Well lookee here, a surprise chapter!
I ended up coming back from vacation rejuvenated, and wanted to update this story after all! So here's that!
Start Chapter 7
Jaune is jostled awake by the bullhead encountering some manner of turbulence, and likely would've been thrown from his seat by how extreme it had been if not for the ropes still tying him down.
As things are, his head rocks forward, and then slams back against the metal behind him as he fights to right himself. Such is rather painful, but ultimately unremarkable, even if he does grumble beneath his breath.
Although…
He's starting to realize that that's not the only part of him that's hurting.
His chest aches. His stomach aches. Everything about him aches.
Before he knows it, he feels bile rising in his throat, and despite his best attempts to contain it, it's spilling from his lips and onto the floor of the bullhead below.
It jostles and moves with the swaying of the ship, which really isn't something Jaune had wanted to have to experience today.
Idly, he notes that the vomit is an inky black in color, almost oil-like, something he's not seen before.
…Perhaps it's Tyrian's venom? That might make some sense, he supposes.
He does still ache, and he has a feeling that that isn't from the vomit. It's something worse, something more insidious. The poison running through his veins is the likely culprit, and Jaune does his best to channel his semblance on himself, giving his inner organs as much of a boost as he can in the fight against the toxin within his system.
He doesn't think he can root it out entirely, but he can at least slow down the degradation until he gets the antidote.
…If he gets the antidote.
Honestly, he's not entirely sure why he's been brought back to wherever it is that Tyrian's going along with Cinder. He understands why she'd be brought back. She has, apparently, been selected to be one of Salem's future enforcers for quite some time, entirely unknowing of such herself.
Jaune doesn't know how such a selection process works, but then, he's also not entirely sure he cares.
Perhaps Salem simply senses the malice and misery in the world, and flocks to it to find those most alike to her, most likely to join her cause.
…He's thinking about Cinder's condition, the last time he'd been awake.
He'd gotten that small look at her through the crack in the cabin door, as Tyrian had finished taunting him, and gone back to drive the bullhead. She… hadn't looked good.
Depending on how long it's been, she might be looking much worse, now.
She's Cinder Fall. You don't have to feel bad for Cinder Fall.
Jaune shakes his head, sighing, wishing the voices inside his skull would abate for a little while. He'd at least like to humor the idea that he hadn't gone totally insane within the Ever After for a little while longer without them commenting on his every thought.
Even if she is Cinder Fall, even if the person she'd one day become had done so much harm, so much damage…
She hasn't yet.
And maybe she never will.
Maybe that's why Jaune had taken her with him, when he'd noticed someone had been tailing them. Maybe that's why he'd fought to protect her.
Because maybe, just maybe, he can change her.
Hah… what a farce. His mind comments rather unhelpfully. You know why you took her. It's because you wanted to help someone for once in your miserable life. You wanted to save someone, like you've never been able to before.
His own mind's worst thoughts. Those that bother him when he tries to sleep, hound him within his dreams, and make their homes within his nightmares.
They're not true, at least not entirely. He'd saved Weiss. He'd saved so many people in Atlas. And yet…
He doesn't think about them. He can't.
His mind focuses on those he couldn't.
Pyrrha. Penny. The hundreds of civilians Cinder Fall herself had launched off into the Ever After, never to be seen again. The Paper Pleasers.
…Ruby.
She came back. He tries to remind himself. Ruby came back.
So had the Paper Pleasers. And yet…
Both cases had been his fault. No matter if the end result had worked out.
Those self-deprecating thoughts fade away as a particularly harsh rocking hits the ship, and Jaune can feel as the vomit from earlier soaks its way into his boots.
He grimaces, even as he does his best to clog his nose, and keep his eyes up.
In that moment, the door to the cockpit finally opens. Out comes Tyrian, a skip in his step like he's on top of the world.
"Ooh, I'm so very excited! We haven't had guests in so very long, why, I'm sure my Goddess will be more than thrilled to have the both of you for dinner in the dining hall this evening!"
Left unanswered is whether or not 'have you for dinner' means that they're to be invited, or that they're the main course.
Jaune's tempted to try and fight his way out of this the moment that Tyrian walks within range of him – he seems utterly unbothered by the vomit that sticks to his shoes, which unnerves Jaune in a way he can't quite describe – and begins undoing the ropes on his body, but in truth…
He's begun to feel weaker over the course of the last few hours. Tyrian's venom is working its way through his system, slowly shutting his body down. It's something he could probably still fight through right now, but whether or not he could do that while battling Tyrian himself?
He's not certain. He's even less certain about his chances of survival out in the surrounding blackened expanse, filled to the very brim with the Grimm, in species and numbers he's never before seen.
And, in all honestly, he's not willing to abandon Cinder here to her fate, either.
In his time, she'd been made into an enforcer for Salem. But that was just it; she'd been made into an enforcer. The little girl he'd met in that hotel had certainly been unstable, but to call her the same as the monstrous megalomaniac she'd been in the future would be a total lie.
He's going to do everything in his power to prevent that person being created in the first place.
And for right now, that means playing along.
As Tyrian unties him, he's clearly positioned to take a hit, and dish one right back, expecting Jaune to resist. He appears disappointed when, instead of that, Jaune just looks up at Tyrian and asks, "Am I allowed to stand yet?"
Tyrian sighs, but waves his hand lazily, as if giving him permission.
He turns himself around, showing his back to Jaune in what must be the single most obvious piece of bait that Jaune has ever seen. He's not quite foolish enough to fall for that, and so he simply gets up, stretches his back up, and follows behind Tyrian.
The man's tail twitches with exasperation, and likely annoyance, too.
Tyrian is hoping for an excuse to cause mayhem, further harm.
It brings Jaune some small joy to deny him the opportunity.
Though that joy quickly evaporates at seeing just how bad Cinder truly looks.
Her face is white. Not pale; quite literally all color has drained from her skin. If she had not been breathing, barely, he'd have assumed her entirely dead.
His protective instincts flare, and before Tyrian can stop him, he's placed both hands on Cinder's body, and is pushing his semblance into her.
He's not entirely sure it's helping. Cinder's breaths don't get much fuller, there's no returning color to her face.
But in the end, he hopes he's done something, at least.
He receives a kick in the spine for his efforts, and snarls back at Tyrian as the man sneers down at him.
"I don't believe I said you could do anything like that, did I?"
"She's dying!"
Tyrian's expression is the same as what one might experience having heard that a leaf had fallen from a tree. "And?"
Then and there, Jaune decides that one day, he's going to finish what Ruby started with this asshole.
"Fine!" He growls out. "Get her to wherever the antidote is, and hurry, damn it!"
Tyrian cocks an eyebrow. "Antidote? Did I mention an antidote? I can't seem to recall."
Jaune's heard just about enough.
He acknowledges, in some far-off corner of his mind, how stupid what he's about to do is. But he can't really stop himself either. He reaches down, takes hold of Cinder's body, and walks right by Tyrian, and out of the vehicle.
"And where is the Rusted Squire off to, now!?"
He ignores the man. Instead, he runs his way up the modest landing strip, and towards the double doors that seem to lead further into whatever infernal castle they've found themselves in front of. He braces his shoulder with aura, and hits the doors hard enough to send one of them hurtling forwards, clearing the way.
"HEY!" He shouts, more than loud enough to summon the entirety of this lands Grimm right to him. "SOMEONE GET DOWN HERE!"
He's not quite expecting an immediate response. He's actually preparing to step further into the castle, continuing shouting until he's heard, until someone answers him, irrespective of his own safety, but–
A cold hand finds its way onto his shoulder.
"There's no need to shout, child." A voice like chipped ice sounds off from behind him, one that Jaune recognizes from their trip inside of that Grimm whale, on their mission to rescue Oscar.
He turns, and there, right in front of him, is the Queen of the Grimm.
Salem seems almost amused.
Jaune's breath catches in his throat, then. He tries to speak, tries to make any noise, but nothing comes.
"Ah, I see." Salem reaches out, and presses her hand to Cinder's forehead. "Hm. It seems she's rather close to death."
"…S-Save her!" He barely pushes out.
"Of course, child." Salem chuckles. "I did not have her brought all this way to allow her to die on my doorstep. Worry not."
And then, Salem flicks her wrist.
And Cinder screams.
Jaune has half a mind to drop Cinder then and there, such is his shock, and yet he holds onto her, even as her body convulses, and her screams grow more intense.
"What are you doing to her!?" Jaune shouts at Salem, and she doesn't even blink, instead continuing with her ministrations.
"I am saving her. Observe."
Just then, as Cinder gives one final, agonized scream, a pus-like liquid rises from out of Cinder's nostrils.
Jaune feels he might've thrown up then, if he'd not done so just a few minutes prior.
It's a mixture of many different fluids, that Jaune can identify immediately. It is blood, and mucus, and likely Tyrian's venom all mixed into one horrible coagulation. He wretches as Salem curls the mixture into a sphere in the air, and then, with a lazy flourish, sends it flying out of the open doors, and off the edge of the airstrip that Tyrian had landed their bullhead upon. It sails off the edge, likely landing in the teeming fields of Grimm below.
And it is only then that Cinder's breaths calm. This entire time, she has been unconscious, and that doesn't change now, but even so, he can see what a relief it is to be free of that venom.
Jaune lets out a breath of it himself, slumping in place and leaning against the wall behind him. His arms are aching, but he doesn't put Cinder down.
"Now that that's settled…"
And then, the choice is taken from Jaune completely, for Cinder is levitated out of his arms by Salem's magic, and then–
Agony.
Pure, raw agony is all that Jaune can comprehend.
It is like his lungs are combusting, like his organs are liquifying. Like the acid within his stomach has been strengthened a hundred-fold, and he's feeling it eat its way out, through the lining, through his intestines, through his very muscles, skin, and bone.
Dimly, Jaune's aware that it's now he who's screaming, but he can't really be bothered with that right now.
He's much more focused on the fact that he's pretty sure he's going to die.
"Who are you," Salem asks, an eyebrow on her forehead rising as she suspends Jaune in the air, magics swirling about him, entering him and exiting him in waves that wrack him with pain, "To question me?"
He can't speak. Can't possibly answer that question. But then, Jaune's fairly certain he's not supposed to be able to answer.
He's just supposed to suffer for the indignity that he's caused Salem.
"Ah, my Goddess!"
And yet, Jaune's saved from his torment by an unlikely source. For as Tyrian steps into the hall that Jaune's being tortured within, Salem drops him like a sack of flour, as if she's grown entirely bored of him.
"Ah, Tyrian." She speaks, and the faunus walks over, kneeling before her in a dramatic fashion. "You've done well in retrieving little Cinder. I take it this man is the one whom you were referring to as the 'tagalong'?"
"Yes, indeed! He was intriguing, very intriguing! He knew of me, even though I had never once met him before! Never so much as seen him! More than that, I think he also knew of you."
Salem gives an interested hum, then. "He didn't react as much as I'd normally expect at my appearance."
"Aha, I knew it!" Tyrian giggles. "And, and, my goddess, look at the symbol on his shield!"
Jaune's barely figured out how to breathe again before he feels Crocea Mors be unlatched from his waist, and suddenly the shield is floating away from him. He hears the sound of Salem grasping it, and, seemingly confused, stating, "This is no shield. It is a scabbard."
"Ah, this button, my goddess."
Jaune looks up in time to see Salem press the button on Crocea to unfurl it, and then watches the expression on her face…
Shift.
Where before she had seemed uncaring, almost bored, suddenly, she seemed intrigued, just as much so as Tyrian had before.
"This… symbol…"
Jaune does his best to put one hand beneath himself, and push his torso up and into a position where he can at least offer some paltry resistance. He doesn't want to die lying down like a dog. At least let him meet Salem's magics with his eyes open.
And yet, when he looks up once more, he sees Salem staring down at him…
Curiously.
"State your name, boy."
Jaune debates whether or not he should lie. Whether or not he should try and finagle his way out of giving the Queen of the Grimm his real name.
But he also decides that in the end, he wants to live right now more than he wants to keep such a miniscule secret.
"Jaune Arc."
Salem weighs that information a moment.
"This symbol… what is it to you?"
"That?" Jaune's still sort of out of it, but as he looks up at Crocea Mors – altered, stained, with metals from Pyrrha, and adjustments from Pietro, and then with rust from years and years of wear – and the twin arches boldly emblazoned on its front, he finds he cannot lie. "It's… the Arc family crest."
Salem does not outwardly react to this information, at least not immediately. She looks back down at the symbol, studies it, and hums beneath her breath.
"How interesting. Do you have any idea the significance of this symbol?"
"I…" He doesn't, and he's been truthful so far. "Other than being my family's crest? No… I don't."
"I see."
The corridor is quiet. The only sounds being Jaune's labored breaths, and Cinder's gradually strengthening ones. She is still hovering in the air above Salem, being held there casually by her magic, as if such a display of power is nothing at all.
"Well done, Tyrian." Salem finally speaks as she drops Crocea Mors, and allows it to clatter to the floor. "I will take young Cinder to her room. As for this man… you will take him to Watts, and have him given your antidote. After that… take him to one of the guest rooms on the twelfth floor."
Jaune's too exhausted to protest his apparent addition to Salem's castle. Even as Tyrian takes him, and hauls him up off the ground, Jaune can barely so much as look Salem in the eye as she turns back to face him.
"Tyrian was right about you, after all, Jaune Arc." Salem says, and then, in a way that does not at all comfort Jaune…
Salem smiles.
"You truly are… quite interesting."
/
The first thing Blake does upon awakening for her shift in the dead of night is haul herself over the snow embankment, and vomit the previous night's meal all over the snow.
It's a rotting, oleaginous color. Something that almost resembles the wretched skin of the Hound that had assaulted them in Atlas. Blake wipes the back of her hand along her mouth, and looks down at it, trying to identify if the liquid is simply stomach acid, or something that she should be immediately concerned about, like blood.
Unfortunately, she gathers nothing about whatever the fluid is, and honestly, she doesn't think she wants to carry a vial of it with her to have it analyzed, either. Instead, she shakes her head, tries her best to fully awaken her body, and then makes her way towards the north side of their formation to take over until the morning light.
Eventually, the sunlight does come, and Blake can stand from her position, and call on the others to help her wake their encampment. It takes longer than it should, nearly half an hour to get everyone up and ready to move, and then another half an hour unpacking everything, and getting it actually prepared to move.
But after an hour or so, they're back on the road.
Or, well, the tundra.
Their journey is long, and harsh, and takes nearly seven full hours. It's well into the afternoon before Blake sees Oaresberg on the horizon. When she does, she calls back to the rest of the group with that news, and is happy when a shout of joy rings up among them.
These kinds of journeys are difficult even for someone like Blake, who has spent her entire life doing such things. For a civilian, they are downright hellish.
And yet, they've not lost anyone. They've had to slow on occasion, but the benefits of taking people from a work camp is that even the older folks had been in a state where they could walk and move about freely. Someone out of commission can't actually work, after all.
It's clear some of them aren't going to be wanting to do much moving around for a while after today, but still, they've made it, and that's what matters.
"All of you, I ask that you wait here until I can secure us passage." Blake announces, and the group seems antsy about that. "I understand you might be weary to be without my protection, but trust in those around you. They will not betray you. I should not take long. If I'm gone more than two or three hours without any response, then come up with another plan."
She doesn't anticipate being taken out of the game for any reason, but even so, it's best to prepare them for the slight possibility. If she's somehow accosted, or otherwise inconvenienced, she's counting on those she'd chosen to guard the encampment along with her the previous night to be able to come up with a decent plan.
Blake tries to make herself look at least halfway presentable, and then heads into town.
Oaresberg is the same as it had been when Blake had last seen it. It's a fishing town, mainly, alongside being one of the few ports that Atlas had that would actually ferry people to and from Menagerie. She just needs to find a ship captain willing to look the other way on the identities of their passengers while they make that very journey.
Of course, they'd be paying them a hefty sum.
That's what Blake has, slung along her back. A sack filled with their collateral.
She scopes out the ships near the docks, and tries to identify anyone who looks like they might be in the business of shady dealings already. It's always a risk, trying to find someone for something like this. One wants someone willing to ignore the law in favor of their own self-interests, while also one who isn't willing to simply turn in the hundred or so prisoners they had aboard for a hefty sum of Lien.
Such is difficult, but luckily, Blake recognizes one of the older men at the dock.
He is younger, certainly. His lengthy white beard hasn't yet come in – and in truth, it still has more than a bit of black peppering it – and his eyes lack that same edge, but he is, without doubt, the same man that Adam and Sienna had once worked with to get escapees out of Atlas in the past. He'd taken them alongside his normal goods to Menagerie, a place he'd been going to regardless, and thus, their relationship had always been a fruitful one.
Passage for the White Fang and its extras; a little extra lien for the ship's captain and crew.
Whether or not such dealings are already happening now… well, Blake has her doubts.
But she wants to hope that she can count on him.
So, she makes her way over. She waits until he isn't talking with any of the other crewman, and then approaches him directly.
He watches her as she closes the final few meters, his eyes scanning her, evidently wary.
"What can I do you for, Missy?" He asks in a gruff, but ultimately kind-sounding voice.
"I have a group seeking passage." She tells him. "Around a hundred of them. They're looking to sail to Menagerie."
The man's eyes widen. "Hah, then I'm afraid you'd best seek out a different ship, there, miss. This ships not meant for haulin' people."
Blake knows that. The large ship she's looking at resembles the one she'd road alongside Sun with to Menagerie just after fleeing Beacon, albeit in much poorer condition. It is christened 'Divinity', and the difference between it and the ship she'd ridden in the past is quite obvious; it is rather clearly outfitted to haul cargo, not passengers.
Yet Blake has a feeling she can change the man's mind.
"I'm not asking you to do this out of the goodness of your heart." Blake explains, reaching back around to the sack hanging from her shoulder, and offering it out to him. "You'd be paid for the… added weight on your next delivery. And for keeping this entire thing under wraps."
He scans Blake's face for any signs of deceit, and then, seeing none, but evidently suspecting foul play, he looks down at the offerings within the sack. His eyes widen at what he sees.
Military Grade Fire Dust, that which had been within the SDC guard's emergency kits. Along with that, there're several crystals mined from the inside of dust mine itself.
That should, in theory, be worth a good hundred thousand lien, all told.
The man looks back up at Blake. His eyes are growing harder by the moment.
"And just who would we have the honor of allowing onto our ship, Miss…?"
"Weiss." Blake gives her fake name. "And you'd be hauling those with nowhere else to go. Those who've done nothing wrong, but been labeled criminals all the same. Those," Blake flexes her ears rather obviously, "Like me."
The man understands what she means. At the very least, she knows he's sympathetic to the Faunus' cause. Blake watches as his features contort, as his mouth opens and closes, and he lets loose a great sigh.
"…Alright, missy." He tells her, shaking his head, but smiling wanly all the same. "Call 'em over, and be quick about it. They're going to have to fit below deck, and they can't be seen during the loading of the ship later today. They'll be trapped down there for a week's journey afterwards."
"That's fine. They'll be happy to be moving at all."
The man huffs out a breath, but nods his head. "Alright then. Guess we've got ourselves a deal."
Blake nods her head, already stepping backwards, back towards the group. "Thank you, sir."
"Hah…" He shakes his head.
"…Least I can do."
/
Alabaster Rhodes sits within a dim interrogation room inside of Atlas' main military compound. His arms are folded on the table in front of him, and his gaze is affixed to the back wall, directly opposite him.
To be clear, he is not a suspect in the current investigation. In fact, he'd come willingly in order to give his statement on the events that had happened within the Glass Unicorn. After all, he'd always been one to abide strictly by the law, no matter what the case.
"But sometimes the law protects the oppressor, instead of the oppressed. Sometimes we must do what's right, regardless of what the 'law' states is correct."
…Rhodes' frown deepens.
In that moment, the door at the back of the interrogation room opens up, and in steps a figure that Rhodes is quite familiar with.
"Alabaster." Captain James Ironwood of the Atlesian Military, and likely-soon-to-be-General, nods towards him, his expression grim. "I wish I could greet you with more energy, but I'm afraid the case you've brought to us has taken the wind from my sails."
Rhodes nods back. "That's more than understandable. It's done much the same for me."
"I read your report, but writing often doesn't translate the minutia of these things quite as well as a direct interview. Walk me through what happened from your perspective."
Rhodes does. Over the course of the next fifteen or so minutes, he lays out the crime scene, the victims, and the murderer herself. He lays out his take on events, and speaks of the surprise appearance of that other figure, the man with the rusted armor, and the broken blade.
"Tell me about this mysterious intruder, then. Cameras spotted both he and the girl running down an alleyway a few blocks from the scene of the crime. Ever since that sighting, however, it seems the two have entirely disappeared."
Rhodes bites down on the inside of his cheek. "Damnit…"
"I understand your frustration. Believe me when I say it is shared. To allow a murderer and her accomplice to escape into the night undetected casts a rather harsh shadow upon us all."
Rhodes shakes his head, "I should be blamed. I was too soft on Cinder when I should've focused on apprehending her above all else."
"Alabaster, with all due respect, you thought of the child as a protégé; you can't blame yourself for being human, and taking it easy on her. The fact that you were nearly killed for that kindness is another matter entirely."
Rhodes nods his head, still feeling the ache in his stomach from where he'd been run clean through by Cinder's blades – his own blades. If that man hadn't arrived and resuscitated him, then he's certain he'd have perished from such an injury.
And isn't that just adding to the list of questions?
"You say he saved your life, correct?"
Rhodes is loath to admit it, but it is the truth. "Indeed, Captain. He had a healing semblance; or at least a semblance that could be used in such a way. It brought my own aura back from nothing, and kept me alive long enough for my system to start helping itself."
Ironwood nods, writing something down in the margins of a folder he has splayed out on the table. "Interesting. Aura enhancement semblances are quite rare. We might be able to check against a list of all known users, and find a likely suspect given his appearance. In the case that we are able to narrow down a few candidates, would you be willing to look over their files for me?"
"Of course, Captain."
"It's much appreciated." Ironwood clears his throat. "Now, onto the matter of this Cinder–"
"Actually, sir, there was one more thing."
James' eyes widen, but he nods his head. "Very well; what is it?"
"There was something odd about this man. He couldn't have been any older than… twenty-one, twenty-two years old? But somehow, despite how youthful he appeared, both his armor and weapons showed wear and rust that must've taken years to build up. His sword, especially, had been broken down the middle. It seemed an old break. Decades old, by my estimations"
Ironwood nods his head, writing something else in the folder. "Anything else?"
"The symbol on his shield… I believe I recognized it."
Ironwood's eyes widened. "Truly?"
"It was the Arc's family crest. You may know of Nicholas Arc?"
James Ironwood paused a moment, evidently to think.
"He's… a Huntsman out of Vale, correct?"
"Mm. I met him just the once, while I was down there myself. But he left an impression. Not a larger-than-life figure in any sense of the word. The opposite, I'd say. He was no-nonsense, no heroics, and extremely by the book. Well, I say he left an impression, but in truth, I'd all but forgotten about him up until I saw that weapon the man was using. It was a near match for Nicholas' own."
"And yet this wasn't Nicholas himself present, was it?"
"It wasn't."
"A relative, then?"
"That's what I'd assume, Captain."
Ironwood hums. "I'll make some calls, see if I can't turn up something about a rogue 'Arc' on the loose. You've done well, Alabaster. Thank for you taking the time to speak with me tonight, I know you're still recovering from your injuries."
Rhodes nods his head, and he can't help thinking that he doesn't deserve time to recover from those injuries. He'd been too late to save anyone, too late to stop Cinder from murdering those people, and then too soft to do what truly had to be done.
As he mentally berates himself, however, Captain Ironwood steps over to him, and places his hand on Rhodes' shoulder.
"Don't worry, Alabaster." Captain Ironwood tightens his grip on his shoulder.
"We'll make sure these fugitives see justice."
"The both of them."
End Chapter 7
Yep. That do be the whisperings of plot on the horizon.
Captain Ironwood makes his debut, as does a pov segment from Rhodes! They're on Jaune's case... or, well, they think they are, at least. We'll see how that works out.
Meanwhile, Blake bribes a man to ship her and her refugees to Menagerie. How will that work? How do Blake's plans always work?
Anyways, more on what happens next... next week!
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