"You say you were in an explosion?" Mr. Ferrous asked incredulously.

On his workbench was the armor set he had serviced only days earlier. Where once was polished white and gold was now muck and grime. The older man brought down an overhead magnifier for a better look.

Jaune laughed awkwardly. "It was an accident. I was mixing Dust and sneezed."

Ferrous tapped a scratch with a brush. "Oh yeah. That stuff is a well-known nasal irritant. If you plan on working with Dust long term, you may want to invest in some filtering equipment."

"That's…" The boy touched a finger to his chin. "Not a bad idea, actually. Do you know where I can get some?"

The weapon maker had a small grin. This is what he had been working towards: Upselling.

"I happen to make respirator masks. Let me wrap up here and I'll show you the selection."

Roman Torchwick floated about the weapons shop in boredom. Here they were again, fixing up armament after a life-and-afterlife struggle. They were becoming regular fixtures at Ferrous Works.

He wondered if they should move in. It would be a cramped living arrangement. But they would save money on airfare.

Unfortunately, that was not going to be an option. Despite Roman's best efforts, Jaune was stuck as a student at Beacon Academy. And there was nothing to be done. Not without losing the teen's cooperation.

To say that the thief was annoyed was an understatement. Around the clock classes and physical training were not conducive to running a criminal enterprise. Certain actions could be delegated to Neo and the goons. However, there were several activities that had to be handled personally.

Visiting an 'armorer' had been their best excuse for getting away from Jaune's bothersome teammates. With Beacon delaying the start of the semester, they had a narrow window to handle their business. So, Roman was going to make the best of it.

"So what do you think? Can you fix it up?" Jaune asked with uncertainty.

"Will take a bit of elbow grease, but it's doable. Give me a day to buff the metal and reapply the paint job. I should also retest the shifting servos. The blast may have knocked something loose." Ferrous binned the armor before turning around. "How about your sword?"

"No damage there, thankfully."

"Good. I've been examining the scans I took last time." The weapon maker leaned back to press a button on his workstation. A blue hologram of the sword appeared. "Out of curiosity, when was the blade forged?"

"A long time ago. It was originally my great-great grandfather's."

"That would put the creation date around, what? Eighty years ago? Ninety? The Great War period?" The boy nodded. "You should be careful. The metal is already showing signs of strain, heading towards failure."

"When you say failure-"

"I mean it may shatter."

Ferrous pressed another button. The projected weapon disintegrated from the middle out. Jaune looked like he had swallowed a lemon.

"That's-what can we do?"

"Keeping the blade clean and stored properly will help. There are also some treatments I can perform to reinforce the carbon bonds. However, the low-quality composition and advanced age means core integrity will always be an issue."

"How long do we have before a, uh, failure occurs?"

"Not immediately. Could happen a year from now. Could be a decade. I'm alerting you to the possibility so that you may plan accordingly."

The teen's shoulders sagged. "Y-yeah. Good to know… Thanks."

"Of course. I always have my client's best interests at heart." There was a gleam behind his eyes. "That said, if you need a new or secondary weapon, let me know. I'm more than happy to supply one."

They were back to upselling.

The master thief wondered how much of that story about the blade possibly shattering was even true. Ferrous was part genius and part grifter, after all. Roman could respect the salesman tactics but found them vexing when applied to him and his ward.

"I'll keep that in mind." Roman said after slipping back into Jaune's body. "By the way, did you get a chance to look over that tech the boys brought over?"

They had recently come into possession of a van full of expensive-looking equipment. The vehicle had been a part of their escape from the High Fly Flows rumble. After pressing two hoods into service, they had to figure out what to do with their escape vehicle.

Not knowing what it was, they decided to get a professional's opinion. Namely, Mr. Ferrous. He had already shown himself adept at understanding unknown technology.

"Sure did." Another button projected a model of the van's interior. "Definitely Atlas tech. There were papers inside with the VPD logo, though. Must have been on loan. I believe it was used to eavesdrop on electronic transmissions."

"What makes you say that?"

Ferrous pointed to a series of circles embedded in the van's paneling. "This right here is similar to the antennas used in a CCTS substation. While not communicating as far, it transmits along similar frequencies as most Scrolls."

Jaune grasped the significance. "So it tricks people into connecting to the van instead of the CCTS?"

"Exactly." Ferrous leaned close and whispered. "Between you and me, kid, there are folks in Mistral that would give an arm and a leg for this kind of capability."

"Yeah, but whose arm and leg?" Before Jaune could respond, Roman took over. "What are you getting at?"

"If you want, we could sell this to them under the table and split the profits."

"Why Mr. Ferrous... Are you suggesting we go behind my boss's back?" Roman tutted.

"It was merely a suggestion!" The gunsmith back peddled. "Surely, he has no use for this equipment. And Spider has huge bounties on Atlas tech. Huge! Of course we would wet Torchwick's beak, though we would need to disguise who we were selling to."

That was good advice. There was no love lost between Torchwick and Spider. Roman would have backhanded Ferrous for suggesting such a sale to his face.

But he would let it go in this case.

Ferrous was simply hustling. The tinkerer had no way of knowing the extent of the bad blood. Plus, he did not want to burn any of 'Jay's' bridges.

"Let's keep that little suggestion between the two of us. It would only upset Roman. Besides, I foresee this tech coming in handy at some point."

"Very well." Ferrous sighed at losing the opportunity. "I'll see what I can do about setting this up in a non-vehicle configuration. I did not find a tracker, but the van is surely on a watch list. Maybe I can create a portable rig? Hmm…"

He began writing on a nearby notepad. Before Ferrous could become too absorbed in his thoughts, Roman cleared Jaune's throat. There was one other matter to discuss. Something that this Atlas tech had brought to the forefront of his mind.

"Back to the armor now. I got a chance to test out the goggles and they worked like a dream. One problem though. Could we get that STRATOS thing moved over to a different Scroll?"

While the device from his apartment had served them well, it was only supposed to be a temporary solution. A burner was meant to be disposable. The thief was nervous about keeping the defense system inside a Scroll that could be tied to a crime scene.

Also, if VPD could eavesdrop at will, they needed to be extra careful. Before, switching Scrolls had been a product of waxing and waning paranoia. Now they had proof validating the practice.

"Certainly. Do you have the replacement ready to go?"

"Yeah." Roman said before nudging Jaune internally. "Give them to him."

The boy handed over two rectangular objects. One was red while the other white. Beacon had supplied this second device.

Evidently, the academy had their own specialized Scrolls designed specifically for combat. They were tougher and worked over longer ranges than civilian models. Students were expected to use them for Huntsman-related activities.

What better place to store a combat program?

"This should not take long." Ferrous laid the Scrolls next to each other on the table. "I had to do this for those goggles. The software is amazingly adaptable."

He opened them and muddled around in the interfaces. A few seconds later, the Beacon Scroll's screen flashed the STRATOS logo before disappearing. The burner, meanwhile, was now blank.

Ferrous nodded. "See? Nothing to-"

There was another flash on the Beacon Scroll. A system status box had appeared. On the screen was a progress bar that slowly spun beneath some text.

'Verified server detected! Sync in progress.'

All present wordlessly stared at the message. They each were perplexed. It was Jaune who articulated what they were all thinking.

"What, uh, what does that mean?"

"Not sure. A firmware update, maybe?"

Roman did the equivalent of a mental shrug. It probably was not important. Not when compared to everything else going on.

/ / /

"Dr. Polendina?"

Said doctor startled up from his computer. "Just resting my eyes!"

A lone piece of paper fell from his face. He readjusted his glasses and rubbed a sore spot. There were slight indents in the skin from him using a keyboard as a pillow.

His lab on Atlas had no windows. This left him with no idea how late it was. They must have been in the evening because no one else was around. No one, but the artificial being made of hard light to his left. So as to not strain his neck, he directed his chair around to face her.

She then repeated. "Doctor? A network alert has been triggered."

"Ah? Uh, which one?" He croaked.

"A device in the Beacon IoT cloud has connected to the secured sections of the CCTS. Its signature contains flags from the Strategy Operating System."

If he had not been awake before, Pietro was now. "Really?"

He had not expected much to come of that tripwire. If the STRATOS user was still out there, it was highly unlikely they would connect back to the CCTS using a privileged device. Especially if they had not done so previously.

It had been a pure 'cover-your-rear-end' move on his part. He was glad he had done so. Missing this would have been a blunder.

CAI continued. "The device is now requesting permission to partition a server."

"What? How?" He shook his head. "Why?"

"The device requests permission to partition a server. This request was sent using administrator credentials. The reason is unclear but there are conditional requests for data relating to the Accessibility Dialogue Assistant and my own API."

Pietro felt a headache coming on. "What do we make of these actions? Are they harmful?"

"Threat vector models have deemed the request a low probability of malicious intent. It is not attempting to gain root access despite the credentials."

She had mentioned that they had administrator rights. That had nearly slipped past his sleep-addled mind. There were very few people with that kind of access. All of them were currently in Atlas and Argus, not Vale.

"Whose credentials did they use?" Or steal, as was more likely.

"The credentials belong to Arthur Watts."

The doctor could have stood at that information. "That can't be right. Arthur is… His information should have been removed from the system."

"The token was marked for deletion. However, the routine was never followed through. Do you wish for me to do so now?"

"No." They did not want to lose this window of opportunity. "Allow access while keeping an eye on them."

The hologram processed the request before replying. "I apologize, Dr. Polendina. I do not understand. What action do you wish me to take?"

Pietro blinked before chuckling. He had forgotten that CAI was not a person. The language model was not advanced enough to fully understand every nuance of speech. So, he reformulated his words to be more precise.

"Please log all actions taken by the STRATOS device. If any malevolent activities are detected, isolate the affected machines. This includes any attempts to expand or copy restricted information without first asking permission."

"Affirmative."

He then thought of something else. "Do we have the origin's protocol address?"

It was a long shot. Any hacker worth their Dust would have spoofed the address. Or, if less advanced, stolen a device. But there was always the chance someone was sloppy.

"Transmitting now."

His terminal pinged. Bringing up the message, he viewed the scraped metadata. Immediately, he could tell that the device was still in use. Checking the database, it was a Scroll recently issued to a Beacon Academy student.

Beyond that, Pietro was stuck. Atlas did not have access to Beacon's student roster. It was considered private information.

He leaned back in his chair, considering his options. General Ironwood could obtain the information. Unfortunately, James was rather heavy-handed and noisy. They did not want to scare off the STRATOS user.

This required a lighter touch. Luckily, Pietro knew the right person for the job. He picked up his Scroll and made a call.


XII. Bad for Business


"Hey! Are you ready!?" Leroy yelled while beating on a door.

"Just a sec."

The former night guard huffed before walking to a bench. He plopped down beside Neopolitan. His handler tilted her head, questioningly. After a week of trial and error, he had started to pick up her non-verbal cues.

"I don't know."

Tommy had excused himself to use a portable restroom. The three of them had been walking around downtown when nature had called. That had occurred half an hour ago.

Leroy had begun to wonder if the other man had fallen in the toilet. If so, the faunus would have left him there. The insides of those stalls were beyond gross.

Eventually, the occupied indicator on the door turned from red to green. Out came the green haired man. After a stretch, he stumbled slightly before approaching his compatriots.

"Alrighty." Tommy clapped. "LFG, baby! LFG!"

Leroy raised a brow behind his shades. "You good?"

"I was born for this."

"Could have fooled me."

"Whaddaya mean?"

They both had started the day off with two freshly pressed gray suits. The idea was to look their best for a meeting with Hei Xiong. Leroy still presented as well put together. Tommy did not.

His jacket was dusty, his shoes no longer gleamed, and his hair was oily. That time wasted in the stall had not been used to touch up his appearance. Leroy reached over to fix the man's askew tie. That was when he noticed Tommy's bloodshot and glassy eyes.

"You didn't…" Leroy sighed, already knowing Tommy, in fact, did.

"Don't catch your meaning." He strode up to Neo. "So, how are we playing this? We distract Junior while you sneak around and stab him in the kidneys?"

The homicidal mute seemed intrigued. She stroked her chin in contemplation. Leroy headed those ideas off in a hurry.

"No one is stabbing anyone. We just want info."

Namely, they were after information on the White Fang. If any human were to know about them, it would be Junior. Roman had apparently already worked out an agreement. The three of them were meant to collect.

And this had Tommy spooked. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. Luckily, I got some of the good stuff in me. Won't even feel that shiv going in."

"That's not a positive development." Leroy huffed, before pulling out an extra pair of shades to put on his associate. "We don't need you fluttering about like a hummingbird. When we arrive, I want you to stand back and look tough. Leave all the talking to me."

"Da." Tommy sniffed. "Who else would do the talking? Neo?"

He had a point.

They traveled as a unit down the sidewalk. People who saw them coming stepped out of the way. Two refrigerator-sized men led around by a skipping girl gave the correct impression that trouble was afoot.

Arriving at the Club, they found the dancehall empty except for a lone bartender. Just the one they were after, too. Junior looked up from cleaning a mug as they pulled out the barstools.

"Oh hell no."

Both Leroy and Tommy stopped in their tracks and instead squared themselves. Neo paid no heed. She merrily hopped into a seat. Leroy started with a compliment.

"You look well, Junior."

"Did you remodel?" Tommy gestured all around them. "Everything looks different. More 'ravey' than I remember."

Leroy glared at the man who said he would not talk. Their former boss set down the glass to clutch his head. A vein was pulsing near his temple.

"Are you two unaware of what 'banished' means?" Leroy opened his mouth, but Junior kept going. "You are meant to stay out of sight and out of mind. It is not an open invitation to show up at my establishment at will. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"C'mon, man. It's been nearly a decade."

"Banishment is for life. There is no time limit." Junior reached under the prep area. "You better have a damn good reason for-"

There was a series of loud 'thunks' below the bar top. Neo's little legs were kicking the wood lining. He snarled at her.

"They are here because of you?" She nodded her head vigorously.

As Junior fumed, a new voice joined the discussion. "What's going on?"

A woman in a white dress emerged from a side room. She was an elegant sort, early-to-mid-twenties with long black hair. There seemed to be only mild interest in what was happening until her eyes landed on Neo. Then she was on full alert.

"You!" The tri-colored girl merrily waved. "What is she doing here!?"

"That's what I'm getting to the bottom of, Melanie." Junior told her before turning back to the three visitors. "Well?"

"We work for Torchwick." Leroy tried to be diplomatic. "He is requesting a favor. Perhaps we can discuss this somewhere more private?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you three honorless curs. We will talk out here, in the open, or we'll do that other thing instead."

Judging by how he was limbering up, Leroy could guess what the 'other thing' was. Despite the provocations, Junior did not start a brawl immediately. The businessman was likely wary of the collateral damage.

The situation was still salvageable. "Alright. Can we talk to the side, then? You and me only? This really isn't something we want to spread about."

"Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of my Underboss."

Melanie grinned as she leaned forward, challengingly. Leroy gave her another look over. He felt utter disbelief at seeing someone so young as the Xiong Family's second-in-command.

Junior had been made the Xiong Clan boss at a similar age, but those were extraordinary circumstances. His original Underboss was a Fixer who had served for many years under Hei Senior. An experienced hand was crucial in guiding the gang's day-to-day operations.

Another thing gnawed at Leroy. This person, Melanie, was oddly familiar. Tommy, even in his addled state, picked up on this as well.

"Talking to us about honor? Look at you." He spat on the floor. "Elevating a spiderling."

Once pointed out, the connection was easy to make. She was Melanie Malachite. The daughter of the Spider leader, Lil' Miss Malachite.

"She has my full confidence."

Coming to a truce with Spider was one thing. Maybe even the 'right thing' after such a bitter conflict. Placing them so high in the Xiong organization was another.

It was outright treachery.

"Your father must be spinning in his grave." Leroy muttered.

Junior did not take kindly to the invocation. "Don't speak of my father!"

"Make us!" Tommy helpfully added.

"With pleasure." Melanie confidently declared.

This series of outbursts sent everyone right to the edge.

Leroy and Tommy took up defensive crouches. Melanie placed a foot forward, showing off a hidden blade. Neo brought her long knife into play along with a lopsided grin. Junior held the trump card.

He pulled a large, cylindrical object out. It was his patented bazooka. The weapon was locked, loaded, and pointed directly at his guests.

As far as ways to win an argument went, Junior possessed a good one. Leroy and Tommy, both thinking better of it, stood down. The Spider's spawn similarly returned her blade to a less threatening position.

Predictably, Neo was not as easily dissuaded. She leaned forward to stick her face in front of the bazooka barrel. Her defiant stare dared Junior to pull the trigger. Despite being at the forefront of any resulting blast radius, he appeared tempted.

"Enough of this." Leroy declared, trying to regain control. "Neo! Stop that."

She leaned back from the precipice, slowly. To prevent her from going in again, he grabbed the lip of the stool she sat in and pulled her back. Lips pursed as she looked up at him.

The faunus knew he would be paying for interfering in her fun later. It was not a difficult decision, though. Better to get stabbed later than blown up right then. This way, at least, he would leave behind an intact corpse.

"Time for you to go." Melanie said as she stepped around the bar to present a united front with her boss.

"Yeah. I got that feeling." Leroy ushered his people back. "About that favor…"

"If Roman wants one, he'll have to come himself." Junior sneered, still touting the bazooka. "Or better yet, send someone who hasn't earned my disfavor. Until then, he can take that request and sit on it."

There was nothing left to be said after that. The Torchwick trio headed for the exit. Leroy could sense Xiong's hatred following them as they made their way outside.

/ / /

Fairgrounds were eerie without people.

Jaune was discovering this firsthand as he explored one. Tucked away in a thicket near Vale's walls was a training area. It was a place for companies and independent shops to prepare their workers for an upcoming event.

Bare wooden stalls stood on either side of a hastily dug dirt road. Palettes of cobblestones were stacked and ready to lay in the ground. Blue and green tarps were ubiquitous and fluttering.

A poster proclaiming 'the 40th Annual Vytal Festival Tournament' loomed large over the environment. It was a striking design, showing a rising (or setting?) sun behind the silhouette of Beacon Academy. Above was a floating island where the actual festival would take place.

The boy was only passingly familiar with the festival. Beyond celebrating a peace treaty, Jaune knew very little about the history behind the tournament. It was a big event, and he would be expected to participate with his team.

On live TV. In front of all of Remnant. With his skill level.

If he also had to compete naked, it would be all his fears rolled up into one. But that was a problem for future Jaune. There was no point in worrying about that now.

Not when there were more important things for present Jaune to fret about.

"This is super sketchy." He whispered while his head twisted about. "Are you sure we are not being lured in to be killed?"

"Nah. This is totally normal." Roman waived away the concern. "These 'law and order' types can't be seen rubbing elbows with the Underground. Out here, no one will see us."

That was what concerned Jaune.

When Roman told him that they were going to meet the Commissioner of Vale's police, he laughed. Surely it had been a joke. But the thief was not kidding.

To find out that such a trusted official could be a bad guy had shaken the teen massively. He liked to think he was not so innocent anymore. Being with Roman had ripped the blinders off. Yet even Jaune was not prepared to learn that bit of information.

Apparently, this was a recent promotion. The head of the Division had 'only' been a Major a few weeks ago. Whether that made his ascension better or worse was yet to be determined.

Jaune continued his lonely walk down the road. Despite the muggy warmth, he tugged down on his bowler hat and red wig. He also adjusted his new mask that covered his face from nose to chin. The black metal felt smooth under his fingertips.

It had been an impulse purchase from Mr. Ferrous. One he did not regret. The covering was so much better than the modified balaclava. Easier to breathe through as well. The filter slats allowed for better air circulation than wool.

"Where was the meeting spot, again?"

"A building with a purple top and orange walls."

They found it towards the back of the fairground. It was a standing structure with a cut out space that, if glass were in place, would constitute a window. Jaune figured it would be a booth for games such as ring toss or balloon popping.

No one else was around. Checking his red Scroll, they were right on time. Someone should have been waiting there or approaching.

"Are we sure-?"

There was a ring. The chirp of a Scroll. With his own device in hand, Jaune knew that it was not his. The sound was coming from inside the booth.

He reached over the top and angled downward. Fishing around, he touched a rectangular item on an out of sight shelf. Gripping it, he pulled out a blue Scroll. It was indeed ringing. On the display was an unlisted number.

"Best not keep him waiting."

Pressing the 'call' button, the screen opened up. Video was disabled. Jaune pushed a latch on his mask to pull it off and let the spirit within speak more clearly.

"Afternoon, Kingsnake. Or should I say, Commissioner?"

There was a puff on the other end. "How is it that you make my new title sound like an insult?"

His tone was terse. Brusque. A surprising opening from a top cop.

"Consider me your conscience. You know. That little voice whispering 'you're just a man' into your ear. Been hearing from that little fellow lately, Nadder?"

"The last person I need lecturing me on delusions of grandeur is you, Torchwick. So what is it? What is so urgent that you need my attention? My officers are quite put off by your contacting methods."

"Shouldn't have ignored me."

"You have my full attention now." Nadder said in a way that Jaune thought was ominous. "I'm a busy man. Keeping my kingdom safe takes much of the time that I would've ordinarily allocated for you ne'er do wells."

There was a heavy sound nearby that had Jaune jump a little. Something had fallen. Perhaps the wind had pushed something over.

"Oh yeah. You're a real pillar of the community." The thief taunted. "Too bad the foundation was built on muck. We both know you were once a lackey on Xiong's payroll. Worming your way to the top of the VPD does not wash that away."

"Nobody cares about your past when you run in the right circles."

"Then how about you work those connections for me?"

"I'm not putting my reputation on the line for you."

"C'mon, Nads." For this portion of the conversation, Roman was not as antagonistic. "It'll be easy for you. One last favor and you can go back to your perch on high to smite the wicked. You'll never have to hear from me again."

"On that, we agree. Hold for a moment."

The line went silent. Jaune shuffled a bit. His nervousness had his free hand going to his breast pocket. The cigar that Roman suggested he carry resided there.

He was not sure why. There was no urge to smoke. Something about holding it felt soothing. At the very least, the waiting appeared to pass more quickly. When the police commissioner spoke once more, Jaune had gained a modicum of calm.

"Let's hear it. What is your request?" Nadder grunted.

"Nothing so difficult. I need help finding a woman."

"Don't we all? Although I'm surprised. Always figured you were disinterested in the fairer sex."

"I'm making an exception for her. She's a special sort."

"What'd she do?"

"Double crossed me."

Nadder mulled it over. "Name?"

"Oh you'll like this. It's probably fake, but distinctive. She goes by Cinder Fall."

"What does-" There was a pause. "Describe your Cinder for me."

"Dark hair. Golden eyes. Average height. Aesthetically pleasing, as far as that goes. She gives off the impression of being well connected, which is what makes me think you lot can find her."

Another pause. Shorter this time.

"We will have to decline your request."

"I can pay." Roman said, sounding confused.

"Money is not the issue."

"What? Money is always the issue, you greedy fu-" Roman stopped. "Wait. Money is always the issue. The only reason you would turn down the lien was if you thought there was more to be made in another venture."

"I don't know what you mean. The information you are requesting is highly confidential and-"

"You're working for her, aren't you?" Roman accused.

A chill went down Jaune's spine. Doubly so when there was no quick denial. Nadder only refuted part of the allegation.

"The Commissioner of Police works for no one. They do, from time to time, work with those that can deliver results for Vale. Cinder is performing a wonderful service for us all, and I will not see her slandered this way."

Jaune was shaking his head. He could not believe what he was hearing. Roman, though, only got angrier.

"Whatever it is you think she can deliver, you are wrong. You're playing with fire and are going to get burned!"

"I'll take that under advisement." The Commissioner said, obviously bored with their conversation.

"Listen to me!"

"Goodbye, Roman." He chuckled. "Best of luck in your future endeavors."

The connection was cut. The thief cursed up a storm. The teenager was at a loss.

"What… just happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened. We got screwed with our pants on."

A twig snapped.

Jaune listened. There was movement nearby. Rustling.

"And it may not be over."

Something was moving out there. Having now engaged Grimm on multiple occasions, he was sure it was not one of them. Those monsters were much noisier. Whoever this was, they were trying to sneak up on him.

He walked briskly in the opposite direction. His shoulders hunched up as he heard footsteps follow. Lots of footsteps.

Going around a stall, he remembered to put his mask back on. He did not want anyone getting a good look at his lower face. His path took a zig zag pattern as he tried to shake them. Eventually, all pretenses fell apart.

Jaune began running. Those chasing were in hot pursuit. Rounding another stall, he came face to face with a large group of men in blue. A row of silver guns trained on him.

"VPD! Freeze!" Someone screamed.

From his 'training' with Neo, Jaune knew the worst thing to do was to freeze. Yet he still felt his body seize up. He had been taught to trust the police implicitly. The urge to give himself over to authority was strong.

"Go! Now!" Roman yelled in his ear. "If you're caught here, say goodbye to Beacon! Say goodbye to your team!"

That more than anything got him to turn and run. He was not going to lose them. Not today.

A wooden post above his head exploded. There was a deafening 'bang' behind him. Splinters rained down over his arm. He shielded his face as Aura instinctively flared about the rest of him. His feet kept moving along.

They were firing at him. Was that supposed to be a warning shot? Or was it a miss?

"Break the line of sight." Roman burst out of Jaune's body and over to a propped-up tent. "Quick! In here!"

He did not need to be told twice. The teen juked in that direction. Diving for the multicolored sheeting, he wiggled his way under the stakes.

Inside was surprisingly spacious. It reminded him of the kind of set up that a traveling circus would use. There was an empty ring in the center with stadium seating arranged around to give an audience an unobstructed view.

A series of curses followed Jaune from outside. There were demands for him, or rather, Torchwick, to give up or else. Roman replied to them succinctly.

"Nuts to that."

They both looked for an exit. A small opening lay to Jaune's left. That way appeared to lead away from those that were behind him.

"There! Slip out before they know what is happening!"

Jaune took a step in that direction. Then a soft sound caught his attention. It was the quiet sniffling of someone trying to hold back tears.

He was not the only one inside the tent.

To his right, huddled by a set of bleachers, was a younger girl. She was stuck, staring at him with big brown eyes. Her braced-up teeth clattered with fear. From outside, a command was issued to the surrounding cops.

"Open fire!"

His legs moved on their own. They did not go in the direction that Roman would have preferred. He instead threw himself on top of the child as the bullets began to fly.


Author Notes: This story now has over five hundred followers. Wow! Maybe that does not seem much compared to other authors on this website, but that's a lot to me. For perspective, my last story did not even crack thirty. Thanks everyone!

Now if we could only surpass a hundred comments. xD