Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to WB, I own nothing.
Episode IV: "Small Town Girl;
Will Work for Food"
It is now the Twelfth Cycle of the Azurite Millenium, an age in which fairy tales have faded into obscurity.
Floating amongst the stars, the once-bustling Honey Starbright, famed spaceship of legend, has been reduced to a crew of one plus a guest out to see and eat everything in the universe. Together, the pair take on whatever jobs come their way in order ̶t̶o̶ ̶p̶a̶y̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶h̶o̶b̶b̶i̶e̶s̶ to keep their ship afloat. Many dangers lay before them, from space pirates to space monsters to space bankruptcy. Yet, they are never worried, because long term planning is for other people!
It is a miracle that the ship still flies. It is a miracle that they have not starved to death. Even today, guest and crew, tourist and captain, Cat and Bunny are venturing through the galaxy aboard the good ship Honey Starbright!
Our Cast:
Jaune Arc, the Captain
Unhealthily obsessed with Pumpkin Pete products
Blake Belladonna, the Tourist
What's a pumpkin?
Featuring, whoever is along for the ride on any given day…
SpacerBoy Pit Stop #03689
At a quiet, sleepy port situated on a quiet, sleepy planet, a ship pulled into dock. It drew some idle curiosity from passersby for the odd three-segment configuration that in the past had been described as anything from a sword, to a bee, to an ice cream cone (and perhaps most honestly to an engineer's nightmare), with the occasional face lighting up in recognition. The large glass sphere constituting the middle section lent the ship a decadent air, something more akin to a pleasure yacht than a serious spacefaring craft.
The vessel sat there for about ten minutes, during which time two figures can be seen moving through the glass room into the back of the ship. Shortly after, a slot opened up on the side of the ship, and a ramp began to extend down to the ground. With a hiss, the doors to the ship parted.
Out came a blonde male, pushing a flatbed cart hovering inches in the air; on the cart laid a stack of trussed-up bodies. A dark-haired female brought up the rear, though she peeled off to a nearby foodstand the moment her feet touched the port proper.
Blake—Intrepid Catgirl Adventurer, donning her purple jacket decorated in white flowers off the shoulders—soon returned from her foray with two skewers of grilled fish. She handed one over to her companion—Jaune, Bunny-Mascot Enthusiast, wearing a white jacket embellished by curved intersecting lines of gold—and bit down on her own snack with relish.
The effect was immediate. Her look of joy crumbled.
"I-I…*sniff*"
"Blake? Something up?"
"I want our chef back, this tuna tastes like ashes and disappointme-e-ent!" Blake wailed as tears sprang to her eyes.
Imperial-grade, their previous client had called his smuggled treasure. Fit for a king. The meal of raw fish slices that were her and Jaune's reward more than compensated for the weeks-long merry chase the pair endured at the hand of a planetary security force, their hired mercenaries, and the opportunistic pirates that attacked all parties involved. This fish that she just bought, spiced and cooked, failed to measure up on every count.
How can there exist such a disparity in the same food? Both were tuna, yet the difference spanned the distance of space and earth. And now, having tasted the divine, she must content herself with the pale, mundane imitation crafted by mortal souls.
Jaune, the utter philistine, did not sympathize with her woes. One hand maneuvering the cart, the other holding the skewer, he simply laughed and said, "That's the danger of eating top-class cuisine. It ruins lesser fares. I suggest laying off the seafood for a week or so to reset your palate aaaand you're still eating."
No, duh. Disliking a dish was one thing, wasting it another. She shook her head in refusal when Jaune offered her his portion, though. That one was for him to contend with, which he did by dusting off the meal in three quick bites.
"Bleh." The captain scrunched his face in dissatisfaction. "That's so much worse than I expected, and now I'm seriously considering that we go raid the Thunnus regime for sashimi. What do you think?"
Her lips were already forming a spirited "OK!" when self-preservation kicked in, leading her to instead reply in the negative. As they have learned, the ruling dynasty of Thynnus, the Tuna Planet, favored the use of disproportionate responses to protect their personal farms. Like, literal 'fielding a fleet to hunt one cook' levels of overreaction. Blake enjoyed her seafood like anyone else, but it was a borderline religion over there.
Jaune tapped his chin in thought. "You're right, maybe lying low for a while would be better. Hm. A safe place. With good food. Hm, hm. Have you ever visited a gourmet planet?"
No, Blake, stop. The name may be misleading. Don't get your hopes up just yet.
"I have not. What is that? Please, do elaborate. I'm all ears." To emphasize the point, the cat-ears atop her head pricked up in rapt attention.
Jaune obliged. "That's the term we use when referring to worlds best known for their cuisine. It might be that restaurants account for their biggest economic sector, or maybe they have a culture centered around cooking battles. In any case, you can bank on eating well there. Thynnus could have become one, now that I think about it, had they decided to branch out from ingredient cultivation. A shame that they refuse to share the good stuff, and only ever sell their cast-offs to visitors."
Granted, their 'cast-offs' made for better quality tuna than the majority of other suppliers in the galaxy. If she used that as the barometer for the kinds of food she can find on a gourmet planet… Blake gave a little hop of excitement.
"Can we go to one? Please?" A concern struck her. "I-If we can afford it, that is."
Jaune indicated the bound prisoners on the cart. "Sure thing. Once we turn them over to the guild, we'll have enough to resupply and go on a food tour."
The wriggling pile, upon hearing the captain mention the word 'guild', redoubled the struggle to escape their bonds. Fearsome pirates to a one, they appeared so pathetic now, yet had struck fear in her heart back when they waylaid the Honey Starbright and their pursuers. She had almost strangled Jaune for his lackadaisical attitude throughout the whole affair until he deigned to explain it to her.
The reality of a galaxy full of pirates was that it led to many a vexed government or angry victim willing to shell out princely sums for the chance to see the more egregious of these rogues put away, or put down. For those who made their livelihood among the stars, an encounter with a group of marauders may spell danger, sure, but it sometimes also signaled opportunity.
Jaune called it 'living off the land'.
A five-minute walk placed Blake and Jaune in front of a blocky, three-story building on the border between the port and the town it was attached to. A sign over the entrance denoted it as a branch office of the Bounty Hunter's Guild. On one side of the building, a bar. On the other, a gunsmith.
Jaune tapped a button on the cart and the contraption lifted higher, allowing him to push it up the short staircase. Hopping over a particular step, he called over his shoulder, "Watch that one. The tile's loose, and they've never fixed it."
"Have you been here before?" Blake asked as she heeded the warning.
"Occasionally."
Past the threshold was a lobby, spacious and modern, favoring a sleek white aesthetic. Couches and low tables were scattered throughout, offering places to rest one's feet. A set of vending machines provided refreshments and snacks. On one side of the room, holo-screens mounted near the ceiling blared news reports. Along the opposite wall sat a bulletin board, the soft blue Hard-light soothing to the eye. Wanted Posters floated on its surface, and new ones would pop into existence from time to time, or vanish as a bounty presumably complete. It was flanked on each side by a row of information terminals.
Currently, the office was playing host to twenty-odd people, some congregating around the bounty board while more sat on the couches, following the news. Still others were scoping out the competition.
They looked so, so cool!
Fashion in such a large universe can get wild at times, featuring all manners of impracticality that in Blake's opinion detract from rather than enhance the whole image. Not these men and women. Their outfits matched what she imagined when the term 'bounty hunter' came to mind, maintaining a balance of personal utility and color coordination to create deadly works of art. Eschewing synthetic weaves, preferences trended towards hides and furs no doubt crafted from exotic creatures impervious to bullets or lasers. Belt loops and bandoliers criss-crossed their arms, legs, and torsos, clearly to provide storage for a multitude of tools crucial to the trade. They need not boast of their prowess, for the badges of their adventures shone through in the wounds they carry; Blake spotted one with his hand and forearm covered in bandages, another with a bloodied ribbon tied on a shoulder, and so many more. Way too cool.
Blake awoke from her fangirling as Jaune motioned for them to head towards the long counter nestled at the far end of the guild. It was staffed by a couple of idle receptionists, one of whom perked up when she spotted their group.
"Jaune! Long time no see!" The tanned brunette lowered her gaze to the cart. "Here for a drop-off? You can pass them to my minion there." She indicated the other receptionist, who sighed and waved for the captain to follow him.
"Thanks!" Jaune briefly left to perform the handover, afterward signing a presented stack of forms before returning to the counter. "It's nice to see you again, Amber. How's life?"
The now-named Amber, contrary to the professional image presented by her crisp attire of suit jacket, skirt, and tie, gave a long groan as she slumped over the counter. "It's so booooriiiing! My vacation got canceled because of some stupid pirate blockade cutting off the flight route, can you believe it!? The one time I manage to find part-timers to handle the office, and the universe conspired to keep me here!"
The blockade bit…it sounded familiar. Blake caught Jaune's eyes, and the captain subtly shook his head in caution before sending a significant glance towards Amber. Nervous sweat was pouring down his neck.
Got it. Let's not say anything.
Unaware of their exchange, Amber had continued babbling on without a care. "—and mom's on my case about how I should meet a good guy already. I'm running a business, you know? I'm a career woman, you know? But noooo, marriage's the goal if you want to win at life. Ugh. The way she talks, you'd think I'm milk that's near expiration date. Please, I'm barely out of college. I have time!"
Say. Not. A. Thing. All of Blake's instincts screamed at her to shut up. Warily, she eyed the receptionist, who seemed to have been engulfed by a shroud of deep darkness, misery mixed with an incandescent rage so palpable that Blake imagined it burning like an inferno.
…Actually, was it her or was it hot in here? She swiped a hand across her brow, and it came away drenched in sweat. Nearby, the other receptionist was fanning himself with his datapad. The temperature has definitely risen. You would think they can afford cooling in a place like this.
Jaune—that brave, brave man—inched closer to the woman. A shaky hand reached out to pat her back in sympathy. "There, there, Amber. I'm sure you'll get your time off. As for the things your mother said, don't worry. You're not that old."
Jaune, no.
"I mean, you're what? Eight years older than me? Ten? That's nothing."
Stop it. She's already dead.
Amber's face, which had started to clear up at the encouragement, bled away all colors to become an ashen white as the captain fumbled his point halfway through. Tears pooled in her eyes.
"...It's five years…"
"O-oh." Realizing his mistake at last, Jaune fell quiet and retracted his arm. Lost, he looked to Blake for aid.
Good grief, this boy.
Blake sidled over to take his spot. Leaning down, she spoke into the distraught receptionist's ear, "When you go on your vacation, I recommend you stop by Medalia. I don't know about good guys, but on its sunny beaches, you can definitely meet handsome ones. Reject marriage. Chase romance. Life is an adventure, and like you said, you have time."
No sooner had she finished speaking, the wilted flower named Amber bloomed before their eyes. Lunging forward, she grasped Blake's hand in both of hers.
"Yes! You get it! Mom is just old-fashioned, isn't she? She's not young like us, so she can't understand." Releasing Blake, Amber pumped her fists. "Adventure! Romance! Screw it, I just wanna meet some hotties! WHOO!"
Dead silence reigned in the lobby. Every head was turned towards the woman standing with one foot on the counter and her arms in the air. Amber cared not one whit, brightly smiling as she dropped back into the chair.
"Ahhhh, I needed that. Thanks for letting me vent, you don't know how awful this month has been for me." Blake and Jaune nodded in jerky, mechanical motions, half-terrified of hitting a landmine again. "So, I know Jaune, but I don't think I've met you before," Amber said, directing the comment to Blake, who returned a polite smile.
"My name is Blake Belladonna. A pleasure."
"Crew?" Amber asked Jaune with a considering glance.
"Passenger." He answered.
"Oh, where are you headed, Blake?"
"I don't really have an end point in mind." Blake scratched her cheek in mild embarrassment. "Um, my plan so far is to just stick with the Honey Starbright for a while."
It sure sounded wishy-washy when she put it like that, unable to name a destination, but… well, was this not the point of an adventure? Setting out to unknown places, experiencing the new?
Amber seemed to approve at least, nodding happily. "Great! I keep telling Jaune he needs to get people that stay long-term. It can get pretty lonely in space." Jaune looked uncomfortable; Blake snickered. "Well, it's wonderful to meet you. Any friend of his is a friend of mine." The receptionist put out a hand, which Blake shook. "Amber Autumn, proprietor of the Eighteenth Office, a branch in good standing with the Bounty Hunter's Guild. And, until the blessed day I find more employees, one of its receptionists. How can I help you today?"
Where was the best restaurant in town? Can you point out a cheap supermarket to stock up on emergency rations? Spot me dinner?
All important questions, but Blake refrained from voicing them aloud; Amber was probably inquiring about bounty hunting matters. Stepping to the side, she granted Jaune the floor.
"The drop-off was supposed to be our only business," the captain admitted, "though I would appreciate it if you can update us on any notable targets in the area. My ship can use an upgrade to the Rec Room."
Yeah, because Jaune had crap taste in arcade games.
"Certainly! Let me check the system, but off the top of my head there's a set of escalating bounties put out by two wealthy families on each other's heirs. Either the boy was corrupting the girl, or the girl was corrupting the boy, it's this whole mess. Then we have a wandering martial artist beating down dojos one after another; the schools she defeated now want her humbled in turn."
Amber browsed through her datapad, displaying her familiarity with Jaune by focusing on the odder contracts instead of the highest-paying. She was also giving Blake a free lesson on the sheer pettiness of people; too many bounties boiled down to cases of getting payback on jilted lovers or punishing randos who insulted the client over an online game.
Abruptly, the woman's fingers stopped on one entry. "Uhhhh, here's something that you might want to hear about…Wanted dead or alive, Jaune Arc and Blake Belladonna."
Blake waited for the punchline. When none came, she shouted, "WHAT!?"
"Yeah, says here that it's submitted by the Planet Thynnus government for both of you, and my system pulled one more for just Jaune from…" Amber frowned. "What did you do, Jaune? Because I know this name. It's a front the Branwens use to place bounties on people that pissed them off."
Blake's eyes grew round, and she whirled towards the captain. When she and her friends made it to Neige II, they expected the matter to end there. Retaliation by the pirates that failed to catch Weiss did not factor in their thoughts. The Branwens likely had little information on Blake, Yang, and Ruby, while Weiss was secured outside their sphere of influence, but Jaune? They can reach him!
All of a sudden, the guild transformed into an altogether unsafe place for the pair of travelers. Blake lowered her voice, whispering urgently, "Are you sure we should be here? We're a payday for everyone in this room!"
Contrary to her rising panic, Jaune appeared unbothered. He spun around to lean on the counter, and waved to those who were sneaking glances at their party. They waved back, all too casual for having been caught out.
"The guild is neutral ground of sorts," he explained. "Brawls are fine, duels are fine, but you don't intentionally use the premises as a sanctuary from pursuit, and in return other bounty hunters don't ambush you outside the building after you conclude your business here. It's bad manners."
Skeptical, Blake asked, "We're relying on common courtesy from people who fight and kill for a living?"
He shrugged. "It works in most circumstances. In this business, image is important. See them?" Jaune directed her at the bounty hunters. "See the useless belts and things? The way they always catch the light on their good side?"
No. No way.
Blake panned her gaze across the lobby, heart sinking. The men and women on couches did not sit, they lounged. The ones standing, stood like supermodels, hands on hips to emphasize their curves or crossed in a way that, by total coincidence, flexed their sculpted muscles. The flashy costumes fitted into themes of knights, assassins, cowboys, etc., often matching with fellow teammates. Their whole look conveyed attitudes. They told stories.
Jaune summed it up for her. "Posers, the lot of them. They won't risk looking like trash."
Pirates were classless criminals. Bounty hunters worshipped coolness. The only hero she knew was a lazy wastrel on most days. Her image of the galaxy has been thoroughly shattered.
Can't anything in this place play out like her novels!?
Unaware of her little crisis, Jaune leaned closer to whisper in her cat-ear. "Blake, how do you feel about donning a disguise and pretending to turn me over so we can get the rewards on those bounties?"
Before Blake can answer, Amber cut in. "Don't you dare, Jaune Arc! The last time you abused that trick, my office got reamed by HQ!"
"It was legal."
Amber retorted, not quite hiding her amusement. "You tanked Watts Industries stock by crashing their space station."
"Thus teaching them a very important lesson on decentralization. And on the inadvisability of human experimentation without the subjects' consent," Jaune concluded, showing a rare smug expression. "I recall you making bank, suing them for bad faith due to nonpayment. C'mon, it's a win-win."
"Jaune, no. I'm not dealing with the extra paperwork again."
"Fiiiine," Jaune griped, but relented. "Then I guess we can keep an eye out for the martial artist on our stops. The rest don't really fit along the route. Just checking, though," he added as an aside, "those Rouge and Bleu PMCs aren't fighting at the moment, right? Because I'm headed through their territories, and it'll be nice to have a heads-up on any trouble."
Blake detected the change in the air. Their receptionist fell quiet, good cheer somewhat fading.
After a beat of hesitation, Amber said, "They're peaceful for now, but… there is something else to be aware of, if you haven't heard already. How well have you kept up with the news?"
Her gaze trailed over to the mounted screens, with Blake and Jaune following suit. One station in particular had just started the next segment, and they plastered a picture behind the newscasters. It depicted a widely grinning face, pale skin with bloodshot eyes, irises colored golden. A transition to a second image revealed the man's full profile. Blake gasped at the sight of a distinctive limb extending from his back. A scorpion's tail. A Faunus.
"Tyrian Callow has resurfaced after his last reported death. Orders came down two days ago to reinstate the bounty. Don't take it."
Blake read the mood of the room. Among those watching the same channel, hints of worry etched the faces of veterans and newbies alike, their shifting stances belying uncertainty. Nobody wanted to touch this bounty. Even Jaune reacted badly, lips curling in distaste and a hand bunched into a fist.
The litany of crimes attributed to Tyrian Callow explained their reactions. Blake listened in growing horror as the news report detailed a body count that stretched into the thousands, spanning all ages and races with the last known victims being a 'King Alibaba of Oasis Var', described as having been a royal of note among the monarchic dynasties that comprised the Vacuo Confederation, and his personal guards. The vile act took place in the king's own throne room two years ago. It was stated the surviving knights gunned him down in kind, though that clearly had not taken.
"If you see him, I recommend running," Amber said weakly.
"No, I do not think I will," a new voice declared, coming from right behind Blake to make her leap a foot in the air. Landing, she spun to confront the figure standing in her blindspot, a figure that she knew for a fact had not been there a minute ago.
With reddish hair and gray eyes, one of which was covered by the beanie she wore on her head, the girl appeared around their age and shorter than Blake by an inch or two, her face faintly traced with anger. Her outfit consisted of a thick rainproof cloak over a button-up shirt and tights, supplemented by armor panels strapped to critical areas. On her back rested a massive rectangular case taller than the girl.
Blake had no idea who this was. Jaune, same, going by his blank gaze. Amber was the one to recognize the stranger.
"May, why are you dressed like that? And shouldn't you be at the university?" Realization set in. "Wait, you said—"
"No," the girl repeated, "I have withdrawn from my classes, and am here to request the data package on Tyrian Callow."
Amber floundered for a moment, taking in the other girl's ensemble and the metallic object. Then, her expression firmed. "Not happening. Going after that psycho is tantamount to suicide, and I refuse to drop you in that kind of danger."
"That is not your call to make," the newcomer said in a dull voice.
The answer was swift. "It is. Guild proprietors reserve the right to deny insider details of Rank S bounties for inexperienced members, of which you aren't even one. You're newer than new, so the rule obviously stands." The clipped, professional tone softened. "I know you have every reason to hate Callow, but do you understand what facing him involves? It's killing, May. You're not a killer."
May responded, "For that monster? I can be." She adjusted the strap of the case on her back. "I have trained for years just for this. If you refuse to help, then I can go over to a less troublesome guild office."
The receptionist glanced over to Blake and Jaune, seeking help. The captain obliged, coughing into his hand and attracting the newcomer's attention.
"A bit of advice. Learning to fight is well and good, but hunting a bounty takes more than combat prowess. Fugitives hardly ever stay in one place for long. A form of transport is a basic requirement."
Amber pointed to the captain, brightening. "Right! What he said! You don't even have a ship, and hopping from place to place up there is how you get yourself stranded."
Blake stared at Amber with a deadpan gaze, feeling very attacked by that comment; it covered her entire plan before encountering the Honey Starbright. May, on the other hand, remained resolute.
"With the amount I have saved, that is a nonissue."
Adding her own thoughts to the discussion, Blake said, "A wealthy girl traveling alone is a recipe for disaster. There are many groups who may choose to waylay you." Heck, Weiss had an entire security team and it still failed to deter bad actors.
"And I accept those risks. Amber, please." May said, a note of desperation breaking through the determined facade she put up to strike the receptionist silent. Amber did not respond for a long while as reluctance warred against sympathy. In the end, she shook her head.
"Go home, May."
"Fine then." Fist clenched and teeth gritted, the girl named May stomped across the lobby to the exit.
Blake suspected that the parting line was not one of agreement. Amber did, too, and clutched her head in frustration.
"Damn, damn, damn, damn! That stubborn idiot is going to get herself killed!"
Maybe not, Blake thought, glancing at her companion. His real face said little, but the rabbit mascot head floating on his shirt showed squinted eyes and a thin smile, denoting interest.
-o-
Business concluded, Blake and Jaune walked out into the noon sun, shielding their eyes from its bright glare. Looking ahead, the first thing in their view was a figure sitting on the front steps of the guild building. An oversized metal case holding who knows what rested on the footpath below. Casually, they glided past her, seeming inattentive…
"Hey. You two there."
…and were immediately accosted, May leaping to her feet.
"You are bounty hunters, right?"
Jaune made a so-so gesture with his hand. "Ehhh, kinda? It's more of a side gig to keep my hobby going."
Blake nodded in agreement. She could not have said it better herself. 'Work to live, not live to work', that was her motto.
Or was it 'Live to eat, not eat to live'? Meh, same difference.
She tuned back in time to hear what the girl with a grudge said next.
"And you have a ship?"
She took their shrugs as assent.
"In that case, I want to hire you." May pulled a datapad from her pocket, bringing up a banking app to show them the balance. "A thousand Lien to hear me out. All of it, if you take on the job."
Blake and Jaune shared a look, and nodded subtly as they arrived at the same plan. The two of them were set on intervening no matter what for Amber's sake, but let's not tell their prospective client that little tidbit.
Yay! Payday's coming!
Author's Notes: And a new story begins!
Poor Amber, still cooped up even in space. May she soon find the hotties she is looking for.