Settled atop and within Beacon Tower's central spire sat the headmaster's office. During the day, vapor clouds assembled around the windows as though the workplace were placed above the sky. At night, this clutter cleared away to reveal a kingdom at the occupant's feet.
It was a heady feeling to occupy this position.
All encompassing. All seeing. All powerful.
To counteract the intoxication of power, the office was purposefully designed to enforce humility. Constant grinding and ticking from the decorative gears and clocks that lined the walls were reminders of important truths. Time was finite and kings did not exist anymore.
Separating the school grounds from the wild was a thin shell of walls and cliffs. Civilization was only hinted at by a dim glow on the horizon. Headmaster Ozpin peered out into the murky depths.
It stared back.
Watching. Waiting. Warning.
"Ozpin? Ozpin!"
He turned from the window to his active computer. Three shadows sat around a table. Two men and a woman. It was the middle man who had spoken.
"Yes, Councilman?"
"We asked for your opinion on this matter."
"Beacon has no official position on-"
"We asked for your opinion." The woman stressed.
Ozpin wanted to huff but held firm. He desired to be diplomatic. The Council tested his patience at the best of times, yet he refused to descend to their level.
"And once more I must stress that my institution, on principle, stays out of the affairs of the kingdom. The only exceptions are for those matters that affect readiness against the Grimm, huntsmen, or public education thereof."
The last of the Councilmembers spoke. "Surely this is tangentially related. Huntsmen and VPD do work hand-in-hand on occasion. Your input would be highly valued."
At face value, their argument had merit. If Ozpin thought the Council were speaking in good faith, he might be persuaded. But experience told him they were not.
They were trying to have the headmaster's position on their actions entered into the official record. If he was supportive, then they had a rubber stamp and someone to blame if the situation turned sour. If he was against, they had an obstructionist to rail against.
It was a lose-lose situation. Nothing could be gained. Because of this, Ozpin stuck with the politically neutral answer.
"Beacon Academy, of which I am its head, has no opinion on the appointment of a new Commissioner of Police. That is for the governing body of the Council to decide."
This deflection displeased them. They tried not to let this show. Ozpin pretended not to notice. Their attention instead turned to the other person on the call.
"What say you, Albano?"
A rectangular frame in the video feed's corner contained a man with a ponytail and a well-tanned face. As opposed to the others on the call, he sat in a well-lit room. The picture of him grew as he cleared his throat.
"With all due respect, y'all are making a huge mistake." The Prosecutor said.
Even though they had been seeking push back, the shadowy trio were blindsided by the directness of their chief legal officer. Truthfully, so was Ozpin.
"And why is that?" The Councilwoman asked.
"Permanently appointing Major Nadder is a rash move. Unlike your seats, the city charter does not prescribe guidelines on when a VPD Commissioner be chosen. Any deadline is self-imposed."
"True, but it is prudent that we fulfill our obligations of selecting a qualified candidate. Based on his resume alone, the Major is a natural successor. To delay based on the idea that some better candidate will appear out of nowhere is folly."
"I don't question his qualifications. I do question his temperament, judgment, and especially the moral turpitude of those that he surrounds himself with."
He paused to allow them to object. They did not. This was all the signal he needed to continue explaining.
"There have been rumors." Albano glanced down off screen at what must have been his notes. "While he himself has avoided scandal, Internal Affairs has opened multiple investigations into his direct reports for bribery and dereliction of duty. There is a 'culture of impunity' around the man. He values results over process."
"We value results, Albano." Came the forceful response.
Rather than be cowed, he pressed on. "But are they the right results? Because I have had my fair share of cases implode because of his officer's methods of gathering evidence."
That was an understandable objection. VPD could make as many arrests as they wanted, but it was ultimately the Council's Prosecutor who brought charges against defendants. Albano was made to look bad when he failed to secure a conviction.
This did little to sway the triumvirate.
"He has done well so far in rounding up the street gang behind the incident near the docks." The far-left shadow spoke. "I also understand that Nadder's men just arrested these so-called Flows' second-in-command and have uncovered links to the High-Rise Massacre. Are there any indications that these successes are compromised or hollow?"
Albano shuffled papers back and forth before letting out a long sigh. "No."
And thus, the consultation ended and voting began. The final tally was three to zero. Major Nadder would be promoted to Commissioner of Police for the city of Vale.
The Council would announce its decision in the morning. Albano was quiet. He still objected but excused himself soon after the vote. He claimed to have a mound of paperwork to attend to. No one called him on it.
With the main agenda item settled, the meeting soon wrapped up. The working group stayed on to discuss other security matters with Ozpin, mostly out of politeness. Minor details for upcoming holidays and festivities that could have waited until another time.
Then they adjourned for the evening.
As the screen winked out, Ozpin sank in his chair. He groaned as he rubbed the bags under his eyes. It had been a long day. Tomorrow would be even longer. There was an initiation for him to proctor in the morning.
As headmaster, it was usually up to him to welcome the aspirants. He had to delegate those duties to Glynda that day. Doing so again would not be fair to her.
Or them.
He liked to ease the children into the life of a huntsman. Glynda was not nearly as lenient. He imagined there were quite a few tears shed in his absence from the more rambunctious freshmen.
As he stood, his back popped. Pins and needles ran up his spine, making him groan. Grabbing his silver handled walking stick, he entered the opened elevator. The lights in his office went out automatically as the doors slid shut.
He lifted his cane to the control panel. Pushing down on the knuckle guard, the gears inside The Long Memory glowed yellow and spun. The elevator began to move the only direction it could; Downward.
One by one, the buttons on the panel lit up. Each one numbered a floor of Beacon Tower. Lower and lower he went. Even after reaching ground level — nominally the last floor — the elevator kept on descending.
Down. Down. Down. Down.
At last, the elevator stopped. The door opened to a wide, underground basement. Ozpin's footsteps echoed in the cavernous opening.
At the far end of the darkened, artificial cave was the only source of illumination. Laying at an angle was a cylinder of metal and glass. As the headmaster closed in, he heard the familiar beeping of a heart and lung machine.
Standing in front of the medical equipment, his own heart caught in his throat. Condensation had accumulated on the glass front of the tube. He wiped it away with his sleeve to peer inward.
Enclosed was a brown-haired woman. She was dressed in white pants and a strapless top to allow the therapeutically sustaining equipment access to vital areas. Her face was pinched and sweaty, as though experiencing a nightmare.
He shuffled over to a rolling chair in the corner. In the seat was a thick storybook. He picked it up and wheeled the seat to be beside the tube.
Midnight approached. They had an hour or two to spend together before he had to retire for the evening. That was if he wanted any chance of being a functioning adult on the morrow. Sitting, he thumbed through pages until he reached the bookmark from the previous night.
When last they had left off, the main character, a misguided girl with a penchant for trouble, had arrived in the court of an important nobleman. Despite the kindness she was shown, her distrustful nature led her astray. She had goaded the royal into a high-stakes board game.
Ozpin read aloud. "'The next move is yours. Choose any you like.' The Red King jollily rumbled. 'The only wrong move is not to play.'"
Based on the descriptions used, the game they played appeared to be a modified version of chess. In which case, there very much were wrong moves. The King was just too naive to see them. The girl was very much not.
This was Ozpin's least favorite part of the story.
"Alyx gazed upon the board and schemed."
III. Day One
"My, what a handsome list." Cinder Fall cooed from her comfy couch.
Displayed on a Scroll was a shipping manifest. Listed within were the schedules for all cargo moving through Vale for the next week. The transports containing significant amounts of Dust were highlighted.
Mercury Black entered from the kitchen with a tea tray. "Y'know, I had my doubts. But Kingsnake really came through."
He set the caddy down on the end table before taking a seat to her right. Cinder reached for the warm pot and poured a healthy amount of the brew. Before raising the cup to her mouth, she smirked at him.
"Afraid you would have to make another home visit?"
"Not at all. Hardly broke a sweat last time." Mercury snorted. "When you hear 'Commissioner of Police,' you think of a big shot who lives in a mansion with a legion of guards. Instead, I got a hermit in a townhouse. He practically pushed himself down those stairs."
Indeed. Cinder herself was astonished at the ease of fulfilling Major Nadder's request. She had expected it would take weeks for the youthful assassin to take his target out. Instead, Mercury was able to determine a line of attack and exploit it in short order.
The ease of the operation did cause Cinder some concern. She had briefly wondered if they had been set up. Afterall, if a coup d'état was this simple to achieve, why had the supposedly powerful Division failed to install their own person as head of VPD previously?
But these troubles were allayed with the arrival of the manifest. Nadder was upholding his end of the grand bargain. They now had the delivery routes of every SDC convoy through the air and by ground.
Targets were only half of the equation. A certain group still needed to go out and hit them. Getting this manifest into White Fang hands as soon as possible was paramount.
"Ma'am?" Emerald appeared by her side. "We have a… guest."
Cinder smirked. "Show them in."
"Right away." The green-haired girl grimaced before entering the hallway.
A moment later, she returned with their visitor. The woman known as Trifa nodded before sitting opposite Cinder. Emerald continued to stand, awaiting permission to join. Mercury, despite how he tried to play it off, also appeared interested in what was going on.
Their boss had other ideas. "Would you give us the room?"
"Sure." Mercury grunted and stood. "Come on, Em."
She wanted to argue. The nickname Mercury had granted her had to be chief among them. Yet, Emerald knew better than to show disunity in their ranks with a guest present. With a pout, she turned and left the room.
Alone now, Cinder spoke. "Welcome, Trifa. Your timing is impeccable."
"In what way?"
Cinder set the Scroll on the table and slid it across to Trifa. She drank her tea as the spider faunus glanced over the display. Her nose wrinkled at the taste.
Mercury had many uses. Brewing was not one of them.
"Do you believe you and yours can make use of this?" Cinder asked as she set the nasty concoction aside.
"I believe so." Trifa nodded with a small smile.
"There are caveats." At this, the smile evaporated. "You may only target shipments around or before they reach the city limits. Our continued access to shipping lane data, as well as any last-minute schedule updates, requires that you abide by this rule."
Trifa tilted her head. "I assume whoever is providing this information has a vested interest in us not repeating our last operation inside Vale?"
"A fair assumption."
"Can we know who?"
"That is best left to me." Cinder leaned across the table to touch Trifa's arm in both reassurance and as a threat. "It will allow you a veneer of deniability."
The faunus considered this. "Very well. I can convince Elder of the tactical advantage of restricting our people's actions to outside the city."
"And Adam?"
"Elder will convince him."
The inner workings of the White Fang were, as always, murky. The masked lieutenant was surprisingly influential. Much more so than Cinder would have guessed based on his gruff demeanor alone.
Strong arming the group had gathered mixed results. The White Fang did what was asked of them, but Cinder was under no illusions. They would take the first opportunity available to untangle themselves from her.
Which was what made Trifa valuable. She was the key to understanding the reluctant ally. Locking down her support was key to keeping the White Fang within the turbulent coalition.
"Then I will leave the matter in your capable hands." Cinder leaned back. "If that is all-."
"Actually, there is something else." Trifa seemed unsure until given the go ahead. "Returning to the matter of our last operation, we encountered an unknown assailant of huntress-level skill. We repelled them, but at a heavy cost in terms of Dust and injuries."
"Yes. Emerald informed me."
The green-haired girl had taken great pleasure in relaying the information. Almost as much as Cinder experienced upon her betrayed look when she praised the White Fang for handling the unexpected obstacle. Emerald really was too easy to rile up.
"We have not made progress in directly identifying the attacker. I do not believe they are a huntress. Their demeanor and actions lead me to believe they are a member of a gang. A lack of local knowledge hinders us."
"You would like our help in locating them."
Trifa nodded. "We cannot allow them to interfere again."
An understandable stance. Because the White Fang did not understand the motive behind the attack, there was no way of telling when, or if, the aggressor would return. This was a threat that needed to be neutralized.
"Do you have a description?"
"I can do one better." Trifa pulled a folded paper from her vest pocket. "After the fight, I was able to create this likeness. We made multiple copies and distributed them to our operatives. Here."
The paper exchanged hands. "You are an artist?"
"A minor hobby of mine that occasionally intersects with my job."
"How resourceful."
Cinder shifted her posture to settle back into the couch. To keep up appearances, she drank more of the over-steeped tea while straightening out the sketch of their shared foe. She had to fight to keep the drink down.
And not just because of the taste.
Trifa was quite skillful in her reproduction. Captured on the paper in vibrant watercolors was the attacker. Most impressive was the likeness in the face. Perfectly sketched was the unmistakable and unnerving stare of Neopolitan.
"We do have a lead." Trifa continued. "Although this woman conducted the main assault, there was also a man present. He was positively identified as a thief of some renown."
The drawing charred in Cinder's hands.
/ / /
Dawn brought a new day to Beacon Academy. Day one for the assembled aspiring huntsmen. A gentle forenoon of great consequence.
Yet the morning's prisoners did not come along quietly. Daybreak pulled them kicking and screaming into the light. The children moved gingerly about, readying themselves for the challenges ahead.
Roman Torchwick lazily floated by, unseen and unheard. He did not know exactly where his own wannabe do-gooder was, but he had a general direction. Whenever he existed outside of the teen, he felt a 'tug' in a particular direction. One that grew stronger with distance.
It was a peculiar sensation. Not painful. He was not sure he could feel pain anymore. More like a building pressure within his being. The sensation was so light that Roman had not noticed at first. It was only a few nights ago that the pull had become too acute to ignore.
This had occurred while he was traveling the nocturnal streets of Vale. Since Roman no longer slept, he required mental stimulation while everyone else snoozed. His ability to phase through solid walls now made urban exploration more efficient.
While surveying downtown's side streets, the feeling had grown to the point of irritation. Once he started advancing towards the pull, the tension decreased like a rubber band. While interesting, Roman was unwilling to stretch it too far. Instinct told him he would not like the results.
Whatever circumstances had brought the thief and the boy together had bound them thoroughly.
Far from discouraging, Roman was reassured. There were rules to this binding. And if there were rules, there were ways of subverting or bending them to his advantage. It was just a matter of discovering what they were.
He now used his 'rubber-band' sense to find Jaune. This brought Roman to his second locker room in as many days. He located his target wandering the rows of metal storage containers with a perplexed and lost expression.
The teen latched on to the spirit's return. "There you are!"
"Here I am." Roman did a barrel roll. "So? What's the story, morning glory?"
"My gear!" Jaune exclaimed. "I can't find the locker I stored it in! Oh, why did this have to happen today!"
"You're in luck. I can lead you. Follow me."
What Roman failed to mention before taking off was how he knew where the gear was. This was because he had spent all night cataloging the contents of each and every locker. All in an attempt to find something of value to steal.
Ultimately, this proved fruitless. There was nothing of interest.
No lien. No gems. No precious metals.
The entire school was likely bereft of value. It was Roman's personal purgatory.
In time, the spirit led the boy to the correct location. Jaune's locker was the third one down on the leftmost wall. When the door was opened, the metal bundle of white and black was hung within on a rack. His sword was pushed through the center, with the hilt sticking out the top.
"There we are. Don't go saying I never did anything for you."
"You're a lifesaver. Thanks!" Jaune said as he got to changing.
Slinging the backpack on his shoulders, he pulled the straps. The armor shifted over his body as expected. The most evident difference was the coloration. All hints of purple had been removed and replaced with a rich golden hue. In the same pigment, a minor double crescent was painted over where the heart was located on the chest plate.
Less obvious was the addition of a thick fauld around the waist. Each section of the fauld was the equivalent of a pocket on a utility belt. Pressing one caused a compartment to pop open to expose a set of yellow goggles. Jaune fastened the eye protection to the top of his head, nestling the rims in his hair.
Also of interest was a groove running from his left forearm to the back of the cuirass. Clipped between his shoulders was the sheathed sword. Clenching his glove, the weapon slid along the track before stopping at his wrist. When he pulled the sword free, his shield automatically deployed.
Based on looks alone, Roman would have thought Jaune was a serious huntsman candidate. The lad certainly looked the part now. Unfortunately, Roman knew this was all a facade.
Still, he had to applaud Mr. Ferrous. His design was top notch. When Jaune inevitably failed to be accepted into Beacon, he would not be able to say he was underequipped.
"Got everything?"
"Let's see. Shield up. Shoes tied." Jaune looked up as he returned everything to carry mode. "Ready to roll."
Despite saying so, he was plainly not ready. A small twitch of the lips belied his nervousness. The kid was about to be tossed into the deep end of the pool without a set of floaties.
Not that Roman cared. "After you."
There was a call over the intercom reminding the potential students to assemble by the cliffs overlooking the Emerald Forest. Jaune was making for the exit when he suddenly went stock still. Ahead of them were two girls conversing around an open locker.
"-we could be on a team together." One of the ladies said to the other.
"Well, that sounds grand!"
He stood there for a few moments more. Another boy with short, burnt orange hair and heavy armor shoulder-checked him before cussing and moving on. Jaune barely flinched.
"What's going on with-" Roman asked before doing a double take.
The first female was Weiss Schnee. The same girl who had stupefied Jaune the day before. He was now boldly walking toward them, determined to play the fool again. Roman really did not want to witness that dance again and was about to say so.
But it was too late.
"You know what else is grand?" Jaune said, injecting his limp personality into the middle of the discussion. "Me. Jaune Arc. How do you do?"
Weiss was less than impressed. "Can I help you?"
"Ooh. So close! You should be asking 'how can you help me?' Go ahead. The answer may surprise you."
The white-haired girl glared. The person she was originally conversing with, a leggy redhead, was more receptive. She spoke with a polite tone.
"How can you help us, Jaune?"
Calculating green eyes scanned Jaune up and down. Her armor was light, consisting of polished bronze plates stretched over reddish, two-piece athletic gear. Crimson locks were pulled into a tight ponytail with a burnished circlet holding back her bangs.
There was something about that girl specifically. Something familiar. Roman knew her, but he was not sure how or from where.
"You were talking about teams, right? I know a team that would be the perfect place for lovely ladies such as yourselves."
"I'm sure." Weiss rolled her eyes. "And what team would that be?"
"Team Nora!" Someone exclaimed from the side.
They all turned to see the named girl enter into the chat. She had popped up beside Jaune, vibrating in place. Glee poured out of her while she soaked in the attention.
"Team… Nora?"
"Yep yep! My team! The best team." She pulled the blond boy in for a side hug. "Decided to do a little recruiting, eh? Even though you told me and Renny that you were only going to grab your stuff? Looking good, by the way."
"Y-yeah. I got side-tracked." Jaune fidgeted.
"You do that a lot. Oh well! As team leader, I'll approve." She released him before addressing the two other girls. "We only have one slot available, though. You'll have to audition if you want to be part of the greatest squad ever."
"What!?" This earned Weiss' immediate ire. "I am a Schnee! We do not audition for-"
"That makes things easy. Thanks!" Nora turned to the third girl and smiled. "Looks like you win by default! Welcome aboard."
"Me? Oh. Well. If that is how it is, I would not mind-"
Weiss stood boldly between them. "Stop! I will not be pushed aside and mocked like this!"
"Oh? How would you like to be pushed aside and mocked?" Was Nora's cheeky response.
"Listen here." The heiress poked the orphan in the chest. "I was having a private consultation with a dear acquaintance before you jackanapes so rudely interrupted. You two will leave us in peace, or so help me-"
"Ah ha! I knew I recognized that voice." Announced a new arrival.
Wading in was the other half of yesterday's almost-a-donnybrook in the courtyard. Roman recalled her name as Yang. This arrival drew Weiss' attention like a moth to a flame.
"Great! Another one! Will these interruptions ever cease?"
"Chill out, princess. Just came over to see what got you all twisted. I thought Ms. G whipped that sour attitude out of you yesterday. She certainly punished me well enough."
"Professor Goodwitch did not lay a hand on us." Weiss snapped, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Don't you dare spread such scandalous slander saying otherwise!"
"Kidding! Though you seem a tad literal minded. Anything you would like to share with the rest of the class?" Yang winked.
Gritting her teeth, Weiss stepped up to the taller girl. Yang held her ground with a cocked hip. The red head tried playing peacemaker by talking them down. Little success was made as they pushed further into each other's personal space.
Roman had seen enough. "As riotous as this is, shouldn't you get going?"
The boy jolted, having forgotten. He tapped Nora on the shoulder. She likewise had been mesmerized by the slow-motion car crash occurring in front of them.
"Ren is probably waiting for us."
"You're right! He must be inconsolable without his Nora around!"
"I wouldn't say th-ah!"
She grabbed a pauldron and yanked Jaune away. Roman glanced back to see if this had any effect on the bickering birds. They did not even notice them leaving. He shrugged and floated after his host.
"Look at you!" Nora gushed. "Shooting for the moon with Pyrrha flipping Nikos! Bold plays like that make me think we should go by 'Team Jaune' instead."
The boy blinked. "Which one was Pyrrha Nikos? The person that Weiss was talking to?"
"Yep! You were recruiting the best fighter in our class. She's legit. I used to sneak into packed theaters with Renny to watch replays of her winning tournaments. Against actual adults too, not just those our age."
"She's that big of a deal, huh?"
"Practically royalty back home."
"Wow."
That bit of background helped Roman understand where he had heard of Nikos. He did not pay much attention to pop culture, but he did mind the occasional celebrity. Mostly to keep tabs on those with too much lien so that he might perform a public service in relieving them of their heavy burdens.
Her name must have crossed his mind as a potential mark. That she was so highly regarded in that cesspool known as Mistral was doubly appealing. Stealing from her would have made him money and spat in that kingdom's face.
Ultimately, he must have decided against trying her. The risk was either too high or the reward too little. Perhaps more of the former than the latter if Nikos was as good as advertised.
Leaving the locker room area behind, Jaune and Nora were directed to a gateway by a person in white puffy pants and a lavender shirt. A conical, pointy-tipped hat protected their long silver hair from bleaching further under the sun. They used a long staff with a dreamcatcher on the top to assist them with standing.
Roman pegged them as a huntsman. They were too sure of themselves to be a student. He was tempted to investigate the keys that hung from their belt but decided to stay with Jaune.
They came to a stone arch. A set of stairs elevated beyond a keystone shaped like an arrow. The steps were a shortcut to the overhanging cliffs. Hovering around, and looking out of place, was the red-caped bane of Roman's non-existence.
"Jaune!" Red called, zooming over to them.
"Hey!" He greeted her. "What are you doing out here? Figured you would already be at the cliffs."
"Waiting on Yang. She stayed behind to brush her hair. I, uh, didn't want to go up there by myself."
"Ah, well…" Jaune sidestepped explaining what her sister was really up to. "Want to tag along with us then? The more the merrier."
"Sure!" She chirped before going wide-eyed and grabbing his sword arm. "Oh my gosh! Is that modified Atlesian soldier armor! It is! You even incorporated your primary weapon into the layout! Wait, this color scheme… Is this that backpack you were lugging around!? How did you ensure that mech-shifting did not impact the overall integrity?"
Covetous hands pressed down on the seams around the vambrace. A maintenance latch opened. Soon enough, she was poking and prodding at naked skin.
"Wow! Slow down!" Jaune's voice cracked.
Realizing what she was doing, she shirked back. "Sorry! I'm a bit of a weapon's nut."
"It's fine. I don't know much about how it was built since I hired a smithy, but I can let you look over the schematics later."
"Score!"
After showing a remarkable amount of restraint, Nora made herself known. "Who's this, Jauney?"
She surged forward. Despite being of a similar stature, her gregarious personality overwhelmed the demure lass. Red wanted to back away, but there was no chance of fleeing now.
"H-hey. I'm Ruby. Nice to meet you?"
A long moment passed. Nora's lips and eyebrows quirked up and up. Cheeks inflated with air before blowing.
"Cuuuuuutieeee." Escaped from her lips like steam through a train whistle.
"Huh?"
Arms immediately encircled Red. Before she knew what was occurring, her tiny body was pulled into a tight embrace. Little arms waved around in terror as her face was squashed into the other girl's chest.
"You're so adorable, I could die!" Nora wailed.
"W-what's happening!? Who are you?" Came a muffled response. "Let me go!"
"Hush now! Just call me Big Sis Nora."
"But, but, but..." Ruby stuttered while struggling to break free. "I already have an older sister!"
"Now you'll have two! Isn't that great!"
"I can barely handle the one I have!"
Nora continued laughing as her newly pressed-into-service sibling struggled. "Forget Pyrrha Nikos. You can be on our team! Then I can hug and squeeze you like this, forever!"
"Nooooooo!" Was the pitiful reply.
As this was going on, Jaune appeared conflicted. Whenever he seemed close to breaking them up, he stopped himself. Nora's exuberance was clearly giving him second thoughts of inserting himself into the middle of that madness.
With the children otherwise occupied, Roman had a chance to slip back into Jaune and deliver a message. Probably the most important message yet. On the off chance that they were accepted into Beacon, one thing had to happen.
Or rather, not happen.
"Under no circumstances are you to allow her onto your team."
"Aren't you being too harsh?" Jaune whispered. "She might be a bit much, but you've seen how strong Nora is."
"Not the chatterbox. The other one."
"Ruby?" Roman chose to growl in affirmation. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing major. She's just responsible for my incorporeality."
"Incorp-er, what?"
"She killed me."
"What!?" Jaune sputtered.
This outburst caused Nora to cease the cuddle session. "You alright?"
Red, sadly, was released. She pushed away from Nora to dramatically fall to her knees and gasp for air. After rebounding, her chrome-tinted eyes were trained on Jaune. The clearing of a throat saved him from having to respond.
Wandering in was a man aided by a modest cane. His slim black suit and rounded glasses afforded him the pomp and circumstance of an infirmed accountant. Despite first impressions, Roman knew of Headmaster Ozpin.
"Such youthful energy. How… wasteful." Ozpin sighed tiredly. "I would suggest saving that zeal for your upcoming tasks. That is, if you still wish to be huntsmen."
"Of course we do!" Red exclaimed.
Jaune and Nora were just as quick to declare their intentions. Ozpin's mouth twitched. His attempt at rattling them had failed.
If that had even been his intention.
As competent as the gentleman thief was at reading people, Roman was unsure of the headmaster. Ozpin had an unsettling presence. One that transcended the barrier of life and death. It screamed that he was not to be trifled with.
"Very good." He said as he strode towards the archway. "It is always a shame to see promising candidates fail before attending a single class. Do your best, now. My colleagues and I shall be watching you all carefully."
Apprehension passed between the group. Nevertheless, they were quick to follow Ozpin. Roman was just along for the ride.
And to pick up the pieces when everything fell apart.
