Chapter 26: A Certain Otherworld Huntsman: Firing_the_Teacher

The office building was no fancy thing.

Were it an institution, some pillar of the city, the architect might have built it to look like a temple rather than a cookie cutter high rise. Had it held any sort of wealth or influence, a corporate headquarter let's say, they would have put actual thought into its design beyond 'big and blocky #7,507.' Since it was neither, the building just seemed…sad. A place people went to because they had to.

Someone ambitious had shot for grander with the interior lobby. Four pillars to add a pretension of class. A staircase at the back, with an upper landing that granted a view of the lobby before it led to the higher floors. A long receptionist counter, granite surface, stretching across the center of the lobby. Above that, a screen displaying stock ticker symbols belonging to different exchanges to lend the impression that people here were engaged in Very Important Business affecting the world economy.

Strange, seeing as the most lucrative firm on the lease was involved in cookware—their rice cooker models have garnered rave reviews in the local market. The pillars, they maintained the same square, utilitarian shape of the building, and so just appeared boring and unnecessary. As for the staircase, fitting in the landing despite the lacking height of the ceiling meant that it was sort of squat, detracting from the view a person could get there. The counter looked like they stole it from a better office, and was a little too big for the room. It's all grand, just lacking.

The entrance doors, however, were a different story. It's what made the office high rise stand out from its neighbors. Gilded in gold, the narrative relief running along the frame spun a charming, if simple, tale about hard work, loyalty, and the eventual payoff that came with these virtues. The glass panes forming the doors were of the highest craftsmanship, no impurities or errant flaws to mar its surface. Flick the glass, and one would hear a melodious *ting!* that sounded just lovely to the ear. The touchless, state-of-the-art auto opener saw regular maintenance, and managed to always activate at that sweet spot for those approaching, neither too early nor too late, the doors sliding apart with the barest of whisper. Someone had pulled out all the stops for this one part of the building. Quite inspired, really, since it was the first thing everyone would see walking in, and thus would remember, so its presence transformed the impression given off by the structure, uplifting the entirety.

The black van smashed through those doors without caring a whit for any of that.

Careening at breakneck speed over the broken glass, the vehicle—half-wrecked, roof torn off by an impatient esper eager to be at the fray, computer parts sputtering from the resulting water damage—pulverized the receptionist counter and almost flattened the Hound Dog squad stationed behind the fixture. Only their quick reflexes honed from dozens of skirmishes throughout the years had saved their lives. They dove aside in the nick of time.

The car, which Hound Dog recognized was one of theirs, continued its journey, now swerving off-course without a semblance of control as if no driver was at the wheel. Debris caught by the left front wheel locked up the mechanisms for a second before they were chewed apart, and that induced enough resistance to force the van into a sharp turn. Its direction shifted, and it bled off a bit of speed, but at the critical point the van still had too much momentum going one way and it began to tip. For a long, agonizing moment, it balanced on two wheels, tracing an elegant arc across the floor, watched by the Hound Dog squads around the lobby, staircase, and side rooms.

Despite themselves, many among these hardened agents cringed or turned their heads. They saw the wall.

Then they didn't, because with a loud boom it became a hole when the van crashed through, metal screaming as the front of the car—armored for war, their supplier had advertised!—crumbled under the impact. The damage continued on along its length, doors buckling, the engine crushing the front seats. Bits and pieces were sent flying in every direction, and a cloud of dust kicked up.

The whole thing caught fire.

As a group, Hound Dog stared at the crackling orange glow. It took a while before one of them found his tongue, voicing aloud what they were all thinking.

"Is…seriously, did they just die? Was that it?"

The boss warned them to stop anybody who tried to get in, but they hadn't even done anything. The idiot barged in just to get themselves killed!

"I wouldn't say that."

Blank-faced helmets snapped around towards the voice, seeing a young man walk in from the rain.

In one hand, he held an umbrella, opened up with the shaft resting on a shoulder. The other rubbed the back of his neck to suggest a mild bashfulness at the number of eyes that were on him. On his hip hung a sword, of all things, like he raided a museum before coming here. The young man carried an easy demeanor to contrast the careful way his gaze scanned the room, and he displayed the friendliest of smiles.

"Hey, how are ya?" He waved to the assembled troops. "Sorry about the van. Name's Jaune Arc, I'm here for Last Order. I don't suppose I could convince you guys to step aside?"

Every member of Hound Dog present responded by raising their weapons. Same model submachine guns trained on the intruder, fingers on the triggers. Laser dots crisscrossed the young man's form.

"...Guess not."

They expected him to cry, beg, or even piss himself. It's the outcome they tend to see in a situation like now. Espers high on their power were cocky until they realized a hundred lead rounds would kill them dead.

Far from cowed, this one gave a rueful shake of his head. His smile then faded to something wan, a touch colder and resigned. The men and women in the lobby knew that look. They wore it often enough in the course of their work, when it's nothing personal. When it's just the game of which side gets to leave the room alive.

A ceiling light flickered overhead. It served as the starting signal.

Bullets tore apart the umbrella, the only object left where Jaune once stood. [Third Arm] pulled him along the floor, and on release he slid the remaining distance to a pillar, taking cover behind it. There, he waited, sword drawn and prepared to greet all comers.

They…didn't show up.

"What the hey?"

Jaune peeked out, and pulled back his head as bullets smashed into the pillar. The brief glimpse told him enough.

Hound Dog used tactics different to what he knew. Less Huntsman and more militia, but even then, there was something weird about it. They didn't mount a charge, they repositioned. Two squads were moving up, with both of them doing a maneuver where a pair would advance for a short stretch before the next pair went, circling wide to catch him on either side. From the look of it, their guns would fire on him from outside sword range.

He could sort of grasp what they were trying for. Maybe. It's some kind of tactic designed specifically for fighting inside a city.

Wild. Fascinating.

Also, not that effective. He wasn't about to stay in place to let it play out.

Jaune exploded out of cover, hiding behind his shield to block the first few shots. Sudden use of a phantom limb yanked him aside from the line of fire, and by the time his opponents readjusted their aim he had closed the distance with a Hound Dog squad. The edge of his shield smashed against a face visor. The man went down.

Whipping around, his sword scythed a line across the air, slicing through a gun. Parted the body armor. Bit into flesh. Exited right out the other side.

How easy it was for someone to die. The resistance just wasn't there, like paper before the reforged blade honed to a sharpness beyond his imagination. With a startled cry cut short, the woman hit the ground in two pieces. Her fellow agent fell to the same stroke. The last kept his life, losing but the fingers on a hand and taking a broken jaw from a follow-up punch with the shield. In three seconds flat, Jaune stood over a pile of bodies.

They knew the score, same as him. What they've done and why he's here. If someone was at fault, it's not him.

Not him.

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. Bullets slammed into the tiles. He was already gone.

The flash of a blade drew red at the other side of the room, and from then on it didn't stop.

A man stumbled backward as Jaune dispatched his partners. It gave him room to get his gun aimed dead on target, and without hesitation he pulled the trigger. Triumph turned to panic when the bullets ricocheted off the shield, some missing him by inches, his fright made worse as the shield loomed larger, closer. Jaune barreled into him, knocking the man to the ground. He strode by, and a casual flick of the sword behind him silenced the man for good.

A huge decorative urn housing a fern broke line of sight, offering a short second of reprieve for Jaune to slip a quick sip of Remedy. He then launched [Third Arm] to escape while Hound Dog blasted the urn apart. A subsequent use latched high onto a pillar, and took him to the air.

Soaring above, he chose his target. Boots met chest, the sharp crack of ribs snapping, and he was on solid ground. Crocea Mors speared the closest foe, followed by a spin to put Jaune on one knee, back against a wall, shield up to protect from an incoming barrage. Aura soothed the ache in his arm, letting him hold firm. The moment it relented, he was racing off again.

Hound Dog had been prepared for combat. It hardly mattered. They might know to expect strange feats and gimmicks from dealing with espers, except his trick was to survive against bullets, and with it he brought a range battle down to the level of a brawl, the place he worked best.

He tore their formation apart. His sword gutted them, while his shield was offense and defense in one. Where expedient, his body itself served as a weapon, crashing into—and through—them, their bones shattering on a human battering ram made possible by enhanced strength and durability. Never static, the near random course he took—ping-ponging back and forth, jumping off walls, changing direction mid-movement via [Third Arm]—kept them from seizing the initiative even as the gaps between their squads grew wider, thinned out by the constant onrush.

Masks of professionalism soon cracked, and the lobby devolved to a wild, messy scramble as the scattered units struggled to survive.

After his brutal defeat at the hand of Accelerator, it felt good to win.

…Although, it's not as great a feeling as he expected. Alongside it came this uncomfortable pang of pity that has been growing bigger with each dismantled defense, each push to overwhelm him, and Jaune did not understand why. He pushed it out of mind.

Three more Hound Dog squads were defeated in a blink. A few others, aware of what he was doing, formed up to present a united effort, seeking to overwhelm him with numbers. A semi-circle pressed to the wall, they covered every angle. Firing lines established a rhythm, chasing him without rest by switching off with one another.

For them, he answered by returning his sword to the shield, and summoning one of the automatic rifles stored within his Pocket. Running and gunning, he fired blind in their direction. More bullets missed than hit, but the ones that did caused enough damage to collapse their lines. They saw the sword and thought that was all he had, paying the price for it.

He tossed the rifle away. They attempted to reestablish. Another summoned rifle disabused them of the notion, and that was the last of that.

Amidst the shouting and gunfire, reinforcements arrived from the upper floors to bolster their side. Credits to them, there was only a brief pause to absorb the scene, a time in which a number of them seemed to reconsider their decision, before they joined in. Not that it helped. They adopted earlier tactics of taking cover, leading to Jaune tearing them out, root and stem, one by one. All the while, those with experience from the last couple of minutes yelled themselves hoarse at the newcomers, warnings lost in the radio chatter. Commands met countermands, ideas that might have worked never panned out due to nobody being there to put it in practice, and their numbers dwindled.

Jaune had his first inkling of how desperate their tactics can become when a bullet found the center of his chest. It got there via a route that pierced through a Hound Dog. More followed, at least four to sap his Aura with the rest blocked once his shield was in place. The squad he stood among had not fared so well, wiped out to the last by their brethren.

"The disloyalty of these guys…"

He made the ones responsible his priority. None of their allies tried to save them.

The battle shifted to the staircase, and that's when it took a decided turn, reaching a fever pitch.

For every Hound Dog that would stop and put up a last stand, Jaune saw another who would roll a grenade down the steps, uncaring of the losses they were trading in the hope for his death. As fierce the opposition may be, there were too many who instead vaulted the railings, risking a bad fall in the process of saving their hide. Those guys ran off into the night, and never looked back. The people left behind didn't blame them, merely putting their trust in the Hound Dog by their side, fighting on.

Valiance. Cowardice. Heroism from criminals stained by dirty deeds. A consuming despair all too human to contrast it. Thoughts of duty. Thoughts of one's own life.

And at the center of it all, a being invincible to their futile resistance, unstoppable by any means.

I am Leviathan.

…

…How do they do it?

He had stood where they stood. To them, he was a monster they had not a prayer of defeating. A force of nature to which there were no answers. Yet, in the greater scheme of Academy City, he wasn't so tough. Off the top of his head, he can name Accelerator, Misaka, and the angel as beings whose strength outpaced him by magnitudes. A flick of their hand could well end his life.

How, then, do they do it, with neither superpowers nor immortality, fighting in a world where gods roam the land? Scum like them had no business being so brave.

No wonder his victory tasted none too sweet.

"But I'm not going to stop."

He wasn't certain what he expected when he said it.

"Fuck you!"

"...Yeah, your buddy said the same thing." Jaune pulled back his sword, and swung.

Hound Dog troops continued to pour into the confined space, balking as they realized how close he had gotten. In all truth, they held years of experience, but not quite like him, and not quite like this. Unstable terrain, melee range, blade in hand, breakdown of order, tactics blending with instincts, throwing oneself again and again towards the gaping maw of danger, here was where a Huntsman waged his best battles. Beacon had trained him for this. Jaune could imagine that before him stood a many-headed Grimm, slow to adapt to his alien behavior and defaulting to animalistic struggle as a result. It made things simple to the point of unfair.

A glimpse of purple below signaled that Tattletale had begun to follow him up now that the path was clear. She lingered a little ways behind, content to give him room as he dealt with their opposition.

He hoped that when they regrouped, she wouldn't look at him like she did that other time.

At last, he stepped out onto the correct floor. The fighting retreat of Hound Dog resembled more a rout by then, a scant few holding their ground. They fell in quick succession, one screaming as Jaune snapped out a heavy kick to break his leg, another went over with a wet gurgle, and a third smacking into the wall unconscious. He moved past them to kick down the door, the wooden thing smashed to bits in one blow.

It was empty.

Jaune leaned back out of the threshold. Another door laid further along the corridor with noises coming from it.

"Ah. That's the one."

A glance at the stairs confirmed that Tattletale wasn't yet present to see his mistake. Rushing to the correct door, he kicked that down to reveal an occupied room.

Hound Dog in their black body armor and helmets held position on one side, between the furniture. In contrast to their colleagues that Jaune encountered, they portrayed a casual demeanor with weapons held loosely, leaning back and watching someone else do the fighting.

At a fair distance to their rear lay a slight figure on the floor, half-hidden by a desk. A hint of her hair and features had Jaune thinking of Misaka, specifically the little Misaka he spotted running in the underground mall, which might explain the girl's desire to join the search for Last Order. She wasn't moving, the virus doing who knew what to her.

Near the center stood a man in a lab coat, his face lit up in victory, tinged by surprise due to the newcomer on the scene. Kihara, Jaune presumed. Surprisingly young for what he heard was a top scientist. The jagged lines tattoo on the left side of his face wouldn't be the first thing Jaune pictured for someone spending their days bent over a microscope, either. His lab coat flapped in the wind, the room opened to the outside air by a wide window with its glass blown in, the result of a certain someone deciding to take a shortcut without bothering to bring Jaune and Tattletale along.

Through the window, Jaune could see an eerie unbroken moon, and below it the angel, still firing off at seemingly random intervals. Their lights shone on the person Jaune had come here to find, and who he focused on now. The idiot to tear the roof off of their car in the middle of a downpour.

Accelerator.

"You!" Jaune spat the word, jabbing a finger at the absolute worst teammate he ever had.

Accelerator glanced his way, and scowled. "Tch. Why are you here? I told you I could handle it."

"It's called teamwork, you troublesome—wait." Jaune looked him up and down. "What happened to you? Is this what you'd call 'handling it'?"

The other boy was covered in bruises. Blood ran down his face. He swayed in place like a drunk.

"Ye-ep," said Accelerator.

"Oh, like hell," Jaune said in reply. "They're kicking your butt!"

Which had him wondering how that was even possible. The guy's whole thing was reflecting all damage and dealing all the damage, yet here he was, beaten to hell and back. Kihara, meanwhile, sure seemed alive for what should be a bloodstain on the ground.

Tattletale poked her head into the room. "What's going on, guys?" She noticed the state of Accelerator, and whistled. "Not great, huh?"

"The stubborn fool thinks otherwise," Jaune said.

"...You have no room to talk, mister."

Before Jaune could ask what she meant by that, a new voice cut in.

"The anomalies…" Kihara said with a spark of recognition, paying far more attention than when it was just Jaune alone.

Rather annoying, that, to find out he considered somebody an enemy and they had him as an afterthought to somebody else this entire time.

The man turned fully to face them. "Imagine my surprise—"

Seizing the moment of inattention, Accelerator propelled forward, arms outstretched to rend Kihara limb from limb.

A fist slammed into the esper's face in an almost casual motion, blasting him backward. Accelerator collapsed on the ground, his face a mess of blood. It neatly demonstrated why they found him in the current condition, and Jaune started to regard the scientist with a more wary eye. What he did defied reality. A mere man had punched an invincible being, and made it hurt.

He's no simple nerd.

"Manners, Accelerator. I fucking taught you better than that."

"Were you the one responsible for his foul mouth, too?" Jaune asked.

Kihara ignored him.

Anger meter rising.

"Imagine my surprise," Kihara said as if there had been no interruption, shaking out his fist, "when I checked my email, and two faces showed up to match a couple of foreigners I saw just earlier tonight. What fortune. That information broker was worth every yen."

Well, that's not concerning at all. If the information about them had moved past the point of first-hand surveillance to reach some kind of sketchy mass bulletin service, then the number of people aware of them could skyrocket.

"And what might it be saying about us?" Tattletale asked. "Good things, I hope. Smart, quick-witted, higher intelligence than that Kihara nobody…"

Kihara snarled. "It says that you belong on my operating table! Oh the ways I will test that reactive shielding of yours." His mood took a turn, and he chuckled. "Observational data suggests its underlying principle shares many similarities with my dear lab rat's redirection, and I expect a few of my methods should draw some very nice screams."

Tattletale narrowed her eyes. "You're talking about how your fist didn't actually punch Accelerator."

Jaune looked from the boy on the ground nursing a new bruise, then to her. Pure incredulity poured off him in waves. Accelerator appeared very punched, in his opinion. Thoroughly, and far more than advised, in fact.

"It never connected." She demonstrated for his benefit—and pretty much everyone not Kihara too, since Hound Dog were all watching with interest. Holding up a palm, she made a fist with her other hand, and mimed a punch. It paused right before hitting flesh, and she slowly pulled the fist back. "That's what he did, just a lot faster and at a fraction of the distance. Accelerator reflects vectors. As in, the force of any attack that pings his shield gets redirected in the opposite direction of itself." She looked to the boy in question, grimacing. "Except there's a delay due to your calculations. If a person were to activate your shield, and reverse the direction of their attack prior to the calculations completing—"

"Then the shield would redirect the force that's heading away to send it forward at Accelerator!" Jaune finished.

Tattletale nodded. "Exactly." Catching the smug expression on Kihara, she gave a nonchalant shrug and said to Jaune, "I wouldn't be so impressed if I were you. It's only 'observational data' that any halfway mediocre researcher can get at when they study one subject for years and years." A smirk grew. "Or a couple of minutes for me."

Kihara lost his smug. It was stolen by a fox. The man glared at the girl.

Bang! "Aaargh!"

Whatever mental battle that might have broken out between them died with a whimper as a Hound Dog agent dropped to the ground, blood spurting from a reflected bullet missing the armor vest to strike flesh. He had fired on Accelerator, driven by…okay, Jaune didn't know why.

Tattletale and Kihara did, and they both sighed.

"He got the idea from my explanation that Accelerator's shield is now, somehow, down for good."

Jaune frowned. "But…that wasn't at all what you described."

"Uh-huh. Congrats, Jaune. You—at the very, very least—measure a few IQ points higher than a lemming. The same can't be said for that guy."

Kihara, meanwhile, was cursing. Unconcerned of an attack, he strode over to the fallen man, peering down at him with a contemptuous glower. "This is the help I get. Morons, the lot of them." He reared back a foot. To a one, his subordinates remained unmoving, leaving Jaune as the one to protest.

"Whoa, he's already hurt, don't—"

The foot landed, eliciting a scream as it struck the hand pressed to the wound. The scream was followed by wet, wracking coughs. Jaune stared at Kihara in horror.

"What kind of monster are you?"

A sneer greeted him. "Quiet, mutt. I'll get to you and that bitch later." Kihara waved a hand, allowing his troops to drag their injured member back to apply first aid, and refocused on Accelerator. "My first puppy requires further training." He began walking forward.

Jaune headed him off, screeching to a halt beside the other boy with weapons at the ready. Kihara didn't seem very worried.

"Are you perhaps volunteering? I want a chance to test my technique on you, if you have forgotten. Tell me, have you ever been beaten to a pulp?"

Today. A few weeks ago. Another incident shortly before that one. Every other day during the semester. Jaune mentioned none of that, because nobody needed to know his win-loss ratio.

"There's no guarantee it'd puncture my Aura," he said instead.

"Aura, is it? How unscientific. Call it a field."

"Aura." The twitch on the man's face brought Jaune too much happiness to be healthy. "You're not touching Accelerator, and you're going to let Last Order go."

A laugh. "No, and no. Are you delusional?" He studied Jaune's outfit and weapons. "Could be. Do you think you're some knight in shining armor, here to save the princess?"

(At this point, Jaune pictured Accelerator in a princess dress, and gagged. No.)

On a roll, Kihara pointed out the window. At the end of his finger was the angel beautifully aglow. "News flash, you're on the wrong side if you believe that is something to be stopped! You children may think your tragic tales make you special, but that doesn't change the fact that I am the hero of the story. That I am the one saving the city." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That brat should be glad. This is the most use she will ever have in her worthless life."

And he did so well up until that last part. Just the sheer conviction in his voice had caused Jaune to hesitate. Yet, it was an empty boast in the end.

"Blow that," Jaune said. "I know my heroes, and you're not it, Kihara." Ozpin. Pyrrha. Sundancer. Solaire. "Real ones sacrifice their own self first. They chose the option where they're who hurt the most, not anyone else. Don't compare your cowardly hide to them."

At his side, Accelerator stared at the ground with downcast eyes. Over at the door, Tattletale wore an inscrutable expression.

Kihara looked at him like he had sprouted a second head.

"You…you really believe that drivel." Open-mouthed disbelief shifted to mirth. "Haha! What? I can't believe an idiot this naive exists! Have you a clue of how the real world works?"

Tattletale called over, "Better to be him than a puppet like you! We all know you're a hired hand. A prop. None of the big stuff could be called your idea." Kihara furrowed his brows, greatly displeased. It was sweet proof of victory for Tattletale, who eagerly continued, "The Chairman was the one to set events in motion, but he's just protecting his investment so I won't say he's a hero—god knows kidnapping a girl disqualified him from that title. Still, he is the player moving the pawn named Kihara."

Silence ensued for a time, as Kihara glared at Tattletale in hate. Finally, he said, "I placed my body between the city and the strongest esper—"

"Nope!" she chirped, cutting him off. "You're doing this on an order, I said. Without the fear of Crowley, you would leave in a heartbeat." Louder, she addressed the room. "And did you see how he's trying to fit himself within the definition Jaune laid out? Hilarious!" She injected the word with utter venom.

"Experiment one: shoot him," was Kihara's reply, following the age-old adage of 'why admit a loss, when you can kill all the witnesses?'

Hound Dog obeyed instantly. As Tattletale cried out in shock, a hailstorm of bullets rained on Jaune, who hunkered down and let the shield on his arm bore the brunt of it.

He couldn't block everything, and his Aura flared with the impacts that struck his skin.

"Unimpressive," Kihara concluded as the salvo petered out. "Photonic particles aping metallic properties. Deviations from conventional laws remain within bounds of known science. Physiological responses correspond with pain, and flickers indicate finite supply. I can pick up better shielding technology from a bargain bin."

In multiple ways, ow.

Tattletale spoke in a rush. "Don't buy it, Jaune. He's worried that his punching technique won't affect you. Every card he has is developed to counter Accelerator, so he has nothing else he can use. It'd be a battle of conventional arms."

In short, Kihara was not equipped to face Jaune. As for Jaune, he might not be the best person to deal with nonsense esper magic or endbringer angels, but this, he can do something about.

Lifted by newfound confidence, he straightened up. One hand twirled Crocea Mors in a flourish, the blade reflecting the silver of moonlight.

"You want a go at me? Fine. Let's do this!"

A signal from Kihara, and every gun was aimed at him. They're nervous, though. After seeing how he survived their attack, and the communications they received of the situation below, no doubt Hound Dog had their misgivings about fighting him.

Kihara, too, seemed wary. He had a hand in his lab coat pocket, and that troubled Jaune in turn. A scientist who stood on the frontlines of a battle, he must carry with him a bag of tricks. Maybe whatever lay in there was fine-tuned solely for Accelerator, maybe it's not, but there sure were many pockets to that coat.

A scan of the foes arrayed before him, and Jaune chose his point of attack. Seizing the initiative, he launched forward!

A hand clasped on his ankle. Unyielding strength prevented him from slipping free, and all of his horizontal momentum swung downward. Jaune face-planted the floor with a mighty crash.

As the room burst into hyena guffaws—Kihara the worst of them—Jaune resisted the urge to just curl up in a little ball, knowing he'd never live this humiliation down. Instead, he twisted around, and leveled a deadpan look behind him at the culprit.

"Acceleratoooor. Care to explain?"

The other boy replied, sounding irritated, "Get it through your head already that I have this handled."

"And again, like hell you do!" He glanced at laughing Kihara. The scientist hadn't given the go-ahead for his people to open fire, but Hound Dog were waiting for it despite their show of mirth. He hissed, softly, "What is your deal? This isn't the time!"

"I have to rescue Last Order," Accelerator blurted out.

"Yeah? And that's why we're here?" Duh.

The laughter was beginning to die down, the guns becoming steadier. Jaune shifted his shield in response.

"Kihara prepared everything so that he could kill me. Forget the angel-like thing, his real reason to abduct Last Order was because of me!"

"He did it because he's a prick, so you shouldn't put the blame on your own head. Don't worry, we'll make him pay, starting right now."

Accelerator growled, frustrated. "No, you still don't get it!"

That anger kicked things off. Having had enough of his fun, or perhaps sensing danger, Kihara waved his hand. Answering it, two dozen muzzles flashed bright, and the room exploded with the sound of gunfire.

A hundred lead rounds struck, but not a single shot went through. Not for a moment did Jaune's Aura register a hit. He looked up at the reason why.

Accelerator had taken it all against his back, his ability rendering the onslaught harmless.

That said, the full brunt of the other boy's ire seemed to be directed at his ally rather than his enemies. He seized Jaune by his shirt, and pulled him up so they were eye to eye.

"I can't keep doing the same thing again," he said in a snarl. "I can't just throw it all on another person's shoulder again. My fight. My problem. My responsibility." His voice faded to a quieter note, underlaid with a desperate want. "My turn to be the hero."

And in those eyes, Jaune saw a reflection.

A boy dreamed he would save the world. Only, here nobody had taken a chance on him. And from that, his adventures never began.

With a chant, the story can change.

Dropping Crocea Mors, two automatic rifles appeared in his hands. He flung them at the exit of the room.

"Tattletale, distract them!"

She succeeded in catching one and ducked out of sight, trailed by a barrage from Hound Dog, with the other gun sliding along the tiles out the door to join her. A beat later, the barrel of a gun peeked past the threshold and returned fire, the rounds impacting the floor at their feet to send Kihara and his subordinates scurrying for cover among the furniture.

Using the reprieve, Jaune hid behind Accelerator as best he could to avoid the gunfire, then slapped a hand over the boy's face.

…It flew right back to smack his own face.

"Do you mind?" he said, rubbing his smarting cheek. "This is necessary." He waited to see a grudging nod before he gave another attempt at making contact, gentler to avoid a repeat. That done, he explained quickly, "You have a point. I could fight your battles, except that doesn't solve the problem in the long run, because for certain reasons I won't be around much longer. You're going to keep being in danger so long as the method to defeat you is still out there. Let's give fixing that a shot. Agreed?"

"The fuck? How would you—no, fine." Accelerator directed a glance at the door, where Tattletale was. "I can guess what that involves."

"And?"

Accelerator hid his nervousness, but Jaune spotted a clench to his jaw. What he had offered bore the hallmarks of an experiment, an operation. Changes to the body for the sake of inducing greater power. For someone like Accelerator, it wasn't a good thing.

"Do it."

That was what he needed to hear.

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality…"

Oh, wow, that one was on point from the sound of it. Exactly the line Pyrrha used. Nice.

He pressed on. There was a flub here and there as he put the words he felt were right to where he thought they should go in a slapdash manner. The chant wasn't his, nor was it Pyrrha's. Something in between, yet to become capable of standing on its own. He tried to be sincere, above all.

And once it's over, Accelerator stared transfixed at the pale glow encasing his form, the milky shade near imperceptible on his skin and hair. Judging from the unreserved, scary-as-hell smile, it was a great feeling.

The esper brushed a careful hand against the floor, activating his vector control on a whim. A v-shaped gouge spread from the hand to the side of the building, where it blew out the exterior wall and triggered a collapse that penetrated every floor to reach the lobby.

Both sides of combatants stopped to stare at Accelerator.

"Huh. Oops."

"Oops?" Jaune squeaked. The force of pure destruction had passed inches from him!

"My calculations have a new part to them. The answers were off."

Which wasn't absolutely terrifying or anything, Jaune was sure. However, Accelerator soon forgot him altogether, just as he ignored a renewed assault by Hound Dog, muttering under his breath in a one-person conversation while bullets pinged off what should have been his vital areas. (Then again, that's a legitimate strategy for him, since the bullets were flying back to their owners, and woe to the person that had no cover to protect them in that situation.)

"This is…so the calculations would go…and what's this? A track, but where does it lead?" The other boy made an odd head-tilting gesture, a little too far compared to how other people do it. A short pause, and in his eyes, red was overtaken by blinding white lights.

Jaune stared in frank disbelief. Did he just unlock his Semblance?

Uh, pardon, but what kind of utter crap was this? What, did Aura have a vector now? People went their entire lifetime never getting their Semblance, and this guy found his in less than a minute of having his Aura awakened! Hacks! Unfair! Sorcery!

"...Good for you," was what he said aloud.

Accelerator burst into a cackling laugh, high-pitched and ill-practiced. "Holy shit! The equations are holding! Fucking amazing!" He looked at Jaune. "You've given me something useful."

"Glad you think so." No, he wasn't jealous. Not even slightly. Honest.

"Now isn't this interesting."

Both boys turned toward the speaker, though Kihara had only eyes for Accelerator, looking like a starving man at a feast. He half-stood out of cover, slapping away attempts by his subordinates to pull him back to safety.

"You might have just become a worthy test subject again, Accelerator. Come home? Door's open."

They stared at the madman.

"Is he serious? You two were at each other's throat a minute ago," Jaune asked.

Accelerator sneered. "Yep. That's 100% him, the fucker. He genuinely wouldn't understand the reason if I refuse, too."

"And would you refuse?"

"The hell do you expect? I'm killing him!"

"Good. Bloodthirsty, but good." Jaune picked up his weapons, rising to one knee. "I hope you're ready, then. Let's—"

Accelerator grabbed Jaune by the arm to keep him from climbing to his feet. "—Have everyone except Accelerator sit this one out while he goes wild, is that what you were trying to say? Because you're not going near this fight. I'll deal with Kihara, and I'll be the only one who gets hurt. You can go buy a smoothie or something if you want."

"That wasn't really what I meant when I said that stuff."

"Too bad."

"Well, how about—"

The grip tightened. "Hah?"

"You know what, nevermind. Have fun."

The boy gave a sinister chuckle. "Oh, I will."

He tapped Jaune on the arm, and in a moment of stricken terror, Jaune thought he was about to go the way of that wall over there, blasted to smithereens. It was a needless worry, as the force acting on him seemed almost graceful, sending him in a smooth glide across the floor on his back. The momentum tapered off after he passed the exit, calculated so that he came to a stop with his hair brushing the opposite wall. From the room there then arose the sound of many voices screaming.

Tattletale popped into view. "You okay, Jaune?"

Lying on the ground, Jaune heaved a sigh. "Why is it that my teammates are scarier than my enemies?"

He absolutely was including JNPR in that.

Tattletale feigned an offended gasp. "What do you mean? I'm adorable!"

"Uh-huh. You sure are."

Little Miss 'I need two minutes to drive a man to murder.'

Curious of the ongoing battle, Jaune got up and returned to the threshold of the room, peeking inside.

He soon realized that referring to it as a battle painted an inaccurate picture. That would imply far too even a match-up. In the short interval since his departure, things have taken a decided turn in Accelerator's favor, and it looked unlikely to change.

Hound Dog, who had been more fodder than allies for Kihara thus far, were wiped out down to a handful. The rest of them coated the room with their remains, carelessly swept aside by Accelerator as he pursued his true target.

The cocky attitude Kihara possessed in front of the esper was cracking bit by bit, a grim intent peeking through. The man brought everything available to bear for the sake of squeaking by, up to and including his subordinates, shoving them in the line of fire to escape deathblows, leading Jaune to wonder what leverage he possessed on them to achieve that extent of obedience. The centerpiece of his strategy, however, involved a familiarity with Accelerator's thought process, and which kept Kihara one step out of harm's way each time. On occasion, the man launched a counter before Accelerator took action.

The method took advantage of Accelerator's lack of training. A deliberate shortcoming, Jaune now suspected, in anticipation of this exact scenario. A study of the fighting style on display left Jaune shaking his head. Standing on the sideline afforded him a better perspective than when they were opponents, and it confirmed an animalistic bent to how the other boy fought. He lunged and pounced, swiped and slapped, throwing his whole body into an attack. It can seem daunting, like fighting a wild beast and not a man, yet it's also a weakness that was allowing Kihara to live longer than he had any rights to. The man's not having a good time, but one could argue that he's still in it.

None of that effort mattered.

Jaune got the chance to see what would happen when a punch, one that earlier would have bypassed vector control and laid out Accelerator, went up against Aura. Except for a wince as the phantom sensation of the punch transferred over, the attack failed to leave a lasting mark on the other boy, thus disproving one of Kihara's theories. The attempt nearly earned Kihara a severed spine as Accelerator retaliated, hand shaped in a claw.

Scrambling to hide behind a Hound Dog, Kihara fished out a sharp, needle-looking device. Feverish clicking of a button on it produced no results of note. Judging by the absence of surprise and the ease at which he tossed the object away, he never put much faith in that method from the beginning. There had still been a measure of hope, though, and its loss drained the final trace of his smirk.

From a different pocket emerged a gun, shaped and colored like a plastic toy replica. A pull of the trigger fired off an exotic, purplish energy. One missed Accelerator, the boy moving too fast. A second shot struck his hip to elicit a grunt, but nothing more substantial than that. The hiss of frustration suggested that Kihara was banking on better outcomes. Aura had changed the game.

Hurling the gun aside, he opted instead for an oblique avenue of attack, some terrible truth of Accelerator's past that he revealed with glee. It amused Tattletale to no end when the esper, sneering, pointed to his ear—her thwarted plot to do much the same had prepared the boy for this eventuality. Kihara shouted profanities at deafened ears.

Try after try, his options dwindled.

Tattletale nudged Jaune in the ribs. "Accelerator's herding them into the corner, have you noticed?"

"...Yeah, of course I did," he said, refusing to meet her eyes. A second look with that comment in mind, and he saw what she meant. Kihara and Hound Dog have lost a lot of ground, and each action Accelerator took forced them back another step.

The scientist had also sensed the way things were headed, and that realization—the mounting prospect that he was losing—led the man to come undone. The frantic rifling through his pockets for the next escape route resembled nothing so much as the flailing of a cornered rat. The lab coat—his image, his armor, his arsenal—hung off him in a state of disarray. Fumbling a tool had him screeching in anger. A dodge too slow allowed a bullet, redirected by Accelerator not back to the Hound Dog who fired it but towards Kihara's foot, to slam into his shoe. It claimed the small toe to leave him hobbling. Mistake piled upon mistake, the man was at last falling to despair.

It made a strange contrast. As Kihara devolved to a maddened animal, Accelerator seemed to grow in stature. He stood taller. His composure smoothed out. Movements grew tighter in control. A grin found its place on his face, free and bright. The specter of the person who molded him no longer hung above the boy, and he looked his age for the first time.

And for Kihara, the image he cultivated of a man striding among the titans of this world, of the scientist that could fell a godling, it cracked to reveal someone so very small.

Perhaps that's why the metaphorical gloves came off. He had nothing left to lose.

A tiny vial shattered on the ceiling, and among the fragments of falling glass was a dull gray vapor, dispersing wider than its meager volume would indicate. It induced no effects on the scientist that Jaune could see, but the subordinates standing in his immediate surroundings demonstrated what the substance was meant to do. Without an antidote, they dropped to the floor one by one, faces under their masks turning blue, scrabbling in futile struggle. Some kind of biological agent, it had stifled their lungs. Those lucky few among Hound Dog that stood further from Kihara raced to put distance between them and the area.

Jaune, too, backed away from the door, ready to bolt. "Will that reach us?"

"Ye—no, but Last Order is in range," Tattletale determined, aghast. "He doesn't see it as his trump card, only to distract—meaning Accelerator can contain it!"

Did Kihara even care about orders from his boss anymore? It didn't seem so. Last Order became just another piece to achieve survival in this kill or be killed struggle. An effective one that he exploited to the fullest, as Accelerator rushed to intervene.

Breaking the furniture, the esper gained a chair leg. The chair leg, he set to spin. The spinning, it gave rise to a tornado, one whose vectors were shaped to draw in all the air—along with the vapors—between Last Order and the broken vial, then funneling it out of range to the far end of the room.

What an elegant solution.

"My head huuuurts," Tattletale whined, clutching her temple. She pestered Jaune for a Remedy, which he handed over when it turned out she had a real headache.

Between gulps, the girl complained of how espers were bullshit. According to her, the 'elegant solution' Jaune just witnessed should not have ever succeeded in the manner it did. He refrained from mentioning how it made perfect sense to him, and that he had seen similar maneuvers play out in the Vytal Festival tournament. Tattletale could be weird sometimes.

Still, possible or not, the exchange marked an escalation of tactics between Accelerator and Kihara. Each brought to hand greater gambits, the esper burning through his battery and the scientist unveiling the fruits science had wrought. The room burned, and shook, and distorted, and broke, and thundered.

The last Hound Dog died there, alone and far out of his depths. With him went the final human shield available to Kihara. His pockets were empty, his pride shattered to pieces. Blood flowed from deep gashes all over his body. He wasn't going to walk away from this even in the improbable scenario where he won. The end was nigh.

He had one move left.

His hand dipped into an inner pocket of the lab coat. Whatever was stored there fitted completely within his fist, and he winded back his arm to hurl it straight at Accelerator. The projectile measured no bigger than a shirt button, innocuous as compared to the wicked tools that came before.

Accelerator scoffed, and waved a contemptuous hand that would disintegrate the object on contact.

"Jaune, grab it!"

He didn't question Tattletale, hearing the shrill panic in her voice. [Third Arm] shot across the distance to pluck the projectile a hair's breadth from its destruction, bringing it back to his hand. The act drew a glare from Accelerator for the interruption…and an incoherent scream of rage by Kihara.

Accelerator looked from the scientist to their group, expression dawning in the idea that something was amiss.

"He thought it would hurt you—really, really hurt you—if that was lost," explained Tattletale, eyes riveted on the thing in Jaune's hand. "He would have told you what it was, after you destroyed it."

On closer study, it hardly presented a threat. A thin, black square with little metal strips visible through the plastic exterior that were inscribed with lines. It looked kind of like a smaller version of the memory card that he would stick in his game console.

"A computer chip," Tattletale concluded.

Accelerator froze. His pupils shrank to pinpricks as he stared at the chip.

From one moment to the next, a storm swept over his expression. In a halting, jerky motion, he turned his head towards Kihara.

When he spoke, each word sounded as cold as a gravestone. "When they provided you the Testament device to infect her with the virus, they would have given you a key. A script for the program to serve as insurance should things go wrong." His voice cracked, overcome by a cocktail of emotions—anger, fear, hurt. "A cure."

Jaune sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze flicking down to the chip again. This time, it no longer appeared so harmless.

So far as he knew, nothing in the Marketplace app could help Last Order. It was all either too expensive or designed to deal with a different condition, in addition to an infinite array of products he never managed to sort through. His best idea would have consisted of unlocking her Aura, he supposed, but that was more due to lack of options than him thinking it would be effective. Tattletale mentioned the possibility of an off switch in the design of the angel, and he had trusted her on it.

The chip might be the one method to awaken Last Order.

Accelerator had been a second from crushing it by his own hand, dooming the girl with an innocent, thoughtless action. The boy would have lost everything.

Rage won out over the other emotions, and Accelerator began striding toward Kihara. The look on his face promised murder.

Kihara abandoned any shred of dignity he had left, scampering in a retreat. A pity that his feet met the broken ledge of the building before he could take three steps. At his back was the yawning sky. He had nowhere to run.

"N-now, now, Accelerator. You can't—" A hand squeezed around his throat in a crushing grip, silencing him.

"Shut up," Accelerator grounded out through clenched teeth. "I spent years listening to you on what I 'can' and 'can't,' and I'm sick of it. You're terrible with kids."

To affect an object, vector control required but a touch. That just wouldn't do in this instance, it seemed. For Kihara, for the things he had done, Accelerator winded back an arm. His form, Jaune observed, was better than he had ever shown, a strong stance and a tight fist that the amateur must have seen somewhere to imitate.

Roaring at the top of his voice, he punched Kihara in the face.

The sky was beautiful that night. The rain had let up, and with most of the city having gone dark, the stars were out. Best of all, there flew a comet, a trail of fire shooting for the horizon.

A man made that comet. Its name was Kihara.

Accelerator watched on until it faded from view, then he shook out his fist.

"Good riddance," was his final word on the matter.

"Yeah, no arguments here. What a way to go," Jaune said. Idly, he thought back on all the times in the past few hours where he got on Accelerator's nerves, regretting each and every one of them. Good thing they were on the same side, and that fate of becoming a star in the sky would never befall him.

He put his hand in front of the other boy, opening it to show the computer chip resting on his palm.

"Now, there's one job left for you, hero."

Saving the girl.

And as Last Order awoke to the world, eyes fluttering open, it was Accelerator whom she first saw. Kneeling by his ward, he held one of her hands in both of his. On his face was displayed a casual—almost bored—expression, a deliberate facade after he noticed her waking and hurriedly bottled up any hint of weakness.

Tear tracks betrayed the truth. He hadn't known for certain if the counter-program would work.

Last Order smiled at him, a bright and sunny thing to light up the room. The girl opened her mouth, but then hesitated, not quite knowing what to say.

Thank you? Sorry I made you cry? I'm so happy to see you?

Jaune beat her to it, over the moon with relief now that everything turned out alright.

"Good job, man!" he cheered, and slapped Accelerator on the back in congratulations.

Then he paused in his tracks, as did everybody else, to stare at the esper sprawled flat on the ground.

"Uh…oops? Say, what happened to his vector manipulation?"

-o-

Under the cool night air of September, a quartet walked along the road.

Jaune carried Accelerator on his back, the other boy unable to walk by himself. Meanwhile, flitting to and fro was Last Order. An energetic child, she had bounced back fast after what she had gone through.

Tattletale took point, motormouth running without end.

"—and mitigation of that brain damage is centered entirely on his choker, which has to connect to a external computational brain—"

"The Misaka network, says Misaka as Misaka chimes in helpfully!" Last Order…chimed in helpfully. It hadn't taken them long to discover that there's this verbal tic to the girl where she narrates her life. Tattletale told him it has a story behind it that she has yet to figure out.

"Yes. That." Tattletale huffed at the interruption. For all that she sympathized with Last Order's situation, Tattletale didn't seem to actually like the younger girl very much. It may have to do with the surprising amount of information Last Order possessed in that head of hers and her penchant to cut other people off mid-sentence to wow them with her knowledge. How annoying. "Without it up and running, I don't think he can even talk. His Semblance seems to be operating off of that network, letting him lock in specific equations and thought processes within his memory to retain a measure of independent functionality, which would free the network to perform other tasks. The Semblance power of Mental Resource Allocation, in essence. So, how close am I?" she asked the boy on Jaune's back.

"That's of it the gist," Accelerator replied.

The solution wasn't perfect, seen every time he talked and the words flowed out of order. Jaune chalked it down to a person's mind having a ludicrous amount of different components that ties back into each other.

"Keep at it," Tattletale encouraged. "The results seem to hold even after the Semblance goes inactive, so with continued uses, more and more of the processes should get locked in until you're able to stand on your own power. There would still be gaps for years to come, of course, but at a certain point I imagine it'd be like chasing down bugs in the system as they occasionally pop up."

"Ha! I better am than times a million before. Month me give one and this be would child's play!" Drunk on victory, Accelerator tried to make a gesture with his hand. It refused to heed his directions, almost slapping Jaune on the ear. He didn't care much. The simple fact that he could move the hand was an achievement of leaps and bounds. In the meantime, the choker that he wore would make up the shortfall. Hence, the need to go collect a battery from the only doctor in the city that Accelerator trusted to not tamper with it.

"But, you know…that's a problem on its own," Jaune said.

An idea had floated around in his thoughts for a while now.

Aura wasn't enough to set Accelerator free, making the battery indispensable if he wanted to live a normal life while protecting both him and Last Order. A battery that he could only sourced from Academy City. No matter how one sliced it, the people running this place will always have leverage on him.

That was without mentioning the recent kerfuffle and what it meant for his citizenship status. Accelerator seemed confident that the city would sweep it under the rug and let him stay, based on his value as the strongest esper. He couldn't deny the chances of someone trying to attack him again, though.

These thoughts crystallized in a decision.

"Why don't you and Last Order come with us?" he offered, indicating himself and Tattletale. "I won't lie, it's probably a one way road, but I have a safe place outside the reach of Academy City and with time I think I can figure out a faster way for you to recuperate."

Tattletale frowned, which said she had some misgivings about him making the offer. That became moot, though, as Accelerator shook his head.

"I have ten thousand thirty one reasons for why I cannot go. And nine thousand nine hundred seventy reasons more to stay." Unlike before, he spoke in perfect clarity, words etched upon his mind with no mistake. A number that his equations never failed to arrive at.

20,001? What did that mean?

Jaune stumbled due to an unexpected increase in the weight on his back. Last Order had glomped onto Accelerator, feet dangling off the ground as she hugged him. They weren't inclined to explain further, and Jaune was unwilling to pry. It meant the world to them, that was all he knew, so he accepted the answer given, shrugging and walking on while carrying them both.

Their route took them on a pedestrian bridge, and at around the center of the bridge they spotted the first other person since they left the office building.

The girl meandering by the railings stood out for the white robes she wore—it dragged to her feet and the seams appeared to be held together by safety pins. Silver hair blew in the wind as she gazed at the sky over Academy City, confusion warring with relief.

Hearing their approach, she turned to face them.

"AH!" She shouted in recognition, pointing at the boy lying on Jaune's back.

"Yo." Accelerator flicked a finger back and forth, his best approximation of a wave at this time. "Index. What doing here you?"

She hurried over to their group. "I was trying to save Hyouka!"

Literally who?

"You see, the resonant Telesma strings connected the angel to the core of the spell somewhere in the city!"

Literally what?

"But…then the spell ended. Somehow, Hyouka was saved." She peered closer at Accelerator, noting his injuries. "You look like Touma after he saves a girl. Did you—"

Tattletale interrupted, mouth working a mile a minute, "Index—Spell—Angel—You're the magical index!" She shot ahead, grabbing a squawking Index by the shoulders and pushing her forward to present her to Jaune. "We found her!"

"Aaaand what are we supposed to do with her?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

He couldn't very well sell the girl for Points, now could he? They just finished dealing with a child abductor.

As for other possibilities, like learning magic, they had two and a half hours before the portal went sideways on everybody. It wasn't going to happen.

"...Damn." Coming to the same conclusion, Tattletale released the confused Index.

Since Accelerator was a bit indisposed, Jaune took on the job of explaining the situation for her. "You're right that he saved a girl. That one, there." He pointed to Last Order, who shyly waved at the newest member of the strange-name club. "But I guess it's also right to say that doing so saved your friend, too."

The more she listened, the more Index brightened, blooming in joy at the good news. When Jaune finished his explanation, she nodded in understanding and shifted her attention back to Accelerator. With glistening eyes, she gave him a deep bow.

"Thank you for saving my friend," she said with utmost sincerity.

"...'Kay," Accelerator mumbled, sounding annoyed (or embarrassed).

Jaune felt a nudge from the other boy. It could have been an accident due to Accelerator's troubles with coordination, he supposed, but he liked to think that he was getting the hang of understanding the guy, and interpreted it as a hint to do something about this mood.

There was something he was curious about, anyway.

"So, Touma, you said? It wouldn't be Kamijou Touma, would it?"

Seriously, did everybody know everybody in this city? And here was him, still not remembering half the names of his classmates.

Index rapidly nodded her head up and down. "Yes! Are you his friend?" She bowed again, one of politeness. "Thank you for taking care of him. Touma is a good person, and reliable even if he doesn't buy enough side dishes to go with white rice."

Pft. Jaune and Tattletale burst into snickering at the nonsensical yet fond endorsement of the boy's character. Judging by her look, Index didn't get it, which just made it harder for Jaune to suppress his mirth.

Once he regained his composure, he asked, "Is he doing okay? Last we talked, he was rushing off into a dangerous situation."

"Mmhm. He does that a lot, and it's very troubling," Index complained. Then, she perked up, and raced towards the railings. "But I think he's less hurt than usual today because he's still standing upright! Look, you can see him from here!"

They followed the direction of her finger.

She was pointing at a lower road, way in the distance. A person could be seen, though the details beyond that were hard to determine seeing how far they were, bar one thing.

He recognized the messy (too pointy and unstylish) dark mop of a hairdo.

Kamijou Touma stood over a supine form clad in yellow. Around them were signs of an intense confrontation, a broken street of torn-up asphalt and craters to tell the story of a battle from which he had emerged victorious. That spot would have been where the angel manifested, the epicenter of everything on this night.

Jaune had to laugh again.

An ordinary high school boy that can be found anywhere, huh?

-o-

An hour to midnight, the ball was winding down. Time for the princess to go home to bed.

So it was that Jaune and Tattletale made their exit, having bade goodbye to Accelerator and Last Order at the temporary hospital where they delivered the pair into the care of a frog-faced doctor. Index, they sent off earlier with a message, a second farewell for Kamijou and Misaka whom they had not the time to meet with again. Now, the two made their way across the city, en route to the coin lockers to retrieve the goods they bought.

"The entire thing was a wash," Tattletale whined.

Jaune tried to cheer her up. "Don't say that. We did good."

"Good isn't rich, Jaune. Uuugh!"

"...Yeah." Jaune sighed.

They complained for complaint's sake. Academy City had held so much promise in the beginning. A modern world, replete with science and magic if one knew where to look, and of all the groups they could have aligned with in the place, it was with a teenager and a kid.

Neither of them would change a thing. Still, they could dream.

A steady whirring noise knocked them out of their pity party. It grew louder, closer, as the seconds passed, prompting them to watch their surroundings with a wary eye. Jaune placed a hand on his sword.

The source of the noise became apparent as an object dropped from the sky.

Sleek of make, the slim disc stayed aloft on two rotor wings. A metal claw—like the ones in the crane game machines at the arcade—extended below it to hold a package, a blue plastic container sealed tight. The object, a drone, employed some manner of technology years beyond the ones from Remnant that Jaune was familiar with, because the cargo measured impossibly large compared to it.

The drone drew level with their eyes, whereupon a little compartment flipped open. A camera lens spun, and flashed with light.

"Recipients confirmed. Please standby for delivery."

Jaune and Tattletale shared a look. Delivery?

Before they could question it, the package was deposited on the ground with a soft clatter.

And then, a phone rang.

Author's notes:

Jaune, meeting modern military tactics — *confused noises*
Tattletale, meeting anime logic — *confused noises*