Chapter 49 Beacon Days 30
Team BRNZ Dorm Room, evening
Upon an evening merry, over a mood light and airy, there came a gentle rapping, rapping at the door. Some visitor, or visitors, the occupants thought, and nothing more.
And, indeed, on its opening they saw, a pair of Haven teens rapping at the door.
"You two idiots should stick to your Huntsman careers. The music scene will thank you." Brawnz Ni said, shaking his head at their antics. "Now, would you shut up and get the hell in? You're late, by the way."
"What do you mean? We arrived within the hour," Neptune Vasilias protested.
Simultaneously, half the room pulled out their scrolls to check, seeing that it was fifty-seven minutes past the agreed-upon time. The exact same thought passed through their minds. Was this what's considered 'on time' in Mistral?
Judging by the rest of the Mistralians in the room, the answer was a resounding yes.
"And we did pretty good on the song, I thought. I even managed to rhyme orange," Sun Wukong declared with chest puffed out in pride for his feat. He let his partner enter first, then scampered in on his heels.
Keeping so close turned out to be a bad idea. He slammed into Neptune's back just past the threshold. The other boy was doing his best impression of a statue to stay very, very still. Fear oozed off of him at seeing who was already present in the dorm.
Amidst the gray hairs, black hair, brown hair, green hair, blue hair… there happened to include a head of blond hair.
"Well, well, well. Look who's come to die." Sitting on the floor, Jaune sneered at the two newcomers, hand going into his jacket for a blade. Neither of them he liked, and the prospect of having to spend time in their presence galled him, so this was a chance to make it awfully clear that he still held a grudge for various grievances. Maybe they'll get the hint to take themselves elsewhere. Brawnz put a stop to that by walking over and slapping the back of his head.
"Dude, chill. Remember the rules? We leave our disputes at the door on boys' night."
Jaune leveled a glare on Brawnz to show his displeasure but, ultimately, he relented.
"Ugh. Fine." He opened the adjacent minifridge, pulling out a couple cans of beer and tossing them to the pair from Team SSSN. "Help yourself to the drinks. Ren and I brought plenty." Another attendee signaled for one, too, which he lobbed over. "There you go, Greenie."
"You know, I'm halfway convinced you're using those nicknames to hide the fact you can't remember our actual names," came the reply. Jaune averted his eyes, admitting nothing.
Of the people here, he can name Ren (if he couldn't even do that, then there's a big problem), Wukong and Vasilias (enemies!), Monochrome who's also of Haven (his choice of color-wears made it a simple matter to remember), Brawnz (always know your host), Brawnz's teammate (sometimes you don't know your host), Greenie (the other possibility was Shorty), Music Man from Atlas (He of the Jazz), and Music Man's blue-haired teammate (the guy hasn't said a single word so far). Five out of nine; that's higher than a coin flip's chance, which marked a definite improvement for him.
"Putting Jaune's goldfish memory aside ("Oi!"), this looks to be the last of the people coming tonight," Branwz said. "Now, before we kick things off, I just want you to remember that this is about forging good international relations. Try to get along. We're all Huntsmen of Remnant, warriors fighting so that there can be a tomorrow. Shade, Beacon, Haven, Atlas, it doesn't matter. There's only one side in the end." He clapped his hands together, bringing an end to the speech. "So, let's have a grand time."
Every hand lifted a drink, and toasted the sentiment.
-o-
Maybe…
"Don't you dare, Wukong! Don't you dare!"
"Heheheheheheh! Blame yourself for taking the lead, Arc. This shell of mine burns with an awesome power! On wings of victory it will send you to hell! Take this!"
Just maybe…
"I can dodge. I can dodge. Dodge-dodge-dodge-dodge-dodge— DAMMIT!"
"Whoo! First place here I— NOOOO!"
"Nihihi. You guys make it too easy~"
A video game tournament might have been a bad way to 'forge good international relations'. Such lofty goals cannot help but shrivel to dust in the face of a blue shell, it being a symbol of spite and malice most foul, the act of a petty creature unable to abide anyone else pulling ahead.
As can be surmised, Jaune deeply resented losing his position. Maneuvering his kart back on the tracks, he set out to reclaim his rightful place. The vehicle smashed through an item box, little icons spinning and coming to rest on three mushrooms. Perfect.
Timing it fine, he used them to take a corner then launched himself over a shortcut, neatly reducing the lead Wukong had gained. Passing a line of boxes, another item was attained, a turtle shell in red. Logic dictated he save it in order to defeat the player in first place, Wukong being a mere stepping stone to victory. Vengeance demanded Jaune employ it forthwith to strike down his enemy. He heeded the call.
"Crap!" Wukong shouted as his kart careened off into a ravine. His screen blacked out for a short while, losing precious seconds.
Fortune clearly approved of Jaune's actions, for on the next occasion it rewarded him with yet again a red shell. This humble tool cannot match the might of its blue brethren, but it ranked up there as one of the best weapons a racer can get his hands on; the auto-aim was a powerful thing. Jaune used it to devastating effect, exploiting a sharp turn where his target was locked in a drift with no room for error. The shell connected to send their car flipping end over end, and he passed them by, the leader once more.
Then, a vile, low scheme unfolded before his very eyes. The second-placer brought the other item they had on hand to bear. It had laid nestled in the smaller box on their screen—out of sight, out of mind—but can now be seen in all its awful, full-sized glory.
"No," he murmured in dread. "You didn't. You can't!"
They could. They did.
A blue shell.
The explosion blasted his kart sky-high right in front of the finish line. The bomber zoomed past a moment later, thus forever depriving him of first-place.
Left with the hope of a silver medal, he gripped the controller tight, fully focused on his kart. It hit the ground…and another car, Wukong's, slammed their way through, forcing his to skitter off to the side. And so went second-place.
Beaten and humiliated, he hobbled over the line to end the race.
"Booyah! In your faces!" The winner gloated in their stolen victory. At once, everyone else jeered.
"Holding on to a blue shell like that is dirty, Greenie!" Jaune hissed with no small amount of venom.
"Yeah, Greenie!" Wukong added his voice to the mix. Jaune did not enjoy agreeing with the other blond on anything, but on this matter they were of a like mind. "The thing should have been thrown the moment you got it; that's just basic fairplay!"
"Sun Wukong you know my name, don't encourage him!"
The last racer, Monochrome—who was taken out of contention early on—crossed his arm and scoffed.
"I don't recognize your win. And Jaune's a prick for zapping us all with lightning."
Jaune whirled towards the boy, a snarl on his lips, at the same time that Wukong also began voicing his complaints against the other three competitors. The mood heated up to a dangerous degree.
Brawnz intervened, walking in front of the big screen.
"Alright, cool your jets. Sheesh. You guys turned on each other way too quickly."
"That's on you for choosing this game," commented Music Man. Their host ignored the jibe.
"Lucky for us, I think I have the solution for this excess animosity. We need to remember the true source of our misery. To realign ourselves on one united front against this harsh, uncaring world that wishes to see us suffer."
The room waited, unsure of what to make of the declaration. Brawnz locked eyes with each of them in turn, and spoke his plan.
"We're putting on Rainbow Road next."
…You monster.
-o-
"Okay, okay, my question is this." The group had made themselves comfortable, lounging on the furniture or the floor. From his new spot sitting against a wall, Jaune pointed around the room with the hand holding his drink glass. "Hypothetically speaking, if you could transfer to any other Academy, which would it be?"
Straightaway, no hesitation, Music Man answered, "Shade. I hear people go nudist in Vacuo whenever they feel like it!"
Jaune blinked, taken aback. Around the room, ears perked up and heads leaned forward. He intended the question as an exploration into the different training and support offered by each school that he might not have known of, but the new tangent sure has commanded total attention.
"We-ell, this is something that clearly needs elaboration," Monochrome drawled. "What do our sources from Vacuo say to that?"
They all turned to look at Brawnz and his teammate (Boy Mustang?). Under the intense scrutiny, they merely sipped their beers without speaking a word. A long silence passed.
Then, they smirked and shrugged their shoulders.
"Uuugh!" Music Man threw his hands up in frustration. His teammate mimicked the gesture.
Neptune whined, "Come on! Why do none of you Shade bastards ever confirm or deny this!?"
"Go and see for yourself," was the carefree reply of Joy Horse(?).
Having done exactly that, Jaune interjected, "I've been, and there was nothing like that at the resort I stayed in. People kept their clothes on."
He thought he was giving them the answer they seek, and he did. But he did not give them the answer they wanted, and so the room turned on him.
"Please. I bet they took one glance at your baby-face and barred you from those areas. Get some hair on that chin, man!"
"Maybe you just didn't pay enough attention? We saw those pictures you sent out. We know where you were looking. Simp!"
"A resort can't really be considered Vacuo, can it? It caters to tourists, so it makes sense for them to match international norms, right? Any piece of Vacuan culture they show probably got sanitized to hell and back." This explanation received many approving nods.
"Yeah, you'd have to go to the capital city. That's where the real Vacuo is."
"It's in an oasis; I saw a picture once. Think about it. Burning hot day, water's right there, but it's not like you're going to wear a swimsuit around a city, so what do you do? Say screw it and strip, that's what."
They continued on, coming up with whatever dubious reasons they could for why they believed Vacuo endorsed nakedness. It sounded like a whole lot of cope to Jaune, but he let them have their fantasy. All he knew was that May, one of the 'real Vacuans' they were talking about, preferred to live the opposite of a nudist lifestyle. In the months since he's met her, he hadn't once seen her without the ever-present beanie atop her head.
…Now there's a thought. How would she look sans beanie? The more he mulled upon the subject, the curiouser he became. A plan to find out began shaping up. He pinned a note on it to revisit at a later, more sober, time and tuned back into the ongoing discussion, where Neptune was presenting his conclusion.
"The idea's great, but we can't transfer to Shade before we confirm the details."
There were some grumblings, but the general consensus agreed with this cautious approach. Jaune simply wondered at which point did the hypothetical scenario develop into a plan of action for these guys.
Neptune continued. "You know where else would be a good place to transfer, though? Here. Beacon. Hands down, it's got the hottest girls of all the Academies!" Heading off the objections, he gestured for the others to simmer down and started to list out examples on his fingers. "This place has got Pyrrha Nikos, it's got Coco Adel, it's got Weiss Schnee—"
Music Man displayed a disgusted face. "The Schnee? Really?"
"Yes, really! She has that ephemeral beauty you don't get with girls back in Haven, a true Snow Angel. And Xiao-Long? Hoho! She's got those… what are you doing?"
Jaune peered up from his scroll, smiled bright, and returned to tapping on the screen. Shortly, a *whoosh* sound signaled a message being dispatched. He showed the screen for the room to see.
Group Message
Contact group: Haven Huntresses
[Jaune]
Hey! Check this out. Vasilias is saying you girls aren't pretty enough.
[Jaune]
*Voice Recording*
[Jaune]
I couldn't believe it, either!
A series of text bubbles started popping up, and soon became a flurry of responses blurring by the screen. Neptune turned pale as a sheet. But for Brawnz, who was shaking his head in despair, and Wukong, who hid his amusement, the rest of them burst out in hyena-like laughs.
"Uh-oh, uh-oh, you're in trouble now!"
"And you wonder why Arslan punched you. Womanizer!"
One person, however, withheld from the heckling and instead sidled over to Jaune.
"Yooo! How did you get their numbers?" The Atlesian musician asked. "Share me some, man."
"I have everyone's numbers," Jaune stated matter-of-factly.
"Everyone's?"
"Everyone's. In my line of business, it pays to know these things." And the social butterfly that is Yang was all too ready to pass him this kind of information in lieu of settling her bar tab with Lien.
"So if I wanted to, saaaay, get Weiss Schnee's number so I can prank-call her…"
Jaune paused in replying to the texts, and affixed the other boy with an unblinking stare. In a cheerful, friendly tone of voice, he said, "Then I'll sign yours up for a hundred spam mailing lists, because Weiss happened to be a good friend of mine."
"Fair. Fair. Forget I ask."
Music Man scooted away in a hurry. Brawnz took his place. The expression of great disappointment he was showing might have caused Jaune to feel shame, if they didn't both know by now how boys' nights tend to go. The spiel about leaving disputes at the door was always more of an ideal than any hard reality. That it lasted this long already counted as a win.
"You know the rules, Jaune. Exile or penalty." They even had punishments prepared for the eventuality.
Jaune sniffed. "Hmph! I'm fine with taking the penalty."
Each word of that line was spoken with the perfect pitch and intonation, as if it had been rehearsed over and over. And, in a way, such was the case.
It's downright unbelievable for some to hear considering his peaceful and generous nature, but he's quite a source of conflicts around these parts.
-o-
"A selfie? That's easy!"
He expected pain and humiliation for his offense. This? Didn't even register.
"A sexy selfie," Neptune corrected
Sun chimed in. "We'll be the judges."
"Whatever." Jaune shrugged, and walked over to the bathroom while taking off his shirt. The door shut…then opened again. Out he strolled, putting the shirt back on.
"Done." He tossed them his scroll. The group gathered together to check the photo.
"Whoa whoa whoa, you're not serious are you? This is terrible," Sun critiqued, and the rest of them followed suit with their own opinions.
"Lazy effort."
"The shot's blurry."
"Sourpuss face."
"What's with the hunch? Looks like you're ashamed of your body. Lame, so lame."
A vein popped on Jaune's head, but right as he prepared to dropkick the nearest boy, a hand clasped his shoulder. Neptune was there, regarding him with pity. How vexing.
"You clearly need help." He gave a thumbs-up. "Leave it to us. We're pros."
"What? No, I'm done. I did the penalty," Jaune protested.
"What do the judges say?"
""""NAY!""""
"And there you go. Now, quit dawdling. We've got a photo shoot to take."
Sun and Neptune worked together in seamless tandem, akin to a well-oiled machine, clearing a space before setting the scene. A blanket spread on the floor—which May, once she finds out, will undoubtedly kill them for. A stack of pillows—ditto. Then, one Jaune Arc, lounging atop the arrangement.
"The two of you are way too serious about this," Jaune commented. He scrunched his eyes as Neptune sprinkled water from a cup on his face and body to give the impression of sweat.
"Shush. I am an artist at work." Neptune stepped back and held his hands in a rectangle, mimicking a camera. "Off with the pants."
Sun interjected, "Boxers stay on!"
Thank fuck. This was already weird enough.
After a couple of adjustments, they were ready, and Neptune began barking out rapid-fire orders.
"Okay, pose! Give me a sneer! Lay back… a bit more…there! Close one eye, make it look like you're winking at the audience. Perfect!"
Jaune lounged in a languid fashion, showcasing his physique. A long, slow stretch displayed the contours of his body. Abs flexed, clearly-defined. The boxers left little to the imagination, and moisture glistened on his skin, the overhead lights causing the droplets to shine. His eyes, half-lidded, gazed at the camera lens. A debonair smirk greeted the would-be viewers.
Multiple scroll cameras flashed. A fake wolf-whistle rang out, followed by laughter.
This was going to end up as blackmail material, wasn't it?
Still, it was on the lighter side as far as punishment games went. There's embarrassment aplenty, but it lacked bite, missing the sense of heart-stopping mortification that marked the tasks handed out at past events. He chalked it down as the work of amateurs here for the first time and not knowing the rules. Pathetic.
Ah well, it worked in his favor, anyhow. Jaune settled onto the pillows, and relaxed.
"By the way, you're the only person here who's going steady, right? How's it going with your girlfriends?" Sun asked, causing Jaune's eyes to narrow in suspicion. The scent of a trap was in the air.
"Good?" He hedged, then amended, "Actually, it is very good. We meet up every weekend."
"That's great! I'm happy for you." He behaved as if he was, too, full of enthusiastic goodwill. It made Jaune wonder if he had just imagined things.
"Got to the hotter stuff yet?"
Jaune snapped at Neptune. "That's none of your business."
"Sounds like a no, don't it, Neptune?"
"It does, indeed, Sun. I bet they're at the innocent 'moony-eyes and little kisses' stage."
"How interesting."
Losing patience, Jaune growled at the pair. "What's with the questions?"
"No reason. No reason at all..." Tap tap tap. *Whoosh*
Oh, you bastards.
Jaune sprang to his feet and charged Wukong. He, in turn, tossed the borrowed device in the air as a distraction, leaping away to land on top of a dresser as Jaune dove for the scroll.
Opening up the screen, he saw not the camera function, but the messaging app.
Group Message
Contact group: Mil-Mil, Mel-Mel
[Jaune]
*Picture*
[Jaune]
Hey bay bays you want some fuk?
Before he can do anything to salvage the situation—was it possible to blue screen the entire scrollnet? Can he get away with burning down the CCT tower?— the dreaded ellipses denoting people typing showed up. And…
[Mel-Mel]
(° ロ°)
[Mil-Mil]
(° ロ°)
Yeah, that's about what he expected. The awful line was bad enough, but the picture was at the highest resolution, too. Damn.
[Jaune]
An idiot sent that.
[Jaune]
Not me. A different idiot.
[Jaune]
don't kill me.
An agonizing wait for their responses ensued. But, finally…
[Mel-Mel]
(❤ω❤)
[Mil-Mil]
(❤ω❤)
Jaune blinked. What the hey?
[Mil-Mil]
Bold~
[Mel-Mel]
Moving so fast~
[Jaune]
It was a penalty game. This wasn't my idea.
[Mel-Mel]
Yeah, yeah. Enough of the excuses.
[Mil-Mil]
We just want one thing.
[Mel-Mel]
Send more! *drool*
[Mil-Mil]
Send more! *drool*
[Jaune]
…
[Jaune]
Later.
He was not going to eat a bladed heel, so that's a reason to celebrate, but he'd now have an audience expecting him to…escalate. Him, the fool without a clue. He thought about the near future for a bit, and promptly gave up. That will be a job best put off for tomorrow-Jaune.
Immediate crisis averted(?), he redirected his attention to the two culprits.
"You. I can't believe you would stoop so low."
Vasilias stared askance. "This…how do you have room to talk? This was us copying exactly—" Jaune cut him off.
"To commit an act of sabotage? You should be ashamed of yourselves."
"Literally! The same!" Wukong tossed his hands up in exasperation.
"Such pettiness. Why, I—" Two ding!'s came from his scroll, and Jaune looked down.
His face reddened to a tomato hue. It did not go unnoticed.
"Yo, what was that?" One of the forgotten-name brigade asked.
"Don't worry about it." Jaune's eyes were riveted on scroll.
"What did they send you just now?"
"Nothing that'd interest you." He typed a reply to the twins. A most undignified giggle escaped his lips. It gave the room a hint, and they started to screech and howl in agitation, not unlike a troop of monkeys.
"Bullshit!"
"Share with your brothers, you stingy bastard!"
"Let us see!"
Cradling the scroll as if it were his treasure, Jaune scrambled away from the grasping hands, kicking at them.
"Back off. This is for me only, and I'll fight you all if I have to."
""""BRING IT!""""
These were long odds he's facing. But in life, some things (lewd selfies) were worth fighting for.
-o-
As with many drunken ideas, it was a great one.
"I feel like hunting a Grimm," declared Jaune. His boon companions, their vow of brotherhood renewed after beating the everloving crap out of each other, nodded their heads as a matter of course.
"My thoughts exactly."
"Was about to suggest it myself, if you hadn't."
"What are we waiting for? Let's bounce, idiots."
Staggering to their feet, the Huntsmen debated their next steps. Jaune almost sent for his rocket locker before deciding it might be too loud to do so here. He wouldn't want to bother the neighbors, after all. His rationale wowed the others with its thoughtfulness, and also set their destination. They needed weapons to kill Grimm.
"Hey, Mercury," Brawnz called out. "Grab the booze."
Who's Mercury?
Whatever. The important thing to note was that he's holding the drinks.
"Let me get one, would ya?" Jaune asked.
No answer came, and he repeated his request. The Huntsman formerly known as Monochrome mimed a throw but didn't follow through in truth, and laughed in his face when he fell for the feint.
Jaune perked up when a can flew through the air from a different direction, landing in his hand with a smack.
"Sweet. Thanks, Reese."
A gasp. "You do remember my name!"
He snickered. "Awww, you caught me. Yeah, I knew all along, but your reactions were too fun to see."
"Come oooon, man." She whined good-naturedly.
…she?
A roaring din erupted as the boys discovered that there was an imposter among them. Reese Chloris gave a jaunty wave.
"Nihihi. Took you guys long enough. And Jaune? Thanks for the eye-candy!" She showed off her scroll. "You don't mind if these go on the girls' chat group, do you?"
Brawnz whirled on the group, bewildered. "How did none of us realize she was here!?"
"I dunno." Sun replied. Next to him with an armful of cans, Mercury shrugged.
"Felt like she was one of the boys," was Music Man's excuse.
Their host turned to Jaune, who pointed out, "Ren's girlier than her and we let him in."
"Fuck you, Jaune."
Jaune barked out a laugh. "Holy crap, Ren cursed! Hahaha! He only does that when he's wasted!"
"How much did he drink?" Reese asked.
"Can't be a lot. He's a bit of a lightweight." Jaune flicked his eyes to the floor in front of his teammate. "Yup, like I thought. Just three—" Having glimpsed odd shapes behind Ren, he leaned to the side and beheld a veritable sea of empty cans and bottles. " — dozen. Ren, what the hey?"
Sun held up a hand before the swaying boy, three fingers splayed. "Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Fuck you, Jaune." Ren snapped out a sharp, textbook punch… at Sun's nose. The Haven boy went down. "And three."
"Oh, wow. He can do math but can't even tell us apart. I'm over here, Ren."
Said boy gave no indication of hearing him, instead proceeding to pat the floor. Once it was confirmed to be of sufficient softness, he curled up in a ball and dropped to sleep.
Standing in a ring around him, the rest of the people in attendance shared looks of confusion.
"What now?" One asked.
"Well, I'm not leaving my teammate behind," Jaune announced, his tone adamant. No way was he going to abandon a comrade. There was only one logical solution. "Put him on a bed and carry him with us to the launch pads."
If anything, his words caused more bafflement.
"The what, now?"
"…Do you not have launch pads at your school to send you flying into Grimm-infested locations?" The response came from all corners of the room.
"No!"
"That's insane!"
"What kind of place are you guys running here?"
Pft. Look at them making an uproar about Beacon when they're the weird ones. What third-rate school are they from, to not have launch pads? Next, they'll say they don't use rocket lockers. Madness.
Shaking his head at the state of today's education, Jaune led the procession out of the room. Together, they set out to experience an unforgettable adventure and endless shenanigans.
Just another typical boy's night, in Beacon Academy.
Author's Notes: Who caught Poe's The Raven reference?
I did say I was going to strip Jaune. Melanie and Miltia deserved a peek.
A wild tomboy appeared.
