Chapter Ten: Just in Time
"This… could be better,"
Few gainsaid the General as he sat at his desk, eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. With a sigh he opened his eyes and looked up. "So, we have millions of Lien in property damage, hundreds hospitalized, people dead, and all for political games."
"I'm not even sure it makes sense," Clover added. "I can't see how this gets Jacques Schnee much support. The employees he's suspending seem more likely to resent him than vote for him."
"He likely resented having to pay them." Winter huffed.
"He's not wrong, though," added Weiss. "Father can get… angry, but I've never known him to act out when it might cost him something. He was already behind in the polls, and this might cost him the election."
"Be that as it may, we have a deteriorating security situation, and we still have the election itself to get through," Ironwood said, laying his hands palm down on the desk. "I've already had an urgent call with the service heads and I've got an in-person meeting today. Admiral Redfort has informed me that the Air Fleet is stepping up culling missions; Grimm numbers in adjacent regions already appear to be up by 245 per cent."
Jaune found himself exchanging glances with the RWBY girls standing opposite, and was sure Pyrrha beside him was doing the same. They'd more of an inside view this time… but this all sounded too similar to how things began to build up last time… before the fall of Beacon.
"Have you… considered bringing them in?" Qrow asked, leaning against the wall. "Like, I know I was sceptical about telling all, and I'm no fan of the military, yet they've got to be asking questions. They're your chief underlings, at least when it comes to running all this." He waved around him. "They've got to be wondering what's going on. Same with the Council."
"He has a point, Sir," Clover said.
The General was quiet for a moment. "I see what you're saying," he eventually said, "but it still comes down to a matter of trust. We know – from losing control of our automated forces at Beacon – that we have a leak somewhere. We also strongly suspect that Salem's agents are operating in Mantle. If I came clean with them at this stage… it might make some things easier. It'd also increase the risk that Salem would hear of Amity and bring her down upon us before we're ready."
"It sounds like she's coming anyway," Ruby piped up.
"And regardless of who wins, Mantle's new Councillor will vote to end the embargo anyway," Weiss added.
General Ironwood let out a long breath. "I know," he gritted out. "But to come clean at this stage… we can't. If we can just buy a little more time…"
"So what do we do?" asked Winter, interceding.
"Some of the service heads – particularly the heads of the Air Fleet and the Mantlean Gendarmerie – are pushing for a relaxation of the embargo, at least privately," Ironwood said, a little more easily as he focused on matters at hand. "Since the election is almost upon us, I can likely get them to wait for that, at least. In the meantime, we must keep Mantle calm, and make sure the election takes place without incident. We've stopped the outright violence, but the city's going to remain restive and continue drawing in Grimm until this election is over."
"So, we focus our efforts there, not Amity?" asked Clover.
Ironwood's jaw tightened. "If Amity were the silver bullet we first thought it was, I'd prioritize it, without question" he said. "However, as we've learned, it isn't. I won't give up on it: I want to get as much done before the Council start demanding answers. The quicker we can get it done… the quicker it becomes invulnerable to Grimm attack." He paused and sighed again. "Yet we also have to protect what we have. I've called in personnel from our more remote outposts to try and stretch our manpower. Hopefully that will be enough, at least for the next few days."
No one said anything, as mood turned decidedly sombre. Ironwood's gaze swept the room, from Qrow to his left, past team RWBY, then to the Ace Ops, and then past team Spectral to Winter on his right. "Do we have any good news?"
There was another moment of quiet, and then Yang spoke up. "Well, the PR side of things isn't entirely bad," she said with a wry smile, and then held up her Scroll.
"How… how did they even get that shot?" Jaune demanded in a vaguely appalled tone. He ached, the culmination of a dozen minor scrapes, injuries and burns, all of which were aggravated when an only slightly better-off Marrow slapped him on the back. "Hey!"
"Just congratulating you on your heroism, buddy," Marrow grinned. "Though you're lucky your aura's as hard as your head."
Jaune groaned, as he turned back towards Yang. On her Scroll was displayed a picture of him on guard, flames breaking across his shield, in a shot that'd somehow even captured the smaller figures huddled behind him. All beneath the headline "HERO OF MANTLE!"
He felt his face go red with heat. "They were kids. I couldn't… I just…"
"It's okay, Jaune," Pyrrha said, touching his arm a little more gently than Marrow had. Her own cheeks seemed a little flushed. "It's admirable."
"It's not front-page news, but it is page three," Yang chuckled.
General Ironwood looked around the room again with weary eyes. "At the moment I'll take whatever good news I can get."
-000-
The tension was getting worse. Jaune imagined he could almost feel it in the air, sense the ratcheting pressure crushing upon them. Mantle itself was quiet now, two days past the riots, yet it felt like the stillness of a city holding its breath, waiting for worse to come. Much of the damage had been cleared up, but the anger and frustration that bubbled underneath was not gone, bad feelings that would likely explode if the people found out what was coming. The Grimm were pressing harder now, both on Mantle and towards the Amity site. Their teams were being worked to the bone culling Grimm, defending convoys or trying to protect the city.
And that was just the enemy without. The violence of the riots had concealed another casualty: another murder. As before, Team Spectral attended the site. Unlike last time, Jaune kept his stomach under control. On the other hand, little else was achieved.
Thankfully his little moment of fame seemed to be a flash in the pan. Oh, the moms in Mantle spoke warmly of it, but there were other topics on their mind. Hushed and hurried whispers spoke to their unease, and he could see the same worry, if little understood, was affecting the children too.
Yet even that failed to underline quite how things were going compared to the Academy landing pads, here and now. He'd thought Atlas was an armed camp when they arrived, but the pads had been positively sedate compared to now. Now they were filled with a flurry of activity, of landing Mantas and both troops and students running and boarding back and forth. They were moving to a war footing, and as uncomfortable as Jaune found it, he couldn't blame them. If this was going the same way as Beacon, they needed to be prepared.
Another Manta touched down, and Jaune turned to see if it was the Ace Ops. He was due to meet with Vine for aura training; the team were once again overdue. He wasn't surprised, with the way all their missions were going. Still, he kept his eye out for their return. Once again, it wasn't them, as a squad of regular Atlesian soldiers and a couple of special operatives disembarked. The soldiers marched off as the operatives broke away, one glancing at a watch as she looked around.
He turned away again, hearing the Manta rise aloft to clear the space for new arrivals. He would have sunk back into his reverie save for a sudden interruption.
"Excuse me?" said a sharp voice. He twisted to see one of the specialists approaching him. Her Atlesian uniform was crisp, and marked out with a blue beret. That in itself was nothing special; Jaune had noticed that most specialists – including the Ace Ops – seemed to customize their uniform to some degree. Yet as he took in the hat, he couldn't shake off the impression that he recognised this young woman from somewhere, with her brown skin and dark teal bob. Her blue eyes, again a little familiar, gave him a piercing stare. "Huntsman Arc, correct?" she asked.
"You know me?" he asked, pointing to himself in some confusion.
She gave a barely perceptible sigh. "I keep abreast of all newly qualified huntsmen," she said offhandedly. "Operative Soleil. I was recalled to Atlas in view of the recent… disturbances. I was meant to be met by Specialist Ebi, yet he does not seem to be here. I understand you work with the Ace Ops on occasion?"
"Ah, yes," he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think they're held up on their latest mission. I'm waiting for Vine myself."
"Operative Zeki," she nodded, although whether in clarification or correction was hard to tell. "So be it." She fell silent as she turned to stand next to him, falling into a position Marrow had told him was 'at ease', although there didn't seem anything especially easeful about it.
He'd never spoken to Ciel Soleil, not when she'd attended the Vytal Festival. That's where he realised he recognised her from. Glancing at her now, he was reminded that when some joker had suggested Atlas would sneak a robot in amongst their contestants, many of the students present reckoned that Ciel was the obvious automaton. Ciel still seemed every bit the perfect soldier. Though then she huffed and glanced at her watch again, and Jaune was reminded that there was a human being under that exterior.
"Congratulations on your own graduation," Jaune offered. "I understand you received several commendations?"
"Thank you, I did," she nodded. There was little in her posture to indicate any difference, and yet there was a hint of stress in her words. "The details are… classified."
"My apologies. The last two years have been rough."
Her eyes flickered to him. "So they have," she eventually said.
They fell into an awkward silence again. Jaune was reminded of Penny's words the night they'd played Remnant and wondered what to make of her words. Penny and Ciel had been part of a team, right? For all that things in Atlas were done a little differently, and Ciel seemed frosty even by the standards of a kingdom that'd produced Weiss and Winter, there must be some sort of connection between the two. Penny seemed to yearn for one, and she'd also said Ciel had seemed emotionally affected when they'd met… which didn't make sense if Ciel just didn't care for her.
Should he say anything? Part of him said no, but something else, deep inside, wouldn't let the matter drop. He was enough of a coward in his own personal life; if he truly wanted anything to get better, well, he'd better step forward.
"So," he began, "… do you see much of Penny?"
Cie eyed him carefully. "No," she said curtly.
Jaune almost retreated under that stare. No, don't be a coward, he told himself, convinced there was more to this. "Sorry, this may seem… impertinent," she seemed the formal sort, "but why not? I think she'd really like to see you?"
Her gaze didn't shift from him. "It is impertinent." For a moment he didn't think she was going to say any more. But then, as she turned away and sighed, she murmured, "I watched her die."
"Oh," he said. "I'm… I'm sorry."
"You should be, considering it was your partner who ripped her apart," Ciel said in a cold, cutting, tone.
"Hey!" he snapped, his ire raised, and turned, squaring off against her. "Pyrrha never meant for that to happen! She was horrified! And it wasn't her fault!"
He stopped, aware of how his raised voice was carrying across the landing pads, attracting all manner of stares and glances. Ciel raised her hand in a placating fashion.
"My apologies, Huntsman Arc," she said. "I am… aware of intelligence that exonerates your partner. I should not have let my emotions get the better of me."
"Okay," he breathed, calming himself. "Apology accepted. I know how feelings can be. Sorry for snapping." He looked at her again, trying to still his own feelings to gauge hers. If Ciel reacted like this at the memory of those events… she must care about Penny, right? "Sorry too for reminding you of, well, that day. But she's back, right? Why not, uh, go and see her?"
Ciel turned her gaze back on the landing pads before them. "I watched her die," she repeated, almost as a mantra.
He bit his lip, unable to make head or tail of her words. "You… know she's an android, right?" he ventured.
"I am aware of her true nature, yes, even if I wasn't before," she sniffed. "Yet the Penny I knew was still real, if artificial. How could she survive what she went through? I was there! All that was left was–" Ciel cut herself off, shaking her head.
"You… don't think it's the same Penny?" Jaune realised.
Her gaze was sharp. "How is it supposed to be? She was dead. I recovered–" She stilled herself, then began speaking in a more measured, if tight, tone. "I did for her what I'd have done for any dead comrade and brought her home. So how can the 'Protector of Mantle' be the same girl, and not some imposter in the same metal? Is it not more likely to be another entity, programmed to act and sound the same, yet not the same girl at all?"
"And… have you spoken to anyone about this?"
She gave him a look.
"Of course not," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "That would be too easy. Look, I know a little about not talking to people about problems." And not just as a past vice, either. Physician, heal yourself, his inner voice whispered. He pushed it aside. "And I've seen others do it too. It doesn't work out. Have you tried speaking with Penny? Ruby was her friend, and she's sure it's her. Doctor Polendina sees her as his daughter, and he's sure too."
"I hardly have much access to Doctor Polendina," Ciel pointed out.
Jaune took a breath, as he looked back towards the pads. "Okay. I'm sure it's her too, though. Look, Penny's still uneasy around my partner, because she remembers what happened, even if she knows it wasn't really Pyrrha's fault. You ask how she could survive? Doctor Polendina could give a full explanation, but maybe you could just try speaking with her, and then see how you feel? Do it, and I think you'll come to the conclusion that, no matter how it happened, it has. It's Penny."
Ciel didn't respond, and after a moment Jaune turned his head to look at her. She was silent as she gazed into the distance, though he could tell she wasn't watching the Manta that was just touching down.
Best to give her a moment, he realised.
That moment didn't last. As the latest arrivals disembarked from their Manta, Jaune recognised the Ace Ops. A glance told him Vine had spotted him, and Jaune realised his impromptu conversation with Ciel Soleil would be at an end.
Yet she turned to him one last time. "I will take your words under advisement, Huntsman Arc."
With a quick nod she was off, heading towards Clover for her own marching orders. Jaune watched, unsure of what to make of the whole thing. He pulled himself up as Vine drew close.
"Mister Arc?" the tall man said with a faint smile. "Come, we have much to learn."
-000-
Vine was a ruthless taskmaster. He'd set Jaune on a variety of exercises, having him try and dodge blows, then tank them. To use his aura to strengthen, and then to shield, himself. It was gruelling, painful, and yet he carried none of the air of severity that Winter did. He did all his instruction with a small smile, even as he battered at Jaune with his own semblance, which allowed him to extend the reach of his limbs with aura. He reminded Jaune a little of Ren, if Ren were much, much, more smug.
Jaune's aura, despite its magnitude, had been worn down to near breaking point when Vine stopped him. "Now, Mister Arc, take a deep breath and then focus on yourself," the operative said, looking at his Scroll. "Try and use your semblance but, this time, turn it inward."
"Alright," Jaune said. "I mean, I haven't really done it all that much to myself, I've mainly done it to other people."
"And yet from what you've told me, there have been times?"
"Well, yes," Jaune shrugged. "Are you sure this will work? My aura's nearly out."
"Just try it, Mister Arc," Vine insisted.
"Okay," Jaune said, and did as Vine asked. It was a bit of a struggle: the main feeling he tapped into to exert his semblance was a desire to protect others. Using it on himself seemed a bit off. And yet he remembered moments when – somehow – he'd amplified his own aura. He tried to focus again, tried to somehow apply that feeling, that desire to his own aura. Nothing happened at first, and he felt like he was trying to make a square circle.
"Remember, Mister Arc. You have to remain standing if you're to protect others," Vine prompted.
The feeling blazed to life, and he felt the power of his semblance run through him. He opened his eyes, to see his aura glowing not just over his hands, as it tended to do when he amplified others, but spread all over him. Fatigue and weariness fell away, as did the pains and bruising of Vine's training.
The operative himself simply turned his Scroll around, allowing Jaune to see the readout on his own aura. He saw the bar fill up, right too and past 100%.
"Woah," was all he could say.
"'Woah' indeed," Vine said.
"And this means… I can just recharge myself?"
"Apparently so. And I imagine with a significant boost to durability and other aura effects."
"But this…" Jaune looked down at his own hands. "How does that even work? My semblance uses aura, right? Do I have unlimited aura?"
Vine chuckled. "In practice, no. There are always some limits. Still, it does mean you should be able to push yourself far beyond what you, or others, are wont to do."
"Yet my aura was nearly out," Jaune pressed. "How did I use it?"
Vine tilted his head in thought. "You amplified what little was left, I imagine. It might seem paradoxical. Then again, while the general Atlesian approach has brought many advantages to the study of Aura, I do not believe it can explain everything."
"What do you mean?"
"Atlas prides itself on its science, on its technology. We've taken that same approach and applied it to aura, something that has brought a number of breakthroughs. We can quantify it, even manipulate it. Penny would not be possible without those breakthroughs. Yet I believe we can only go so far in demystifying the power of the soul. Aura is a token of a world we cannot see, not with eyes nor instruments."
"Isn't that a little worrying?" Jaune asked.
Again there was that faint smile. "Actually, I find it comforting. Our souls have a power that need not be confined or constrained by what we see and understand. I find that a promise of something more, something that speaks to the wisdom I find in several ancient aura traditions. And it tells me that we may find aura capable of some feats Atlesian science tells us are simply impossible. It brings me hope, a hope that – like aura itself – may be a light for us against the dark."
"Well," Jaune scratched the back of his neck, not expecting this turn to the conversation. "I guess you're the expert."
Vine chuckled softly. "I'm a student, like you, Mister Arc. At a different stage, perhaps, but when it comes to aura and the soul, I'm still learning too. Yet I'd advise against turning down the possibility of hope."
"Okay," Jaune nodded. "Yeah, I guess I shouldn't do that." It was true enough. He couldn't speak to Vine's conclusions… but hope was an alluring prospect. "So, about my semblance… so long as I have some aura, I should be able to boost myself?"
"To a degree," Vine nodded. "You'll need to train, diligently. I'd advise meditation, although too few of my students practice that. And when the time comes, you'll need to channel the right motivation. Do this and you will. There will be limits, even if they may be in a different place than what auric science can tell us. There are limitations of mind, of heart, of spirit. But rest assured, Mister Arc, in your case I am sure we can stretch far beyond what you are accustomed to."
"That's good to know," Jaune said sheepishly. "Like what?"
"Have you thought about extending your aura? Extending the range of your semblance beyond what you can touch?"
"I… I don't think that's possible?" Jaune said. "Whenever I've used my semblance, I've always been touching, or been near to touching, the person I'm amplifying."
"If you believe it's not possible, it may not be," Vine said easily, before giving Jaune a pointed look. "And what if you believed differently?"
Jaune looked at the operative in confusion. "Eh?" he eventually said.
"Think about it," Vine explained. "Your semblance is already doing impossible things and is driven by your very soul. It's not powered by flesh or blood: it's will, passion, spirit. Why need it be shackled by the limits our bodies put upon it?"
Jaune 's mouth popped open. He thought the matter over as he processed Vine's words, his eyes drifting away as he did so.
"In desperate situations," Vine continued, "some have found they can push their physical bodies far beyond their usual limits. Would that be any less true for the soul? So tell me, Mister Arc: do you think the range of your semblance has any real reason to be connected to the physical reach of your arm?"
"Ah… I guess not?"
Vine smiled, then took a step back. "Then come, let us try. And if you should fail at first, be not discouraged."
-000-
The wall had been pressed harder and harder since the riots. Thus Pyrrha Nikos found herself once more standing against the Grimm at the bottom of this hole in the wall.
This pack of Sabyrs had come in fast and unexpected before Pyrrha dived into their midst. Wisps of black smoke now wafted around her, the remains of the half-dozen she'd already slain. Several more fell to the fire of the squad of regular infantry behind her. Yet, as Pyrrha ducked beneath one swiping claw and stabbed Miló into the gut of another, more streamed in, threatening to bury them beneath a tide of black fur and red and white claw.
She switched Miló into a sword, cutting it free as she twisted to avoid another beast, when the one lunging past shuddered as a chunk was blown out of its skull. It thudded onto the ice, and two more Sabyrs rapidly followed, dropping as swiftly aimed arounds struck them neatly in their heads.
As Pyrrha carved another beast apart she risked a look back. Another Atlesian soldier, a specialist if the nonstandard beret was any indicator, had joined the fray, standing atop a heap of rubble with a custom sniper rifle in her hands. Seeming to voice something to her weapon, she re-aimed, this time at those parts of the pack that were further off, and fired. Once again, all her shots were precise, but now her targets blew apart, the explosive rounds scything through her targets and the other Grimm around them.
That cut down the numbers, but there were more than enough of the monsters for both of them. As the next wave of Sabyrs reached her, Pyrrha kicked upwards, smashing one in the jaw as she flicked Miló back into its javelin mode before she thrust the javelin into its chest. She bashed another aside with Akoúo, then flung it, using her semblance to trigger its serrated blades and cut through two more before she pulled the weapon back to her arm.
The sight of the specialist seemed to tickle something in Pyrrha's memory, but she had no time to indulge the thought, for the Grimm were upon them. Fortunately, they were a good combination, she and this unknown sniper. Pyrrha was a balanced fighter, capable at any range, yet she truly excelled in the cut and thrust of close combat, dancing between blows that would have caught any other combatant. This specialist, meanwhile, clearly had an aptitude for ranged combat, somehow managing to hit even the most difficult of moving targets with a weapon that seemingly fired the right round on every occasion. Something demonstrated again when a handful of Sabyrs rushed past, beyond Pyrrha's reach, as they charged at the more vulnerable infantry behind her. With a whisper the sniper took aim once more and fired, and the lead Sabyr was set on fire when it was struck. The others reared back from the fire; Pyrrha was on their heels and cut them down swiftly.
As she pulled Miló from the carcass of the last, she dared to hope that was it. There were patches here and there where the corpses of the Grimm lay so thick that the air was clouded by the dark fumes of their dissipating bodies. A low growl told her otherwise, and Pyrrha whirled, setting her heart once more to fight.
There were eight Sabyrs left, yet it was the one that led them that caught her attention. Far larger than the others, it loomed over them, while its back and head were covered with plates of thick white bone. An Alpha Sabyr, the leader of this pack, its red eyes glowed with malice as saliva dripped from its ravenous jaw.
Without further warning it leapt, flinging its large body directly at Pyrrha. Her mind raced as she brought up Miló and Akoúo, preparing to strike. She didn't expect shards of bone to suddenly explode off the alpha's head plate, as the sniper somehow aimed and fired an armour-piercing round in a fraction of a second. The penetrating shot didn't stop the creature, but Pyrrha aimed her stroke at the crack that blossomed on the thick skull plate. The crack broke apart as Miló pierced into the flesh beneath, and Pyrrha triggered the fire dust in her weapon's head as she ducked and twisted. It howled its last as momentum carried it over Pyrrha, missing her by a whisker. The cadaver smacked into the ground behind her as she bounced to her feet, using her semblance to yank Miló back to her arm.
As she turned her attention to the last remnants of the pack, another blur of motion was amongst them, a mix of red and black that tore into the remaining Sabyrs with a sharp blade. The specialist raised her weapon, eye trained on her scope as she aimed, but Pyrrha raised her hand as the last Grimm was asunder. "She's friendly," she called out.
She'd seen the telltale rose petals. The specialist still hesitated, then lowered her gun, pointing it to the ground.
The blur of rose petals dispersed, revealing Ruby Rose with her huge sniper rifle/scythe in her hands. "Oh Pyrrha!" she called out happily. "I didn't know you were here. We were hitting some Grimm outside the city walls and this pack of Sabyrs made a run for it."
"So I see," Pyrrha smiled wryly.
The specialist picked that moment to speak up. "And where are the rest of your team, Huntress Rose?"
Ruby's eyes went wide, before she darted a look behind her. She chuckled awkwardly as she rubbed the back of her neck as she turned back round. "Er… I guess I got so caught up chasing those Sabyrs, I forgot they couldn't follow as fast." Her eyes then focused on the specialist. "Wait, Ciel? Ciel Soliel? You remember me?"
Pyrrha stiffened. That's why the woman looked familiar. She was Penny's partner… someone who would have watched as Pyrrha ripped her partner apart. So stuck was Pyrrha in the thought that she barely caught Ciel's reply.
"It's Operative Soleil now," Ciel corrected her in a steady tone. "And yes: you leave an impression that's hard to forget," Despite her impassive face there was a hint of mild amusement.
"Oh." Ruby's face reddened, as she twiddled her index fingers together. "Er, goodie."
"You fought well, Huntress Rose. Here and during the fall," Ciel reassured her, before her eyes looked up at the sky beyond. "And I believe your teammates are approaching now."
Ruby looked round, as Pyrrha also focused on the dot that swiftly resolved into an approaching Manta. "Ruby!" a sharp cry rang out from the craft in rebuke.
Ruby winced at Weiss's voice, then sighed. "I guess they are." As she glanced back, Pyrrha saw a hint of fatigue in the girl. Despite that, she had a smile. "At least we get to do what we love."
A rope ladder was flung from the Manta as it began to hover overhead, and Pyrrha could see Yang's grinning face at the top. "Come on, Ruby!"
Ruby grabbed the ladder, as her cheery demeanour returned. "Take care of yourselves, Ciel, Pyrrha," she said, hoisting herself off the ground. Her eyes stuck on Pyrrha for a moment, doubtless seeing the rigidity in her posture, the silver-eyed girl giving her a querying look. Finally, she nodded at Pyrrha in reassurance, and clambered up as the Manta flew away.
The pair were silent for a moment, Pyrrha uncomfortably aware of the other woman's presence, wondering what she thought.
That question was brought to a swift end.
"You are uncomfortable at my presence," Ciel observed.
Pyrrha choked, stunned by the specialist's bluntness. After managing to collect herself, she gave the girl a searching look. "Do you always say what you're thinking?"
"It saves time," Ciel replied.
Pyrrha waited for more, but the specialist made no attempt to elucidate her remarks. She simply kept her gaze fixed on the icy wastes before them. Eventually Pyrrha realised she would have to be the one to explain.
"It's not your presence that shames me so, as much as what I did," she whispered, averting her eyes. "With… with Penny…"
There was a slight scuffle to her side. Pyrrha risked a look at Ciel, and saw the woman had likewise cast her eyes to the ground, as she kicked at the gravel and ice at their feet.
"I… I don't know if I can forgive you for that," Ciel admitted quietly. "But I know that I should. I know you were manipulated, that there is no right reason to hold it against you, and yet…"
"Emotions are complicated things."
"They are," Ciel nodded. "My heart is reluctant to yield, yet I know you weren't to blame for what happened, Huntress Nikos. A fact your partner forcefully reminded me of."
"You spoke to Jaune?" Pyrrha asked in surprise.
"We met, briefly, on the landing pads yesterday."
"He never mentioned it."
"It was in passing," Ciel shrugged, a curiously rigid motion coming from her.
Perhaps that's why he'd never mentioned it, Pyrrha thought. Or maybe it was because, save when the team worked together, their life had become rather like that of passing ships.
No, that wasn't it, Pyrrha rebuked herself. She could have made time to see him. But she hadn't. She'd been thinking of doing what Yang had advised… yet she was scared and had chosen not to push things.
She was a little disappointed he hadn't sought her out either. He always disappeared in the nights they weren't on duty.
Her musings were cut short as Ciel spoke again. "Your partner gave some curiously emotive advice."
Pyrrha raised an eyebrow, but Ciel made no move to elaborate. "He tends to wear his heart on his sleeve," Pyrrha offered instead. "I can't say he's wrong: we've just been speaking about how emotions can affect us."
"Yes: they can mislead us. Cast blame where we should not, or assume guilt where it is not needed," Ciel raised her eyes to the horizon again. "They lead us astray, cause us to think things that are not so, and attract Grimm. Should we not be wary?"
It was odd, Pyrrha thought, to meet a girl who seemed so different, and yet feel like she was looking into a strange sort of mirror. "I though much as you did, for a while," she said. "After Beacon; after the fall."
"You are a skilled combatant," the specialist replied. "Did such focus help?"
"It almost got me killed."
Ciel said nothing, turning towards Pyrrha, eyes locked on in silent query.
"I thought I had to drive my emotions from me," Pyrrha confessed. "That at the very least I had to bury them as I pushed myself further. Yet when the time came, I found I hadn't killed my emotions, only caged them. And as they ripped free, they nearly destroyed me."
"What happened?"
"Losing control of my emotions nearly killed me… and my partner's emotions saved me, awakening his semblance. So yes, uncontrolled emotions are a hazard, a danger, but the response can't be to lock them up or pretend they don't exist. We must seek to control them, to channel them. The Grimm are attracted to negative emotions, it is true, yet the positive can be a shield and a protection against them. And it is the capacity to feel that makes us different from them, that differentiates the souled from the soulless."
Ciel watched her, her eyes searching Pyrrha's own, and Pyrrha was at a loss at to how Ciel was taking her words. Eventually, she spoke. "Your skill at arms is well known, but I had never suspected you to be so adroit with words."
Pyrrha almost laughed at that. "Hardly. At least never when I want to be. These are just matters that are close to my heart."
"And have you told your partner this?" Ciel pressed.
Pyrrha froze, not expecting that question. "What do you mean?"
"Your partner advised me of the need to… speak to people," Ciel explained. "To talk matters out. I was wondering if you and he had done the same."
Brothers, even Ciel Soliel is giving me romantic advice! No, she corrected herself, this wasn't just romantic, it was more than that. And the counsel was right, whatever its source and channel.
"We have in the past, though not about this," Pyrrha admitted. "Perhaps I need to take such advice too."
Ciel nodded, seemingly contented. "Perhaps you do. It would be well to keep our minds clear. I should have been hard put to it, had you not been here to hold the line."
If was an offer, one of an understanding, an offer Pyrrha gladly took. "Thank you, Operative Soliel. And your shots were both well-aimed and timed."
Despite her impassive face, Ciel's lip almost twitched upwards. "More than you might think."
-000-
Jaune kept a careful watch as he clung to the newest of his weapons… his stop sign.
It had been four days since the riots, and despite the impending elections, things seemed to be settling a trifle. The children seemed a little happier, their combined voices joining to form a cheerful babble, while the mothers were just a smidgen more carefree as they stuck around to chat with each other… or to direct more appraising looks at him. He flushed a little as a pair giggled, one winking at him as the other waved.
He wondered if this is how the roasts felt at his family home, when they were laid out before the hungry eyes of himself and his seven sisters.
He pulled himself together. They'd be setting off in a few more minutes. Some of the moms had already gone, hurrying to work or whatever, and it wouldn't be long before he took these children on their short journey to school. Not the most glamourous of huntsmen assignments, but it had grown on him.
He then saw little Lila, who unlike the other children seemed even more withdrawn today. She stood apart, her face paler than usual.
"Hey there," he said, dropping to a knee to get on level with the girl. "What's the matter?"
Her eyes darted towards him before looking away shyly. Her lips moved, but he could barely here her mumble.
"It's okay," he reassured her. "You can tell me."
She met his gaze again. "There was a strange man," she said quietly.
"Go on," he encouraged her.
"When I looked out the window this morning. He was outside our house. I didn't like him."
The little girl was clearly troubled, and that alone meant Jaune wouldn't dismiss her words. And there was more. Lila's house is down an alleyway. There shouldn't be much foot traffic, he thought to himself. And of course the most chilling realisation: her mother is on the list. The same mother who'd returned in the direction of her home just a few minutes before.
He had no proof, not yet. But some intuition told him he couldn't let this alone. If anything happened, if some terrible act took place and he'd done nothing, would he be able to look Lila, or anyone else, in the eye again?
"I'll look into it," he told the young girl, and then looked around. "Ms Mills!" he cried out as he stood, taking swift steps towards her. As the woman turned towards him, a smile on her face, he pushed the stop sign into her hand. "I've got to check something out. Keep the kids here!"
Ms Mills barely had a chance to give a flustered reply before he dashed off, running down the street towards Lila's home. Thinking quickly, he called Pyrrha.
"Pyrrha!" he called out the moment she answered. "It's me! I might have a lead on our killer!"
"What?! Jaune, where are you?"
"Heading to the possible target's home," he panted as he ran. "Vesta Fialova, 32B Nicholasstrasse. Call Winter. I can't be sure, but my gut says something's up."
"I'm on my way," Pyrrha replied. "I'll call the others. Synchronize your Scroll. And Jaune… be careful."
"I'll try," he said, and ended the call. As he turned a corner, he moved his scabbard to his left wrist, clipping his Scroll right behind it. As he ran, he tapped the commands to connect his Scroll to the team net, allowing the rest of the team to monitor his aura. He almost stumbled as he realised what that meant. He was getting in over his head. Whoever this killer was, if they were one of Salem's crew, it wasn't just Ms Fialova's life at stake.
He could well lose his own.
Yet he charged onward. The thought of leaving that little girl without a mother drove all considerations aside. Too many people had suffered already. And if it was a less than even fight? It wouldn't be the first time.
He ran up Nicholasstrasse at last, using aura to push himself forward and ease his burning lungs. He reached the head of the alleyway and rounded it, to see Ms Fialova nearing the steps to her own door.
"Ms Fialova! Wait!" he cried out as he sprinted after her. She whirled round, her face brightening at first, then falling as she saw his own expression.
"What is it?" she asked with a furrowed brow.
He was breathing hard as he reached her, just at the bottom of the steps. "Miss," he panted, "I think you're in danger." He shot a glance at the door, just a few feet and steps away, and gently interposed himself between it and her.
"Now?! Why? I was just returning home!" Vesta replied, gesturing at the house. She made a show of looking at it, from the ground up. "There's nothing out of…" She trailed off.
"Miss?" Jaune pressed.
Her face paled, as her eyes fixed on the windows of the upper floors. "The top window," she hissed. "The bathroom. I'd left it open; I swear it!"
Jaune turned his neck. The terraced house had three floors. Including the ground floor, with the two upper floors each having two sets of windows. All of them were closed.
Without making any sudden movements, he tapped the Scroll on his arm to make a call again. "Pyrrha," he said, as soon as she picked up, keeping his voice low. "I'm with Ms Fialova now, outside her house. Suspect is possibly inside."
"Okay Jaune," Pyrrha said between breaths with a tense voice. "We're on our way. Don't do–"
The door slammed open, practically kicked off its hinges. On instinct, Jaune flicked his shield open and brought it up, just in time for something to smash against it. He and Vesta were knocked back, the woman falling over with a cry of pain. Jaune remained on his feet, using every bit of footwork Pyrrha had taught him, as he focused his eyes on the figure in the doorway. There a tall, pale man stood, wearing a long brown jacket, open at the front. Beneath its hood, amber eyes glittered on a face framed with long dark hair, while long blades were attached to his wrists. Most telling, a long metallic scorpion's tail – the very thing that had struck against Jaune's shield – twitched and waved in front of him.
Tyrian Callows, Salem's pet psychopath, slowly walked forwards as Jaune edged backwards. Crocea Mors sang as Jaune pulled it from its scabbard. To his regret, he saw the call with Pyrrha had been dropped when they were struck, but he dared not take his eyes off the killer in front of him.
"Ms Fialova," he called out, only to hear her whimper. "Vesta, I'm going to need you to run, okay?"
"I can't!" the woman replied in a pained voice. He heard her stumble behind him. "I twisted my ankle."
Jaune mentally cursed himself. He should made sure she avoided injury. "Right," he said, taking a deep breath. "Just stay behind me."
"Oh, it wouldn't have helped anyway!" Tyrian added cheerfully. "Though you don't have stick around, boy. Turn around, leave, and we'll say nothing more about it."
Jaune thought he heard an intake of breath behind him, as if Vesta truly feared he'd leave her to this fate. "That's not going to happen," he growled instead.
"A pity," Tyrian giggled. "Admittedly, that wouldn't have helped either. You've seen my face, boy, before it's time. I'd have had to kill you anyway, but I guess we're doing this the hard way." The murderer's eyes practically gleamed as he advanced.
"I see you replaced the tail?" Jaune snarked, attempting to distract the maniac. His own eyes were glued to the threatening appendage as he slowly retreated, as he heard Vesta trying to hobble behind him. Tyrian out-skilled him on every level; having an extra limb just made it plain unfair.
"The Queen has been gracious to me," Tyrian said, narrowing his eyes. "No thanks to your friend. You'll find it's a little deadlier than the last: an upgrade, if you will."
With a sudden rush, Tyrian lunged. Jaune blocked the move past him, swinging his shield and triggering its hard-light barriers to stop Tyrian from getting to Vesta. With a quick bash he knocked the surprised scorpion faunus back. Tyrian re-focused on Jaune, as Jaune once again sidestepped into his path.
"Decent sport after all," Tyrian cackled. "Learnt any more tricks, boy?"
"A few," Jaune said. He had to buy time. Pyrrha said they were coming. He was outmatched, but he just had to hold on long enough for help to arrive. He just–
He had no more time to think, as Tyrian sprang forward again. Jaune blocked one thrust of the tail with his shield, and parried a slash from one of his wrist blades. The blades on Tyrian's other arm cut at Jaune's middle, checked only by aura and armour. Jaune was pushed back, step by step, as Tyrian assailed him, slicing and stabbing at him with stinger and steel.
"You've improved boy, but not by nearly enough," Tyrian jibed, before jumping onto Jaune's shield as he had when they'd met before. "You really–"
Jaune triggered the gravity dust in his shield, blasting Tyrian off and across the alleyway. The killer was thrown against the wall, whacking against it before he dropped to the ground.
His face showed little amusement as he stood up. "Now that's a nasty little toy. But tricks aren't enough to stop me boy. Are you prepared to show me what you're made of? Literally?"
Tyrian surged forward, cutting and slashing and slicing. Jaune parried one swing, blocked another, yet more got past as he fell back under the storm. His aura was wearing away, wearing thin. He tried to counterattack, swinging his sword into Tyrian's side, but Tyrian – leaning back to what seemed an impossible degree, evaded the blade and sprung upright once more. Tyrian's tail swung about; Jaune stopped with his shield, but left himself open to several slashes to his torso. Then the tail came back around. Jaune blocked it again, but this time the blow was powerful enough to knock him flying from his feet.
-000-
Winter and Marrow were both sitting in crash harnesses in the passenger cabin of a descending Manta when both their Scrolls began to chime. Marrow glanced at his commander, seeing her lips drawn into a tight line. Neither needed the alarm to be interpreted: it was an alert that a member of the team's aura had fallen into the red.
Hang on, Jaune, Marrow mentally urged.
-000-
Horns blared as Pyrrha sprinted across the street. She slid across the bonnet of one car, and somersaulted over another in the way. She cared little as drivers shouted and yelled at her, for the only noise she was cognisant of was the alarm blaring from her Scroll. She pushed herself forward, tearing down an alleyway at full speed. Please, she silently begged, although from whom she could not say. Please don't let me be too late.
-000-
Jaune groaned on the ground, feeling pain and weariness reach throughout his body. He could hear Tyrian's laughter and heard Vesta sobbing. She was helpless, he knew. The others hadn't made it. Only Tyrian's sadism had stopped her immediate death; nothing else would hinder it. Nothing other than he, a failure who'd cheated his way into Beacon.
But he was the only one who could stop this. He couldn't let someone be hurt, not if he could stand.
So he'll stand.
Taking hold of his sword, he surged up, his body glowing as he amped his own aura. Tyrian's head swivelled in shock just as Jaune plowed into him, knocking him away from away from the woman. He swung Crocea Mors almost wildly, striking the surprised scorpion faunus several times before Tyrian managed to parry the blade with those on his wrists. Tyrian locked the sword between his wrist blades, trying to pry it away. Jaune smashed him in the face with his shield, knocking him back. Only Tyrian's tail stopped Jaune from pressing home the attack, as he was forced to dodge its deadly lash.
"My, you are interesting!" the psychopath remarked. His wrist blades at the ready, the murderer tried to circle round Jaune,. Jaune moved sideways again, blocking his opponent from making a move on the innocent woman behind him.
"Yeah," Jaune scoffed. "I'm full of surprises."
He was ready for the lunge this time, deflecting the slash to his right as he slammed his shield forwards on his left. He ducked back to avoid the tail, then slashed with his own blade. But Tyrian was quicker, faster and more experienced. For every blow Jaune got in, Tyrian dealt several. He knocked Jaune's sword arm aside with one set of wrist blades as he levelled the other, opening fire with the guns concealed inside. The bullets ate at Jaune's aura as he flinched back.
"I've got some surprises of my own," Tyrian giggled. His tail stabbed out; Jaune knocked it aside with his shield. Tyrian pressed in as his arms glowed purple. Jaune swatted one limb aside with a swing of Crocea Mors, but for just a moment, Tyrian managed to grab hold of Jaune's right side. With a another blast from his shield, Jaune knocked Tyrian away. His aura felt funny, but he ignored the feeling as he stepped up, lashing out with his sword. Tyrian twisted away from the blow, then swung his left wrist blade in. To Jaune's shock, he felt a lance of fire as the wicked edge scraped along his side.
Jaune gasped as he stepped back, but Tyrian gave him little respite, slashing and stabbing at him. As Jaune desperately tried to turn aside the attacks, he brushed a hand against his flank. It came away red… he was bleeding. Somehow Tyrian had managed to disrupt his aura over that area, he could even feel it now. Fortunately armour had turned most of the blow aside, and Jaune amped his aura again, hoping it'd close the chink Tyrian had left in it. It was working, he was sure of it. Yet he needed time, and Tyrian gave him none. Jaune guarded his vulnerable flank, especially from that tail, but found the rest of his aura being whittled down under Tyrian's assault. It was just a matter of time…
-000-
Marrow looked incredulously at the screen of his Scroll, as the alarm went off a second time. To his amazement, Jaune's aura had somehow refilled. But it was getting torn down at a frightening rate. Once again it was in the red.
"How much longer?" Winter demanded.
"Three minutes!" the pilot called back. "We're practically falling at this rate."
"Fall faster!" she snapped.
Marrow slid his Scroll back into his uniform as he prepared for a combat drop. It did little good to watch something he was powerless to change. He only hoped they'd get there soon enough to make a difference.
-000-
Jaune hit the ground hard. He ached, he hurt, he was bleeding from several wounds now. He forced himself to roll, just missing Tyrian's stinger as it stabbed down, and shoved himself upward. He was amplifying his aura as much as he could, but he knew he was nearing some new limit.
He could well die here.
"It's a shame I have to kill you," Tyrian cackled. "You're just too much fun! But you really would feel less pain if you just stayed down."
"Never," he spat. For all that his body wanted to give up, he couldn't. It wasn't in him. He wouldn't give up and leave an innocent to this madman's mercy.
Tyrian seemed to find this endlessly amusing. "Are you that eager to suffer?"
Jaune didn't answer him. He simply raised his shield and slipped into position again.
Tyrian was on him in a moment, seeming to strike from all sides at the same time. Jaune managed to deflect one slash, and strike back against another, but then he was buffeted by a flurry of blows. He blocked one last thrust from Tyrian's tail with his shield, but his aura shattered under the impact as he was cast down.
He pushed himself up again, up onto his aching and wavering legs. Tyrian laughed all the harder, as Jaune turned could to would. He would die here. Was this what he'd planned, dying in some alley? Was this the Arc legacy he'd hoped to live up to? Was this what Pyrrha had wanted to do, when she'd thrown him in that damn locker and marched off to face Cinder?
He didn't know. But he knew couldn't turn away. He might not save his own life, but if he just brought a little more time, perhaps he could save the woman behind him. One life or a million, this was what a huntsman was called to do. And so he remained on his shaky feet, without aura, to stand between the innocent and the monsters around them.
"Why?" Tyrian seemed genuinely puzzled. "It's not going to do any good. You won't accomplish anything by it. You're all alone. There's no Qrow Branwen to step in and save you this time!"
Jaune barely had the breath to speak, and little patience to answer. Yet a flash of red at the end of the alleyway gave new life, kindling hope in his heart, and a spark in his mind.
"His tail is metal!" he yelled.
Tyrian's face scrunched in confusion. Too late did he turn, his eyes going wide, to see a figure approaching behind him, her arm outstretched. All too late did he see the black sheen around his cybernetic tail, before he was suddenly flung against one wall, then slammed against the other. Back and forth he was smashed against the opposites sides of the alleyway, as Pyrrha yanked him to and fro with her semblance.
"You bitch!" Tyrian shrieked. He grabbed a downpipe as he hit one of the walls. Clinging to it tightly, he levelled an arm and opened fire, forcing Pyrrha to slacken her hold.
A sudden scream caused Jaune to look up, his mouth dropping open as a Manta seemed to be falling towards them. Its engines roared to slow its descent, and then the side hatch opened, and two figures dropped out.
Help had come, just in time. He glanced at Tyrian, and saw the same realisation on the murderer's face. The scorpion faunus kept firing at Pyrrha, and then turned his arm in a new direction. Not towards the falling figures, nor Jaune himself, but towards his original target: Vesta Fialova.
Jaune pushed his aching limbs forward, running as he brought up his shield. Tyrian fired, but Jaune got there first, throwing himself in the way. The rounds struck his shield, rattling off it, while a couple of rounds grazed his arm. He fell heavily on the alley floor, gasping in pain, as Tyrian bolted, scampering up the pipe and away.
"Jaune!" Pyrrha cried, dashing over to him. She reached for his wounds, but he shook his head. "Check her," he grunted.
"I'm okay," the woman said in a jittery voice as she hobbling over. "Save for a twisted ankle. You… you saved my life!"
"What were you thinking, Jaune?" Pyrrha said, as she knelt to examine him. Her hands moved carefully to examine his injuries. "What were you doing?"
He gave a weak chuckle. "My job?"
"You're a maniac, bud. You know that, right?" Marrow said, stooping beside him to help Pyrrha. He let a low whistle. "A lucky one, though. Looks like it's just flesh wounds, and an aura that should have been spent several times over."
Jaune chuckled. "I wouldn't say no to a vacation."
"I'm sure a med bay is waiting for you," Winter said as she stepped into view. Vesta's eyes went wide at the sight of her, but Winter's attention was focused on the team. "He got away. Do we have anything to identify him?"
Jaune exchanged a glance with Pyrrha. "Yeah, we do," he said. "We know who he is: Tyrian Callows. Psychopath, murderer… and the Queen's direct underling."
Winter pursed her lips, then gave Jaune a small nod. "Then we have much to report."
Author's Note:
Another update! Much more swiftly than the last one! More on that below.
This ended up being a bit more of Jaune-centric chapter than originally planned, largely because of other elements being cut out that no longer fit and which were filler. As things pick up, there's rather less time for frolicking. Obviously when it came to Jaune's training with Vine I built on what we saw in the montage in V7, but rest assured, more is to come from that.
And Ciel's here! I do think it's a shame V7 never reintroduced Ciel (something the show itself seems to have given a nod to by having the Curious Cat mention her), and certain parts of this story just seemed to absolutely call for her. The recall following the riots felt like the perfect opportunity to reintroduce her. Obviously, she's no elaborated on in show, so I had to develop her, and I tried not to build on anyone else's concepts here. In fact, I almost tried desperately to avoid giving her a sniper rifle precisely because that's what the Ciel seen in ScipioSmith's 'SAPR' (also used in 'Spark to Spark, Dust to Dus't by Cody_MacArthur_Fett, Cyclone_Knight) had. As well-written as I consider that Ciel to be, this one is intended to be different. As it happens, however, a sniper rifle just seemed to fit both with her semblance and personality as I imagined them for this story.
Incidentally, since I'm not 100% certain how much it's going to get detailed in the story itself (though she has got much more of part to play), her weapon & semblance for this story are as follows:
Ciel's weapon:- Precision. A sniper rifle, capable of firing a variety of rounds, selectable upon voice command. Think of a Judge Dredd Lawgiver, but in the form of a sniper rifle.
Her semblance:- Punctuality. When active, Ciel experiences time differently, as everything else slows down, allowing her the time to aim and take her shots. Effectively bullet time.
This is also the second Jaune vs Tyrian duel I've ever written, and was actually planned out before I ever wrote the one in What Are You?. Of course – as anyone who's read that will know – that fight, with a Jaune who'd been through different circumstances, went very differently. This Jaune was definitely outmatched. But he's always been able to take a beating, especially with all he's learned. As for Pyrrha – as I remarked while writing Fallen Maiden – she seems especially dangerous against anyone with a great deal of metal in their bodies. Penny is a given, I wouldn't fancy Ironwood's chances, and unlike everyone else, Tyrian's chances against her actually drop once he has the cybernetic tail. As I remarked back then, its rather fitting that her most significant foe is the one who doesn't use metal at all.
We are also increasingly moving into new territory, where those little ripples are going to build up and make a difference. Tyrian's early unmasking will change things… not everything, because certain events have momentum, and the enemy can respond to. But events will increasingly diverge. On that note, this chapter should get some things moving I've had some readers devoutly wish would get moving… so stay tuned: next chapter a certain pair will finally get round to having a full and frank discussion!
I'm glad it only took me a month to get this out, rather than the full year it did the previous chapter. Sorry about that. As said, I've increasingly turned my attention to my own original fiction which I've begun to publish (look up 'Faith of the Wanderer' on Kindle if you've enjoyed my other stories, and 'The Hunters of Vypal' should be out soon), but I will continue this and aim to finish it. Aiming for a monthly update seems achievable, so the next chapter should be out in May!