Issue #2

The pair rode through the night and well into the evening of the next day, only stopping for short breaks here and there. Jaune mostly rebuffed her questions during them, telling her to save her breath for when they had more time.

Vermilion collapsed onto the bed of the inn they had stopped at with a relieved sigh. Who knew that riding a motorcycle could be so taxing but her rear end confirmed that it was. She was tired too but force her eyes to stay open as she considered the other person in the room. The blond man she had just met yesterday was carefully removing his dark brown duster and the armor under it. She noticed he had a breastplate and matching gauntlets and greaves.

His sword, Crocea Mors as she had learned in their brief conversations, was sat within reach of his bed. He removed his breastplate revealing a plain black t-shirt underneath that fit his form. Vermilion felt she should be more concerned about being alone with a stranger like this but was too exhausted to care. Besides, the man had only ever looked her in the eye and her mother had always say you could tell a lot about a person from their eyes.

With great effort she rolled over and sat up, propped against the headboard, "Hey Jaune." He looked her way, one eyebrow raised, "Can you tell me more about my eye?"

The man rolled his shoulders and sat down on the edge of his bed, lost in thought for a moment, "I don't know that much. Just what she told me."

"By she you mean the…" She tried to recall what Toland had said, "Reaper of Beacon?"

A wistful smile appeared on his face for a second before vanishing, replaced by a neutral expression, "Her name was Ruby Rose. She was the first friend I ever made at Beacon Academy and a genius huntress."

Vermilion caught on to what he said, "Was?"

"Yes. Was. She died. Almost twenty years ago." The blond man's voice grew gravely at that.

"What...What happened to her."

He looked at her sharply, "She died."

End of discussion.

"What about that cult? Is there anything else you can tell me?"

He levelled his gaze at her for a long time before sighing, "I suppose you'll find out eventually. Might as well prepare you now. As you heard me say, the Cult of Salem, as they are officially known, is just that. A cult centered around their godlike figure known as Salem. What I didn't say was that Salem is real."

"A real god?!"

"No!" His voice raised for a split second until he lowered it again, "No. Salem is not a god. She is a monster. A monster that creates and controls the Grimm."

Vermilion's blood ran cold.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"And she wants me dead?"

"Not exactly."

This earned him a confused look.

"Your predecessor fought her. Salem has been inactive these last twenty years."

This was a lot for the young girl to process, her mind reeled at the implications. If the Grimm were created by a single entity that meant that one being wanted all of humanity dead. That there were people who could worship such a being made her sick to her stomach. She strained to remember her other questions, not trusting the man to volunteer any information. He seemed to be content with silence, but she wasn't.

"Are you going to train me?"

"No. That's up to Beacon."

"What if I want you to?"

"You don't."

Frustrated, Vermilion scowled at the man, "And how the hell d'you know what I want? How could you possibly know? You're not the one with crazy cultists hunting you!"

"Shut your mouth girl!" Jaune roared, "You don't know what you're speaking of, so I'll forgive it. But don't think for a second I haven't been where you have."

Her mouth clicked as it shut, the look of fury in his eyes was the same one they held when he has slaughtered the zealots who were going to murder her. She looked away, still indignant. She heard a loud sigh and the atmosphere was gone again, Jaune just looked weary, almost frail.

"Anything else you want to know?"

"Only if you give me complete answers."

He fixed her with one baleful orb and she crossed her arms at him with one eyebrow raised. Eventually he nodded.

"You said you've been where I am, what did you mean?" She hedged.

"The Cult of Salem wants me dead a lot more than you, Vermilion. I've been causing them problems for a long time."

"What kind of problems?"

"I hunted them." Was all he said and to be honest it was all he needed to.

She had seen him utterly dismantle the group that had kidnapped her. He had been swift and decisive. Not flashy like most hunstmen Toland complained about. His style seemed brutal yet effective and she had to wonder what he had been through to develop such a style.

"Okay. I can get that. What about aura then? Mom wasn't… the best at explaining things. She just told me it was a force field."

The edge of his lips twitched up for a second, "Sort of like a force field. Aura is the manifestation of your soul. The stronger your soul the more aura reserves you have, or so the saying goes. However it doesn't just automatically protect you, you have to activate it and if you leave it on too long it will start to fatigue you."

Vermilion nodded along, wishing she had some sort of notebook. He started to explain the basics of aura control and that more advanced users could move more aura to certain parts of their body, increasing the efficiency of the protection and lessening the mental strain. It was hours later when he had to stop her, mentioning the time and at that she remembered her exhaustion. The soon to be huntress fell fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Two figures sat in conference high atop Beacon Tower. The woman leaned on the desk, steepling her fingers as she considered the man before her. They had known each other a very long time indeed but what he was asking of her wasn't something she couldn't just grant.

"I don't care how long we've known eachother, you know as well as I do that I just can't allow another person to join the academy. She has no training and there's no telling if she'll be fit for the role. It would be unfair to fit her to a team, for them and her. The students her have been training since they were eleven. She's seventeen."

The other leaned forward in response, "So was Arc."

"Arc faked his way into Beacon."

"And if I said Headmaster Ozpin already knew?"

"Don't you mean that you knew?"

"Forgive me Glynda. You know how hard it gets to separate memories."

"Believe me Oscar, I don't. But I will take your word for it."

The man with the silver cane nodded at the elder woman.

"Give her a chance." He continued after taking a sip from his mug, "Let her stay in the dorms. Catch up. After a time let her try to fit in with one of the teams. Perhaps Ms. Belladonna's team?"

Glynda levelled one of her iconic glares at the man, though he went unfazed by it, as he took yet another drink from his mug.

"Ms. Belladonna has been complaining ever since her team landed initiation with only three members."

"Yes. That was quite the unfortunate accident, what happened to Mr. Trudeau, but you cannot argue with Ms. Belladona's team's accomplishments."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Like mother like daughter, team RWBY was much the same way when they were in school."

Glynda brushed a lock of her grey-blond hair back behind her ear and took a long sip of her tea, eyes closing and the mellow flavor.

"What did it cost you to get Jaune to go?" Glynda asked, seemingly changing topics effortlessly. When Oscar raised and eyebrow at her she merely returned the gesture. When it was clear she would not give up he sighed.

"The favor he owed me. I merely cached it in."

"And you think it wise to send him? After what happened-"

"That is precisely why I sent him. Jaune Arc is a capable huntsman, I'd say equal to Yang in some respects, and his past makes him perfectly suited to guarding young miss Ash."

Glynda merely glowered at him, showing her disapproval of that kind of manipulation of a broken man. When it came to enemies and danger he was certainly put together enough but he had no social life and seemed to exist merely for revenge.

"Is it wise to send someone with a deathwish?"

"Deathwish? Is that truly all you see in him now Glynda? Was it not you who said the man had incredible potential?"

"Had being the operative word Oscar."

"Still does. He is a man who has lost the woman who meant the most to him. He is not broken he just needs purpose."

"And you believe this young woman is it?"

"Perhaps. Jaune Arc is too valuable to lose. Besides, I couldn't send anyone else anyways."

Glynda nodded in reluctant acceptance of his reasoning, it was true, there was no one else to really send like that. She made her decision.

"Very well Oscar. I will have a guest dorm prepared for Ms. Ash."

"Thank you. And as for her training?"

"I will notify Professor Xiao-Long."

"Thank you Glynda. And good night."

Oscar stood with a final sip from his mug and left the room, silver cane tapping against the floor. Meanwhile Glynda looked at all the paperwork and sighed, No wonder he didn't want to be Headmaster again.

"I thought you weren't going to train me?"

"Well if you're going to complain…"

"I'm not complaining!"

Jaune raised his eyebrow at the young, brown haired girl who was holding his sword in a pale imitation of his own stance. With a sigh he pushed off the tree he was leaning on and approached her. He moved her arms upwards, adjusted her grip, and widened her stance until she was standing correctly.

The pair had stopped for a regular brake and he had decided to give her a little of the basics, in case something happened on the way to Vale of course. They hadn't seen the last of the Cult and he couldn't very well have the girl freezing up on him. She may have had aura now but it wouldn't do any good if she didn't know how to use it, which had brought them to the situation they were in.

"The weapons of Hunters are sharp but what makes them so deadly is aura. It can be extended out of the body to coat a weapon and increase it's sharpness exponentially."

Vermilion stared at him, the meaning going over her head. With another put upon sigh he drew his knife from his belt and almost lazily swiped if across a bough just above his head. The branch, thicker than his arm, fell from a clean cut.

"This will become second nature to you, just like defending with your aura. Now focus. Imagine the blade in your hand as an extension of yourself. As it becomes a part of you so too does your aura recognize the weapon."

She opened on eye, "How will I know when I've done it?"

Jaune shrugged and stepped to the side of the tree that was behind him, "When you think you've got the feeling I want you to try to cut this tree down."

"The whole tree?" She asked, eyeing the thickness of the trunk.

"No only a little. YES the whole tree. Shut up and concentrate."

With some grumbling the young woman did as she was told and concentrated. In her bare hands she felt the wrapped leather of the hilt. In her mind she could even trace the ornate, golden guard and the bright silver blade that had a hint of gold running up it. Despite being unfamiliar with the blade itself she could picture it clearly in her mind. It felt natural, as if it belonged.

Slowly she opened her eyes, gaze focused on the tree trunk. Her two hands tightened on the grip and she lunged forward, stepping several paces whilst bringing the blade up over her shoulder. Vermilion tried to remember Jaune's words, she put her whole upper body into the swing, twisting her torso so that, when she brought the blade down diagonally, it had the force of her body and not just her arms behind it.

All of a sudden she was stopped, the sword's tip buried in the ground and dirt kicked up into the air. Time came crashing back, the tree toppling over and an intense numbness filled her hands. She dropped the sword and shook her hands out, desperate to get the feeling back. Her eyes drifted to the stump, a clean cut and furrow in the ground tracing the path of her swing. Vermilion had felt almost nothing as her blade had cleaved into the tree, just a faint resistance.

"That was amazing!" She exclaimed, pumping her fists into the air, "Did you see that!"

She looked to the blond knight as he picked up and sheathed his sword. He regarded her a moment, "Congratulations. Now you're at the starting line."

"Ugh, can't you be happy for, like, one second? I just cut down a tree in one swing!"

"And so can any signal student, the youngest of which are thirteen."

She huffed and crossed her arms, looking away, "It was cool to me." She said in a low voice.

Jaune's rear hit the stool as he ordered a drink at the town bar. He couldn't help but think back to the lesson he had imparted the young Vermilion not a few hours ago. It normally took months of training for a hunter to be able to extend aura to a weapon but this girl had done it so naturally. Was that the power of the silver-eyed warriors? He shook his head. Too many questions. And he didn't want the answers. The girl would be out of his hair soon enough and he could finally be even with Oscar.

The girl in question sat down next to him, subtly rubbing the small of her back underneath her cloak. Jaune would never admit it but he felt the pain too, that's what the brandy was for. He could blame his mentor, Qrow, for that particular predilection. One didn't spend years around the man without getting used to drinking and considering the daunting task they had undertaking, alcohol had been imbibed regularly. He ordered another drink and the young woman looked at him questioningly as another arrived, it was colorful with a small umbrella in it.

"Strawberry Sunrise. I hear it's pretty good."

She took a sip of the red cocktail, considering face until she shrugged and took a bigger drought from the glass, "Thought you were supposed to be the responsible adult here?"

"Who said I was responsible?" He asked with a serious face, "Besides. You're going to be a huntress now. Given the thing's you're gonna go through a little alcohol is nothing."

A worried look passed her face, no doubt questioning why she was becoming a huntress before remembering that she had little choice to begin with.

"How long till we get to Vale?"

"Evening tomorrow, thereabouts."

Vermilion hummed in response and sipped her drink more, no doubt enjoying the sweet flavor. The bar was loud and raucous, full of miners and some other workers blowing steam. One such patron stumbled near them and caught himself on the bar next to the silver eyed woman. In his drunken stupor he smiled at her and to her credit she managed not to cringe. Instinctively Jaune's hand strayed towards his weapon, but he forced it back up on the counter.

"Hey there. Never seen eyes quite like yours. What's an' angel like you doin' here?"

Vermilion put on a fake smile, "Just passing through."

"Oh? Jus' passin' through? Well why don' you come over n' drink with me? Commemorate th' occcashun? He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled, Jaune noticed her stiffen slightly. The blond knight was almost halfway out of his seat when she replied.

"How about a no?"

"No? Why? We're proly more fun than grumpy beard o'er here." The drunk man spat in JAune's direction.

"She said no." Jaune said in a low growl, hoping the man would sense the danger and back off.

He did not.

The drunken man stepped up to Jaune, standing a head shorter than the knight, "Why don' you let the lady speak fer herself, eh?"

"She already said no. Go back to your drinks." He forced his tone to be neutral.

"How about a no." That was it, then, as the man swung his first at Jaune. The blond didn't even bother dodging. The first impacted his jaw with all the force of a wet noodle, his hand crumpling against the knight's aura.

Jaune stepped forward, placing a foot between his legs, and force him down by body checking him. The drunkard cradled his arm, shouting about how his hand was broken or something. The blond knight slapped the lien for the drinks on the counter and started walking out. Vermilion downed the rest of hers and followed after.

"That was pretty cool, Jaune."

He stopped and turned to her, breath fogging in the cool night, "Aura makes a massive difference. In the future you would be wise to remember this night. You could easily kill a civilian with your bare hands. All it would take is a careless punch. Don't make my mistakes."

That seemed to suck all the wind out of her as he turned and strode in the direction of an inn they had rented at.

"You'd better get some rest soon. We have an early day tomorrow. I plan on being at Beacon by midday."

"Will you be staying at Beacon too?"

"No."

Her heart fell a little at the reply. They had only known each other for several days now but he had been the one to save her. Just from simple conversation she could tell the man was hurt. Maybe she didn't know how to help him but she wouldn't get the chance if they never saw each other again. She wasn't so blind she couldn't see the way he looked at her. There was wariness and a little bit of fear. Maybe he thought she hadn't noticed be she had made note of the times he'd had to catch himself, like he was saying too much.

It was frustrating for her. She had so many questions and he barely answered any of them. Her eyes settled on his back as she followed after him, drawing her hood against the chill.

If he didn't want to open up then she'd have to find a prybar.

A/N: So I know I said this wouldn't have a regular schedule but I didn't expect to be updating this so soon. I just kind of sat down thinking "I guess I write some of chapter 2" And then I wrote the whole thing. But hey I'm not complaining I don't think any of you with either.

On another note, I almost forgot to mention it (a reviewer made the connection so it reminded me) This is indeed a story loosely inspired by Old Man Logan. The main credit goes to an artist who did a rendition by the same title as my story inspired by Old Man Logan. I saw the art and thought to myself, "That'd make a great story."

Honestly I'm really surprised at the positive response I got for the first chapter, it got a lot more buzz than I was expecting so thank you all.