Chapter 10: Kids Know Best

"That's my uncle!"

— 17 —

It felt a lot like taking a good piss only to spritz a little in your jeans when you zipped up your fly. They'd dragged me from the high of victory to a room at Beacon marked "Conference Room 3."

But blondie here was a goddamn golden shower.

"Do you know why you're here right now?" Goodwitch said in a terse voice. She adjusts her glasses and returned her arms to an angry fold.

I barely focused, instead waving my heavily bandaged right arm before my face like I was coming off laughing gas. The ambulance staff had removed my hoodie and armor to get at my wounds. The diagnoses had sent me into a painful giggling fit.

She snapped her fingers. "I'm talking to you, Jaune Arc. Pay attention."

Acute Dust inhalation, several first and second degree burns, a nearly ruptured eardrum, partially dislocated shoulder, torn stitches, bad bruising on my back and underarm, several grazing furrows on my right arm, and hairline fractures on my right knuckles.

That wasn't the funny part, no. That came when they said I was "more or less fine" and "would make a full recovery in a few days, a week or two at most."

So they'd bandaged me up as best as they could and had the decency to give me a light dose of morphine. I'd added some clove cigarette self medication when people from Beacon had collected me from Johnny Law's presence.

"After all those girls I slept with, the Committee has finally decided to name that new STD after me?" I suggested with a shrug.

"No," she said evenly.

"Is this about replacing Ruby Rose's toothpaste with a candy gel in the hopes she unknowingly develops the gum disease known as gingivitis?"

She stared.

I snapped my fingers. "Ah, silly me! After my heroic performance out there tonight, you've finally come to apologize for yelling at me after I purposefully dislocated that girl's ankle during your sparring class."

In my defense, she was dumb enough to agree to start the spar with a "friendly handshake." Plus I didn't want to die to that spiked whip she had.

"I see why so many students have a low opinion of you, Mr. Arc," she said sharp enough to make me wince. I'd've probably withered if not for the magic of morphine. "But no, this is about you, last night, and why you should be lucky Beacon has great insurance."

"Doesn't someone I know have a semblance that can fix that?" I tapped at my chin in thought.

"That was thousands of Lien in property damage you've caused," she went on. "I was able to fix most of the damage, but I can't make Dust from nothing, Mr. Arc."

I met her eyes and shrugged. This interrogation room was dark. I was still shirtless but for the gauze around my chest and arm. "We stopped those terrorists, didn't we? Stand Your Ground laws and all that. Plus there'd be way more Dust lost if we'd let them get away!"

"Mm, yes, you're just such good citizens. Just so happened to be at the right place at the right time, you and team BASS," Goodwitch said, tossing a gray folder on the table before me. She made a rolling gesture with her hand.

I leaned forwards (ouch, sore!) and opened it up.

My heart sank into my balls and shriveled my scrotum. Grayscale photos of me crossing a police line, sneaking into a dust store, and manipulating files on the security computer. Blotches danced across my vision as I looked back up at her and her deep, deep frown.

"How?" I whispered.

She snorted. "What, did you think emptying the digital trash bin permanently erases anything?"

I wiped sweat off my brow, saying nothing.

"So why did you think it was a good idea to commit a felony? You didn't even try to send the information as an anonymous tip, which, while still despicable, would at least be something. But no. You convince your team to go along with you and play vigilantes. Stop me if I'm wrong."

I stared at my lap. "Ozpin, he found me and…"

"No, you're not blaming this on anyone else. This is your fault, Mr. Arc. You committed a felony. You're team leader."

Wait, I was? Officially speaking, I mean. I kinda thought it was Blake.

"And you orchestrated this, Jaune Arc," she finished.

I tapped into some well in my breast and gave her a sharp look. "If you know this, then so do the police." My voice was shakier than I would have liked. Made me sound like a child making up excuses. "Meaning the only reason they didn't take me away with the White Fang is because it'd look bad for Beacon. You pulled strings, right?"

Her lips tightened to almost anal proportions. "Don't play smart, Jaune Arc. It doesn't suit you."

"It wouldn't be the first time he's tried unexpected suits," a very tall man said, stepping from the shadows. I jumped back, nearly knocking my chair over. "He has a very bizarre sense of fashion at times."

Ozpin. How long had he been there?

Oh wait, no, there's a door. Shit, how much morphine had they given me?

Seeing Beacon's headmaster made me sit up taller and set my jaw. It steamed away the anxiety Goodwitch gave me like water under the Mojave sun.

"There you are, sir. I was wondering how long this Life on Mars shtick was gonna last. Glad to see the red planet's got three."

Ozpin gestured his cane at me, looking at Goodwitch. "There he goes again. Not what we expected from his transcripts, is it?"

Goodwitch pursed her lips. "Yes. His exemplarily adequate transcripts." She shot me a little look, like she knew something I didn't and wanted me to figure out what.

I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "Of course they are. I would know just like y'all do—wrote 'em myself, after all. And between you and me, the first daft was in red crayon." I winked.

Her entire face tightened like she'd just OD'd on botox.

The Headmaster leaned on his cane, his expression oddly relaxed in a casual, 'I am in complete control here' way. He regarded me for several moments before saying anything. I met his eyes as petulantly defiant as I could.

"Why do you suspect we've allowed you to remain a student, knowing all that?" Ozpin finally said, slowly waking to my side of the table.

"Well, the fact that I still have a functioning liver after all I done to it speaks highly of my aura's potency."

"An aura I'm told you don't have active."

I couldn't tell if that was a threat or an offer of help. Either way the tone said it in made me bristle. "And yet I still survived the Emerald Forest, launched at least two Grimm into the stratosphere using nothing but a parachute, and personally lead the assault on a gang of armed terrorists—none of which has seen me deign to back off or call it quits."

"Good to know you understand how reckless you are."

"Yeah," I said, unimpressed. "So let's not pretend you don't know all of this, Headmaster. Maybe we just skip the mind games and get to the part where you yell at me, or try to teach me some object lesson about teamwork, or coming up with a better pornstar name for myself."

He studied me for another moment, doubtlessly trying to make me squirm. Trying to subtly take control like an army of step-dads. People like him do this. I fully admit that I can't play the game like he does. I'm an overeager motormouth who wasn't nearly as good with people. What I can do is recognize what's happening and call it out, try to throw off the other guy's groove.

"Aren't you a barrel of surprises," Ozpin said thoughtfully.

"I'm just spontaneous," I said, examining my nails.

"And yet coordinated enough to mix and make high explosives, steal police evidence, and convince your team to go along with you to fight terrorists."

"I bullied them into doing it," I said.

"How did you manage that?"

"I'm like a bully magician. I can't just reveal my tricks like that. But, if'n ya wanna know, just ask the last guy who crossed me." I cracked my knuckles. "Let's just say he's not gay by choice anymore."

"That's not a choice," Goodwitch added with a sigh.

I paused. "Shit. Alright. Did not think that one through."

"A phrase I wonder if we'll be hearing a lot more often before the night is through." Ozpin drolled, smirking.

"My mind is like an internet browser," I said defensively, quoting something I half-remembered. "Seventeen tabs are open, six of them are videos I swear I'll watch later, and I don't know where the music's coming from."

"And let me guess. The browser extensions weren't carrying viruses when you scanned them?"

"Extensions," I scoffed. "If you think I'm gonna download anything on Beacon's sub-par wifi when I'm safely behind seven Vacuo proxies, you're sadly underestimating my patience. I've been forced to use the shower and my imagination for weeks now, sir!"

Sir. There I went out calling him that out of pure reflexive habit.

Looming over me, he pushed up his glasses. "Funny. You'd think being at the base of the CCT tower would give us the best speed in the kingdom, wouldn't it, Jaune?"

I folded my hands on the table. "I am for one honored that you are low-key implying that I'm the one who turned the entire library into a cryptocurrency mining operation."

I swear I'm actually pretty competent in my brief trips into sobriety.

"You enjoy presuming to speak for me," he said.

"I just know how you think," I replied, shrugging. "Personally, it's an abstract kind of hell."

"How old are you, Jaune?"

I hesitated for a split second too long, trying to actually recall. Nineteen, twenty-two? No, I'd been fifteen. Like my actual name, I couldn't place which was true and which wasn't. Ultimately, it didn't matter anymore than the sleeve whose eyes I lived through. That's who I was. A broken, cognitohazard'd version of that sleeve, but that sleeve nonetheless.

All hail the new flesh.

I loosened my lips and let Jaune speak for me. The same way I tapped into his pre-programmed combat conditioning to figure out how to use his sword and shield, and the opposite way I drew on my other self to operate my revolver.

"Seventeen, sir." Before he could reply, I was already cutting him off. "And yes, I get it. Arrogance of youth. Writers been lamenting the poor moral character of their kids for thousands of years now. I know how the song and dance goes."

Ozpin eyed me for a moment, then shrugged almost happily. "Professor Goodwitch, I believe we've said all we have to say to young Mr. Arc."

Goodwitch looked thrown off, but nodded. When he gave her a look, she said, "We have?"

"Naturally," he said with a smile. "He already knows what we're going to say, so of course he knows the outcome of his conversation."

I frowned.

"I must say, Mr. Arc, predicting those therapy sessions, sobriety tracker, and a mandatory parent-teacher conference between myself and your parents—that sort of foresight is why we made you team leader in the first place. Hopefully you will soon earn it back, given how understanding you were about relinquishing the spot."

My stomach dropped. "Wha'?"

"Inform Vale police that he's agreed to forgo a trial in lieu of his confession," Ozpin said, not even looking at me. "Tell them we're glad they're willing to commute the sentence to community service, to be served at our discretion."

I stood up. "Wait, wait, now hold on!"

Ozpin looks over his shoulder at me, unconcerned. "Something else to add, Mr. Arc?"

"I—!" I tried, searching for some clever retort, some way to dig myself out of this one.

But all I could do is clench my fist, grit my teeth, and stare at Ozpin.

I didn't know why it pissed me off like this. It was the principle of the thing. Like when this holier-than-thou fuck had waltzed into my room in the foundry and told me he expected better.

On some level, I knew what he was doing. But on a stronger level, I didn't care. I wanted to jump forwards and strangle him. After drowning myself in enough whiskey first, of course. Before he can force some sobriety tracker on me.

To say nothing of meeting my parents! Christ alive that's bound to be such a shitshow.

I needed more morphine.

I fell back down into my chair.

"No, sir," I said, glaring up at him.

He flashed a smirk. "Very good, Mr. Arc."

Ozpin and Goodwitch left me there alone in the room. Eventually the last tendrils of morphine interlaced their fingers with my exhaustion, and I fell asleep there in the chair.

a/n: Get rekt, Jaune d'Arc