Calibre of a Forged Soul - Chapter Three: "Class is IN session"
"RAINBOW-One to Leprechaun: area has been secure. Over."
[Leprechaun copies, RAINBOW-One. Think you can get us into the system?]
Apart from a couple of monitors that had taken a few bullets in the firefight, many of them remained active, each one displaying information that he did not care about and only somewhat understood. He walked up to the monitors, looking around for an access port of some kind.
"Carmine."
Two heads turned in his direction, faces obscured by their completely concealing helmets. The urge to massage his temples entered his mind for a brief, brief moment.
"Carmine B. Help me with the body." The PRISM soldier nodded once and then made his way over, hands wrapping around one side of the recently deceased Operator. "Keep your eyes open A."
Carmine A readied his rifle, and kept the weapon pointed on the sole entrance to the room.
A wince passed beneath his armoured cowl as the Operator's bone-like mask clattered to the ground, revealing a face belonging to someone barely out of their teens. God, the boy couldn't be any younger than the eldest of his sisters; gunned down the moment they had breached to room and found a handgun pointed directly at them.
He couldn't regret what he did, because if he didn't one of the Carmines would have been going home in a body bag. Still, the cadaver was covering half a dozen ports, and it wasn't long before he had fished into one of his armour's many pouches for a small, rectangular device that was slotted into a port a second later.
[Accessing systems now; you might want to get comfortable, RAINBOW-One.]
He glanced at the deceased Faunus once more, and considered running a background check. If there was a family that they belonged to, then they at least deserved to know the fate of their own.
Even if they were a terrorist that had nearly ended his teammate's life.
"Sir?" The voice of the last member of his Strike Team crackled over his comms, "You might want to see this."
"Set up a vid-com; link it to your helmet."
Almost instantly, a window expanded in his vision, taking up roughly a quarter of his sight with the live imagery from the Helm-Cam belonging to [Carmine, C].
For a brief moment, all that existed in his mind was confusion. Confusion gave way to white hot anger, the emotion rearing its head for a few seconds before it faded; replaced by a sensation of a cold, biting displeasure.
Even now, that damned name still followed him.
"Schnee Gunworks, Sir." The emblem of the SDC's weapons development branch filled the camera window. "Rifles, PDWs, handguns; all top of the line. There are guys in PRISM that'd kill for equipment this good."
That much was true: no matter how much he wished to push the Schnee name out of his mind, he would readily admit that they made some extremely good kit.
So how had White Fang gotten a shipment large enough to outfit a battalion?
"Serial numbers?"
"Filed off, Captain." Carmine C turned the weapon over, revealing a scratched, worn down patch of grey that stood out starkly against the gun's porcelain aesthetics. "Checked half a dozen of them already; all filed down to the metal."
So that left the easy method of tracing their supplier down out of the question.
"That's not all that's down here, Sir." The display shifted, "There's also these."
He could physically feel the effort behind his next blink. Why in Hell did White Fang possess equipment from the defunct Merlot, of all places?
[Download's complete, RAINBOW-One. It's best to make your to the LZ for pickup.]
He glanced around the room once more.
"Anything of interest?"
[It'll take a while before we can decrypt it. But we're not expecting much.]
As such were the natures of a Cell based Organisation. Each one was just a single jigsaw piece in the grand scheme of things.
But now they were one jigsaw piece closer. Silver linings - he supposed.
"Alright men, time to get moving." He shouldered his rifle, and made for the exit. "RAINBOW-One and PRISM Team-Alpha; proceeding to Extraction Point Alpha. Out."
After receiving a trio of 'affirmatives', they began to make their way out of the complex. The facility was a hovel outside of the Kingdom's protection, so the Grimm would come a-hunting sooner or later, drawn by the lingering terror in the air left by the deceased former occupants.
PRISM Team-Bravo would have torched the entire place to the ground long before that though. Half an hour, and this base went from [Threat Level: Blue] to [Target: Neutralised]. An hour or two after that and it would be as if the place had never existed.
All in all - he thought with grim amusement - just another day in the life of RAINBOW Operative Regen Glatteis.
…He really needed some leave-time. Vale was looking pretty nice this time of year; nice and far away from Schnee Dust Company and anything to do with it. The urge to groan was there, but he resisted; he had thought it was all behind him, yet a single image the family's emblem was enough to bring him back to that day, seven years ago.
First thing he was doing was requesting it the moment he had been debriefed.
[A Jabberwock.]
He winced, and once more he was thankful that he wasn't speaking to his father in person where he would be hit full force by the infamous 'Pressure Field'.
[A Jabberwock. In the Beacon Initiation.]
Yet despite that, shame and remorse gnawed away at his innards.
[A Jabberwock. In the Beacon Initiation. That you dragged a quarter of your classmates into fighting.]
"…It wasn't that bad…"
Another wince passed through him, definitely the wrong thing to say.
[I've looked at the readouts. I've read the report. I've watched the footage. Three Percent Talos. One lucky hit and you would've been spread all over the ground. All. Over. The. Ground.]
There was concern behind the restrained tone of his father's voice, he knew. There was no inflection; no rising, or lowering, or anything. But just like how there was concern being shackled away, so to was anger. The latter outweighed the former though; he was the only thing his father was concerned about, and there were half a dozen reasons behind fury. He had seen what followed - and sometimes, been on the receiving end of - when the annoyance stopped being kept internal.
His father was looking to go on a warpath; all the man needed now was the right target.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
"It was Ozpin's fault."
So he threw the most probable person in a position of power responsible for the entire mess under the bus.
Call it cowardice, but he was never in the most stable frame of minds whenever he had to face his dad's wrath.
[Oh I know.] Aaaaaand there goes his lifeline. [The man was surprisingly forthcoming with his 'orders'. I'll still be having some proper words with the wonderful wizard of Beacon in the near future, but it's nice that he was upfront about everything.]
An expectant silence stretched out, the I-CORE Heart rumbling lowly in his chest.
"…I'm sorry." He leant on his room's windowsill, looking out and over the morning Vale city skyline. "I'm sorry for worrying you, but I'm not sorry for intervening. There is a lot of 'what ifs': What if the Grimm found some other team? What if Air support was delayed? What if the Class-Three stirred up more Grimm and downward spiralled the entire initiation? I'm training to be a Hunter; I want to be a Hunter. If I stood back and let it run rampart…then anything could have happened. I…I didn't want anyone else to get hurt. I couldn't let anyone else get hurt."
The silence stretched on, an awkward moment as he knew his father was coming to an ultimatum.
[I…I know.] The sheer tiredness in his father's voice hurt more than the anger, and once more he couldn't understand why. [And that's what irritates me.]
His father wasn't happy, not by a long shot. But at least he understood; he hoped.
[Although if the next thing I hear from Beacon is that you got into an arm wrestling match with a Tyrannovrn, I'll recalibrate your taste simulators into 'everything tastes like Blackburn's cooking' for a month. Again.]
The processing mechanism that passed for his stomach roiled at the thought.
"Would it help if I mention I'd win? Tyrannovrn have underdeveloped arms."
[Smartarse.] There was shuffling in the background, and he was sure his father had just stood up from his office chair. [Anyway, got to go. Lot in the Labs have forwarded a tentative list of names-slash-designations for the Giant Armours, and I have to explain why we're not going to give them designations such as 'Waggleton' or 'Tallylicker' or whatever else is on the list.]
His eyes lit up; there's a story here somewhere.
"Oh?"
[Atlas Branch received a 'generous' donation from the Schnee Dust Company. A dozen Atlesian Knight-Two-Fifty 'Giant Armours'; we're getting half of them.] The faint hint of disgust in his father's tone made him smile. [Lot in the Labs have been ecstatic, and have been pretty much brainstorming what they want to do. After the transfer, of course.]
His ichor ran cold.
"…transfer?"
[Oh~hoho yes.] Oh God he could practically hear the lazy smirk as it formed on his father's face. [Council though it was a bit silly that we're all in Mistral and you're in Vale. So everyone here's getting a transfer. They're new labs and everything, all ten minutes away from Beacon by Airship.]
Oh…why. Oh God why.
[Nice change of scenery…budget increases…new projects to develop…and the opportunity to beat some bloody sense into my son's head the next time he does something as monumentally stupid as fighting a Class-Three Grimm on foot. Really couldn't ask for a better job. Anyway, got to go! Bye!]
His father hung up before he could get a word in edgewise, and for a minute or two the only company he had was the droning tone of the disconnected call. Relief and despair warred with each other as he stared at the phone in his hand.
A frown formed, and then he tossed the device onto the bed.
The whole thing was out of his control anyway. Much like his timetable: Two hours of Grimm Studies, followed by a two hour session called General Period separated cleanly in half by an hour lunch, and capping off the day was Combat & Duelling Class - Singles.
All in all, it seemed like a pretty good day: Sun was shining, sky was clear, classes didn't start for another hour or so, and family talk aside he was starting to look on the bright side of life.
-FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!-
The loud, shrill - but mostly loud - ear piercing sound of a blown whistle caused him to flinch.
What the hell was whoever-lived-next-door thinking? Blowing whistles at eight in the morning?
Ah well. It wasn't all that important. Besides, he was already up and dressed, clad in Beacon's Academy uniform. White dress shirt, red tie, black trousers, and capped off with a black blazer with a gold lining. The blue vest he did without though; thing was an eyesore.
-FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!-
Really, it was a good thing he was up and ready to leave long before whoever was whistling was…well, whistling. Whoever was on the receiving end of that noise was most certainly not going to be happy.
He swiped the messenger bag off from where it hung over his desk chair, and made his way out of the room.
That - he smiled to himself - was another distinct advantage to being what he was: he got his own borderline apartment to himself. Each 'room' contained a kitchenette and sitting area for the entire team that lived in them, and then split off into a shared bathroom, as well as any number of personal bedrooms depending on the gender balance of the given teams. Teams composed of entirely one gender got one big sleeping area-slash-room, those with two of each had two rooms to be shared, and an odd count just simply had four smaller personal rooms for each student.
His was of the latter variety, and he kept the three other unused rooms free in case there was a disagreement in a team and they needed a place to slink off for the night.
The Scroll in his grip span as it went airborne, before he snatched it out of the air and was activated as he swiped a pear out of the fruit bowl. He didn't know how long the team he was looking for would turn up, so he could do with something to whittle away the time with.
Student Accommodation itself was split into four buildings; one for each year, with each one possessing a single, large communal area. There were seating areas all over the place, one wall was pretty much made out of television screens with games consoles beneath them, another corner of the room contained a few of the larger varieties of musical instruments, and another led outside to what was no doubt a very large clearing-slash-park and probably a few open training areas.
He took a seat, bit into the pear, and activated the Scroll. The device blinked to life, booting up in seconds and displaying a small desktop half covered in shortcuts. He tapped the icon labelled PI_Team_Schedules, and focused on the Team listed as his 'Day One' team.
VLAT. Team Violet: Velvet Scarlatina, Leopold Perrault-Argent, Akane Fukui, and Thwickett Marche. The profiles he had been given were absolutely barebones - something he didn't argue against, privacy and confidentiality and all that. Still, what didn't stand out about the team weren't their skills, or their weapons, or their histories.
No, what made them stand out was that Team Violet was an all Faunus Team: a Rabbit, a Cat, a Fox, and a Hare, all on one team - and all unfortunately - one big target.
He could see it now. It wasn't a matter of 'if', but of 'when' Team Violet was the first target of discrimination. It wouldn't be too farfetched of him to estimate who would be the first victim: Leopold was the only one he had personal experience with, and he was safe in admitting that the Silver Cat would put any racism towards himself down the moment he used that silver tongue of his.
Thwickett was one of the Faunus that a number of other students - he grimaced at the thought of working with Team Cardinal in the near future - had attempted to browbeat into submission. The Hare Faunus endured the mocking with a practiced patience until they got bored, and each one of the tormentors had ended up suffering a multitude of embarrassing accidents roughly half an hour later.
Then there was Akane, whom he had the easiest time believing in when it came to defending himself. Lark had taunted the Faunus with a thinly veiled jab at Akane's feminine appearance, and ended up flat on his arse after being punched in the face.
But back to the matter at hand, that left Velvet as the most likely and unfortunate target. The girl may be the team's Leader, but everyone was present to witness how nervous she was with being so. Bullies went after what they thought was weakness, and he made a note to keep an eye on Velvet until the first few…examples could be made. Hopefully not by his hands, but…well, 'Hope for the best, prepare for the worst' and all that.
Still…a part of his mind couldn't help but try to find some form of ulterior motive that the Headmaster would have with partnering him up with the all Faunus team first. Was the Headmaster trying to bridge the gap between human and Faunus with him as the 'bridge'? Or maybe Ozpin thought that he'd have a better chance maintaining bonds with others that were hated due to being different?
The urge to smack the back of his head like a misbehaving computer was there. Here he was, trying to find motive where there may not even be one.
"Well if it isn't a surprise to see you here Tali," four sets of footsteps accompany the voice as their owners approached, "Thought you ended up in the med-wing after rumours popped up of you wrestling with some big, nasty Grimm yesterday."
Leopold walked into view, feline ears twitching as the ever-present chevalier hat hung from the Faunus' neck by a cord.
"You sound surprised."
"Believe me, I am," Leopold smiled, even as he half-lidded his eyes at the frank admission, "Was more surprised at the message we got just before dinner last night though. You really without a team?"
Right, it was time for Phase Two.
"Yup. There were…how many? Fifty three initiates? Only forty-eight were going to get in, and Forty-One of us got to the pieces. That's ten teams of four, plus one spare." He gestured vaguely to himself, "I picked up a piece, but I ran into a Grimm instead of a teammate and no-one picked up the copy of the one I grabbed. And I don't think Ozpin would've kicked me out after I actually accomplished what we were supposed to do."
The Hare Faunus - Thwickett - blinked in confusion.
"Forty-eight?"
"Chess Pieces: Pawn, Rook, Bishop, Knight, Queen, and King. That's six. Double that for White and Black makes twelve. One piece each for a team of four puts it at forty-eight."
"Ahh, cool. Thwickett; Thwickett Marche." He shook hands with his classmate, and idly noted that the Faunus was just vaguely rushing through the gesture. "So which one did you pick up?"
At this point he was actually rather glad he had actually picked up a piece.
"White Pawn."
In hindsight, a Pawn was so terribly fitting, it wasn't even funny. A pawn was - initially - one of the weakest pieces in the game, something that seemed appropriate given his independent status. Then there was the 'promotions' aspect. He would be working alongside the other teams, assisting them, and learning from each one. If left unchecked and underestimated by a foolish opponent, he could cause quite a bit of havoc.
"Fitting." The Fox Faunus caught him by surprise whe he had spoken. Had the Faunus used the same reasoning he did? "Akane Fukui."
He bowed his head in acknowledgement, noting the crisp and concise tone that Akane had used. Poor relations with Human, perhaps? If that was true, then at least Akane was civil in a public area.
He smiled, and then turned to the final, unintroduced, and most important member of Team Violet.
"Nice to meet you. I'm -"
"The Boss."
For a couple of seconds, there was silence between them: three unimpressed glares pointed at one smiling in unabashed amusement whilst the last was steadily going redder and redder in the face.
"It's rude to interrupt, Leo."
Leopold - in his defence - did look somewhat, probably, most likely embarrassed. Not to the point of a heartfelt apology, but he reckoned that it just wasn't in his nature to hand them out at every occasion.
"Velvet is the boss, so the boss is the Boss and nothing less. Akane's still Akane because he's a redhead and I'm still at a loss with that, and Thwick's Tick-Tock."
He couldn't help it; he turned an inquisitive look towards the Hare, who was rather awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
"It…makes sense in context."
"Like everything in life, then." He flicked his Scroll into the air once more, the device compacting as he caught it. "Now that we've all been acquainted, guess it's time to get a move on. First lecture's with a…Professor Peter Port."
The five of them collected whatever objects they had left at rest, and then collectively made their way towards the Academy Building itself.
He had been given a profile on Professor Port, but he found himself wondering just what kind of man he was.
Professor Port was - without a doubt - a bombastic man.
"Monsters! Deeeemons! Prowlers of the Night!"
Loud. Boisterous. Hammy, even.
"Yes, the Creatures of Grimm have many names! But I merely refer to them as prey! Ha-ha!"
Idly, he wondered if the man had experience as a Thespian Actor.
The rest of the class had a pretty even split between two thoughts about the Professor: 'Still take him seriously with only a tiny bit of confusion', or 'Ignore the loud, red, moustachioed man'. Some students looked ready to take notes, although of what, he hadn't the foggiest. The first week was generally spent letting the students get accustomed to their new surroundings, and there wasn't anything…noteworthy about Port's introduction-to-Beacon-try-not-to-get-killed-now-when-I-was-your-age recounted tales.
Except for that wink the Professor gave Yang. He would have killed to have a recording of it.
As discreetly as he could, he spared a glance at the other students in the room. Ruby looked like she was about to fall asleep; poor girl was probably still drained from the Initiation. Jaune as in a fairly similar situation to Ruby, but he was making a valiant effort to remain interested. Nora seemed to float off into her own world every now and then,
Both Velvet and Thwickett were both poised to being taking notes, should any notes worth taking arise. The difference though was that Velvet seemed to have that I'm-not-quite-sure-if-I've-picked-the-right-career-choice nervous smile, and Thwickett was tapping his pen against paper, not so much annoyed at his lack of note, but just seeming like a fast acting, always-late person in general. Akane was the epitome of calm, eyes closed yet still writing something down in Vacuese on his paper, doodling, even; if it was possible to 'doodle' a language.
Leopold was…well…
He leant sideways, a scant few centimetres away from the Faunus' ears.
"Now's not the time for a nap, Cat."
The single flick of his ears that the Faunus gave in response to his hushed whisper was all he needed to know that despite being face down on the desk, Leopold was awake and alert. A hand slipped out from its current task as a pillow, and a single finger tapped the Scroll that the Faunus had prepared before taking a - literal - cat nap.
A red circle was quite clearly visible on the Scroll interface.
He frowned, even as Leopold's shoulders shook minutely in obvious amusement. Why hadn't he thought of recording these lectures?
"So! Whom amongst you believes themselves to be the embodiment of these traits?!"
Almost immediately, Weiss rocketed up from her seat, hand straight up and indignation in her eyes.
"I do, Sir!"
"Well then! Let's find out!"
The Professor chortled as he pulled a cloth from a table. Something that proved to be most definitely not a table but a cage containing a live Boarbatusk.
That cloth had to be Dust lined to the point that it was made of the stuff, if the Grimm had just sat their quiet despite being surrounded by Aura users.
"Step forward! And face your opponent!"
It was here that he decided that Professor Port was also extremely and positively insane.
"Well…" Leopold started up just as they left the class, "…that was most certainly…unique."
That…was definitely one way to put it. After initially balking at how Professor Port had put his students at risk, it had only taken a couple of seconds to see the method behind the madness; or at the very least, the reasoning. The Boarbatusk was an adolescent, for one: fully matured members of its species didn't have a belly as unarmoured as that one. Then there was the fact that the Boarbatusk's…tusk points were blunted down to practically smooth nubs.
There was also the fact that should Weiss have failed, there was a large, experienced Hunter that could have probably bodily wrestle the thing to the ground and snap its neck with his bare hands.
The Schnee heiress had been disarmed during the skirmish - distracted by her Leader's cheering, of all things. Although in the heiress' defence, Ruby was being a little distracting. Still, she had emerged victorious in the end, was congratulated by Professor Port, and then stormed out of the lecture theatre the moment he had dismissed the class.
He winced. Problems were brewing on the horizon for Team Ruby.
"Still…who have we got now?"
Thwickett simply pointed at the door they were currently walking past, one that a couple other students had very nearly walked into before realising they were one room off.
He read the name off the plaque transfixed to a door a few feet away from the lecture hall's own.
[Cheshire. Chester. Student Support Office.]
"Hopefully the next one will be…more normal."
Thwickett sounded hopeful, and he couldn't quite stop the smile that formed when that hopeful look completely collapsed as they entered the next lecture theatre.
Oh he was a horrible person, and then he entered the room and realised why Thwickett's hopeful look had collapsed in despair.
Wall Scrolls. Wall Scrolls everywhere. From Vale comic book heroes and villains, to Vacuese Anime and Manga, to Atlesian Theatrical Plays, to Mistrian masonry and landscapes, three quarters of the lecture hall was covered in imagery from all over Remnant.
The only surfaces in the room not covered was the back wall - which admittedly, no one would be looking at - the chalkboard up front, and the door next to it that had the exact same name plaque on it as the one outside.
He blinked, then rubbed his eyes to make sure that no, he wasn't imagining the words written in a definitely cartoony art-style.
[Professor Cheshire says: Hide & Seek!]
Many a student took one look at the single message scrawled out on the blackboard, dismissed it, and set about finding seats for their teams. A few had even noticed something they liked hanging from the walls, and began to strike up conversations.
Five minutes passed, and his classmates were becoming confused.
Ten minutes passed, and they were openly questioning the situation.
He wondered. If fifteen minutes went by, weren't they free to go?
"Maybe…" Velvet looked about the lecture hall, looking for something out of the ordinary other than the single message on the chalkboard and numerous pop culture Wall Scrolls dotted about. "…Maybe he's not here?"
"I am not so sure. We would have been given notice if a Professor was not able to arrive, for whatever reason."
A test, maybe? Why else wouldn't he be here -
Something clicked. He glanced back at the message written on the - not literal - wall.
Hide and Seek.
A laugh bubbled in his stomach as a quote came to mind. Greetings Professor Cheshire. Shall we play a game? He didn't think that they were going to 'win' by not playing - but he had a very nifty method of cheating at this very game in particular.
:: Semblance: Activate. ::
The world exploded into colours beneath closed eyelids.
There. A rich, purple form took shape. Adult; Male. Cat ears and Tail; A Faunus. They stood four feet to the left of the tutor's desk. The kaleidoscope of colours faded into black as he willed his Semblance away, and he allowed three seconds to pass before opening his eyes; gaze focused exactly where the mystery Faunus should have been stood.
He frowned.
Nothing. Nothing except a poster of a blank white silhouette - a life sized depiction of a character he recognised to be a god-like figure from a three-or-four year old Vacuese Manga.
He blinked, and then slumped with a sigh. Perhaps Professor Polendina was right. Maybe introducing Penny to Vacuese Popular Culture was a bad idea.
Unless…
"Umm…Talos?" Velvet was the first to notice what he was doing, and paused in her questions for a brief second, "What…what are you doing?"
"Nothing important, Boss." A smile pulled at his lips when she turned positively crimson. "Just going to test out a theory."
With one final fold, he held his creation aloft, and set about to looking it over for imperfections.
"With a paper aeroplane?"
He brushed off Akane's question, more preoccupied with aiming said aeroplane. Too fast and no one would see it, too slow and it might not even get to where he wanted it to go.
"It'll make sense in a couple of seconds."
And with that, he released the plane.
Every single pair of eyes was locked onto the paper plane, almost as if they were mesmerised as it lazily glided through the air. It dipped and rose, yet remained steadfast on its flight course.
And then it froze; hanging in mid-air three feet away from his poster-slash-target as if time itself had stopped.
Students gasped, some in surprise, others in incomprehension.
Then the eyes opened. A gaze of Shocking Pink appeared directly in front of the poster, almost as if it had suddenly came to life.
This time everyone reacted, even he had jumped in his seat.
"Twelve minutes, eighteen seconds." A mouth materialised as the amused tone filled the air, grin wide and toothy as the eyes twinkled in merriment. "This is the first time I have never gone undiscovered for the full fourteen minutes, fifty-nine seconds."
The teacher materialised in full, deep purple suit - playing card house themed, he noted - matching their hair as a long, feline tail swayed back and forth.
"If I were Professor Goodwitch, I would be chewing you all out about how I went completely undetected for the better part of ten minutes," the Professor span the chair on one of its legs, timing his fall so that he ended up seated with his legs kicked up on the table. That either took a lot of luck, or some serious skill, "But I'm not Goodwitch. Instead I'll congratulate Mister Vulcan on breaking a record. Good job."
He…didn't quite know what to say to that.
"Thank…you?"
"You're welcome. Now then, introductions." He bowed in his seat. Somehow. The Professor somehow bowed in his seat with his feet kicked up on his desk and chair tilting so far back that it was defying the laws of gravity. "My name is Professor Chester Cheshire. Do not call me 'Professor' though; 'Chester', 'Cheshire', or 'Chesh' will do. Anything else will be completely ignored. As for what I do? I'm Beacon's Student Support Officer and the Professor overseeing these General Periods."
The Professor gestured around, both the them and the room in general.
"Now with General Periods, this will be the only one you have to attend. After this, you can pretty much do what you want in the General Periods you have throughout the weeks. Why be sat in a room wishing you could go to the library for report research when you could be in the library looking for report research? As long as the Team Leader sends me a quick message over their Scrolls telling me what they will be doing, I won't be all that fussed."
All of a sudden, the casual seated Professor was gone. Where there was one a leaning back, relaxed Faunus was now someone sat rigidly in his chair, looking at each and every one of them over tented hands.
"Now then, as for why I'm really here," Cheshire's gaze hardened as his smile became a thin line, "I am your Student. Support. Officer. No doubt many of you have wanted autonomy in your lives for a long while. But I know of horror stories where students are thrown into the metaphorical deep end, and end up panicking. Not knowing what to do. What I say will probably go in one ear and out the other, but I am here. You have a problem? You come and talk to me. Trouble in Paradise? You come and talk to me. Schoolwork got you down? You come and talk to me. Team Problems? You…well, you get the idea."
An air of solemnity settled around the room, and he noted that everyone present was quiet.
And then it was gone, the Professor back in his relaxed, gravity defying slouch.
"But enough about that. I'm sure you lot have tonnes of work to do," a few snickers filled the room, and Cheshire's grin widened, "No doubt Peter bored you half to death - or half of you to death - with his 'Captured the Beowolf' tale. Really, the man loves his to exposé his acts of bravery and skills a little too much."
The Professor blinked, looking all the world like he had just remembered something important.
"Oh! Also, before I forget - because I know I will: Mister Vulcan? Miss Belladonna? Mister Arc? I'd like to see each of you after classes; preferably in that order."
They looked at one another, confusion in both Blake's and Jaune's gazes - and probably his own.
He shrugged, and then went back to doing…well, nothing. Well, almost nothing, because in his vision, a single profile flickered into view; seen only by him and displaying the provided profile of one Cheshire, Chester.
A single emblem filled his vision, and almost impeccably, his eyes narrowed.
Just why did they have one of their Operatives here, in Beacon?
The General Period had gone by in a flash. An hour of students doing…more or less nothing soon became the hour lunch break, and that soon became the last half of their only required attendance in this hall. As the majority of the students made to leave, he knew half of them would not be coming back. Experience taught him so. The three students he wanted to see had stayed behind and he pushed himself out of his chair.
"You two may want to get comfortable." He gestured to the door behind him, "We'll be keeping this in my office; confidentiality and all that."
Miss Belladonna and Mister Arc nodded, and he smiled at the two before holding said door open for Mister Vulcan. In absolutely no time at all, the two of them were seated at his 'desk' desk.
"You wanted to see me Chester?"
He smiled; a student actually remembered his introductory request, and it was the one who found him hiding in plain sight!
"It's nothing serious Talos, I just wanted to…hmm…satiate my curiosity, is all." Talos blinked; a slow, deliberate blink that made him feel as if he had said something stupid. Oh, he had to remember to do that to someone else in the future. Maybe Glynda? It was always so fun riling her up. "Not every day I get to see someone that only existed in Science Fiction stories in the flesh, so to speak."
His smile widened when Talos looked completely unimpressed.
"I'm pretty sure there's an 'abuse of power' thing here somewhere."
"Most likely." His smile widened as he clasped his hands together. "What's the point in being in a position of power if you can't abuse it every now and then?"
"Not quite the advice I expected from a Student Support Officer." Ahh, he never got tired of bone dry, teenage exasperation. "Much less a RAINBOW Operative."
"You're…"
He paused, half for his own amusement and half to collect his thoughts.
"…remarkably, well informed; although it's former RAINBOW, for future reference."
"No such thing as a former RAINBOW." Talos looked entirely unconcerned, even as the teen fiddled with his headphone-like hearing apparatus. "You're either active, or on indefinite leave."
He couldn't help it. A single, amused bark of a laugh escaped him.
"Only RAINBOW Operatives know that little in-joke." He wracked his mind for any Operative that he could picture interacting with Talos. "Who'd you hear it from? Mason? Gelato? Glatteis? Potter?"
"Operative Haeyhae. He'd mention it every now and then when he was teaching me how to hold a gun." The teen shrugged. "I could download all the data in the world off the internet, but nothing beats proper experience and tutelage."
It was nowhere near a jaw drop, but his lips did part ever-so-slightly in astonished disbelief.
RAINBOW Operative Haeyhae. Valkoinen Haeyhae. The kid had firearm instruction from RAINBOW's White Death. Dear lord, Spectrum wasn't half-arsing with anything, were they?
"It was only a couple of lessons. He was a busy man, and I don't think he was all that fond of me when I stated mixing Gun-Kata into my repertoire."
That…that sounded like Haeyhae alright. The man was a miracle worker with a gun, but the moment someone went against his whole 'soldier-sniper' mentality and…well, butting heads would be putting it lightly.
"Still…can't quite believe you got lessons from the White Death."
In response, Talos just gestured to himself with a vague point.
"Multibillion Lien investment and pinnacle of Remnant's technology. 'Best of the Best, or none at all' the Lot in the Labs would say."
He laughed, clapping once as he did so.
"Indeed. Indeed and evidently." He nodded, curiosity far from satisfied. "Now then, I shan't keep you any longer. No doubt you're itching to get to combat class and see how you stack up against your classmates. Send Miss Belladonna in when you leave, would you?"
The teen nodded once, and made his way over to the classroom exit. He deliberately waited until the teen had grasped the door's ornate handle before speaking up.
"Oh, and Talos?" The teen looked over his shoulder, orange eye glowing with attention. "I know you know, but all the teachers hear at Beacon are behind the Persona Initiative; you need anything or anyone to talk to, my door is always open."
The teen paused for a second, looked thoughtful, and then nodded.
"I'll keep that in mind, Chester."
Talos then disappeared from view, leaving the doorway open and unoccupied for no more than a few seconds. Plenty of time for him to fish out the couple of folders he would need before Miss Belladonna closed the door behind her.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?"
The young woman's stoic mask was impressive, but the distress behind it was all but visible to him. She looked cornered; on edge. Not to the point where she would be jumping at shadows or loud noises, but a subtle weariness directed towards everything that surrounded her.
This…this was going to be a delicate case. He directed an amicable smile towards the Faunus-in-hiding, and was relieved to see a trace amount of apprehension leave the young woman's shoulders. As cynical as it was to admit, he was near-absolutely sure that he would not have gotten the same reaction out of Miss Belladonna if he were human.
He gestured to the seat in front of him, using the act to cover brush a couple of papers that had come loose back into their folder. The blood-red, snarling visage of a monstrous beast was most likely the last thing she wanted to see.
Baby steps - he thought to himself. That bombshell could wait for another day.
"Yes, Miss Belladonna. Please, take a seat."
He licked his lips, glancing at the smiling - God, he wondered if the teacher ever stopped that - teacher sat at the desk. Talos didn't seem all that bothered when he left the Student Support Officer's office, but Blake looked a little…shaken? Jumpy? She was definitely distracted, given how she flinched when he had asked if anything was wrong.
"You…err…wanted to see me, Professor?"
Professor Cheshire just waved him off.
"First off: none of that 'Professor' crap. You're all young adults now Jaune - can I call you Jaune? Yes? Excellent. Now where was I? Oh yes, you're all young adults, and I'll be treating you all with the respect young adults deserve. Naturally, I request the same courtesy; just 'Chester' or even 'Chesh' will do." The Faunus teacher blinked once, and then gestured to the seat he was stood next to. "Please, take a seat."
The chair creaked as he seated himself, and that horrible nervousness in his stomach started to form.
Professor Cheshire pushed a folder forwards, smile never leaving as he gulped. [Arc, Jaune - Student Application] was printed on the front.
"Second, I have to congratulate you." There…there was something in the Tutor's gaze. "These are some of the best forgeries I have ever seen in my life, and trust me Jaune; I've seen a lot of fakes."
Forgeries. Fakes. They knew. They knew and of course they knew it wasBeaconandheshould'veknownbet-
"Easy Jaune…easy…" The chair was digging into his back, and he became dimly aware of the warm…something that had been pressed into his hands. "Now you see why I have the seat here for students. A fair number have had to go to the Nurse's office after panicking and falling over incorrectly."
The world swam back into view. He winced when it registered that the chair was uncomfortable because both he and it had nearly tumbled backwards; only kept upright by the Professor's grip. The chair was pushed forwards, and he juggled the hot mug - he didn't want to spill the-
He blinked, panic forgotten for but a second as he realised what was inside the mug.
"…Hot chocolate?"
"Blame my fiancée," Professor Cheshire adopted an extremely exaggerated frown as he spoke, "I swear if it was physically possible all she would eat and drink are sweets and sweet beverages."
He couldn't help himself - or maybe the nerves had finally gotten to him; either way, a single laugh bubbled up and out of him.
Then reality came crashing back down, and he had to physically stop himself from dropping the mug.
"So…" He swallowed thickly, recapturing the attention of the Professor, "…what happens now?"
Cheshire blinked at him; a slow, deliberate motion that made him think he had asked the wrong question.
"Nothing." A hand went up, palm facing him and stalling his sputtering. "Answer me this: Why are you still 'here' here, if you now know that we know these are fakes? Believe me Jaune, if we didn't want you here, you wouldn't have even gotten on the airship into Beacon, much less end up the leader of your own team and sit down for your first class."
That…that made a startling amount of sense.
"Now the reason why I say these are the best Fakes I have ever seen is because they not. Here for example: 'Received initial swordsmanship lessons from Huntsman Baudricourt'. I know the man is a close friend of the Arc family, as I also know that the man had a hand in training your elder sisters. I went to him, and he did confirm that he did give you lessons on how to wield a sword. No more than a dozen couple-hour sessions. Over the course of five years."
A wry smile crossed the Professor's features, and he could feel his face burning even as his stomach dropped.
"There are plenty more of these stretched truths throughout the application. Not outright lies or - heaven forbid - complete bullshit. You're just…shall we say, not up to what your papers say you should be; to the point that I could tell that these were not quite the whole truth. Even then, it took me a month of digging; trying to find out what was truly true and what was an exaggeration."
"So…" he slumped in the chair, and idly took a sip from the mug. A part of him shouted that he was just stalling. "…that's it. I'm just a talentless rookie no-"
A Scroll was pushed in front of him, and surprise shot through his mind when he realised it was footage of the Initiation.
"A 'talentless rookie' as you put it, wouldn't be able to deflect a Deathstalker claw with nothing but a kite shield. A 'talentless Rookie' wouldn't be able to keep up with Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, or Lie Ren. A 'talentless rookie'…" He couldn't find it in himself to look away from the footage. "…Doesn't charge into battle against a Class-Three Grimm and come out of it alive, Jaune."
"You are talented, Jaune. You are capable. The initiation proved that. People have argued that you've 'cheated the system' - but…" The Professor's feline ears twitched as he shrugged, "…everyone has at some point, and I can find far more dirty laundry and closeted skeletons on other people that far outstrip your little stretching of the truth."
He…he wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to hear that, and for the first time he had seen, Professor Cheshire's face was devoid of a smile or an exaggerated fake frown.
"Make no mistake though, Jaune. This isn't a free pass." The Professor leant forwards, and he sank further back into his chair. "Your attendance at Beacon has simply become 'Conditional'."
"Con…Conditional?"
The Professor nodded, pushing forward a second - open - folder forward.
"Twice a week I run an after class 'club' - if you will - for any student that wishes to attend. It's not quite a support group, but first-through-fourth year students attend; whether it is for training, team advice, or just to socialise. Additionally, you will be required to be present at the weekend training sessions I am in charge of for the first two terms of this year. Your attendance is non-negotiable for the former until I deem it so, and I shouldn't have to specify for the latter. Am I perfectly clear, Jaune?"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"You're fortunate, in your attempts to be careful, Jaune." He didn't feel all that fortunate, if he were honest. "You might not be at the level you stated you were on your paperwork, but Beacon is a military institute. Provided you learn and improve…well, come four years' time and you will be at the level your paperwork says you should be, and more."
A second later and the stern expression vanished as if it had never even existed, replaced by a much softer and friendlier look.
"Come alone, or bring your Team - heck, bring every single one of your friends if you think it'll help. I'd recommend the latter, in all honesty. Just give us a warning if you do though, so I can prepare enough snacks and the like. Happened before once - and let me tell you Jaune, Bear Faunus are notoriously hard to calm down if they're hungry and someone else has eaten the last of the food."
The Professor clapped his hands together, and the sharp crack nearly sent him sprawling out of fright.
"But enough about that. I've taken up far too much of your time; Duelling Classes start in five, and I don't want you to face Glynda's ire. Just tell here - word-for-word - that 'it was Chesh's fault' when she asks."
"…One last word of advice, Jaune." He jolted with his hand on the door handle. "Talk to your team. They're there for a reason. I know they will back you. It won't be perfect - it never is, but you've been put in charge of Juniper for a reason. And remember, my door is always open."
"Th-thanks you, Pr…Chester."
"Oh and by the way, you don't have to inform your parents; I've already taken the liberty of doing so." He choked. "Well - actually, you might want to give them a ring. They're not going to chew your head off and then drag you back home - I've made sure of that, but I think it's fair that you get a proper parental scolding."
He swallowed thickly, not trusting himself to speak and very closely not being able to walk without wobbling.
He…he had forgotten about that; Oh God his mom and dad were going to be so mad…
Jaune was the final student to enter the hall, and was the only one not in his combat attire. He looked distracted, and very nearly missed Professor Goodwitch's borderline interrogation as to why he wasn't prepared for C&D. Amazingly enough, it wasn't Jaune's nervous explanation of 'It was Chesh's fault' that caught him by surprise, but the Professor's reaction.
She had shifted from befuddlement, to apoplectic, and finally to resigned, before excusing Jaune and giving him permission to simply sit this lesson out.
That…was the most expression he had ever seen from Professor Goodwitch apart from 'Stoic' and 'Serious'. Now he found himself insanely curious as to just what 'It was Chesh's fault' meant.
She recovered with poise and grace however, and by the time she had walked back to stand in front of them it was as if those emotions had never even existed.
"Welcome - students," Professor Goodwitch stood directly in front of them, looking down from the raised stage she was stood on, "To your first of two Combat & Duelling Classes."
There were two C&D Classes: One for single duels, and one for Team battles. He wondered just how he was going to participate in the second, but disregarded that though near immediately. No doubt Ozpin had already cooked something up for that.
"Your performance in this class is important; both in gauging your own abilities in combat, but also how you compare with your fellow classmates."
He reckoned that everyone present was waiting for this class, which was probably why it was on the first day of the year; the chance to beat your classmates absolutely senseless in a controlled environment. The great screen behind the Professor blinked into life, dying the hall a soft blue as all lights in the room dimmed.
His fingers caressed the twin grips of Gia and Tous. The nerves were getting to him, and only the combined weight of Chrysá Míla managed to calm his I-CORE Heart.
"For the first year, you will face everyone and each other in varying conditions: weather conditions, handicaps, and many more."
Goodwitch adjusted her glasses, tapping the Scroll she held and causing the screen to roulette what he recognised as were pictures of everyone present.
A randomiser.
The first two students were decided with a soft ping: Team Amber's Artorias Ddraig versus Team Junpier's Lie Ren.
"Now then, all students are to retreat to the viewing stands. Mister Ddraig, Mister Lie, prepare yourselves."
Everyone did so, getting comfortable in their seats with their teams as the two remaining in the area warmed themselves up. The duel only beginning when every light in the hall darkened save for the spotlights above the stage.
He watched as the duel played out. Lie Ren was fast, he knew. Fast, but didn't hit all that hard. Any melee he had attempted with his unconventional pistol-bayonets were batted away by his opponent's multi-form weapon: Duel blades that could either attach to one another at the pommels - giving Ddraig an actual Dualblade, or combining into some form of double-edged glaive.
Lie Ren had the advantage at range though, the Machine Pistols doing a much better job at depleting Aura that damaging Grimm. For every chunk of Aura that Ren managed to shave off with a magazine's worth of ammunition, Artorias returned the favour in one or two strikes.
Rather surprisingly, the first dual had ended in a tie. Both of them had managed to knock each other's Aura down into the 'Red Ten Percent' before the match was called. The two had shook hands, mirrored satisfied expressions on their faces as they seated themselves with their teams, and then both groaned in absolute exasperation when they had begun being fussed over and grilled for details by their respective female partners-slash-significant-others.
Everyone laughed at the display, and then things continued. The great screen behind Professor Goodwitch flickered between student profiles at varying speeds, settling on students that would celebrate, groan, or laugh as they were called up for their turn on the podium. Teams cheered for their own when their duels tipped in their favour, and offered condolences when they had slunk back to the audience in defeat.
Yet still he watched. Combat data was useful; insanely so. It would help him formulate how he could work together with the individuals of the teams; taking note of who won and who lost their duels with concealed enthusiasm.
Pyrrha Nikos absolutely pancaked Dove Bronzewing, coming away with a perfect victory without looking like she had broken a sweat. He huffed; that was the Invincible Girl for you. The battle had actually been over so quickly that to call it combat data was generous.
Ruby had gone up against Méihuā Shān, literally running rings around the larger girl and eventually pulling away with a victory for her team. It wasn't so clear cut as Pyrrha's flawless win: Ruby had just over a third of her Aura left when the Vacuese girl's own had dipped into the red, but it was still a victory.
A part of his mind pointed out that it was Ruby's unorthodox weapon that was the contributing factor to her win. He paused for a second, acknowledged it, and stuck that piece of information on a metaphorical footnote alongside the information. He was allowed to have biases and favourites. Besides, Méihuā wielded what looked like - no, he amended, was - a large, sturdy, impossibly large boomerang.
The match between Weiss Schnee and Tiffany Blauadel created something of a stir in-between the 'boring' matches. They were two heiresses of the two largest Dust Corporations in the world, facing off against one another. If he were a more poetic person, he probably would have made some suitably dramatic comparison to a clash between the wills and futures of their names. Even the audience seemed to agree, if their deathly silence was an indicator.
Reality though, was another matter entirely.
The first clues as to what the duel's outcome would be were each heiresses respective weapons.
Weiss wielded a rapier, the ultimate - and perhaps stereotypical - duelling blade; forged for quick attacks at a lengthy distance. It wasn't without its weaknesses however; a rapier had poor cutting power, and was rather unwieldy in close combat if the opponent got past the weapon's deadly tip; leaving the wielder open to more slash-oriented weapons, like a sabre or a broadsword.
Tiffany's weapon was more than just a broadsword. Noblesse Oblige was a Greatsword that put claymores to shame; a massive Zweihänd-Gewehr composed of six feet of Aura compatible alloys and most likely chambered for fifty calibre munitions; the Blauadel heiress had no problem with gripping her blade's Ricasso to avoid any deficiency in close range melee, and any attempt the Schnee heiress made to open up distance was met with a hail of gunfire.
Next, it came to their choice of clothing.
All that Weiss had to protect herself with was her Dust woven combat attire and her own Aura. Any attempt at parrying the massive blade was worthless simply because Noblesse Oblige most likely weighed half of her body weight, so the Schnee heiress either had to avoid all attacks aimed at her or take them head on.
The Blauadel heiress however, was clad in fluted armour from the neck down. With lethal attacks being grounds for disqualification and whatever punishment Professor Goodwitch could come up with, any attacks that did manage to get by her weapon simply glanced off of the armour. Her Aura barely flickering in response to the glancing blows, and any Dust based attack were avoided altogether.
There was an avalanche in this battle, and it wasn't the young woman whose name was 'Snow' in Olde Atlesian.
The battle ended exactly two minutes and thirty-six-seconds in, Weiss conceding after having her Aura knocked down to around twenty percent and given the option to surrender by her opponent. Perhaps it was a result of whatever 'noble training' the two heiresses had gone through: a solid defeat where Weiss had to pick herself up off the floor would have damaged her image and standing far more than accepting the offering.
Weiss left the arena, already receiving honest words of support from both Ruby and Yang. From what he could recall, the Schnee and the Blauadel, weren't on bad terms, but not necessarily good terms either. From a politicking point of view, noting was really lost when Weiss had accepted the surrender option provided to her.
He huffed. Politics weren't his game, but his mind was far more capable than a normal person's, and had a tendency to wander if left unchecked.
Weiss had given the duel her all, but sometimes 'your all' just wasn't good enough. There wasn't any deep, mysterious reason why the Schnee heiress had lost. She simply just had the bad luck to face someone whom literally held every advantage over her own weaknesses.
"Well," Leo's tone - as well as the hand meeting his back - snapped him out of his thoughts, "You're up Tali."
Up? The question must have been evident in his gaze as he looked about, because Thwickett was pointing towards the great screen opposite them.
- Next Match: [Talos Vulcan] Versus [Citri Aerlight] -
Right. Jaune had been excused, and that pushed the class back into even numbers. He rose in a stretch, joints popping and servomotors inaudibly whirring. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Leader of Team Celeste made her way to the locker rooms.
This - he though as Akane and Thwickett whispered as much information to him as they could about his opponent - is either going to end in joy, or tears.
Next Round - Chapter Four: "Duel like you want to win"