So I had a lot of reviews last chapter asking why doesn't Yang simply just show Tai a picture of Crue on her Scroll. Let me answer that with a question of my own:
Would you, at 17 years old, show a protective parental figure a photo of someone of the opposite gender who you were close to? Even if Tai wasn't super protective, I don't think a lot of us would go out of our way to say 'Hey this is a photo of someone I'm friends with'. Like, our parents would immediately do the eyebrow wiggle thing and ask if they're 'just friends'.
Any who, on with the chapter!
Weiss swung Setanta as it struck a bright green ball. The tennis ball machine made for excellent practice with the weapon, as she did not feel able to form the Dust Ball, or the sliotar, as Klein had informed her it was called.
Her house had an indoor tennis court, because of course it did. She thought it a frivolous expense, as she had never seen her Mother or Father play, but right now she was glad it was never in use. She brought Setanta back and prepared to swing with one hand.
With the other, she formed several glyphs at strange angles in midair, as the machine spat out another ball. Weiss swung and connected easily, before watching as the ball ricocheted off the first glyph and into the second, before going completely off track.
"Shit! Oop!" She quickly slapped a hand against her mouth, looking around to make sure she was alone in the room. When she saw she was, she lowered her hand and sighed in relief. She had picked up more than just Crue's weapon from Beacon.
His vocabulary was something that would have left her tutors in shambles had they experienced it first-hand. The thought brought a faint smile to her face, before it faded as she rewound her thoughts.
She had taken Crue's weapon. A Huntsman's weapon was an extension of themselves. You could not be a Huntsman without a weapon, and the weapon you chose dictated everything about how you acted as a Huntsman.
Your fighting style. Your tactics. Even the way you dress. A weapon was a part of you, it was as distinctive as the symbol you chose to bare. And now, Weiss was wielding Crue's weapon without his knowledge.
She hoped he would be ok with it. Though, he probably wouldn't even understand the significance of her actions. That wasn't a slight against his intelligence, she reminded herself, he just seemed to be lacking in knowledge when it came to some of the customs of Huntsmen.
It made sense, given his amnesia. And even if he was aware, Weiss would like to think he would have no issue with her using his weapon. She knew that she would have been fine with him wielding Myrtenaster.
She blinked, going over her thoughts and surprised to find she had no issue with them. Weiss loved Crue. The same way she loved Winter and, now that she had fixed their relationship, Whitley. He was her family, the same way the rest of her team was.
And she still missed them all. She was distracted from her thoughts thanks to the tennis machine activating once again and pelting her in the side of the cheek. "Gah!" She stumbled in shock, before her eyes narrowed into chips of ice.
She picked up the tennis ball that had struck her and tossed it up in the air as she brought Setanta back over her shoulder. While grasping it, she flicked two fingers off the hurl, and a line of black glyphs appeared in front of her.
She swung, connecting with the ball and sending it rocketing through the first glyph, where it dramatically increased in speed. The rest of the glyphs only furthered the acceleration, before the green blur that used to be a tennis ball struck the machine, lodging in the pipe and causing the entire thing to shudder and kick back.
The machine seemed to shake violently, trying to dislodge the blockage. Eventually it gave up, and a hissing noise sounded out while a faint plume of smoke began to rise up slowly. Weiss gave a sigh as she hung her head.
"Well, that will be coming out of my allowance." She slotted Setanta into the holster on her side and approached the machine. It could probably be fixed, she certainly hoped it would be. Otherwise she would just have to have Whitley throw tennis balls at her.
She would have to do the same, as her brother had begun using his own hurley. The wooden one he was gifted by Klein. She wouldn't be lending him Crue's, that was for certain. Her brother had no Huntsmen training whatsoever and giving him a deadly weapon was sure to end poorly.
"Weiss?" Speaking of… Weiss turned from her place before the machine to the entrance to the room, seeing her brother standing in the open doorway. "I thought I would find you here."
"Whitley." She greeted, not unkindly. "What are you doing here?"
"Father is looking for you." The words sent a shiver down Weiss' spine, wondering if she was in trouble. Whitely seemed to notice her fear, and quickly continued. "Klein told me, I don't believe you to be in any trouble."
Weiss let out a sigh of relief, before nodding and walking over to her brother to exit the room. "He was yelling at someone in his study earlier, too. It sounded like a man." It could have been a member of the board, Weiss thought.
"I just wanted to warn you, in case it's one of the higher ups who keep trying to foist their son onto you." There was a look of genuine concern on his face as he spoke, and it had Weiss smiling warmly.
"You've grown since I've been away." Her pale blue eyes were filled with pride as she tilted her head to the side.
Whitley's face turned pink at the praise, as he caught a cough with his fist and turned to his side. "Thank you, Weiss. I, I wish you luck with Father." He gave a small nod, before turning completely and leaving.
Weiss found his actions a bit strange but justified that he was not used to praise that came from a place of genuine affection rather than some kind of ploy to befriend him. Weiss let him leave without any further words, before dusting herself off.
Her waistcoat fit snugly around her, the navy contrasting nicely with the pale blue of her shirt. Her Father would probably have something to say about her appearance, but she couldn't care less about his demands on how to dress.
Weiss made her way through the mansion, taking her time getting to her Father's study. Unfortunately, no matter how slow her pace, she eventually found herself outside the wooden door she had come to dread.
She could hear arguing going on inside, and recognised the raised voice of her Father. She couldn't hear clearly until she cracked open the door, and realised that Whitley had been right that it was a man her Father was arguing with.
"That is a load of garbage and you know it." She wasn't quite sure what General Ironwood was referring to in that instance, but she had almost an instinctive urge to agree with him.
"I beg your pardon?!" Her Father exclaimed. Weiss poked her head through the door completely, seeing General Ironwood sitting across from her Father in the middle of the room, a low table separating the two.
"Jacques." Ironwood groaned. "Will you please just hear me out?"
Jacques did no such thing, instead slamming a glass of something down onto the table in anger as he leaned back into his chair and intertwined his hands. "You are a trusted friend and ally to this family, James. But what you're suggesting is absurd."
"You are blowing it out of proportion."
"The council will never agree to it!" Jacques stood to his feet in anger, his moustache bristling in anger.
"You forget." Ironwood rose calmly, standing much taller than the man before him. "I hold two seats on the council."
"I'm surprised you still hold anything, after the travesty at Galug." Jacques' blue eyes narrowed in anger. "I mean really, a breakout on your watch."
"Attempted breakout." Ironwood clarified with a frown of his own. "The situation was back under control immediately, thanks to the actions of my own men."
Before either man could continue to argue, the door behind Weiss finally clicked shut. The noise caused Weiss to jump slightly, before immediately placing her hands behind her back and standing straight.
"Miss Schnee." Ironwood looked surprised, before apparently realising something. "My apologies, I should have been gone by now." He gave a short bow towards her as he apologised.
"It's ok." Weiss said simply with a small nod to the General.
Ironwood turned to her Father. "We'll continue this, at another time."
"Indeed. Klein can show you out."
"Don't worry." The General chuckled. "I know the way." His words made Weiss wonder how many times he had been at her house without her knowledge. She sidestepped out of the way of Ironwood as he approached and opened the door.
"Until next time, Jacques." He nodded to her Father, before turning to Weiss. "Please know, you'll always have a home at Atlas Academy Miss Schnee." He smiled kindly at her, which only made the bags under his eyes more noticeable.
Weiss watched him go, wondering if the General had slept at all from the last time she had seen him. "Did you forget your manners while you were away?" The voice reminded her of where she was, as she suppressed a roll of her eyes and sighed.
"No, Father. I'm sorry." She said, as her Father made his way to the back of the room, where his own desk stood before a portrait. Of himself.
"Can you believe there are still people in the world that blame Atlas for what happened to Beacon? To Vale?" He asked rhetorically with a gesture of his hand.
"Well, they weren't there." Weiss said, walking over to stand before her Father's desk as he sat down.
"It's a wonder Ironwood wasn't stripped of his rank!" He grumbled, spinning round in his chair and facing away from Weiss. "I suppose the council trusts him, for better or worse."
"I trust him." To an extent, Weiss thought. He still had to make up for arresting Crue just because he thought he was dating Penny.
Her Father sighed as he turned round in his chair. "Thanks to him, Atlas is forbidden from exporting Dust to other Kingdoms! A 'precautionary measure', as he puts it, until we're certain no one is going to declare war."
"How anyone could possibly find that to be sound logic is beyond me." Weiss would not say it aloud, but a part of her agreed with her Father. Atlas was the only Kingdom with a standing army. The idea of anyone declaring war was something far fetched.
But, on the other hand, it wasn't only Kingdoms that could declare war. Dust could be used by anyone for nefarious means, like Cinder. Or the White Fang. "Which is why the Schnee Dust Company will be holding a charity concert in the coming weeks."
Weiss looked to her Father with surprise. Charity was rarely a term to come out of his mouth, unless it was used in a derogatory manner in reference to giving help to the people of Mantle. "We need to show the people of Remnant that we are on their side. That we are all victims of the Fall of Beacon."
"That's… wonderful news!" Weiss was glad to hear that her company would finally be doing something to help. She could actually do something to make up for her failures.
"I know." Jacques looked remarkably self-satisfied with his words. "And I think it would make a lot of people happy if you performed at the event."
Weiss felt the wind taken out of her sails. "Excuse me?"
"Many forget that you were there. My own daughter, a Schnee, on the grounds defending another Kingdom!" Jacques tapped his desk for emphasis as he spoke. Weiss listened to his words carefully, and found that they sounded almost rehearsed. "We need to remind them. And we need to show them that the Schnee family is just as strong as ever."
Weiss held back a scowl as her Father finished his words. "Are you asking me if I'd like to sing, or telling me?" She thought she had finally gotten away from the spotlight, only to be thrust back into it because her Father wanted some good publicity.
"I think it would make a lot of people happy." Her Father pressed the tips of his fingers against one another as he leaned forward with a confident smirk.
With a sigh, Weiss resigned herself to once more being a show pony for her company, instead of being able to do anything that would actually help. "I'll start practicing."
"That's my girl."
Her Father said it with the utmost insincerity. Weiss frowned as she turned, making her way across the room. There was no one else she could talk to about this feeling of being paraded around. Whitley was never front and centre in the media, being the youngest.
Weiss was as alone as ever, her fame now coming back to bite her when she wished she could just find some other way to help. If only she had a friend in Atlas to talk to about it. She suddenly stopped dead as an idea suddenly clicked in her mind.
"Can I invite a friend?" She asked, turning on the spot to look at her Father. He looked surprised, as if he had expected her to just leave without a word.
"A friend?" He repeated questioningly. "My dear, don't you think you're a bit old for 'friends'." He gave a scoff to the side, and Weiss pushed down on the surge of anger that came from him dismissing her friendships.
"And besides, I doubt any of your friends would fit in at such an event."
"Not even Pyrrha Nikos?"
The name dropped, her Father's head snapped back to look at his daughter with narrowed eyes. "Nikos?" He questioned. Even without being involved in Huntsmen circles, he knew the name well.
"Yes. We were quite close at Beacon." A small fib. Pyrrha was her friend, even ignoring how she originally tried to get her on the same team. A part of Weiss cringed internally, looking back on her past self. "And she fought at Beacon as well, and was injured defending it."
Her Father leaned back in his chair, staring at his daughter calculatingly, as if trying to see if this were some ploy. Weiss stared back, seeing the gears turning in her Father's head. Even if this was a ploy of some kind, which Weiss had yet to decide if it was, his mind was slowly beginning to see the pros of inviting her.
Another famous face who fought at Beacon, standing alongside his daughter. Survivors. Fighters. Weiss could practically see him ordering the board to get as many photographs and headlines as possible.
"I think that could be arranged." He said slowly, nodding to himself as he did. "Though, it is not just me you have to convince." He leaned back, expression now smug. "Ironwood is carefully monitoring all entries into Atlas. Why, I daresay even if you were to tell her right this second, she'd be late by a week due to screening."
"If you can convince James, you can invite your… friend."
His piece said, he gestured for Weiss to leave. She turned on her heel and quickly made her way towards the door, closing it behind her and nearly running into someone. "Oh! Goodness, Miss Schnee!" Klein deftly moved the tray he had been holding out of the way.
"Klein!" Weiss quickly took in the fact he had brought some hot coffee, presumably to warm her up after being in her Father's drafty study. That fact alone already made her feel a little warm inside. "I'm sorry!"
"Not a worry, my dear. You seem to be in quite the rush. Is something the matter?" He asked.
"Has General Ironwood left yet? I need to speak with him. Quickly." She hadn't seen Pyrrha since the night Beacon fell, when Ruby's Uncle appeared, staggering out of the tower, carrying his niece in his arms and helping Pyrrha walk on a damaged leg.
She didn't even get to properly find out what happened, the minute they appeared Weiss was focused solely on making sure they got to the evacuation point. She had never been so exhausted, nor had she ever killed so many Grimm.
"I believe he should still be within the manor, but he might be walking out the door as we speak-" Weiss was already running, sprinting down the hallway as fast as she could given her heels. She ignored how ridiculous the noise that came from the action was.
She sounded like a horse trying to ice skate. Especially when she skid around a corner to enter the large foyer that served as the entrance to her house. She caught a glimpse of Ironwood about to leave through the double doors, currently being held open by a butler.
"General Iron-woah!" Weiss began, before tripping on the carpeted stairs as she tried to grab onto the banister. Her exclamation caught the General's attention, as he spun around in time to see Weiss desperately holding onto the carved marble with one foot well ahead of the other.
"Miss Schnee!" Ironwood quickly made his way over, worried that Weiss may have injured herself. "Are you alright?"
"I need a friend!"
"I beg your pardon." Ironwood paused at the foot of the stairs, looking at Weiss with a confused frown.
Weiss froze, her brain catching up with her mouth as she suddenly burned pink. "I-I misspoke!" She fixed herself and stood properly. "I wish to invite a friend to Atlas, for the SDC Charity Ball. And I wanted to speak to you about it."
Ironwood still looked somewhat confused. "Jacques told me about the Ball. I'm afraid I don't see how I can be of assistance." He waited, as Weiss made her way down to him. She left a few steps between them, so she could be at eye level with the General.
"My friend is not currently in Atlas."
"Ah. I see." Ironwood frowned slightly, realising what he was being asked. "You want me to expedite your friend's travel to Atlas."
"Yes." Weiss winced as she said it, realising she was essentially using her position to try and push for special treatment.
"Miss Schnee, I would have expected this from your father, but from you I am surprised." Ironwood sounded almost disappointed, and Weiss found herself flinching at his words.
"I understand what it looks like, but I promise it is not just for my own personal reasons." She took a deep breath, and spoke. "I wish to invite Pyrrha Nikos to the charity event."
Ironwood's eyebrow raised so far it was in danger of hitting the strip of silver metal above his eye. "Nikos?" He seemed to hesitate, as if he knew something Weiss didn't. Her pale blue eyes narrowed immediately, wondering what it was he knew.
"Yes. I haven't seen her since Beacon fell." She explained. "And the last I saw her, she was being escorted from the tower by Mr. Branwen. After doing battle with Cinder Fall." She wasn't sure what Ruby's Uncle was doing up the top of the tower, but the fact he brought her friends down safely gave him some points in her book.
Ironwood's eyes widened a fraction at her words. "She fought against…" He trailed off, frowning as he gave a hum of consideration. "You make a persuasive argument, Miss Schnee. Miss Nikos is from Argus, correct?"
When Weiss nodded, he continued. "Then it would be remarkably easy to accomplish such a thing. I'm afraid communication between Kingdoms is still down, so the only way to ask her would be via mail."
"That is no issue. I used to write to Winter often." The fact this was actually working gave Weiss a feeling of such euphoria that she felt she could write a hundred letters if even one of them managed to get to Pyrrha.
"Yes. She always looked forward to your letters." Ironwood managed a soft smile, one that had Weiss brimming with happiness on the inside. Her sister looked forward to her letters. That was amazing! She was going to get a good grade in writing to her sister! Something both normal to want and possible to achieve!
"I would be happy to extend an invitation to Pyrrha." Weiss said, with what felt like remarkable self-control given the situation. She could finally meet up with a friend, one she hadn't seen since Beacon fell. Someone to talk to, someone who could understand her plight. "Do you know how long such a letter might take to get to Argus?"
"Under normal circumstances, possibly just under a month." Ironwood answered, and Weiss felt her hopes dashed. That wouldn't be enough time. "But…" The General continued. "I think bringing Miss Nikos to Atlas would be beneficial for the both of us."
"You want to talk to her about what happened on the tower." "I do." Ironwood did not deny it. "Information on the enemy is always a boon, and as Miss Nikos was able to survive against Fall, her insight would be most useful."
Weiss frowned slightly, wondering how Pyrrha would feel if she knew the only reason she might be getting to Atlas with ease was so she could be interrogated. "May I tell her what to expect in advance?"
"Of course." Ironwood nodded. "Within reason. I can have the letter delivered relatively soon, but erring on the side of caution is always a wise decision." His words brought a wave of relief over Weiss, as well as a small trickle of confusion.
"I thought you said it would take just under a month to get a letter to Pyrrha. How would you be able to deliver it so soon?" She asked.
Ironwood gained a small smirk. "Let's just say I happen to know an amazing Courier."
…
"~No one dared to ask his business. No one dared to make a slip, for the stranger there amongst them had a Big Iron on his hip.~" "What on Remnant are you singing?"
Crue blinked, coming out of his own world and refocusing as Elm stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh. Song from a game I used to play. It had a banger soundtrack."
"I will never understand the slang of today's youth." Vine murmured.
"How even old are you? What? How old even are you?" Crue questioned, then corrected himself, bringing a hand up to scratch the side of his head. His hands were still free and gauntleted, as when the Ace-Ops tried to tie him up once again, he pointed out he'd just end up getting away and taking another of their bolas with him.
They decided to wait until they regrouped with the others. "Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady their age." Piped up Tortuga from behind him. They were in the same pincer manoeuvre for escorting a prisoner that he had seen many times before.
"Says the one who pretended to be a teenager for an undercover assignment." Vine turned his head back to, presumably, raise an eyebrow in challenge to Tortuga. Crue's head whipped around so fast he got whiplash as he stared at the Faunus with a dropped jaw that still somehow looked like he was smiling.
"Do not bring up that damn mission." Tortuga hissed, shrinking into her shell already. "It was a Faunus disco that was suspected of being a front for a drug trade."
"Oh, like the bar me and Hare found?" Tortuga nodded at Crue's words, as Elm made a short noise of realisation.
"Hey, you never told us that story." She turned round, walking backwards to look at Crue while trusting Vine to warn her should she run into anything. They were currently walking through a pink forest that reminded Crue of the Sakura trees of his own world.
"Story?" Tortuga questioned, as Elm gained a smirk.
"Yeah, apparently Crue knows one named after you and Harriet."
"Oh, that fuckin' thing." Crue gave a sigh as he let his head lol back and stare through the pink leaves. "Yeah, sure may as well." He concentrated for a moment, remembering how the story went.
"One day in a forest, a Hare was making fun of the Tortoise for being so slow." Crue began.
"I can see how this made you think of Harriet." Elm chuckled, turning around and walking properly, while still listening to Crue's story. He couldn't help but smirk in agreement.
" 'Do you ever get anywhere?' The Hare asked the Tortoise. 'Yes.' He replied. Tired of the Hare's arrogance, he continued. 'And I get there sooner than you think. I'll run you a race and prove it.' " Crue tried to remember where he first learned the fable. It might have been when he was in primary school, or he could have seen a version of it on TV.
"The Hare was much amused at the idea of running a race with the Tortoise, but for the fun of it, he agreed. So, they got… I think it was the Fox?" Crue paused for a moment, trying to recall the story properly.
"Yeah, pretty sure. Anyway. The Tortoise and the Hare got the Fox to act as a judge, and mark the distance of the race. It was a very long race, and the Hare was confident he would win. The race started, and the runners were off."
"The Hare was soon far out of sight, and to make the Tortoise understand just how ridiculous it was for him to try and race with the Hare, he lay down beside the course to take a nap until the Tortoise caught up."
"Meanwhile, the Tortoise kept going slowly but steadily and eventually passed by where the Hare was resting. But the Hare kept on sleeping. And when he finally woke up, the Tortoise was near the goal. The Hare ran as fast as he could, but couldn't overtake the Tortoise in time."
"Slow and steady wins the race." Crue finished with a nod.
"Wait, that's the moral?" Elm asked. "It's not 'Don't get overconfident'?"
"I thought it was 'Don't fall asleep on the job'." Tortuga countered. The two argued over the correct interpretation, while Crue found his sweat dropping.
"Maybe telling that one to military people wasn't the best idea." He thought, before noticing Vine remaining quiet as he held a hand to his chin in contemplation.
"Oi, Stretch Armstrong, care to pitch in?" He asked, causing Elm and Tortuga to fall silent and look to their companion.
Crue saw Vine's head make a motion, and could practically see him rolling his eyes. "Many people have good natural abilities, which are ruined by idleness. On the other hand, sobriety, zeal and perseverance can prevail over indolence."
"Alright Socrates." Crue shook his head in amusement. "Honestly, that's the closest thing to what I said, so I'm saying you're right." His words were met with immediate disagreement from Tortuga and Elm.
As they argued, Crue noticed they were exiting the forest, and entering a large clearing. He, along with the rest of the Ace-Ops, quickly took in their surroundings to make sure they were in no danger. When they saw they were safe, they got back to arguing.
Off to the east, Crue could make out what appeared to be a mountain, though he had trouble gauging the distance. "Hey, Vine. You seem like the philosophical sort." Crue spoke up, causing the man in question to turn around in surprise.
"I would like to think so, yes." He nodded, looking at Crue sceptically.
"Well, here's one for you. If a Grimm dies in a forest, and there's no one around to see it, does it make a sound?"
The question caused Vine to bring a hand to his chin in thought. "What kind of Grimm is it? Cause that might change the answer." Elm asked.
"Uhhh…" Crue droned out, trying to think of an answer that would be suitable. "I don't know, a fuckin'… Spinetrap?"
"I don't believe-" "What the Hell is a Spinetrap?" Tortuga asked from behind Crue, interrupting Vine's explanation.
"A big fuck-off Grimm with a huge sail on it's back." Crue waved a hand along his spine of emphasis. "It could open up into this massive fucking mouth that was just, packed with teeth." He threw his hands out with his fingers pointing sharply upward.
"You mean a Spinomaw?" Elm's eyes were wide.
"That's what it's called?" Crue rose an eyebrow in surprise. "Huh, suppose that suits it pretty well. Yeah, sure, that yoke dies in a forest with no one around."
"The possibility of unperceived existence is a conundrum." Vine said aloud, ignoring the Grimm chosen for the question. "If no one is around to see, hear or touch the Grimm, how could it be said to exist. Ignoring the fact that the Grimm itself is most likely aware of its own existence, to say something does not exist simply because we are not around to perceive it is quite arrogant."
"Huh, nice one." Crue gave a nod in agreement. "There's another one about a ship, if you're interested." He was looking off to the side, observing the mountain in the distance.
"I might be." Vine seemed eager to see what Crue had to say. Meanwhile, Elm gave a roll of her eyes and focused forward, while Tortuga yawned loudly.
"Ironwood's flagship. Wait, does it have a name?" He looked round briefly, waiting on an answer.
"If you are referring to the one that crashed at the Fall of Beacon, it was known as Blue One." Vine answered.
"Really?" Crue blinked in surprise. "I thought it'd be called, I don't know, Persistence or something. Anyway." He gave a wave of his hand, dismissing the better names he could think of for a battleship.
"Blue One is an airship. Over time its parts rust and wear and are replaced with new material. When no original piece remains, is it still Blue One?" He heard Vine make an inquisitive hum, thinking it over.
"Then, if those removed pieces are restored, and reassembled free of damage, is that Blue One?"
"How do you come up with these?" Elm asked over her shoulder.
"I'm not that smart." Crue gave a snort. "The place I grew up had a lot of really old books, cause they couldn't afford better ones. Or didn't care to get better ones." He gave a shrug. The orphanage was a shithole, yes, but it had a lot of interesting things to read.
It's why he had so much knowledge of the fairy tales his friends were inspired by. Crue frowned slightly, as he caught himself thinking of this world as a show once again. "It was all a coincidence. One Hell of a fucking coincidence, but one all the same."
The Author himself said so, that through whatever stroke of luck his world managed to recreate this one as a show. That meant this world wasn't a show. It was real. Though, Crue figured that was the case once he saw everyone here was not animated.
"Do you have any further queries, Crue?" Vine asked, bringing Crue out of his thoughts as Tortuga groaned from behind him.
"Ugh, all this philosophical talk is making me tired." She gave a yawn, angling her head skyward as she rested it on her arms.
"Alright, just one more then." Crue said, checking that both Vine and Elm were facing forward.
"If no one responds to a captive's jokes, is he still there?"
Vine gave a small chuckle at that. "Your jokes, while occasionally humorous, do not correlate to your existence." He shook his head, waiting for Crue to give his rebuttal.
It never came.
That fact caused Vine to whirl round. Crue was gone. "Where-what-how?!" He found himself stammering as he stared at where the Faunus had just been. His ramblings caused Elm to turn round and Tortuga to drop her head back down.
"WHAT?! HE WAS JUST THERE!" Elm exclaimed, her head suddenly jerking every which way to try and see where Crue had run off to.
"I looked away for five seconds!" Tortuga's orange eyes were wide as she stared at the spot where Crue had been.
"How did he-" "HE'S THERE!" Elm exclaimed, jabbing a finger into the distance. The Ace-Ops followed her direction, and felt their chances of catching Crue plummet.
"IS HE FLYING?!" The three took off in a dead sprint after Crue, who was, as they had exclaimed, seemingly flying.
That could not be further from the truth, however, as Crue was not flying. He had concentrated on the mountain in the distance and activated his Semblance. He wasn't flying… He was falling.
With styl- "FUCKING STOP ALREADY!" Crue was rapidly approaching the mountain and was unable to stop or slow down at all. Instead, he tried focusing on the slope and began to angle himself. "GOD I HOPE THIS WORKS!"
Crue began to run in mid-air, or make the motion of doing so at least, as he hit the side of the mountain. And continued to run. "HAHAHA!" He threw his arms in joy as he ran with a whoop of joy. "I WAS RIGHT!"
He descended the mountain several steps at a time with a mad grin on his face. He had escaped the Ace-Ops once more, reached new distances with his Semblance, and was now well on his way to making it to Haven.
"I think." Crue managed to slow down enough to actually look around. He had no idea where he was, or what direction he was meant to head in.
Crue gave a soft sigh as he came to a complete stop.
"Shit."
Crue once again gives the Ace-Ops the slip, and Weiss has a few ideas of her own. This chapter was fun to write, mostly trying to think of how certain philosophical questions would have to be changed to fit in with Remnant's world. And Vine absolutely seems the type to know all these things.
I remember getting a review early on saying that I hope I make Weiss stand up for herself more than in canon, and don't worry, I plan on doing just that. But, it might take a bit to show off just how much more she does. Though this is a good starting off point.
I actually had someone PM me asking if I had a patron or any way to support me to help keep the motivation for the story going. I don't, currently, but I might make a Kofi or something if you guys are interested in that kind of thing. Let me know.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know if you did, and as always...
Until Next Time
-Friday