Jaune Arc stood at the edge of a ruined street, the aftermath of Menagerie's civil war laid bare before him. The sky was overcast, casting a somber pall over the destroyed buildings and scattered debris that people of Menagerie were picking.
Menagerie had been a land of hope and freedom for the Faunus, but now it lay in tatters, the echoes of conflict still resonating in the air. He sighed, taking in the sight of Kuo Kuana.
As he walked through the streets, he felt a disconcerting presence in his mind, a cacophony of voices that he had grown accustomed to over the past few months. They were his constant companions, his guiding voices, each with a distinct personality and perspective.
"Look at this mess, Jaune. How could they let it get this bad? Negligence, pure and simple," the rusty voice grumbled.
"It's not really negligence," the well-informed voice countered. "Note the strategic points of damage. This was no random chaos during their war."
"Indeed, my friend. There are layers to this conflict, intrigues that we haven't yet unraveled. The key players have their own agendas," the scheming voice chimed in.
"We must focus on aiding those in need, Jaune. The people of Menagerie are suffering. Our duty is to help them rebuild," urged the knight's voice.
Jaune's thoughts swirled with the insights from the voices, each adding a layer to his understanding of the situation. He made his way to the manor, where the stark contrast between the living conditions of the leaders and the common folk became painfully clear. The Belladonnas' home stood in sharp relief against the backdrop of destruction, a bastion of luxury amid desolation. It was well-guarded, and well-protected, with their fighters and people's stomach full and ready.
Inside, the aroma of well-prepared food wafted through the halls, a stark reminder of the disparity. The inhabitants of the manor ate well while the people outside searched tirelessly for some. Jaune's brow furrowed with frustration and confusion. What the hell were they doing here? How could they indulge in such opulence while their city lay in ruins?
"Shocking, isn't it? Eating like this while their people starve," the rusty voice spat.
"It's not really shameless indulgence," the well-informed voice noted. "This is a strategic display of power and stability. They need to appear strong and unfazed."
"They're playing a game, Jaune. They want control, not just over Menagerie, but over the narrative. Showing that they're still in charge," the scheming voice added. "Whoever shows weakness loses the game. So they need to be well-fed and ready for a fight."
"Regardless of their motives, we must focus on helping the refugees. Many are wary of aid, especially from Atlas soldiers," the knight's voice reminded him.
Jaune nodded to himself, the voices guiding his resolve. He had already arranged for supplies and aid to be delivered, but the Faunus was understandably cautious. The history of oppression and conflict with Atlas made them suspicious of any human soldiers, uniformed or not. To mitigate this, he had assigned Faunus members in civilian clothing to oversee the distribution of aid. But even then, there were dissidents who were actively distrusting them.
As he walked through the ruined streets, he could hear talks about a ship headed to the refugee camp in Mistral. The people were desperate, looking for any means to escape the hardships they faced here at least until it gets back to its feet. Jaune's heart ached for them, but he also understood the political complexities that Ghira Belladonna and Sienna Khan were navigating.
"Ghira Belladonna and Sienna Khan don't want to be under the thumb of Mistral or Atlas. Independence is their goal, but it comes at a cost," the well-informed voice mused.
"There's more to it than just independence. They're playing a long game, one that involves power, influence, and survival," the scheming voice observed.
"Our duty remains. We must do what we can to alleviate the suffering. Politics can wait," the knight's voice insisted.
"I hope it could, but it can't," a voice refuted. "Don't be an idiot. While they delay us, the people are suffering. But in their mind, we are vulture using this chance to exploit them while they are weak."
Jaune arrived at the remnants of a once-thriving market, now a ghostly shell of its former self. He inspected the wreckage, his eyes drawn to the scattered pieces of advanced technology that they were recovering. It looked suspiciously like Atlas tech, but something was off. The design was different, a crude mimicry rather than genuine innovation.
"Interesting. This tech is a poor imitation of Atlas designs. Someone has been reverse-engineering it," the well-informed voice noted.
"We recognize this. Iona showed us some of her work years ago, no? Starhead Industrial Company… They must be behind this. Their handiwork is unmistakable," the scheming voice deduced. "They were allied with the White Fang, right? Sold them weapons, but that doesn't explain Dr. Merlot's brand of Grimm."
Jaune's mind flashed back to a name from the past — Fort Lee. He was a proud and theatrical individual, notorious for his dramatic flair. He had introduced himself with a song and dance number, his drones accompanying him as he tried to make an impression. Jaune had assumed Fort Lee was dead, buried in a collapsing mine after a failed assassination attempt on Blake.
"But what if he isn't dead? What if he's still out there, pulling the strings?" the rusty voice speculated.
"It's possible. Fort Lee was resourceful and cunning. If anyone could survive, it would be him," the well-informed voice agreed.
"This could explain the tech. Fort Lee's influence runs deep, and his ambitions were never small," the scheming voice added.
"We must investigate further. If Fort Lee is involved, he could pose a significant threat," the knight's voice urged.
"Can we?". You a rusty voice added. "We're already half-drowning and you want us to drown further? No, leave this to others, delegate. You aren't the only one in the world to handle it. Report it to Winter. She'll find people to check."
As Jaune Arc just outside of Kuo Kuana, his gaze was drawn to the distant figures of Ruby, Blake, Weiss, Qrow and Pyrrha fighting the Grimm. The relentless creatures were drawn to the city's pervasive negativity, and they were doing their best to keep the Grimm at bay. There were other aura-unlocked individuals, but most of them couldn't keep up with a Seasoned Huntsman and Huntresses.
"Leave them to their work," a voice said. "We do ours."
Inside the Belladonna manor, Jaune found himself once again engaged in a seemingly endless round of discussions with Ghira Belladonna and Sienna Khan. The two leaders were entrenched in their positions, unwilling to compromise, each with their own vision for Menagerie's future.
"Why do we keep having the same conversations? It's like they're trying to wear us down with sheer repetition," the rusty voice grumbled.
"They think they can outlast us. That if they keep pushing, we'll eventually break," the well-informed voice observed.
"They're stubborn, yes, but so are we. There's more at stake here than just pride," the knight's voice reminded him.
"We need to find a way to navigate their arguments. They're like animals, clinging to their instincts, but we must be smarter," the scheming voice added, dripping with contempt.
Jaune steepled his fingers, gazing at the table in front of him. The voices in his head were a constant barrage of commentary and advice, each one pulling him in a different direction. He felt the weight of their judgments, their ceaseless critiques of his every move.
"I understand your concerns, but we need to consider the bigger picture. Menagerie cannot survive in this isolation," Jaune said, repeating the same script he had used countless times in this meeting. Was it always the fate of his meetings with leaders? Repeating the same argument until it sticks?
Ghira's expression was one of worried yet stoic determination, while Sienna's eyes flashed with barely restrained anger. They were both formidable leaders, but their stubbornness was proving to be a significant obstacle.
"Our people have fought for their independence. We won't trade one set of chains for another," Ghira replied, his voice firm.
"We've bled for this land. We won't bow to anyone," Sienna added, her tone equally resolute.
"It's like talking to a brick wall," the rusty voice complained. "They're too blinded by their causes to see reason."
"They're not just stubborn, they're scared. Fear makes people do irrational things," the well-informed voice noted.
"We need a new approach. Something that will break through their defenses," the scheming voice suggested.
"We must find common ground. Focus on what unites us, not what divides us," the knight's voice urged. "People are suffering. Can't they see it?"
"Oh, they know, but they also are smart about it," a voice said. "They know better than to trust Mistral and Atlas. Don't be fools. Mistral and Atlas have their agendas, and if they are not careful. Menagerie will become another Vacuo. In this one, you can't blame them."
Jaune felt a pang of frustration. The voices were right. He needed a different tactic. But what? Every attempt to bridge the gap seemed to end in the same deadlock.
"Perhaps we're missing something. A leverage point we haven't considered," the well-informed voice mused.
"They see us as outsiders, intruders. We need to show them that we're on their side," the knight's voice insisted.
"Or we could exploit their weaknesses. They're clearly not united," the scheming voice proposed. "Give them a good reason and the civil war starts again. It's because of Blake stabbed Adam that they'd even agreed to speak."
"Careful, Jaune. You're treading dangerously," the well-informed voice warned. "Don't let your frustration tripped you."
Jaune took a deep breath, centering himself. The voices were a double-edged sword, offering insights but also tempting him toward darker thoughts. He had to remain vigilant, to stay true to his principles even in the face of adversity.
"Our people are wary of outsiders. They have good reason to be. But if you can prove your intentions…" Ghira began, his voice trailing off.
"We need food, medicine, and security. If you can provide that without strings attached, it would go a long way," Sienna finished.
"Have we not already offered? You're all like birds that hesitate to drink from a clear pond, fearing invisible predators lurking beneath the surface," Jaune looked at them dully, as if at their dock he didn't have tons of supplies carried, but none were biting. It didn't surprise Jaune they were trying to get some benefits. Honestly, he was suspecting they didn't want to take a bite, so they can get a bigger cake.
"Hold your tongue, Jaune," the Scheming voice said. "Not the time for the sharpness."
"Let's inspect them again," a voice said.
Ghira Belladonna and Sienna Khan were two of the most influential leaders in Menagerie. The weight of their presence was palpable, each representing a different facet of the struggle for Faunus' rights. The voices in Jaune's head whispered their insights as he analyzed the leaders, searching for a way to bridge the gap between their conflicting ideologies.
Ghira Belladonna, with his imposing stature, exuded an air of authority and strength. His great size contributed to his ability to be intimidating, which he utilized from time to time. However, there was a good-heartedness about him, evident in the way he doted on his family and enjoyed a good laugh. His brusque attitude could be both impulsive and controlled. Jaune recalled a moment when Ghira, angry with himself for forgetting a meeting, had pounded his fist on the table, needing to be soothed by his wife Kali. Yet, when given upsetting information, he used words and expression to convey his seriousness.
"He's a seasoned leader, knowing when it is wise or advantageous to speak, but also knowing when it is better to let others take the stage," the well-informed voice observed.
"He can be blunt, yes, but that's not always a bad thing. It shows honesty," the knight's voice noted.
"There's a balance in him. He's impulsive yet controlled, a complex mix," the rusty voice remarked.
"We can use that. He's not finished fighting against discrimination. He's ready to take more responsibility to rebuild the White Fang into what it used to be," the scheming voice suggested.
"Rebuilt what? The shit we had taken a shit on?" the yellow tie tightened around Jaune's neck. "The White Fang name means something to them, but outside of this place, they see it as a terrorist organization of ran by human and faunus alike."
Ghira could be good ally, but his impulsiveness needed to be tempered. Jaune thought could leverage his sense of duty and his desire to restore the White Fang to its former glory… but that's impossible. Not after the White Fang did in Vale, and Mistral.
It didn't help Jaune painted them as unsalvageable and evil. He thought he made a mistake, but Jaune shook his head. Focusing Mistral's anger at White Fang contained some problems that could have arisen.
Turning his attention to Sienna Khan, Jaune noted her fierce determination. According to the info he got, Sienna was one of the White Fang's first advocates for using violence to combat Human prejudice toward the Faunus. She believed it necessary to use force in order to demand the respect of mankind, though only in acts of retaliation for continued crimes against their people rather than unprovoked acts of hate. She was strong of mind and body, perfectly willing to be violent, but not to the extent of hurting her cause on a global scale.
"She's a warrior, through and through. Strong, but with a sense of strategic restraint," the well-informed voice said.
"She believes in making the White Fang appear like a militant force declaring war. It's about strength, but also about control," the knight's voice added.
"She's easily in touch with her anger, but doesn't let it overrule her judgment. She's careful," the rusty voice noted.
"She's not as intensely prejudiced towards Humans as some, but she still regards them with reflexive dislike and defensive skepticism. We need to find a way to address that," the scheming voice advised.
Jaune had probed her stance on the lives taken by the White Fang, but she was unconcerned. She viewed it as a necessary evil, more worried about the damage to their cause than the lives lost. While relatively level-headed for someone in her position, she was also somewhat arrogant and stubborn.
"They're both tough individuals, but there are differences we can use," the well-informed voice pointed out.
"Ghira and Sienna believed in the cause of the White Fang. There's potential there," the knight's voice agreed.
"Use their strengths against each other. Play on Ghira's desire to protect his family and people, and Sienna's focus on strategic gains," the scheming voice suggested.
Jaune steepled his fingers, deep in thought. The voices had provided valuable insights, highlighting the differences between Ghira and Sienna that could be leveraged. Ghira's impulsive yet controlled nature, his blunt honesty, and his desire to restore the White Fang could be used to appeal to his sense of duty. Sienna's strategic mind, her willingness to use violence when necessary, and her restrained anger could be appealed to through pragmatic arguments.
But he was hesitant. He had spent the last hour carefully laying out his arguments, drawing on the insights provided by the voices in his head, but like them, he can't compromise on something too.
Menagerie still needs to come under Mistral's care, gaining the resources and support needed to rebuild, while maintaining a degree of autonomy.
That was his bottom line.
"You know as well as I do that Menagerie cannot stand alone in these times," Jaune said, his voice steady. "Under Mistral's help, you'll have the resources to rebuild, to protect your people, and alleviate the suffering of the Faunus here."
Ghira's expression was serious, but Jaune noted the glimmer of consideration in his eyes. "You make a compelling argument, Arc. But it's not just about resources. It's about sovereignty."
"I understand that, Mr. Belladonna. But sovereignty means little if your people are starving and your defenses are weak. We can negotiate terms that ensure Menagerie retains its autonomy while benefiting from Mistral's support," Jaune countered.
Ghira pounded his fist on the table. "What guarantees do we have that Mistral won't overstep?"
"We can draft agreements, ensure there are checks and balances. Your leadership will remain intact. Mistral will provide aid, but you will govern," Jaune reassured him. "The Menagerie Guard will have the say."
Jaune then turned his attention to Sienna Khan, the fierce and determined advocate of the White Fang.
"Miss Sienna, I know you're wary of humans, and rightfully so. But this isn't about submission, it's about getting help. Menagerie can use Mistral's resources to strengthen its position, to ensure that the Menagerie recovers," Jaune said.
Sienna's eyes narrowed, her skepticism clear. "You speak of help, but what's stopping Mistral from turning on us once we've rebuilt? Take what we have once the fruits have ripened?"
"You'll have leverage. By the time you're strong enough, You'll have the means to defend yourselves against any betrayal. But right now, you need their help to get there," Jaune replied.
Sienna considered his words, her expression thoughtful. Jaune could see the gears turning in her mind, weighing the risks against the potential benefits.
For a moment, it seemed as if he might succeed. Ghira and Sienna exchanged glances, their resolve wavering. But then, the scheming voice in Jaune's mind chuckled, a sinister edge to its tone.
"You know, despite Ghira's leniency, he's still wary of humans. Just like Sienna, but he hides it well. Why do you think he founded the White Fang?" the voice warned. "You're close, but their distrust runs deep. You are not Faunus, Jaune. They see you as a human, a puppet of Mistral and Atlas, ordered by its masters to bring the poor animals to their cages of 'cooperation'. You dangle food in their face and they see it as nothing more than bait. It's fucking pathetic that you even try to reason. It's Human vs. Faunus here, no more, not less. They need some bitterness. Hell, they think that because you are in their home, sitting at their table, they can coerce you into agreeing. They see you as young man, ignorant. And they would have been right without us in your head. But let me remind you that this Ghira didn't do shit while the White Fang ran around killed faunus and human alike, and this Sienna Khan didn't care about what Adam did, either. They will continue to do this again and again. You are trying to build something that will take a lifetime to do. Don't be foolish. This is the land of the animals."
Jaune's heart sank as he realized the truth in those words. He had underestimated the depth of their wariness, their ingrained suspicion of human motives. Ghira's eyes hardened once more, and Sienna's thoughtful expression turned cold… as expected.
It was disappointing.
"I appreciate your efforts, Mr. Arc, but we cannot place Menagerie's future in the hands of outsiders," Ghira said, his tone final.
"We've fought too hard and sacrificed too much to hand over our fate to Mistral, no matter the promises," Sienna added. "We understand you want to help, but we can't allow that while not knowing your true intentions."
The meeting was adjourned, and once again, nothing was resolved. Jaune felt a wave of frustration and disappointment wash over him as he left the manor.
"That fucking terrorist," a voice said. "Talking about sacrifices when her band of terrorist caused more death than anyone here. Why are we not trying to capture her ilk again? Why are even speaking to her!?"
"Because we don't want a war, dumbass," the yellow tie's voice said. "We end conflicts, not end one. And despite the stubbornness, it's better than having one of the Albain Brothers take control."
"They're too entrenched in their ways," the rusty voice lamented.
"You did what you could. Sometimes, even the best arguments can't overcome years of mistrust," the knight's voice consoled him.
"We'll need a new approach. Something that can break through their defenses," the well-informed voice suggested.
"For now, we regroup and rethink our strategy. There's always another angle," the scheming voice advised.
Jaune Arc sat at the edge of the wrecked district, the rebuilding effort of Menagerie spread out before him in the form scaffolding corralling him.
He took a swig from his flask, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it went down. The drink was a poor substitute for the warmth he needed, but it would do for now.
As he wandered through the streets, his eyes scanning the devastation. Eventually, he came across a group of Faunus huddled together, their faces etched with despair. They looked up as he approached, suspicion and curiosity in their eyes.
"Mind if I join you?" Jaune asked, holding up his flask.
The Faunus exchanged glances but nodded. Jaune sat down, the cold drink in his hand offering little comfort. He looked at the ragtag group, their clothes worn, their eyes a little hollow. It was clear they were hungry, but there was something else that Jaune can't put a finger on.
"Hell of a mess we're in," Jaune said, breaking the silence. "Been talking with your leaders. Seems they're more interested in pride than people."
"Leaders are always the same," one of the Faunus muttered. "They forget about us."
"Hey, you are Jaune Arc?" another Faunus whispered. "Drinking on the job, huh?"
Jaune let out a bitter laugh. "You have no idea. Been trying to get Mr. Ghira and Ms. Sienna to see reason, but it's like talking to a brick wall. They're too damn proud to accept help."
"Why even bother?" a third Faunus asked. "They'll just keep doing what they want. They did not care to ask us if we want to fight our brothers and sisters. Why would they care now?"
Jaune took a long swig from his flask. "Because someone has to try, Sir. I'm just frustrated that I can't do more. We've got supplies, but your leaders won't let us distribute them properly."
One of the Faunus, a tired-looking woman, spoke up. "We've heard about what you're doing. Even out here, we hear things. People say you're trying to help."
Jaune snorted. "It's nothing. Just trying to do the right thing."
The woman shook her head. "We're tired. We've lost friends, family. And now we're starving while our leaders bicker. It's not fair. We could smell the food they eat and they see us in the street and all they see is whether you are part of the Menagerie Guard or the White Fang."
Jaune didn't know what to say. He looked at the surrounding faces, seeing the exhaustion and hopelessness. "An agreement needs to be made by choice, not force," he said finally. "I can't make your leaders see reason. But if you need food, if you need anything for your bellies, come to us. Please."
The Faunus looked at each other, then back at Jaune. One of them chuckled. "You're like a golden retriever, you know that?"
Jaune smiled weakly. "I'll take that as a compliment, Ma'am."
They shared a drink, the alcohol a temporary reprieve from their troubles. For a moment, the barriers between them fell away, and they were just people, trying to find some solace in the midst of chaos.
"Tell me," Jaune said after a while, "what's it really like out here? What do you need?"
A Faunus man sighed, his shoulders slumping. "We need food, medicine, and security. But more than that, we need hope. Our leaders are too busy with their pride. They forget that we're the ones suffering."
"I see. Then I will come and bring gifts. We shall eat and drink. Tell your friends and families okay? A rude and drunk human is going to visit them," Jaune nodded, feeling the weight of their words while also sending them a signal that it took a second for them to understood. The voices in his head were silent for once, letting him process the reality before him. He raised his flask in a toast. "To better days," he said.
The Faunus echoed the toast, their voices filled with a mix of hope and resignation. They drank and eat together, sharing their stories and their pain. Jaune listened, absorbing their experiences, their fears, and their dreams. He knew he couldn't solve all their problems, but he could be there, a beacon of support in their darkest times. Hearing them he then stopped caring about the ones in the top at the moment. Even if it doesn't work, then at least the aid will reach them.
As the night wore on, the group began to disperse, returning to their makeshift homes. Jaune stood up, feeling the weight of his responsibilities even more keenly. He looked at the empty streets, the remnants of a once-thriving community.
"We'll find a way," he muttered to himself. "We have to."
The rusty voice broke the silence. "You did good, Jaune. You made a connection."
"But it's not enough. There's still so much to do," the well-informed voice replied.
"We'll find another angle. There's always another way," the scheming voice suggested.
"Our duty is clear. We must keep trying," the knight's voice concluded.
That was the goal, but the process was tiresome. If he could not get to their leaders, then Jaune resolved to another method.
"LET THEM HEAR THE PEOPLE SING, LET THEM HEAR THE SONG OF THE HUNGRY AND THE TIRED BROTHER," the drunk voice suddenly shouted in his mind. It was loud, insistent, and filled with a raw, unfiltered emotion.
"CAUSE BABY, IT'S TIME TO MAKE UP THEIR MIND!"
The next day, Jaune Arc didn't appear in front of the leaders of Menagerie and sent only a notice.
Then, an entire week passed, and Jaune Arc didn't sit in the meeting room. Instead, he's seen wandering Menagerie from one commune to another, always with a drink and food in hand. He refused to show his face in the discussions, opting instead to sing and dance with the communes as if he were on vacation.