A new chapter, and a comment at the bottom as well. My stories should be undergoing a new update schedule this coming month, and the date for the release of each chapter of this will change as a result. As always, you can rely on the "Next Chapter" date tag at the bottom.

Chapter 11

Yang didn't know what to do with her eyes as the man opposite her stood up. It was stupid, really, and he was just a guy – like any other she'd ever known. And yet the sudden reality of where she was, in a private booth in a strip club, wouldn't leave her mind and it sent all kinds of delicious and embarrassing sensations through her. She wasn't prepared; heck, she didn't even want this… except that, deep inside, she knew she did.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," he said.

His words drew her eyes to him, and once again she was faced with the same problem. His face was masked and she feared he'd see the embarrassment she felt if she met his eyes. She looked lower, but his shirt was only buttoned up half-way and her eyes trailed down his collarbone towards his chest. Lower wasn't an option, not unless she wanted to talk to his feet… or worse, his ass.

"Just so you know," she said, "I didn't plan or book this in any way, shape or form."

Beneath his mask, she could just about make out his eyes narrowing. "Oh?" he asked. "Are you lost? I don't mean to push, but you wouldn't have been allowed in here without paying for the privilege."

Oh gods, and now he thought she was some kind of randy teen who'd paid to see him take his clothes of. "No, no, no," she rushed, "Nina did this. She dragged me here and pushed me in. She said it was reward for fighting against some people, I swear."

"Nina did…?"

Relief shot through her, especially when it didn't sound like he thought she was lying. One of her boots tapped the floor nervously behind the other as she balanced on one foot. "It was for helping her… well, this person she helps train. She said I looked bothered and thought this could help." She paused when she realised what that sounded like, and quickly added, "She was wrong, though… I'm not the kind of person who would pay for this."

And didn't that sound hypocritical, since he knew full well she'd visited the strip club more than a few times.

Crimson sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but the brief flicker of irritation she saw vanished before she could really pinpoint it. Maybe she'd imagined it entirely. "That sounds like something she would do. I apologise, Clover. Nina is… you could call her something of a trickster."

"Heh… normally I'd be okay with that, but I'm not usually the victim."

"A bit of a trickster yourself?" he asked with a flirtatious smile.

She coughed and looked away as her cheeks darkened. Damn him for that, and damn her body for how it reacted to his easy confidence. "At times," she said, and tried to keep her voice calm and uninterested. "More of a puns girl myself."

"Any good at them?"

She thought so… but suddenly faced with the prospect of testing them on him, she wasn't so sure. What if he didn't think they were funny and she ended up looking like an idiot? Yang shrugged but refrained from actually giving him any. Coward, her mind taunted.

"Well, we're here for the hour," he gestured towards the single, large sofa in the room. The cushions were thick and plush, and a rich pink just a few shades lighter than his hair. Her mind instantly identified it as a loveseat, and that fact didn't make her any more willing to sit on it. "I take it if you didn't come here by choice that you're not looking for a show from me."

A part of her wanted to refute that, but it was a small and hormonal bundle of nerves within an otherwise already humiliated set. She shook her head frantically and sat down, making sure to keep a few cushions, along with a good foot of air between them. Technically I have him for an hour… I could make him do anything. She could… but she wasn't sure she could sit through it all and keep a straight face.

"You look like something is bothering you, Clover. If you don't want me to take my clothes off, maybe you'd like to talk about it?"

Yang groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Is it that obvious?" she asked. "Nina noticed almost straight away too. How easy am I to read?"

Crimson laughed, and although it was directed at her, it didn't feel like he did it at her expense. There was a soft clink of glass before she felt one of her hands pried away and a cool drink pushed into it.

His fingers were soft and warm, but callused too. It felt good… like he would have somehow been too weak if there wasn't some sign of strength there. She buried such stupid thoughts in the alcohol. It was tangy and sweet, but not quite the Strawberry Sunrise she loved. It wasn't too strong though, which was good. She wasn't really in the mood for getting smashed.

"To answer your question," he said, and clinked his glass against hers in a light toast, "You needn't worry. You're not quite that obvious."

"Is this one of your many skills? Can you read women's thoughts and feelings from their face?"

"Not quite. You said that Nina sensed something was wrong and brought you here. I think I said before that I don't only perform adult entertainment. Some people come for advice, comfort or someone to talk with. From there, it wasn't hard to guess something was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't have handed you over to me."

In a way that allowed her to relax, and a soft sigh escaped her as she leaned back into the seat. They weren't mind readers and they didn't know her every thought, he and Nina just put the pieces together in a way that made sense. It was more like they were detectives. "Well you're not wrong," she said, "But I don't think it's anything worth talking about."

"If it bothers you, it might be…"

She had no response to that, since even in her own mind she could freely admit the issue with that idiot bothered her more than she cared to admit. "Do people always open up to you like that?" she asked, "It just feels weird to think they confess things to a… a…" she trailed off, suddenly anxious.

"A stripper?"

"I didn't mean anything by it."

"Call a man what he is," Crimson laughed, "But either way, I prefer the term `Entertainer`. As for secrets… some find it easier to confide in a person they don't know, than those close to them. Sometimes a person's problems indicate weakness, emotional hurt or are just too difficult to share with their friends. Some people choose to visit a psychiatrist… but many don't like the implications such a thing brings. You're not mentally ill… just upset."

That made sense, she supposed. "And you never tell anyone?"

"Who would I tell? I wear this mask for a reason, so it's not like I can tell everyone what I heard here. Even if I could, what use would gossip be when my friends might not even know the person in question?" He grinned and tipped his head towards her. "I could tell a stranger on the street everything I know about a girl called Clover, but it wouldn't mean anything to him. He wouldn't care, either."

In the same way that her team wouldn't care if she started to tell them about a guy she knew called Crimson. Yang nodded and accepted the easy logic there. She had no idea how much a psychiatrist cost, but it was probably easier and cheaper talking to someone like him, especially since the setting was a lot more informal. This small, curtained room with a handsome man, who looked capable of falling out of his clothes at any moment, definitely didn't feel like a cold, clinical and dispassionate doctor's office. Her nerves might have been less frayed if it did!

"I suppose we could talk," she said, after a long pause to think. Even so, and despite his words, she still looked up towards him nervously. "You won't tell anyone, right?"

"You have my word."

"It's… there's this person I know," she began. "He's a friend… or at least I guess he is."

"You guess?"

"He is a friend," she repeated, firmly this time. "He wasn't at first, in fact I couldn't stand him at first… but after getting to know him a bit, I started to think he was pretty okay."

"Pretty okay?" Crimson asked. "Is that a good thing?"

"It's good enough. He doesn't stare at my breasts or make lewd comments, and he's… well honestly, he's pretty shy at Beacon. I wouldn't have even bothered talking to him, but I'd kinda met him before and… well, he's a lot easier to hang around with when he relaxes over a few drinks." She shook her head with a laugh. "It's almost like he's a different person. He becomes the kind of best friend a girl wants, someone who'll listen and offer their opinion but isn't going to turn on you all of a sudden and ask for something you're not willing to give."

"I'm not sure what the problem is," he said, "It sounds like you get on well."

A bitter sensation rose within her, and Yang sighed as she slumped forward. "We did," she said, "before he suddenly decided to give in to these bullies at school."

Crimson opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"It's ridiculous. One moment he's all `oh, it's fine, we'll wait them out` and the next thing I know, he's following around after them and doing everything they say. I can't believe him!"

"Perhaps he doesn't have a choice in the matter. Did you think of that?"

The quick response surprised her, not to mention how easily he'd hit the nail on the head, but she shook her head regardless. "Doesn't matter," she growled. "I mean, yeah, it's obvious they've forced him into something, but he could have come to us if he was in any trouble, y'know? He could have come to me. I'd have helped him out."

"Maybe he didn't want to bother you…"

"Well mission flipping failed… I'm bothered; my sister's bothered and just about everyone who knows him is bothered." She downed the remainder of her drink in one go. The alcohol burned its way down her throat in an almost cathartic manner. She held her glass out for some more and Crimson poured it dutifully. "It just pisses me off," she sighed. "I get that he doesn't want to do it. That's pretty damn obvious from how tortured he looks, but at the same time I can't do a damn thing about it if he won't say something."

"Maybe he'll do something about it himself." Crimson said.

Heh… he was trying, but it was clear Crimson didn't know Jaune. At least that was a comforting thought. "He won't," she said. "He's not like that. Each and every time he's been bullied so far, he just takes it and keeps going. I get that he doesn't want to rise to the bait, and the guy he's against is pretty tough too, but J-" she paused, "John," she amended, "Isn't going to do anything about it."

All these fake names… Clover and now John… it was getting hard to remember. Bandying his name around the club he worked at wasn't going to be a good idea, however. Maybe Crimson didn't know him, but others certainly would.

"You're sure he won't do anything?" Crimson asked, and she thought it might have been her imagination, but he almost sounded hoarse. "It's a bit much to judge someone so quickly, isn't it? Maybe you're underestimating him."

"Maybe," she shrugged, "But his team pretty much thinks the same too. His pa- his study partner came to me to ask for advice, because she has no idea what to do. I mean, she's absolutely besotted with the guy, and even she figures he isn't going to do a thing to help himself. Talk about pathetic."

Crimson leaned back and frowned. One hand came up to rub at his mask, and she guessed he would have been rubbing his forehead if he could reach it. Instead, he gave up and pushed some of his red hair back. "Everyone has their reasons," he said, "I'm not sure what to suggest other than that you remember that. I'm sure John isn't doing this to upset you… or at least, not because he wants to."

Yang shrugged and looked away. It wasn't anything she didn't know, and if she were being honest with herself, she was pretty disappointed by this vaunted `advice` that Crimson was apparently so famous for. If she'd wanted empty platitudes, she could have talked to a mirror.

He seemed to notice, and rose from his seat to walk around the back of the chair. "Relax," he whispered when her shoulders stiffened. As a huntress, she wasn't used to letting someone stand behind her like that, let alone someone she didn't know.

She jumped when his fingers gently touched her hair, and one hand reached up to snag his wrist before he could do anything. "Don't touch the hair," she said automatically, before her cheeks darkened and she glanced away. "I mean… sorry. I'm pretty defensive of my hair."

Crimson laughed and moved his hands closer. He didn't poke or prod, however, but gently rested his hands atop her soft locks. "I can see why," he said. "Your hair is very beautiful, like a meadow spun from gold."

It was a cheesy line, and she knew he'd probably said it to a hundred other people, but that didn't stop the little bubble she felt in her chest. Tentatively, she let go of his wrists and placed her hands in her lap. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"It seems my advice hasn't helped you much," Crimson whispered, "So if you'll let me… I'd like to make up for it."

She felt his hands lean on her head a little more, but his fingers pushed through her hair to rest against her scalp. Slowly at first, but firmly, he began to rub them back and forth. Almost immediately, a satisfied sigh slipped from between her open lips. Her eyes drifted lazily shut, and she leaned back into the seat.

"A head massage is a good way to reduce stress," he said, and with her eyes closed and his hands atop her head, his voice seemed to flow into her suddenly lax body. With each forward motion, her head dipped towards her chest, only to be gently brought back as he rubbed his fingertips across the side of her head. He was careful with her hair, and none of it got tangled in his fingers as he worked his magic. "I've heard it said," he went on, "that it can even help people think, fight illness and sleep better."

She could well believe the last one, since after only a minute or two, she felt like if he let go she would fall forward and hit the ground. "Hmhm…" she mumbled as her eyelashes fluttered. She felt his fingers leave her head, and she almost whined at the loss, only to sigh as his palms pressed against her instead. She felt his fingers come across her forehead, as two on each side massaged the flesh above her eyes. The balls of his hands pressed against the back of her head, and he gently squeezed and kneaded her skin.

"The temples are of particular interest," he whispered, "They're said to have a direct conduit to the soul and our aura, and some claim they're the pressure points closest to our brains."

She felt his thumbs dip down either side of her head, to rub at the small indent on the left and right of her forehead. Her lips parted as she felt her mind dim. All she could feel were his fingers, a strange weightless sensation, and how she had sunk a little lower into the seat. She didn't even resist when his hands clasped her forehead and gently pulled her head back. She leaned with him, to rest her neck on the back of the sofa as his fingertips traced across her eyes, nose and cheeks. He even cupped his hands beneath her neck, and gently rubbed the joint where her jaw and skull met.

She was a puddle of goo before she even realised it. He could have done anything to her right then and there and she wasn't sure she'd have had the energy, nor the desire, to stop him.

And yet he simply continued to massage her. Down to her shoulders, his hands moved, and they gripped and squeezed the flesh there. Her face fell against one of his arms, and her eyes curiously watched his lithe muscles bulge as he worked the knots from her tired and tense body. She'd never had a massage before… at least, other than the little things her dad had done once or twice.

And oh gods, but they'd never felt as good as this… she'd have been worried if they did.

It should have been only a few minutes, but the next thing she knew he was gently shaking her shoulder and whispering her name. "Hm, whasit?"

"It's been an hour, Clover," he said.

That couldn't be right… they'd only just started. Her head buzzed and she could feel even the light breeze against her tingly scalp, while her shoulders felt warm and supple – and even her arms and hands felt somehow softer.

"You fell asleep," Crimson chuckled and helped her to sit up, for to her surprise she realised that her legs had stopped working.

"Asleep?" she repeated dumbly. That just didn't make sense… there was no way she could have fallen asleep in the middle of a strip club. It also just wasn't fair, since she wanted to experience that touch for an hour straight, not sleep through most of it!

"It's not uncommon. Like I said, massage can help a person to rest too. How do you feel?"

Yang blinked but lifted her arm. It felt heavy, but that was just from how relaxed it was. Her fingers worked their way open and closed a few times as she cracked her neck from side to side. It didn't crack, and the bones didn't even make a noise. If she'd been a machine, she would have considered herself newly oiled and cleaned. "I feel good," she whispered, almost surprised, "Better than good… I feel like a million lien!"

He laughed and helped her to stand with his hands on her waist. For some reason she didn't mind that, even though before it would have had her a complete mess. Come to think of it, he had his hands all over me while I was asleep. So this is practically nothing.

A part of her thought she should have been more worried about that, but at that very moment she couldn't not smile – she felt that good.

"Can we do that again sometime?"

It was a disaster. The words slipped from her mouth before she'd even thought them, and she bit down on her lip a second later. What was she talking about? Of course they couldn't do that again, not unless she wanted to pay for the service - and she wasn't that kind of girl.

Crimson smiled but didn't say anything, and she was thankful for that. If he'd offered her a rates card, she wasn't sure what she would have felt, but it would have been humiliating. She didn't want to barter prices with him like he was some… well… what he was. "Think about what I said Clover," he said as she absent-mindedly made her way towards the curtain.

"Huh, what?"

"About your friend," Crimson called after her. "Even if it doesn't make sense to you… I'm sure he has his reasons for what he does."

"Oh, yeah… right." Yang nodded and ducked out of the room, but even as she did, it wasn't Jaune she thought of. It was a man with red hair, and the burning question of if he could make her feel so good like that, what could he do if he'd had access to all of her body.

One thing was for sure… she wouldn't be sleeping easy that night.

/-/

Jaune watched as Yang, or Clover, left the small room, only to let out a sigh himself and push his way out a back door. The mask came off, and the red hair atop his head fell in messy waves as he shook it. The sapphire eyes, however, that last physical reminder of who he truly was, were narrowed into slits of ice.

Nina raised an eyebrow as he entered the changing rooms. She had a cigarette balanced between two fingers, and wore a plunging gown that showed off her figure. The woman took a single quick drag, extinguished what remained, and smiled at him.

He didn't return it, and his hands slammed down onto the table she sat at. "What the hell was that?" he hissed. "Why would you push her in my direction? You could have ruined everything. She knows who I am, Nina. She knows both of my personas!"

If his rage bothered her, she hid it well. A soft laugh escaped her, and her emerald eyes danced with humour. "You worry too much, my dear," she said. "The poor girl needed advice and support. Is that not what you offer?"

"She wanted advice on what to do about me," he snarled. "Do you have any idea how awkward that was? Any idea how difficult!? I had to sit there and listen to her tell me how much I'd hurt her and how much an asshole I am."

"Then consider it an eye-opening experience."

"I'm not joking around here, Nina."

"Am I joking?" the brunette asked with a little laugh. "The girl needed help Jaune… Is she not your friend?"

He wasn't nearly so amused, and it was hard to suppress the urge to flip the table over and attack her. "She's Jaune's friend," he said, "My friend; not Crimson's. Crimson doesn't exist. He's a fake, a mask I wear to do what I have to do. I don't want her - I don't want my friends - anywhere near him."

"You are you," Nina sighed, "No matter how much you seem determined to pretend otherwise. If anything, I'd dare say Crimson is more honest than your pathetic facade."

His hands clenched into fists. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, dear apprentice." Nina said. She rose from her seat and stood opposite him and despite the foot or so he had on her, she was the one that seemed to dominate the empty room. Her fingers touched his chest, delved beneath his shirt and splayed out over the naked flesh, yet neither commented on it. "You've become so desperate to escape what you are that you've forgotten who you are. Jaune White, if you wish to call him that, has become a poor man's replica of yourself."

She was wrong, and that fact sent new waves of anger through him. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "You're wrong. This is who I am."

"This," Nina whispered and cupped his cheeks, "is who you are. This temper, this anger and the indignation you feel are what mark you as yourself. Do you think normal teenagers don't experience this? Do you think they don't become angry?"

"Of course not. I'm not saying they don't."

"Yet you act it." She pushed his cheek away and his head fell to the side. Even so, the red locks atop his head seemed to melt and run into yellow as her Semblance took hold of him. "The Jaune I trained, the Jaune I helped raise, was someone who once laughed in the face of the Malachite sisters when they tried to force him to work at their club. You weren't as strong as you are now, and I recall that were it not for my presence, you would have been beaten black and blue, but that did not stop your defiance."

His jaw ached from her grip, and he worked the muscles there with one hand. "I'll never work for them," he said. "You know that."

"And yet, from what you've told me, you folded rather quickly when these schoolmates of yours enforced the same on you. You've allowed them to run over you, and have bowed to their demands ever since."

He winced and looked away, but her hand snapped out once more to grip his hair and force his face back to her own. "That's different," he said, eyes watering slightly at the grip she had on his hair. "They threatened to tell everyone I was a stripper. They could ruin everything."

"Not quite as fast as you might ruin it yourself."

"That's not-"

"The same?" she asked. "No, it isn't. Theirs is not a certainty and there are those who might not believe them, or others who would stand by you regardless. Your actions, however, will be far more successful in driving away those you claim to care for."

It didn't… it couldn't. His throat felt dry, and as he tried to shake his head, he could feel the fear and uncertainty running through him.

"I sent your little friend to you because I believed seeing the effect you have had on her would help open your eyes."

Yang? All the questions she'd asked, the frustration she'd shown… she had been angry at him, oh so angry, but also there had been some distress hidden beneath the surface. It had never been said, never explicitly stated, but he was a person trained and taught how to notice the little ways a person moved, what their thoughts might be from both what they said, but also what they didn't say.

"Human psychology is easier to understand than one might think," Nina whispered. "Right now she equates your name with frustration, your face with anger. But tempers run hot and that will fade in time. What do you think will happen when it turns to disappointment, and is allowed to continue that way for days, weeks, or even months?"

He knew full well, and that fact had his eyes clenching shut. Yang would move on. She would, perhaps reluctantly, decide that he wasn't worth being her friend. She'd try and help him, maybe listen to his apology, but even if she accepted it, things would never again be quite the same between them. They wouldn't have that casual camaraderie they'd had when they fought Miltia and Melanie. They wouldn't share drinks and discuss the past, easily trusting one another not to tell anyone else. And it wasn't just Yang, was it? There was Pyrrha to think of too, and Ruby, Ren, Nora and the others. They would all be affected.

"Why is it you wanted to become a huntsman?"

He blinked in confusion. Didn't she already know the answer to this? "To make a new life for myself," he repeated, "To help people and become something I could be proud of."

"And do you remember what I said such a life would entail?"

"Sacrifice."

"Indeed," Nina let go of him and sat down atop the table, one leg crossed over the other. "There is much you might be expected to sacrifice in time. It was too much for me… too much sacrifice, but yours can be a different life. Not all circumstances are equal. That said, right now you are faced with one of these choices. Sacrifice your friends and continue to give in to these people in the hopes your secret will remain safe, or sacrifice your comfort and take a risk on what may or may not happen. The choice is yours."

That wasn't fair… the choice was too difficult and he wanted to protect both. "Beacon was supposed to be another chance for me," he said. "It was supposed to be a chance for me to be a normal person. Not… not this."

"You silly boy," Nina laughed and took his hand in hers. She pulled him down to her level and closed her eyes.

He felt her warm lips against his, though they did not move or deepen the sensation in any way. His eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed. For anyone else, it might have meant more, or might have made their blood race. But in a world where such affection could be bought, it was nothing more than an emotional gesture. It was letting someone close, trusting them enough to share such an intimate moment. It felt familial, kind and soft.

She pulled away, and he blinked as she smiled kindly at him. "It still is a chance, you silly fool, but you've taken what you think you need to be to too far an extreme. Jaune White, the huntsman you want to be, need not passively roll over to every little thing that comes his way. Nor does he need to be the polar opposite of Crimson, the person you seem to hate." She took both of his hands in hers and moved them so that he clasped them together. "They are the same person, and if you continue to try and alienate one side of yourself, you'll live an unhappy life, whichever route it takes."

He felt weak and helpless… in a way he hadn't since he'd been a homeless child scooped up off the streets and given a home and a job. "I don't know what to do."

"That's part of growing up. But do you remember my lesson on life?"

"Life is a game," he dutifully repeated, "Those that refuse to play can never win."

"Indeed, Jaune. And remember, `those who do nothing, are destined to lose everything`." And with those final words, she pushed him away and walked out of the door.

Exhaustion took him as he fell into the chair she'd vacated, the warmth from her body a lingering presence both on the plastic seat beneath him and his own lips. Had he really been so determined to be different that he'd hurt other people?

It was a difficult thought.

/-/

The next day of Beacon dawned bright and early, and like the one before he had made his excuses to his team early on and walked to Team CRDL's room. The sleepy faces that greeted him there had forced their bags into his arms and demanded he carry them to the cafeteria for them. They were light enough that he didn't struggle, though after Nina's words it was impossible not to notice how people in the corridors looked at him.

Some rolled their eyes, some smiled in amusement, while others looked his way in mute distress. Whatever their stance, however, and whether they felt sympathy for him or not, each and every one of them looked at him as though they'd known he would give in to the bullies.

That fact hit him harder than he'd thought it would. Was that really how they saw him? Was that really the image he portrayed? Crimson was the master of his domain, experienced, suave and more than willing to put a rowdy client or colleague to task. Though his skills in fighting weren't quite so advanced, he lived or he died on his ability to influence how people saw him… to make people desire him, to stand out and be admired as confident and in control.

And yet, here in Beacon, Jaune couldn't be any further from either of those things. Weak-willed and easily controlled, malleable and pathetic. It reminded him of what Yang had told him at the club, or rather what she'd told Crimson. That he wouldn't stand up for himself, that he took all the abuse and she had no faith he could stop it. That hurt... more than he dared admit.

Not everyone was a power-house of a fighter like Pyrrha, but that didn't mean they were targeted and bullied at every opportunity. What was it he'd said to Yang? "Cardin will get tired when he doesn't get a response. He'll move onto an easier target."

Had he made himself the easiest target in all of Beacon, all in a misguided effort to `fit in`?

When they entered the cafeteria, his eyes scanned for familiar ones, and found them looking his way from across the room. Pyrrha and Ruby looked towards him, and the pain on their faces was clear – more so when Cardin dragged him away and pushed him down into a seat some distance away. It took them out of his line of sight, and they no doubt lost sight of him too. Yang didn't even glance in his direction.

Just another dagger in his chest.

"Go get us some drinks," Cardin pushed Jaune towards the counters, "And be quick about it, I'm thirsty." It was a typical request, and one of the many things the burly teen took advantage of him for. He shook his head but knew better than to argue, even as he poured orange juice into a large jug and placed five glasses onto a tray. At least his bartending experience allowed him to carry that back one handed, the jug held in the other. But what he came back to was no less palatable.

"Ow, let go…" the girl that spoke sported brown hair and brown eyes, along with two bunny ears that poked from the top of her head. One of those was clutched tightly in Cardin's hands as he laughed and jeered.

Jaune's hands shook as he placed the tray down on the table, and had it not been for the laughter, they might have heard the glasses clinking agitatedly together. Racism was common, even in the Oyster, and while Reg had no time or patience for anyone that dared insult his employees, it still didn't stop people from trying.

"They're real," Cardin laughed. "Heh… a real life bunny girl – I bet it's true what they say about them too."

It wasn't. Jaune knew that. Even so, some stereotypes were hard to force your way past, and out of all faunus-kind, rabbit faunus were the most common in the night industry. Dancers, actresses, porn stars… their features removed the need for fake ears, after all.

"Stop it! L-Let go!"

And of course it was no different in the Oyster. There'd been time a plenty where he'd had to comfort a distressed performer who'd had their faunus features pulled and played with. They were more sensitive than most realised, and not something to be considered toys.

More than once… he'd also had the pleasure of personally escorting the bastards who had dared touch his friends like that from the club. And if anyone noticed the few extra kicks he'd delivered on the way, they didn't bother to comment. With an irritated sigh, he stepped forward. "Here you go," he said.

Silence engulfed the cafeteria, and not a single person spoke. The faunus girl yelped, but took her chance to back away as Cardin released her ears. The taller, stronger and now wetter teen turned to face him. A single bit of orange flesh dripped from his hair and fell down unto his breastplate. The rest of it had already formed a puddle around his feet.

There was a hushed whisper from across the room, as chairs scraped against tile and people turned to watch.

"That was a mistake, Jauney boy."

It was… and he knew he'd pay for it, but as he looked at the soaked asshole, he couldn't help but feel the nervous excitement run through him. His lips twisted into a smile and he held his hands up before him in a fighting stance reminiscent of Yang's. "What?" he said, "I thought you were thirsty."

So, I just wanted to address some quick things here. Firstly, for those who didn't like the last chapter... I understand. I'll probably avoid hand-holding canon again in future, though Forever Fall still needs to happen. I forgot that the Jaunedice arc was hated when it came out in RWBY, and was rushed through as a result. My apologies for that. I did want to comment on something one or two said, however, and that is how it "doesn't make sense" or was "impossible" that the rumours against Jaune would have had any effect.

If you didn't like the chapter, that's fine - but some seemed to feel that rumours from CRDL simply "could not" have caused any problem for Jaune, because they're lies (even if they were true). Some even suggested that literally every student could just "go to the oyster and ask Reg", which made me raise an eyebrow. It must have been a nice school you went to where people would take the equivalent of a helicopter ride to a town, look around for a random club, pay to enter - all on the off-chance they can find the boss or that he'd even talk to you - just to verify a rumour they'd heard in school. Really nice and determined people at such a school.

Very few others would do that... and I've seen enough evidence in schools that people won't; that they'll believe the rumours - because rumours and gossip are entertaining and the truth isn't. I usually draw parallels to news stories or real life with my fics, and this is no different. Fake rumours causing distress in bullying are a dime a dozen, and there are kids who commit suicide over things like it, or those who are forced to move schools to try and escape. But, if you think that's only "super-rare" then why don't we look at the US elections? Fake news was everywhere and people did vote on it. You might say "the average person wouldn't believe it", but remember that to be average, there must be above and below averages too - and there's always guys like the one who went with a gun to a fast foot outlet because he believed a news article that Hilary Clinton was running a satanic child-smuggling ring under it.

Compared to that, is it so hard to imagine some might believe this rumour?

Also, there is the risk that they DO go to the club... that they DO visit, they talk to someone - maybe someone who doesn't know to keep Jaune's secret, or that they pay to enter the VIP area themselves and put the dots together when they see Crimson. The risks are huge for Jaune if he says no, whereas the `benefits` are slim. He just avoids having to copy his homework for other people. The payout for so big a risk is small indeed.

I don't mind people not liking it and this isn't aimed at said people. This is my response to those few who said it was "literally impossible". If rumour can determine which way a person votes for the leader of the US, then I don't see how it would be impossible for it to influence perceptions of an unpopular person in school like Jaune. And the above isn't an anti-Trump rant, either. He and Hilary both suffered the effects of silly rumours and fake news that detrimentally affected their campaigns.

Whether it's truth or not really didn't matter to them, nor would it to Jaune... it only matters what people believe, and how easily the information can be verified. Finding and visiting a strip club in a nearby town does not constitute easy. As for those asking who would trust CRDL, well - as always - rumours are like Chinese whispers and rarely does one remember who started it. But even so, why not? No one intervened when Cardin bullied Velvet or Jaune... we always like to imagine bullies are reviled and universally hated in school - but evidence and experience shows they rarely are. Life sucks like that sometimes, but that's how it is.

That's why bullies are often the bad guys in high school anime... because, whether we admit it or not - every one of us was likely bullied at some point in the same way, and we damn well wished someone would have walked up and knocked them out. No one did, of course, and we didn't do it ourselves either because we were afraid.

Afraid like Jaune was here.

Next Chapter: Tuesday 7th February (New Update Schedule)

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