Alright, Chapter 3!

Getting into the beginnings of one of our story-line's today, whilst the others continue to move towards the end of their prologues. Not much more to say than that. Let's get into it!

Start Chapter 3

They're being followed.

Jaune's been unable to tell as of yet exactly by whom, but he can sense someone on the very edges of his periphery, can hear their footsteps stalking the rooves above and behind them as Jaune tries to both not panic Cinder, and get them to safety all at once.

He's had so little time to process the fact that it's Cinder who he's rescued, who he's saved from being imprisoned, before this had all begun, too. Barely a moment after Cinder had told him her name, he'd heard someone approaching their position in that alleyway.

He'd thought nothing of it, at first. Or, that is to say, he'd assumed it to be either a police officer, or perhaps an errant homeless man or woman. Neither of which would have been any threat to them. Not really.

But as Jaune moves them, gets them out of that alley and into another, when he hears those footsteps following, feels that presence moving in tandem with them…

He's beginning to grow concerned, and it's causing him to drag Cinder along just that littlest bit faster.

He doesn't like this. This isn't the kind of way that a law enforcement agency would trail them. This feels somehow more sinister.

"W-What's going on?" Cinder asks him, already growing suspicious.

"Nothing is."

Cinder seems to know he's lying, but again, she's too scared to call him on it. That doesn't really do anything to make him feel better.

Cinder's sword – or Rhodes', he's not had the time to ask – bounces unnaturally on his hip, in a way that he's not used to. He has half a mind to draw it now, and call out to whomever it is that's following them. Cut this entire thing off now.

He doesn't, though, because he'd rather this not become a confrontation.

It's likely that it's a Huntsman or Huntress pursuing them. That would make the most sense. Rhodes had called in, someone with a semblance that allowed them to track Jaune's and Cinder's presences had caught onto them, and now, they'd be keeping track of their location to broadcast it to others.

Which meant that Jaune and Cinder needed to get away. And they needed to do so quickly.

Unfortunately, that isn't exactly an option. The only real place that Jaune can think to go is Mantle, but short of hijacking an airship – and to be fair, Cinder's already a wanted criminal, and he's abetting her, so it's not like they can be more wanted – he's not really sure how they can get down there.

Jaune curses under his breath, which sets Cinder's nerves off. She's taking harsh, jagged breaths, and Jaune feels like a fool when he remembers that whether or not this is Cinder Fall, who will eventually become one of the strongest Huntresses that Remnant has ever seen, right now, she is a – likely – fourteen-year-old girl.

…He has to make a judgement call. Try and make their stand here, or try and make it to Mantle with an entirely exhausted Cinder slung along his back. She's not had the time to rest, either, since leaving that hotel. She'll be dead weight soon – probably already should be, if not for the last dregs of adrenaline still coursing through her now.

The answer is obvious, even if it's not at all Jaune's preferred route.

He brings them both to a sudden stop, turns towards Cinder, and tells her, "Stay behind me, okay?"

She nods her head, fear apparent in her eyes. They widen a moment later, full as the moon, and Jaune's about to ask what the matter is when–

"Ah, glad to see you've finally stopped running! I must say, I do love the chase, but even I can tire of it eventually."

Jaune's blood runs cold.

He turns towards the sound of the voice to see a figure he hadn't at all been expecting. He's… younger. Much younger. There aren't any scars on his face, and there are only a few of the ones he'd had adorned on his chest when they'd first met him, all that time ago, in Mistral. But evidently, he's still the same, with that manic smile on his face, that tail swishing back and forth behind him.

Tyrian Callows looks at Jaune, and his smile grows wider, more feral.

"Oh, but how interesting…" Tyrian reaches up and points at him, chuckling beneath his breath. "You… you look like… quite many things, in truth. So very many. How… exciting."

Jaune draws Cinder's sword from off of his hip, gives it a few flicks around to try and get a sense of its balance – it's completely different than Crocea Mors, which is a problem, given that's what he's fought with for going on twenty-odd years of his life at this point – before unfurling Crocea's shield form and – leaving its shattered blade sheathed – taking a battle-ready stance.

"Oh?" Tyrian tilts his head to one side, like a dog might when it sees something it doesn't quite understand. "How curious. Not going to ask who I am? What it is I'm here for?"

He knows. The problem, of course, is that he has no reason to know. He's given up information about himself without even meaning to.

"I was already intrigued when you somehow entered into that establishment, and stole away one of our Goddesses' potential enforcers, without my seeing a thing," Jaune's eyes widen, realizing in that moment that Salem had had her eyes on Cinder for far longer than he'd ever assumed. "But you react to me as if you know me. Tell me… do you know of my Goddess as well?"

He does his best to steel his features, to show no reaction at all. He's already given Tyrian Callows, a terribly dangerous man, more information than he'd have really liked to. He's already given him more than enough reason to be intrigued by him.

Any more, and… well…

He'd really rather avoid being an object of interest for Tyrian, of all people.

"Hmm… You've gone to such lengths to not react, to avoid reacting. But that in and of itself is an answer, young boy. It tells me that you do know our Goddess."

Well, shit.

"How delightful, how positively delightful!" Tyrian claps his hands together, dancing in place like an excited schoolgirl upon learning her crush returns her feelings. "Oh, I look forward to finding out just how much it is you know. But, first, I suppose I really ought to fulfill my original mission in coming here."

Tyrian steps forward, his wrist blades extending, his tail beginning to flick forward, like even from five or so meters out, it's already trying to strike at Jaune.

"I will say this only once, and only because my Goddess has instructed me to not make too much of a scene if I can help it. Hand over the girl, and come with me."

It is not phrased as a question.

"No." He denies.

"Hah, he speaks!" Tyrian cackles, excitement filling him. "Here I was beginning to suspect you a mute! Oh, how fun, how fun! So much to talk about, but I am getting ahead of myself. If you will not move…"

Tyrian's stance drops, so that his legs are wide, his posture lax, almost lazy looking.

It is the oddest battle stance that Jaune has ever seen.

"Then I will simply have to make you."

And with that, it seems negotiations – no matter how pointless – have fallen through.

The only way this can end is with a fight.

Jaune's not certain he can win this, in truth. Despite his time in the Ever After, during which he'd invariably seen combat, he's still not had time to practice against more human foes. Jaune has no doubt that, against the older, more experienced Tyrian that he knows from the future – present? Ugh, this is already getting confusing – that he'd be beaten, and likely handily.

But this isn't that Tyrian. The lack of scars on his chest confirms that fact.

So perhaps… perhaps he can win this after all.

No sooner has he thought this, than has Tyrian let out a howl, and charged right for him.

Jaune brings up his borrowed blade, and their fight begins.

/

Blake has about five seconds to get over the shock of finding out she's, ostensibly, about twelve or so years in the past before an unnamed Faunus, gruff, with a large beard, grabs her by the shoulders with a mad glint in his eyes

"What have you done!?" He shouts at her, and Blake only manages to hold off on dislodging him forcefully because she can feel the lack of real strength in his grip. She could remove him with ease if she wished to. Likely the malnutrition and overwork affecting him. "Those guards, they… once they wake up, they're going to come for us! All of us! And you… you!"

Blake nods her head, not denying that. "Yes, they will. Which is why we won't be here when they do wake up."

She sees several of the hundred or so Faunus gathered around her look rather shocked at that, and though Blake wishes she'd known how best to go about properly breaking this to them…

Well, that had never been her job. She's going to do the best she can under the circumstances.

"Unless you wish to stay here, and deal with the fallout of these soldiers' ire," Blake raises her voice, to be heard by all. "Then you are going to be coming with me."

"With you!?" One of them shouts out from the crowd, Blake can't get a good look at them. "To where, exactly!? And who the hell even are you!?"

All fair questions. Only one of them can Blake answer. "Depending on our location on Solitas, we'll either be headed East, towards Oaresberg," a small port town that's seedy enough to grant even obvious prisoners' passage aboard a ship, if one has the lien. The White Fang had used it to ferry away SDC refugees during her time with the group, "Or West, towards Coldport," a similar location to Oaresberg, and yet another location that had been used by the White Fang. "Once we're there, we'll take a ship North, and dock at Kuo Kuana. You'll be safe there."

There are cries of uproar at that, and admittedly, Blake can't really blame them. She's sure the lot of these people likely do live in Atlas, or at least had, before they'd decided to take on a job with the SDC, and be relocated out here. But the simply truth of the matter is that after this? After what Blake's done?

They're criminals, every single one of them, through no fault of their own.

It's not fair, but then, life isn't fair for the Faunus. The SDC will just claim them all to have been White Fang informants, or undercover operatives. During her time with the White Fang, Adam had gone on and on about how idiotic a thing that was for the SDC to do. He'd said such things only worked to push the desperate Faunus, already bereft of options, towards the White Fang; that such a move could only radicalize them.

Blake is inclined to agree. But then, perhaps the PR they would generate by making every 'attack' that the SDC's mining camps suffered be the fault of the White Fang had been worth the radicalization of a hundred or so Faunus each time.

After all, the White Fang in Atlas had earned a terrifying reputation, even early on in their operations, when all they'd done had been to occasionally lift Faunus from out of genuinely dangerous working conditions in places like this one. The simple truth behind that had been that no one in the White Fang could tell their side of the story, and the SDC had been, and very likely always would be, the richest business in the world.

They'd never had any trouble getting their perspective told.

Blake sighs, even as the last bits of shouted disagreement die down among the Faunus surrounding her. She could explain her reasoning to all of them, but honestly, she's not really sure it would matter.

…But Blake supposes that it can't hurt.

So, she does. She tells them exactly what it is she's just thought. She tells them of the unfair conditions that have been forced upon them simply by being born Faunus. She tells them of her past experiences with situations just like these – making sure to be as vague as possible, and not using the name White Fang, just in case there are any cameras recording this. She's fairly certain that the White Fang hadn't yet become militaristic at this point, which means she doesn't want to give the Atlesian media anymore ammo than they already have.

When she finishes…

Well, it's pretty much what she'd expected.

"And why should we believe you!?"

"Yeah, Atlas News says that–"

"This is the fault of people like you, who–"

"If we just kept our heads down, none of this would–"

It boils Blake's blood, really. Issues with the Faunus always have. It had always been far too difficult for Blake to ignore anything regarding them, or the White Fang, even back during her time within Beacon.

So instead of just lying down, and taking their abuse, she challenges it.

"So what crime, exactly, did this boy commit!?" She bellows, and the crowds of Faunus go silent as she gestures towards young Adam, hiding behind his mother, Eve. "Well!? What was his crime that demanded the SDC's goons bring him out here and brand his face!?"

"He…" His mother, Eve, has tears in her eyes as she answers. "He was trying to protect me. One of the guards, he… he grabbed me, and… he… he was going to…" Eve swallows, those same tears spilling down her cheeks. "Adam pushed the guard away from me, trying to protect me…"

Blake almost wants to snarl. It's so common a story to hear. Especially in the more remote camps like this one. Physical abuse, sexual abuse… if there is no law, no true law, then the strongest reign, and their word becomes law.

No matter what that word might be.

"A young boy defending his mother from being assaulted!" Blake screams, and the fire in her voice only grows. "Is that a crime, where you come from!? Within the city of Atlas, would such be regarded as a villainous act, deserving of such a medieval punishment!?"

None of them answer, because they know the truth.

She can almost feel this radicalizing her again, just as it had so many years ago, when she'd been just a child. Twelve or thirteen years old, and already fighting on the front lines.

This place is a hive of scum.

Blake has half a mind to set it alight, and watch it burn.

…

She shakes her head. Such are thoughts for later.

"So, tell me, my fellow Faunus," Blake shouts. "What was young Adam supposed to do? Sit and do nothing!? Continue to accept such treatment for years and years!?" She shouts, and she watches several of them flinch back, knowing she's right. "Because the truth is, regardless of how 'good' we are, regardless of how much we 'behave', unless we do something about it, unless we stand up, and act, there will always be people like these."

Silence meets her as she finishes her little speech. It had become somewhat broader at the end, but… she feels it's hammered in her point, at least.

"Ma'am," She turns towards Adam's mother. "What's the approximate location of this colony?"

Eve's eyes widen. "Oh, uhm… we're on the eastern edge of Solitas, about as far out from Atlas as you can be, if that's what you mean?"

Blake nods. She turns back to the crowd. "We'll be heading towards Oaresberg. I would advise you return to your quarters, and grab anything you cannot bear to leave behind. That includes anything that might identify you, or be able to be traced back to you. You don't want to give these people more ammunition to track down you, or your families. If you can't bring it, burn it. Anything otherwise nonessential should stay. After that, meet back up here in the courtyard. Dress warmly, the journey will likely still take a day or two."

With that, Blake heads towards the downed guards, a plan already formulating in her head to slow them down from reporting in to their superiors. The SDC mining colonies have all been built with a brig to house prisoners, and right now, she's planning on using that to her advantage.

She drags each unconscious soldier down a few flights of stairs – and if their heads bonk against every individual step on the way down, oops, how clumsy of her – and throws them each in a different cell. It's appalling to her just how many cells there are. It's normal for places far out from society to have jail cells, but usually, there are only one, perhaps two. Preparing for an outlying, emergency scenario. Something unexpected.

This colony has twenty jail cells. Enough for one-fifth the entire work force. The entire basement floor she's in is just for locking up prisoners.

She wants to sigh at the disgusting racism on display; that, or be aghast at how they'd expected to have people resisting their tyrannical treatment, outright planned for it, but instead, she just shakes her head, throws the first guard into one of the cells – alongside a few rations so he doesn't starve – and then locks it on him.

She repeats this until every single guard within the base is in a cell. She's actually quite pleased that the SDC Chief wakes up while she's dragging him down the stairs, and so she's ' forced' to rough him up to get him into a cell.

How tragic. Ah, well, needs must.

"You'll never get away with this!" The man screeches out with a high, nasally voice as Blake shuts the cell door behind him. "The SDC will hear of this! You and the rest of those mongrels will be wrapped in chains if it's the last thing I do!"

"Mhm." Blake hums uncaringly, spinning his key ring – the guards only hope of an easy escape – around her finger, even as she turns around, and leaves the screaming man to his cell.

Finally, some forty-five minutes later, Blake makes her way out of the basement levels, and back out to the courtyard. When she arrives, she looks around, and sees many uncertain faces staring back at her.

"Right." She takes a breath. "I'll lead the way. Is anyone else here trained with a weapon?"

Three people raise their hands, all of them broad, older men. Blake imagines they're probably veterans of the Faunus War some few years ago. She nods, tells them to come down, and has them take up Dust Rifles and Pistols from the pile of weapons the SDC soldiers had dropped.

"I'll be leading the group, but you three will each cover a cardinal direction. Do not fire your weapons unless entirely necessary. If it's a Grimm immediately threatening you, fire conservatively with the SMG or Rifle. Both are more than powerful enough to cut through most of their bone plate. If the Grimm is farther out, or you need general assistance, yell first, that sound will carry far less distance than a gunshot, and I'll still hear you."

They all nod, likely not having needed Blake to explain the logistics to them. Still, it makes her feel somewhat better, and from the looks of things, the fact that Blake seems to know what she's talking about has the same effect on them, steadying their nerves.

Blake clears her throat, steps into the center of the courtyard, and prepares to address them all.

Before she can, however, she feels a hand grab her wrist. It's a dangerous thing, catching a Huntress off guard, but Blake bites down on the instinct to turn and treat such as a threat.

It's not a harsh grip, not at all.

When she looks back, she sees it's Adam's mother.

"Uhm… I'm sorry, it's just…" She swallows visibly. "What should we call you? If we need to get your attention?"

It's really a fair question, in all truth, but it does raise some complications for Blake.

Giving her actual name really isn't an option. Sure, at Beacon, most of the children there hadn't known her last name, but then, that's mostly due to the cultural differences of being raised within one of the four major Kingdoms, or being raised on Menagerie.

Even when Adam had been a child, the Belladonna's had already been the heads of the island for a few years. Using Belladonna as a surname would earn, at the very least, a few turns of the head.

And Blake can't really afford that. At least not until she's learned a bit more about her situation. About if she's here alone, when exactly she is in history, what's happened, and what she can do to possibly reverse it.

Still, she does need a name…

One comes to her, albeit a somewhat ridiculous one.

…Ah, well. It'll be an inside joke.

"I'm not going to give you my name," she says, and she watches as Eve deflates. "But if you want to call me something…" Blake smiles, the humor in the situation not at all lost on her. The way that her outfit is, at this point, almost more white than black.

"You may refer to me as Weiss."

/

Alright, so, Yang had underestimated her mother a bit.

This thought occurs to her after their third real exchange, as Raven's blade knocks her backwards, and sends her skidding away. She steadies herself, and the two face off once more, staring one another down.

Yang's not losing, just to be clear, because that would be really embarrassing, but she's also not winning nearly as hard as she thought she'd be.

She'd sort of figured that she'd be able to handle her mother at… what, twenty-five? Twenty-six or -seven? It's kind of hard to gauge her exact age, but surely, without the Maiden's power, she'd be able to take her?

Apparently, the answer is a bit more complicated than she'd thought initially.

To be fair to her, it's also clear that Raven had underestimated her. She's regarding Yang with an entirely different look, now. One like she's both perturbed, but interested in a way that she wishes she wasn't. Yang isn't entirely certain what to do with that, but given that punching Raven in the face several times is beginning to look harder and harder, she feels like maybe they should just talk this out?

"So," Yang clears her throat. "Had enough yet?"

"Surely you're joking."

"I figured you'd have picked up on that by now."

Raven scoffs. "Making quips in the middle of a fight to the death. How asinine. Tell me, Huntress, just where exactly is it that you learned such horrendous habits?"

"Oh, y'know, little place called Beacon Academy." That has Raven's eyes widening somewhat. "Although it's not like they taught me to make quips. I'm afraid that was all me."

If it's any consolation, Raven's stance has softened somewhat. "You remind me of someone I know."

"Oh? In a good way?"

"He's an annoying, spineless pile of shit."

"So, definitely in a good way, then?"

"I am going to enjoy killing you, I think."

"Oof. Well, I tried."

Their fight continues on.

Omen arcs up towards her, and Yang blocks the blow with her robotic arm. Raven clicks her tongue, and tries to adjust the angle as she activates the lightning dust in the blade to cut into the inner-workings of the arm, and overload it.

Unfortunately for her, Yang's not just going to let that happen.

She uses the fact that her arm is incredibly smooth to allow Raven's sword to slide right off of it as she changes her stance. Raven's eyes widen somewhat, even as Yang pushes into her guard, and, after giving herself a second to wind up, smashes her left fist directly into Raven's nose.

The hit isn't enough to do more than rip some of her mother's aura from her, but at the very least, it's the first solid win she's taken in this fight so far. Raven flies backwards, landing on her feet somehow despite it all, and seeming to take stock of the situation.

Her nose is broken, even despite the aura, but like the hard-ass bitch she is, she just reaches up, and, with a single motion, sets her nose back into place.

Yang grimaces somewhat, even as the bandits around them hoot and holler.

"Cheap shot." Raven mutters, and Yang can't resist.

"As opposed to sending Grimm at a civilian town smack dab in the middle of nowhere without any real defense? Is that an honorable shot in your eyes?"

Raven's eyes narrow.

"I mean, I'm not wrong, am I?"

Raven's back on her a second later.

They trade blows for the next minute or so. Yang's current advantage, besides being better than Raven at extremely close range, which she's struggling to get into most of the time due to Omen's reach, is that she knows what Raven's semblance and general move set is, whilst Raven has no such knowledge of her, other than what she's gleaned so far during their fight.

It's probably the thing that's letting her slowly edge her mother out in this battle, that knowledge, but such will only last a little while longer before her mother figures her out.

Which means that she needs to find a way to end this, and fast.

She's fairly certain that, with a semblance-infused strike either to the diaphragm or face, she could take Raven out for the count. That would likely be enough to smash through her aura, and at that point, her mother would likely turn tail and run.

She's still a bandit, after all.

The problem, really, is she's not sure how to best take a hit to charge her semblance.

Omen's quick, fast, and doesn't stay in one place for very long. Yang had shattered her mother's first blade, the fire dust blade, fairly quickly, but this lightning one she's using now she's being a lot more conversative with. Raven's not making any broad, killer strokes anymore, instead aiming to slowly, steadily defeat her by method of a thousand tiny cuts.

It is, annoyingly, working. She's confident Raven has no idea what Yang's semblance is, but unknowingly, she's using a perfect method to counter it.

…That's making her mad, a little, but honestly, not enough.

And Raven's winning like this. If she keeps this up…

…Yang has an idea. It's a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. But it is an idea.

…This village is going to owe Yang for the shit she's about to pull!

So, as Raven's blade arcs towards her, as it sails through the air on a collision course towards Yang's head…

She doesn't stop it.

Instead, she turns around on a dime, and allows the blade to barely miss her neck, coming within a hair's breadth.

Pointedly, however…

Her hair is not so lucky.

Oho, yep, Yang notes as she looks down, and sees a good 60% of her hair on the ground below her as she turns back around. That definitely worked. I'm very much mad now.

She feels her semblance activating, feels her remaining hair – which barely reaches down to the base of her neck – catch fire. She watches as her mother's eyes widen, entirely unprepared for such a sudden shift in Yang's ire.

Unfortunately for her, she's not going to get a chance to regret it. Not in this fight, at least.

Raven raises Omen, probably preparing to take on a defensive stance while she studies Yang's semblance, gauges just what she's capable of in this state, but Yang isn't willing to give her a moment.

She leans forward ever so slightly, puts one foot in front of the other…

And then she's within Raven's guard.

The ground behind her explodes just after.

Her mother's eyes widen with the realization that no matter what her instincts are telling her to do, no matter what her muscles are flaring trying to attempt, she's too late.

Yang snarls, primes her robotic arm with a shell from Ember Celica, and rears back.

It shoots forward in the next moment.

And yet, somehow, as the momentary panic on Raven's face builds, as she struggles to find some manner of solution to this, some way to solve her predicament, as Yang's fist is about to connect with her face…

A portal opens right in front of it.

Yang has half a moment to balk before she's sent flying through, and lands…

Five feet behind Raven, in the exact same place she'd been before.

Flat on her face.

Silence fills the grassy field. A chill breeze blows through the clearing, rustling the leaves in the trees off in the distance, and causing the blades of grass currently interlacing through Yang's fingers to shift and move as well.

And then, in the next instant, both Yang and Raven turn towards another once more.

"You…" Raven looks more shocked than Yang has ever seen her. In her defense, she doesn't have quite as large a sample size to go off of as one might expect. "What…"

"Eheh…" Yang wipes some sweat off her brow, her Semblance already fading away.

"Why do I…" Her mother's voice is barely above a whisper, evidently not wanting to reveal more than absolutely necessary to her tribe.

"Why do I have a portal to you!?"

Ah.

Yeah.

Yang supposes that would be a pretty good question, huh?

End Chapter 3

That's Chapter 3!

Jaune's up against Tyrian, Blake's trying to lead a hundred or so Faunus off Atlas to Menagerie, and Raven makes a rather disturbing discovery about Yang.

Next chapter will of course have Weiss and Ruby sections, getting further into their stories. Hope you guys liked this one! Please leave a review if you did, they are my lifeblood!

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