"Pick it up." The words cut through the silence that hung over the stage.
Jaune stared flatly down at Brawnz. Looking at the anger coming alive inside him with detachment. The red on his cheek from where his glove had slapped him disappearing in the red and purple that flushed over Brawnz features.
"Pick. It. Up." Each word out of his mouth fuelled the rage in Brawnz's heart, the boy shooting up from the couch. The slight uptilt of Brawnz's head making him even more enraged. Pushing his chest forward until there were no space between them.
"And who do you think you are, huh?" Brawnz snarled out, pushing a finger into his chest. "You've been acting high and mighty this entire stream. Free speech, bitch. Heard of it?"
"Yes. I have, matter of fact." Jaune replied flatly, taking a handkerchief out of his vest and wiping away the spittle Nolan had left on his knuckles. "But here in Vale, we have something called common decency. Something it seems like Vacuo lacks. Your parents must be ashamed of you. To say nothing of your countrymen. Ren and Nora might be orphans, but even then, they got more manners than the whoreson you call teammate."
"Don't you say something about my mother, you hear?!" Brawnz hissed, shooting his hand out and grabbing his shirt and yanking him forward.
Jaune didn't budge, standing his ground as he calmly reached up to grab Brawnz by the wrist. Turning it and forcing the boy in question to let go if he didn't want to strain his aura. "Hypocritical of you. How come your team gets to badmouth the lack of parents in mine, but I don't get to do the same to you?"
Smugness laced his every word as Jaune let the smirk etch itself on his face. Hours of sitting there, of ridicule in the chat, of questions poking him again and again, and of thinly veiled insults said as components. He had played his part; he had played ball. Knowing there was something larger going on and knowing the 'greater good' required them playing along. Even if it galled him to do so. But even saint's had their limits, to say nothing about him. He wasn't about to let someone calling his brother and sister 'lucky' for being orphans go.
"Pick. It. Up." Jaune said word for word, each word laced with scathing pity and disgust. Having learned from the best how to properly insult someone. "Have you never been challenged to a duel? Or do you want me to turn around so you can shoot me in the back of the head?"
"If you want to go, we can go now." Brawnz shot back instantly, cracking his knuckles as he glared.
"I wasn't challenging you. I am challenging your team." Jaune replied flatly. Pretending he didn't hear the Queen's muttered approval. "It's only polite to go to the leader, no? Even if the plush your mother bought you by spreading her legs would make a better team leader than you. Because it isn't Nolan who is the whoreson, now is it?"
Another meaty twack rang out on the stage. Jaune took the punch square to the face. Not flinching or even feeling more than a dull throb as the aura coated knuckles crashed into his nose, only holding his free hand up to stop his friends from doing something. Checking his nose if he was bleeding, he ignored the caution that crept into Brawnz's eyes. "Really? Is that all? I let you hit me square in the face without aura, and you coulndt even make my nose bleed. How disappointing."
Jaune swore he heard the echo of 'that's how it feels bitch' from somewhere. Pushing the thought away, apathy was the only thing that remained inside. What anger he had felt disappeared into disappointment together with his expectations. 'Huntsmen are people in the end, huh.'
"But I stand by what I said. Even more now than before." Jaune continued, choosing his words carefully to dig as deeply as possible. "How can you have grown up in a whorehouse, and not figure out that the reason your female teammate cover herself in so much clothing isn't because she is shy. But because she is uncomfortable around your team."
"If May doesn't feel safe, she should take it up with me." Brawnz replied instantly, red and purple creeping up and down his neck.
"It's because of you that she doesn't feel safe." Jaune countered instantly. Ignoring the way May stared at him and subtly shock her head. Not caring if she was thrown under the bush, he was done caring for today. "But, the duel, if you are to chicken to accept. How about a handicap? My team excluding Pyrrha, against yours? Opening match of the tournament?"
"Heh?" Pyrrha exclaimed from behind him. Sounding as if she was about to protest.
"Sorry Pyrrha, but this isn't going to be a fight. It's a race to see who can crack Nolan's skull open on the arena floor first." Jaune explained, not needing to look behind him to see how Nora was grinning.
"Oompa loompa doopity doo, I'm going to crack a skull or two." Nora sing-songed with glee. Already completely on board.
"Oompa loompa doopity doo, your friends will sleep in the same grave as you." Ren continued dryly. Some energy creeping into his voice again. His spirituality having settled after his quick trip to the bathroom. It was still surging, but it wasn't threatening to destroy itself anymore.
"But-" Pyrrha tried.
"Come on, Pyrh, it'll be fun." Nora interrupted her. "You'll get your fun. If you want, you can take the duo match alone. I'm sure no one would mind if you were to challenge yourself. But this? This is personal."
"If we orphans can do what we want, per his teammates words, then I am going to use my privilege by making sure he can never walk again." Ren said flatly, butting into the conversation. His face as if cared from stone as wild emotions roared inside him.
"You get him good yeah?" Sun called out. Sharing a look with Ren and Nora.
"Deal." Brawnz replied, slapping away Jaune's outstretched hand. "So Beacon arena tomorrow? Let's say, ten in the morning?"
"Oh? Never took you to be someone so pessimistic." Jaune replied with a smile. "Do you really think the council isn't going to milk this to the fullest?" Gesturing towards the closest tv-screen a dozen Jaune didn't even need to look to know what was on there. Only nodding to himself when colour rapidly drained from Brawnz's cheeks. A loud gulp escaping him.
Taking a deep breath, Brawnz turned back to stare into his eyes. Mustering his confidence as he shot him a hard glare. "You are going to lose so hard it isn't even funny. Huh, wonder what Pyrrha's fans will say when they find out she won't fight in the tournament because her team leader is full of shit and more arrogant than a peacock."
"Is that all? Isn't Vacuo infamous for cursing? Is that really your best?" Jaune taunted, unable to muster a smile or smirk even as red and purple returned to Brawnz cheeks. All he could feel was pity, May didn't deserve this team. He may have never really talked with the girl, but no one deserved to be uncomfortable around their teammates. That Brawnz hadn't noticed, or subconsciously ignored it, spoke more about the man than anything. 'Doesn't help that he doesn't even recognise how badly it reflected at him that he hasn't done anything all the times Nolan ran his mouth.'
Turning, he moved back to his team and sat down on the coach. Shooting a curious glance to the tv-screen and the waterfall of comments shouting for them to just duke it out now. He didn't even need to think to know that tomorrow, large banners of his team and Brawnz's would be hung around the city. Giving the people something to look forward to together with the tournament. 'Not to mention all the extra hype that would be generated around the tournament.' Jaune thought as Violet scampered back into his lap. Absentmindedly fishing out a comb, he began gently combing her hair.
"Cat got your tongue? Not going to say anything?" Roy taunted from the couch to his left.
"No. There is nothing to say. We will fight, we will win, and all the orphans in the world will feel vindication at seeing you humiliated before tens of thousands." Jaune explained patiently, as if lecturing a child. "Why should I insult you when your teammate does a better job at insulting your entire team than I could ever do?"
Reaching into his vest, he took out some smelling salts and threw it over to Roy. "Smelling salts, we don't want princess over there to be sleeping for the rest of the stream, do we?" Jaune added helpfully with a smile.
"And whose fault is that?" Brawnz spat, shooting him a glare. Even if he looked to Roy. The boy nodding back and unscrewing the cap before forcing the smelling salts under Nolan's nose.
"Well if broski over there hadn't introduced his fist to his face. He would have ended up with my foot so far up his ass I would be wearing crocks." Sun butted in, glaring at Nolan while his teammates nudged themselves closer to him. Looking ready to burrow him in bodies if he was going to try anything. His tail slinking back and forth like a snake as Sun's eyes never moved from Nolan.
"But dude, why are your eyes yellow?" Flynt asked, looking happy that most of the tension was gone and that it hadn't broken out into a brawl. Snatching the smelling salts out of the air before they could hit him in the head, Jaune ignored the glare Brawnz sent him.
"Who said Violet was my entire semblance?" Jaune deflected with his tried-and-true lie. Nodding to himself as Lisa forced herself to not do a spit take, instead coughing wildly as what she had in her mouth went down the wrong pipe.
"Semblance?" Lisa asked as she forced herself to get her choking under control.
"Yup." Nora pipped with a smile. "Me and Pyrrh were already awake, looked to the side one moment, blinked, and suddenly, there she was. Fully dressed and pointing a gun at our heads."
Violet blushed in his lap as everyone suddenly turned to stare at her. Nora paying her no mind and continuing with a grin. "She even fired a shot to!" Nora exclaimed, beaming in pride. "She even has aura and everything as well."
"How?" Lisa explained. What she wanted to know being lost in confusion.
"Well, some of us Arc's are blessed with fertility so strong that we can father entire football teams. While other of us reproduce asexually." Jaune explained calmly with a confident nod. Seeing the gobsmacked expressions on everyone else, he pushed on full throttle. "You don't need to kill your enemies when you can have your son's or grandsons finish the job for you. You just need to tilt the board heavily enough in their favour and make sure the bloodline wouldn't be snuffed out."
"Hell-oo! Can we go one minute without team looney toon over there derailing everything?" Flynt called out exasperated. Leaning back into the coach as he stared up at the roof with enough spite to fuel a beast or two in Yharnam.
"I resent that acclaim." Jaune replied with a roll of his eyes.
"Yeah!" Nora exclaimed in support.
"Girl. How?" Neon asked Pyrrha with nothing but pity.
"Oh no, this is pretty mild, to be honest." Pyrrha replied with a tight smile. "This is mild." She muttered while her eyes took on a lost quality. Staring emptily out into the space before her, until Pyrrha shock herself awake and plastered a smile on her face. "This is mild. Let it be mild. We are having fun."
"Are you… ok?" Neon pushed gently. Concern shining in her eyes as she stared at Pyrrha.
"Ok, so I might have lied a little." Jaune rolled his eyes. Pocketing his comb as he began braiding Violet's hair. "Obscured the truth a just a tad. But it sounds more polite than saying she is an aspect of my semblance. If you need help to wrap your head around it, you can think of my semblance being in the same vein as the Schnee family semblance. But instead of temporary manifestations, mine are permanent. Should they die, or be harmed, they are gone. I can't 'recrate' Violet, as say, Specialist Schnee can recrate an Ursa."
"But." Jaune continued before anyone could break him off. Violet bringing up her aura, and making soft burned gold, like the first rays of dawn, shine of her. As he brough up his own hand and made dusk burnt gold appear. "She has her own aura, her own soul, her own thoughts, likes, dislikes, quirks, and faults. Making her just as alive as me and you. Of course she can't be too far away from me, even if I have some ways to circumvent that. However, Violet being so alive, so human, makes it hard for me to see her as anything but one of my own. Compared to say, Specialist Schnee's more pragmatistic approach to summoning in a fight."
"So your semblance is literally popping out children, to fight for, or with you." Brawnz butted in with a sneer.
"An aspect of it." Jaune corrected with a roll of his eyes. "But honestly, if I wanted to use my semblance to pop out child soldiers like a Vacuan warlord, I know the headmaster and vice-headmaster would have me behind bars before you can say coup."
"You would be correct." Professor Goodwitch voice crackled over the stage from the speakers. "While we the staff, have faith in Mr Arc's character, knowing that he would never do anything to hurt Violet. We are also ready to step in at any moment should something happen. Should a hair on her head be touched, by Mr Arc, his team, or any other of our students. We will be coming down with everything we have. Beacon will not stand for anyone harming children. It doesn't matter if she is a 'sentiment semblance' or Mr Arc popped her out asexually. People like that have no future in Beacon, and even if they are simply teenagers, Beacon will see to that they will have no future outside her walls either."
"That sounds like the most convoluted and unnecessarily complicated semblance in the history of semblances." Neptune called out. Shooting an inquisitive glance at Violet. "Still think she is possessed by the murdered soul of a Victorian era child tho."
"On the basis of our friendship. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. But I also know that you sleep in the second left bed in room four-oh-two." Jaune replied with a flat smile. Enveloping Violet in his spirituality, so none of the young Queens could possess her and lay into Neptune. "Do with that what you will. Sleep tight."
"Are you placing a hit on me?" Neptune exclaimed, half in shock the other in wonder. "Am I going to wake up? What do you mean by sleep tight?!"
"Mr Arc, I may have looked the other way when you challenged Team BRNZ, if only because of Mr Porfiro's obvious lack of decorum. However, the Vytal festival stands for unity and comradery. Please do not threated any other teams." Professor Goodwitch's voice crackled through the speakers again.
"That wasn't a threat." Jaune clarified with another roll of his eyes. "I was simply sharing information with my good friend. And even if he were to run his mouth, I wouldn't go so far as to threaten my buddy. We are friends. If I wanted to threaten someone, I have other ways to do it. I'm simply informing him that mysterious things seem to happen to those who pick a fight with Violet. Isn't that right, Ren?"
"You would be correct." Ren answered, backing him up as dutiful as ever. "If I remember correctly, something weird did happen to team Cardinal. I think they returned to find the cut of heads of the birds they were named after under their pillows." Smacking his lips, he allowed an ironic smile to split his lips. "They tried to blame it on us. But how could we have done it when we were with them the entire day?"
"I'm dead." Neptune mumbled defeated, falling back into the couch as he stared listlessly onto the stage roof. "Died a virgin no less. All because Violet is some mafia princess."
"Mr Arc, you and your team will be serving detention with me through the weekend. What did I say about threatening our allies?" The voice of Professor Goodwitch crackled with exasperation. "On that note, the moment we figure out how your team managed what you did, all of you will be serving detention for two months. At least. What do Ozpin think-" She began anting before her voice cut out.
"But we didn't do anything." Jaune replied instantly, momentarily falling into old habits.
"Yes! We have alibis!" Nora exclaimed gleefully. "Fool proof ones at that!"
"You really aren't helping those mafia allocations, Arc." Kobalt called form the Atlas couch. Smiling widely even as the way he looked at him had changed. Caution and some fear having crept into his eyes, dampening his confidence slightly.
"Yes. Yes. But shall we move on?" Jaune asked with a roll of his eyes. "Before my team and I are saddled with detention until our hair turns grey?"
#-#-#
"Ha! Look out Hei, you might have competition soon." Roman called out, amusement and pettiness dancing inside. His broken nose throbbed painfully every time the kid came on screen. Compared to the two of them, he would take Red every day of the month. She was as predictable as she was naive. Which was to say extremely.
Protecting Red had been charity on his part, she was a good kid, if a bit misguided and reckless. Roman may be a cheat, a thief, and an overall crock. But he had standards. The world was a dirty place, cruller than it had any right to be. And human, and faunus, callousness only made it worse. The train was going to crash, and he would be off, and Red would be dead.
'Maybe making her die in a terrorist attack isn't objectively moral. But I don't know what the fang does to prisoners, and I rather not find out.' Roman thought to himself. Reaching up to scratch his nose, only for chains to rattle. His cuffed hands not moving a single millimetre. "What do they feed kids these days?" He huffed in frustration. "Did Red's dad feed her cocaine when she was small? She's as twitchy as Neo is staby. Don't even get me started on mr 'hey, that train shouldn't be here. Let's raid it.' What a great fucking idea. Because of course he can see through illusions, and of course he can teleport his murder child to him. You might fool the people watching, Arc. But you can't fool me. That child took down seven terrorists without blinking. Don't think I have ever seen Neo so proud of what someone else did."
Two heavy bangs rang against his 'detainment pod'. 'Because of course Atlas is too advanced to have holding cells.' Roman grumbled as a soldier shouted out at him. His words going in one ear and out the other.
"Oh come on, can't a man be allowed to scratch his nose?" Roman called out. "It's actually illegal to detain someone in solitary confinement and chaining them at the same time."
"Not in Atlas."
"But we aren't in Atlas, are we? Dumbfuck!" Roman called out, feeling his tongue looser and heavy with insults he otherwise found himself above festering in his mouth. He was an extrovert through and through. Watching the general's charity stream turn into an absolute shit show was good, but it would have been better if he could have had someone to throw banter with.
"I should find a way to by the Arc kid something good after when I get out." Roman mumbled to himself. "After I break his nose first. It's only polite after all."
"Shut up in there!" One of his guards outside shouted, banging his fist loudly against the door.
"Make me!" Roman quipped right back. Wondering if he could get a guard to beat him up. 'With how much heat the Arc kid put on Atlas by calling them out, it's only a matter of time before Vale sends someone up to check on me. I do wonder how it would affect public opinion of them if Atlas were found abusing prisoners. And if not, it's at least going to make it easier to help flame bitch. Who knows, chaos is the mother of opportunity after all. If I were to crank it up a bit further, I might find a crack to slip through and survive this fucking ordeal.'
He wasn't born yesterday. Vale wanted him dead, Atlas wanted him to rot, Fire bitch wanted to end him, while the fang was itching to tear him to pieces. The only reason he ever 'joined' fire bitch, was that he would be a crisp if he didn't. 'I will do what I do best. Lie, cheat, steal, and survive.'
If that meant gambling his life playing Vacuoan roulette with six rounds loaded, and his only chance at surviving being a misfire. He would still spin the chamber and put the barrel up to his head a thousand times and more. Even if that sliver of possibility was a figment of delusion, he would still fight and do everything in his power to make it real. The world be damned.
"Man. I could really use a smoke." Roman mumbled to himself as he leaned back into the surprisingly comfortable chair he was tied to. Only raising a single eyebrow as the doors opened and soldier marched in. "Don't think I can bum a dart of you?"
"The general wants to see you." The soldier replied flatly. Tapping a button on the wall and making his cuffs come off. Three rifles pointed at his face. Calmly, Roman brough a hand up and snapped his nose back into place. Ignoring the cutting pain, gargling in the back of his throat and spiting out a glob of snot and blood.
Standing up and stretching slightly, Roman had to stop himself from moaning. The butt of a rifle slammed into his stomach. Knocking air out of his lungs as he almost collapsed from the blow. Some days of sleeping badly and eating little making him slower to react than he would have liked. Wiping away some spittle, he coulndt help but shot the perpetrator a fierce grin. "Hitting someone in the stomach so the blows can't be seen. And here I thought Mantle was above such barbaric brutality."
"The general wants to see you." The soldier replied flatly, not even shooting the perpetrator a glance. Only nodding slightly as two other soldiers came into his little holding pod and slapped cuffs around his wrists. Before marching out. The two other soldiers pulling him out and forcing him to march.
It was a quick marsh, and not five minutes later. Roman found himself in an interrogation room, hands chained to the table and sporting a black eye together with a shit eating grin.
Whistling a jaunty tune, he didn't need to wait long before the general came marching in. All the other soldiers in the room leaving as he pulled out the chair and sat down on the other side.
"Really, the general of Mantle? For little old me? I'm honoured." Sarcasm fell of his tongue as he gave a shit eating grin.
"Atlas." Ironwood corrected sternly, showing nothing but a mask of stone on his face.
"Nah, try again chief." Roman courted instantly with a roughish grin. "You don't get to have a revolution, coat your 'high' district in a layer of new paint and change your name. When the first thing you do is put the same people back in power. It would be the same as if I gave myself a spray tan and started calling myself Raman. Do you know how stupid that sounds? The only thing your revolution did was make the economic gap visible. Literally. It's the biggest failure in modern history! And you go around tutting it's like it's some God's gift to the world."
"Your companion talked, Roman." Ironwood stated flatly in all seriousness.
Roman stared at Ironwood, not believing the audacity of the man before him before breaking out into laughter. Not even stopping when the general beat his palms into the rickety table and stood up. "It's not funny Roman. We know you are a pawn. A discarded one at that."
"Neo is mute." Roman squeezed out through bouts of laughter. "I know interrogation without putting a gun to someone's head is something Mantle can't do but come on. You can at least try."
"We know she is inside Beacon posing as a student." Ironwood said flatly, hard steely eyes looking over him betraying nothing. "You don't have to remain a pawn-"
"I'm a seven of heart's." Roman interrupted, not letting his surprise sneak into the voice. Instead grinning as he stared at the general. "You can use all the chess metaphors you want. It doesn't change the fact that we are playing poker."
"We are willing to offer you and your companion a plea deal." Ironwood continued. Only the slightest twitch of an eyebrow proving that his words had the desired effect.
"I'm afraid I can't accept, no matter how lucrative you make it." Roman shrugged idly. "I prefer being a seven of heart's compared to the pair of aces and eights you are sitting on. Really, between the two of us. You should fold."
Roman grinned as Ironwood stood up and called in two soldiers to march him back to his cell. 'Sorry chief, only a misfire can save me now. After all, we are playing by street rules. The bat is already swinging towards the back of your head.'
#-#-#-#-#
"Were you scared?" The host asked, not looking as pretty or as composed as she usually did.
"Yes. But not for me." His hero replied instantly. Making doubt and heartbreak come surging through Robin as he forced himself to sit up straighter. A familiar and uncomfortable weirdness shot through him as he moved his right arm, and nothing happened. Neither did the weirdness stop when he pushed against his bed and only tilted himself to the right. The panic that shot through him when he felt himself falling only stopping when his right arm shot out and grabbed the bed frame. Steadying him and making the incessant beeping calm down.
"Here, let me help you." His mother said, helping him sit up properly. Pinpricks of tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at him. Robin didn't shy away from her touch as he may have done before 'that' day. He was seven, he was a big boy, he didn't need his mother to coddle him.
He was also seven, missing his left leg, his right arm, and knew from the bottom of his heart that the only reason he really was alive was because of his dad. Who had felt something was wrong and pulled him into his chest.
Robin furiously blinked away the tears that welled in his eyes whenever he thought about his dad. He had always been standoffish. Wanting to play football when he wanted to play games. But he hadn't hesitated.
"It's tied into one of those things that's never really talked about in the hunter circle and is hard to describe in words. It's different from hunter to hunter." His hero said plainly, his eyes dancing between blue and yellow as he spoke. "When I saw that train on the tracks, I moved without thinking. Uncaring of the grief my reckless action might cause my family. I knew what would happen should the train pass by. Especially with the terrorist activity in the city. And I got scared. Scared of how many would end up motherless, fatherless, childless, or forgotten. So I moved."
"What did you feel?" The host asked gently, something soft flashing in her eyes. "Were you aware that they would retaliate with lethal force?"
"You know, it might sound cheesy, but I'm not afraid of dying." His hero replied, a soft sincere smile on his lips. Making Robin know that he meant those words from the bottom of the heart. "I knew from the moment I took up my sword, that there is a very real chance I won't live to see old age. And I'm okay with that. I made my peace with it. I'm okay with dying forgotten, even if it means I saved a single person. So, while I felt fear, it wasn't for me. It was for all those thousand's in the square. All those who would be cut down by a single act of hate. So I moved. I don't take pleasure in murder, but seventeen terrorists stood between me and reaching the head of the train. And seventeen terrorists died."
"You won't die alone, Jaune." The boy, or man Robin supposed, beside him said with absolute confidence.
"Yeah! Juniper is ride-or-die!" The orange haired girl called out from the side. Making Robin reach out with his remaining hand to squeeze his mothers hand. Yarning to have even a fragment of the confidence in her eyes, so he could wash away the sadness that welled up in his mother's eyes whenever she looked at him.
"You are not getting quit of us so quickly, Jaune." Pyrrha chimed softly, a hardness in her eyes as she shared a look with the team.
His hero huffed, rolling his eyes as he smiled. For the first time in the stream, looking so human. Even with the girl that barely looked older than him constantly climbing into his lap, his hero always looked larger than life.
Or Robin always felt that way at least. It was just something about him. The other boys looked, not scarred, but unserious. They lacked grit, determination. Even Sage, the arguably largest person on the stream, felt small beside his hero. While he was physically larger and more muscular, he lacked the presence his hero had. The sword on his back might be taller than Robin was, but it felt more as a hunk of steel than anything. His hero simply felt larger than life.
Even in such a mundane setting like a charity stream, he demanded attention in a way none of the other's did.
"Yes, yes." His hero smiled as he rolled his eyes. "I get it. Love you too. I'm not suicidal. I'm not saying I will throw myself of a cliff or something."
"But you will throw yourself into danger at the drop of a hat, if it means saving someone."
"I thought you knew me by now, Ren." His hero chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "But it's not like you are wrong. Out in the field, hesitation is defeat. Indecision kills. We wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation if we had let the train pass by. Neither would we have it if we jumped the train later. In moments like those, the future is decided by moments-"
"That's the corniest line I have heard in a long time." One of the other boys scoffed.
"I agree, it might sound cheesy. But, let me ask you this Flynt. How many did that moment save? How many would have died if I never made it to the locomotive's controls? Or if the train had hit with it's full payload?" His hero countered instantly. "Yes, Roman might have cut the cords to the emergency brakes. But that was after the train had bleed of some speed. The 'breach' could, would, maybe even should, have been worse."
Robin sat entranced as his mother bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. A brew of determination, desire, need, and purpose blossoming in his chest as he clenched his remaining fist until his knuckles turned white.
"Mom. Do you think I can be a huntsman?" Robin asked innocently, blinking for one moment. Not recognizing his own voice. It was course, rough and raspy. Frowning, he reached up to his neck. Running his fingers over bandages and stitches. Shuddering for half a second as the scratching memory of choking on his own blood haunted him.
"Do… do you think I can be brave as him?" He asked as his voice broke. "Do… do you think… I can save others before they end up like me?"
"Oh my brave boy. My brave boy." His mother whispered, wrapping her arms gently around him and pulling him into her chest. Drops of tears landed on his head, sliding down his newly shaved scalp.
Tears welled in Robins eyes as he stared at the television as if was his only lifeline. Not managing to force the words that he felt from the bottom of his soul. 'That wasn't what I wanted to hear mom.'
#-#-#-#
The torchlight procession was something. Jaune lacked the words to properly describe it, nothing really fit. It was grand, it was a sea of people stretching through the city with torches held high. Yet it was silent. No one spoke louder than a whisper. And even then, those who did speak were quickly shushed and glared at. The only sounds that echoed through Vale was the sound of thousands marching, torches crackling, echoed by soft whimpering and crying.
As he walked beside his team, just a face in a sea of thousands, Jaune let his eyes wander. Over faces familiar and not. He had seen Ruby and the girls in the crowd once, smiled and nodded slightly when he locked eyes with silver. Pretending he didn't see the self-loathing churning inside his friends. A sentiment shared with the entire time. Smouldering inside Yang, churning inside Ruby, choking Blake and freezing inside Weiss.
He wished he could approach them and say something, but he didn't know what. Not when he himself didn't know what he was feeling. Nor what he was mourning. Maybe it was Alfred's fate, the death of the Viscount, the end of Cainhurst, the many tragedies the castle had born witness too, the young Queens that floated beside him, the infants sacrificed before they could even be born. Or maybe he was mourning some integral part of him that had died in the castle. For no matter how he felt, no tears came. Neither water nor silver twinkled in his eyes. Instead he was left with feeling everything at once with no way for the emotions to escape him.
Leaving him people watching as he felt everything and nothing all at once. He had long since lost count of familiar faces he had spotted in the crowd. Even if he knew the exact number should he think of it. Port and Oobleck were matching side by side with students and other staff. The General marched beside the headmaster with a retinue of his soldiers and other high-ranking staff serving under him.
If it was a pr-stung, or coming from a good place, Jaune found he didn't much care. Not when all he could see were varying shades of black with seemingly no end in sight. He didn't know what was worse, feeling everything all at once, or seeing the pain and sorrow that plagued an entire capital. It was honestly a miracle grimm didn't materialise in the air. The miasma lapped on his skin, the taste slithering into his mouth when he breathed. He could feel how the Queen trapped in his blade basked in it. See how the young queens could do nothing but wail in sorrow not their own.
On autopilot he brough some aura into his locket. The chains around his blade moving on their own and wrapping themselves tighter around his blade. He didn't know how miasma affected Crocea Mors, but with the Queen trapped inside. Even if she coulndt absorb miasma to strengthen herself, it wasn't something he wanted to risk.
No one noticed, no one seemed to care, all to caught up in their own grief. Ren looked to be constantly lost in thought, eyes drifting to empty spots where there was nothing. Nora's usual excitement had long since left her. Something deep and sorrowful filtering in and out of her spirit as she looked at the bouquet in her hands. Violet was quiet, looking around from his back as she fluttered between being awake and sleeping. The long day, with no naps or breaks taking its toll on her. Pyrrha walked alone in her own world, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at a picture no one could see.
As his eyes wandered, he spotted something different. An inferno of dark crimson blazing to a backdrop of dark and sombre spirits. Yet, the inferno was constantly growing. Seemingly consuming itself to grow larger and more furious. The sorrow and tragedy doing nothing to dampen it. Only serving to enrage it further.
"Ren, carry Violet for me for a little while. I think I saw something." Jaune whispered, ever so gently lifting Violet over to Ren. Not looking over at his friend as he gently pushed himself forward in the crowd. Knowing he coulndt let him fade into the crowd. His stomach screamed at him, that he was important. Fuelling him on as he moved through the crowd quickly. Moving with grace he didn't know himself capable of. Pushing himself faster, and moving past men, women, children all who were mourning without breaking them out from their grief.
Chasing that single flame, for once was he thankful for his 'vision' that had transformed from a niche gift into a curse. In his eyes, people were more colour and shapes, spirits and emotions, connection, and souls all mingling together into one shape. It hurt when he coulndt see Violet smile at days his 'vision' was overwhelming, even if the honest joy in her spirit was so beautiful it coulndt be described in words. Yet, now it felt as if he and his vision were on the same page. In the sea of sombre, the inferno stood out as a beacon in the night.
Flicking his wrist, a poisoned knife slid out from his sleeve.
"Never thought I would see you here, friend." Jaune whispered, throwing his arm over their shoulder and placing the edge up against his throat just as a knife slammed against his guts. In a moment they looked eyes, his vision weakening momentarily, allowing him to see who he was chasing.
The blindfold may have blocked his eyes, yet for a moment, it was as if they didn't exist. The eyes might be the windows to the soul, but when all you could see was the soul, it did little. Locks of red and black stood out in his vision before his vision grew stronger again.
"Did you also loose someone?" He asked, pushing the throwing knife against Adam's neck. Not feeling the drain on his aura in the slightest as the man forced the knife harder against his aura. Yet, Jaune didn't know what it was. Beyond the aggression, he knew that, if only for now, both would keep things civil.
"I did. Garnet, Ash, Blayne and Cooper to name a few." Adam replied flatly, voice nothing but barley constrained anger. "They fell to your hand if I remember correctly. But with how you bragged about it mere hours ago, I'm surprised you can find yourself caring."
"I do care. And it's because I care, we are talking together right now, isn't it?" Jaune mumbled to himself. "They were good people. Kind. They shouldn't have died as they did."
"They shouldn't." Adam nodded, shoving his arm of his shoulder. "Yet, it seems violence is the only thing the people in power care to listen too. When we protested peacefully, they threw rocks on us. The change from rocks to bullet's were inevitable. It matters little that we pushed that change when it would have happened either way."
"It shouldn't be like this. When did we draw a line in the dirt? Faunus, Human, why are we fighting each other when grimm are the ultimate enemy?" Jaune whispered to himself. Wondering why he had caught up with Adam.
"Idealistic." Adam sneered at him instantly.
"Realistic." Jaune countered without a second thought. "Especially when they are the only beings on this abandoned rock capable of multiplying exponentially. Should the right circumstances happen."
"That may be so." Adam continued, sending him a scratching glare. Even if the knife that fought against his aura disappeared. "Unfortunately, when it combes between my people and the world, I will always choose my people first. No matter what you say, the cause is just. Even if I should die, I know someone will be there to pick up the flame. Maybe not today, or even next year. But there will come a time when we Faunus have the respect we deserve as living beings. And not being seen as beast."
"You are not beasts." Jaune countered instantly. Taking offence at the word. "You shouldn't have to fight for a respect that should be inherently yours."
"You are a good man, Arc." Adam replied gently. For once his voice sounded sincere, even if it rasped like sandpaper. "I would have been proud to call you comrade. Shame."
"Shame indeed, you would have done great as a huntsman." Jaune whispered gently.
"I'm afraid that dream died inside me when the hundredth grimm raid attacked my home. Yet, no huntsman or team have ever accepted our missions. Even when I know for a fact that the chieftain promised good and fair pay. Why is that?" Adam's voice was soft, no more than a whisper. Yet fiery anger dripped of every word. Parts of the inferno inside escaping.
Jaune didn't answer, knowing there was nothing his words could do to change the facts-of-the-matter.
"Leave me to my mourning Arc. Go home, care for your child, lay down your blade, and I swear on the cause, that no harm will come to you. The world doesn't need to lose more good men. Not when they are already so rare." Adam said after a moment of silence.
"I can't do that." Jaune replied, taking a deep breath. Looking up as a single drop of rain landed on his cheek. "While I can't say I care for much everyone in Vale. I will protect them from harm by the only way I know. Even if it means we will cross blades."
"Then you will die young." Adam promised, not a hint of deceit in his spirit.
"And you will die a martyr." Jaune countered.
"I would rather die a martyr than live with what have poisoned your soul." Adam replied instantly. "Now, leave me to my mourning. Next time we meet I will not greet you with words."
Jaune said nothing as Adam left, disappearing into the crowd that passed him by. "You forgot something." Jaune called out, just loud enough that Adam heard it before he disappeared completely out of sight. Holding up his other hand, a surprisingly well-made remote detonator shone in the firelight of multiple torches.
Surprise momentarily flared through Adam's spirit, before the inferno spiked in intensity. Arms reaching down towards his weapon, grabbing the hilt tightly. Yet the blow never came. And a second later discovered why. A hard hand grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to turn. The general glaring at him with hard eyes, beside him the headmaster and his team gave him varying looks of their own.
"Is this something we can take tomorrow morning over a cup of coffee? Maybe some snacks? Or are we going to be staying up all night?" Jaune asked, trying to crack a joke to lighten the mood. Shoulder's falling as he sighed, already knowing the answer just by looking in the general's eyes.
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Note: I like Roman, he is an opportunist through and through. He is also petty.
Note: And is it dirty writing in robin? Yes. Many of the fics I have read gloss over the breach, it happens, but nothing comes from it. And even when something happens, the consequences are glossed over beyond anger and self-pity from the protagonists. Own the consequences, write it.
Note: Writing the kid was also a fun way to point out Jaune's strongest strength and weakness as a character. That he is strong for others and not himself. Take the ever after, if he hadn't known the others were coming, a very different person would be there to greet him. It's the same with Pyrrha's death in the show. While it's the push he needed to get his head into gear. Jaune have never wanted to be strong for his own sake.
Note: As for something happening during the procession, I was debating it. But I think having Jaune and Adam's drive's clash, if only verbal, will set up both better for the story. In this story at least, they are similar-ish. That it helps build up Adam's character is also an added bonus. He cares, and that's what makes him even more dangerous. He is also someone who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.
