Yakuza Arc Chapter 54 Beacon Days 35, a rwby fanfic

Chapter 54. Beacon Days 35

The room has no windows, just four blank walls and a single lamp dangling from the ceiling to provide a dim glow that illuminated a table and a rickety chair. On that chair, a girl curled up with her feet on the seat.

She's shaking. Tired. Hungry. They took her right before lunchtime, and she had skipped breakfast. They knew that. It's why they did it.

The door opened, and for a brief moment the hallway lights framed a broad-shouldered man, whom one might recognize as General James Ironwood of Atlas, before he stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. Purposeful strides carried him to the other side of the table, whereupon—Bam!—he slammed his bionic fist against the surface, leaving a dent.

Ruby Rose stared at the fist, then at the looming man, and tilted her head in confusion.

"Where's the cookies?"

The usual counterstatement that he was the one asking the questions here was already on General Ironwood's lips, ingrained to the point of reflex, when the words registered.

"The…the what? Cookies?" He could not help but ask. "Why cookies?"

He received an open-mouthed look of disbelief from Ruby, as if he had said something inconceivable. The honest bafflement prompted him to review his mental playbook for these situations again, despite having memorized—and helped in designing—the thing in the first place. It only confirmed what he knew. Cookies did not factor into the process.

Rather than answering him, Ruby ducked her head, and began muttering under her breath. The general craned his ears to listen.

"What sorta crummy interrogation is this? Headmaster Ozpin gave me cookies when he did his interrogation. I think he baked it himself. They were sooooo good. Atlas should have cookies. Better ones, even. Weiss always says the best desserts came from Atlas, and I thought Atlas Academy was rich. Can't they afford cookies? This is so disappointing. Maybe the airship took the whole budget and now they're flat broke. It would explain why they used one cheap bulb for the room. They ran out of funds."

General Ironwood coughed into his hand to get her attention (and to stop the onslaught of lies and slanders spewing out of her mouth).

"Ms. Rose, this isn't an interrogation—"

"Not a good one, at any rate." Her mouth shut with a clack of teeth as she realized how loud she had spoken those words. The general ignored the comment to power on through.

"—isn't an interrogation but an interview. Now, I—"

"Wait, is that the reason why? In that case, can we make it an interrogation, so I can have my cookies?"

"No."

"Then can I leave?"

"No."

A second round of mumbling started, the girl seeming unaware that he can hear everything said. "I dunno, this sounds an awful lot like an interrogation to me. I think an interview implies I have a choice in being here, meaning I should be able to go and grab lunch at the cafeteria instead."

General Ironwood winced, though it went unnoticed to his relief. Ruby Rose was correct to suspect something amiss. The agreement with Vale on the Vytal security measures allowed for the questioning of Beacon students on a voluntary basis, and forbade harsher procedures in the absence of an arrest.

Did it mean he would refrain from using the harsher procedures? Well, no. He fully intended to skirt around those limitations in order to protect the city and academy in an effective manner. The lives of the people took precedence over political jurisdiction issues, hence the show of force and authority he projected, a smokescreen to color her perception that he can detain her until he deemed the meeting over.

All of which may be undone by Ruby Rose simply walking out of the room, as was her right.

To decide on how he should proceed, the general studied her body language, the fidgeting and the glances at the door, and came to a conclusion that she would not play into their hands. With a sigh, he dialed back his aggressive posture, writing off the girl as a loss. Aggravate her further, and she may realize the trick, thus warning others. He had many more chances after this, anyhow.

General Ironwood rubbed at his temple in frustration. "Just answer me this one thing, Ms. Rose. Who is Jaune Arc?"

"Is that what this was about? You could have just asked me down in Beacon! He's my friend. A really nice guy. Says hello to Crescent Rose, as is proper, and gives me snacks and everything." She narrowed her eyes in accusation. "Unlike somebody."

"...You may go, Ms. Rose."

-o-

Sure are a lot of comings and goings up there today.

As he idly watched the hive of activity around the Atlas delegation's flagship, Jaune continued to lounge on the bench at the airdock. The next Bullhead was still on its way, giving him a lot of time to sit back and stare at the sky. This beautiful day in spring brought with it a cool breeze, and he could almost fall asleep where he laid.

The steady click-clack of boots on a tiled floor drew him out of his reverie. Looking in the direction it came from, he spied a woman older than him by a few years. Her face was familiar to him, though not in the way of personally knowing her; she resembled another white-haired girl with a cold, regal countenance. This must be a relative of Weiss.

He cocked an eyebrow as the woman passed by other benches without so much as a glance to approach the one he's on, then nodded to him in greeting whilst sitting down. He returned the gesture, and it seemed she took that as an invitation to converse, turning her body to better face him.

"Hello there. I believe you are a friend of my sister. Jaune Arc?"

Relation to Weiss, confirmed. He smiled and held out a hand for her to shake.

"That's me, yes. And you are?"

"Winter Schnee, Weiss's older sister, at your service."

They released the handshake, and Jaune returned to his languid pose. Winter regarded the attitude with disapproval, which he guessed had to do with her military-esque discipline and attire, but she chose not to comment, rather inquiring about his purpose at the airdock today.

"I have a few errands to run over in Mistraltown," he told her with a shrug. "Probably going to grab a meal down in the city, too. The Beacon cafeteria just can't compete with Vale, you know?"

A gentle chuckle, and Winter replied, "The same could be said for the food we serve aboard the airship. It is fine, do not get me wrong, and nutritious besides, yet it fails to satisfy the palate, if that makes sense."

"Preaching to the choir, Winter. I understand that too well."

"In fact," Winter paused, seeming contemplative, "I have a request, if it is not too troublesome for you."

How could he snub his friend's family? Jaune agreed to hear her out.

"By complete coincidence, I am also headed to Mistraltown for lunch. Unfortunately, I have little idea of the city layout, to say nothing of restaurants worth visiting. May I accompany you, at least for part of the way?"

"Here's a better idea. You have a navigation app, right?" Jaune scooted closer. "Lend me your scroll for a minute. I'll show you a few of my favorite places, and you can just pick what you're in the mood for."

She raised a hand to stop him. "I wish to experience Vale in all its splendor, Mr. Arc. Not bury my nose in a scroll." Fair. City's gorgeous this time of year. "I would prefer a guide."

"Well…If you don't mind a few detours then, sure, I reckon you can tag along with me. Also, no need to be formal. Call me Jaune."

-o-

The room has no windows, just four blank walls and a single lamp dangling from the ceiling to provide a dim glow that illuminated a table and a rickety chair. On that chair, a boy meditated, working through his many thoughts and worries.

A plate of cookies laid on the table, which he did not partake of.

Lie Ren bore the staredown with grace, staying zen. He said nothing, did nothing, and simply breathed.

"Mr. Ren, that is a very nice suit you are wearing." General Ironwood said at last.

Ren glanced over his clothes. "Uhhhh, thank you?"

"How did you, a drifter, afford it?"

He jolted in his seat, composure breaking at the sudden mention of his past. For what reason would a person dredge up those memories? Nothing good, he decided.

"I work." Keep it simple, and speak the truth. It's harder for them to catch him that way.

"Enough for a bespoke suit? It must have taken a good part of your savings. But," the general nodded in commiseration, "I suppose that is the price we pay to fit in with our peers."

Ren clenched his jaw, the one subtle hint of his displeasure as he found himself enraged by the general's words.

He didn't—it wasn't like that. Jaune had insisted on the outfit for the team. While Pyrrha was enthusiastic about wearing it any chance she could, Ren only donned it on rare occasions, but he nevertheless recognized the quality make, and appreciated the gesture. 'Twas a fine gift, earned by his efforts and the sacrifices he made of his own morals for the betterment of his and Nora's lives. Not at all the frivolity of a child as the man suggested it to be.

And if he had exhibited a penchant for buying finer things as of late? He, and Nora, deserved it.

The general misunderstood the silence. He saw an orphan, unfortunate and trying to belong, and believed he had an angle to work with. A wayward youth of no important background, joining what was possibly a crime syndicate? A year would not advance his station far. It took decades for a man in Lie Ren's circumstances to prove his worth in these organizations where blood ties and history so often held precedence, and become able to afford the lifestyle he pretended to flaunt. He'd be hungry. Self-interested. Pliable.

"Jaune Arc may have swayed you with certain promises. Offers you could not refuse in light of your position on his Beacon team." General Ironwood held up his hand in a placating motion. "Let me assure you that we have no intention to punish you for seeking to improve your lot." After all, James depended on the boy doing just that shortly. "We do, however, note the unique point of view you bring to the table. Atlas is generous, and we are willing to pay for actionable information on wrongdoings perpetrated by others within your vicinity." By Jaune Arc, the words went unsaid.

Through keen observation, General Ironwood noticed that the boy had leaned closer when money was mentioned. His anticipation grew.

"Is that so?" Ren drawled. "How about you put a number on 'generous'?"

The general quoted a figure. Ren sneered.

Huntsmen weren't known for their mathematical acumen, but in one area they excel, that of calculating the efficiency ratio for a bounty reward versus the associated costs. A one time payment at this level to gain the enmity of a hardened criminal mastermind, or years—decades, even—of a secured livelihood for Nora and him. It truly was no contest.

"I have absolutely no clue of anything you're talking about. I'm just a cashier at a convenience store."

-o-

A few blocks from Mistraltown, Jaune stopped by an ATM, bidding Winter to wait as he withdrew Lien from the machine. To his surprise, she expressed interest in the process, mundane as it was.

"I've never had cause to visit one. The city of Atlas pioneered the usage of credit cards, and ever since I was a child, most stores I go to prefer it," she explained.

"The neighborhood we're headed for is the exact opposite. Pretty much every store only accepts cash. Need me to lend you some?"

That got a snort of laughter out of her, followed by mortification for the uncouth act.

"E–Excuse me, that was impolite."

Jaune waved away the apology, more curious to learn what the joke was.

"It's the mental image that amuses me, you see. My father would have conniptions if he hears of a Schnee borrowing money to pay for a meal."

"Ohhhh. That's right, Weiss was a rich girl!" He stopped short at Winter's bemused expression. "What?"

"You just…forgot that the family who owned the SDC might be well off?"

Hey! Leave his poor memory alone!

"It never really gets brought up when she and I hang out," Jaune defended. "And, hell, what does that have to do with our situation now? Rich people can have times when their pockets are empty. Seriously, I'll spot you a meal if you need me to."

Winter looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

"Even knowing about my wealth, you would still make that offer? Why?"

Because then she'd owe him favors that he can cash in.

"Because it doesn't hurt to help out other people." Who will then owe said favors.

One good turn for another, such was the way of gratitude. A bowl of ramen for someone today was a juicy steak for yourself tomorrow.

A Yakuza always takes the long view when dinner's on the line.

-o-

The room has no windows, just four blank walls and a single lamp dangling from the ceiling to provide a dim glow that illuminated a table and a rickety chair. On that chair, a girl kicked back to balance on the seat's two rear legs, one arm draped over the backrest, chewing bubblegum.

A plate of cookies laid on the table, missing pieces here and there, and she wondered if they'd let her borrow some tupperware to bring the snacks down to Beacon. Her sister would love these.

A closer look revealed a smudge of chocolate at the corner of General Ironwood's mouth, and cookie crumbs peppering his shirt front.

"Yo." Yang Xiao-Long performed a mocking salute.

"I would not act so nonchalant, were I you, Ms. Xiao-Long. Our sources indicate that you've served as an accomplice to a violent criminal in numerous instances of misdeeds, one who has entered Beacon Academy on false pretense…"

A certain face jumped to the top of her mind.

"...caused property damage to the city of Vale…"

The image solidified.

"...consorted with terrorists…"

Yeeeep.

"... and destabilized international relations."

That clinched it.

"I am talking about, of course…"

Blake Belladonna.

"Jaune Arc."

Yang blinked. "Wut?"

Were they not discussing her teammate, the former White Fang member that pretended to be a human while applying to the Academy, committed acts of terrorism in the past, recently blew up the docks, then later exposed to the Kingdoms the issue of Atlas losing an experimental mass-killing machine to people who tried to deploy it on Vale?

"Do not play coy. You were present when he brought two individuals suspected of gang affiliations onto campus. Credible reports put you and him at a nightclub last summer, shortly before it was destroyed. Just last week, people that our analyses claimed bear a fifty four percent match to Yang Xiao-Long and Jaune Arc were observed conversing with White Fang cell leader Adam Taurus. Furthermore, my students cited the two of you as the primary culprits for numerous unprovoked attacks toward their persons. And toward Haven and Shade students." He added the latter two as afterthoughts.

After hearing the full list, Yang started to wonder if she possessed normal friends.

Blake and Jaune counted as the worst of the lot. Ruby's right out, the nut that she was. Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora were all involved in Jaune's thing, and they're corrupting Weiss in the process.

May. The token normal friend in her circles was May Zedong. Except, she's the same type as Jaune, a sneaky schemer.

She needed to find better company, Yang concluded.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Yang shifted on the seat, uncrossing and crossing her legs resting on the table. With a bright grin, she shrugged her shoulders.

"You know what I didn't hear during that whole spiel? An actual charge." Ha! She caught that flinch. Yang pressed the point, "It's always about how I'm in the vicinity, or that 'somebody' is saying crap. Fifty-four percent? What, did your people flip a coin and call it research?"

Puh-lease. This wasn't her first rodeo with law enforcement. It's obvious they had a bone to pick with Jaune, and just as obvious that they have yet to uncover something concrete on him. Basic 101 for these guys was to pretend they held more information than they did in reality, all to turn her into a tattletale who would out Jaune's…'crimes' is a strong word, let's call it 'shenanigans'. In any case, she can play with the best of them (and also had her own misbehaviors to hide, of which Jaune had better go up to bat for her on his turn in the hot seat).

Time to lay on the Xiao-Long charm!

…Just, without the balls-grab this time.

-o-

At an intersection all too familiar to Jaune, being the site of a zombie apocalypse last Halloween (and, more terrifyingly, where he first became acquainted with a certain pigtailed girl), Jaune and Winter encountered a police officer walking his beat. For a reason he cannot begin to guess at, Winter tensed up as the two parties drew nearer, alternating her gaze between Jaune and the officer. It came to a head as the two men locked eyes.

The officer tipped his cap, and Jaune acknowledged him with a sharp nod. They passed on their way without a second glance.

Five steps later, Jaune discovered an empty space where his companion should be, and he turned around. The woman stood a small distance apart, sporting a flummoxed look as she stared at him.

"Are you alright, Winter?"

"Yes, I—" She cleared her throat. "I was simply expecting a different outcome with the policeman."

Jaune replayed the experience, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"He seemed friendly to me. What's the problem?"

"Oh, you know." Her gaze darted to the side. "Him stopping you. A fight. Bullets flying. Things of that nature."

He cracked up with laughter. "What do you take Vale for, complete anarchy? No, Winter," he rolled his eyes, "you're not going to see me duking it out with the police department because we happened to meet."

Those kooky Atlesiens. He wondered what other misconceptions they harbored about Vale.

"To reiterate, you have no animosity with the law?" Winter asked.

"Why would I?" The majority of them were receiving payments on the sly from Uncle Hei, by last count. "I knew that guy, even. He's new to the force. Started maybe four months back? I bought him a round when he got the job."

"...Huh."

A confused Winter resumed walking alongside Jaune as they journeyed down the Mistraltown street.

-o-

The room has no windows, just four blank walls and a single lamp dangling from the ceiling to provide a dim glow that illuminated a table and a rickety chair. The seat was vacant, with a girl dancing around the room, happily humming the accompanying score.

A plate of cookies laid on the table, half-gone. She had devoured it in her hunger, with a mind to finish the rest in short order.

The door opened, and for a brief moment the hallway lights framed a broad-shouldered man, whom one might recognize as General James Ironwood of Atlas, before he stepped inside, and kicked the door shut in his panic to prevent the girl from racing out of the room. Purposeful strides carried him to one side of the table, and after he directed the other person into the chair opposite—Bam!—he slammed his bionic fist against the surface, leaving a fourth dent next to the other three.

Nora Valkyrie looked at him in blank incomprehension for a minute. Soon, however, understanding dawned and—Blam!—she landed her own blow on the abused furniture piece in mimicry of the general, thinking it a game.

It was General Ironwood's turn to stare, the man at a loss on the meaning of her action. After a while, he shook his head and, to regain the flow of the situation, defaulted to standard protocol.

"Do you know why you have been brought here?"

"Nope! Tell me!"

Why was she so chipper? He spent a lot of money designing this place with the purpose of disturbing the psyche, and it affected her not one whit. The general filed a mental note to bring it up with the architect. The room must contain a flaw that they missed.

"We believe your leader is not who he claims to be." Now, to weave in a few subtle lies. "He has misled you, perhaps even lured you into all manners of mischief without apprising you of the consequences. You owe such a man nothing. Should you inform us on his wrongdoings, it would be a service not only to—"

"You just want me to tell you the bad things that Jaune did?"

A cheer almost burst forth from both the general and his subordinates. This was the first sign of cooperation they received, putting this kid far and above the previous oddballs. At last, they were getting somewhere.

"Yes, that is precisely it! Are you willing to help us?"

"I mean, if this is that important…"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Okay!" Nora beamed. "Pay me."

"Done," General Ironwood agreed with a split second of thought, signaling for one of his people to facilitate an electronic transfer. Nora supplied them with her account, and waited.

A ding confirmed the completion of the payment and, with bated breath, the general leaned across the table, eager to hear the valuable, nay, vital details about Jaune Arc.

Nora took in a deep breath, overcome by the gravity of what she would reveal. With heavy resolve, she spoke.

"Jaune, dramatic pause, tosses out his cherry tomatoes instead of eating them!"

The smile slid off the man's face. Perplexed, he tried to parse the information.

"And that's…bad?"

A gasp. "Uh, hel-lo, it stunts your growth when you don't eat your veggies. Everybody knows that."

General Ironwood facepalmed. Elsewhere, his team executed a few adjustments to the behavioral model they've built of Nora Valkyrie. The word 'idiot' featured prominently in the summary.

"We're going to need something more significant than that. Several degrees more."

He almost dismissed the girl then and there for that gormless expression of hers, but stopped as she brightened up.

"Ahhhhh, I get it now. You shoulda said so." She held out an open palm. "Pay me."

As a grumbling general approved another transfer, Nora did her best to stifle a giggle. She really hoped that if they were repeating this same stunt with Ren, he would remember the lesson Boss Jaune taught on what to do about people looking for dirt against him.

Take the bribe. Tell a lie. Split it afterward.

-o-

The deeper they went into Xiong territory, the safer Jaune felt. It's instinctive by this point. Nobody dared to challenge him. He can act with impunity. People bowed to him as he strode past shops and homes.

"I can't help but notice that the people around us are keeping their distance. Is there any reason why they would be scared of you?" Winter asked with an odd gleam in her eyes. And…is that a recording device in her hand? Nah, couldn't be.

"They're not scared, per se. Respectful, I would call it. I'm somewhat of a famous name in this area."

That dubious look of hers said Winter doubted his claim.

"I'm serious! My Family did a lot of work to make Mistraltown what it is today, and I'm doing my part in that effort. They know it, they appreciate it, but believe me, when you have power and influence, people are going to treat you differently."

Winter sucked in a sharp breath.

"Doesn't matter that you try to be the friendliest person whenever you're out and about, they're worried of saying the wrong thing that would cause you to bring ruin upon them. Because you can, and deep in the back of their mind, they can't shake the possibility that you someday would. It has no connection to anything you've personally done." Or so he often rationalized it. This subject tended to hit a sore point. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Yes," answered Winter instantly, voice thick with emotions he cannot place. She was not looking in his direction, instead tilting her head towards the sky, eyes closed. "Yes, you are making perfect sense."

"Right, so don't mind it. This is the normal way of things around here."

"It's Jaaaaune!"

Jaune and Winter looked at each other, then turned to where the squeaky voice originated. A child was pointing straight at him from her spot beside her mother waiting in line for a lunch stand. Nearby, a boy older than her by a few years poked his head out of a shop owned by his family, face lighting up when he spotted the pair. Along the road, similar scenes repeated with the local kids popping out of the background, attention trained on Jaune.

He waved. It triggered a stampede.

"Jaune!"

"Let's play tag!"

"Dude, I'm stuck on this level. Help me hunt the stupid thing!"

"Try this crepe, it's mom's new recipe–"

"Hey, Jaune—"

"Jaune—"

They tried to pull him in ten different directions, clamoring for him to hear stories of their recent days or telling him what they wanted to play. Used to it, he spread out his arms to let the smaller kids swing from them, a few others climbing on his shoulders. More arrived with every passing second, crowding Jaune until he lost his balance, and they dogpiled him. One child immediately planted a leg on his back, declaring himself the hero who slayed the great and terrible Jaune Arc.

Attempting to crawl out from the bottom of the heap, he came face-to-boots with Winter. She crouched down to meet his gaze, amused at his predicament.

"And is this the normal way of things around here, too?"

"Heh. Yeah. These kids are fearless. Want to join our game of tag?"

-o-

The room has no windows, just four blank walls and a single lamp dangling from the ceiling to provide a dim glow that illuminated a table and a rickety chair. On that chair, a girl was gripped in the throes of a panic attack, eyes darting to the corners in search of an escape.

A plate of cookies laid on the table. She suspected it of poison.

"Get down!" he barked.

The brusque manners should be forgiven, for the man was near his limit after a schoolgirl scammed him of the funds set aside for this off-the-books operation. Pressing charges to recover the money was not in the cards, either, since technically speaking she had held up her end of the bargain despite giving them nothing of worth, and also judicially speaking he had been committing a slew of crimes at the time.

His blood pressure shot past another warning threshold as Blake refused to heed the order, and chose rather to climb higher. He considered whether it would affect his reputation if he were to crawl under the table and break down crying. Beacon was too damn odd a place. His students never caused him this much trouble.

Heaving a long, suffering sigh, he proceeded with the interview whilst pretending naught was amiss. If he believed it hard enough, perhaps it would come true.

"Ozpin has apprised me of your situation, Ms. Belladonna. We are not looking to arrest you."

Silence, then a voice drifted down. "You're not?"

"Other, more immediate threats concern us for the moment. That's not to say you are in the clear. It is still in your best interest to cooperate." An implicit threat. Do as we say, forget your ties of loyalty, and you'll get off scot-free. Otherwise? We might revisit the matter.

He did so love to possess leverage in cases like these. It made life easier.

Jabbing a finger at the cat hanging in there, the general shouted, "Tell us everything about Jaune Arc!"

"...Who?"

"Jaune Arc!"

"..."

"The leader of Team JNPR? Right across from your dorm room?"

"..."

"He spends time with your teammates!"

"I don't spend time with my teammates."

"You truly do not recall him?" A note of uncertainty had crept into his voice.

"Not particularly. Sorry."

At the sight of the crestfallen General Ironwood, Blake hid a smirk behind a placid façade.

Hehehe. Like she'd tell the truth to the damn Atlas military. Helps that they hinted Ozpin had her corner. And that hardly anyone can say they ever saw her talk to Jaune.

-o-

"Oh, my. This is phenomenal!" Winter gushed, etiquette forgotten and speaking through a mouth full of sushi.

Despite having no part in preparing the meal, Jaune was pleased by the compliment. "Like I said, best spot for sushi in Vale." Then, self-consciously, "barring the fancy restaurants that I've never been inside."

Winter swallowed the morsel. "You chose well. This store outdid four of those restaurants that I can name. Granted, a few dishes I am familiar with are missing, but I put that down to availability. Atlas enjoys a variety of rare fish species you would be hard-pressed to find this far south." She plucked another piece with her chopsticks, and popped it in her mouth. The look of delight was as far as can be from her normal stern bearing.

"Are they not exported to other Kingdoms?"

"They are, though it's prohibitively expensive, so I doubt common eateries will offer it on their menu."

Tasty food that he won't get the chance to eat? Boo!

Winter regarded his wistful mien, and gave an indulgent sigh. "I'll show you a place in Vale that serves them one of these days. My treat."

Jaune cheered up at once. Yet again, dealing in favors has improved his lot!

Life's good for a Yakuza.

-o-

The room has no windows, just four blank walls and a single lamp dangling from the ceiling to provide a dim glow that illuminated a table and a rickety chair. On that chair, a girl sitting prim and proper, as a lady from the premier family of Atlas should.

A plate of cookies laid on the table. She took one, and only one, to savor.

The door opened, and for a brief moment the hallway lights framed a broad-shouldered man, whom one might recognize as General James Ironwood of Atlas, before he stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. Purposeful strides carried him to the other side of the table, whereupon—clack!—he placed both hands on the surface, then sat down in another chair in a calm and courteous fashion. The table nevertheless shook on its wobbly legs.

"Good morning, sir," Weiss chirped.

"Good morning, Ms. Schnee. It is good to see you again."

The haggard look of the man prompted her to ask of his troubles. It mirrored her own. Jaune Arc, Jaune Arc, Jaune Arc, the criminal was a headache and a half for decent people everywhere.

"So, you see, I would appreciate any, any, evidence you can submit on the boy. I need a credible reason, just one, to bypass Headmaster Ozpin and officially launch an investigation into Arc's dealings. With proper resources allocated to the issue, I am certain we will make progress. You are a woman of good character, Winter has sang your praises—"

Weiss preened.

"—and you surely find the situation abhorrent. Help me." He stretched out a hand. "Help me arrest Arc, and strike a blow against his backers."

She froze stock-still. "His backers?"

A vicious grin. "Yes, he's clearly a patsy, a midlevel thug assigned with the task of gaining a foothold in the Academy for the criminal underworld. I suspect he is selling information on the students or priming them for recruitment by organizations such as the gangs and the White Fang."

Weiss wilted in her seat, thoughts of divulging the insider view she has acquired of Arc's operation well and truly gone.

Oh, general, he is far worse than you know.

General Ironwood was underestimating that beast, whose ambition would not be sated until he owned the Academy itself. This was a monster that, within five minutes of meeting Weiss, plotted an eventual takeover of the SDC.

Say she were to turn on Arc. What comes after? The general would consider the threat subdued, and return to Atlas at the end of the semester. As for Weiss, she would remain in Beacon, bereft of protection at the seat of power for that beast and surrounded by who knows how many hidden agents he has placed among the students and staff. What the brute intended upon her person the moment he discovered her betrayal—and he will find out, she was sure—Weiss shivered as she imagined the scene.

Better to lie, to deflect. Inspiration struck like a bolt from the blue.

Yes, that's the way. Weiss Schnee shall play both sides. Let Atlas reach the correct conclusion through the testimonies of other, less intelligent fools who will earn the wrath of Arc. Then—her lips curled in an ̶e̶v̶i̶l̶ ̶s̶m̶i̶r̶k̶ pretty smile—she'd swoop in once he was ensconced in prison to claim his empire for herself. Under his name and blessing, of course.

After all, she had dedicated months to subverting Arc's operation. Without interference, it would have fallen into her hands by the end of their time in Beacon, no doubt.

Her property. Her achievement. She has come too far to throw it away.

"I'm afraid I must disappoint you, general. My interactions with Jaune Arc consisted of him soliciting me for business advice on his convenience store, which I gave in good faith. Whatever he has done with it afterward, I cannot comment on. My apologies, sir." She bowed her head to hide her true feelings.

Hope drained out of General Ironwood, and he slumped in the chair, head falling into his hands.

"That…that is alright, Ms. Schnee. I simply checked for the sake of thoroughness. None of us thought with any seriousness that you were involved in this mess."

-o-

Jaune kicked open the door to the ramen shop, and entered with a swagger.

"Old maaaaaan! You got the money?"

The ramen cook came around the counter, ladle pointed at Jaune like a weapon. "Why do you always make it sound so skeptical? When have I missed a month?" He pulled an envelope from his pocket, slapping it into Jaune's hand. "There! Payment in full, down to the last Lien, you greedy leech. Now sit down and order a bowl!"

"Oooh," Jaune winced, " sorry, old man, but I already ate lunch."

The cook clutched at his heart. "You what?"

"My bad."

"His bad, he says. His bad to stuff his face before coming into my store." He shook the ladle at Jaune. "Are you tired of ramen or something? Pheh!"

For the next five minutes, the two caught up with each other under the guise of the old man tutting and grousing. A promise to return on an empty stomach within a few days earned Jaune a stay of execution, and a glimpse of Winter waiting at the door got the cook to give him two bottles of tea as a freebie. Drinks in one hand, money in the other, Jaune bade him farewell as he exited the shop.

He walked into an angry Winter Schnee, the woman ready to draw her blade.

"You are bold, Jaune Arc. Extortion in broad daylight? And to think, I was taken in by your lies."

Maybe committing crimes in front of a witness was a bad idea. Who knew?

"Calling it extortion is a bit harsh."

Outraged, Winter adopted a combat stance. "What else would you call it, then? Involuntary borrowing? Admit it, Arc, you're a crim—"

"Investment," Jaune blurted out the first plausible thing that came to him, succeeding to bring her up short.

"Huh?"

"That's right, investment!" His mind ran a mile a minute as he cobbled together an excuse. "You know how people buy stocks? Well, for people like me who's too small-time to deal in that stuff, corporate ownership and whatnot, we go for these places instead. They can do business because of my Family, and we get money each month. It's a win-win."

The air of hostility surrounding Winter lessened a touch. "You mean, this arrangement is aboveboard? As in, he has a contract that he has to honor?"

"Yeeeeah. A con-tract. Very honorable. The terms are a bit informal, but hey, what can you expect from people of my level? We're not lawyers. A handshake deal is sufficient."

"And…that holds weight for you?" Winter asked with no small measure of incredulity.

"As much as if it were written on paper." On an unrelated note, illegal contracts were void by definition. "I trust them." Because nobody's stupid enough to cross the Xiong. "Is that not how it works in Atlas?"

Astounded, she shook her head. "No, it is not at all like that there." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Not since my grandfather's time, at least."

"Weird. I prefer my way."

Winter did not reply, seeming distracted by her thoughts.

-o-

A replenished plate of cookies laid on the table. She left it untouched, too reserved to indulge in one.

"Ms. Nikos, thank you for coming."

"Oh, it is no problem at all, General." The perfunctory response slipped out on instinct, but her face registered puzzlement. She sensed the incongruity in his greeting, having been escorted onto the ship by stony-faced soldiers. "That said, why am I—"

"I will be asking the questions," he declared in a firm voice. Cutting off someone as they try to speak helped to establish the pace and tone of the conversation. He had, in essence, asserted that he was the dominant side between the two parties. Heavy-handed, but a crucial move when dealing with the person in front of him. Her strength warranted it. "You understand that the military presence of my Kingdom in Vale is to provide security during the Vytal Festival, correct?"

Her smile grew wider. "Of course I do, I was listening to Professor Ozpin's speech when he mentioned something to that effect. We appreciate your work, sir."

"You agree with the necessity of my task, then? That what I do is for the benefit of everyone?"

"Yes!" she said, guileless.

Tension bled out of the room. Behind the hidden glass that made up one of the walls, the squad of soldiers and analysts he had commandeered for this whole operation breathed sighs of relief. None doubted Pyrrha's honest and open attitude. She truly was being genuine.

"I am glad for that. You see, we have noted a few concerning discrepancies about your partner, and your cooperation is needed to…clarify the…issue…"

Nothing about Pyrrha Nikos had changed. In fact, she held her body with absolute stillness, eyes closed and serenely smiling.

The overhead lamp moved. The ship moved.

It had been a mere tremor, localized to the immediate area of the vessel, and yet it froze the general and his people in their tracks. They knew well what had occurred. After the obliteration of their Atlas Knight-200 regiment, the threat analysis of Pyrrha Nikos painted a bleak picture of her capabilities.

That did not mean she was unstoppable. There existed limits to her power, and they've theorized her weaknesses, documenting the telltale warning signs of her Semblance activation so as to allow them precious seconds for mustering a response. But were that the case, then why did the walls, ceiling, and floor not shine with a black glow?

Whatever she affected had taken place beneath the surface, without their notice.

Nervous, General Ironwood licked his dry lips, and attempted to recover the initiative.

"The destruction of Atlas property is a punishable offense."

"No one will discover a thing," was her blithe answer.

"We know of your Semblance, magnetic manipulation, and I have top men in my employ whose job is to trace the method of sabotage," a despairing General Ironwood pointed out.

The smile deepened. "You misunderstand. No one will discover a thing, because no one will be left. The ship flies, general. I can make it not."

Those analysts of his have severely lowballed Nikos's drive to defend Jaune Arc. Granted, in the absence of any identifiable cause for such fervent dedication, he had considered their report accurate before this moment.

The general would have given up his other arm for someone so loyal, their worth outweighing the lost limb by magnitudes. What had possessed him to bring a person like that on his airship floating in the damn sky!? Why did he think it a good idea, when half his body was made of metal!?

To show that Atlas would not be cowed. To show that Atlas was not afraid of one little girl. To prove they still retained control, was still strong!

Rallying, General Ironwood forced his gaze up from the floor where it had fallen in fear, meeting those chilly, green eyes to say—to say—

"Have a wonderful day, Ms. Nikos."

"You too, sir," Pyrrha said in a friendly tone of voice. She then turned to the side, bringing up a hand to wave at the unseen observers. "And also, everyone behind that wall, thank you for your hard work!"

She had known of them this whole time. They were, after all, wearing metal gear.

-o-

The gangmember spat vile curses as he charged at Winter.

As previous, she forwent her saber and waited for her opponent to enter grabbing range. Then, it was a simple affair to seize him by the wrist, flipping him over her head to slam the artless man against the asphalt, where he joined his brethren in unconsciousness. That done, she set to rescuing the young man who accompanied her from…well, she didn't know what. He seemed to have attacked first, but his victims might have had bad intentions at the time? Then they pulled out arms, and called for reinforcements? Was this a gang war now? Jaune Arc had a lot of explaining to do.

Thoughts of extracting answers flew out of her head when she saw him dabbing on a pile of defeated bodies.

To her shame, she broke down laughing at the silly scene. Humor helped Winter to center herself again.

Whatever Jaune Arc was, it included this. The preliminary report did not do him justice. Were he the monstrous psychopath as rumors described, she would have concluded her investigation already. For the him that stood in front of her, she can hear his reasons first.

Approaching, she called out, "And what, may I ask, caused you to start a war in the middle of the city street?"

Jaune spun towards her, beaming a carefree grin.

"Didn't you see what they did, vandalizing the storefront like that? In my neighborhood? No way I'll let that slide!"

"Your neighborhood?" Despite herself, Winter felt let down by his declaration, and the shadows of doubt crept back in. The boy spoke words typical of a common thug or gangster.

"Yeah? Look, from the outside, you probably just see a guy collecting Lien from people who owed him money, and think that's the end of the relationship. To us, that doesn't cover it. We have to take care of this place. It means something more than a cash cow that we milk to death."

There lies her conundrum, why this day has not ended hours ago. Whenever he says such lines in so earnest a way, she could not help but pause. He reminded her of another person.

"These people are generous (in their tributes), and respectful (to my gang). Okay, sure, maybe I'm not as close to them as I should be. My circumstances make that difficult, as there's always going to be a wall between us. Still, it's my responsibility to protect them, and I'm not shirking that duty."

"That…That is quite an admirable stance to take." Why do her eyes glisten? Winter Schnee, daughter of the world's richest and most hated man, recalled memories of a better time. Back when her grandfather walked upon Remnant, and the SDC was a different place. Something like what she might find here. "I think I can understand you. Too well, perhaps."

"Oh, crap. You're crying."

-o-

The room has no windows, just four blank walls and a single lamp dangling from the ceiling to provide a dim glow that illuminated a table and a rickety chair. On that chair, a girl huddled into a little ball, pulling her long rabbit ears down to hide the scary world outside from her sight.

A plate laid on the table, with one surviving cookie left amidst the crumbs. The analysts and soldiers were in the middle of devouring the snacks when they remembered that they had nabbed a last interviewee.

General and rabbitgirl both stared at the wreckage. Then, Velvet Scarlatina burst into tears.

"I-I'm going to die-ie-iiiiie!"

The general was at a loss. He had never broken a suspect so fast, and to this degree. What was this sensation in his chest, clenching his heart? Could it be…guilt?

Seeking to overcome the strange, unwanted feeling, he mustered his resolve. Then, he activated his Semblance, Mettle, when mere experience and discipline proved insufficient. His face smoothed out, voice leveling to an even tone.

"This begins the interview of Velvet Scarlatina, Beacon student. You were observed visiting the place of interest going by the name 'Juniper Berries' multiple times per week. On each occasion, you arrive at an unusually early hour carrying an unidentified package, soon seen leaving with a white envelope clutched in your hands. Clearly, you play an integral part in their operations. Their true operations if my suspicions are correct." He eased off his Semblance, allowing his emotions to rise to the fore as he leaned down and glared into her eyes. "Do you deny this?"

"I–I—" Her head turned every which way, searching for help. None came. "I just bake!"

"Bake?" General Ironwood snarled. "Is that a code? You cook the books? Or do you make the products?"

"Yes?" she squeaked. "To the la–last one?"

"Ah-ha! We have your confession. Take her away for advanced interrogations," he ordered the soldiers in the observation booth.

"B-b-but baking cookies isn't illegal!"

General Ironwood paused. The soldiers marching into the room paused. The analysts arguing over what the movements of those rabbit ears could possibly mean in terms of body language paused.

…Cookies?

Velvet sniffled, then pointed to the plate on the table, and the single example there.

"Your men b-bought those from me. That's what I deliver every morning."

"Oh." What else can the general say to that? Silent, awkward seconds passed within the windowless room. "I've tried some. They are very good."

Forgetting her fear for a brief moment, Velvet beamed at the compliment.

"Thank you!"

-o-

Knock, knock.

Weiss opened her dorm room door to a pleasant surprise.

"Winter!"

"Hello, Weiss. Is now a bad time?"

"Oh, never. Would you like to—" She glanced at the pig sty that was Team RWBY's home, and her smile turned wooden. "—come in?"

Please, no. Please, no. Please, no.

"That's quite alright, Weiss."

What sweet relief!

"I simply wanted a chance to check in on your well-being, considering your experience earlier today."

Touched by her concern, Weiss was quick to reassure her sister. "As you can see, it was no trouble for me at all. I understand completely the necessity of it." Ousting Arc? Worth it, and more.

"Nevertheless, I apologize for the lack of forewarning."

"Please, Winter, I have no doubts your reasons for that are sound." Weiss fidgeted. "I-If it is not a secret, may I know what will happen now?"

"Well, I should not tell you, but…" Winter inspected the hallway, then leaned closer. "You'll be glad to hear that while you were being interviewed, I performed some sleuthing of my own, and I have provided the General with a comprehensive report on the truth of Jaune Arc."

Weiss practically vibrated in place. This was it!

"Your friend is a fine, upstanding youth. A touch rough around the edges, I'll admit, but he has demonstrated to me that at his core, he embodies the ideals of a gentleman."

What.

"And to think, we had this…this ridiculous notion that he was some sort of infiltrator and gang lieutenant, set to corrupt Beacon students! Can you imagine?" Winter pinched the bridge of her nose, chuckling.

What.

"My account, along with the testimonies of his friends, notably yourself, has put that silliness to rest. It became clear that there was no possible reason to allocate funds for a full investigation. Oh my, when I think of the Lien we would have wasted chasing red herrings…"

What.

"Anyway, I hope that you and he continue to get along. In fact, would you like to join us for dinner next weekend? We're having sushi." When she received nothing but silence, Winter continued. "Well, do consider it and let me know what you decide. That's all I wanted to say, thanks for taking time out of your schedule for this, Weiss. Bye now!"

As Winter walked away, Weiss's brain finished processing the new information, and she was left sputtering.

"B-but…Arc…prison…his empire…mine…"

Weiss took a deep breath.

And screamed.

"What the actual fu—"

Author's Notes: Both sisters, prone to delusions.

In other news, the next Yakuza game is starring Goro Majima, the Mad Dog of Shimano, and is titled 'Like a Dragon: Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii'.
…I think the development team might have a few screws loose themselves, and I love it. The trailer is hilarious, stupid, and epic, all in one.