Jaune's good mood could be ruined by absolutely nothing. He hummed to himself while packing his bags for Beacon. Clothing? Check. Toothbrush? Check. Spandex super suit? Check again. What else was he missing?
"Ah, yes." Jaune ran downstairs. "Glynda, where do you keep my dad's old stuff?" he asked his aunt.
Glynda looked up from the paperwork she was filling out. She had a complex expression on her face. A look of both the pride she felt for her nephew and the regret she felt for not showing him his father's possessions earlier.
"Jaune," she said standing up from her chair, "I am proud of you." Jaune gave his aunt a confused look. Glynda cursed herself for being so distant from the boy. He just looked so much like his father. It was like he was alive again.
"Um…Thanks," Jaune said lamely after a short but incredibly awkward pause. It wasn't like his aunt to show affection for him. Glynda quickly regained her composure.
"Well, follow me. I'm sure we have a few boxes in the attic. I assume you're looking for his old equipment? Unless you plan to make your own." Jaune nodded as he followed his aunt up to the attic. "Jaune, just so you know, I had nothing to do-" Glynda started.
"I know, I know. You didn't pull any strings to get me in," Jaune finished for her. Jaune could easily see why she would be worried he would think that. He hadn't fulfilled close to even half of the requirements to even be considered a valid applicant to Beacon, much less accepted. The biggest requirement being his physical assessment; something usually done at schools like Signal. Having not attended a combat school, he told his aunt he had taken the physical assessment at Beacon, which his aunt was skeptical about to say the least. She hadn't pressed the issue at the time, but now she was wondering what miracle occurred to get Jaune in this academy.
Glynda pulled a chain on the ceiling, allowing a set of minimalist stairs to unfold and provide easy access to the attic.
"Ladies first." Jaune smirked, gesturing to Glynda with his arms. The teacher rolled her eyes, but said nothing as she ascended up the stairs with Jaune close behind.
Jaune coughed a few times as he entered the dusty and dim-light attic.
"Wow," he commented, "I didn't know we kept so much stuff up here." He grabbed a box at random and peeked inside. Just a bunch of clothes.
"Most of them are things your sisters left behind when they moved out," Glynda replied while looking for a certain box in particular. "Speaking of your sisters, I believe Jean may have said something about dropping by to congratulate you." Jaune's pupils shrank to two small specks as he dropped the box in his hands on to the floor, resulting in a heavy thud on the floor.
"Oh please no!" Jaune whimpered as he bent down to pick up the box.
"Oh, do be nice, Jaune. She means well. She canceled two international passenger ships to come pilot her bullhead down here as soon as she heard the news," Glynda chided her nephew. Jaune, however, was no longer listening in the slightest. He was staring at the contents of the box he had dropped. He picked up an archaic looking breastplate from the box. Was this his dad's? Just how old was this thing? The thing was so bulky it was literally the only thing in the box.
"Ah, I see you found one of the pieces of Isaac's armor. The other pieces should be nearby," Glynda said with a touch of sadness present in her voice.
After around a half an hour of searching through various boxes, they found the rest of the armor, as well as the sword and sheath to match. Jaune had laid all the pieces on the floor of the living room, setting aside the sword in its sheath.
"What do you think?" asked Glynda with a faint smile gracing her face.
"How the crap did my dad walk around in this thing? It must weigh like fifty pounds!"
"No Jaune, I meant the sword. Its name is Crocea Mors, meaning 'Yellow Death.'" Jaune unsheathed the sword. Although simple in design, it appeared to be expertly crafted as it still held a sharp edge, even after all these years. Jaune's face turned to one of confusion.
"What's wrong, dear?" asked his aunt, hoping the weapon didn't stir up painful memories for the boy.
"The sword. It's one-handed," remarked Jaune, examining the sword thoroughly. Glynda let out a breath of air she didn't realize she was holding.
"Yes. The sheath has a button on it to-" she started, but was interrupted by the mechanical sound of the sheath transforming.
Thunk!
"Owch!"
Jaune had opened the shield directly into his own face. So much for that spider-sense. Glynda recoiled slightly at the noise, but quickly determined no actual harm was done. Jaune rubbed his forehead while examining his new shield. It was a stark white color with two narrow metallic crescents forming an arc on the shield, presumably in reference to his last name.
"Hmm…It's light. What is this made out of?" Jaune asked.
"I asked your father the same question. He never answered me. Always gave me some silly line to avoid the question, but the sword is made of the same material," Glynda reminisced nostalgically. Jaune's face fell slightly at the mention of his father. He was reminded about how little he really knew about his parent's personalities. He quickly recovered, more for the sake of his aunt than himself. He didn't want to needlessly concern her with his personal problems.
"Huh. Well whatever it is, why didn't they make the armor out of it too? It's too heavy!" complained Jaune, though he made a good point. Jaune's eyes lit up as he thought of an idea. "Do you think I could take this armor apart?"
"I don't see why not. It's yours now." Answered Glynda, trusting Jaune knew what he was doing. The boy immediately ran to his room with a smile on his face.
He ran back into the living room two minutes later with a cutting-torch, goggles and a concerning smile. Glynda thought that in retrospect, trusting Jaune not to hurt himself might have been a bad idea. Too late now. He grabbed the breastplate and ran outside.
Jaune decided he was a genius. He wasn't going to be able to move in that heavy suit of armor, but if he took certain vital portions of the armor and transplanted them on to a lighter garment, he could maintain some form of mobility while still benefiting from a defensive advantage. Luckily, he had learned a thing or two about clothing design growing up with so many sisters. And welding. His sisters were multi-talented. It might not look so pretty, but it would protect him without turning him into a crowbar.
He had a week before classes started; he figured that was more than enough time to sew a crude shirt to attach the armor pieces to. Jaune figured he'd cut the pieces and let them cool off as he sewed the shirt. Or at least that was the plan until Jaune felt his spider-sense go off.
"Huh, that's strange, that usually only happens when- OH CRAP."
"Yo blondie! You made it into Beacon!" Jaune already knew who it was as he spun around to face a tall girl with long brown hair and amber eyes. She was wearing a pilot's uniform under her signature aviator hat and leather jacket even though she was off-duty. Jaune would swear she sleeps in it too.
"Hey, Jean. Uh, what are you doing here?" Jaune managed to squeak as his sister pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.
"Here to celebrate with you, stupid!" she replied as she punched him in the arm. Jaune winced as he could no longer feel anything in said arm.
"So where's the party?" asked Jean, looking around.
"Party?" Jaune replied, confused. A state Jaune found himself in more and more these days.
"You haven't planned one yet? Awesome! That means I get to do it!" Jean fist-pumped.
"Oh-nononono! Remember my 12th birthday?"
"But you have to admit, pin the tail on the donkey was three times as awesome in 3D."
"Not when I'm the freakin' donkey!" Jaune yelled back.
"Don't sweat it," replied Jean, "just gimmee your friends' phone numbers and I'll take care of it."
Jaune froze.
"Uh, yeah. Friends." He'd been so absorbed with crime-fighting, he really hadn't had time to make friends. Jean seemed to catch on.
"Y'know what, forget I said anything. What's with the torch?" she asked to change the subject.
"Oh, I'm turning dad's clunky suit of armor into something actually useable. I'm gonna cut off a few pieces and attach them to some cloth." Jaune said excitedly. Jean put a finger to her chin.
"You know what, Jauney? How 'bout you let me handle the armor as my 'congratulations-on-not-failing' present to you." She decided. Jaune stopped to think for a minute. If there was one thing Jean could do besides pilot ships, it was metalworking.
"Well, okay, if that's fine by you. When can I get you the sewn shirt?"
"Won't need it. I have a better idea." She smiled. Jaune raised his eyebrow, but decided as long as she wasn't throwing him a party, he was probably safe.
Jaune grabbed his bags and ran back outside. He stuffed the bags in the locker waiting outside. It was a genius function of the lockers of Beacon that you could enter coordinates to have them sent anywhere in Vale. Ozpin had them sent to the students each year to make transporting weapons through bullhead customs easier. While weapons weren't necessarily prohibited from the transit systems, it was still a big controversial debate.
"Haha, these old things were great! Did I tell you how some of my friends and I decided to cram ourselves in our lockers to sneak out to town during school hours?" Jean smiled
"You didn't even go to Beacon…" remarked Jaune.
"Yeah… rocket propelled school lockers didn't make for such a stealthy escape. Auntie just about killed me afterward." Jean sighed, ignoring Jaune. Jean was always doing crazy things with her friends. Her friends had all attended Beacon, but most of them had dropped out at different points due to their thrill-seeking habits.
"Yeah? Let's not have a repeat performance," answered Jaune as he punched the default button on the locker to send it back to Beacon. The two stepped back to watch it blast off.
"Whelp. I'm gonna start on this new project of mine," said Jean as she grabbed the cutting torch and plugged in a canister of red dust. "It's supposed to be a surprise, so get out of here, kay?" Jaune playfully rolled his eyes at his sister's antics.
"Okay, okay, I'm leaving. Sheesh. The guest room is still open when you're done." He chuckled. Classes were just seven days away. He still had a lot to figure out. Jaune reflected on the parting words that headmaster Ozpin had left him with.
"Now Jaune, this will be tricky. You will have to balance both your studies and your spider-exploits, but I think this will help you. Help you to both train and stay informed on what's happening around the city. There are a lot of powerful people here, Jaune. Some I believe you've already met. No one can know your secret. You are going to have to come up with some sort of faux semblance to avoid suspicion. If it took me only a couple minutes to deduce who you are, other people will get it eventually. Understood? I look forward to seeing if my investment in your future pans out for both our sakes."
Jaune sighed. He had a lot to think about. Getting some sleep would be a good idea.
Cinder stared at the video playing on the scroll held in front of her.
"Who is he?" she demanded.
"They call him Spiderman. And he's a pain in the ass," answered Roman.
"I know that much, you bumbling idiot! I want to know who he is under the mask," replied Cinder sharply. "This bug has been pestering you for the last six months without so much as a weapon? Pathetic." Roman decided it was in his best interests not to irritate her further when she got into one of her tempers.
"Well there is one nice thing about bugs," said Cinder with fire enveloping her hands. "They burn."