A World of Wild Wild Evolution

by erttheking

Life in Remnant is about to change. Courier number 6 investigates something wrong at the isolated Big Mountain research facility and has his life turned upside down. Inspired by Light at the End by BlindingPhoenix

5. Tear It Up

Chapter 5

Tear It Up

XXXXX

James arrived early for work, an action that he admitted to ED-E was born out of paranoia of wanting to make a good impression, though he would admit it to no one else. At 6:30 AM, after getting dressed and chewing on some smoked Gecko, he had arrived at the classroom Professor Port had described to him. It was a grand lecture hall, at least to James, with carved wooden seats and desks that looked down at where the instructor would stand. He sat down in a chair for a good long while, ED-E floating above his head, and was just wondering if he should do anything to tidy up when a portly man with an impossibly thick mustache walked in the front door.

"Ah, Mr. Walker! Bright and early, I like that!" the man positively bounced towards James, looking as jovial as he sounded. "Excellent, Ozpin told me about your unique circumstances and the surrounding situation. A pleasure to be working you." Port held out his hand and James took it. James soon felt like Port was trying to rip his arm out of his socket as he gave it a very enthusiastic shake. "We're going to be working the students back into school life after the straining events the other day and help them prepare for the upcoming Vytal Festival. We'll be going over the basics for the first half of class, and then the second half will be a sparring session that we'll be moving to a different room for. You just make sure everyone is paying attention and behaving during the first half Purely within teams, that way they focus more on helping each other improve instead of descending into rivalries. Do that for the second half too, but if any students get too tired to continue, or has to be excused for medical reasons, you and I may have to become replacement sparring partners."

"Ozpin did mention the part where I only just got my Aura right?" James said, feeling uneasy. "I've seen what some of the students around here can do, I'm not sure I can keep up. Hell, I've never even been in a fight where I got to utilize it."

Port clasped him on the shoulder, laughing heartily. "Mr. Walker, one of the core tenants of being a teacher is that it's a two-way relationship. We teach them, they teach us, often in ways we could never expect. This is a perfect opportunity to learn from these bright young minds in the best way possible, hands-on experience. Sparing against another with Aura and experience is the perfect way for you to accumulate experience as well. What's more, I was told that you have extensive experience involving non-Aura combat, something that may prove useful. For future reference, do you have experience with melee weapons and unarmed combat?"

"A decent amount, yes," James said. "I prefer to stick to knives if I'm hitting someone with something, but I've been in situations where I found myself using a sword or a pipe. And I've had quite a few people teach me moved for unarmed combat." Thank you, Veronica. Thank you, Ranger Andy. "Though, full disclosure, I'm very much a man who prefers to shoot things from a distance. It's what I'm best at and it's also where there are fewer ways for the other guy to kill me."

"True, but you might find that in Remnant, keeping distance from your enemy isn't as easy as it was where you're from." There was a very nasty feeling in James's stomach, but Port just laughed again. "Mr. Walker, relax! This is a hall of learning! You're just pulling double duty as an aid and a student. Don't worry about the sparing for now, and let's focus on the lesson beforehand." Reaching into a pocket, Port produced a bundle of notes that he handed to James. James rifled through them and saw that they were diagrams and explanations on Aura, Semblance, weapons, and something called Dust. And he was pretty sure the notes weren't on how his furniture needed dusting.

"Dust?" he asked, looking up. "With a capital D? The heck is Dust?"

Port stared at James for what felt like a solid minute. "Well, you really aren't from around here, aren't you? They don't have Dust back where you're from?" James shook his head, feeling stupid again. "Ah. Well then, Dust is a rather basic aspect of life here in Remnant. It's a crystal mined from the ground that is the source of all of our power, but it does more than that. There are countless variants of Dust, many of which are highly effective in weapons. So many useful abilities to use, fire, lightning, ice, earth, gravity, it's invaluable. If you find a weapon that doesn't have Dust bullets, you're in a very backwater part of Remnant."

"Wait, like this?" James asked, producing the White Fang SMG, ejecting the magazine, and handing it to Port. Port took it and held it up to the light, examining the bullets.

"Yes, looks like fire Dust, fairly common stuff," he said, turning it over. "If we ever have students use specialized Dust in bullets, some cheaper Dust simply acts like ordinary gunpowder for those on a budget after all, it's a good place to start. Just deals more damage to the enemy, provided you aren't in a place that's easily set on fire." He cocked his head. "This magazine isn't fully loaded. I don't mean to be rude, but walking around with a magazine that isn't topped off is a bit of a rookie mistake."

"I would normally agree, but in my defense, I have no spare munitions for this thing. I picked it up off of someone who didn't care for me the other day. One of the White Fang guys. They didn't need it anymore." Port stiffened. Unless James was mistaken, he looked uncomfortable. "Something wrong?" James wondered if he shouldn't idly mention the attack that had happened the other day.

"Oh. So that's where you got it," Port said uncertainly. James was confused. What was the matter here? He had taken a gun from the body of someone who had tried to kill him, he wasn't sure why it was a problem. "Well, this is a rather standard 9mm SMG, you see it on the front display of every gun store," he said before James could ask any questions. "We have plenty of spare ammunition here at the school, and a member of staff you have access to it. You could try experimenting with different types of Dust bullets, or stick with unspecialized ones if you want to keep it simple. I wouldn't recommend experimenting in the field." He handed the magazine back to James.

"Gotcha," he said, sliding it into the gun and putting the weapon away. "Question, would it be able to take one of these?" He reached into one of his many pouches and produced one of the 9mm bullets he used for Vance's old SMG. There was a flicker of hope in his heart. If his bullets and Dust bullets were interchangeable, he could keep all of his weapons supplied. These hopes were dashed when Port took one good look at the bullet and shook his head.

"Absolutely not," he said. "I'm not sure if the bullet inside is the same design as what we use, but the casing is completely different. No gun that isn't heavily customized would take that round, and if your other SMG takes those bullets, I wouldn't try to use any Dust rounds in it. It would jam at best, burn your hair off at worst. The backwater areas of Remnant I talked about? That would be the kind of ammunition they used. I'm sorry Mr. Walker." He glanced at the weapons James had slung over his back. "You could possibly find someone to make customized ammunition from scratch if you look in town, but it wouldn't be a cheap venture."

James digested this. Unless only the 9mm was unique and other forms of Dust ammunition would fit in his weapons, which was unlikely, his current weapons wouldn't be getting any fresh munitions aside from when and if he paid out the nose for a custom job. This wasn't the best situation. He had a large stockpile of ammunition, but he could easily be stuck in Remnant for months, years. There was a good chance he would never get back home.

A cold thought hit him. Was there even a way for him to get back home? Ozpin had promised to look into it, but did anyone in this world have the technical knowledge of the Think Tank? Was he stuck here forever while the Legion was finally rid of him for good? He bit his tongue, telling himself to focus on the situation. He had come into a large sum of money, he would pay for the custom rounds, and he would look into getting new weapons if the ammo situation became dire. He already had one anyway. For the moment it would be smart to stick with what he knew, but he would have to be flexible if he had to scavenge new weapons. It wouldn't be the first time he did this. Sometimes he still missed All-American.

"I'll look into that," James said. "Well, better get started on reviewing this notes."

"Indeed!" Port said, bouncing back to his more cheerful self. "Class starts in half an hour. Make sure you take notes on who's behaving and who isn't!" On top of the notes, Port slapped a pad of paper and a pen. James was glad he was literate, it would be awkward if he wasn't and he had to explain that around half of the people in the Mojave shared that problem with him. "Oh, and feel free to take any notes on the lecture, I have a feeling you might learn something."

James nodded as he sat down, reading through the notes and trying to balance speed with thoroughness. It was all absurdly complicated, at least to James. ED-E hovered by his head, his soft buzzing comforting in James's ear, though privately he felt it was a little distracting. He had half-baked ideas of getting through all of the notes before he skimmed them and saw just how many there were. At that point, he resigned himself to going back to the beginning and looking at the basics of the basics. "Aura enhances abilities, provides protection, must be actively maintained, in tournaments a person is eliminated when their Aura shatters or falls below a designated strength level, varies depending on the tournament. Vytal Festival Tournament- oh that's how they spell it, designates elimination Aura level at 15%, sparring matches are at 50%. Ring outs also constitute an elimination. Simple enough."

Underneath the last note was a list of actions that were considered illegal in tournaments. Nothing that caused permanent harm to an opponent, no outside help, no retrieving outside help, no performance enhancing drugs, nothing out of the ordinary. James put down the notes for a second just as the door opened. "Ah, come on in ladies and gentlemen! Time for another day of learning!" Port cried. A few dozen students filled into the classroom. After the cavalcade of colors he had seen the past couple of days, he was surprised to see the students wearing matching uniforms. Black jackets over white dress shirts, plaid skirts for the girls, black pants for the boys. They all filed into the seats that were raised above James and Port, many looking excited, though quite a few appearing tired or bored.

A very recognizable red-haired girl bounced in her seat as she spotted James, waving at him. Smiling, he waved back at Ruby. "Today will be a sparring day after the lecture," Port said. That got the attention of those who had been bored, nearly all of them perking up with surprise and eagerness. "But first, a recap of what we've covered so far." At that point, Port broke into a lecture about Aura and its applications in combat. Almost at once, attention began to slack. At first, James thought it was due to typical teenagers not paying attention in school, but then he listened to exactly what Port was saying.

Port made more than a few good points, but he had a tendency to ramble. He made the point that the strength of a person's aura multiplied their already existing strength and that the multiplication factor depending on the strength of aura, something James scribbled down and underlined twice, but then he spent the next five minutes talking about a boulder lifting competition he had been in. "So my arch nemesis and I were there, brows sweating in the afternoon heat when she upped the challenge to ten-ton boulders. Not one to be outdone, I accepted her challenge." This kept happening throughout the entire class. He made good points but meandered about with personal recollections.

"Then the bear came at me, but I got underneath its lunge with a and followed up with a good punch to the stomach," Port continued. "Remember that. Ursas aren't good at fighting those with low profiles." Another note for James. He had expected his page to quickly fill up with notes, but the going was slow. He took a quick look at the class to see if they were behaving, only to spot ED-E flying off towards them.

"ED-E? What the-" he began, but his question was answered before he could ask it. A blonde boy sitting next to a girl with a red ponytail that rivaled Yang's hair in length had fallen asleep. ED-E was heading straight for him. Part of him felt like he should stop this, yet this was supposed to be the kind of thing he should be taking care of. And while he would never admit it, he was interested to see how ED-E would handle this.

Coming to a halt just above the boy, ED-E slowly lowered himself down onto the boy's head. The face of the girl next to him scrunched up, the face of someone who was putting a great deal of effort into not laughing. Reaching out, she shook the boy lightly. With a start, the boy woke, almost banging his head on ED-E as he sat up. He vaguely heard ED-E beep at the boy before the eyebot flew back to James. "What did you say to him?" James asked dryly, keeping his eye on the boy as he did. The girl was barely choking back her laughs and slid a piece of paper towards him. Sharing notes most likely.

"Pay attention in class, dick for brains," ED-E beeped, following it up with a series of wheezing noises that sounded a lot like laughter.

"We have got to do something about that mouth of yours," James said. The girl was tracing her finger along the lines of the paper, mouthing instructions to the boy. It was good to see that the boy had a crutch to make up for lost time.

"Really? You're telling me that?" ED-E said. "Do I need to say more?"

James grinned. "I've been on my best behavior ever since my new boss gave me a talking to. And honestly, you abuse that most people can't understand what you say."

"This is true," ED-E said. "But you're going to go right back to saying shit, fuck, cock, ass, prick, and occasionally cunt the second the kids aren't around." This was perfectly true, though James decided not to admit it. The girl was smiling openly at the boy now, holding out a pen to him. He took it and began to write furiously. The girl reached out with her outstretched hand to touch the boy's back but stopped just before she reached it. Slowly, she pulled her hand back, looking a little ashamed. James blinked. What had that been about?

"And with that, we will now move onto the sparing section." James, surprised that apparently Port had spent half of class talking, got to his feet and followed Port out of the classroom, the students right behind him.

"Um, excuse me?" He craned his head backwards and saw the red-headed girl who had been sitting next to the sleeping boy. Up close, he could see that she was wearing a circlet with emeralds hanging from the side on a chain. "I'm Pyrrha Nikos. I just wanted to apologize for my leader. I've been helping him with his sword form and we were up late last night sparring. He wanted to make sure he was refining his skills after the Grimm attack and I pushed him a bit. Sorry." She looked genuinely guilty. "Mr…?"

"Walker," James said. "Hey, don't make a habit out of it and it's no big deal," he said. Honestly, he hadn't thought it was that big of a deal. The city the guy lived in had come under attack recently, it was understandable if he wasn't back at 100% yes, but the girl was so utterly sincere in her apology that he didn't know how to react aside from accepting it. Also, he was rather caught off guard by the fact that this teenage girl was an inch taller than him. He couldn't help but wonder if she was done growing and what the Hell her parents were feeding her.

She smiled brightly. "Thank you, Mr. Walker," she said. "I promise it won't happen again."

"Hey, you said he was the leader, right?" he said, vaguely recalling being told by someone, somewhere that huntresses and huntsmen operated in groups of four. "Shouldn't this be his responsibility, not yours?"

"Oh, well," she said, looking a bit flustered. "In the field yes, though he still has a bit of trouble finding his place as leader elsewhere. It's a work in progress, after all, he is only a first-year student." That sounded fair enough. At least to James's ears. "Either way, it won't happen again. Though, and I do hate to do this, I'm not certain he'll be up to sparing. A lot of his muscles are already sore, and he shouldn't push himself. And he was usually my partner. So could you please talk to Professor Port about that?"

James grinned. It always felt good when you had a chance to properly earn your paycheck, provided it wasn't a paycheck from a boss trying to screw you. "Hey, no need to go to Port, he told me to step in if someone needed a spare training partner. I'm your man." A wide smile burst across her face, so much so that it caught James off guard.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Walker!" she said gratefully. "I'll let Jaune now he can rest and recover." Mentally cataloging Pyrrha's and Jaune's names, he turned to see that they had arrived at their destination. A wide, open arena with several doors leading off to the side. The students headed off to the side doors, disappearing for a few minutes before emerging. They were no longer wearing their uniforms, but differently colored and styled outfits, weapons at the ready. He spotted Team RWBY in the outfits that they normally wore. Pyrrha made her way out of the changing rooms and headed in James's direction.

James was taken aback. She was wearing a leather breastplate and a skirt with a bright red sash flowing off to the side. It suited her naturally, but James couldn't help but think that it looked uncannily like something a legionary would wear, albeit with adjustments for a female form. Part of him couldn't help but raise an eyebrow though. He looked down at her boots and saw that they ended in high heels. And that, he had never seen a legionary wearing high heels before, and he didn't see Legate Lanius trying them out anytime soon. He imagined Lanius in heels before he could stop himself and had to choke back a laugh.

"Did I say something?" she asked, looking concerned.

"No," he said. "Just so we're clear here, you're fighting in those?" He pointed to the heels. He chose his words very carefully, trying to walk a tightrope between being respectful, but also constructively critical. He couldn't help but feel concerned. He had been in more than enough shootouts, punch-ups, and stab ups to know how brutally unfair it could all be, and how you needed every last advantage you could get to finish off your opponent before they snuffed your life out. The heels were a disadvantage, and Pyrrha seemed like the type of person who deserved better than to have everything that made her unique blotted out of existence because she had stumbled on rocky terrain.

"I'm certain I could talk to Professor Port about getting you some combat boots. They're not much to look at, but they feel comfy after a while and they're damn good at keeping your feet insulated." To get his point across, he lifted up his own boot covered food and tapped his heel on the ground. "Sturdy stuff." He hoped that he hadn't gone too far and possibly breached some kind of cultural standard he didn't know about, like maybe those heels were designed for training only, teaching students to keep balance. He was probably reaching with that one.

"Hm? Oh yes, I always fight in these," she said, turning to look down at her heels with a proud smile. "I appreciate the thought, but I really don't need a replacement set." James gave a smile that he hoped wasn't awkward. He didn't want to overstep his bounds, but he dearly wanted to tell her that she really should ditch the heels for her own safety. Despite this, the words died within him as Pyrrha turned. "Nora?"

"All right!" a girl with red hair, more orange colored than Pyrrha's striking red, and wearing clear white and shocking pink. She was standing to the side of the two of them, her scroll in hand. A boy in a green outfit and black hair, with an odd pink tinge, was standing next to her, looking wearily resigned. On her other side was the blonde boy who had been asleep in class. If James had to make an educated guess, these three were the other members of Pyrrha's team. Pressing a button on the scroll, Nora caused a see-through, holographic blue wall to appear around both James and Pyrrha. Apparently, that was the arena that would qualify an elimination if they were thrown out of. "I'm tracking your Auras! Go nuts!"

"Ready Mr. Walker?" Pyrrha asked, drawing her weapons from her back. A shield and what looked like a short spear. The Legion comparisons piled up in James's head, although he couldn't recall them ever using shields. For a second, he wondered why Pyrrha was planning to engage him in pure melee combat before he remembered the thing Blake used as a weapon and how it had been a bastard child of a sword and an SMG. There was a chance Pyrrha's spear was the same.

James slid his helmet on over his head, fastened the straps, drew his rifle, and took aim. "Whenever you are." This felt wrong, aiming a loaded weapon at someone who had been perfectly friendly to him from the second one. But he reminded himself about the boy in the White Fang and how he had reacted to having a magazine emptied at him. They were made of tougher stuff around here, and this match would stop well before Aura stopped being an effective protector. Speaking of Aura, he concentrated hard. He felt an odd feeling coating him. He hoped that would keep him from being gorged on a spear. Smiling, Pyrrha nodded. Then she threw her shield. Hard.

James barely had time to think before the metal disc tore across the arena and hit him straight in the gut. Even though his armor and Aura, the impact was enough to make him double over. Two contradictory sensations rang out through his body. That shield had hit him with so much force that part of his brain was screaming that he should either be on his back, have several ruptured organs, or both, and either way he should be in agonizing pain. Yet he was somehow still on his feet, and while he was in pain, it was more a generic soreness than the splitting agony that would come from his organs being torn in half. Thankfully, his Aura seemed to be working.

Forcing his head back up, he saw the shield bounce back to Pyrrha, who deftly caught it. Not wanting to give her a chance to repeat that move, he opened fire, abandoning all trigger discipline as he emptied his magazine. The first two shots caught her in the torso, but after that, she nimbly began to block the bullets with her shield. The remaining eight were all aimed at random parts of her body, James even shot at her shin at one point, but every time that bronze colored shield intercepted them before they could find their mark.

At least that makes more sense than doing it with a fucking sword! James thought bitterly as he ejected the empty magazine and loaded a fresh one. The exact moment he cocked it, Pyrrha threw her shield again. Swearing under his breath, James threw himself to the side, just barely missing the shield as it spun off behind him, leaving the arena. Sliding across the ground, on one knee and one foot, he saw that Pyrrha was now charging at him, spear in hand.

She's got no shield, I got an opening! He thought to himself, once again opening fire. Pyrrha was no amateur, however, and was ducking and weaving as she moved, making herself a very hard target. James forced himself to calm down and to remember trigger discipline. He began taking careful, calculated shots, all of them aimed at Pyrrha's center mass whenever there was a nanosecond of hesitation, such as when her foot hit the ground or she had to pivot. But something was wrong.

The shots didn't seem to be connecting. It was hard to tell for sure, he wasn't an idiot who used tracer rounds for everything, but he was getting no reaction from her. Even the boy from two days ago had flinched when James had managed to get him in the leg, but he was getting nothing from Pyrrha. She wasn't even stumbling as she continued to close on him, the distance between the two shrinking at a rapid rate.

Knowing for a fact that melee combat with her would end in a disaster, he holstered his rifle and was halfway through drawing his SMG when he heard a loud clang behind him. Out of instinct, he turned to look. Just in time to see Pyrrha's shield speeding back at him. Directly at his head. Lights popped up in front of him as the shield found its mark, putting him firmly on his ass as his head rang, feeling like a Super Mutant had clapped his hands around it. He could feel a faint lump where he had been hit and was certain she had dented his helmet. As he hit the ground, his Pip-Boy smacked screen first into the ground, and the cheap noises of a slot machine began to emanate from it.

"What the-" he began, getting to his feet, but as he did, the unthinkable happened. He looked around the room. Everything was moving at an oddly slow pace. The girl in pink was in the middle of a jump, screaming loudly in support of Pyrrha, descending to the ground so slowly that it would take at least five minutes to slow down. He turned to look at Pyrrha, who was mere feet away from him at this point, her next step glacially descending. He lifted up the Pip-Boy to read it. On it was the same slot-machine as last time, except this time Vault-Boy was dressed as a superhero with a great big A plastered across his chest. "V.A.T.S. ONLINE!" flashed at the top of the screen.

Realizing that he could use this to his advantage, James aimed his SMG and took aim. It took much longer to bring the weapon to bear than he thought. Whatever was going on, he wasn't moving any faster than anyone else, he was just seeing it all faster. After what felt like an agonizingly long time, he had lined up the shot and fired a spray of shots. It was uncanny. Everything was moving so slowly that he could see the flames from the ignited gunpowder bloom out of the barrel of his gun before they faded away, the ejected shells tumbling to the ground, and the fired bullets traveling in a straight line towards Pyrrha's chest.

Right before the last second and they suddenly changed direction, missing her by a narrow margin. A fuzzy black aura surrounding the bullets as the all veered in every direction except the one he had wanted them to go in.

James blinked something that took him a couple of what felt like seconds, as he stared dumbly at this. Then it hit him. Her Semblance or whatever it is, it's gotta be doing this. She can...I don't know, affect trajectories or something? That's why nothing was hitting her earlier, she was deflecting it all! I can't hit her no matter how many times I shoot. Fuck. FUCK! His panic was compounded by the fact that, even though it seemed like Pyrrha was moving at a snail's pace, she was still closing in on him. If his body was now moving faster than hers, it wasn't by a large margin, so there was only so much he could do before she was on top of him, beating the tar out of him.

Her heel clattered down on the ground, and James had an idea. A desperate idea, one that may not even work, but he didn't have much to go on. Unless he was imagining things, everything was slowly starting to pick up speed. Whatever his Semblance was doing to him, it was wearing off, so he had to move fast. Continuing to fire his SMG, James reached released his left hand, reached onto his back, and drew A Light Shining In Darkness. Hoping that Aura made him strong enough to accurate shoot one handed, he aimed and fired three shots.

To anyone watching, it would look like he had fired far too low and would be more likely to hit the ground than Pyrrha. If James had been watching someone else doing this, that would've been the conclusion he had drawn. He hoped that was what she was thinking, and that whatever she was doing to make his shots miss, she would be more concerned with the stream of 9mm bullets he was spitting at her. He hoped she didn't see the .45 rounds that were shooting towards her feet.

Two of them missed, tearing into the ground. The third was a glancing shot, bouncing off of her armored calf. The fourth and fifth rounds, however, hit right where he had been aiming. The heel of her right boot, which splintered as the bullets ripped through them. Pyrrha stumbled around the same time as James SMG clicked empty, slamming her spear into the ground to break her fall. Things were certainly speeding up again, at most, that was half of his normal speed.

James did a quick survey of the situation. His SMG was empty, his pistol had exactly one round left in it, and his rifle had half a magazine left. He considered going for his shotgun, before reminding himself that probably wouldn't work. Even in her current state, there was a chance Pyrrha would just deflect the pellets. So, that only really left him one option. It felt like a beyond stupid option, but he didn't have any other choices.

Dropping both of his guns, part of his brain screaming at him abandoning his weapons even though it was only a practice fight, he charged at her, drawing his knife. He couldn't help but appreciate the irony of how he had tried to avoid close quarters combat with Pyrrha earlier, and how he was willingly charging head first into it. It felt wrong. She had a shield and a spear, he had a knife. But she was off balance, and if he could capitalize on that, he would have a snowball's chance in hell of winning this fight.

Her eyes widened as she realized James's change in tactics. Her spear still stuck in the ground, she threw her shield a third time. With things still moving a little slowly, James had enough time to step to the side and swing at the shield with his knife. The impact made him feel like his arm had been dislocated, but it sent the shield clattering to the ground. It wouldn't be bouncing back at him again. Hopefully.

The effects of his Semblance fully wore off at that point, and everything came crashing back to normal speed. He felt momentarily dizzy, but powered on, slamming shoulder first into Pyrrha. He had expected her to go sprawling, particularly with the balance issue that a broken high heel would cause, but she maintained an iron grip on her planted spear with both hands. There was a grunt of discomfort from her, and he felt the spear shift in the small opening it had made, but she remained firmly upright. Or at least, as firmly upright as she could be on one knee.

Deciding to press his attack, James thrust forward with his knife, only for Pyrrha to parry the blow with her left arm, which had a leather bracer on it. James inwardly swore with frustration. Even with her in a disadvantageous position like this, he couldn't get more than one or two hits in. She was still holding her own. She's still a student!? HOW!? What more do they have left to teach her? Does she have to be able to do all this impossible shit while blindfolded? Ok, fuck this, plan B.

Sincerely hoping Pyrrha wouldn't hold this against him, both of James's hands shot out. His right in a stab that was once again deflected by Pyrrha's bracer. The left, however, was aiming nowhere near her body. Instead, James had grabbed for Pyrrha's long, flowing red hair, and felt his fist close around a handful of it. His frustration gave away to a small pang of guilt. Sorry, he thought as he pulled hard. The Huntress in training let out a cry of pain as her head was jerked forward, both of her hands reaching for her scalp as her roots were tugged on. With her attention elsewhere, James stabbed a third time.

This time, he found his mark, hitting her directly in the torso, following it up with two more quick stabs. His knife stopped just short of her, her Aura still fresh and strong, but he was making progress now. He made to pull on Pyrrha's hair again, but before he could get anyway, he heard something whistling behind him. A feeling of dread flooded him, and he had a pretty good idea he knew what it was. Releasing Pyrrha and throwing himself to the side, he barely avoided her shield as it flew back to its master, firmly landing in her hand.

HOW!? James inwardly raged, attempting to dart in and stab his opponent again, only to have his thrust easily blocked by her recovered shield. Feeling desperate, he grabbed the shield with his free hand, tilted his head back, and brought the front of his helmet slamming down on Pyrrah's face. This time, she finally went sprawling back. Not because the grip on her spear had failed, but because the force of the impact had uprooted it out of the floor.

Am I finally getting somewhere? he wondered as he charged again, Pyrrha struggling to get to her feet with one bad heel. Gritting her teeth, she planted her spear in the ground again, put most of her weight on her undamaged heel, and did something James never expected her to do. She jumped. Very high. So high that she shot up straight into the ceiling, somehow flipping in mid-air so that she hit it feet first, with her shield held out in front of her. Both hands gripping it firmly.

James stared up at her dumbly. No. She isn't. She fucking isn't. She was. Pushing off the ceiling with such force that James could see tiny chunks of masonry dislodged, she rocketed away, aiming straight for James. He never stood a chance. He had only taken two steps when she smashed into him, shield first, planting him into the ground so hard that he felt it crack beneath him. As aching pain spread throughout his entire body, the blue arena around them flashed red. "Aura below 50% match over," an electronic voice announced.

James lay there, most of his body in pain, staring up at the ceiling, with the weight of Pyrrha and her shield still on him. Well. That could've gone better. Like a thousand times better. "WOOOO! And Miss Nikos remains undefeated!" Nora bellowed from the sidelines. Don't rub it in, James thought sourly. The logic part of his brain told him that this wasn't that big of a deal. That all of these kids had been studying and practicing Aura combat long before he had even known it was a thing. It didn't little to change the fact that his pride had taken quite a pounding after being beaten so soundly by someone a third his age.

"Um, sorry," Pyrrha said, gingerly getting off of James as best she could with her broken heel. "I hope I didn't hurt you. That just came to me and I decided to act on it. Sorry." Smiling sheepishly, she held out her hand to James. He stared at it. She wasn't gloating, she wasn't rubbing her victory in, she seemed more concerned about his well being than anything else.

Shame began to bubble down the back of his neck and into his gut. He was being a stupid, petty little asshole getting worked up over losing. The girl had won, fair and square. He had done everything he could to beat her and he had come up short. Smiling, he took her hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. "That was quite intense," Pyrrha said, reaching down and starting to undo her damaged boot. "I've never faced anyone who fought quite like you did." She pulled her socked foot out, before lifting up the boot and looking it over. "Well, this is beyond repair. What made you attack it?"

In response, James undid his helmet, removed it, and pointed to the dent her shield had made earlier. "I had my Aura up and you were still able to put a dent in this. That got me thinking. Aura protects its user, it doesn't necessarily protect what you're wearing. Not things that are more on the outer section of your frame. A direct assault on you was going nowhere fast. You were a steel wall, so I had to take out your foundation." He felt a pang of guilt as he looked at the ruined boot. "How much do I owe you for a replacement?"

Pyrrha idly waved the comment off. "I've got half a dozen replacement pairs in my dorm room. These kinds of things happen with general wear and tear. Don't worry about it. And thank you again for the very challenging match." James wondered how much of that was sincere and how much of it was Pyrrha being polite. The majority of the match had felt less like a duel between equals and more like Pyrrha breaking in her new punching bag.

"All righty, the final scores are in!" Nora announced happily, marching forward with her scroll facing outward for James to see. He looked at the scroll, hoping that he had done well. It read "James Walker Aura: 45% Pyrrha Nikos Aura: 83%." He stared blankly at it. He hadn't even done half of the damage needed for an elimination. His gaze shifted to Pyrrha. She was a juggernaut that could crush Legate Lanius with one hand. Ok, THAT is something I'd pay good money to see. The irony of her proving the Legion's gender politics are bullshit would be the icing on the cake.

"Jaune, is there any chance you could help me back to the dorm room?" Pyrrha asked. "It'd be a little awkward to go hopping around on one foot."

Jaune blinked in confusion. "Couldn't you just take the other boot off?" he asked.

"Oh," Pyrrha said, looking downcast. "Right, I suppose I could. Sorry, I didn't think about that." James blinked in confusion. He wasn't sure why she had such a negative reaction to Jaune making a perfectly valid point. He paused. He went back to that moment in class where she had almost touched him but backed off. He cross-examined that with this moment. If Jaune had helped Pyrrha back to her dorm, the two of them would be alone together. He couldn't think of any other reason why Pyrrha would actually need help back. And then it all came together.

Oh. Oh dear. James thought. He glanced at ED-E, who had been hovering around the heads of Pyrrah's team the entire time. He cocked his head slightly at the robot. "Pencil-dick is clueless, isn't he?" the robot asked. James wondered how long it would take ED-E to get him fired.

"What did he say?" the boy with black and pink hair asked.

"He suggested that I have a little bit of a one on one talk with Pyrrha before she leaves" James lied as he retrieved and reloaded his weapons, deciding on the spot that a talk with the redheaded girl would be for the best. "ED-E, keep an eye on things. Pyrrha?" He gestured to a corner of the room that was empty compared to the rest. Clearly confused, Pyrrha followed him. James checked over his shoulder as they went. A dozen different sparring sessions were going on at once. In one arena, Weiss was shooting from corner to corner, being propelled by flashing, circular runes, while Ruby sped alongside her, leaving a trail of rose petals behind her. In another, an utterly massive boy in gray armor was swinging his mace at a boy in bronze, sending him flying out of the arena. And right behind him, Nora and the boy with a tinge of pink hair were beginning a match. It was noisy and chaotic enough that there was no chance of being overheard.

"Ok," James said. "First of all, no matter what I say after this, you were outstanding back there. I've fought with some tough warriors and monsters over my fifty years, and I feel confident in saying you could wipe the floor with every last one of them. If you're like this now, in twenty years you could probably bring entire armies to their knees, and you should be proud of yourself." Pyrrha blushed heavily.

"That said, I have a few pieces of advice. I really, REALLY think you should ditch the high heels," he continued. "At least when you're in the field. It took me a lot of effort to pull off what I did, but someone else could still do it by accident. Also, and I hate to say this, you may want to cut your hair." At once, Pyrrha wrapped a protective hand around her flowing ponytail and pulled it close, looking horrified. "I know, I know, hair that long was probably a year's project. But if I can grab it, someone else will be able to better. Like I said, this is only advice, but you should probably take it into consideration."

"In terms of fighting, honestly, there's not a lot of room for improvement, you already seem to have it mastered," James said. "I'd recommend you get a ranged weapon, but I'm guessing you have one and that I just didn't get a chance to see it." Pyrrha nodded. With a flick of her wrist, her spear turned into a lever action rifle, before she turned it back. "Yeah, that'll do it. You fought amazingly, but I do think there's one area you can improve in. You fought well, but you fought well conventionally." At least I think what you did was conventional by the standards of this place. "If you get a chance to get the drop on your enemy in an unconventional manner, take it."

"Like sweeping their legs or throwing dust in their eyes?" Pyrrha asked, looking as if she wasn't fully comfortable with the idea.

"Sweep em, blind em, spit in their eyes, hit them from behind, and kick them in the groin," James said. "Particularly if they're trying to kill you. It just takes one good hit to end a fight for good, and you need to make sure you were the one who delivered it. Fighting dirty is only a thing in tournaments where there are rules. Everywhere else it's just fighting. Your opponent won't show you the courtesy of a fair fight if they want you dead. And if they do, they're trying to kill you still, so their disillusioned sense of fair play is insulting and something that should receive no respect from you. Particularly if they started the fight."

God, fighting fair. That's such a Legion idea. Oh, the NCR cheated, they used snipers and explosives! Why didn't they fight man to man with sharpened sticks like real men? Oh, wait, because they're not fucking idiots! Well, most of them aren't. Pyrrha's disgust faded as she looked thoughtful. "Could you suggest to Professor Port that time be given over in class to learn to fight more creatively?" she asked.

"Actually, that's a great idea," James said, fully meaning it. He didn't know anything about how to teach a student how to flip in mid-air and push themselves off a ceiling, but optimizing your chances of victory in a fight? He could do that. "Yeah, actually, I think I'll talk to him about it after class. Thanks a million!" Pyrrha looked pleased.

"Oh, one more thing." James took one more look around to make sure no one was eavesdropping before gesturing to Pyrrha to lean in. Blinking in confusion, she did so. "He's oblivious," he whispered. "He's not going to make the first move." Pyrrha's face turned as red as her hair as she pulled back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, so quickly that James was quite certain she knew exactly what he was talking about. "We're just friends. Really good friends."

"At the moment, yes, but it doesn't take a nuclear rocket scientist to see you want more," James said. "And, well, look. He's a teenage boy. As a former teenage boy, 50% of teenage boys are idiots. Totally incapable of spotting things that are staring him right in the face. I was his age once, I saw it all the time around me. Heck, one nice girl I knew growing up turned out to have a really big crush on me. By the time I realized it, she had moved on. He'll probably grow out of it, but unless you feel like waiting, I'd really make a move now while there's still an opening."

"I just," Pyrrha said, peeking over James's shoulder to see if her team was paying attention. "There's a bit of a difference there Mr. Walker. Asking out boys isn't quite the same as asking out girls."

"Oh trust me, I'm well aware," James said. "There's always a bit of worry that wounded pride might come up. Thankfully most guys aren't like that, but there's always the worry that they'll be the type that oozes insecure machismo. Trust me, I've worried about falling into that pitfall more than once."

"Exactly," Pyrrha said, sounding relieved that James understood her concerns.

"And do you think Jaune is one of those people?" he asked.

"I, well, not exactly," she said. "I mean there was one moment in our first semester when he said something quite...questionable about where he wanted to be and what he saw himself at the moment. Though he was in a very dark place then, and he's never done anything like it since."

"Then I think it won't be a problem," James said. "Honestly, just answer me this. If you ask him out and he turns you down, would he make it awkward?" Pyrrha shook her head. "I'm not gonna say anymore then. Just think about it, that's all I ask. Trust me, I think you'll be a lot happier no matter what happens."

"I'll do that," Pyrrha said, giving James a nervous smile. "I really do need to get my boot replaced though." And with that, she exited the room. Ok, talking to the kids and giving them a more personal guiding hand. A part of this teaching thing I think I can actually pull off, he thought proudly. Feeling better about himself, he returned to keep an eye on Nora and the pink haired boy.

"Um, Mr. Walker?" Jaune was waiting for him, sounding nervous. "I guess Pyrrha probably mentioned it already, but I'm sorry for falling asleep in class. It-" but James held up a hand.

"It's fine," he said, smiling in an attempt to signal to Jaune that he should relax. "These are pretty extraordinary circumstances. Don't make a habit out of it and we won't have a problem." A thought struck him. "Though next time I might ask you to do a little one on one sparring session with me to make up for lost time." He widened his grin, hoping he would come off as someone who wanted a friendly match but also as someone who wasn't going to stand for Jaune falling behind. James had to admit, he was grasping at straws a bit when it came to the whole teacher thing.

"Uh, ok," Jaune said, sounding a little worried. "Just a warning though, I'm not Pyrrha. I mean, she's at a professional level already." James could hear more than a little bit of insecurity in that statement.

"Well, sounds like all the more reason you could use a little guided instruction," James said cheerfully, putting on a bright facade as his mind scrambled to put together the various bits of information he was getting. There was a possibility Jaune was suffering from low self-esteem, possibly stemming from a lack of talent considering the way he was comparing himself negatively to Pyrrha. "Next class, come in rested up and we'll have a go at it. Maybe mix things up and do a little hand to hand practice. Heck, if you really want, come see me after class. I don't have much going on." He remembered the meeting he was supposed to have with Ironwood. "Starting tomorrow."

"Well, can't hurt," Jaune said. "Thanks for not biting my head off Mr. Walker." James still didn't like the way that sounded, but asking everyone to call him James probably wouldn't work.

"Take care of yourself Jaune. I mean it, eight hours of sleep a night," James said, giving Jaune a comforting pat on the shoulder. He could partially see what Pyrrha saw in him, and deeply hoped she wasn't waiting for something that would never bloom. After all, if Jaune didn't feel the same way about her, things were over before they started. Think about this later. "ED-E, we really should keep an eye on the other students," he said. "You go clockwise, I go counter-clockwise." The robot nodded, gave a confirmatory beep,

Saying that the rest of the class was uneventful would have been an egregious lie. The number of teenagers he saw jumping through the area, firing oversized and impractical looking weapons that they nevertheless wielded with ease and efficiency was mind-boggling. There weren't any signs of injuries, though with the way Aura seemed to work that didn't surprise James. Particularly with the 50% cut off limit. Class ticked by and eventually the fights began to slow down, the students becoming exhausted even as the rotated in and out of the arenas.

He eventually found himself near Team RWBY's arena and stopped to watch. Weiss and Yang were inside, both panting heavily as they stood on opposite sides, weapons at the ready. "Go, Yang! You go too, Weiss!" Ruby shouted from the side, Blake right next to her. Both of them were sweaty messes with their hair sticking up at odd angles. He checked his Pip-Boy. Thankfully class would be over in five minutes and they would have enough time before the next one to recover.

Yang lunged forward, only for one of the glowing white symbols James had seen earlier to appear under Weiss' feet, shooting her over Yang in an arc. Growling in frustration, Yang stopped mid-stride and began punching the air in Weiss's direction, sending massive glowing projectiles at her. Weiss barely avoided them as she landed gracefully on the ground, spinning the revolver chamber in her sword, and slamming it point first into the floor. A wave of ice began to erupt from the ground, surging forward in Yang's direction. The blonde grit her teeth clenched her fists and opted to punch through the incoming wall than avoid it. Something that she did with gusto, ever last blow knocking massive portions of it off.

"They're really going at it, aren't they?" James remarked.

"It's the last match of class," Blake explained, looking amused. "Whoever wins this one is going to have uncontested bragging rights until the slate gets wiped clean next class. And neither of them really likes to listen to the other boast."

"Oh boy. Ruby, make sure that they play nice," James said before moving on. He was halfway between their arena and the next one when he felt something vibrate in one of his pouches. He nearly jumped, wondering what the heck was doing that, before remembering that it was what his scroll did sometimes. Pulling it out, he saw a message on the front labeled "news." "Third White Fang attack since the attack on Vale. Vale Council and General Ironwood to make announcement within the hour."

"Damn it," he said, pressing the message and trying to make it go away. Instead, he managed to open the article by mistake and was treated to a large picture. He nearly dropped the scroll. The picture was of a row of dead people. Dead people who had been crucified. "No. No," he whispered. "Those pricks. How did they do it?" Unless the White Fang had spontaneously decided to use crucifixion as a method of execution out of nowhere, only one group could be involved with this. The Legion.

Panic was flowing through him. He had to tell Ozpin this. Either the Legion was carrying out attacks under the guise of being the White Fang or, even worse, the two organizations had formed an alliance. It would be the Great Khans all over again, except there was no way in hell he would be able to talk the White Fang down. Even they didn't hate him for only having two ears, their initial encounter had ensured that diplomacy with them was all but impossible.

He forced himself to stay calm, or at the very least still and quiet. Making a scene in front of the students would be a disaster in the making, most of them probably knew nothing about the Legion. When class was over, he would make his move. "I'm telling you, they're all animals." James's ears perked up. He had stopped near an arena used by an all-male team, all of them wearing armor that had different colorings but looked positively mundane compared to the other outfits he had seen. They were crowded around a scroll, and James didn't need to guess what they were reading. He was about to move on when the tallest boy spoke again. "I mean, you never really see Faunus saying anything bad about the White Fang. They're just like the rest of them. Just animals. They probably help them out when the rest of us aren't looking."

An image of the father who had his ear shot off during the White Fang attack sprang to the forefront of James's mind. White hot anger flashed through James. Oh you stupid little bastard, he thought. Where'd you make that conclusion exactly? When your head was all snug and comfy up your own ass? He made himself take a deep breath. They were stupid kids, stupid kids that were responding to a difficult situation. He couldn't go after them for what was supposed to be a private conversation.

He was about to move on to get away from the verbal poison when the tallest boy spoke again. "Hey, Team CFVY is over there. Maybe we should ask their leader why her pet and her people even want to come to this school if they love the White Fang so much." James's head snapped back in the direction of the boy. He was leading the way to another arena where a team James didn't recognize was practicing. One of the students currently in the arena had a noticeable pair of bunny ears at the top of her head. And with that, a line had been crossed.

Crossing the room as fast as his legs would go without breaking into a run, he dropped into the middle of the path the boy and his team had been marching along. "Hey teach? Excuse me, gotta use the bathroom," the boy said, an air of practiced indifference to it.

"Your voice carries," James said, folding his arms and glaring at the boy. "I don't know what you have planned, but let me tell you something right now. Drop it. No one has the time or the patience for this particular brand of nonsense Mr…?"

"Cardin Winchester," the boy said. He vaguely recalled Blake saying something about a Cardin, none of it nice. "And hey, I just wanna ask her a few questions." He made to step around James, but James moved to the side, still blocking his way. Cardin sighed in frustration. "I don't know what you're talking about man, and I don't like being accused."

"Whether you like it or not doesn't have much to do with anything," James said coolly. Now that he was up close, he made the uncomfortable realization that Cardin was very big. At least half a head taller than James, even taller than Pyrrha. That, combined with the huge mace the guy was lugging over his shoulder, seemed to be giving him a good deal of confidence as he locked eyes with James. "I know you're going over there to start something. It's not gonna happen, ok? Party's over, back to your arena."

"Look teach," Cardin said, reaching out to put his hand on James's shoulder. James idly pushed it away before it got halfway close. His anger was slowly building up.

"Mr. Walker," he said, it taking a massive amount of effort to keep his anger out of his voice. "I believe some basic respect is in order?"

"Oh, so I have to be respectful to you, even though you weren't being respectful to me when you accused me of doing something I was never going to do." James's anger faltered for a second if only to be replaced by pure disbelief. Cardin had said all of that with a straight face. Either he was delusional, or he had next to no faith in James's intelligence. Either way, it was time to bring the boot down.

"You seem to be under the impression this is a debate," Jame said. "It isn't. And if this continues to be a problem, I'll be having a word about you being unfit to compete in the Vytal Festival. Can't have you making messes in the middle of that, can we now?" That got the reaction he was looking for. For the entire conversation, Cardin had been wearing an expression of either smarmy self-satisfaction or misplaced indignation. This time, however, he took a step back, looking shocked.

"You can't do that," Cardin said. There was an argument to be made that this was true, but Cardin didn't need to know what. "And if I can't do it, my team can't do it. It isn't fair. What gives you the right to march in here and start acting like you run the place?" Cardin was now mad, his grip tightening on his mace. He took a step forward, a step meant to intimidate. His head was tilted to look down at James, meaning James would have to crane his neck up to keep looking Cardin in the eyes. James did the only thing that was appropriate in that situation. He chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"You. Trying to scare me," James said. "Let me give you a piece of advice. I've fought a cannibalistic, pyromaniacal, rapist that was doing everything in his power to try and kill me. After that? It takes more than someone with a big stick and a bad attitude to get me quaking in my boots. And yet here you are, having a go at it anyway. Bit of advice. You want to intimidate me? Try. Harder. As for who I am, I was a guy hired by Professor Ozpin to do a job, a job I intend to see through so long as our relationship remains friendly, and as for it being fair? It's more fair than accusing someone of being an associate to terrorism based on purely physical traits. And I can't do it? Buddy. I'm friendly with Ozpin. You really think it's some Herculean task to point out your attitude problem isn't worth the PR nightmare it would bring? Because if it is, I suggest you drop that happy little fantasy because you're no Nemean Lion."

Cardin growled, shifting his mace. James felt a twinge of irritation. "Oh put that thing down already. We both know you aren't going to take a swing at me, so don't bother trying to keep me in suspense."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Cardin asked in a voice that was trying to be casual. Trying and failing with all the aggression in it.

"Spare me. It's a cheap trick and we both know nothing's gonna come of it. Because one, doing that here would guarantee that you would be expelled and two, if you were going to do it you would have done it already," James said scornfully. "You've got me outnumbered four to one at a range that favors your weapon as opposed to mine, but you're clearly just trying to go for some alpha male show of superiority or something similarly short-sighted and misguided. Whatever it is, I'm not impressed." It was all true. He had been in enough situations with people implying threats at him to tell the difference between someone who was just trying to scare him and someone who was on a power trip before they tried to kill him. And Cardin was no Nero.

"Now then, you're going to go back to your arena, keep sparing until the class is over, and I'm never going to catch hide or tail of you pulling anything like this with anyone ever again. If I do, you and I are going straight to Ozpin for a little chat, understood?" James's heart was pounding. Slower than it used to when he was in a stressful situation, but still pounding hard. Even though he was certain that Cardin wasn't going to take a swing at him, the argument was still causing his fight or flight instincts to kick in.

Giving an annoyed sigh, Cardin turned around. "Yeah, whatever teach."

"Mr. Walker," James said, though the second the words left his mouth he realized they were a waste of breath. Cardin simply gave an apathetic wave as he walked away, his team following right behind him. For the entire confrontation, his attention had been on Cardin. Only now did he properly take in the others. Two of them wore armor much like Cardin's except Cardin had some fancy gold trimmings and symbols on his whereas theirs looked rather plain. The last one, however, wouldn't look out of place in the Great Khans or Friends, with a torn leather jacket, single spiked shoulder pad, and a bright green mohawk. He blinked. That one didn't really seem to match up with the knight theme the others had going on. It was weird.

"And with that, we are done for the day!" Professor Port announced from the head of the class. "Please collect your things and have a wonderful day!" The students stopped fighting, many of them looking exhausted, and moved to collect their things. As they did, Port approached James. "I saw you talking with Mr. Winchester. Is there a problem?" The normal glee of his voice had faded. Port apparently knew when to take things seriously.

"Might be, the guy was looking to harass another student. A...Faunus I think they're called?" James said. But that had to wait. "I need to talk to Ozpin, in person." He held up his scroll and pointed at the crucifixions. "This attack? It isn't White Fang, or at the very least it isn't just White Fang. I know who's behind it, and he and General Ironwood need to know about it."

Professor Port's eyes widened. "Ozpin told me that he wanted you to help Professor Peach next class, but this is more important. I'll let her know where you are. Ozpin's office is at the top of the tower with the clock on the front, you can't miss it." James tore out of the classroom, ED-E right behind him almost knocking into a boy who had to be at least seven feet tall on the way out. Sprinting through the hall and through the first door that lead outside, he frantically looked around until he saw a tower that matched Port's description.

Running towards it, he burst through the front door and looked around the lobby. An elevator was at the far end. Stopping in front of it, he hit the up button and looked at the display on the side. The elevator was moving. Away from him. Someone had gotten on just before him. "Fuck!" he swore, looking around for a set of stairs and finding one off to the side, spiraling upward into the tower. Taking a deep breath, he began to charge up them, taking the steps two at a time.

With every bound forward, the images he had seen flashed in his head. Outside of Cottonwood Cove, Nelson, Nipton, The Fort, all places where the Legion had left their mark. And now it was happening here. There was no chance of them stopping there. If they had brought their favored method of execution to this world, then there would slowly start to work their ways down the checklist of every last vile act they loved to perform. "No," he hissed. "No more of their horseshit."

After what felt like ten minutes, he reached the top of the stairs. A fine, dark green door made out of wood was right in front of him, the elevator he had tried to use off to the side. He paused, putting his hands on his knees as he panted. Even with his artificial heart pumping oxygen through his body at a much more effective rate, there was only so much he could do before he got winded. After a little while, he caught his breath and his heartbeat began to slow. "You ok?" ED-E asked, hovering in front of James to look him in the eye. James nodded weakly. Swallowing to kill a little bit of the thirst that had built up in his throat, he pushed the door open.

The room inside was a wide-open office, bare except for a table, one desk, and with windows on all sides. The far one had the clock that was visible from outside the tower in it. Ironwood was standing in front of the desk, a woman that looked like Weiss Schnee if she had been aged ten years next to him, and Ozpin on the other side of the desk. "James?" Ozpin said. "Ironwood and I are in the middle of something important, so whatever it is will have to wait until-"

"It's the Legon!" James blurted out. "The attack that just happened? The people were crucified, that's what the Legion does when they want to make an example out of them. The crosses are designed so that the person puts all their weight on their chest when their limbs give out to exhaustion. They die slowly of suffocation. It's gotta be them. I mean, has the White Fang ever done anything like this before? Ever?"

Ozpin and Ironwood exchanged looks. "No," Ozpin said slowly. "They haven't. That's what we were discussing. Please, come in. Catch your breath." James approaching the desk, still breathing heavily as his heart slowly returned to its normal pace. "Water?" Ozpin asked. James shook his head as he grabbed his trusty Vault 13 canteen from his side, unscrewing the cap and taking a quick gulp of lukewarm water before closing it.

"I'm good," James said. "I don't want to pretend a lot about what the White Fang does, but if the Legion is in the equation, it changes the nature of things."

"I thought you said that there were only four of them," Ironwood said, a scrutinizing tone to his voice. The woman next to him silently stared at James, her expression unreadable. "I take it this means that your theory that more had come through before you found the portal was correct?"

"It has to be," James said. "There's no other way that it could've happened. Those four were rank and file, for the most part, maybe one of them a Centurion. One Centurion with three people isn't enough to pull this off, and they're not the types that can form an alliance with the White Fang in two days."

"But why form an alliance with the White Fang at all?" Ozpin asked. "Is the Legion sympathetic to the plights of peoples like the Faunus?" James couldn't help himself, he let out a roar of laughter. The Legion, champions of the downtrodden. An idea that was so absurd that it couldn't be considered anything other than laughable.

"No. They're not," James said. "The Legion fishes for disposable allies that it can use for their advantage then discards them. I'll saw off my own leg if they see the White Fang as anything more than pawns that they can eliminate."

"Please forgive me for interrupting Mr. Walker," Ironwood said. "But the more you go on the more I realize that you are the only one who has a proper understanding of the Legion. I was going to ask you to meet me after class so that I could properly interrogate you about the Legion, but seeing as you are already here, may we do so now?" James felt a pang of annoyance before he reminded himself that this would be a good thing. The more Remnant knew about the Legion, the better.

"So long as Ozpin doesn't mind me taking the rest of the day off," James said, glancing with uncertainty at his new boss.

"I would hardly classify this as time off," Ozpin said. "James is going to keep you very busy." The white-haired man looked rather grim, but James had no time to ask why.

"Very well," Ironwood said, walking to the table in the office and pulling a seat out. "I have a sketch artist waiting two floors below. I'll have to ask you to provide details for him when we get to that point." Producing his scroll, he typed something out on it before putting it away. "Now then, please tell me everything you know about the Legion. And I do mean everything."

Ozpin had been right when he had said that Ironwood would be keeping him busy. He was asked about the formation of the Legion, everything that he knew about the assimilated tribes, about Joshua Graham's fall, the details about the conflict between the Legion and the NCR, guessed at how many warriors the Legion was capable of fielding and the overall population of the Legion, at one point he produced a map and showed Ironwood the position of the NCR and Legion borders. He had ensured Ironwood that the Legion had been fully pushed out of Nevada and that the NCR had turned the bombed-out city of Mesquite into a forward operating base, being supported by the recently established ranger stations Lima, Mike, and November, which stretched along the NCR/Legion border. He informed Ironwood that the NCR had made scouting ventures into Legion territory when possible, but they could only get so far.

He told Ironwood that the popular theory had been that the Legion was hurting from all the manpower they had lost trying to take Hoover Dam, and that with New Vegas now annexed by the NCR, providing a steady power base, source of income, and supply of manpower to the NCR, they weren't sure they could take the area. He wasn't sure if that was the case anymore. He mentioned that there had been reports of rebellions on the eastern edge of Legion territory, but all signs pointed to them having been put brutally down. It got to the point where he was even telling Ironwood about how the Legion fed themselves, whether they were farmers or hunters, and if they used beasts of burden.

These questions and countless others all whizzed through James's head, as he told Ironwood every last scrap of information he could come up with. At some point during all of this, a man in the same uniform as Ironwood and the woman entered the room, sitting down without a word. The debriefing halted for a second at that point. "We've covered most of the important information regarding the Legion," the woman said. "What's left is the matter of their leadership. Are you prepared for that, or do you need a break?"

"I'm fine Ms…" James trailed off, realizing he had never gotten the woman's name.

"Winter Schnee," she said briskly. That explained the resemblance to Weiss. Most likely a big sister. She was in her late 20s at the very max, so she was too young to be Weiss's mother.

"Could you describe them then, please? The upper echelons of the Legion?" Ironwood asked. James looked around the room. From Ironwood sitting across from him to the sketch artist sitting to the side, to Winter giving him an appraising look from behind Ironwood, to Ozpin watching from his desk. The Legion was operating in Remnant, killing their people. They had a right to know about the leaders of the Legion. No matter how vile.

"Caesar is the leader, second to no one, no checks or balances limiting his influence," James said. "He built the Legion from the ground up, starting with being made the leader of one tribe, then conquering their local rivals, and then moving out and absorbing anyone he could find. He's even older than I am and the one time I saw him he looked like he was in decent shape and he had a displacer glove on, a weapon that could blow someone across the room." He smiled. "Although, at one point I interrogated a Centurion that the NCR had captured and got him to spill some interesting beans. Caesar had apparently been displaying symptoms that are usually seen in those suffering from brain cancer and a rather advanced form at that. I took what I heard and ran it by a doctor, and he gave Caesar five years. That was three years ago. So if Caesar's still alive, he's in a state where his ability to command is heavily impaired."

His smile slid away. "Although that may backfire. See, Caesar is a spiteful man. He's intelligent, there's a lot of philosophy behind the Legion and his ideas for a state where everyone works for the greater whole, his Pax Romana, but at the end of the day, he will use all his power and influence to lash out at those who angered him. He's had entire tribes slaughtered because he wanted petty revenge on a man who cost him the First Battle of Hoover Dam. He's a hypocrite too. Chems and alcohol aren't permitted in the Legion, but I spotted more than a few cigarette butts in his tent."

"At the end of the day though, Caesar is a control freak and a manipulator and will abuse, trick and subjugate as many people as he can to make sure he stays top dog. Son of a bitch actually tried to get me to join him." He looked down at the Platinum Chip hanging around his neck. At the .44 magnum bullet embedded in it. "He didn't take it well when I turned him down. He seemed to be the type of person who didn't get why I didn't think that a faction that was trying to carry out the enslavement of the entire female gender was a good future for the Mojave."

Winter noticeably moved behind Ironwood. "May I ask what you mean by enslaving women?" James looked at her. She was proving to be very hard to read. Poised posture, level tone, all of it the refined and deliberately neutral behaviors that James had seen from professionals in the Mojave. James almost wanted to change the subject, it was never pleasant to talk when the Legion's attitude towards women came up, but there was no getting around it.

"Everything you think it means and more," he said. "The only women I'm aware of that get special treatment are the priestesses of Mars and the ones that pass through Legion territory as independent traders. If you live in the Legion itself and aren't a priestess, well, you live to serve the soldiers of the Legion. Cook for them, clean for them, care for them and...provide sons that will one day bolster the Legions ranks for them. That last one seems to be optional though. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but the one time I was in Caesar's tent, I got the impression that some legionaries don't seem to care if the girl is too young to bear children yet." James's hands slowly curled into fists on the table. "Way too fucking young."

"I see," Winter said. Her voice was now noticeably stoney. James didn't blame her. Ironwood and Ozpin on the other hand both looked openly disgusted. A proper reaction if there ever was one. "Caesar has a poor attitude towards women?"

"You know, the fucked up thing about this all is that I don't think it's because he thinks women are inferior," James said. "He actually seems to venerate one of the NCR's old presidents to some degree because she ran the NCR smoothly for half a century. It's just that he takes the stance of viewing people by what they provide to the Legion as what determines their value in life. He views things in a detached, long-term mindset when he's not committing genocide because he's throwing a tantrum. To him, women are better suited off the battlefield having babies because it gives him more young boys to indoctrinate into worshiping him. And to fight his battles for him. That's the way Caesar works. Your entire life is dedicated to making the Legion stronger, you have no other purpose besides that. Every single member of the Legion is this way, from the lowest slave to the highest soldier. No meaning in life other than serving their emperor."

He was quiet for a moment. "Like I said, hopefully he's dead by this point. That'll be the deathblow for the Legion. They'll be able to keep the system running for a few years, but without Caesar to keep them all in line, civil war is all but guaranteed. Because Caesar's second in command is not up to the task of keeping the daily administration of the Legion running the way Caesar intends. No great overarching state for him, just a band of warriors and pillagers. Legate Lanius."

He leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. "Lanius is a goddamn monster," he said bluntly. "I only met him once, like Caesar, and it was at the climax of the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. He, Christ, he just isn't fucking human." His mind drifted, and he was back at Hoover Dam. All-American was in his hand, firing shot after shot at the charging behemoth of a man, who looked as if he was nearly seven feet tall. Shots found their mark, denting armor, tearing through unarmored spots here and there, and a steady trickle of blood was leaking out of his torso, but Lanius wasn't stopping, he wasn't even slowing down. The swing from his massive sword missed, but even as James dodged to the side, one hand was forming a first. James wasn't fast enough to avoid this one. It had felt like his chest had burst open.

"He punched me once, with his off hand," James said, barely registering that he was still in Ozpin's office. "Six broken ribs and it sent me flying." He had been face down in the dirt, All-American had been crushed into a twisted parody of the carbine it had once been. He had drawn his SMG and started spraying, but half a magazine to the leg had only given Lanius a minor limp. Cannibal Johnson had saved his life that day. His minigun having run dry, he had engaged Lanius in hand to hand combat with the strength of his power armor, but even he had not been able to kill Lanius. "And he soaked up a few dozen different shots from me with armor that was steel plating at best. And look," his mind drifted back to Pyrrha and how the teenage girl had managed to surpass Lanius's strength and endurance easily, "that probably isn't impressive by your standards, but Lanius didn't have Aura. If some of the legends are true, he slaughtered his entire tribe single-handedly."

All eyes in the room were on him, drinking in his every word, but James hardly registered it. All the memories of Lanius were rushing back to him. "As cruel as Caesar is, he was doing most of what he did to build what he saw as a better future. Lanius just loves the thrill of battle. I told him to his face that he was doing nothing but leaving dust and blood wherever he went. His response was to tell me, and I quote, 'I wouldn't have it any other way.' The man is the instrument for Caesar's conquest and a good deal of his cruelty at that. He's the one Caesar sends when an officer has displeased him. He beats the offending officer to death, then has 10% of the unit slaughtered by the other 90%. Literal decimation."

"I thought you said Caesar was a long-term thinker," Winter said, her voice sour. "Where's the pragmatism in killing his own soldiers?"

"For Caesar, maintaining absolute authority is the long-term objective that takes priority above all, and that's one thing Lanius really gets about Caesar's plan. He and Caesar are equally fond of crucifixion, the same thing we saw on the news."

When the Legate had been grappling with Johnson, James had thrown himself onto Lanius's back, drawn his knife, and started to stab everywhere there wasn't armor. Within seconds the blade was stained a deep crimson, with Lanius trying to shake him off even as he traded blows with his power armor-clad foe. Eventually, James had been thrown off, painfully hitting a wall. Lanius was finally starting to slow down at this point, but he and Johnson were hurting. He wasn't sure whether it was the heat of the moment or some desperate attempt to get a last word in before what could be death, but he had started to yell at the Legate.

"You don't fucking get it, do you, Lanius?" He had been in pain, he would learn later that a rib had pierced his liver and he was bleeding internally, but at the moment the adrenaline rush had kept him from noticing it. "How many legionaries did you lose the first time you tried to take Hoover Dam? And how many have you lost in this new campaign? The pile of corpses must be getting pretty high, I know my friends and I must've thrown at least fifty on top of it. You lost Cottonwood Cove, you lost Nelson, you lost multiple raiding parties, multiple assassination parties, and multiple spies. With the time it takes to train a legionary, there's no way in hell you're replacing all the men you lost from within, it's why you looked to the Fiends, Khans, and Omertas for allies, you needed the fresh blood. But your allies all faltered or turned on you, while the NCR and their allies stand side by side against you. In fact, while you've been stagnating, waiting for another go at Hoover Dam, the NCR has been planting roots in the Mojave, growing stronger and larger!" That last claim had been stretching the truth to the breaking point, but he had been too swept up in the heat of the moment to bother inserting nuance into his proclamations.

"Even if you throw enough men at Hoover Dam to take it, I promise you that it will be a victory that will utterly break you. You're fighting against a dug-in force that's being supported by Brotherhood and Enclave forces and has the Boomers pounding you from a distance. Even if you win this fight, you'll have an emaciated husk of an army, nowhere near enough to take Vegas with the NCR and Kings guarding it and especially nowhere near enough to take the Mojave. Not when your allies of convenience have all vanished. Then the desert will slowly eat your army alive."

"The raider attacks you claim to be so good at stopping will crop up again, either in the west or the east, depending on where you position what's left of your forces. You won't be able to swallow up tribes the way you used to, not without leaving at least one flank open. You're trying to take too much, too fast, with too little. And even after you push the NCR out of Hoover Dam and by some miracle of miracles the Mojave as a whole, you being able to take their core regions after that is just impossible. Face it, Lanius. The second you came here, you signed the Legion's death warrant."

And so, having said everything he could think of, he had stood beside Johnson, knife in hand, ready to die trying to kill Lanius. He had not expected what had come next. "There is wisdom in your words, man of the bear. You are not soft and foolish like those who lead the Republic. Your body is strong and your mind is sharp, you've tested both against the steel of the Legion and you have not been found wanting." He reached up, wiping off the blood that was trickling out of his armor. "And even with a man who relies on technology as opposed to the strength of his own arms at your side, you have proven to be a worthy adversary. If the Legion was full of men like you, we would have taken Hoover Dam the first time with little difficulty."

"If you're trying to flatter me, go fuck yourself," James had snarled. Lanius had given a small grunt of approval.

"Very well then. I have enjoyed this battle in a way I rarely do nowadays. Only NCR Rangers are capable of challenging me the way you have, and I look forward to the day where we finish this. But I will not allow Caesar's vision to die here. Hoover Dam will not be the graveyard of the Legion, but it will fall all the same. Not today, but it will fall. Farewell. Man of the bear." He had left after that, leaving James utterly flabbergasted.

"Mr. Walker?" James started. He remembered that he was still sitting in Ozpin's office, Winter was still looking at him. "Are you all right?" She, Ironwood, and Ozpin all looked rather concerned. James couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, got lost in my own thoughts," he said. The second statement was true. "Anyway, Lanius seems to have some aptitude for battlefield tactics, but I don't think he has a handle on strategy. Go to the next town, kill or enslave everyone there, move onto the next one, that's as complex as he can get on the strategic level. Under his leadership, the Legion will fall apart. But they'll do a lot of damage on the way down."

"In order words, Caesar is the brains, Lanius is the brawn," Ironwood said. "Along with the iron-clad fist." His voice wasn't sour, it was angry. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out why. He was learning just how bad the Legion was at the same time when the Legion was in Remnant's backyard.

"You know, I wish I had thought up that last one, that really sums it up nicely," James said. "Though Caesar doesn't have a monopoly in being thinkers in the Legion. If Lanius is the iron clad fist to the gut, Vulpes Inculta is the knife in the back. He's the only major member I've met more than once, and it's a minor miracle he didn't kill me the first time, he could've done it, and outside circumstances kept me from killing him the second time. He's the head of the Frumentarii, Caesar's black ops division that focuses on gathering intelligence, forming alliances, and launching terror attacks. And as much as I hate to say it, the Frumentarii are damn good at their jobs, Vulpes knows what he's doing. They almost got two factions in the Mojave to join the Legion against the NCR, they only didn't because one had the leadership who made the deal killed, and the other had to have half of the major figures within convincing their leader it was a bad idea. That took a lot of prodding and it sure as shit wasn't easy, the Great Khans were raring to go at the NCR after an incident where NCR snipers fired on Great Khan civilians by mistake."

"Then there was the Fiends, a bunch of nutjobs hopped up on all the drugs you could imagine and a few you couldn't that were attacking the NCR mainly for shits and giggles. The Legion didn't directly ally with them, but they did feed them a lot of information on NCR patrols that made them quite a thorn in their side. NCR hired me to do some bounty hunter work for them with some of their snipers backing me up and we decapitated their leadership. They fell apart after that, but the Frumentarii was doing a lot of damage and came damn close to doing even more. They had a spy in the NCR that managed to get all the way up to the rank of captain, were working on a weapons deal that would've gotten them some serious firepower, got dozens of troopers killed through the Fiends, and set off a dirty bomb that took out Camp Searchlight." A horrible thought occurred to him. "I don't want to cause any paranoia, but if the Legion is active in Remnant, there's a good chance they sent the Frumentarii in. You may want to start screening your soldiers to make sure none of them are Legion."

Ironwood's face had gone from angry to positively gaunt. Producing his scroll, he typed a few quick messages into it before putting it down on the table. "You have painted us a very grim picture, I must admit," he said. "I'm thankful that you did this, it's easy to just sit on information when people need to know what's going on." James could've sworn Ironwood glanced at Ozpin when he said that last sentence. "But now we're better equipped to deal with it. Is that all for the Legion's leadership?"

"There's one more guy of note, but he's minor compared to the others. Lucius, head of the Praetorian Guard, Caesar's personal bodyguards. He seems to hold a lot of influence in the Legion, but from what I dug up he seems content to play his role as what's basically Caesar's chief of security. He seems to be the best unarmed combat expert in the Legion, but apart from that, I don't know much, other than he's junior to Lanius. Anyone below these guys are people I'm unaware of."

"This is all very vital information," Ironwood said, and around that time James realized that the sketch artist had been furiously scribbling down notes the entire time. "One more question. Do you have any idea what the Legion's long-term goal in Remnant is?"

James thought long and hard before he answered that. "No. I'm sorry, but I'm honestly lost on that front. Maybe they want Aura and Semblance to beat the NCR? But if that was the case, they would just get that and head back to Earth. They wouldn't stay and find allies and they wouldn't pick fights they can't win. I mean, Jesus Christ. The shit I've seen you people field could flatten the entire Legion in a month. Maybe Caesar is dead and Lanius is just launching an assault without thinking about it. Best explanation I can think of. Again, I'm sorry, but we're gonna have to get the answer to that one from one of them."

Ironwood nodded. "I understand. Now then, can I bother you to give descriptions for pictures of these four?" James nodded. "Excellent."

After that, the artist began asking for details on the leaders of the Legion, with details that ranged from general to absurdly specific, with him spending five minutes trying to describe Caesar's nose. James felt like he was stumbling through the whole thing, with vague descriptions, corrections, and constantly asking clarifications, but the artist seemed to treat all of this like a typical experience. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Ironwood had crossed the room to Ozpin's desk, Winter right behind him, and was now talking to the headmaster in whispered tones, both of them occasionally stopping to send a message on their scrolls.

Eventually, the artist rolled out four sheets of paper in front of James and asked if they matched the faces of the Legion. James looked them over and was thrown off by how striking the resemblances were. "Yeah, that's good," James said, feeling impressed. The artist stood to his feet, said something to Ironwood about reporting back to intelligence, and left the office. James wasn't sure how long this had all taken, but judging by the now setting sun out of the window, it had been the majority of the day. He suddenly realized how hungry and thirsty he was.

Ironwood and Ozpin were still talking. Not wanting to be rude, he patiently waited, flicking the radio on with the volume on low and began to flick through the radio stations. He felt a pang of sadness as Radio New Vegas's frequency got him an unfamiliar station, the same with Mojave Music Radio. He flicked through the stations one by one, being greeted with unfamiliar songs, songs he couldn't help but feel sounded rather crap, and the occasional commercial or news station. Giving up, he turned it off.

"Trouble with your radio?" James blinked. Winter had crossed back to him and was looking down with her neutral expression. "You seemed to be frustrated with it." Her voice was still calm and professional, though James could hear some of the earlier sourness from his description of the Legion.

"No, radio works just fine," he said. "It's just that all of this is utterly alien to me. Your music doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard before." A pang of annoyance struck him. "I mean really, what the crap is this?" Turning the radio back on, he flicked back to a station that had been particularly galling to him. Some sort of instrument that he couldn't recognize was belching out high pitched notes before the vocals kicked in. We're all born with a dream we want to make come true. The best will climb to the top like me. "That doesn't sound like any music I ever heard. No saxophone, no pianos, no guitars, nothing that's actually pleasant to listen to."

He turned the radio off, thankfully silencing the awful sound, but he was surprised to see a mildly amused smile spreading across Winter's face. "My sister does a bit of opera singing, I'm fairly certain I have the files on my scroll still. She can be slightly off tune from time to time, but overall her performance is exceptional. If our music is that much to your distaste, perhaps this will prove to be better."

"I may take you up on that," James said, smiling himself. It felt stupid to be complaining about music after spending so long talking about the Legion, but frankly he needed a little stupidity. He glanced back at Ozpin and Ironwood. They were still talking, and their discussion seemed to be getting a little heated, with voices starting to get raised. "Hey, I don't mean to pry, but is it just me or is there some tension between the two of them."

Winter hesitated before she answered, and even then she shot an uncertain glance at Ironwood as if wondering if she was allowed to answer that question. "There were disagreements between the two of them before you arrived. There was an infiltration of the CCT tower by an unknown individual and overall evidence of someone working in the shadows for ill intent. The White Fang's attack on Vale is believed to be connected, and a gang leader named Roman Torchwick was arrested during the attack for being a ringleader. General Ironwood suspects that he is merely a middleman though and that someone else is pulling the strings. Ozpin and Ironwood had differences in agreements for how to approach the situation, and recently General Ironwood convinced the Vale Council that it would be for the best if he was in charge of the security in Vale for the Vytal Festival. I admit the manner in which he accomplished this was far from savory. However, it was for the best, and I believe Ozpin will come to understand that in time."

James didn't reply right away, not sure how to feel about two people who were supposed to be friends engaging in politics over who got to manage security. Particularly when he didn't know enough about either of them to take a side. He instead turned the conversation onto something he felt he had enough information to reply to. "This Torchwick guy, you think he was taking orders from someone else? Isn't there a chance it was a Frumentarii? Getting a bunch of other people to carry out a suicide attack with high casualties inflicted is something that's right up their alley."

Winter looked thoughtful. "It is a possibility," she said, "we currently lack other leads, our attempts to interrogate Torchwick have proven unsuccessful. There's no conclusive proof that that is the case, but it is a possibility." She nodded her head in thanks. "I will make sure this is passed along to the general."

"Ah, my apologies James," Ozpin said, breaking away from his conversation with Ironwood for a second. "General Ironwood has all that he needs, you're free to go." Ironwood aggressively whispered in his ear. Ozpin frowned in distaste. "Although he would like me to inform you that it is highly likely this chain of attacks will result in class being canceled tomorrow and that he made be enlisting the help of Beacon's staff in order to prevent future ones." He looked directly at Ironwood. "He and I are still debating the details about that last part. I'll contact you in the morning about this. I have someone in the field gathering intelligence on these attacks and I would like to hear more from him before we make any decisions." With a feeling that things were about to get much more bitter, James got up.

"Hope I was a help," he said, before half walking and half running for the door, ED-E following behind him.

"Specialist Schnee, since we have now established the presence of a new hostile force in Remnant, one that would consider Mr. Walker a high-value target, please do him the favor of escorting him home." Ozpin and Ironwood stared intensely at each other, and James was glad for when Winter, who looked as surprised as he felt, crossed the room and exited the room with him. There was a slow silence as they made their way down the tower. James broke it.

"Does he do this often?" James asked. "The security detail I mean. I admit I'm still learning the ropes around here, so I don't know if this is normal or exceptional."

"The situation as a whole is rather exceptional," Winter responded crisply.

"For them maybe, not for us," ED-E beeped. "After you get Fisto, not a whole lot can qualify as exceptional anymore."

"Ok, ED-E, that's a good point, but I'm gonna have to remind you that we agreed we were never going to talk about that again," James replied, very glad that Winter didn't understand Morse Code.

"I think I'd rather not ask," Winter said, a smidgen of dryness in her voice. "Changing the subject, how is my sister doing in class?"

"Well, keep in mind that I've had a sample size of an entire day, and a spent a good chunk of that day trying to not get my skull caved in, but she seems to be absurdly talented and excelled in sparring today. Again, this is coming from someone who's still new to the school, and who is also still wrapping his head around the whole Aura thing."

"Well, good," Winter said. "She always did have talent, though sometimes it takes a bit of a push to get her there. If you're going to be part of Ozpin's staff, here's a bit of advice from someone who used to tutor Weiss in combat. Sometimes you have to be strict and stern, though not pointlessly cruel. Sometimes people Weiss's age lack the means to find their way on their own, and pointing them in the right direction isn't enough. If she ever gets stuck remember that."

"Right, good advice," James said. The policy was solid, though James privately thought that a gentle nudge was all people like Weiss needed, while the sternness should be saved for people like Cardin.

James sighed as he held the door open. "I get the funny feeling you and I are going to see each other again real soon. And under highly unpleasant circumstances."

She gave a stiff nod. "Possibly." She glanced at ED-E. "The general was interested in learning more about the inner mechanics of your machine here, it's a pity we didn't have time for that. Perhaps we can start tomorrow with that?" She frowned. "Upon further thought, most likely not. It's classified and I can't give too much away, but we will be conducting extensive operations tomorrow."

James would be more concerned if they weren't with the Legion in the area. He was about to bid Winter goodbye when an idea struck him. Part of him really didn't want to go through with it, part of him just wanted to close the door and scrounge up something to eat. But Ironwood and Winter were on the same team as him, and if they were fighting the Legion soon, they would need every edge they could get. "Look," he said slowly. "I'll make you a deal. I can show you how ED-E works. Even if you're not an engineer, you can take notes can't you?"

Winter raised an eyebrow, looking interested. "I have some experience with machinery, though you are correct in saying I am not an engineer. I could easily record your explanations, however."

"Ok. Listen, I'm starving, I've had some jerky to eat today and that's it. If you can get us some food, I'll show you as much as I can about ED-E without disassembling him. And if disassemblement is necessary, then I'm sorry, it's not gonna happen," James said. He folded his arms, preparing for an argument over the disassemblement clause of his argument, only to be surprised when Winter gave a curt nod. "Wha? Oh. Ok. Well, let's get the food arranged and then we can-"

"Understood," Winter said, producing a scroll. She typed a few commands into it before holding it up to her ear. "Yes, I'd like to order one extra cheese, please. To Beacon Academy please, teacher's dorms, room 5. Thank you very much." She lowered the scroll. "Our meal will be here in fifteen minutes." James blinked. It was that easy? Had Pre-War Earth had it that easy?

'I, well, come in then," he said, holding the door open. Winter nodded, said a quick thanks, and entered the room. Feeling nonplussed, James closed the door. "ED-E, could you do me a favor and stay still for a bit?"

"...You're just showing her what's under the hood right?" ED-E asked. The beeps came slower, more hesitant. James was pretty sure he understood why. What had almost happened to ED-E back on the East Coast.

"Right buddy. Nothing more than that." He gave ED-E a comforting rub on the side. "It gets to be too much and you want it to stop, just let me know." ED-E let out a soft beep and nuzzled into the hand before flying over to the counter, where he slowly landed. "Ok, Ms. Schnee, watch closely, because it can get a little complicated." She nodded, producing her scroll and holding it up as James slowly began to slide ED-E's outer plates off. "Ok, ED-E's power source is pretty spectacular and reliable, but it requires some explanation, so let's start with the basics of fusion."

XXXXX

Cinder Fall sifted through her scroll as night fell over Beacon. Something had happened, her backdoor into Atlas's database showed her that large quantities of new data were being added at an alarming rate. She narrowed her gaze, sifting through it.

"I think Adam's lost it," Mercury said from behind her. "You read what happened earlier today? Twenty-two people dead, most of them by slow suffocation, and three of them mauled to death. Except get this, one of them had bite marks on them that weren't from dogs. They were human. And the same person even had some letters carved into his forehead, an X and two Is." He gave an amused laugh. "Adam's doing a real great job at fighting the Faunus aren't animals stereotype. I guess all the mean people hurt his feelings and he took it too personally."

"Cinder? What's wrong?" Emerald asked, leaning over Cinder's shoulder to look at the scroll.

Cinder didn't reply right away, continuing to scroll through her way through the trove of information. Then four sketched faces came into view, with a note right beneath them. A smile spread across her face. "Nothing is wrong. In fact, we've finally figured out what's made Adam so bold. He's found new allies." She scrolled down, reading as she went. Caesar's Legion. Commonly allied with lesser tribes through trickery. Commonly betrayed and enslaved them. Cinder smirked at the thought Adam's followers being forced to kneel at the side of the old man that had been sketched. "It looks like they'll turn on him when they have no more use for him."

"So," Mercury said, flopping down on his bed and letting his head hang over the side, staring at Cinder upside down. "We just gonna let them kill Adam?" He gave a loud yawn. "Sounds pretty boring." Cinder half wondered if he was trying to provoke her. She would let him play his little game for now.

"No," Cinder said. "In fact, Ironwood is planning on taking the fight to this...Caesar's Legion. And he's planning on letting student teams volunteer to assist Atlas forces." She read a little further and gave a small laugh. "Despite protests from Ozpin."

"So we're gonna be playing soldier?" Mercury asked. "Marching up and down in uniform to make Ironwood feel like a big boy?"

"So that he feels like a big boy in the same way you feel like a big boy when you say something that you and only you think is clever, yes," Emerald said, her voice scathing. Cinder barely noticed as she continued to read. She had no idea who this Caesar was, outside of what was written in front of her. But then again she didn't need to know very much about him.

He was going to be dead soon.

XXXXX

Author's Note: Old man complains that young people have crap taste in music. Nah, I kid. A more accurate title would be old man complains about radical culture shock. Old man doesn't get why he can take shit off of dead people. Also, old man is the anti-racist for once.

James is 5'11, I decided that rather early on. Amusingly, Pyrrha is 6'0, so I thought I'd bring that up. Though I'm not going to be messing around with height too much, because for some reason RWBY averts Teens Are Short, but as a by-product made every most of the adults goddamn giants. Seriously, check out the RWBY height chart, most of the adults are over six feet. Ozpin, Glynda, Ironwood, and Oobleck all dwarf Pyrrha. That's a bit much, so I'm probably gonna skate over it, as fun as it might be to have everyone calling James shorty.

On the matter of James losing to Pyrrha, I thought it would be interesting to make him inwardly frustrated with losing. Even though it makes sense that he would lose, that wouldn't make the act of getting your rear handed to you any less bitter. I mean, imagine you're playing a video game you're normally pretty good at, and a five-year-old beats you. Now, even if that child is a prodigy that plays on a level most people can only dream of, the more primal part of your brain is still going to be upset. I wanted to depict James as a mature adult, but being a mature adult doesn't mean a lack of more petty and selfish impulses, it just means you've got them better under control. I feel like it makes him more three dimensional. More human.

Speaking of which, I was originally going to have him fight Cardin AND Pyrrha, with him (just barely) beating Cardin before he went on to get stomped by Pyrrha, for the dual purpose of knocking Cardin down a peg and showing where James is on the RWBY battle tier. Able to hold his own, but ultimately not up to taking the greats in a head-on fight. But if I did that, there would be way too much action in this chapter, and I think the solo fight with Pyrrha got where he stands across. So I decided to limit him knocking Cardin down a peg to him being a teacher.

I actually went through a really weird process when writing that scene. First I thought "Oh Velvet's a second-year student and Team RWBY is the first-year team, they won't be in the same class. Ok, I'll just make up a team for this scene, CBLT? Yeah, CBLT is good." But then it hit me "actually, wait a fucking moment, Velvet WAS in class with team RWBY in volume 1. Yeah, they gave her character a soft reboot in volume 2, but she was still there. Ok, fuck it, just use Velvet."

And while the idea of a student lying directly to a teacher's face when the lie is beyond obvious may sound absurd, I can promise you, as a sub, it happens quite often. Honestly, the way I wrote James and Cardin's confrontation had me taking a lot from my experiences as a substitute. Just altered a bit to accommodate there being superpowered people involved. Some of the kids I have problems with I can honestly see them implying they would hit me with a mace if they were in a situation where maces were commonplace. They would never say it out loud, oh no, but they would imply it.

And before anyone asks, James took both the Lady Killer and Confirmed Bachelor perks. If you catch my drift. Also also, I really, REALLY need to get more chapter perspectives from RWBY characters. It's been necessary to focus on James the last few chapters as we set things up, but it's a crossover, not a pure Fallout story. Expect more RWBY perspectives next time.

Also also also. This chapter's length kinda got away from me.

I would like to thank my Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, and Josue Garcia for their amazing support.