."
The foreman let out a short, mirthless guffaw. "Of course not! What'd a brat think they'd be able to do?"
Connie bit back her retort. It's a little hard to fix slag, you baboon.
He waved her off. "Go back to your tin can, you're not needed here," he gloated, his sneer twisting his bearded face.
Despite wanting nothing more than to ram her M54 down his throat, she was all too glad to be rid of the man. However, by the time she had stormed back to her tank a low crump echoed in the distance, followed by the dull explosion of a grenade. Cursing under her breath, Connie leapt back into the cockpit and pulled out her keyboard, fingers flying as she brought up her tank's radar systems, only to freeze in place as she realized what they read. Her shock, fear, and anger culminated in a single word.
"Shit."
-O-O-O-
"Man, I knew I shouldn't have opened my big, stupid mouth," Jaune griped, frantically combing through his umpteenth filing cabinet for any sort of document that looked boring, dull, or otherwise important. It began after he'd approached a pair of bickering miners who were about to venture into the half-burned office building, asking if he could help in the evacuation. Their response was disturbing, the first reason being that there wasn't any evacuation, and the second that, since they were such willing volunteers, they were to go into a burning building, find any document that looked relatively important, pack them up, and bring it all to them.
Outside.
Safe from the fire.
Jaune truly hated himself sometimes.
Groaning, Jaune unceremoniously dumped an armful of paper into an awaiting cardboard box. The room was, thankfully, isolated from where the fire was slowly but steadily consuming the building. It was an archives room that must have been a separate building at one point, but was conjoined into the main hall when the mine had begun to expand. Jaune could hear the muffled crackling of the fire – true, it was half a building away, but it was only half a building away. Fear, common sense, and the imagined voices of his mother and sisters screamed at him to get his scrawny butt out of there. Luckily the two miners must have been at it before Jaune and Ren came along as most of the filing cabinets lining the walls in the small room were already open, abandoned in a state of disarray.
Panting as he kicked the cabinet shut, Jaune looked across the room to where Ren was struggling with a box of his own. "Hey, is that all of it over there?"
Ren grunted, hefting his box and nearly sending himself to the floor for his efforts. "That's it for this side," he said, nonchalant despite his struggles.
"Good, let's get out of here!" Jaune cried, forcing the cardboard lid into place before trying to lift it… and utterly failing. "Damn it! Ren, a little help?!"
Jaune looked up to see his teammate sprint out the archives room, heading straight for the door. "Lift with your knees!" he called over his shoulder, and just like that Ren was gone, leaving for the safety of outside.
For a long moment, Jaune could do nothing but stare at the doorway. "Did… Ren just… abandon me?" Jaune asked himself pathetically.
As if to answer him, there was a loud bang as the fire began to heat a metal door, forcing it to flex and bow. The noise made Jaune yelp and throw his back into lifting the box, arms and legs straining, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as the thing slowly lifted an inch above the floor. Unable to lift it higher, Jaune let out strained squeaks and grunts as he crab-walked out of the archives. The heat from the fire just down the hall spurned him on as he threw himself out of the main doors and promptly caught his foot on the door jamb, falling in a particularly rough patch of gravel. Being draped over the box as he slid merely ensured that his face took the brunt of the assault. Now even more battered than from being launched from the tank, Jaune groaned as the pair of miners laughed at his misery while Ren, who had been standing a few feet away from them with the box at his feet, knelt down beside his leader.
"You okay, Jaune?" he asked.
Jaune let out another groan, muffled with his head buried in gravel. "Swell."
Frowning in concern, Ren reached out to help Jaune to his feet when he heard the distinctive crump-thud of an explosion. A very familiar explosion, one he'd heard for years now.
It was Nora's.
-O-O-O-
To Pyrrha Nikos, combat wasn't just a way to defeat the enemy. It was an art form – the battlefield was her canvas, her sword and shield her brush and paint. Bullet and blade became her technique and her very body was her easel, controlling every aspect of the fight. A battle merely meant that her opponent resisted being painted in the way that she wished to.
Of course, Pyrrha's newest battle was merely keeping Nora from blowing up the forest. Then again who said that keeping Nora from doing what she wanted was easy?
"Lemme go! I'm not gonna be long! Just let me find a wolfie to smash and I'll be right back! I promise!" Nora cried pitifully, lunging towards the forest. She strained against the arms wrapped around her waist, where Pyrrha was digging her heels into the ground in her attempt to keep the girl from going wild. She'd even resorted to holding herself in place with her Semblance, something she'd always reserved for emergencies only.
But holy balls was Nora strong!
Pyrrha gritted her teeth. "We're here to help, Nora!" she scolded. "Not to attract attention!"
"But if I smash, no uglies would even want to come here! Please!"
"No!"
"Please!"
"No! If you don't stop this foolishness I'll tell Ren!"
At this, Nora immediately stopped struggling and stood ramrod straight. With the sudden lack of resistance Pyrrha was sent sprawling to the ground as Nora quietly walked away, her movements stiff and mechanical as she squeaked out, "Then let's patrol!"
With a roll of her eyes, Pyrrha let out a quiet chuckle as she got back to her feet. It had been like this ever since the start of their... 'patrol,' if it could even be called that. Following Jaune's orders the two had climbed to the rim of the mine and began their long trek around the perimeter, watching the tree line carefully for any movement even as they used their Aura to reach out to try to sense the dark, malevolent presence that Grimm possessed. Or, at least Pyrrha did when she wasn't too busy trying to get Nora to cooperate. Mentioning Ren was the only thing that Pyrrha could do to get the girl to calm down, probably because Ren always threatened to withhold pancakes as punishment.
It had only been twenty minutes since they had begun their patrol, and Pyrrha had already reined in the nigh-schizophrenically hyperactive girl four different times. Sooner or later, Nora would be too determined to stop. In the meantime, she continued her awkward, mechanical march, whistling a tune that Pyrrha recognized as a pre-Great War marching song.
How she even knew a song like that was anyone's guess.
Still, it helped Pyrrha focus on her surroundings. The song brought back memories of watching the Victory Day Parade with her father, whose own grandfather and her great-grandfather helped end the Great War. The feeling of duty steeled her thoughts, and she watched the surrounding forest with a calculating eye that, honestly, should only come once one became a veteran Hunter. It was this same focus that allowed her to see a rustling branch almost a hundred feet away, making her pause midstep to see if it was just a trick of the wind.
Nora sensed her friend stop and looked at her curiously. "Pyrrha? What's up?"
Pyrrha frowned as she turned toward the trees, head tilted as she tried to peer into the shadows. "I'm… not sure," she said warily.
There was nothing, not even a leave shifting in the breeze. It was quiet… too quiet.
Oblivious to Pyrrha concerns, Nora took a half-second long glance at the tree line before she shrugged and said cheerfully, "Whelp, there's nothing there now! Let's go! Onward! To Asgard!"
Snorting, Pyrrha watched as Nora marched ahead of her, her finger triumphantly poised to the path ahead. "Do you even know what Asgard is?" she asked in disbelief, struggling to contain her mirth.
This made Nora freeze. She turned around, smiling widely as she said, "Well, my dad was joking one time and said that it's where you guard your a-"
Pyrrha was spared from the horror of what her teammate was going to say next by a loud roar ripping from the forest, and she found herself with her sword and shield in hand without even realizing she drew her weapons. The roar was followed by a black mass of fury and angry, murderous muscle that barreled straight for them.
With a sigh, Pyrrha realized that it was just a Beowolf. She was relieved as she dropped into a crouch, Miló shifting into a rifle in her hands as she took aim at the creature's head. It was an easy shot, ridiculously easy. She could make it in her sleep. However, what she didn't count on was for Nora to let out an excited cackle as she fired a forty millimeter grenade at the beast. The Beowolf didn't even let out a yeowl of pain before its upper half of its body exploded into a fine black mist, leaving the legs to drop unceremoniously to the ground.
"YEAH! Bullseye!" Nora cheered, pumping a fist as she reveled in her victory.
Pyrrha closed her eyes. "One, two, three…" she counted, reining her anger in as the sound of the blast echoed for miles around. Sure, the shot she would have taken would have echoed as well, but not as much as an explosion. Once she reached ten, she let out a long breath and slowly got to her feet, careful to put her weapons away before she turned to the happily dancing girl.
"Nora…" Pyrrha gritted out.
Nora was completely unashamed. "Yes, Pyrrha?"
The happy, innocent smile on the girl's face made Pyrrha falter, and she gave a heavy sigh. "That… was an exceptional shot, Nora," she finally let out, her resolve to scold Nora fading at the last moment. Even with her stupid amounts of strength and what amounted to an explosion on a stick, Nora's deadliest weapon was the ability to get away with practically anything with nothing but an innocent smile. Still, that was a pretty good shot, especially with a grenade launcher.
Giggling and swinging her arms, Nora practically basked in Pyrrha's somewhat forced praise.
Her impromptu celebration was cut short when a loud, echoing howl drifted from the depths of the forest. It was quickly followed by another and another and another, until it seemed like the very trees trembled. The haunting sound struck a chord in the girls' souls that made them want to cower in fear – only their advanced training and familiarity with Beowolves saved them from doing so, instead gripping their weapons with determination.
"It seems that the enemy has found us," Pyrrha said distantly, staring at the tree line. "They must have been drawn to the fear coming from the miners."
Hopping from foot to foot and grinning widely, Nora hefted Magnhild with a gleam in her eye. "I get to smash."
"Of course, Nora. Smash away."
"Ooh! If there's an Ursa can I keep him?"