A Dustmas in Vacuo

1st Part

Vacuo, The Queen's Retreat resort

"Happy Dustmas, dear guests, ("""Happy Dustmas to you, too!""") and welcome to the Queen's Retreat, the finest resort on Vacuo's southern coast ("Huh, I had a thought. Is there a King's Retreat, and how does it compare?").

"I see that we have your reservations here. If you like, our bellhops can take your luggage to your rooms so you can enjoy our amenities right away ("No thanks, we've got our own gopher." "Hey!"). We can offer you a quick tour of the resort before showing you to your rooms, to let you know about some of the highlights the brochures don't do justice to ("More talking?" "Shhh! Be nice, sis!" "Yeah, he's just being helpful. Let him.").

"As an aside, since you've arrived in the afternoon, I would like to give you a small heads up that while the weather today is a mild 82 degrees ("It's a mild what degree!?" "My skin's, like, so going to dry out!"), it will rapidly drop to the low 50's in a couple of hours as the day turns to evening. Some of our guests in the past have found themselves unprepared for this change while they were enjoying the beach, so we let everyone know beforehand ("""Thank you!""")..."

The concierge stopped in the middle of his speech. Eyes closed, he began taking deep breaths, leaving the trio of Jaune, Melanie, and Miltia to look at him in perplexed silence. Jaune sent a worried glance to Uncle Hei, only to see the man watching over the scene with amusement.

After a minute, the employee recovered his composure. This time, though, his smile seemed a little more brittle as he looked at the three of them, with the corner of his mouth twitching at time.

Has he lost his nerves? How unprofessional. He must be new to the job.

Let it not be said that Jaune was heartless. What the inexperienced concierge needed right here, right now, was a few tips from a veteran in the art of excellent service. Who better, than Jaune himself? He sidled over, ready to impart Service Lesson #01 to help a brother out.

He never got the chance, because Miltia had grabbed his right hand, and Melanie his left.

"Jaune, let's go over to that balcony. It's perfect for a selfie!"

"Whoooa, we can rent a boat! Come on, gopher, we're checking that out."

They proceeded to drag him along, one going right, one heading left, each girl heedless of the other's actions. In between, Jaune experienced the life of a rope pulled taut to its limit. Without an inch more of give in his limbs, equal opposing forces led to equal reactions. The twins took another step and were yanked off-balance.

Jaune tried to catch them on reflex, but that proved unnecessary. Dancers' grace allowed them to stay on their feet, executing ballet spins. A pivot, a twist of their hips just so, and they twirled in synchronicity as if it were a performance. Smoothly, the pirouettes terminated and sisters stood scowling face to scowling face.

Immediate and vicious argument ensued.

"How short-sighted can you be? We can take pictures anytime, but there might be the perfect deal waiting for us, lost right at this moment because someone can't plan more than five seconds ahead!"

"At least I'm not the spoiled brat dreaming of a yacht for Dustmas. Do you want Santa to bring you a convertible too, light blue?" Miltia presented her camera with a flourish. "It's far better to enjoy the little things in life, like good memories."

"Good memories, huh? Then picture this. Front row view of a golden sunset over the open waters. Dolphins leaping so close that you can, like, reach out and pet them. Precious enough of a photo for you? Think, Mil, think!"

"That-, uh-" Jaune almost applauded Melanie for that one. Well-reasoned and tailored for her opponent, it left Miltia looking torn, clearly inclined to agree. She rallied. "Well, what about Jaune? You know he can't stand moving vehicles. He might get sick again."

"Hey! I handled the trip here well enough."

"S-see? Jaune isn't bothered. We shouldn't, either." Melanie herself did not seem fully convinced by his claim, though. "Hmph! Really shows how much faith you have in him, putting Jaune down like that."

Weren't they talking about a boat?

"I was not, you liar! Jaune, I said all that because I was concerned for you and not, like, trying to be mean." She waited for his response, and he nodded to show he understood. Satisfied, she turned back to glare at her sister. "But don't you think that Mel here has been really selfish? She didn't hesitate to dismiss your pain. Such a cruel bitch."

It devolved into insults and snarls from there. By the time a third, impartial party (i.e. Jaune) managed to hash out a ceasefire, arms and legs were chambered for simultaneous strikes.

He advocated the adage of business before pleasure, and got them to agree on the rental office as the first stop. Melanie turned out to be correct, though not in a way that made her happy. The reasonably-priced boats were booked solid for the entirety of their stay. What remained were the true top-on-the-line experience…with their corresponding sky high prices. Even with their sizable budget, the three of them balked at the cost for a few hours' worth of the sea life. Melanie had to sate her curiosity with mere window-shopping.

Strolling along in the wake of the Malachites, Jaune paid careful attention to their comments on the yachts. He filed the information away for later.

Next, they detoured up the atrium's grand staircase, and out the open doors connecting the landing to a spacious balcony. It afforded them a view of the resort and the beach beyond. Miltia was thrilled with the sprawling, picturesque layout of what had once been a queen's summer palace. White walls and red roofs shone brightly in the afternoon light. Ornamental fountains dotted the area, their sounds soothing and melodic. From their vantage point, they spied the tops of courtyard gardens, denoting private oases no doubt filled with plants and flowers of all kinds. An artificial stream ran through the resort, its water glittering under the sun. Miltia got her perfect selfie, plus a few dozen other pictures.

In quite good cheer, they returned to the lobby area. Jaune waved to Uncle Hei sitting at the bar, the man having ordered a drink while he settled in to wait for them. The concierge, nursing his own drink, spotted the teens. He appeared to be in the throes of a headache, rubbing his forehead before sighing deeply. The man downed the glass in hand and got to his feet.

"So, how about that tour?"

Ah. He knew he forgot something. A glance at Melanie and Miltia revealed sheepish expressions.

"Sure, I think we've done everything we wanted here."

The twins nodded in agreement. Uncle Hei, on the other hand, interrupted.

"You know what, why don't we have the bellhops lead us straight to our rooms?" He set his empty glass on the bar counter. Standing up, he stretched his arms and legs. "I could really use a nap."

Oh, hey, there's that odd twitching again.

While following the porters, Jaune gave one last look at the concierge. He inclined his head in apology to the man for having to leave him in the metaphorical cold. As much as he wanted to stop and share a few much-needed lessons, Jaune came to this resort with a mission on his mind.

If he wanted this trip to succeed, it would be best to dedicate his attention to what really matters.

-o-

The first place they arrived at was where Uncle Hei would stay, located in a wing of the main palace. Upon entering, Jaune experienced a pang of regret, thinking that he should have opted for the same. It might be a departure from his preferences, but there was something to be said for period accuracy when it came to a palace.

As befit royalty —or royalty's guests, at the very least— the room was a study in stately opulence circa two hundred years ago, retaining the sort of décor that was used in the time of the resort's namesake. He wagered the furniture were reproductions, too new to be real antiques, but that simply meant that everything looked as they should instead of being worn-down wrecks. Purple featured prominently, accented with white. Plush and cool to the touch, the couches and armchairs matched well with the climate.

Uncle Hei took it all in stride, the very image of a man accustomed to this level of class.

…He maintained the façade for about ten seconds. Then, the man made a beeline for the four-poster bed, giddy as a child on Dustmas. Jumping high in the air, he flopped down on the center of the mattress. A groan that bordered on the obscene was his mark of approval for the bed's quality.

Jaune walked to the other side of the room, and threw open the glass doors to let in the sea breeze. He took a step out on the private terrace, and another spark of longing struck him. Tiled to form the image of a sea floor, coupled with a fantastic view, this was the kind of place he can spend hours lounging on. It even included a staircase off to the side where employees can deliver food and drink straight to the guest.

Envyyyy.

When the bellhops suggested they lead the younger crowd to their lodgings, Jaune, Melanie, and Miltia promptly nodded agreement. Getting away from here sounded like a good idea; much longer, and they might very well give in to the mutinous urge of commandeering these quarters.

As the trio exited the room, Uncle Hei raised his head off the bed to call after them.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Coming from a crime lord, that was pretty much him giving them carte blanche to do whatever they please.

Nice.

-o-

On second thought, Uncle Hei can keep his dated quarters full of luxuries for old people.

Jaune's regrets vanished with the wind when he saw where he would sleep, his mood improving by magnitudes. Unlike his uncle's place in the main resort, he and the twins chose a different area much closer to the water.

The bellhops had taken them on a wooden path leading out over the sands until it reached a pier. Jutting out over the water, the pier wrapped a curving path to reconnect with the beach further down, forming a half-circle. Lining its outer side was a modern take on an old classic.

Beach cabins.

Moreover, beach cabins with amenities, designed for helpless civilized people. Each hut included plumping, heating, air conditioning, mini-fridge, full bathroom, a mounted holo-screen that they can hook their scrolls into, a cable to enable lightning-speed scrollnet access, and so on. The basics, really.

That the staff would deliver, via scooter, a full menu of items on request at any time was just icing on top.

Once he finished checking in on his scroll games, Jaune looked over the rest of the twins' cabin in detail. The first thing he noticed was that he could see the outside, and he did not only mean the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out to sea, but the other three walls too.

He dipped his head out the door to observe the cabin's exterior. There stood a dark, smooth wall. Try as he might, Jaune failed to see anything through it. He ducked his head inside. The resort was visible through a dim, yet still transparent, surface. The walls consisted of one-way glass. Useless, but so, so cool that Jaune liked it on principle.

His ears picked up a soft *click*, and cool air began blowing above his head. He turned around to see that Miltia had gotten her hands on a remote. Along with Melanie, she fiddled with the different buttons. Jaune joined them in the huddle.

An errant press of a button cut off their ocean view when the window became as dark as the other three sides. Adjusting a nearby slider gradually turn it clear again. The window could be as transparent or opaque as they preferred, perfect to keep out pesky sunlight in the morning. Or through the whole day, too, if one were so inclined.

The remote controlled pretty much any kind of technology in the cabin, and let the guests create their desired environment. It did carry a bit of a design flaw in how most buttons were labeled by symbols rather than words, leading to half the things they tried to activate showing no apparent effects. There's probably a manual somewhere in here, but where's the fun in that? Each press brought with it a sense of discovery, of adventure.

Melanie soon noticed an icon of a fish inside a rectangle and could not resist the impulse to find out what it did. A tap, and the floor below them disappeared. Oops.

Instincts kicked into gear. The sisters had already leapt for safety; they landed on the bed. Jaune, being slower and heavier, accepted that he would fall in the drink. He inhaled a hasty breath of air. Time for a dip.

A couple seconds of absolute stillness later, Jaune peeked down at the floor section that had seemingly vanished, seeing glass beneath his feet. Below that, an underwater view. The clear space at the center of the cabin turned out to use the same material as the window and, demonstrated by accident, similarly featured adjustable transparency. He gave a few good stomps to make sure it was solid.

Deeming it safe, Melanie and Miltia rolled off the bed to join him. The three oohed and ahhed at the fishies swimming past the floor.

This architectural design spoke to the hermit in him. Looking forward, a panoramic vista of bright blue sea. Looking down, a vision of the world under the waves. Both could be enjoyed from the comfort of a soft bed in a temperature-controlled room.

Can he spend the rest of his life, living in this shut-in's paradise?

-o-

A clap rang out in the Malachites' cabin, where the trio had congregated after checking out Jaune's identical lodging next door. Melanie's voice followed suit.

"Okay, game plan! Like the doorman said, the beach might be out for today unless we want to freeze our butts off. I'm thinking you and me, Mil, can do a bit of shopping —*whisper* You know, for our surprise?*whisper*— Sorry, Jaune, but you have to find some way to survive without us for a few hours. It's girls only this time. Don't worry, though. You'll totally get to see something nice tomorrow, hehehe~"

"Yeah."/"Uh-huh."

"...Did you two hear what I said?"

""Mhm."/"Uh-huh."

"Then, were you two paying attention?"

"Whatever."/"Uh-huh."

Jaune's mind somewhat registered the sound of a tapping foot, but most of his mental focus was devoted to the glorious hunting of giant monsters. After an epic clash worthy of song, he had reduced the special event's boss to that pitiful state where, legendary though the creature may be, it was forced to make an escape while sporting a noticeable limp. Jaune allowed the poor thing a reprieve for the time being, staying behind to carve material off the severed tail. An inventory check followed, fingers dancing through the menu options to craft potions and bombs.

Items restocked and health replenished, he tracked his prey's last heading. Determined eyes set their gaze on the mountaintop. The hunt has entered its last phase. Today, the apex of the food chain will meet its match. He can already picture the new -*click*- armor.

Jaune stared at the empty space where his scroll used to be, then looked down to the bed he was lying on. There the scroll sat, folded shut and dead to the world.

"Whoops. My bad, gopher."

He got the feeling she might not be sincere in her apology; the delivery was a bit flat. She was also looming over him, arms crossed with another scroll gripped in her hand. The confiscated device's owner stood behind her, pouting.

"It's a beautiful day. Why don't you try to get out there and see the sights?"

"I definitely heard something about me not being invited along to the...thingy. I might as well stay here." So he missed a few details. Many mistakes were made all around.

"We're on a tropical vacation in exotic lands, you know? So let's enjoy that instead of shutting ourselves away. Even if you can't come with us, there's still an entire resort for you to explore." She perked up, and shared with him an idea that had come to her. "Like, why not use that scroll for something better?"

Intrigued, Jaune bit the bait.

"I'm listening."

Melanie's smile was practically devilish. She crooned into his ear.

"Snap a few pictures of how much fun you're having, then send them back to your Beacon friends to show off."

Oh. Wow, that's evil.

At this time, most of Vale (both city and Kingdom) was covered in a raging blizzard, trapping everyone he knew from school that chose to stay. Which meant pretty much all of them, Beacon students and transfers alike. The thought that he would show them… no, that he would show May and Team BRNZ the sight of him in sunny Vacuo was downright cruel. Cruel and deliciously cathartic.

What a wonderful way to tweak their noses. They have only themselves to blame, kicking him off Grimm Invaders' high score table like that for the second time!

"Ooh, I like that look in your eyes."

"I love what goes on in your head." Jaune rubbed his hands together. "I am so in. Any idea of where I should start?"

Miltia chimed in before Melanie could.

"Swimming's out, obviously, but maybe play volleyball or something? You have to show sand in the frame so they know you're on the beach."

"Not a bad suggestion. What else?"

"Try a bar," Melanie suggested, "I saw one further down."

Either options sounded valid. Jaune hopped off the bed, putting on his shoes as he mulled over the choices.

Playing a sport on the sands gave the sense of him enjoying the warm, non-blizzardy weather to the fullest. On the flipside, the bar allowed him to lounge with a drink in hand, the very image of a man without a care in the world.

After much deliberation, with a focus on maximum inducement of rage and envy, he reached a decision. His scroll went in a pocket, and his hand snagged his wallet from the table on the way to the door.

"Both. I'll do both." Melanie and Miltia chuckled, delighting in the mischief to come.

"Good! Take lots of pictures, and make sure those RWBY girls get them."

"If they respond, we wanna know what they said, okay?" Jaune agreed to the request with a thumbs-up, but then tilted his head in curiosity.

"What are you two doing in the meantime, anyway?" Melanie jabbed a finger at his face, and crowed in triumph.

"I knew you didn't listen! I knew it! Why don't you give a guess?"

"Here's a hint for you, disciple. It's somewhat of a hobby of ours-" Jaune's answer was immediate.

"You're shopping for clothes."

"...correct. Melanie, are we, like, one-note stereotypes? He didn't even hesitate."

"Think of it as him understanding our deep, complicated thoughts." Jaune rolled his eyes.

"C'mon. The cat's at home, and so are Mel's fishies. That leaves partying, fighting, dancing, and shopping for your pastimes. Fighting's out, unless you don't mind the resort booting us all. I haven't seen a club, and it's too early anyway, but we passed by a shopping avenue on the way here." He finished his deduction, spreading out his arms. "Q.E.D."

After a speechless moment, the sisters gave him a round of slow and soft applause, impressed.

"My, my, that was quite astute. You've got us dead to rights, Mr. Detective."

"We might have stolen a recruit from the VPD, Melanie. Good thing too, or he could have been catching people like us one after another with that kind of mind."

Melanie considered her sister's claim, holding her chin in thought. A smile played at her lips.

"Hmmm, no, I bet it wouldn't work on anyone else. He needs to observe them closely—" The smile widened to remind Jaune of a fox. "—and you've only had your eyes on us, right?"

He started to nod before realizing what those words could also suggest, and his mouth went dry. His hand dropped from the door handle. With a deer-in-headlights look, Jaune stared at the twins.

Eyes of jade gazed back, amused.

"Go have fun, Jaune."

"Take your time."

He dumbly nodded, and left.

-o-

The 'Crab Farm'

Sure is blue.

Hand raised to shade his eyes from the sun, Jaune stared out over the uninterrupted expanse of water leading from where he stood to the far distant horizon. A comfortable breeze blew through his hair, and he tasted salt on his tongue.

All told, not a bad spot to find oneself in.

The problem came from the other direction. Turning around, he looked over the wooden surface of the wide and sturdy platform he stood on, past the people moving back and forth, between the two boats that ferried them and their equipment here, across the (relatively) short expanse of water, and finally at the stretch of land on which the resort rested. He used his meager skills in mathematics to gauge the distance from here to there, and came up with the same result as the last two times. Should things go wrong, he probably would not make the journey back. Either too far to go, or him too slow.

How did I get here?

The literal man would point to the boats. The philosopher might dissect the question rather than getting around to an answer, explaining to anyone and everyone in their vicinity about the many ways to define the word 'here'. The jokester might get cute and break into a story of the birds and the bees.

For Jaune, he would have to say that it was his intention to… his hope of…

Actually, the birds and the bees encapsulated his answer pretty well.

"So, you'll definitely come through on the discount if I do this?" Jaune tried to confirm once again with the group's leader, a grizzled Huntsman standing a head taller than him. "And the timeslot, too? A whole afternoon and evening, like we agreed."

Dammit, why did I have to phrase it in such a way? That sounded so wrong.

The Huntsman clapped him on the back, responding in his booming voice.

"Yeah, kid. It's within my poorvu, er, pervy-"

"Purview?"

"That's it! You Beacon kids sure know your fancy words. The resort gives me a bit of leeway for this project. No us, no guests. No guests, no Lien. I can pull strings to get you one of the best damn yacht they've got at a steal for tomorrow. Count on it."

It sounded too good to be true. Having spent time in a nightclub run by gangsters, he should have known to walk away then and there. Or, rather, back then and back there at their first meeting. One did not simply trust a shady deal offered by some guy they met in a bar. He was unaware of any changes to the convention in regards to a 'tiki' bar, and so imagine it would hold true there, too.

He had been ruminating over a fruity concoction he ordered, a stack of brochures discarded on the counter, when the aging Huntsman and his companions called out to him from a few seats over. A round of drinks got him to join in. They told their story, and he told his while fishing for some advice. The conversation soon came around to the topic of a special crabbing event, one where they would pay him to attend instead of vice versa; in the form of a better price and timeslot for rental boats, if he so wished. At the time, they termed it as an incentive for guests to spread the word and revitalize the industry.

In hindsight, the surge of interest in Jaune once he mentioned being a Beacon student should have clued him in. He did figure out the catch when they started handing out massive war-hammers in the style Nora preferred, and he considered crying foul.

Yet, the reward. It tempted him so. The exact solution to his conundrum had fallen into his lap. If there stood a chance to attain it, how could he decline?

Eyes on the prize, Jaune. Eyes on the prize.

He set a foot on the hammer's head resting on the floor, and gripped the handle. It would be his companion for the day. For later, too, if the reward turned out to be a sham and punishment needed meting a la the Nora Method.

"Alright, what can I expect, old-timer?"

"It's just a regular culling of Crabbies -that's Crabbadons in your textbook- so the resort can stay open. If radar picks up a cast of them too close to the beach then the resort has to go in mandatory lockdown and activate all the defenses, so twice a week we come out. Because they reform fast, see? Think waist-height crabs and you won't be far off. Not particularly strong, but there will be a lot of them. An extra hammer can do a world of help." Jaune nodded in understanding. Numbers to match numbers, it made perfect sense.

The man next pointed at the center of the platform, where a machine rested. Little more than a box with an antenna, it featured three buttons on the control panel.

"The red button activates the emitter under the platform. It'd send out sonar pulses to attract the Crabbies here. Follow our lead on how best to smash the things open. Watch the claws, it's faster than you think. Blue button turns the pulses off. Yellow is a distress signal, but really, there's never a need to use that."

Jaune stared at the Huntsman in horror.

"Yep, not in all my years have we had to send a distress signal. Kinda obvious since I'm alive, innit? And I'll survive for many more years yet. It'll be a cakewalk, mark my word."

"A-are you seriously saying this!?" He caught the suppressed grin before the older man broke into guffaws.

"Hang on! Let me throw out another! Last one, promise. A-hem… I sure can't wait to come home to my beautiful wife and soon-to-be-born child."

They were all dead men walking. Jaune included, by sheer proximity.

One of the Huntresses called out, "Why don't you turn around, then? It's been a whole five minutes since I've seen your ugly face. And unless you've got another wife, I don't see any more babies on the way." Jaune gaped like a fish at the woman, and she chuckled. "And stop scaring the poor boy!"

Laughter followed, good-natured on the whole. Jaune experienced a flash of self-consciousness, but found his tension easing at how utterly blasé this crew acted.

"Heh, sorry kid." The man did not look very sorry. "I enjoy my gallows humor, and in my experience those lines don't make a lick of difference. Skill is what matters."

And nothing said skill in this business better than age. It denoted someone who had survived and kept on surviving, until nothing they face can threaten that status anymore. Old Huntsmen and Huntresses put down their roots in the Lumina Plateau and other such locales because they were the strongest things around instead of the Grimm. By this point in their career, they knew their limits, and them being here meant they were ready for what the mission entailed. He would be safe.

Unless, of course, they actually intended to use him as sacrificial bait, in which case he would be lunch. But let's not jump to the worst conclusion. Yet.

"There's a reason why we think this can be an actual event for visiting Huntsmen. Crabbies are pretty much the Beowolves of the sea. You're here today as our test audience so we can get a sense of how to manage amateurs. It'd let us work out the kinks in the plan before we send it in to Shade Academy. They'll review the footage to give final approval." Jaune listened to the lecture with polite interest, until the Hunstman upped the ante. "Give a good showing and we'll even throw in another bottle of that medicine for your stomach."

Aura flooded his leg, and he kicked the hammer's head into the air. It came to a rest with the handle braced over his shoulder.

"Two bottles, and you've got a deal!"

Those pills kept him in perfect condition on the ride over. Having more than needed on hand can save him much embarrassment should he find himself on a boat. Like, say, a yacht?

"Done. Now, we're gonna start it up. Move back towards the center and watch the range of your weapon."

A piercing whistle drew his and Jaune's attention. One of the teammates stationed further back tapped an ear.

"Ah, yes. I've long forgotten that. We should probably include some earplugs next time." The man grimaced. "One last thing, kid. There's a bit of a noise issue in the beginning. Just ignore that, alright?"

Since there was not much that could be done this late, Jaune just gave a helpless shrug. Suffering was the lot of a beta tester.

"Good on you."

The Huntsman shooed Jaune away to his assigned spot, then raised a hand over the control panel. It hovered as he performed a final check of the people under his command. Finding their preparations to his liking, he gave a satisfied nod. His hand came down to slap the big, red button.

Beyond a flashing light turning on, nothing else happened as far as Jaune could tell.

He glanced at the others, uncertain. They were staring into the water. Jaune took that as a sign that the machine was doing its thing below as intended, and followed their lead to wait.

It began as dots, little red lights so sparse that he almost dismissed them as a trick of the sun. The dots then multiplied. It did so again, and again, and again until hundreds of lights moved beneath the waves. Each passing seconds, they shined brighter and bigger.

At the edge of hearing, Jaune heard a soft sound, not unlike drumming fingers. It grew louder into a rapid series of clicks continuing without end.

The first dome, ivory white, broke the surface right at the lip of the platform. Smooth as an eggshell, it bobbed in the water as similar carapaces rose along the edge. Dark limbs emerged, revealing the noise he heard to be the snapping of claws. Out of the water, the *Clack! Clack! Clack!* reverberated through his head, and left an ache in his teeth. Something in his animal brain screamed danger at him, and his arms and legs locked up. He felt like prey.

The Grimm began crawling onto the platform, stalking closer as they reveled in the surge of fear they wrought.

*Crack!*

The snapping claws, on the platform and in the sea, halted as one when the foremost Grimm slumped to the ground. On its back, a hammer had embedded deep in the broken shell. The Huntress who threw it marched forward, a second hammer in her hands.

"Score one! First blood, double points!"

Oh. That was easy.

The unrelenting tide, so malevolent, so awful at first glance, appeared rather meek now. Once that psychological effect of theirs dissipated, Jaune noticed how unfinished the creatures were. The thickest shells formed on the claws and back, but the rest were all spindly legs and unarmored joints. As he observed them, one of the Crabbies shuffled behind its nearest brethren and bumped that one forward.

Why don't you go die first, it suggested.

A grin crept on Jaune's face as he beheld the horde of Grimm in a new light. A light that resembled the sparkle in a child's eyes as they stood in an arcade, preparing to start a round of Whack-A-Mole.

"Chaaaarge!"

The Huntsman leader's bellow rang out across the platform, and his team plus Jaune ran forward with fearless hearts. For the Grimm, this was the day they'd finally show those pesky humans what for, and take the resort. For the Huntsmen, it was all a game.

Jaune soon learned that felling Crabbies can be done with simple techniques, but required a fair bit of strength to compensate. The softest, weakest part of the Grimm laid under the shell. For the common variant, a solid blow of a hammer can smash through the outer layer to pulp the inside in one shot.

At first, Jaune had thought the face may be a good spot, and tried for a kick. The speed at which the two claws sliced at his leg put a stop to that notion. Instead, grabbing the lip of the shell from the sides or back then flipping them over worked like a charm. The smooth bone shell did allow the Grimm to get back up, but for a few seconds their exposed underside made for a good target. It was a longer process, but if this became an actual activity, Huntsmen who focused on finesse may still rack up points.

After the fifth Grimm, he got into the swing of things, laughing as he embraced a reckless offensive. At the twentieth, he was feeling pretty zen, falling into a smooth rhythm. Upon reaching the fortieth, he roared in triumph as the last of the Grimm in sight fade away as smoke. In the high of victory, he could almost believe that he was a full-on Huntsman. If nothing else, this event can serve as a confidence boost for Academy students.

Then, likely because the world hated Jaune having nice things, the giant Crabbie surfaced, bigger than a boat with pincers on the ends of two long limbs that can double as wrecking balls.

In wide-eyed incredulity, Jaune turned to the Huntsman and his crew. His arm rose, and he silently jabbed a finger at the Grimm. The veteran team probably understood the question he wanted to ask. He was ready to bet that every future participant of the crabbing event will mirror his current thought:

What the actual fu-?

"Ho. Ly. Damn." The old-timer managed to breathe out.

Odd. Jaune expected to see disbelief. Instead, the man and everyone else appeared... elated.

"It's Crabzilla!"

"I almost thought we wouldn't see another one this year!"

"I call dibs."

"Screw you, it's my turn. Play decoy so I can line the shot."

"No, you."

"No, you!"

"SHUUUT UUUP!" Their leader's yell quieted the team. "Since he's never got a chance for it, our young'un will be up to bat."

"Who-, wait, me?"

Jaune took another look at the Grimm they wanted him to deal with, just in case it has gotten smaller when he turned away. Nope, still a metric fuckton of condensed hatred and shadows. Only more so, because it was closer now. And, from the encouraging expressions they wore, these guys were serious about sending him forth.

Was he the sacrificial bait?

"Oh, and I'll take the other seat so I can cover him if he misses." The leader grabbed Jaune's by the arm and ran for the boats while his team shouted protests at his back. "C'mon, kid! Time to MAN THE HARPOONS!"

Harpoons?

Mankind's answer to giant Crab Grimm revealed themselves before his eyes. The floors of the two boats split apart. Rising from the holds, stocked with a slew of bolts each as thick as his arm, were two long, massive, glorious cannons of steel and power. One could call them harpoon guns in the same vein that Crescent Rose can be called a personal firearm; merely true on a technicality.

Jaune tried not to squee.

He failed.

The Grimm tried not to die.

It failed.

-o-

Terrace restaurant, evening

"Nice tan, gopher."

"Did you go for beach volleyball, after all?"

Jaune shook his head as he joined the Malachites' table by the balcony, sporting a grin that has stayed on his face for the past two hours.

"Then, where did you go?"

"And how do we get there? Because, like, I want that tan."

The way Melanie kept going on about his tan made for quite an ego boost. Jaune swore to keep this look for the whole trip. Y'know, just to milk the compliments a little more.

Leaning back in his chair, he considered how to tell them of his excursion. He then dismissed that silly idea, because they might kill him if he said he ran off to fight yet another Grimm above his weight class.

"Errr... I did a bit of exploration. Booked a tour to see a crab farm, that sort of thing." The sisters burst out in laughter.

"So cute! You're like a kid on a school trip!"

"Do you fancy the fisherman life? -*snicker*- Gonna be a farmer of the sea?"

Jaune recalled the memory of his 'catch'. He happily sighed.

"It's a more exciting life than it looks. There were all kinds of benefits."

The opportunity to fire a siege weapon made for one hell of an incentive. Any company that offered such a chance would never run out of job applicants.

By the time the waiter came around with their dinner, the topic had shifted to how the twins spent their afternoon. Straightening in his chair, Jaune picked up the provided mallet and seafood cracker before setting into the plate of —heh, he had to once he saw the option— steamed crabs.

From time to time, he patted his pocket to check on the tickets, worried that they would somehow disappear.

The old-timer came through on his promise, and Jaune received the discount that started the whole adventure along with the bottles of medicine. He had made a beeline for the rental office once they reach landfall to secure his prize. At this time tomorrow, a yacht and its crew would be at the trio's disposal.

That settled the matter of 'where' and 'when'. Which left only the 'how' up in the air. All he knew at the moment was that it has to be clear, so they would not misunderstand, and romantic, because that's what Melanie and Miltia deserved.

On the outside, Jaune continued to listen to the sisters' story in rapt attention, smiling and laughing. Within his chest, excitement and fear warred, and a feeling of warmth surged every time he gazed into their eyes.

At this time tomorrow...

Authors Note: Not the usual place for a Christmas story. We're going for the beach episode!

Everyone knows you don't trust anything said by some guy at a bar. Except heroes, who do it all the time. It's like they have the self-preservation instincts of lemmings.

Jaune doesn't carve materials off the monster's tail mid-combat. He's a bit of a casual.