Chapter 12: Cigarettes and No Regrets

"I have no regrets because I've done everything I could to the best of my ability."

"I'm not happy, Mr. Dubois. Not happy." Professor Goodwitch spoke while glaring at him. Flanking her on either side was Headmaster Ozpin and fucking General Ironwood. Robin thought he was supposed to arrive much later.

Now, however, he was caught under three withering glares. Well, more like two. Ozpin seemed to be putting up a front of annoyance, but the crinkle around his eyes gave away his amusement.

"Not happy? How could you be not happy with your favorite student?" Robin asked. The question only seemed to intensify her glare. "I'm not hearing anything refuting that."

"Don't play coy," Ironwood spoke for the first time. "Your team was already in here. Something you would know if you weren't passed out from exhaustion."

"Ah," Robin winced. "I don't know what they told you, but it was my idea."

The remark broke Ozpins silent front, and he let out a soft chuckle. Professor Goodwitch turned her glare onto him while Ironwood sighed and spoke. "So every single member of your team has claimed so far. Your loyalty to each other would be admirable if it weren't impeding an official investigation."

"No, I'm not covering for anyone. It actually was my idea." Robin said. "I was even the one who went and got the intel and everything."

Goodwitch turned to face him. "And how did you get the information to carry out this ill-planned mission?"

Robin held up two fingers. "First, Cardin worked hard on planning this; don't diss him." One finger went down. "Second, I was kind of in a bar and just so happened to overhear a thing or two I maybe shouldn't have." The second finger went down as he finished speaking.

Silence reigned as the three adults stared at him. Ozpin broke first, bringing up his mug of coffee to mask his smile, while Ironwood and Goodwitch groaned in unison.

"How did you even get into the bar?" Goodwitch asked, "You are under the drinking age, Robin."

Uh-oh, she pulled out the first names. "I'm sensing there isn't a correct answer to that one." Robin eventually said.

Goodwitch drew herself up. "Robin Dubois." He cringed as she said his full name. "Never in all my years have I been so uniquely disappointed by a student. You encouraged your team to partake in a mission against the White Fang and a known criminal without notifying anyone beforehand. Your 'intel'" She brought up her fingers in air quotes as she said the word. "Was nothing more than the whispers and ramblings of drunken nobodies and broke the law several times over."

By the end of it, even Ironwood had a glint of something close to sympathy for Robin in his eyes. "However." She continued to speak. "You acted, if not in accordance with the law, with the moral fiber expected of a huntsman. I hope to see you continue with such actions legally," She stressed the word, her face a complicated mix of anger, disappointment, and the smallest amount of something like pride, "in the future. Two weeks of detention for this stunt."

Ironwood frowned and stepped forward as Goodwitch finished. "I may not be your headmaster, so I cannot decide your punishment. Needless to say, if it were up to me, you would be in a lot more hot water than you are now. However, may I attempt to offer you some advice?"

Robin nodded. He had the feeling Ironwood wouldn't exactly take 'Nah, I think I'm doing pretty good' as a proper response. Might as well have some fun with it.

"When you fight at the scale that people like us do, failure is a long, long drop, and if you fail, you risk letting a lot of innocent people get hit on your way down. I'd recommend you alert the proper authorities beforehand in the future." Ironwood said with a smile. What a patronizing fucking smile. The man couldn't be more clear; he was only pretending to care. A distant part of his mind wanted to tell him to fuck off, and before he could stop it, that part of his mind started to move his mouth.

Robin blew air through his lips. The advice Ironwood gave was sound and entirely correct. But he could have gone without the condescension. "Can't rightly say I'm all that big. I've always been cautioned against getting too big for my britches."

Ironwood smiled sardonically. "Being a huntsman makes you bigger than you ever were before. You become more than yourself, more than just a single boy acting without thinking."

"Think I heard that in a comic once," Robin said with a feigned casualness. "'With great power comes great responsibility.' That about where you were going with that? Maybe you got great power. Awful hard to argue giant robots don't constitute that, but the rest of us? Me?" He trailed off with a shrug. "Them's the works. Some of us get lucky, and some don't. Some end up mattering, and their britches end up rightfully big. Rest of us? We're just scrounging by."

Feigned ignorance and straight-up lying, really. He got an uncomfortable feeling in the bottom of his throat. Ironwood seemed to get angrier as Robin went on; for a moment, Robin thought he had taken the bit a bit too far, and Ironwood was about to chokeslam him.

Ozpin spoke, coming as close to rolling his eyes as Robin had ever seen. "Sometimes, being contrarian is not always a point in your favor, Mr. Dubois. If you didn't wish for his advice, simply say no next time. You are dismissed." Ozpin turned his head to Ironwood. "Forgive him; he gets as prickly as Qrow when he thinks he's being talked down to."

Robin stood and snapped off a lazy two-fingered salute to the professors and the general as he walked out.

-2-

Having been freed from the clutches of angry teachers, Robin sort of wandered for a bit. He had been excused from classes for the day to recover, but the rest of his team was still stuck listening to Port's speeches for the day.

So he did what any man would do if they had an abundant amount of free time on their hands and no one else to annoy. He borrowed, with no intention of returning, a shovel from some shed on the grounds and started digging a hole in the dirt. For no real reason other than abject boredom.

So no shit, there he was. Stood in the middle of the garden, digging a hole and honestly having a great time. The only way this day could go wrong is if an irate blonde were to jump him again.

Then he heard footsteps from behind him, and for a moment, he thought he had just mentally given himself a self-fulfilling prophecy. He calmed as he turned around and saw black hair, amber eyes, and notably unhidden cat ears. As always, the sight of an actual living catgirl made him want to suck start a twelve gauge, but he didn't say that out loud, instead silently greeting her with a smile and a wave.

Her eyebrows raised as she approached. "You hiding a body or something here?"

Robin stabbed his shovel into the dirt and leaned on it. "What, you've never felt the primal urge to just dig a hole before?"

"Can't say I have." She said, almost amused.

"Well, this is where I'll bury my hopes and dreams. Thankfully, my hopes and dreams are immortal. So my plan is to dig the grave, punch myself in the face until I forget, and just walk away. That way, no one will ever remember where they're buried. And if you don't know how to bury something dead, canonically, they're immortal. Pretty sure that's in the Torah or something." Robin rambled out, the words coming in an almost nonsensical jumble.

"I think I understood about half of that." She said. "What's a Torah? That an anime?"

"Anime? No, I don't know what that is, miss. Sounds like some kinda of tropical disease from an island. I never read about it in the Good Book, and I base my expectations on what is or isn't kosher on the word of God." Robin clicked his tongue. "That's how I know to hate bald people, and having a huge johnson is legal in the eyes of God. It's all there in the book. 2 Kings 2:23 and Ezekiel 23:30."

Blake's face quickly became one of utter confusion. It's like she genuinely couldn't process it. Does not compute. Solve for X when X is Fuck You. "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you are referencing whatever religion you hold to and not rambling like a deranged madman."

"You'd assume correct," Robin said.

"So what is this Good Book?" She said, testing the ordinary words, which now held an unfamiliar meaning.

Robin laughed and waved her off. "Just a set of rules and ideas to follow to keep your nose clean. Same as the law. No biggie. Now, what did you come all this way out here for? Couldn't be just for my stellar conversation."

Blake seemed a bit confused about the sudden topic change but shook her head and spoke. "Right, I wanted to talk to you about the White Fang."

Robin nodded. "Well, what about 'em?"

She seemed to pause for a moment before she spoke. "... why you?"

"What?" Robin asked.

"Why are you fighting the Fang?" She clarified.

"I don't know if I like the implications here." He said.

"You're… you're you. I could discount Cardin as just wanting to beat on some Faunus; even then, that's doing a disservice to him. So why you?" She asked once more.

The question brought Robin up short, and he paused for a moment. He eventually let out a long breath. "I think it's…" It's what? His brain seemed to struggle for an answer.

Eventually, he started again. "I don't know how y'all do things around here or what you believe in. But I believe your soul is the only thing a person really has. I've seen enough to doubt a lot, but I never doubted that. Y'know? Dad might smack you bloody for talking back; your girl might tell you she's pregnant–all of that stuff? When you go to your maker, peaceably or otherwise, you don't get the chance to say, 'Actually, funny story about that one' or 'I ain't had a choice.' Words don't mean nothing then, and you ain't always gotta go to a good place when you die."

"So… you wanted to do something you viewed as good?" She asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," he said with a casual shrug. "Got it in one. Proud of you. No need to beat around the bush."

"What can I say? You seem to make it a point of pride to take a path four miles away from the bush, to then meander back out in front of it before stepping around it." She said, vaguely amused.

"Something like that. I often find old writers figure out how to word things better than I can with my own mouth." Robin said. He wasn't the smartest man by his own admission. Maybe it was his own fault. Maybe he didn't pay enough attention in school or something. It just made times like these all the more challenging, where his mouth couldn't keep up with the weird mismatch of words and feelings in his head box.

She laughed a bit before trailing off as a frown crossed her face. "Tell me, were they really working with him?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific for me. There were a lot of people there." Robin said.

"Were they working with Torchwick?" She asked, almost in a whisper.

"Yeah.. yeah, they were." He said slowly.

There was a long moment of silence as Blake seemed to process his words. It looked like she had been punched in the gut by them. However, eventually, she drew herself up.

"What did you tell me… that I had to wait for the scar tissue to form? Let it become part of my mask? Well… I think they're done. And now that they are. I think I'm ready to start making new ones." She said with determination. "I need to talk to my team, but I'll reach out to you again later."

She began to walk off, leaving Robin alone—shovel in hand, half-dug hole behind him.

"Hmm," He grunted. What else was there to really say? There was nothing else he knew how to say; he just felt… tired. No jokes. No witty comments.

Just a lone grunt as he watched her leave.

Well gadies and lentlmen. That's volume one done, I honestly didn't really think I'd get this far, but I did. So uh suppose I ain't got much of a choice but to keep the show running. As always, call out any mistakes, weird shit, or just shit ya don't like. Hope y'all enjoy and have a wonderful day!