"In war: Resolution. In defeat: Defiance. In victory: Magnanimity. In Peace: Good will"

Winston Churchill

Chapter Two - Meet the squad

The bullhead ride took a little over two hours. For once, Jaune's motion sickness held no sway over him, probably because his stomach was already churning with emotion. He'd called his family during the flight and told them where he was going and what he was doing. His parents had been less than impressed with him, but it wasn't so different from being a Huntsman, Jaune had reminded them, at least in terms of danger. He didn't mention why he'd been kicked out of Beacon, and they didn't ask. Probably assumed he just wasn't good enough for it. They weren't exactly wrong.

Finally, the airship closed in on a military compound. Looking out of the window, Jaune could make out towering walls of ugly barbed wire and twisted metal guarding the perimeter. Jaune's rational side told him they were to keep intruders out, but he couldn't help but feel like they were intended to keep the inhabitants in. Inside crouched drab, squat buildings which resembled slabs of concrete and two large fields. One was crisscrossed with all manner of barbed wire, wooden structures, tires, camo nets and skeletons of trees, all arrayed as if simply dumped there by the hand of a childish god tired of playing with his toys. The second appeared completely barren except for a menacing sign with a skull and cross bones daring anyone to attempt to enter it. Dominating the centre was a landing pad which the bullhead now eased onto. Gravel paths snaked away from it like grey veins.

The door to the passenger hold of the bullhead whirred open like a widening mouth, revealing Jaune's new home for the foreseeable future. Jaune picked up his bag of measly possessions and hesitantly moved towards the opening. He paused there for a brief moment, one foot hovering over the edge. If he took another step, he would be condemning himself to this life style. "It isn't too late to turn back," a treacherous voice whispered. It wasn't either. If he stepped back into the bullhead, he could return to Beacon with the pilot. He could tell Ozpin he wasn't up to it. That he wanted to go home instead. Was that so bad an idea?

Jaune began to retract his foot. Maybe this was—

"What the bloody hell are you waiting for you miserable dog!? Get your lousy arse down here NOW!"

Jaune leapt to attention and immediately complied with the deep, gravelly voice, such was the commanding power behind it. He jumped off the bullhead, sealing his fate, and ran to stand ramrod straight in front of the source of the bellowing. It came from a broad shouldered, bald man with a clipped moustache, wearing a pristinely maintained combat uniform. He was shorter than Jaune, but such was his commanding presence that he seemed to tower over the teen as he inspected him with a critical eye.

"You're the new recruit from Ozpin," the bear didn't ask so much as state, but Jaune nodded nonetheless. "Good man that Ozpin. Right then you pathetic worm. What's your name?"

"J-Jaune Arc," he stuttered.

"Well, 'J-Jaune Arc', welcome to the army, boy. As far as the military cares, you are now called Private Arc. Here it takes endurance, muscle, and an iron will to survive. None of that pussy-ass aura bull. Just an honest to Oum rifle, and a knack for not dying. Your personal shield ain't gonna get you far on its own. Got that? Good. You see this here?" He pointed to a piece of fabric attached to his chest. There were three lines sewed onto it, each one pinched down in the middle so they resembled bird wings. "This means I'm a Sergeant. You will refer to me as Sergeant Cole, or just Sarge. That means when I tell you to do something, you shut the hell up, and do it ten minutes ago. Got it? If I tell you to give me your gun, you do it. If I tell you to charge the enemy, you do it. If I tell you to unblock the toilet because Private Bounty got his hands on more of those Vacuan biscuits, you god damn do it. Understand?" Jaune nodded vigorously. "Good man." Unexpectedly, a wide grin suddenly split his menacing face and he slapped Jaune on the back hard enough to almost send him flying. "Stick to that number one rule, and we'll be good friends. That a sword on your belt?" He nodded at Crocea Mors on Jaune's hip. Jaune nodded, a sick feeling filling his stomach at the thought of having to part ways with the ancestral blade. "Keep it," barked Sergeant Cole, surprising him. "You're not the first nut job here to bring a fancy accessory to a gun fight." He laughed, taking the sting off the words. "Now come on you lazy son-of-a-gun, let's introduce you to the section."

Sergeant Cole set off at a brisk pace towards a rectangular, hunched building and Jaune attempted to follow, still standing as stiff as a spear. Sergeant Cole looked back at him and sighed.

"At ease Private."

"Sorry Sir," replied Jaune, relaxing only marginally, and retaining a composure of immense discomfort. Sergeant Cole sighed again, and continued towards his destination.

At the entrance of what Jaune assumed was the dorm, Sergeant Cole stopped and turned to face him. "Quick word of warning son. The rest of your section are… well they're all… they're an interesting bunch," he finally finished. "Most of them haven't been here more than a week, so you'll fit right in. Don't mind them if they seem a bit cold at first. Some of them are a right bunch of arses, but they've all got their sob stories. No one joins the army without a good reason." At this, he gave a knowing wink to Jaune, causing Jaune to redden slightly.

Sergeant Cole turned back to the rectangular building and flung the door open, revealing an equally dull and lifeless interior. High, narrow windows permitted slits of grey light to fall onto a dozen or so camp beds, all pushed against the walls to the sides of the room so that they made two rows stretching away from Jaune. Each bed supported a person. Next to the beds, large, blocky, metal lockers lorded over the room. Jaune doubted they were quite as high tech as the ones at Beacon, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about being blasted off in yet another rocket locker.

Sergeant Cole barked out what sounded like, "Room room 'tion!" and immediately, all the inhabitants of the room leapt to their feet and stood to attention at the foot of their beds. Sergeant Cole looked back at Jaune, a smug expression fixed on his face, as if he were personally responsible for their good training. The effect was somewhat ruined when Jaune spied a man stubbornly lying on the furthest bed.

"Corporal Ash," growled Sarge, "on your feet!" In what could only be described as mockingly slowly, the man called Ash swung himself off the bed, dropped his feet on the floor, and stood up. "When I enter the room, you stand to attention, Corporal."

"Yes sir," sneered Ash, raising his hand in a mock salute. Sarge looked like he was fit to explode, but he reigned in his anger with some effort and turned back to the others.

"This is the newest member of Beta Section. His name is Jaune Arc." Sarge's eyes roamed over the troops in the room. "Phil!" A tall man with messy matte black hair and wearing a red breastplate and arm guards, not dissimilar to his own, shot into the air as if electrified.

"Yes, Sarge?" he squeaked out.

"Show the rookie around. Teach him the basics. Make sure he doesn't run away."

"Yessir. Can do. I mean, I've got work to be doing. Lots of work. Very time-consuming work. Work which I really should be getting back to, but, never mind, sir. I'll do it another time. Don't know when, or how I'll find the time. But I'll do it. Or at least, I won't do it now. The work that it. Not what you said. I'll get onto that asap. Yep, no wasting time, it is go, go, go from here y'know? I mean, you told me to, so of course you know. That's not the point. The point is—"

"Put a sock in it, you slimy slug. Just take care of the newbie," and with that, Sarge gave Jaune one final nod, spun on his heel and marched out the room, barking out, "At ease!" as he did so. Immediately, life returned to the statues at the foot of the beds, with some of them retuning to lying down, some reading, some cleaning weapons, and more than a few just watching him intently. Jaune felt a sliver of anxiety at so many strangers staring at him.

"So, um, hi, I'm Phil. Short for Phillip. Obviously. Or not obviously, if you didn't know that. Don't worry if you didn't. The point is I'm Phil." A hand was thrust into Jaune's face to shake. Jaune was slightly bemused by the rapid, high pitched ramblings of Phil, but he nonetheless took the hand and shook it. Now that he had come closer, Jaune could see that Phil's breastplate was much more sophisticated than his own, made of a dull metal painted red and curved to match the contours of Phil's chest. Peeking out from under it rippled a dark, sturdy looking fabric, probably Kevlar. Whereas Jaune's was designed to deflect swords and spears, Phil's seemed ready to tank a punch from Yang with minimal effort. Though, to be fair, Jaune wasn't sure if the same could be said of its wearer. Yang's punches had a nasty tendency to introduce people to nearby walls, usually head first.

Phil seemed to take Jaune's handshake as an encouraging sign, and began to look a little less like a startled rabbit. "So, um, you're Jaune aren't you? Nice name Jaune. I like it. It sounds, um, nice?" Jaune couldn't help himself. He laughed. Despite everything that had happened, something about Phil's nervousness helped to put him at ease. At least he wasn't the only one struggling to stay afloat in this sea of madness.

Phil smiled at Jaune, a hesitant gesture, but which then became more genuine when he realised Jaune wasn't mocking him. "I should probably show you around a bit. Introduce you to the squad. That's what Sarge said. Alright then, follow me." And with that, he turned and strode to the first bed. Jaune hurried to catch up.

On the first bed sat a boy even younger than Jaune with shockingly purple hair parted to hang down over his right eye, whilst his left side was shaved short. "This is Buzz Victorian," Phil informed Jaune. At the sound of his name, Buzz looked up from the book he was reading, wide innocent eyes coming to meet Jaune's, and an easy grin overtook his features, as if he was used to smiling all day.

"Hi there," greeted Buzz. His voice was high and chirpy, and his brown eyes shone when he spoke.

"Hey," replied Jaune, unsure what else to say. He stood like that, staring at Buzz for what felt like a few minutes, the young boy's smile never once faltering.

Eventually Phil coughed awkwardly into his hand. "Err, we really should be getting on with the tour." Jaune leapt at the chance to escape an awkward situation, and as he hurried after Phil he saw Buzz waving goodbye to him as if nothing uncomfortable had just happened.

Weird kid.

"This is Buzz's older sister, Naomi Victorian." Naomi had a very similar hair style to Buzz, except hers was spikier, styled to hang over her left side instead of her right, and was a light blue colour. "She's the brains of the group. You know, who we go to if we have, like, a maths problem or something."

"To whom we go," corrected Naomi, grinning. She turned her gaze to Jaune and scrutinized him up and down. "Nice armour. Steel if I'm not mistaken. Leather straps. Likely won't stop a direct shot, but maybe you'll survive a glancing bullet. Sword. Old but well maintained. Looks like there's an emblem on it. Family heirloom I'd guess. Beyond useless in a gun fight. Trainers, hoodie and jeans. Hardly combat ready uniform. I'd say you either didn't know you'd be going to the army today or you have absolutely no idea what it entitles," Naomi shot Jaune a sly grin. "How did I do?"

"Uh…" Jaune's mouth plopped open like a fish at Naomi's exact description of him.

"I'll take that as pretty darn close," smirked Naomi.

"Don't mind her," advised Phil. "She does that to everyone at first. Still creeps me out."

The next bed along was occupied by a large, middle aged man with a shaggy black beard and a barely contained beer-belly. In a deep, raucous voice, he proudly informed Jaune that he was the legendary Bounty, devourer of dinners and terror of treats. Except Vacuan biscuits. Never Vacuan biscuits again.

Next came a near silent Faunus with a silver wolf tail and long black hair called Aiden Ires. He seemed friendly enough, if a bit unnerving, not least because his eyes were a deep red colour. He reminded Jaune of Ren slightly, but that hurt too much to think about, so he moved on to the next bed quickly.

Here lay a young woman wearing a white tank top, partly covered by a black leather jacket. On her feet were thick black boots which she flung on her bed with utter disregard for the mud which hitchhiked to them. Peculiarly, her right eye was blue whilst her left was green. She introduced herself as Cat Wentz. After their brief conversation, Jaune was left in no doubt where her foot would end up if he ever tried anything on her.

After Cat came a thin, lanky lad called Terry, who looked as if the slightest breeze might knock him over. Greasy blond hair framed a pale face, and his hands kept playing with each other, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them.

In the bed besides him sat a glum, dark skinned man called Finnegan Fletch according to Phil. He had a wisp of stubble clinging to his face and his eyes were sunken and guarded.

That made eight people so far. Phil, Buzz, Naomi, Bounty, Aiden, Cat, Terry and Finnegan, plus Sergeant Cole. Jaune already knew he was going to be struggling with names.

And finally, in the bed furthest from the door, sat cleaning a rifle, was the man Jaune had seen exercise such blatant disregard for Sarge's authority. He was the only other person wearing combat uniform except for Sarge, but whereas Sarge wore an immaculately kept shirt, this man wore just a beige vest. Muscles bulged from his exposed arms. His mouth was downturned, as if ready to transform into a sneer at any moment. His hair was shaved down to the skin and his grey eyes were hard as granite.

"That's Ash," whispered Phil, "he's been in the army longer than anyone here, even Sarge." Phil didn't look like he was about to approach him anytime soon, so it was left to Jaune to attempt to make an introduction.

Ash's eyes remained locked onto the rifle he was cleaning up until Jaune was standing right in front of him. Finally, his slate-grey eyes snapped up and locked onto Jaune's. "What?" he spat. Jaune, suddenly regretting his decision, looked to Phil for help, but the man was practically cowering under the intense gaze of Ash. No help from there then.

"H-hi. Ash, is it? I'm Jaune," he extended a hand for Ash to shake.

"I know your bloody name," Ash replied, going back to cleaning his rifle without a second glance at the protracted hand.

Ok then. "Well, I'm the new recruit." Ash muttered something under his breath that sounded worryingly like, "More bloody cannon fodder", but other than that he didn't react.

This wasn't working. Jaune began to squirm slightly, but he decided to give it one more try. His time here would likely be bad enough already without having someone who hated him as well.

"So, um, Phil tells me you've been in the army a while. I don't suppose you have any advice for me, huh?" The laughter that Jaune had planned to make died an ugly death as Ash's hands instantly stopped what they were doing and he slowly turned to face Jaune. Baleful eyes fixed Jaune to the spot and froze him there.

"You want some advice, huh?" Ash's tone made it very clear that Jaune really didn't. He noticed that the entire room had silenced, drawn to this confrontation like spectators to a gladiator fight. Damn him and his friendly conversation. "Ok then. Stay away from me. I don't need friends and I certainly don't need any dead baggage. At best you're a nuisance, at worst you'll drag me down with you. I've seen dozens of kids like you, thinking they're such hot shit. Brandishing delusions of winning glory on the battlefield, of saving the day, of returning home triumphantly to a hero's welcome." Each word was spat venomously at Jaune with unrestrained contempt. Jaune desperately wondered what he'd done to receive such hate, but he dared not interrupt Ash. "Well guess what? War's nothing like that. The real world's nothing like that. It's brutal. It's cold. It doesn't give a shit about you, or your dreams," he continued with a sneer. "And all those kids? They had to grow up pretty damn fast. It was either that or they ended up dead. I know people like you. Like all the naïve idiots in this room. I also know what happens to them. Believe me. When the guns start firing; half of you won't survive the week."

Jaune was stunned into silence. He tried to tell Ash that he wasn't like that. That he didn't join the army for those things. That he wasn't that ignorant.

And yet…

Wasn't that exactly why he'd wanted to be a huntsman? To win fame and fortune? To be something more than just the clumsy, anti-social Jaune Arc?

He wasn't like Ruby. Ruby wanted to be a huntress solely to help people. To protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Her goal was pure. Jaune's wasn't. Obviously, he wanted to help people if he could. But that wasn't the only, or even the main reason he'd wanted to be a huntsman. He'd done it to be a hero. To be someone important. Someone who people sung about in songs, who was praised and thanked by grateful civilians.

Maybe he was as dumb as Ash was saying.

What did that mean for his future?

Jaune was left to mull over Ash's dark warning as Phil showed him to his bed and left him to unpack his things.

But before he went to sleep that evening, Jaune pulled out his scroll and stared long and hard at the numerous unread texts and missed calls. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands, so tight that the scroll in his grip almost snapped. Then, as soon as it had begun, he stopped, put his scroll on the side of his bed, rolled over in his sheets, and closed his eyes.

He would talk to them tomorrow.

It was a long time before the clenching in his stomach finally stopped. It was even longer before sleep overtook his mentally exhausted mind, and he drifted off to dream of dying.

And that is chapter two of Sergeant Arc for you guys. I'm uploading this a few days early because I don't want to try to compete with Volume 5 of the show (HYPE!). I'm not sure if you guys prefer slightly longer or slightly shorter chapters (leave a review to let me know) but this one feels incredibly long compared to the last one. That's mostly because of how many characters I had to write about. Nonetheless, I feel it's incredibly important to get the entire squad all down on paper so I can begin to play around with them. Four of these characters were very kindly offered to me by Chey Bradley on Facebook (Thanks!), one of them was an OC of mine before I decided to write this fic and the rest I made up specifically for this fic (have fun guessing which is which!).

Thank you to everyone who followed or Favorited this fic, it means so much to me to see people are enjoying what I write. Leave a review telling me which characters you like or which you think need more development in future chapters. I'll see you all in two weeks for the next chapter!