I do not own Bloodborne or RWBY.
A very special thank you to Patrons; your support is the fuel that lets my creativity burn all the brighter. So, thank you to – E-Elf, Lee yang, Laplase, DocBot200, Richard, SkeletalPheonix Games, James Armstrong, Reed Gel, Alex and Jared Whitten.
I hope this story continues to be worthy of your support.
Chapter 10 Direct Havoc
"Arghhhh!"
"My arm! My fucking arm!"
"Wait, just wait, I said wai- *Crack*- Ahhhhh!"
Scarlett flinched at every noise; she knew her brother was terrifying, she had first-hand experience with it, but that did not mean she was prepared for what she had to listen to. But Jaune had given her strict instructions, and she needed to be near the door; it was up to her to ensure the jammer she borrowed from Matt kept working.
She also had to keep her eye on the clock; she was tasked with keeping them on schedule. They didn't have long, but Jaune had promised her they would have sufficient time, and she was more than willing to trust him. He had earned that much from her.
She owed him that much.
When the noises started, she had looked away almost immediately, heeding her brother's warning, and she had not glanced through the window even once. She was tempted to, even going so far as to look over her shoulder, but upon catching a glance at the broken glass, she had decided she didn't want to.
Now though she was getting nervous, time was almost up, and they needed to be moving, or the plan wouldn't work. When the timer hit zero, a weight dropped in her gut, and she swallowed with a dry mouth, realising she would have to enter the gym and go against Jaune's instructions.
Turning about, she picked up the jammer, sliding the things strap over her shoulder, the device about as big as a thick laptop and slid the shovel out of the door handles, the tool clattering to the floor with a light metallic ring. She paused to grab her axe and steeled herself, doing her best to be ready to face anything on the other side of the door.
She didn't know what she expected to see when she opened the door.
She was not sure of how bad things would be.
They were bad.
Not even four meters from the entryway was a male teenager lying on the ground, clasping his broken arm as he writhed in his vomit. Scarlett noted he wasn't on the list and concluded that Jaune must have encountered more resistance than he had planned for. Scarlett saw similar scenes all over the gym, teen males laid out across the court, some squirming, others unmoving.
Her eyes kept scoping out the room until they settled on her brother's golden hair, and her heart skipped a beat as she felt ice chill her veins.
She couldn't make out a lot with his back to her, but the blood dripping from the bat in his grasp and the coating of red on his knuckles painted a messy image.
He had cornered seven teens in the far corner of the gym near the back exit. Scarlett saw the fear, the way they huddled together trembling as Jaune approached and something in her twitched.
Was this right?
Then she thought of her younger sister, her throat, the bruises, the tears.
Her empathy died a swift death.
But their time constraints remained, so she bellowed at the top of her lungs just as Jaune began swinging his bat.
"JAUNE!"
Her brother's swing stopped as he whipped about, causing Scarlett to gasp as she saw his face for the first time. It was utterly bathed in blood, starting from his forehead and dribbling beneath his shirt. There were flecks of it in his hair, and along his collar, it gave him the appearance of wearing a gruesome mask.
When he saw her, she saw confusion flicker in his eyes as his head tilted ever so slightly. He looked ready to communicate but was beaten to the punch as the girl behind him shrieked loudly. "Help us! Please!"
Jaune's bat was a blur as he jabbed it back, sinking its broad head into the teen girl's guts, silencing her with a groan. Her hair was a light pink and cut in a neat short bob, her skin light, and she was notably short. Her face seemed scrunched up, almost squashed, and her red eyes made Scarlett think of lab rats.
Scarlett recognised her as China Clay and almost smirked at her pain.
Saphron had made sure to mention how much joy she had found in her suffering, the sadistic bitch.
"Sister, I told you to wait for my signal," Jaune exclaimed calmly, not moving as his eyes cruelly glossed over the cornered teens, his cold voice carrying easily across the near-empty gym.
"You took too long, times up, and our window is closing. I need the Scrolls now!" Saphron explained hastily as she walked around a downed boy who was sobbing as he writhed on the floor.
Hearing this, Jaune showed a flash of emotion, his face scrunching up as frustration flickered in his eyes. "… out of practice," Scarlett heard him mumble as he took a step back from the cornered girls.
"You three," he ground out, pointing at the last three teens who weren't on the list, the three girls flinching as his bloody bat raised to their eye level. "Do you have your Scrolls on you?"
The girls quickly nodded, one rummaging in their pocket while the other two held them out; Jaune grunted at this lowering his bat. "Give them to my sister, and you may leave… you will probably be able to retrieve them later from the sheriff's department," Jaune instructed, letting them pass as he turned his hate-filled glare on the others. Three of them trembled as they realised how utterly damned they were.
One stepped in front of the others.
Jaune shifted and eyed the girl warily. She was not afraid, not like the others, her breath was heightened, and her hands twitched, but she seemed… ready. Jaune moved so that he was in front of Scarlett, who was telling the other three girls to find better friends.
Jaune recognised her; her ivy green hair matched her dark eyes of a similar shade. Her skin was tanned, and he could tell she was no stranger to the sun, her height put the top of her head just under his chin, and the muscles on her body made him wary of her confidence.
Her stance shifted his caution to outright alertness.
She knew how to fight.
Jaune made ready to pounce, the Hunter back in full as he made ready to disable her swiftly, lest she harms Scarlett.
His attack was halted when she held out her Scroll.
"Here… I would rather not have to visit the hospital…." She explained plainly, her voice coming across as dry and unemotive.
"Citron!" Artichoke Hayes screamed in outrage.
Citron turned back to the girl and gave her a glare that carried an impressive amount of venom, "I warned you this would happen… warned you that picking a fight with a Huntsman family was a bad idea, well guess what, I am not going to rehab for a snapped spine because you got jealous."
When Citron turned back to Jaune, she opened the Scroll and showed the pictures, "Arti sent them to me, I took none on my own, and I haven't sent them to anyone… I did harm you sister, and for that, I apologise, knowing that it likely means nothing to you…."
At this, Scarlett spoke, "you are aware that the sheriff will most likely want to talk to you. You aren't escaping this!" Jaune's older sister snarled, the axe in her grip coming up as she brandished it, causing the other girls to back up even more at the sight of the deadly weapon.
Citron merely raised her hands and nodded.
"I am aware of that, but I would rather face a court of my peers than your brother if it's all the same to you…." Citron spoke calmly, earning a disgusted sneer from Scarlett, who lowered her axe.
"… Slide your Scroll to me, and you can leave," Scarlett dismissed the girl placing a hand on Jaune's shoulder, her grip firm but not restricting. This girl did as instructed and walked around Jaune, giving him and his sister a wide berth. She spoke up once more when she was on his opposite side.
"China, we are through… don't try to contact me. I blame you for this," with her piece said, she darted out of the gym.
Still clutching her bruised gut, China seemed to choke up for a second but could not process much as Jaune's hand wrapped around her throat. He brought her to his eye level, his sister staring at the girl with no small amount of malice either as he spoke plainly. "Give me your scroll, or Scarlett can search your unconscious body for the thing," he demanded, shaking the choking girl by her throat.
China had heard enough and handed over the Scroll swiftly, Jaune tossing her aside as soon as she did. China cried after she landed. She was overwhelmed by the fear and hurt in her body like a disgusting storm that made her feel sick.
"Shut. Up." Scarlett hissed at the teen, her eye filled with fury as she saw the picture still open on China's scroll. The sight of her vulnerable and distressed younger sister reignited her rage, and the fact that this pathetic bully dared to act the victim made some very dark thoughts swarm in her head.
China stifled her sobs, crawling away from the furious blonde as she covered her face, a fruitless attempt to hide from the Arc's wrath as she fled.
"Right… the ringleader and the traitor, hurry up now," Scarlett snarled, resting her axe on her shoulder.
"Wait! I-"
"Jaune," Scarlett spoke, her implication clear as he stepped forward, his bat eager to swing.
"No!" Orchid Praetor shrieked, daring to try and dart past Jaune, her fearful eyes full of tears as she shoved Artichoke into the blond boy as a distraction.
She managed to slip by Jaune, who just missed with a rebuttal swing, the weapon missing by an inch as his arm was restricted by the terrified Arti, who swiftly found her scream muffled by Jaunes hand clamping about her jaw like a vice.
Scarlett suffered no such obstacle.
Orchid's eyes widened.
The axe swipe was a thing of beauty, perfectly angled. Had she aimed for her throat, it could have taken the traitor's head off. But Scarlet's aim was a bit higher, and her mercy a bit greater than Jaune's… while her word may not have bound her, she still lacked the means to commit murder.
That didn't stop the butt of the axe from utterly decimating Orchid's teeth and sending the girl twisting in a complete 180. Her mouth was already filling with blood as tooth chips clung to the roof of her mouth.
When she went down, she went down hard.
She was knocked out in a single blow.
"… Not bad," the Hunter chimed in, Jaune giving an appreciative nod.
"Ahh… oops, is she dead?" Scarlett worried.
"No, her chest is still moving… if you would like yours to continue to do the same vermin, I recommend surrendering your Scroll now. I will not ask again," Jaune stated, his grip on Artichoke's jaw strengthening until tears rolled down the teen bully's cheeks.
Arti, her nose breathing frantically as she pawed about her shorts for her Scroll; when she finally grasped her Scroll, she tossed the thing at Scarlett's feet, her muffled screaming begging the Arc woman to take it. The Hunter saw Scarlet pick the device up and place it in the jammer's carry case with the others and give him a confirming nod,
Jaune, eager to proceed, tossed the sobbing Arti aside.
The girl hit the floor and scrambled to her feet, fleeing like a scolded rat as she shrieked, fleeing the gymnasium. Scarlett watched her go, her brows furrowed as she turned to Jaune, who tossed his bloody bat aside and rubbed his knuckles carefully. "You just let her go… the China girl too?" Scarlett pointed out, confused by the show of leniency.
Jaune looked at his sister and gave her a smirk that sent chills down her spine, "for now."
Scarlett gulped and reminded herself that this was her brother. She trusted him explicitly. She just wished that she also didn't think he was one of the most utterly terrifying people she had ever met in her whole life.
"What now?" Scarlett asked, trying her best to shake such unnecessary thoughts from her head.
Jaune wasted no time in his response, moving swiftly to the boys laid out across the gym court, "we stick to the plan; gather their Scrolls. Rust and Pine are there and there." Jaune instructed, moving swiftly, kicking one boy over so that he could check his pockets. "Might need to check their bags too. This guy doesn't have one," Jaune called out, moving to the packs still left in the bleachers.
The two Arc siblings moved quickly, Scarlett watching with half an eye as her brother all but ripped the bags apart in his eagerness to find the devices. She felt an obscure warmth in her chest as she observed the haste with which Jaune moved, his focus entirely devoted to protecting his sister.
"Just like he did for me…." Scarlett muttered to herself.
"That's all of them!" Jaune announced, hurrying over to Scarlett, holding the last two Scrolls.
"Awesome, Matt assured me he can make sure the pictures are erased and track if they have been sent to anyone else," Scarlett assured her brother.
"… And you trust this, Matt… these pictures are harmful, won't he have to see them to-"
"Saph already gave me the all-clear. She said as long as it means she no longer has to worry about them, I can do 'whatever is necessary'… her words exactly."
Jaune gave this a firm nod; he went to say something but was cut off by tires screeching outside. Without thinking, he snatched the axe from Scarlett's grasp and marched to the back door. In but a single swing, he put the head of the axe right in the door's seam, a heavy splitting noise ringing out as he followed up with an elbow charge that had the door swinging wide open.
Jaune exited the building ready for a fight, expecting to see the sheriff's cars or perhaps even a Hunter vehicle. Instead, he saw a van he didn't recognise. That didn't stop him from reading the axe in his grasp, but Scarlett halted this as she exclaimed excitedly, "wait, it's Matt!"
The van doors slid open to reveal a young man with a wiry frame, his face marked by deep eye bags and morning shadow as he waved Scarlett over. There was another man in the back dressed in a monotone suit with a green and silver tie, his eyes obscured by a pair of jet-black shades.
Jaune knew him as an employee of Mr Brown, Scarlett's boss with whom he was only faintly acquainted.
"Go quickly. We are already behind schedule. Get the pictures handled, put an end to this nightmare… for Saphron," Jaune said confidently, looking at his big sister with a bloodied grin. "I am counting on you sister, remember hurry back… I would prefer not to pick a fight with the sheriffs."
"And again, I will remind you not to do that," Scarlett warned, her eyes narrowing at her only brother as she jabbed a finger at him.
Jaune's rebuttal went unheard as he heard the distant sound of sirens. His expression turned hard as he quickly hurried Scarlett to the vehicle. "Go! Go! They are on their way!"
Scarlett sprinted, throwing herself into the van that took off without even closing the door, Jaune's last sight of the wiry Matt with an armful of his sister.
… He would have to keep an eye on that one.
Jaune walked back into the Gym.
He was alone again, but there was no haze.
Only the smell of blood and a sense of purpose.
He sat on the bleachers, the borrowed axe resting on his leg and waited. When both sets of gym doors burst inwards, he didn't so much as twitch. The shouts and shocked gasps faded in an out of focus as Jaune smiled.
He felt so…
So…
Awake
"Put your hands up!"
"Weapon!"
"Hands now!"
Jaune chuckled. He could smell the anxious energy in the air, the mixing of fear and shock, the mixture of professional seriousness and bravado. He raised his bloody hands in the air, his teeth bared in a predatory smile as his blood-caked face looked towards the most familiar voice.
"Howdy, sheriff," Jaune spoke, his voice carrying a genuine friendliness made all the more disturbing by his blood-smeared appearance.
"… By the Brothers… Arc?" The man whispered, his gun not lowering for a second. That's what Jaune liked about the man. He had a good sense about him, a solid head on his shoulders.
Jaune rose very slowly, kicking the axe to the side, watching as shoulders tensed and guns shifted, eyes darting between his bloody knuckles, his crimson face and the clean axe.
Jaune cleared his throat before announcing loudly, "Sheriff! I would like to report a crime!"
YVYVYVYVY
Jaune Arc's reputation preceded him.
The officers were very cautious around him, they spoke in hushed whispers, and many of them seemed hesitant to even come near him. The sheriff had been the exception, the burly man marching up to him and slapping handcuffs on his hands and feet. The man gave him a tired glare when Jaune commented on how he would like to report his crime.
He didn't seem to take Jaune's comment seriously.
Jaune blamed the blood on his face.
The sheriff had hurried away, talking into his radio, his officers milling about collecting evidence. Finally, the room seemed to come alive as Pine awoke screaming, pointing horridly at him as he gave throaty howls of terror. Jaune's fury was still far from spent, and he had no issue snarling at the boy who went ahead and soiled himself.
That had earned him much ire.
Time marched on, the sun was on the precipice of setting, and Jaune was beginning to wonder just how long it would take Scarlett's friend to deal with the Scrolls. Maybe he should spend some time researching software. His tutor might appreciate a new topic. The two of them had been going over history stringently.
It was the one topic they always came back to, Jaune's paranoia mixing with his curiosity to drive him to know all potential avenues of godly influence.
No matter how much time passed, he still worried.
Worried about awaking in those blood-soaked streets once more.
Jaune was brought out of his introspection by a crisp smack to the back of his head, the blow knocking him to his side. Jaune's surprise barely lasted a moment as he retaliated, sending his bare feet to crash into whoever had struck him. His reward was being hoisted by his feet and dangled upside down.
"Are you out of your bloody mind!" A familiar voice roared.
"Oh… greetings doctor, you know it wrong to abuse prisoners in custody," Jaune chastised, ceasing his struggles and dangling limply. The man holding him aloft was none other than Dr Kaiser. The man's face a picture-perfect depiction of overwhelming frustration.
The doctor had not changed much since Jaune first met him; his warm brown skin had a few more wrinkles, and his beard was now down to the centre of his chest, but otherwise, the old doctor seemed intent on aging as slowly as he possibly could.
Now, Jaune was preoccupied with looking up into his granite-like eyes, the tint of green to them only emphasising the pissed-off expression the semi-retired Huntsman was wearing.
"I'll show you abuse, you little shit! What the hell, brat? You decide mum and dad are busy, so you go on a fucking rampage!" Dr Kaiser roared, shaking an uncaring Jaune around.
"I assure you my actions are completely justified, if of questionable legality, and that as soon as I can make my report to the sheriff, all will become clear," Jaune explained, giving an upside-down shrug.
"' Questionable!' what part of outright assault is fucking questionable!" Kaiser's voice boomed, Jaune wondering if the noise was part of his Semblance.
"As I said, when I give my report, all will be made clear," the boy reaffirmed.
"Kid, they can't take your report without your parents present, or did you forget you still qualify as a damnable minor!" Kaiser raged, flipping Jaune upright and holding him by his shoulders. The doctor lifted him to eye level, his gaze locking onto Jaune's as his feet still swung in the air.
"My… I never noticed how tall you are, doctor. How curious," Jaune commented, his tone light.
"Jaune, this is serious… you don't honestly think you can get away with what you did here… Please tell me you were not banking on the authority of your parents to get you out of trouble," Dr Kaiser hissed, his voice laced with concern for the only son of Arc.
Jaune frowned at this, his eyes turning sheer as he glared at the doctor, "do not dare to presume I would ever act in such a disgraceful manner."
"Well, forgive me if I fail to see any honour here, Jaune!" The man whisper shouted into Jaune's blood-caked face.
At this, Jaune shut his trap, knowing it was not time for him to speak. He needed to make it an official report so that his reason was on record. Not only would that buy time for them, but it would also allow Saphron to pursue legal action should she desire. A win-win in Jaunes book.
"How is the Elder investigation going," Jaune said, changing the subject and earning an exasperated groan from the old huntsman.
"Don't do that, don't dodge the subject," The doctor groused, placing Jaune back in his seat.
"I'm not. As you said, I am a minor, my mother was called in, and my father was on patrol today," Jaune explained.
"Mm, shitty timing, no signs yet, but we can't take the risk, not with how close the suspected sighting was to town," the doctor explained, pulling out some bottled water and gauze. "Right, where are you hurt?"
"… I think I have a bruise on my palm, and I took a blow on my forearm… oh, and my knuckles might have split," he explained disinterestedly.
"… You and your damn pain tolerance. Is any of this blood yours?" The doctor growled.
"… Maybe knuckles; otherwise, no," Jaune answered, his tone bored.
"… Wipe your face off," Dr Kaiser ordered, passing Jaune a wet rag. The boy quickly followed the instructions. He figured it would not do to appear bloodied in case his other sisters spotted him.
He didn't want to worry them after all.
"You said you had a reason, that your actions are justified… is it a good reason," the doctor asked softly, his voice so low only Jaune could hear it.
Jaune whispered back just as softly, the wet rag still over his face, "the best reason, doctor."
The doctor sniffed at Jaune's reply, giving a low hum in response.
Soon after, Dr Kaiser began to tend to Jaune's knuckles, wiping them off with an alcohol-soaked cotton tab, Jaune noting how it tingled on his split flesh. The doctor was nearly finished when there was another commotion near the front door, and a pack of people marched into the gym, having to be halted by the officers.
"Oh, this can't be good," Dr Kaiser grunted.
Jaune had the honest audacity to look at the old doctor and smirk, "no doctor, it looks just about right."
YVYVYVYVY
"What do you mean you have to wait? I demand the boy be punished immediately that savage brutalise my daughter; she is in surgery as we speak!" a woman with piercing white hair shrieked in the administration office. Her finger shaking in rage, stabbing at Jaune, who, for the most part, was sitting quietly, biding his time.
The sheriff spoke in his deep voice, exhausted as he gave the hollering woman a hard stare, "and as I have stated, madam, we cannot do that. We are in the midst of an investigation, and certain protocol that is currently engaged prohibits us from moving him until further notice."
The woman, having been stonewalled again, turned around and unleashed her ire instead upon the school's principal, the female administrator currently looking very much ready to shoot someone if it got her out of the office. "You! You can do something. I demand you expel this boy immediately!"
The principal's exhausted gaze drifted over to a stoic-faced Jaune and sniffed, her expression twitching at his stable features. When her gaze returned to the white-haired woman, she responded slowly, "the school will have to wait until all facts have been gathered before we can pursue further action, as this is now a matter to be handled by the sheriff's department."
"That's bullshit. He attacked my daughter!" The woman screeched, other parents agreeing as they pressed in, surrounding her desk.
"That remains to be seen," the principal responded tiredly.
At this, the woman's eyes turned crazed as she slammed her balled fists on the desk and screamed, "are you calling my child a liar!"
Before the principal could respond, there was more loud onerous shouting from the hall. The commotion eventually spilled into the office as more adults piled in alongside officers. They all commenced talking at once, hollering for attention and demanding answers to their question. Jaune saw the cold glare the sheriff sent at his officers and watched as they shrunk into themselves.
"Is that him?" One voice chimed up louder than the others. In an instant, Jaune was hoisted from his seat by a man frothing at the mouth, shaking him violently.
Jaune responded in kind.
*Crack*
A bloodcurdling screaming sounded in the room as the man collapsed to the ground holding out his hand and his very obviously broken thumb. The digit twisted around to face the wrong direction, the sight and sound silencing the room apart from his pained caterwauling.
"Goddammit, you stupid man, Yama, get Doc Kaiser," the Sheriff ordered, pulling Jaune back into his seat and looming over him.
"Self defence," Jaune shrugged. The sheriff went to say something but couldn't get a word in edge-wise with the blubbering of the man behind him.
"Will you shut up! Imbecile! Going after a detained man like that, did you miss the double cuffs? The sheriff standing right next to him? The police guard outside? You ever dare to lay a hand on my prisoner again, and I will be the one breaking bones, you thick in the head, shit heel." The sheriff exploded, causing the collection of adults to back off.
The sheriff wasn't done, though, and whipped around to Jaune, "hands to yourself."
Jaune shrugged.
The room seemed to pause as an officer led the man with the broken thumb out to await attention from Dr Kaiser. Jaune couldn't help but notice that all the other adults proceeded to stay on the far side of the room. It seemed he had made an impression.
"Sheriff, can you tell me what is going on? My sons are in the hospital; they said they were attacked along with several other students. Did this young man do it? What about the others?" A large man spoke up, his sunny tan skin marked with distinct markings Jaune recognised immediately.
"You're Urolu…" Jaune spoke up, his eyes locked onto the man who spoke.
The man, marked with tribalist tattoos, turned to face Jaune, his eyes carrying hurt and anger as he gave Jaune a distrustful glare. "What of it," he spoke, words curt.
"Your sons are the twins… they fought well," Jaune chimed up, setting off the room's occupants, who descended into a veritable frenzy. The sheriff silenced them by letting fly a whistle sharp enough to make your ears ring. Jaune, who sat beside the man, fought the urge to elbow him.
His ears had caught the brunt of that.
"You fought my sons?" The man accused, his fists balling up as he spoke.
Jaune nodded the affirmative, "I originally had no intention of engaging them, but they attacked me first. You will see as much on the security footage," Jaune shifted in his seat, the sheriff sending him a pointed glare, silently communicating for Jaune to stop moving.
"Why did they fight you," The man spoke once more, now with his arms crossed.
"I assume they saw me taking my revenge and deemed it necessary to intercede… you can tell their mother they fought well. I assume she has trained them to work well together… they play a tackle sport?" Jaune spoke; his tone was almost cordial.
"Football," the man replied, now clearly unsettled.
"Mmm… she should remind them not to lead with their heads. It's fine when they have helmets, not so great when it is their bare skulls they expose," Jaune spoke, nodding to himself.
"… Are you saying you fought the six boys alone?" the Urolu man spoke, his face scrunching up, his tattoos almost stabbing into each other as he did so.
"Yes, I did… As I said, I originally intended to confront just two of the boys. The other four just got in the way… I promise you it was nothing personal," Jaune shrugged.
He had not gotten his last word out when the woman with the pure white hair exploded into a rambling fit, her voice carrying a triumphant cheer. "There! There! He admits it. Now arrests him!"
The sheriff was forced again to speak up, "Woman! He is already in custody! And here we shall stay until I say otherwise… also since he is a minor, the confession is inadmissible as he did not have a parent, guardian, or advocate present."
"But he just said he did it!" The woman shrieked.
"Laws the law," the sheriff shrugged.
"Fuck that, I dema-"
The sheriff's gun was out and resting on his lap.
The room went as silent as the grave.
"The law is the law… end of the story," the sheriff repeated, broaching no argument.
"Wait… adolescents can be tried as adults if the crime is a violent or emotive one!" the woman chimed up, her face a vicious sneer as she glared at Jaune.
"This is not a trial…" the sheriff spoke up, his frustration evident as he grit his teeth.
"Ahh, but if he is within six months of turning eighteen, he can be handled as an adult, so how about it, you little shit, when's your birthday," the woman spat, sneering at a bored Jaune.
"Next month," Jaune answered plainly.
"Perfect, I demand you arrest him, or I promise you I will be suing you, the sheriff's department and the entirety of Reach for this failure of due process," The woman finished, the other parents cheering at her apparent success of hurrying along justice.
Only the Urolu man remained silent, his inquisitive gaze stuck to Jaune.
The principal was the one to speak up this time, her tone now laced with whole new kinds of frustration, "yeah, he still can't do that."
"Mrs Litt, I suggest you clam up as I can promise you that this school is already in for a world of hurt, do not agitate me further."
"Mrs Praetor I am try-"
"I don't want to hear it," the woman yelled, spittle flying at the tired principal, who wiped her face. Her expression slowly transformed as her eye twitched violently. With performative slowness, she turned to face Jaune, her expression shifting to a polite smile with a vindictive gleam in her eye.
"Jaune… what do you have planned for your thirteenth birthday?" The principal asked in a sickly-sweet voice.
Again, the room erupted.
Again, the sheriff moved his gun, holding it loosely in his grasp.
And Again, silence reigned.
"Your thirteen," a quiet woman asked, looking at Jaune aghast.
"Twelve at the moment," Jaune replied blandly.
"… You are saying my sons lost to a twelve-year-old when they had him outnumbered?" the Urolu man spoke up. "Do you mock me! You said they fought well!"
Jaune, at this, perked up, giving the islander man a stern look, "I assure you they did… relative to their friends, both showed off quality footwork and teamwork, as well as a solid perception of spacing."
"But you beat them," the Urolu man stated.
"I have beaten far worse," Jaune replied, his eye alit with fire as he recalled his worst opponents.
At this, the sheriff snorted, earning many a questioning gaze from the frazzled parents. Before they enquired about what he found amusing, the door opened again. This time it was a teacher and an officer who entered.
"Sorry to bother ya boss, was with 'Mageek when I caught this guy in the halls, said he worked here, that true miss?" A handsome officer asked the principal, who gave an affirmative nod.
"Yes, Mr Heard is a teacher here, officer," Mrs Litt explained gratefully, just happy for the distraction from the parents.
"Good just needed to confirm. You will need to stay here, sir. We need to keep track of everyone on the school grounds for the moment," The handsome officer explained sternly before leaving the office again.
Jaune didn't know why but suddenly, he felt on edge.
The teacher, Mr Heard, went straight to the parents and was welcomed with warm recognition… by almost every parent. 'How strange,' Jaune thought, observing how the man received hugs and friendly pats as he talked to each of the adults. The teacher even went so far as to kiss the soft-spoken woman on the cheek, her eyes misty as he said something to her.
This continued for a while; eventually, the new teacher and the parents began discussing things in a hushed whisper. Jaune ignored it, happy to await his sister's return and the successful conclusion of the plan. But something in him still stirred, and despite his best efforts, he could not ignore the hushed chatter.
Eventually, his ire won out seeing them talking and pointing at him with about as much subtlety as a rampaging Goliath; he chose to speak up. "It is rude to point," Jaune ground out, glaring at the group.
A few seemed taken aback before the staff member shot back a swift rebuttal, "funny to hear talk of manners from a little thug like yourself."
"Yet I speak of them all the same," Jaune replied, narrowing his eyes at the man before him; something about him was upsetting Jaune viscerally.
His skin was pale; he was nearly hairless save his head, where a shock of blue hair curled at the edges, framing his face. The man had blue eyes, their colour dull like deep gloomy puddles. He smiled a lot, smile lines at the edge of his face indicating as much. The same smile was present on his face even now.
Jaune didn't know why but he would very much like to tear that smile from his face.
"Mr Heard, please keep your opinions to yourself," The principal admonished, rubbing her temples.
The man's smile widened, "of course Mrs Litt, I just found myself compelled to speak. It is such a shame to see so many families harmed by one rotten egg's actions… a failing of his family-"
That did it.
Jaune was standing in an instant, only the presence of the Sheriff halted him, the man's hand holding onto Jaune's shoulder in an ironclad grip.
"You would do well to keep talk of my family out of your mouth, sir. I have no tolerance for those who trespass against my loved ones," Jaune spoke up, his fists clenching to the point his knuckles popped and the cuffs dug into his wrists.
"Oh?" The teacher chimed in, his eyes going over his shoulder. "How barbaric to resort to threats so easily?"
Jaune snorted; he had been called far worse than barbaric.
He could be far worse than barbaric.
"How pathetic, a sickly-looking thing that continues to squawk and bluster, keep squeaking, little rat, and someone might just do you the service of stepping on you," Jaune mused, returning to his seat calmly.
"You listen-"
With Jaune once again sitting, the sheriff was across the room in two strides, his face a breath from the teachers as he hissed under his breath, "you seem to like to talk; let us see if you can listen if you keep trying to agitate my prisoner, I will personally arrest you… I will not do so gently."
The staff member surrendered, his hands raised as he departed with a haughty glare spared for both the sheriff and Jaune.
But his goal was accomplished.
"That's it… You jump to his defence? Mr Heard didn't say anything that wasn't true!" Mrs Praetor spoke up, her voice far louder than needed in the office space.
"Mrs Praetor, I understand you have undergone much upheaval but do not make me issue the same ultimatum," the sheriff warned.
"… I pity the failures that spawned you, boy," Mrs Praetor hissed, her smile victorious as she waited for Jaune's explosive reaction.
"Mrs Praetor!" Two voices cried in warning, but it was far too late.
"Mrs Praetor… Your daughter, Orchid, is nothing more than a wretched little smear on the face of Remnant. Her existence brings down the entirety of her species, a spot of filth mixed in with the collective population. You should know it was, in fact, the actions of her and her five accomplices that saw me needing to step in today… resulting in the unnecessary hospitalisation of four uninvolved children. Curious, isn't it? How destructive one little parasite can be," Jaune lectured, his tone clinical as he picked at his nails.
"Jaune, don't," The sheriff warned, moving to stand between the two.
"How! Dare! You!" Mrs Praetor screamed, moving forward only to be stopped by the outstretched hand of the Sheriff. "I don't know what drunken failures raised you, boy, but I promise you I will see you pay, dregs like you should be thrown to the Grimm!"
"I'm curious… how many teeth will your daughter need to have replaced? And her jaw? Just think of the reconstruction… I wonder if it will help her in the long run. Keep her from turning into a belligerent wailing gnat so much like yourself… might save her from looking like you as well," Jaune sniped back, his anger well and truly awakened now as this woman dared to speak ill of his parents.
"Jaune, enough!" The sheriff bellowed, having to restrain Mrs Praetor as she lunged for the boy.
"Shoot him! Shoot this little shit! I will see you, dead brat! My daughter will watch as the life drains from your eye, you son of a worthless bitch!" Mrs Praetor screamed, clawing at Jaune.
"Insult my mother one more time, you craven twat and I will crush your lungs in my hands and silence you for good," Jaune proclaimed, rising from his seat only to be met with three different firearms pointed at him.
"Boy, don't do it," one of the officers warned.
"Jaune, sit your ass down now!" The sheriff demanded, pointing his weapon towards a fuming Jaune, whose eyes bounced between the guns.
His mind sparked with wicked thoughts as he glared at the wretched thing continuing to spew vile obscenities… its only three guns.
"Jaune, don't do it!" the sheriff repeated louder to be heard over the screaming woman he was holding back.
"Mr Arc, please," Principal Litt pleaded.
It was then that the Urolu man spoke up, his voice lost in the mayhem save to himself and the other parents caught up in the situation, "wait… Arc!" he exclaimed, the name immediately familiar.
Jaune leaned forward, the Sheriff's gun pressed to his head, his hands twitched, and the shouting continued. Praetor was screeching the whole time, "kill him! Kill him!"
The officers moved.
Voices were raised.
The principal begged for calm.
The parents looked on aghast.
Fingers moved to triggers.
The Hunter prepared to move.
*CRASH*
The window and a portion of the wall behind the principal exploded, casting debris and paper about the office and in an instant following the tumultuous noise, silence reigned.
When the dust settled, Jaune could not help but smile.
"Hello, mother."
YVYVYVYVY
Hellebore Arc stood amid the still chaos around her with her weapons ready to unleash a storm of carnage. She had only laid eyes on the inside of the room for a moment before she entered, but the sight of the sheriff and his officers threatening her son was enough to ignite a maternal fury in her heart.
The random woman shouting obscenities at her son and encouraging the police to shoot him only exacerbated that explosive anger.
Now in the room, she struck a terrible fear into the core of everyone present.
Clad in her Huntress gear, she was death incarnate to these insects.
Her beautiful weapons the terrifying end to their mortal existences.
Bloom and Blight, her darling weapons and the hellish spawn of a tonfa and a Katar going through an identity crisis… also equipped with a custom shuriken launcher. They were perfection, a lethal garden of blades coating her arm in razor-sharp edges capable of cleaving through even the thickest Grimm hide.
The shuriken projectiles, referred to as 'Petals', were primed and ready to pierce and shred as they spun like tiny buzzsaws in their rests, eager to fire; the noise striking fear into the pathetic creatures who saw fit to raise their weapons at her child.
A mistake they deeply regrated judging by their expressions as she brandished Bloom and Blight at those most guilty.
As the dust settled, she saw them look upon her clearly, and saw terror as they beheld a Huntress dressed to kill.
Standing roughly 6'2, she was taller than almost everyone in the room, the only exception being her husband. Her midnight black tresses were done up in a high ponytail, but their length hung below her hips despite the style. Her face was marred by rage, but it did little to detract from her beauty. Her light brown skin practically gave off a warm glow, its shade bearing a tint of orange that came to life beneath her wrath.
Her purple eyes blazed, the regal colour taking on a predatory shine as they trailed across petrified faces hungrily. Her lips were drawn thin, twitching beneath her short, thin nose, the point turned up as she looked down upon her prey.
She was adorned in her Huntress attire, the grim black coverings well suited for her style of speed and manoeuvrability. A stark contrast to her husband, black to his white, light to his heavy, yin to his yang.
Like any good Huntress, she wore protective attire, like her husband favouring Hunter Mesh as a base, which she wore flush against her skin, unlike him though hers was an entire body piece stopping at her neck, wrists and ankles. Also, unlike Cloud, hers was far lighter and very unique, being crafted by her clans' armourers and thus was made with centuries of refined and secret clan techniques.
Cloud's was a heavy top made of unyielding wire that weighed a lot and was unfortunately somewhat restrictive, especially for anyone not as strong as her giant of a husband. Hers was like a second skin, feather-light, impossibly stretchy and capable of reliably halting slashing attacks.
Clad over the net-like covering and shielding her torso was a high-necked, black leotard, the material of its make thick and protective. It consisted of several layers of unique textiles, making the item technically qualify as armour. Still, with the benefit of masterful crafting, it did not inhibit her range of motion. Instead, her torso and most of her vital organs were offered another layer of protection while she could still move with her usual grace and agility.
The well-worn item showed a fair number of scuffs and even a claw groove where something had caught her. Its usual colour was faded to a liquorice black from continued use, with only two splashes of colour upon the protective piece. First, the Arc family crest, her family crest, adorned on her over her heart in her signature purple. Then hidden by other attire and the river of black that was her hair was her emblem, a screaming skull consumed by thorned vines.
To go with her leotard, a pair of gloves made of the same combination of hardy textile covered her arms, the tight leather-like material going up to just above her elbow, halting on the lower half of her bicep. The gloves rested beneath her weapons, hiding the straps sown into them that aided in keeping Bloom & Blight tightly attached to her arms.
She wore little armour as her goal was to be as mobile as possible, and she bore only a single piece on her upper extremities. A pauldron-choker combo made of interlocking plates, the material of which was a closely guarded secret, the colour of the work being charcoal grey to not clash with her attire.
Its design was haunting, the almost burnt-looking plates made to look like the enemy of all sentient life, the plates carved to appear as broken and burnt Grimm masks sewn together with barbed vines.
It didn't stop there, however. If one were to catch sight of her from the rear, one would see the same haunting imagery flow down her back in the form of a short cape that stopped at the base of her spine. A macabre wall of broken Grimm displayed proudly on her back, both a stark warning and inspiring visage.
For her lower half, Hella was equipped with a set of pants that bore a strong resemblance to Umanori Hakama. The pants looked baggy, the material some fibrous weave made up into quilt-like patches. The material even appeared organic, potentially something like bamboo, each square seeming thick enough to provide an excellent defensive layer.
The pants, like Hakama, left her hips and upper thigh uncovered; usually, her flesh would remain hidden by a kimono. Her leotard did not accomplish the same feet; as such, anyone could see a glimpse of the powerful muscle hidden in her thighs.
Around her waist, concealing the hem of her pants, was an obi, its design like braided, barbed vines knotted beautifully at the back, with accents of purple littered across in the form of tiny bud-like shapes that functioned as ammo pouches for her weapons.
Her thick pants were then taped down, the fabric pressed tightly beneath armoured shin guards that protected Hella's shins. The steel plates took the shape of the petals of the flower she was named for, and they were painted to be the deep violet shade she called her own. From between the petals, upturned metal blades jutted out, the gunmetal grey edges providing a frightening prospect for any on the receiving end of a kick.
Instead of shoes, her feet bore enclosed footwear made of fabric-covered Hunter Mesh, the design akin to Tabi socks still worn in Mistral. The fabric was knitted around grip pads that covered the bottom of her feet, making it easy for her to scale surfaces and gain tracking on less-than-optimal surfaces. Over the top of her foot was a protective layer that looked akin to a metal exoskeleton, covering the top of her foot and providing a home for talon-like blades that curled over her toes.
Hellebore Arc, the mother of Jaune Arc, was dressed to kill and very well-equipped to do so.
And she was very, very ready to do so.
"Steady love…" Cloud growled, his baritone voice coming across like the throaty warning of a mighty grizzly.
Hella did not respond; at that moment, she did not possess the wherewithal to do so. Her faculties were utterly compromised. Her self-control, control drilled into her since near birth, was nearly insufficient to stay her hand.
Bloom, adorned on her destructive left arm, was resting upon the open lips of the pale-haired bitch that had been chanting for the murder of her son, its most prominent blade just kissing the tip of her tongue.
Blight, her lethal right hand, was centred on the officers near the office door. The officers on either side stared down the whirring bladed Petals whizzing eagerly to cut and rend their weak flesh. Those behind the door probably thought the wall would provide cover; little did they know that the whirring was her overclocking her Petals to punch through.
"Steady, Hella… Steady," Cloud eased, his voice softer as he spoke to his wife, his face still a terrifying rendition of a maddened giant.
Cloud was also in his Huntsman gear. Only it was not the same as it had once been. Cloud upgraded it after the caravan incident over half a decade ago. His own heart would not let such a thing ever happen again. He could not see his pain spread to his family in such a way.
Not if he could prevent it.
As such, his armour had changed. He had switched from his old singlets to a muscle-hugging long-sleeve shirt that could have been painted on. Its storm-grey colour wrapped around every square inch of his torso tracing the hardened muscle he prided himself on. This change was because the top was a new type of combat diagnostic equipment being introduced to combat teams in Atlas.
Cloud had received it as a gift when he partnered with a Hunter Workshop in Atlas.
Hella had loved that particular gift, even more so when she found out the actual purpose of the top, the tight material being in service of aiding the many diagnostic devices interwoven into the apparel. All of which could connect to his Scroll and be linked to fellow Huntsman in his squad or even a tactical overwatch if the mission had one.
Hella was always 'in' his squad.
Over the new top, Cloud wore his old Hunter Mesh; as there was little, he could do to improve on Tarasque Tier protective Mesh.
His old protective vest was gone, cast away as Ornn, Cloud's new personal armourer had taken a single look at the equipment before deeming that Cloud needed armour, not a sports bra. That was the last time he talked to the Atlesian on speaker as he heard Hella, Scarlett and Saphron all explode into laughter in the adjacent room.
Cloud may not have appreciated the commentary, but when Orrn sent him the replacement gear, he deemed the grouchy goat was more than worth the trouble. Where his old vest had protected his chest, his new armour protected his entire torso back to front, the gear of such quality that Cloud honestly reckoned that even a Leviathan would struggle to crack it.
It came in two parts, first was the 'Warden Mail', shaped like a heavy protective jacket. The piece covered him from his neck to the base of his hips; it was a modern version of Plated Mail. It was ridiculously heavy, with internal mechanisms and crafted with thick protective plates, shock absorbing padding and sewn together with a pierce-resistant textile of proprietary make.
It also benefited from being resistant to extreme temperatures, boasting a significant degree of chemical resistance and insulating against electrical charges. While it covered more of his body and boasted a slew of protective properties, the Warden Mail was less effective than his old armour in terms of pure physical resistance.
By itself, at least.
Ornn called it the 'Warrior Crest' due to its peculiar shape. It looked like Ornn, the mad lunatic, had decided to build a new type of mechanised soldier only to give up halfway through and send it to Cloud as 'armour'.
When Ornn had avoided making direct eye contact with Cloud following his observation, the father of seven decided to stop questioning the crazed blacksmith.
Despite his reservations, Cloud quickly conceded that the armour was indeed highly protective. Ornn described it as 'Ultra Heavy Carapace Armour' because it covered his midsection like a shell. The UHCA was a gunmetal grey, courtesy of Ornn disliking unnecessary painting, and looked like a cuirass in many ways, save one major difference. Instead of being a flat metal plate, the armour had a kind of triangle shape, almost like the bow of a ship, angled armour tapering to a single sharp ridge.
When donned, the armour locked together with the Warden Mail helping to secure the heavy piece of equipment. Once fully attached, a brief whirring would sound as the locks kicked in and the part adjusted to fit. The final locking procedure was announced by the light constricting of Cloud's throat as the Warden Mail pulled a gorget-like section of the Warrior Crest flush to his throat.
Once secure, the armour would transform ever so slightly, mainly in the form of unfolding metal strips covering his stomach in a layer of thinner and, thus, less restrictive plates. The other part that changed was around Cloud's throat, the ridged portion of the armour sliding up along his enclosed throat before encircling the lower half of his face in the form of a triangle-shaped bevor.
With the Warden Mail and Warrior Crest equipped, Cloud was a walking tank. The shape of the armour meant that anything attacking him head-on would struggle to land a direct blow against his armoured torso. But the weight of the armour was genuinely immense, and it was only thanks to his incredible strength, which was impressive even amongst hunters, that he maintained the ability to move.
With the immense weight, Cloud was much slower and sacrificed almost all his agility. Additionally, he was quicker to tire and found his range of motion somewhat encumbered. But Cloud had long since overcome all of these issues, with a combination of carefully selecting his missions and accepting that laying prone in his armour was a stupid idea.
Aside from the new armour, Cloud had also upgraded his other gear.
His pants were much the same, equipped with many pockets and his heavy-duty utility belt; the grey cargo pants had remained almost unchanged. Rather than altering them, they had gained an addition, a sort of armoured waist cape. The item was simple in design and effective in practice, offering protection to his rear and upper thighs while not being too heavy as it was little more than two sown on pouches with an armoured plate in each.
His feet retained his old greaves, the hefty interlocking plates more than sufficient to guard his lower legs. The only other real change was with him sowing additional armour into his heavy trench coat, the thick cloth akin to the gambeson's worn by the knights of old in its purpose.
Cloud kept his colour scheme simple; his armour was gunmetal grey, thick metal accented by the wear of numerous engagements. His armoured coat and waist cape were both stark white and eye-catching. Their unique fabric kept them the same shade of white as it made them the most easily washed gear in the house, much to Hella's envy.
The brightest flash of colour upon his attire was the pure shining silver of the emblems that Cloud displayed proudly upon his person. First, his family emblem emblazoned on his chest, the arcs of the family crest easily visible over his heart. Then on the back of his trench coat, his personal symbol, Hallowed Hrunting in its transformed state, splitting a mountain and then writing beneath that read 'The Silver Lining'.
Altogether Cloud looked like a giant armoured knight, his colossal sword only adding to the image. A weapon befitting the category Ultra Greatsword made all the more terrifying for the ease with which Cloud wielded it.
At present, Hallowed Hrunting rested upon the clavicle of the Sheriff, a fraction of its weight pressing the sharp edge into too-thin flesh as the Sheriff did his best to remain frozen. And Cloud did all this with one hand as he was forced to use his other to cover Hella.
Grasped firmly in his other hand, Cloud wielded the Tier-3 STHS-Mauler Hand Cannon. Vacuo's answer for what to do when any nasty thing made of flesh gets too close for comfort. It was a ridiculous weapon to a regular person, but it was perfect for a giant like Cloud Arc. Fitting snugly in one hand, the massive hand cannon suited him perfectly.
The colossal sidearm looked like someone had taken a regular-sized gun and compressed it on an insane whim. Its short single barrel looked stocky and thick; its sides were adorned by axe-like blades, allowing it to function as an effective melee weapon. Its ammunition was stored in a drum magazine that only carried five rounds.
Five extremely potent rounds. Five massive, deadly rounds capable of reducing you, your friend, his friend and that unfortunate passer-by to a red mist in a single shot. It was a weapon well deserving of its tier-three ranking, and Jaune had seen his father use it once.
The tree had not deserved its fate.
"Father, my apologies. I missed you in all the excitement. Hello to you as well," Jaune chimed up, greeting his father, seemingly oblivious to the gun pressed to his forehead.
"Heya kiddo, dad's gonna need you to close your eyes in a minute if these nice officers don't lower their guns…." Cloud remarked as if commenting on the weather.
"Arc-"
"Sheriff, I am sure you think you have a good reason to point a weapon at my son but allow me to enlighten you on why you are so terribly wrong…." Hallowed Hrunting began to vibrate, a usually invisible seam that ran from its base to the tip, appearing as a hiss rung out in the tranquil office. With a slow gesture, the blade opened up, revealing the transformed Hrunting.
Its blade was seemingly wider as the core in its centre was exposed, revealing a large, perfectly cut Dust Rod of indeterminate nature. The moment it was visible, it was as if the room began to vibrate as if a small thundercrack was softly echoing in the air. And all of this right next to the sheriff's face, the man, to his immense credit, only giving a gentle swallow in response.
"Your weapon, sheriff, lower it, or they will be scraping you out of the cracks for weeks," Cloud threatened slowly, his weapon vibrating even more.
The sheriff did as instructed, taking his weapon away from Jaune's head and holstering it before raising his hands. "Officers, lower your weapons. Your bullets wouldn't even break their Aura," the sheriff sighed, shooting a glance at his men.
"But sir-"
"Are you deaf, do it! These are professional Huntsman, you idiot. Don't play games right now!" The sheriff bellowed, his words getting through to the officers, who quickly lowered their weapons.
"There we go…." Cloud spoke calmly, his sword closing as he removed it from the sheriff's clavicle. "Thank Jett, would have been a shame to have to turn you into a paste," Cloud beamed at the man.
"I wasn't going to shoot Jaune, dammit! I just couldn't have him murder someone in front of me!" Sheriff Jett shouted, glaring up at Cloud as he got his breathing back under control and lowered his arms, making sure they went nowhere near his gun.
"Well, you say that, but things seemed really ten- Umm honey, can you please lower your weapons? The civilian has soiled herself," Cloud asked Hella, who was still glaring at the mother of Orchid Praetor.
"No," Hella hissed.
"Well, what about the nice officers? They put their weapons away?" Cloud pointed out, this time getting Hella to lower Bloom making the lawman relax. "… That will have to do, I suppose…." Cloud sighed with a shrug, holstering his firearm but keeping Hrunting out for the time being.
"I honestly can't believe you threatened me with Hrunting," Sheriff Jett grumbled, rubbing at the mark adjacent to his throat.
"Well, excuse me! I saw a gun pointed at my son and reacted," Cloud huffed.
"With Hrunting! I ain't a young man anymore, Cloud, I ain't got Aura that shits gonna bruise!" Jett raged, pulling his shirt aside to show that there was a gnarly red mark already.
"Would you have preferred the gun?" Cloud asked, genuinely confused by what the sheriff was on about.
"Yes! Use that monster of a weapon on the young blokes!"
"Fine next time I have to threaten you, I will use the Mauler sound fair," Cloud reasoned with a smile.
"That's all I ask," Jett replied, running a hand through his greying sideburns.
"Umm, you know each other, I presume," Principal Litt spoke up, her face showing her bafflement at the exchange between the two men.
"Oh yeah! Sheriff Jett Throw here has been my counterpart in the sheriff department since I moved here!" Cloud enthused, throwing an arm around the more petite man.
"Cloud, get off…." Sheriff Jett grunted, trying unsuccessfully to free himself from the giant hunter.
"Nah, now would someone care to tell me what the fuck is going on before my beautiful wife repaints this office?" Cloud spoke, his smile suddenly hollow as his tone gained a dangerous edge.
"Speak quickly," Hella hissed Blight's blades, still firmly inside Mrs Praetor's mouth. The woman whimpered in her soiled suit pants, her eyes darting about, pleading for help.
But not a single person dared to move.
"Well…" Jett began before glancing at Jaune, who waved at him with cuffed hands. Obviously unwilling to offer any help in this situation.
"… Gods be dammed," The sheriff cursed, turning back to the impatient Arc parents.
A.N.
Behold the plan in motion, muahahaha.
Not going to lie. When I first wrote the descriptions for Hella and Cloud, it was when this was still just a side project.
And that simply wouldn't do and seeing as they were in their Huntsman outfits, it seemed only fitting to take advantage and give my two favourite ocs some love.
And then it got out of hand as has been pointed out to me by one of my lovely patrons, so I apologies I will try to do better going forward.
Also, I want to point some things out as this is an AU fic (obviously).
Firstly, the sheriffs in Vale have substantial power as Lawman and often work very closely with Hunters for duties ranging from investigation to handling Grimm. They have a vast range of authority and can even, in some instances, command Huntsman.
They would need said power to maintain order without the power base of larger cities.
This doesn't mean much, though, when a Huntsman is incensed to the point of contemplating a police massacre which Sheriff Jett Throw realised.
This brings me to my second point, and I have hinted at this before, so let me say it straight up.
REMNANT IS A FUCKING DEATH WORLD.
The number of civilisations that have probably been wiped from existence with no trace simply cannot be counted… BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE NO FUCKING EVIDENCE!
There is a crazed demigod who is categorically immortal and borderline fucking invincible, running around doing as she pleases and has been doing so for millennia. How many of those gone civilisations has she wiped out? Who knows? Here is a better question.
How many has Ozma deleted?
I mean, he has been around himself for a very long time, no?
Been a ruler once, a cult leader, a false god…
It makes you wonder what else he got up to in all those incarnations.
The path to becoming king is rarely easy, and the odds of him being lucky enough to incarnate as a noble directly in line for the throne… hmmm, just something to think about.
Another point as we are talking about a Death World, the very fabric of society is a paper fucking thin illusion. Sure, in a city like the Capitals or Argos, I will concede that life would seem pretty standard, and if everything goes right, you might never even see a Grimm.
But take away large walls, natural obstructions, defensible positions, autocannons, and every other thing those big cities have, and I am sorry, but society as you know it just changed.
This is why the Sheriff backs down quickly in this chapter when two! TWO! Fully trained Hunters armed to the fucking teeth appeared. When the equivalent to the local superhero shows up, ready to reduce you to paste, you stand the fuck down.
They are faster than you, stronger than you and have literal fucking superpowers.
Oh, and to top it off are bulletproof.
Good luck with that regular person who just threatened their son. Have fun with death. Oh, on the threatening the son thing, that will be explained next chapter because the sheriff isn't that dumb.
But back to the social thing, you can only have a normal functioning society so long as said super-powered monster slayers are willing to cooperate. Given that it is very much in their interest to cooperate, things are mostly gravy. But that doesn't change the fact that a fully trained hunter going nuts must be every fucking police force's worst nightmare.
Fuck Grimm, these bastards kill Grimm as an occupation, but now this one just suffered a psychotic break from PTSD or just straight up decided to do crime… If you don't have Aura, how do you stop them… good luck with that.
The amount of funding governments must give to Huntsman support groups must be fucking mind-boggling.
So yeah, I am sorry, but there will be times when I discuss the world of Remnant. I like talking about how the media could be used to control the perceived notion of security or how larger settlements would treat Grimm far differently than Cities.
Another thing I will continue to talk about is weapons.
Ruby's scythe generates enough force to give her lift and control her movement mid-air.
If that is allowed, then I am going to have some fun.
That turned into a bit of a rant. Sorry about that, but anyway, I am gonna leave it there.
Remember, if you find yourself really, really, really liking my writing and want to show some financial support, I'm AceReaper on Pat re on, the same icon as my FF account.
You can also hit up the next chapter which is already posted for patrons.
New Year's Greetings.
And as always.
Until next time.