I'll be taking a week off starting Saturday 15th April. I'll be back to writing the next Saturday 22nd April. Just forewarning here.

Cover Art: Kirire

Chapter 47

As blow after blow from a sabre rained down on her, Blake was forced to admit she may have made a mistake. Her dynamic in ARC Corp had always been an obvious one; she was the one with aura, training, and a combat semblance, therefore she was the one who fought dangerous foes in melee. Jaune was the one with experience and knowledge, and he would stay back and support or do the lion's share of the work when it came to identifying and finding the anomaly. It was a functional and efficient little arrangement, and it had come naturally over their months together. It worked.

Against anomalies.

Blake swore as she moved a little slow and the sabre piercing unerringly through her guard, scraping the left side of her throat and tearing out a chunk of aura instead of flesh. It could have been much worse but even that was enough to have her hurriedly backing away and clapping a hand to her neck. The clone she'd left to buy her time was run through and dispatched before it could react, sent hurtling off the roof with a dismissive flick of Winter's arm. It dissipated before it could fall and strike the no-doubt crowded pavement below, sparing anyone an unfortunate evening.

Even so, she was outmatched. It was an unwelcome thought to have, but Blake had grown used to cynicism over the years. Winter Schnee was more than just a twisted auctioneer; she was a huntress. It made sense. This woman would have to be capable of fighting back dangerous anomalies, and even more dangerous distant family members wanting her dead. Blake was decent herself, but only that. Adam had been stronger and quicker, and anyone with a full four years in a combat school would inevitably be more skilled than she. Winter had that and many more years of experience on top, and it was beginning to show.

"What do you want with Jaune?"

Winter Schnee clicked her tongue, rolled her eyes, and cut into her guard, driving up into Blake and launching her into the air. The moment she was airborne and unable to dodge, she summoned a barrage of white Nevermore that crashed into Blake's body with razor-sharp beaks, cutting and tearing. Blake gritted her teeth and shielded her face with her arms, unable to do much more until she landed, gasping for air.

"I'm sorry," said Winter, "Was that supposed to be my cue to stop fighting and explain my grand plan for your benefit? All the while my distant cousin finishes up his fight and comes to reinforce you?" The woman levelled her sabre and shot in, eyes flashing. "I must not have got the memo!"

Left. Right. Backwards. Blake kept Gambol Shroud in front of her, centre-mass, and did her best to keep her movements economical as she gave ground. She could not parry every blow, so she focused on those most dangerous and let the rest through. The blade cut her shoulders, her arms, her thighs, but never her chest, face or stomach. Aura bled instead of actual blood, but it would be the other soon enough. She could already feel her aura dipping below half.

What's taking you so long, Jaune!? The anomalies, no doubt. There were over twenty of them and he was one man without aura, so winning at all was unlikely, let alone quick. I should have stayed with him and we could have cleared them out together.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

But staying and dying was a pointless endeavour. Gritting her teeth, Blake let the next kick through and kicked off the ground at the same time, letting it carry her back. She twisted in the air, all too aware of Winter's pursuit. Her feet touched down and she vaulted forward, off the edge of the penthouse roof and down onto the proper one below, landing atop a potted plant and throwing herself off a second before Winter struck down and smashed it to pieces. The soil thrown up from it hadn't settled before Winter was on her again, lunging for her with a fencer's stance. Blake ducked, but Winter flicked her wrist and adjusted her thrust to a downward slash, cutting her right shoulder and making her stumble. The sabre drew back and reversed, caressing her throat with a none-too-gentle rasp of metal on aura. This wasn't even close – she was completely outclassed.

Winter's free hand struck her chest and grasped her suit jacket, fingers clutching up the lapels as she twisted and flung Blake back. Not onto the roof despite her best efforts. Blake went up toward it but was too heavy. She struck the tall glass walls of the penthouse instead, crashing through it and turning the expensive thing into a million glass shards. Blake landed on a sofa, her soft landing cushioned by sharp glass. Kicking her legs over her head, she rolled back just as Winter cut the sofa in two with a vertical slice, and walked through the remains.

Blake fled.

Winter gave chase.

Her frantic retreat took her from the living area to the kitchenette, and Blake grabbed the first thing she could – a coffee machine – and launched it at Winter's head. The woman ducked, then sliced a stand of mugs out the air, before a selection of kitchen towels struck her face. Blake vaulted onto the counter's surface as the sabre cut at her legs. She pulled open a cupboard door, stuck her whole arm in behind the many glasses and mugs, and wrenched her arm out, launching twenty or so objects Winter's way. The sabre flashed and flickered but she couldn't cut them all down and a few hit Winter's chest and face. Growling, she was forced back under the barrage, and even more so when Blake emptied out a second cupboard on her as well.

Racing along the counter, Blake kicked a wooden block filled with sharp kitchen knives at Winter, then a saucepan and a spice rack, before she reached down and picked up the microwave in two hands, yanking the power cord out the wall, and hurled that at the woman. Winter had to throw herself out the way of the heavy appliance, bumping her hip against the dining table as she did. Grinning, Blake leapt onto the opposite edge of the table, her full weight striking the side of it. Rather than land, she kicked off, transferring all her momentum into it. The table slammed into Winter's midriff and travelled back with her slumped over the top, while Blake landed on her back in the kitchen and scrambled to her feet.

"Enough!" roared Winter, gripping the table and hurling it aside, through a window – out into the open air and down to the streets below. Blake dimly hoped everyone had backed the fuck away because otherwise someone was going to die. "I put down a hefty deposit on this penthouse!"

Blake eyed the wreckage and ruin their fight had wrought and couldn't hide her cheeky smile. "I'm not an expert but I don't think you're getting that back."

Winter raised her sabre but let it drop again when glass crinkled underfoot behind her. Jaune walked over it, his polished black shoes sparkling with dust and his suit dirtier than Blake had ever seen it. He had a black eye, a split lip, and there were bruises around his neck where someone had tried to strangle him. His face was also burning a light pink and peeling from the hot glow let off by his sword. Winter's frustration morphed to pleasure. Blake's eyes narrowed.

"Are you finished already? Good." Winter turned, exposing her back to Blake. She was too exhausted to take up the offer. "Put that sword of yours away. It's bothering you more than it is me. I was just finishing up with your little toy here."

"Blake?" asked Jaune. "Are you okay?"

"A-Alive…"

"The girl is good at running," said Winter. "I'll give her that." She stepped toward Jaune, sabre angled down at the floor. "But we could have skipped all of this if you'd just come up to see me instead of sending the help in your stead. And what of my guards? Dead already? You certainly are violent."

"Cut your bullshit, Winter. They weren't human – and I know for a fact they were all just clones. There was no self-preservation. Where's the original? Hidden away?"

"Oh, somewhere. You're right, though. The core body was never there. But then, they had orders not to kill you so let's call it a fair trade. You're just a little roughed u-" Crocea Mors flashed. Winter leaned back, allowing the bright white tip to pass by an inch in front of her face. "Temper-temper. And didn't I say that weapon of yours is useless here? I'm no anomaly."

It was still a sharp bit of metal that'd cut through her if she let herself be hit. And if she let her aura drop to nothing. Blake grimaced and tried to make her way around to Jaune's side. Winter side-stepped with her, blocking her path. Blake held her ground, growling under her breath. Even two-on-one, Winter was this confident. And why not? Jaune didn't have aura and she was a huntress. I hope you have a good plan here, Jaune.

"Let's not play around," said Winter. "Put that sword of yours away, bring out your arms and burn me. Set fire to me. You know it's your only hope."

Jaune didn't move.

"What's this? Ah, I see. You're not willing to play because you're confident it's something I want." Winter crossed her arms. "How very banal of you. You realise that you are the ones who came here, no? I was happy to mind my own business and return to Atlas come morning, but you simply had to come and disturb me. Well? What now? Do you expect that I'll let you both limp away while I cover the bill for all this? Or is this your idea of – what was it again? – ah, yes. No more games. That's what you said. Well, Jaune, here I am. No more games. What now?"

"…"

He had no answer. Blake didn't, either. They'd come to kill her.

"Nothing?" Winter tutted. "Then perhaps I shall help you make up your mind."

Blake's aura snapped up. Winter's threat was veiled, but she had a feeling of what it was – and that feeling saved her from being run through as the woman twisted, lunged, and pinned Blake back against the worksurface. Pain shot through her as her aura entered the red, but it held, saving her life. What it didn't help with was Winter grasping her by her collar and pushing her back with her other arm. Blake's heels touched the edge of the window previously smashed by the dining room table. Her back leaned out, out over nothingness, out over an eighty-floor drop to the streets below. Blake's hands clamped onto Winter's wrist, her eyes wide yellow saucers.

"STOP!" screamed Jaune.

"Ah, there we go." Winter held Blake out, her feet still on ground but her body teetering back on the end of her arm. Blake held on for dear life. Gambol Shroud blinked and flickered through the air as it sailed down to the ground far below. "See? Was that so hard? You really should be more cooperative in future. It makes this so much easier."

"What do you want, Winter?"

"My, oh my. You make it sound like I'm the one who called you here. You can start by taking off your jacket and shirt. I want to see you properly."

"Should I give you a sexy dance as well?"

Winter smiled and inched her arm out further, making Blake's toes almost leave the ground. Jaune threw Crocea Mors down, ripped off his jacket and dragged his gloved hands down his shirt, flicking off his buttons in one go. He shucked it off and stood topless. The black, burning mass of his arms had reached up and engulfed a bit of his shoulders and chest, and if it wasn't Blake's imagination playing tricks on her, she'd have said the flames seemed hotter. Brighter.

"There we are." Winter smiled hungrily. "Do you have any idea what you have? Do you have even the slightest inkling of how paradoxical your existence is? A person overtaken by an anomaly who hasn't given up his humanity. You're still you, still human, but usurping the power of an anomaly instead of it usurping you."

Jaune glared at her. "What's your point?"

"My point is that you don't seem to realise just how valuable that makes you. Light of the Soul – or what these fools call aura – is versatile, yes, but it's hard to use. It's too subtle. Unless you dedicate years of your life to training and extensive practice you'll never be able to use it for anything worthwhile. It's too much hard work for the average person."

Her smile turned feral.

"But powers in a can? The power to summon fire, stop time, fly, manipulate the ground under your feet or clone yourself over and over without effort. Think on that for a moment. There's no training required, no hard work, only a few cosmetic differences. Can you imagine just how much people would pay for that? Can you imagine how many would pay to have what you have and keep their sanity while they're at it?"

"This is a curse. My whole life has been ruined by it."

"As expected of an ARC Corp lackey to say. But for someone who is weak and desperate, who wants power but doesn't want to sacrifice years of their life to train it? Well, what you have is something of great value."

"You can't sell anomalous power."

"Can't I? You're right. I can't. Not now, anyway. There's more research that needs to be done – or so I'd say if much of it wasn't done already." Winter chuckled as Jaune's face darkened. "What's with that look? Our subject knew the risks. Why, you've already met him. Or the many different facets of him."

"The clones," Blake rasped. Winter spared her a glance, but only that.

"Indeed. A loyal servant of the SDC he was, and one willing to do anything for a little money. Alas, while we succeeded in artificially inducing an anomalous takeover on him, he still lost his mind and personality to it. Lost it entirely. He became a blank doll. Why is that, do you think? Why is it that someone put through it would lose everything, but those who transform naturally keep a bit of their true personality, even if they so often become violent or unstable after? Personally, I think it's the grief. The emotion. That those who transform are under incredible mental and emotional stress when they do, and that this heighted emotional component somehow helps them maintain their state of mind through what must be a physically demanding evolution."

Blake struggled on Winter's arm. Trust the bitch to refuse to even pause her fight to spare words with her, but stop for a full-blown monologue with Jaune. It was obvious she wanted Jaune to do something. Blake feared it was lose himself to the anomaly. He'd broke out the last time, but that wasn't what had her heart racing. It was the fact that she could think of one sure-fire way to make Jaune lose his mind.

It was to let her fall.

"There's only one currently known and living human to have kept their humanity when they transformed," said Winter. "And we have no idea what will happen if your transformation is pushed further. Our investors want assurances that this isn't an evolutionary dead end. They want your power, but they don't want to lose themselves if their tempers ever flare. That's where you come in, Jaune. I really thought you'd have lost it tonight at having to break your little rules and kill those you might have called friends. But I see now that you kept them at arm's length. A wise choice, I suppose, when your family could have discovered and eradicated them at any point. I should have expected you to know your own weaknesses."

He almost had lost himself. If it hadn't been for her breaking him free then he would have transformed fully. Into what, she didn't know, but it couldn't have been good. I knew we shouldn't have done this tonight. I should have put my foot down!

"The SDC needs a demonstration," said Winter, watching Jaune carefully. "So, I'll ask you, as your cousin…" Her smile grew. "Do try and keep to your sanity."

She stepped into Blake and pushed. Already on the extremity of the woman's arm, Blake was carried out the window, off the ground, and into the open air. Her fingers clung desperately to the woman's arm but her own weight carried her off. Blake hung in the air for a moment, wide eyes meeting Jaune's, before gravity took cruel hold and she tumbled, mouth opening into a wild scream.

Winter's laughter chased her down.

Blake's eyes saw the sky and the shattered moon. She felt weightless, her suit flapping round her as she picked up speed. Dimly, pointlessly, she thought about the fact that if her aura had truly been empty then she might have experienced her own transformation here. No. She was too calm for that. Though she shouldn't be. Blake hurtled down but kept her eyes up, not wanting to see the ground approach or know when she was about to strike. If only she still had Gambol Shroud, she could try something. Try and arrest her fall or catch a window.

"BLAKE!"

"Jaune-?"

He was above her, reaching out for her. Falling like she was. Blake wanted to laugh but it caught in her throat and choked her. What was the idiot doing? He didn't have the aura to survive a fall from a third floor, let alone the eightieth. Yet there he was, burning arm outstretched, body angled down, eyes flashing gold and hair shimmering with orange embers at the tips. Fire wreathed around him, whipped up into gouts of flame by the wind.

What was the point if they both died here…?

"Blake!" howled Jaune, fighting to be heard over the wind. "My hand! Take it!"

He wasn't wearing his gloves. Blake wasn't sure why that mattered to her in this moment where they were both going to die, but it caught in her head. She was unsure why she reached out – maybe it was just to be held in her last moment. Her fingers brushed his and she registered the intense, burning heat. It hurt.

He didn't seem to care. Jaune's fingers wrapped around her wrist and left marks on her skin. He hauled her up – or himself down, she wasn't sure which – until she was cradled against his chest. That hurt, too. His arms wrapped around her and burned her clothing, making it smoulder. So close, she could see his eyes seeming to burn around the edges of his iris, as if the band of black that kept his blue eyes in place was on fire, shining amber light inward. The tips of his hair were on fire as well, but glowing with embers instead of burning away. He clenched his eyes shut, grunting. His body shook and trembled.

"Jaune-?"

"I have to," he rasped out. "I… I have to-"

Fire exploded out his back, torn free with an agonised cry as the same wings she'd seen in the theatre burst from his back. They stretched wide and thin, like a butterfly's wings made of tongues of flame. She had seen those same wings carry him up to a cocoon formed under the ceiling of the theatre, but she hadn't realised he'd been aware of them.

She also wasn't sure they would be enough to slow their fall – not least of all because fire wasn't exactly something that could catch air like a parachute or wings could. Surely the air would just go through them and do nothing-? His wings flared out twice as wide and twice as big, and they were violently yanked to the side, away from the building.

An anomaly. Of course. It didn't abide by the laws of physics anyway, so why should it care for the fact that wings of flame shouldn't have been capable of flight? Blake clung on for dear life, panic suddenly slamming back in now that death wasn't an absolute certainty. She'd almost preferred it stay the other way because now she felt every burning touch of his body cutting into her skin, and it hurt. It burned her skin until she was red raw.

Jaune's violent and unsteady flight was more of a glide really. He could hardly master the wings he'd only discovered earlier today, but it was enough to divert and slow their fall and have them crashing onto a rooftop nearby somewhat gentler. Blake rolled out his arms and took stock of their situation, all the while drawing in great gasps of air and trying to stop her heart beating its way out her chest.

They'd fallen maybe half the building's length. Forty floors. Still fatal by all means, and halfway to splattering across the street like a watermelon. "Holy shit," said Blake, violently shaking. "We're alive. You did it. You-"

"Ack-! Arghhh!"

Jaune was on his hands and knees, fists beating the ground as the wings flashing above him did their best to wrap around him and form a cocoon. They moved like they had a mind and will of their own, creeping downward and flinching back whenever he would swing a hand out and into them. They didn't stop for long, and his back arched so badly she could see his spine. It was glowing orange and threatening to burst out his skin. Jaune reared back, arching backward on his knees with his face up toward the sky.

"Arghhhhhhh!"

"Jaune!" Blake scurried over, dragging herself at first before she found her footing and raced the rest of the way. He lashed out an arm at her, as if she were one of his wings. Blake easily dodged his wild attack and came to her knees in front of him, making sure he could see her. His eyes were worse now, burning with actual fire all the way to his black pupils. "Jaune, control yourself!"

"I… I can't…" He spasmed again and fire rolled off him in a wave, scorching her aura. "Run," he rasped out. "G-Get off the roof. If I don't come back t-then call my family. They know what to-" He groaned and reeled back, eyes closed and teeth gritted. The wings had come down to engulf her as well now, and they were warm. Comforting.

Come and sleep, they seemed to whisper into her mind. Let us wrap you in our warm embrace. They didn't burn but caressed her. Become more than you currently are with us.

He was losing himself. It was too much. Twice in one day, and no Crocea Mors this time to snap him out of it. He'd abandoned that to save her. Blake struggled to keep her eyes open, especially when the wings closed over her. Of all people, it was Coral that came to mind. Hadn't she warned her about this-? She had said, all the way back then, that there was always a chance Jaune would lose himself to the anomaly within him. Coral Arc had said a lot of things. Not all of them made sense.

This one did.

Lunging forward, Blake tackled Jaune onto his back, casting the wings wide open. Her hands found his cheeks, holding him in place, and she brought her lips crashing down onto his without a second thought.

His eyes were wide open.

Good.

Blake pushed into him and forced her tongue into his mouth, settling her hips down on his lower body as she stole the very air from his lungs. His mouth was hot, which was no great surprise given the fact they were both practically on fire. The greater surprise was how little she had to force it, and how easily she melted into him. Thankfully, not a literal melting. The heat from his wings dissipated, as did the wings themselves, but she continued to pin him down until the air in her lungs ran out. Only then did she sit up and break the kiss, face flushed red, lips bruised, panting for air.

He stared up at her with his dumb blue eyes.

"Bla-?"

KRAK!

His head slammed to the side and her palm stung.

"Ow! Fuck!" he cried, eyes scrunched shut. "You already snapped me out of it! That last part was unnecessary!"

"That last part was for suggesting I call your family here to deal with you," she hissed, climbing off him and adjusting her suit. She couldn't look at him. Blake couldn't even look at herself. She pressed her hands to her cheeks as if to force the blush down. Damn him. Damn her too while she was at it. "N-Now don't speak of this again and we'll call it even."

Jaune stood, and out the corner of her eye she caught him touching his lips. Her stomach flipped, but the last thing she wanted to think about after all this was butterflies. At least he wasn't on fire anymore, though his hair was ashen grey at the tips now. A treacherous part of her brain thought it gave him a certain mature character. Blake hunted that errant thought down and executed it. The buzzing of her scroll gave her an easy escape.

"Hello?"

"This is Coda." The voice wasn't robotic at all, nor even that female voice a lot of text-to-speech used nowadays. It sounded like a normal woman of twenty or so years. Blake supposed an AI with near-unlimited funds and coding power could probably synthesise a natural-sounding voice. "I'm calling to assure you I've erased any and all footage, video or otherwise, of your little free-fall. Anyone who tries to access the footage will find it corrupted beyond belief. You're fortunate all cameras nowadays are digital or I wouldn't be able to do a thing."

A hand fell on her shoulder and Jaune nodded, listening in. "What of Winter?" he asked.

"Winter Schnee is coming down the building – you'll understand it takes time to take eighty floors by a staircase, and your descent was quite a bit quicker. She has commissioned an emergency flight out of Vale. I cannot hack the aircraft. It's running on autistic mode."

Blake had never heard the term before, but she figured it didn't mean what it sounded like. Some kind of system disconnected from a network or the internet, perhaps. Or one running on only the most basic of electronic systems.

"Jaune, we can't," said Blake. "I'm spent, you're on the verge of losing yourself and Winter… I don't think she's even half aura. We can't go after her like this. It isn't going to work."

"I…"

"No!" This time, she put her foot down. More than that, she grasped his chin and held him so he had to stare into her eyes. "Jaune, no. We cannot win this fight. I'm making the decision here. We tried our best but our best wasn't good enough. There will be other chances." She stared him down. "You can either accept that or I can knock you out right here and now and carry you back to the office. You can hate me as much as you want but I will not watch you kill yourself for this."

Jaune met her gaze for a long few seconds. Her fingers felt cool on his skin, heavy too. She wanted to rest them on his chest to fight off the exhaustion but he was topless and… well, that wasn't a great idea right now. Blake raised her eyebrows, demanding an answer.

Jaune closed his eyes. "Coda, tell Cobalt and Gem to back off."

"Understood. It is the wise choice. I will do what I can to transfer data from Winter's scroll. She is calling someone right now – I can trace that and download the conversation for you. Cobalt will give you the recording and all details once I've got them ready." The call ended without Blake having to push a button, and the records didn't even show a call at all, let alone a number. Blake let go of Jaune and put the device away.

"It's something," she said. "We can try and find these people behind the SDC."

He nodded. "I know. And… you're right. I can't lose myself again. My family will have to be told – not that I nearly broke," he added when her hand rose in clear warning. "They'll have to know about what Winter said. About the SDC trying to commercialise the transformations. They're not going to be happy when they find out."

Blake nodded and removed her suit jacket to hand it to Jaune. He was broader and taller than her, but at least he could hide his arms in it and tuck his hands into the pockets. The night air was crisp on her white blouse, stained with dust and sweat, but they were alive. It was the most they could hope for right now.

"Thanks," he said, when they moved toward the roof access. "For what you did."

"Don't mention it."

"I meant for bringing me back from the edge."

"You're mentioning it."

He glanced her way only for Blake to glance away, face a dark shade of crimson. He laughed – the rat bastard – and said, "Don't worry. I know you were just doing it to help me out. I'm not going to get weird toward you or anything. You shocked me out of the moment saved my life." His smile was gentle. "I know you don't feel that way."

He didn't know half as much as he thought he did…

Blake channelling her inner Jackie Chan in the penthouse there.

BAD DAY! BAD DAY!

And no, Jaune isn't being "dumb oblivious here" like people tend to get annoyed at. This is a case of him seeing himself as an inhuman monster that he doesn't believe anyone should or could have feelings for, especially not Blake who knows exactly what he is, has seen his scars, and knows that he's one bad day away from turning into a monster. And a little of it is him being intentionally blind to ward her off for "her own good".

Next Chapter: 3rd April

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