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Chapter Text

“PYRRHAAAAA!”

His stomach lurched as the world quickly shrunk away from him. Through the tiny vent he could see Beacon burning, just a blur of flickering orange through the tears that streamed down his face.

“Pyrrha!”

He grasped the locker door as he choked out more strangled sobs.

“Please, please, Pyr…”

She’d sent him away. 

She’d sent him away when she needed him most.

When she’d needed a partner.

And instead she’d been shackled with him.

Someone she’d had to save some idiot from falling to his death during initiation, then had to train said idiot , protect him, and then send him away to keep him safe, because he was too weak to protect her when she needed him. 

And now she had to face an overwhelmingly powerful enemy alone.

All because he felt like playing at being a hero!

Do you feel like a hero now, Jaune?

“no, no, no, no, no, no… Pyr. I’m so sorry Pyrrha,” he whispered hoarsely into the locker door.

As the locker flew through the air, he could hear someone shouting something somewhere in the distance.

“-and SURVIVE! AHH-”

The world exploded around him as the screech of bending metal pierced his ears. He screamed through the agonising pain that wracked his body and instinctively brought up his Aura to mitigate further injury. There was a deafening, bird-like shriek as the metal encasing him was torn apart around him. 

He was falling. Plummeting through the air, far above Vale, surrounded by metal shrapnel, black feathers and droplets of blood glimmering like tiny rubies. Beneath him, he could see the whole city, above him, and then below him again, a blurred and burning mess that spiralled around him, too fast to make out any details. 

Landing strategy. 

He needed a landing strategy! 

Motion sickness twisted at his stomach as he tried to focus through the pain and disorientation. 

Strategy, strategy, strategy! What was his strategy ?

The inferno consumed city was rapidly approaching. He had seconds to do something.

Anything!

He floundered as he desperately tried to think his way out of the situation.

Nothing.

Nothing came to him.

His eyes widened as the ground rushed towards him impossibly fast.

All he could do was brace himself and push all his Aura out around him.

There was a sickening crunch, an explosion of agony and then nothing more.

Jaune choked out a rattling rasp and recoiled as pain shot through his abdomen. He reached out a shaky arm and tried to reach out for something, only to weekly claw at the cold gravel above his head. 

Noises began to seep through the darkness. He could hear screams and cries all around him. 

The Grimm!

The Grimm had breached the city! 

Vale was under attack!

Pyrrha! 

Pyrrha was fighting alone!

He tried to move again, squirming against the rocky rubble and debris that pressed against him from all angles. He coughed, a thick, metallic taste filling his mouth, and tried to tilt his head upwards, scraping his cheek across the debris strewn tarmac he was laid against, and towards the dim light that filtered in between the rocks.

His whole body throbbed with a dull, muted pain that seemed to block out every other sensation.

He tried to reach out towards the light, yet only one arm seemed to respond, and shakily pushed at the loose rocks. More light streamed in through the rubble. He squirmed and shuffled further towards the opening, shifting more debris out the way as he went. 

He’d been falling! 

Details of what had happened started to trickle back.

The locker had collided with something and he’d been plummeting towards the ground!

How had he survived?

How long had it been? 

Why was he buried in rubble?

Even with his massive Aura reserves, he knew he should be dead from such a fall.

He choked through the dust and continued to scramble at the opening with one arm, until the opening was large enough to squeeze through. Squirming forwards, he felt himself be held back by one of his legs which was oddly numbed. Jaune yanked at his trapped leg, gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain that lanced through the numbness. Something within his leg snapped and ripped unnaturally as it came loose.

With his leg freed, it didn’t take long for him to wriggle through the rocks and crawl out into the ruined street. He tried to kneel, only to immediately fall back against the cold concrete ground. He looked down at himself, only to choke out a gasp in horrified shock. 

His body was coated with a layer of dark grey dust and blood. His leg was twisted at the knee, and jutted out at an absurd and abhorrent angle. It was sickeningly wrong. Deep lacerations covered his numbed body. His left arm was-

He convulsed, his stomach twisting violently as he retched uncontrollably, vomiting a burgundy concoction of blood and half digested food into the rubble he was laid across. He gasped desperately for air and clenched his eyes shut in a futile hope that the street would stop spinning. 

After several painful seconds, he opened his eyes again and tentatively looked back at the mangled remains of his arm. It was a horrific mess of mutilated flesh and fractured shards of bone that hung gruesomely from his shoulder on just a warped lump of deformed flesh. He grimaced and looked away from the monstrosity, feeling his stomach clench again.

A distraction from his mutilation wasn’t hard to find as his eyes were immediately drawn to the sky. In the distance was Beacon tower, its top destroyed and being circled by an impossibly enormous dragon Grimm. It gave a deafening roar that he felt reverberate through his very bones. Cold terror forced its way into his heart at the sight of the monstrosity that would be more at home in a legendary fairytale. 

Pyrrha! 

She would be fighting that horror!

Everyone would be.

Ren and Nora, Team RWBY, everyone !

He needed to help! 

Jaune lifted himself with shaking, broken limbs and staggered into a standing position. His vision swam as a wave of lightheadedness wept over him. He swayed, and gave a muted scream as he staggered forwards onto his broken leg. 

He felt sick. 

Sick and drained.

So drained. 

Like he could fall asleep at any second despite the panicked frenzy he was in.

A hot, sticky liquid dribbled into his eye and he tried to wipe it away, only to find his ruined, nearly amputated arm was completely unresponsive. 

Another spine chilling roar rumbled through the sky and he looked up again to see a series of orange flashes atop the half destroyed tower of Beacon. 

What was happening up there?

He needed to move. 

He needed to help.

To do something !

Squinting through the blood and pain, he surveyed the destroyed street he was in. Piles of rubble and debris were strewn out across the road, buildings either collapsed or aflame. The air was thick with smoke, dust and Grimm particles, all illuminated by a dangerous orange glow that emanated through the burning city. 

There were bodies too. Strewn out across the road, some broken and alone, while others were still moving, being helped up, comforted or mourned by friends and family. It was like something out of a nightmare. 

Unthinkable. 

Unimaginable .

How had this happened?

One of the bodies caught his attention through the chaos and tragedy.

Crocea Mors was missing from his hip.

Instead he reached down and picked up a sharp, lethal looking spike of rebar. Jaune staggered towards the wounded man ahead. The very man who had presumably helped illustrate this catastrophe. 

Roman Torchwick lay against a warped and crushed car, tattered white coat stained a bright red. He was alone. His face was screwed up in pain as he coughed up copious amounts of blood that dribbled down his neck.

He was dead. Still rasping out hoarse, rattling breaths, but unquestionably a deadman.

It looked like the thief-apparently-turned-terrorist knew it too, if his grim expression and hollow, haunted eyes were anything to go by.

Jaune limped closer, until he stood above the man, makeshift weapon gripped painfully tight in his still functional hand.

It was only then that he saw something that made his stomach drop.

The monolithic dragon had grasped onto the tower, and was wrapping itself around it, the monstrosity’s massive head bearing down upon whoever was atop the tower. Jaune had a sickening feeling he knew exactly who was up there, alone, without a capable partner to support her.

The fiery flashes had abruptly stopped, and a sudden panic filled him. Somehow, he knew , deep in his heart, that something truly awful was about to happen. 

A piercing orange glow brought his attention back to the man before him. To his shock the man was glowing orange, looking like he was focusing hard on something, as the orange glow rapidly increased in intensity.

Jaune had no idea what the man was doing, but he knew it couldn’t be good. He had barely any time to react to the unknown attack, and so he did the only thing he could. He fell forwards onto the man, twisted metal implement positioned in front of him so his weight would fall against its blunt end. There was a split second of resistance, before the improvised sword sunk into the glowing man’s chest, on top of whom he collapsed. 

As he did, several things happened simultaneously; Firstly, Torchwick’s deep orange glow seemed to coalesce into them before exploding outwards with a sudden, emerald green flash. Secondly, the night sky was lit up with a blinding silver light that originated from an enormous explosion of silver fire atop the tower, and the dragon cried a dying screech as it seemed to turn to stone. The third and final thing to happen was that Jaune felt his previously empty Aura flare up and engulf both him and the dying thief, as he felt Roman’s own Aura pulse through him as well before being jerked forwards with a golden flash, and then all the pain vanished as he felt a falling sensation and the world went black.

Chapter Text

The first thing Jaune saw was the inside of a toilet bowl seconds before his stomach clenched, propelling its acrid smelling contents into the toilet. He gasped for air and lifted his head to see where he was. It looked like a bathroom. And a completely unremarkable bathroom at that. His observations were forcibly cut short as he leaned forwards again to violently expel another burst of vomit. Its vile, acidic taste lingered on his tongue as he grimaced and clutched his squirming stomach with both hands and let out a groan.

Wait, both hands?

He scrutinised the now completely healed arm with disbelief. It felt unreal. Vale had been burning, attacked by a horde of Grimm and a dragon! Was his team alright? Where was he? He needed to understand what was going on! He needed answers! This didn’t make sense!

He began to rise, only to be caught off guard by a third wave of nausea and to drop back to his knees retching and spluttering. Finally finished, he flushed the sick away and left the cubicle. He gave his mouth a quick rinse before straightening up before the mirror. 

He looked… Young ?

Not much younger, but definitely slightly squishier, all together less toned and more… civilian.

More normal.

Crocea Mors hung at his hip, pristine and polished, just as his armour plates also were.

Jaune didn’t polish his equipment… 

He gave his reflection one more dubious look over before leaving the bathroom to, hopefully, find some answers.

It didn’t take long for him to realise he was aboard a large ship, swaying side to side as it cut through the water. It was packed with his fellow passengers, all of whom were milling about, mingling and chatting casually amongst themselves as if without a single worry in the world.

In the distance he could make out the Vale docks. The sky was clear and without any sign of a Grimm dragon, and the city, at least that which he could see, looked completely intact, as if nothing had ever happened. 

This was the day he had arrived in Vale.

Somehow . 

It made no sense and yet, there was no denying it.

He still remembered it clearly. He had been a nervous wreck, trying to dismiss the nagging guilt that ate away at him. He had stolen from his family and then ran away, without so much as a goodbye. He hadn’t left a note or even phoned or messaged them after he passed initiation. He felt slightly sick again, although he knew that it had nothing to do with the swaying motion of the ship this time. 

He had been so focused on everything happening at Beacon, it had been so easy to forget about them. He knew they wouldn’t have had the same luxury. He had ignored the calls and generally avoided dealing with them. How much worry had he caused them?

He shook the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. Vale would be attacked! Of that he was sure, but he still didn’t understand how?

Maybe it was his Semblance? Perhaps he could see the future or something.

The theory sounded rather weak, even to him. And besides, didn’t he need Aura to use his Semblance? He tried to flex his Aura, only to find it completely unresponsive. 

His Aura was locked.

Unease filled him as he thought about just how vulnerable he now was without it. What was he going to do? He was sure that the last year hadn’t just been some convoluted dream or hallucination. It had been real. It was too long, too detailed and too… real not to be.

The docks were drawing nearer now as he pondered his bizarre situation.

Who could he tell? He needed his Aura unlocked as soon as possible. He also needed to tell the faculty at Beacon about what was coming. The White Fang was going to attack the school using Grimm, Atlas soldiers would be hacked and attack citizens and the dragon… Jaune had never heard of such a Grimm. It was something not even Professor Port would dream up. 

Torchwick was stealing Dust for some nefarious plot and the Vytal Festival was going to be sabotaged! And Amber’s power! Someone was trying to kill her for it! Professor Ozpin or General Ironwood needed to know!

Jaune’s head hurt.

How would he convince them of what he knew would happen? In fact, how would he even get to talk to either of those men? People couldn’t just waltz into Beacon and talk to the Headmaster. Random teenagers definitely couldn’t. 

General Ironwood wasn’t even in the same kingdom.

He’d have the best chance to talk to Ozpin as a Beacon student. It wasn’t like what he needed to tell them couldn’t wait a few weeks anyway, right? Nothing important would happen for a little while anyway. 

If he was going to try and get into Beacon, he would need to get fake transcripts again, and this time he would make sure he got his Aura unlocked before Initiation. And he would like to get some training done too. He wasn’t out of shape per say, but he also wasn’t the superhuman athlete a Huntsman needed to be, either. At the time of the Vytal Festival he had mostly caught up to some of his weaker classmates, mostly thanks to his impressive Aura reserves and all of Pyrrha’s extra training. He needed to get back to that level of skill and fitness as soon as possible, and hopefully even surpass it.

This time, he wouldn't drag his team down again. 

This time Pyrrha wouldn't have to send him away and face that red witch alone.

So, his short term goals were to unlock his Aura, get forged transcripts and start training again.

The easiest would be to get forged transcripts again. The Club was the place he had eventually found would help him, the first time around. Hopefully it would be just as easy this time. He had the money after all.

Another pang of guilt stabbed through his stomach.

Stolen money.

He joined the line of disembarking passengers and followed them onto the docks. The man in front of him was hissing vehemently into his scroll about something being an ‘outrageous injustice’. He ignored it and set off through the crowded docks.

He'd go to The Club first and get that checked off. He could ask the guy who forged his transcps if he knew anyone willing to unlock people's Aura, though he doubted they'd do it for free. 

He'd left Ansel with just a small rucksack of essentials and one thousand Lien. The forgeries had cost eight hundred, which had left him with two hundred Lien to rent a room and keep himself fed until term started. It was only two weeks away, and he’d initially managed to find a run down old place to stay on the cheap. Money probably wouldn’t be a problem there, but unlocking his Aura was another question.

He had no idea how much it would cost to get his Aura unlocked, but he imagined it wouldn't be cheap. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure it was legal. Or if anyone did unlock people's Aura. Maybe it was highly regulated and only done at combat academies like Signal. Afterall, why didn't everyone try and get their Aura unlocked? Or even just the super wealthy? 

Had Pyrrha actually broken the law to help him during Initiation?

Was unlocking people's Aura something most Huntsmen or Huntsmen students even knew how to do?

He'd never asked.

Once again, just how little he actually knew about being a Huntsman was becoming painfully obvious.

He wandered through the familiar streets, and towards the shadier part of the city. The Club was notorious for being the epicenter of all things morally or legally dubious. It wasn't like it was plagued with rampant crime and violence or anything. It was just fairly openly known as the place to go if you needed something done off the record or unofficially.

Like paperwork! Paperwork wasn't important or anything, was it? Forging some documents wasn't a real crime, right? And besides, he needed it to get into Beacon to warn people about the impending attack.

And because he still wanted to become a Huntsman.

But it wasn't like that was really a bad thing either. 

Nope . He wasn't even doing anything wrong!

The unpleasant twisting of guilt in his gut, and the incessant feeling of uneasiness that he couldn't quite shake off seemed to suggest otherwise.

He tentatively made his way through a dingy back alley and could have sworn he saw the silhouette of a large rodent slip down a nearby flood drain. He shuddered. Since when did Vale have a vermin problem? Even the less prosperous parts of the city were fairly well cleaned and maintained. 

Weird.

He shrugged it off as he stepped out of the narrow alleyway and continued towards where he knew The Club was.

Was he really going to do this again?

Yes. Yes he was. He was going to Beacon, no matter what.

Ruby wouldn't do this.

The thought annoyed him. Ruby wouldn't do it because she was actually good enough to get into Beacon legitimately. Hell, she'd been invited by the headmaster to enroll two years early!

And because she wouldn't break the law for her own gain.

But this was for everyone’s gain!

It was different.

Completely different.

He turned another corner and saw the notorious nightclub at the end of the road.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled to calm his nerves.

Now or never.

He didn't plan on telling Ruby about this. It was wrong. She'd know it was wrong. He couldn't imagine how she'd look at him if she ever knew. 

Maybe one day he could be as good as she was. As good of a leader. As good of a fighter and as good of a friend.

As good of a person.

But right now he wasn't, so just like the last time, he pushed any doubts aside and strode towards his destination with a confidence he did not feel.

At least this time it wasn't entirely out of selfishness. 

There was a terrible plot to destroy Vale, and it needed to be stopped. He had the knowledge, so it was his responsibility to do what he could to prevent it.

And he didn’t want to lose what he’d had at Beacon.

He had already stolen from his family. What was one more black mark on his record? The time for any doubts was over. 

He pushed through the large glass doors and thanked his lucky stars it was open. It was the middle of the day afterall. Apparently they didn't start manning the doors till the evening.

Inside was a luxurious and spacious room, with beautiful glass pillars and a decadent glass dancefloor. To the side was a large bar with identically suited men walking around, cleaning floors or aimlessly milling about talking to one another.

“Oi!” A large suited man wearing red shades strode towards him, “Why’re you ‘ere?”

“Um, hi. I'm looking for a man called ‘Junior’?”

“Wha’ for?”

“Erm… Paperwork?

“Ugh, alright whatever. He's at the bar. Don't cause trouble.”

“Right, thanks.”

He quickly walked away from the intimidating man and towards the lavish bar.

“Excuse me, I'm looking for Junior?”

“You found him. What do ya want, kid?”

Oh. Last time he’d just babbled nervously at a bouncer and been directed to a small office with a rather grumpy administrator instead. He hadn't actually had to speak to Junior himself.

“Ah, well I'd like to get some forged transcripts for Beacon Academy.”

The man looked him up and down before scoffing dismissively before going back to cleaning some glasses and completely ignoring his presence.

“I can handle myself. I just need the paperwork.”

“Listen kid, I'm doing you a favour here. You wouldn't last a minute against a Grimm. Get yourself a real job.”

“You'd be surprised. I've got money.”

“Yeh? How much?”

“A thousand Lien.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. “I'll get you into Beacon. It'll cost ya a thousand.”

“What?”

“A thousand Lien for the transcripts.”

“But- But that's more than last… I mean, I can't pay that much!”

“What, you think professional forgeries are cheap? You want it to get you into Beacon Academy. We ain't talking about something small here, kid. You said it yourself, you've got the Lien. Good luck getting yourself a better offer from anyone else.”

But last time it was only eight hundred! This was ridiculous! He still needed to get his Aura unlocked and feed himself for the next two weeks as well! 

“Well I can't pay that. I need some to live on for the next few weeks!”

“Great. So get yourself a job or something and get back to me when you can afford it. You might even find you'd rather stay at that job, than to go running off to get yourself gored by a Beowolf.”

“But term starts in just two weeks! Applicants need to be in well before that!”

Nowhere would hire him for just a few weeks and without any proper qualifications! Definitely not any that would start soon enough.

“Sorry kid, I don't know what to tell you. You best get searching unless you want to end up working here.”

Junior shrugged again apathetically and returned his attention to the glassware.

‘Work here'?

“Alright. I'll work for you.”

What choice did he have?

Junior stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I wasn't actually offering you a job…”

“I could be a bouncer. I can fight. I'll pay all the money for the forgeries now, if you'll pay me enough in wages to get by till Initiation.”

“I don't need more bouncers, and I don't really want you . Do yourself a favour, kid. Go home.”

“I can't go home and I need to get into Beacon. You don't understand!”

“Don't whine at me, kid. Save it for your mother and maybe you can avoid getting grounded. Now get lost.”

He wasn't whining . Junior just didn't understand what was going to happen if he didn't get in!

“Fine! I'll pay you a thousand Lien. But I need those transcripts. I'll sleep under a bridge for the next two weeks if that's what it takes!”

Junior studied him with perhaps a fraction more respect before nonchalantly shrugging again.

“Terry! This guy needs some paperwork. Go take him to Tom. It'll cost him a thousand Lien.”

“Alright, boss.”

“Follow him” Junior nodded towards the uniformed man who had responded. “Let's see if you put your money where your mouth is.”

“Thanks.”

“It's just business, kid. But don't say I didn’t warn you when you get yourself hurt… ”

Jaune hurried after the other man as he walked through a door to the back. The walk through the corridors was quiet and it didn't take long before he was shown into a small office.

“Mornin’ Tom, boss says the kid pays a thousand for some paperwork.”

“What paperwork?”

“Dunno. Didn't ask” ‘Terry’ left without further comment.

The small, balding man sat behind the desk, just rolled his eyes and motioned to the empty seat across from him. Jaune sat down and explained what he needed. The process was much the same as he remembered from the last time. It mostly consisted of answering questions like what his name, age and birthplace were. A rather tedious ten minutes later he handed over the cash and was told it would be processed before the application deadline. With that, he was dismissed with a lazy wave from ‘Tom’ and walked briskly back towards the front of The Club. 

At least that was one of his goals achieved. Unfortunately it brought up some new problems like how he would feed himself for the next few weeks. Getting his Aura unlocked was another persisting problem.

As soon as he re-entered the main area of the building, it was clear that something had changed. The whole room was quiet and tense. Of course, he couldn’t just get his overpriced forgeries done and leave without issue, could he?

He warily picked his way around the corner and towards the bar. Junior stood behind the bar, looming aggressively forwards over another man, who seemed to be trying to stare the large man down, fists clenched on the bar and practically snarling up at him.

“Junior, I need that money! I got a family to feed, man! I’ll pay you it all back in a month, I swear! Every last Lien I owe you!”

It was then Jaune noticed the two bouncers who lay unmoving on the floor directly behind the stranger. The other black suited men scattered around the room looked tense as they apprehensively converged upon the man, all looking somewhat reluctant to engage him.

“Just get out Thatcher, before I change my mind and decide to collect on whatever we can get.”

‘Thatcher’ didn’t look like he was going to back down any time soon. What were the chances Jaune could navigate the brewing conflict and leave the building without being drawn into whatever this was?

He tried to discreetly sidle around the edge of the large room and slip out past the bar. 

“You Bastard! You knew I wouldn’t be able to pay it off in time! Your goons come anywhere near my family, I’ll blow their god damn heads off, you hear me! I’m ex-military remember, you motherfu-!”

Almost there. He’d just be leaving now… 

“ Oi, kid! Come ‘ere!”

Jaune froze mid step and deflated. What were the chances Junior was talking to a different kid?

Very low.

With a sigh he turned back to the two men and cautiously approached them, being careful to stay further from the man than the two men on the floor evidently had.

“Um, yeh?

“I've had a change of heart. Escort Mr Thatcher here out, and if I like what I see, I'll think about hiring you. Deal?”

What?

Jaune glanced down at the two unconscious men again.

He did need the money. He might have been prepared to sleep on the streets and scrounge any food he could for the next two weeks if he had absolutely no other choice. Working for Junior, if he ‘liked what he saw’ wouldn’t be too bad, right? Even if the pay was pitiful, it was better than nothing. And all he had to do was act as a bouncer, right? 

He studied the man he’d been asked to escort out. He had a wiry build and average height. He couldn’t see any weapon. Since it looked like the man had incapacitated the two bouncers before any others had come to help, Jaune would guess he did it pretty fast. That might suggest some knowledge of a martial art. He said he was ex-military, right? Even without his Aura, he had several months of Beacon education in some hand-to-hand basics. He could probably handle the man if things went south.

“Really, Junior? You gonna make me hurt a kid? Fine, but I’m not leaving till you push the deadline back.”

He couldn’t help but feel slightly affronted at the man’s casual dismissal of him. 

Even if it was warranted.

This was a good deal. And besides, this ‘Thatcher’ didn’t exactly seem like a saint himself. Junior had every right to insist someone left his property, right? This was fine.

“Alright,” Jaune stepped closer to the man and decided to try and be polite about it, “Please come with me, sir.”

“Pah!” 

The man shifted his weight off the bar and turned, before taking a step towards him. He was within arms reach now and tensed aggressively.

“Yeh? What you gonna do if I don't, kid?”

The man took another step forward, now in his face and grabbing at the front of his shirt with one hand. 

The man yanked him forwards and Jaune realised with a gasp what was about to happen. He knew the man's other hand would be coming up at his jaw. He’d seen Yang do exactly this on occasion in her spars. She’d close the gap, grab her opponent and pull them forwards, putting them off balance and covering the incoming ballistic uppercut until it was too late.

Unfortunately, knowing what was about to happen, and actually stopping it, were two very different things.

He made a panicked twist in a desperate attempt to evade the incoming hit as best he could, partially succeeding before staggering backwards as the man’s fist impacted his shoulder instead. The next second the man had closed the distance again, this time twisting his body ready to drive his fist into Jaune’s face. The blow was obvious and telegraphed, and Jaune knew the dangers of telegraphing his strikes first hand. He thought back to every time Pyrrha had punished such a mistake, usually by grabbing his sword arm and using it for leverage. 

Taking inspiration from those spars, he stepped into the man’s guard, raising an arm to shield himself from the incoming blow and bringing up his other hand to grab the offending arm as it clashed with his own arm. Jaune winced as he felt a sudden force collide with the opposite side of his armoured abdomen from the man’s free hand. Thankful of the protection it provided him, he twisted under the man’s trapped arm and twisted it behind the man until he grunted in pain and couldn’t escape the armlock.

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief as the man became more compliant, unable to reach him with his other arm or turn around without causing himself agonising pain. Now pacified, two of Junior’s other employees came and took the helpless man towards the doors.

Jaune looked back to Junior, expectantly.

Hopefully that was good enough.

“Eh, nicely done,” he said with a grudgingly appreciative nod. “You're no Malachite but I’ll hire you for a few weeks. You can have a room here if you want? We can go over some rules and expectations in a bit. You want a drink? It's on the House.”

“I’m underage.”

Junior just looked at him like he was stupid.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long to sort out the details of his new employment with Junior. He’d mostly be working nights, either manning the front doors or watching over the dancefloor and stepping in to break up any potential trouble. He would be paid seven Lien per hour, which Jaune was pretty sure was below the minimum wage for a seventeen year old, but decided to accept anyway. Junior had provided him with a small bedroom in the back of the club, so all he would really have to pay for was to keep himself fed.

All things considered, it hadn’t seemed like a bad deal.

He’d mostly be expected to work alongside the other bouncers, but he was told he might also have to keep any particularly troublesome customers engaged until Junior's two enforcers arrived and settled things more forcefully. Apparently they were a pair of twins a little younger than him who both had their Auras unlocked and had gone through extensive combat training. 

He’d yet to meet them as they were apparently away doing a job of some description. Junior hadn’t elaborated, only saying they’d be returning soon.

His new employment also meant that he’d probably be waking up around midday and have most of his afternoons free to get some exercise and training drills done before the long night shift. They wouldn’t help a fraction of the amount as some sparring or proper tuition would, but he didn't exactly have any other alternatives.

Getting his Aura unlocked was still a priority, but one he still hadn’t investigated.

He’d ask Junior at some point, but he wasn’t particularly optimistic.

He’d also asked Junior about why the man, apparently called ‘Thomas Thatcher’ had been so aggressive. Junior had been mostly dismissive of the subject but had said he’d let the man borrow some money to get out of some trouble but now he was trying to get out of repaying it and not to worry about it.

He was still worried.

He really didn’t want to have been involved with anything… Unlawful or immoral.

Or anything more illegal or immoral than forging his transcripts.

Much of the rest of the day went by uneventfully. He practiced swinging Crocea Mors around and trying to reenact some of the basics that Pyrrha had instructed him in. The sword felt slightly heavier and oddly less natural in his hand. He also found himself tiring quickly and feeling overall less coordinated than he had before. 

It was both annoying and put him off balance, but it probably wouldn’t take all that long to adjust to and for him to re-hone his body and meagre skills.

Hopefully.

Besides that, he went out into Vale and bought some fast food to eat whilst sitting at the bar in The Club whilst mindlessly perusing through his Scroll.

Most of the Vale news outlets were plastered with a familiar face and stories of a robbery that he vaguely remembered from his first time arriving in the capital.

‘Roman Torchwick strikes again! Vale National Bank Vault emptied without trace in historic heist! - By Henry Marigold.’

The headline was accompanied by a few pictures, with the most notable one being the mug shots of a much younger Roman Torchwick, looking battered and bruised, but still smirking mischievously at the camera.

He read on as he ate.

‘Police are still baffled by the recent heist of the National Bank that occurred yesterday (Sunday, 10th April) and although the investigation is still ongoing, we have been told that there are currently no leads for locating notorious Master Thief: Roman Torchwick, or the stolen money. The man was identified by eyewitnesses, whom Torchwick held up in the main atrium of the bank before he and some unidentified accomplices moved deeper into the bank. He reportedly made no effort to hide his identity, loudly proclaiming to confused hostages that he was ‘Roman Torchwick; Master Thief, Criminal Mastermind and Vale’s most Dashing Gentleman’ and that they should all ‘Relinquish their valuables to his magnanimousness and spread the word of his unmatched glory and grandeur.’ The iconic narcissist later escaped the police-besieged bank with the contents of one of the vaults via unknown means. This is the latest and largest in the man’s crime conquest here in Vale, with each consecutive robbery having been more daring and dramatic than the last. 

The article went on in much the same vein.

It seemed odd that the thief would go from making a name for himself with high stakes heists on illustrious and high profile places like the National Bank, to consistently robbing local Dust stores.

Then again, it was also odd that the man would decide to try and use that Dust to blow a hole in the middle of Vale for the Grimm to flood in through.

Maybe it was just to get his face on the news again. It had certainly made the man even more infamous. 

It still seemed peculiar.

He was pulled from his contemplation by a sudden commotion from the front doors.

He turned in time to see two identical girls enter the club, perhaps a year younger than him. One was wearing a vibrant scarlet dress with some sort of mechanism around her wrists while the other was wearing a white dress of a similar style and matching high heels with lethal looking blades attached. Both had jet black hair, emerald green eyes and matching expressions of surliness.

Right behind the pair was someone that almost had Jaune choking on the last of his food. As if he had been summoned by the article about him, Roman Torchwick leaned against the doorway, as if without a care in the world. He looked as relaxed and in control as he always did, wearing his signature white coat and bowler hat while resting easily on the smart cane he carried. Eye shadow enhanced, jade eyes scanned the club, taking in every detail from behind the bright orange fringe in a matter of moments.

The thief’s keen gaze snapped to his own with something that, for a split second, almost looked like recognition, before his expression was replaced by another easygoing smirk.

Since when was Roman Torchwick allowed to casually stroll through the streets of Vale and why was he here, of all places?

The unfathomable idea of the man in fact being a regular clubber, without anybody ever noticing him, managed to snap him out of his gawking.

To Jaune’s horror, he saw his new employer stride up to the man and start a conversation with him and the two sisters.

Wait, weren’t Junior’s enforcers supposed to be twin sisters…

…Who had been away for a few days on a ‘job’... 

Oh no.

That was them, wasn’t it?

And they’re ‘job’ had been to work for Torchwick.

They might have even been the ‘unidentified accomplices’ mentioned in the article about the bank robbery.

Why was Junior involved with Torchwick?

Why couldn’t Jaune have ended up working somewhere normal?

Somewhere where his employer wasn’t best buddies with a future mass terrorist and currently the most wanted man in the kingdom.

Would that have been so much to ask for?

Apparently it was.

Once again, he wished he at least had his Aura unlocked.

Not that it would save him if he was in trouble here. Torchwick alone outclassed him by a mile, and with the anonymous ‘enforcers’ as backup, Aura would probably just prolong his suffering if things went south.

Talking of the two menacing enforcers, he noticed they had broken off from Junior and Torchwick and were heading towards him.

He gulped in anticipation.

“Jaune, I presume,” the white twin all but demanded.

“Erm, yeh, that's me.”

What was her problem?

“Miltia,” said the red sister before nodding to her sister and continuing, “Melenie.”

“Well, It’s nice to meet you both.”

“If only the feeling was mutual,” the white sister sniffed haughtily.

Rude.

“We might have to work together in the future. If someone’s causing a problem, just, like, keep them busy till we arrive, alright?” the red one continued, apparently the more civil of the two.

“And then stay out of our way.”

“Um, okay?”

“Ugh, come on Mil, let's just go already.”

The pair turned as one and sauntered off, leaving him slightly confused as to what had just happened.

Damn, he should have used his ‘Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it.’ line. 

That was the problem. 

Or it was a lack of confidence.

They’d had him so off balance he hadn’t even remembered his memorised introduction.

How was he gonna get a girlfriend without his introductory line?

He felt a painful reminder of what had happened with Pyrrha stab at his heart.

He felt slightly sick, the idea of trying to get into a relationship with anyone else suddenly souring.

With everything else happening with Vale falling and her sending him away and also going to fight the woman in red alone, he had almost forgotten about, well… her… and him… Like that . 

Not this time.

He’d ask her out to the Vytal Ball!

He wouldn’t be an idiot a second time. 

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance. 

He’d do everything right this time.

And this time, she wouldn’t have to send him away either.

He didn’t have a clue why he’d been given a magical second chance at the upcoming year, but he knew that this time, things would be different.

He was jerked out of his thoughts as someone walked up to him with a rhythmic clicking. 

By the time Jaune’s brain caught up to what that meant, it was too lake as the stranger spoke with a familiar sardonic drawl.

“That Torchwick fella’s pretty well dressed, huh?”

Eyes widening, he stiffly turned to see he was being addressed by Roman Torchwick.

“Erm, what?”

The man leaned against the bar and nodded towards his propped up Scroll with the article still open on it.

“Oh, right. Erm… ”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘yes’, kid.”

“Erm, yeh? I mean, yes.”

“Aw, thanks, Yellow. You’re a real wordsmith.”

“Y-Yellow?”

Junior appeared next to them behind the bar.

“Roman, this is Jaune.”

“Jaune, huh?” Roman studied him with an uncomfortable intensity.

A few uneasy seconds passed as the thief scrutinised him before Junior apparently decided to rescue him.

“Is… there a problem, Roman?”

There was a rather tense pause before he replied as Jaune tried, and probably failed, to look innocent and ignorant about the man’s potential plans.

“…No. No, I don't think so. You know I dont forget a face, Hei. Can't say I’ve seen this one here before. New hire?”

“You're as sharp as ever. Yeh, hired as of a few hours ago. Anyway, come on, you said you wanted to talk.”

“Hmmm. Well, see ya around, Yellow. ”

The man casually flicked open a lighter and lit a cigar as he stood and walked away, a thin wisp of smoke spiraling lazily behind him

Well, he would have rather not been on Torchwick’s radar.

Still, this presented an opportunity for him to potentially get an idea of what Torchwick wanted, and why he would try and cause Vale to be attacked by Grimm. Afterall, the thief apparently hadn’t yet changed over to robbing lowly Dust stores and Jaune still didn’t understand why he went from making a point of avoiding murders, to trying to kill as many people as possible.

Or how to go about stopping him.

This wasn’t an opportunity he could squander. He actually knew where the elusive criminal was without the man trying to fight him.

This could single handedly help him save Beacon and Vale.

He pocketed his Scroll and slid off the stool before trying to surreptitiously wander in the direction they had disappeared in.

Jaune walked through the club and cautiously walked through the door to the back of the club. At the other end of the corridor, the two men disappeared into another room, still talking casually. 

He glanced around to check he was alone, before quietly hurrying after them.

If anyone asked, he would say he was going to his room.

He had every right to be here, despite his racing heart.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

He just needed to know exactly what Torchwick was planning.

He stopped outside the door through which he could still hear the two men’s muffled voices. The door was poorly fitted and had a narrow gap running between the door hinge and the wall.

He tried to nonchalantly lean against the doorframe as he peered through the slit and into the comfy looking office within. He could see the back of Torchwick’s head as he lounged in a comfy looking chair in front of a large mahogany desk, at which Junior was sat pouring some drinks. He held his breath and strained his ears to catch the murmured words from within.

“-new employer.”

That was Torchwick’s voice. He didn’t sound very happy.

“Why take the jobs then?”

Roman grumbled something too quiet for Jaune to hear in response to Junior’s question.

He leaned in even closer.

“That bad, huh? Well, you can hire my men, just leave me out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wish I’d -”

Jaune froze as his heart skipped a beat and his muscles locked up. Something very cold and very sharp was being pressed hard into the back of his neck.

“Hello Jaune,” a girl’s voice quietly murmured into the back of his ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

A dark red dagger-like claw lightly scratched over his skin and into view before scraping around to instead wrap across the front of his throat. He gulped and winced as his Adam's Apple pushed out against the sharp metal edge. He was pretty sure he was shaking slightly.

He jolted and almost yelped out loud as another sharp point pressed gently against the small of his back, pushing his hips forwards slightly.

“Walk.”

He wordlessly obeyed the softly whispered instruction as his anonymous assailant stayed right behind him, blades still biting against his vulnerable flesh, and guiding him further down the corridor, and away from the two men. He wasn’t sure if that was for better or for worse.

He really needed his Aura unlocking.

He continued to move carefully down the corridor, his heart hammering away so quickly he was almost surprised he hadn’t dropped dead of a heart attack.

What was he going to do?

What would his excuse be? 

How long had she been there for?

Just how dead was he?

Yep, he was definitely shaking.

There was no chance he could reach for his sword. Even the slightest movements from his captor would either have her claw skewer his spine at its base or have her slice the front of his neck clean open.

Or take his head off completely.

He gulped again at the morbid thought and winced at the moment of increased pressure cutting into his throat.

They wouldn’t actually kill him, right?

Surely not! 

He’d thought Junior didn’t deal in violent crime. 

He was supposed to just dabble with some counterfeit paperwork here, or a paid off official there.

Then again, Jaune hadn't had any idea he had any association to Torchwick either!

But even Roman Torchwick had a reputation for avoiding murder! 

He was stiffly led up a flight of stairs and down another corridor by capture and through another door.

They were in a bedroom. It was modest and with a single bed pushed against either wall. The whole room was draped in crimson and cream coloured decorations.

“Mel!” His escort called in a sing-song tone, “You’ll never guess who I caught snooping around!”

On one of the two beds was the room's sole inhabitant and one of the two twins he had briefly met earlier. The white one, he couldn’t remember her name, just that she had been the less amenable of the two.

Naturally, that meant the girl behind him was the red twin.

“Snooping, ey?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, “Well Jauney, it sounds like somebody's got some explaining to do…”

She stood up from the bed and began to saunter towards him, dangerous-looking bladed high heels clacking against the floor ominously with each measured step.

“Hey! Go get your own to play with if you want to have some fun! This one’s mine.”

How had he got himself into this mess? 

How was he going to get out of it?

“ Wow , Mil. You're not even gonna, like, share? Fine . Come get me if he needs any extra… encouragement .”

The last word was delivered with a truly spine chilling little smirk. Jaune had no idea what her idea of ‘encouragement’ was, but the almost hungry, sadistic gleam in her eyes promised he wouldn't like to find out.

“I’ll have you know, I can provide plenty of encouragement” the red-clad sister sniffed, sounding affronted.

He really didn’t need any encouragement!

“ Hmph . Later Jauney!” He held his breath in fearful anticipation as she brushed past him, “well, if my sister doesn’t, like, kill you , I guess.”

She wouldn’t though, right?

Right?

The white clad sister left, closing the door behind her with a soft click that seemed to seal his fate.

What was he going to say? 

He needed to say something!

“I- um, I w-wasn’t… like listening or anyth-”

“Jaune."

“Y-Yeh?”

“It's a really bad idea to lie to me.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

He gulped again to try and alleviate his impossibly parched throat.

He was screwed! 

He was so screwed!

He needed a good excuse!

There was no ‘ good excuse’!

With his back to her, and the sharp reminders of his predicament, he was unable to resist as he felt the weight of Crocea Mors disappear from his hip.

She wasn’t actually going to do anything to him, right?

They were just trying to scare him, right?

“ Fine . Sit on the bed. Not that bed. The other one. I don't want to get any blood on my sheets.”

“B-Blood?”

“Blood.”

“L-Look, this really isn’t necessary, I know it looked bad but-”

“You don't really need all ten fingers, right?”

“What?” He squeaked.

“Ten just seems like a lot…”

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you! I swear!”

What could he say?

“Hmmm… I don’t know, Jaune…”

‘Oh, yeh I was eavesdropping because I had a mysterious vision of the future and I need to stop Torchwick or Vale will fall to the Grimm!’ somehow seemed like it wouldn’t actually help his situation! Especially since the man in question was just downstairs.

“Look please! Listen I-I… I was- I was just-”

Think, Jaune !

“I think we’ll start here and go knuckle by knuckle…”

She pushed him against the bed and dragged the edge of the claw into the knuckle nearest the end of his littlest finger, keeping it crushed between the blade and the bed.

Say something!

She paused for a second and stared intently into his eyes, before her bright green eyes narrowed and hardened with a look of grim resolution.

Say Anything !

She looked back at his finger and began to twist slightly, gradually aligning the sharp edge with his trapped knuckle.

Just talk!

The claw rotated, and a small droplet of crimson blood began to seep around the blade as it broke the skin slightly.

She hesitated and glanced back to his eyes for a second before turning to continue with a tightly clenched jaw.

Start talking!

“Aura! IneedmyAuraunlocked! IwaslisteningcosIneededtoask! I swear, I’mtellingthetruth! I am! I- I hoped I could ask Torchwick if he knew anyone who would unlock my Aura! That's it! I was listening coz I didn’t want to interrupt! Please, please, stop!”

To his immense relief, she did. She let go of his hand, stood up and flicked the claws away before offering him a hand with a small, almost apologetic smile.

He tentatively took her offered hand, his own badly quivering, and stood up. He let go and staggered back away from the girl before inspecting his finger. There was a small cut across the knuckle, but it was otherwise undamaged.

Just a small cut.

Jaune sucked in a large breath of air and tried to calm his adrenaline wracked body.

He was fine. 

Everything was fine.

“Sorry Jaune. We can't really take chances in this business, and you did keep lying. Don’t go eavesdropping again, alight? I think we can both agree it's, like, way more trouble than it's worth, right?”

That was it? She was going to drop it, just like that?

“Definitely,” he agreed hastily. 

He was pretty sure he’d readily agree to pretty much anything she said at this point.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get caught by Mel. And hey, I won't even snitch, how about that? Water under the bridge, yeh?”

“Yep!”

She rolled her eyes, expression changing back to one of bored dismissiveness.

“Oh and I’ll think about your little Aura problem. Junior said you’ll be heading to Beacon so maybe we can all spar together. It would be good to know how we measure up to a Beacon applicant. 

“Yeh, I’d definitely like to spar. Although I’m kind of on the weaker side…”

“I’d imagine so, what, without even having your Aura unlocked.” She cocked one eyebrow cynically, “Now get out of my bedroom before I tell Mel you bled all over her sheets!”

He glanced at the tiniest speck of blood staining the bed where he’d been interrogated.

That wasn’t fair! It wasn’t like that was his fault! 

With a quickly mumbled goodbye, he fled the room and it’s enigmatic, and possibly psychotic, inhabitant.

At least he might get his Aura unlocked and get some sparring practice in.

This was certainly going to be an interesting two weeks.

Jaune grimaced.

He wasn’t sure he wanted ‘interesting’. He already had a plot to try and foil and an entire city to save.

Chapter Text

“For it is in unity that we achieve anonymity. Through this, we become the weapons of the weak to tear down the strong. Infinite in cunning and unbound by ambition, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, free thee.”

Jaune felt his soul sing as a powerful warmth surged through him. The familiar feeling was immensely comforting as he flexed his newly awoken Aura, letting it flow through him, repairing tissue, strengthening muscle and coalescing over his skin like an impenetrable layer of pure golden energy. 

“We have a deal, remember.”

“An Arc always keeps their word.”

“Hmph. Better had, else I really will track you down and start removing digits… ”

“I will, I swear,” he solemnly vowed. He took his promises seriously after all. His fingers too…

“Whatever. Come on. Time to see if you can use that sword of yours,” turned with a wink and began to lead him down the corridor.

“Errr… Right.”

Why did she always word things like that? And no, he wasn’t blushing!

He would keep his end of the bargain, even if he felt like he had made a deal with the devil.

A favour.

That was the cost of unlocking his Aura.

Just the promise of some unspecified future favour.

Naïve, Jaune might be, but even he felt uneasy about such a thing. Unlocking someone’s Aura should have cost him an arm and a leg, and Miltia Malachite didn’t really seem to be one for generosity. He shuddered to think of just how much that favour would inevitably cost him.

Still, it was necessary.

She led him into the club’s main dance floor, where Melenie was already waiting, foot tapping impatiently and wearing her usual scowl.

He’d gotten slightly more familiar with the two over the last few days he’d been working at The Club. They hadn’t interacted much in that time, beyond the occasional greeting or business related small talk that was expected of them as colleagues. Still, he felt he understood the two a little better now. Despite their many similarities, the two were quite different. Miltia had been far more receptive to him. Amicable and more patient while Melenie was… not. 

That wasn’t to say Miltia was exactly warm and welcoming either, just less cold and irritable than her sister.

Not that that was exactly a high bar to beat.

Jaune drew Crocea Mors from its sheath and sighed.

It still felt off.

Slightly too heavy.

Slightly unnatural.

Awkward.

He expanded the sheath into its shield form and took a defensive stance opposite Melenie as indicated.

Feet planted firmly. Knees slightly bent to lower his centre of balance. Body turned to provide a smaller target. Shield up. Blade up at a forty-five degree angle. Eyes on the opponent.

He checked off the many things Pyrrha had drilled into him during their training.

“Alright. Ready when you ar-”

His sentence was cut off as the girl appeared before him in a white blur, bladed heel viciously arcing down towards his head. 

He staggered back, managing to avoid the blow by a hair's breadth as the space before his face was sliced through with a deadly whistling.

He had no chance to recover as she landed and her other other leg snapped up towards him. He desperately backpedalled further, managing to mostly deflect the incoming attack with the shield he was flailing about amateurishly.

She was like an unstoppable whirlwind of violence and aggression that he simply couldn’t get even a moment's respite from.

He took a hurried step to the side to try and get some space, only to have one of his legs kicked out from under him with a flash of gold and a crackle as his Aura protected him from potential dismemberment. He let out a pained yelp as he was sent sprawling to the floor just in time to watch the deadly bladed boot cut through the air above him, where he had stood just a second beforehand.

He scrambled back against the ground and managed to weakly raise his shield over his torso as his opponent's heel came crashing down into it with an unimaginable force and crushing it into him with another crackle of spent Aura and a pained wince.

He rolled to the side and began to rise only for his eyes to find his opponent again and widen in surprise. 

She was already before him, heel whipping through the air towards his temple.

He couldn't get his shield up in time. 

He flared his Aura in anticipation as the blow landed and sent him flying off his feet. Pain exploded from the side of his head and the room spun wildly before he crashed painfully into a table.

Dizzy and disoriented, tried to rise again only to have the blurry room twist around him in an impossibly nauseating spiral. His shaking feet somehow missed the floor and he suddenly found himself face down on the ground without much understanding of how he’d got there.

The edges of his vision darkened as he tried to collect his scattered thoughts only to have them dance away from his grasp as confusion clouded his mind.

Jaune was tired.

He needed a nap.

Yep. A nap sounded really good right now.

He let the darkness take over as he slipped away from the aching pain that permitted through his body, and fell into the comfort of unconsciousness.

A day of resting later, much to Junior’s annoyance, though thankfully directed at Melanie rather than at him, Jaune had come to a decision.

A decision though up through the hazy, stuffy headed concussion he'd been gifted in his spar against Melanie, but a decision none-the-least.

He didn't actually have to wait until he got into Beacon to tell Professor Ozpin about the attack. Pyrrha had mentioned she had been with the Headmaster and General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch and a sarcastic man named ‘Qrow’.

While the first three of those people were unavailable to him at the moment, the last one might not be.

Ruby had mentioned having an uncle called Qrow.

Maybe it was a coincidence, but as far as Jaune knew, the name ‘Qrow’ was a pretty uncommon one. Add to that, Ruby's two year early enrolment at Beacon, and perhaps the idea that her uncle was ‘in’ on the big Beacon conspiracy wasn't all that far-fetched.

Jaune might not be able to get into the Academy let alone talk to its senior instructors and be taken seriously as a random teenager, but he could find Ruby's uncle and tell him. 

Sure, he might still be laughed out and dismissed by the man, but it was worth a shot at least.

He also had a solid lead on the man. 

He knew Ruby's uncle worked at Signal.

Patch wasn't all that large and it was close enough to Beacon that he could probably get a Bullhead ride there without much issue. From there he could just wait outside the combat school for him to go home for the day and go and talk to him.

His story might be ridiculous, but hopefully his knowledge of the comatosed Amber and her having some kind of magic power that someone was after would at least give him some degree of credibility.

Jaune groggily made his way to the Vale Central Bullhead Depot, still feeling rather sore. He pocketed his scroll and mentally filled away the article he'd been reading about a White Fang heist of some Atlesian military cargo that had been on its way to Vale.

The White Fang was absolutely a problem that needed addressing as soon as possible.

According to ‘Henry Marigold’, the author of the article, while most of the train was thought to have been attacked and hijacked by the notorious terrorist group, one of the freight cars had been found alone in the Forever Fall Forest, with its apparently untouched cargo still inside.

The reporter had gone on to list some possible theories about both the secretive cargo that had been stolen and the mysteriously abandoned freight car, made only more confusing by the recently dug, unmarked and empty grave that had been found at the site of the unplundered cargo with only a White Fang mask on it.

Peculiar, to say the least.

Jaune put the story out of his mind as he approached the ticket booking machine at the Bullhead station. Despite the unusually busy station, filled with stressed and worried looking people, there was no queue for the machine, a fact he understood a moment later as he looked at the screen.

‘ALL BULLHEADS HAVE BEEN GROUNDED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. WE ARE SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.’

Grounded? Why? How?

They couldn't just ground all the Bullheads could they?

That sounded serious.

His uneasy thoughts wandered back to the White Fang. 

Had they been behind this? Was there some kind of attack?

He jumped as his thoughts were interrupted by the obnoxiously happy tune of his scroll’s ringtone.

moving away from the machine he pulled out the scroll and looked at the incoming call.

‘Mum’.

The unease tugging at his stomach intensified as he looked at the caller’s name.

Once more the guilt of running away from his family in Ansel crushed down on him.

What would he tell them? They must be worried sick. He had forgotten how he had received multiple calls from his mother and sisters during the first month since his runaway. 

He never had answered…

This… This wasn't the time. He needed to find ‘Qrow’. All of Vale was in danger! His friends were in danger.

Taking a deep breath he declined the call, cutting off the happy music from his favourite cartoon that juxtaposed against the weight of guilt that squeezed down on him even harder.

Cowardice.

That's what it was.

He was a coward who couldn't face talking to his family even to reassure them he was alright.

He was busy. 

He'd call them later.

This was more important, right?

Yes. It was definitely more important.

Definitely…

Although, it had given him an idea. He scrolled through the contacts and selected the one he was looking for.

‘Junior’.

‘Ringing…’

He waited impatiently as the Scroll continued to ring.

“Jaune.”

“Um, hi Junior. Do you know why all the Bullheads are grounded?”

He could hear the man sigh.

“Kid, I don't know nothing unless there's money in it.”

He wasn't even all that surprised anymore.

“How much?”

He did at least have a little bit of Lien from working for Junior that he had been planning to spend on getting a lift to Patch.

“How much you got?”

The last time he'd told Junior how much he had, the man had charged him for all of it. He wasn't doing that again.

“Twenty-five Lien.”

“Ha! Liar. Good to see you're wisening up a bit, kid. Forty-five and I'm an open book.”

Jaune seriously doubted Junior had ever been ‘an open book’ with anyone, ever.

Still, he did have forty-five Lien. Just about. Though he wouldn't be able to afford a lift to Patch afterwards, till he made a bit more. And if this was due to a White Fang attack, then he needed to know. Especially if it hadn't happened originally.

“What about thirty-fiv-”

“No deal. Fifty Lien or I hang up.”

“Fifty! You said forty-five!”

“Yeh, I did, and now I'm saying fifty. You want me to raise it again as an attitude tax?”

What the hell!

“...fine. Fifty. I'll send it to you now, alright?”

“Pleasure doing business with you, kid.”

He grimaced as he sent over the last of his dwindling funds. Damn Junior and his stupid exploitation.

“Done. So why is everything grounded?”

“Something to do with Beacon. All civilian and military flights have been grounded with almost no explanation. It started about an hour ago and they haven't said how long it will last. It seems something real secretive or real important is going on at Beacon for them to flex their influence like this. Honestly, that's all I know. Something big is happening somewhere though and it's causing quite the upset on just about every level. Some civilian flights being cancelled is just the very tip of the iceberg. Later Jaune. Your shift starts in a few hours, remember.”

Junior hung up without waiting for a response.

Was this it? Was there some kind of attack going on earlier this time? Had this happened last time?

Jaune pocketed the scroll and ran towards the edge of the city. 

It wasn't long before he was sprinting out through the city walls and into the Emerald Forest, towards Beacon. 

Thankfully, there wasn't much of the forest between the city and the combat academy and now that he had his Aura unlocked he could probably make it to Beacon on foot in about twenty minutes without getting mangled by any of the low level Grimm that inhabited the area.

Had the attack started immediately this time around? 

He needed to tell Professor Ozpin everything as soon as possible if it had.

The memory of the Red Witch floating down from the destroyed elevator and into the underground bunker, wicked black bow drawn and trained on Amber's incapacitated form. Her face had been obscured by the molten orange flames that seemed to burn in place of her eyes that were locked onto her target as she had leased the killing arrow that pierced effortlessly through Amber's pod.

Had she come early? 

Had the attack already started?

He stumbled through the undergrowth and vaulted over a fallen tree. 

How long did he have?

It was possible this was unrelated. Maybe it had happened before and he hadn't noticed. He hadn't had any reason to try and fly on this day, originally. Maybe it was fine. Maybe it was nothing and he was overreacting.

The sickening pit that rested ominously in his stomach seemed unaffected by his desperate hopes. 

He sprinted around a small group of juvenile Beowolves and continued towards the faint green glow of Beacon's top most tower.

It had to be something else. She couldn't be here. Not yet. Not so soon. Surely.

His lungs burnt and his legs ached as he pushed them beyond anything they'd had to do before coming to Vale. 

A year of exercise and Huntsman training had honed his body by more than he had ever noticed until it was all reversed.

Panting and gasping, he pulled himself up over a small rocky ledge and into a clearing with a good view up at the towering Academy. 

Taking a moment to recover, he stopped and stared up at it as he coughed and hacked up acidic phlegm through his parched throat.

It didn't look like it was under attack… 

He bent over again and sucked in more refreshingly cold air before grasping the stitch in his side and peering back up at the school.

Through the gloom he thought he could see something flying towards Beacon.

For a split second the memory of the mythical dragon Grimm horror flashed through his mind. The paralyzing terror passed a second later as he released it was far too small to be that.

It looked more like it might be the size of a large Bullhead. Atlesian, if he were to guess from what little he'd seen of the designs of their Bullheads and airships during their time hovering ominously above the city.

He watched as the aircraft approached one of Beacon's landing pads in the distance and landed without incident.

Weren't even military Bullheads supposed to be grounded?

He opted to simply watch as two people stood at the edge of the platform, apparently waiting for the Bullhead’s approach. He couldn't make out their identities at such a distance and the last of the evening's dying light didn't make it much easier.

They didn't seem panicked though. Perhaps there was no emergency, although it still left him with a lot of questions.

The Bullhead doors opened and several people emerged carrying something long between them as they approached they're small welcoming party.

If only he had some binoculars or something so he could see who they were or what they were carrying. After all, just because they might be from Atlas didn't mean this wasn't malicious. It had been Atlesian robots that had swarmed the city gunning down innocent civilians during the attack, after all. 

Realisation slammed into him as he realised how stupid he'd been. He opened up his Scroll again and pressed record before holding it up to point at the gathering and zoom in as much as the device would allow him to.

The picture quality wasn't great but he could at least make out the identities of those present.

To his relief, the two who had been waiting, and whom we're now talking with the arrivals, were professors Ozpin and Goodwitch.

The others seemed to be Atlesian soldiers carrying some kind of mechanical stretcher-pod-thing between them. They seemed to be led by a hunched man in red and blacks with greying black hair and a beard of unkempt stubble.

He looked back towards the stretcher and tried to make out the half obscured person within. It took a few seconds of scrutiny, before the brown bob of hair, and brown leather armour pieces clicked in his brain with a gasp.

That was Amber, wasn't it?

This must be when she had been injured and taken to Beacon! That was why everything was grounded. It was to ensure nothing could intercept or attack the shuttle that she was arriving in.

As if to further confirm his theory, the stretcher was covered in purple energy as Professor Goodwitch waved her riding crop towards it and caused it to levitate away from the soldiers and hover next to her as she turned and walked away towards Beacon, presumably to take her down to her would-be tomb.

Not this time though. This time things would be different. He'd make sure of it. 

He ended the recording and pocketed the device once more. Maybe he could even work out what they had been saying? Maybe he’d find someone good at lipreading.

Something rustled in the bushes behind him and he immediately snapped around, drew his sword and shield, and dropped into a defensive stance ready to defend himself against whatever had approached him.

He scanned the bushes but saw nothing. A Grimm was the most obvious answer, yet nothing burst out ready to try and kill him. 

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the uneasy sensation of something watching him settled in his stomach.

An animal perhaps?

He kept as still and quiet as possible as he continued to scan the dimly lit forest around him.

He stayed like that for a minute before there was another small rustle in the trees above him and the feeling of being watched subsided.

Somewhat reassured that there wasn't some kind of big change or early attack, he began to make his way back towards the city and tried to put the question of what or who had been watching him behind him.

He was just glad not to see any monolithic Dragon Grimm descending upon the city. Where had that thing even come from?

“Yeh, kinda like that but, like, less…

“Shit.”

He glared over at the other twin lounging on one of the sofas and almost had Miltia’s crimson claws tear out his throat for his troubles. Thank god for Aura.

Or Gods. Remnant had a lot of weird religions after all.

“Focus. Don't look at her.”

“Wow. Classic jealousy there, Mil.”

“Shut up, Mel. You're just jealous you don't have a future Huntsman owing you a favour.”

“Pah. A future dead Huntsman at this rate. I don't know why you, like, even bother.”

“It's an investment. No, no, not like that! It's all about footwork. You need to dictate how close you are to your opponent at all times. Against a super aggressive opponent like Melanie, you might just have to keep on backing up and flanking.”

“I'm not aggressive, bitch!”

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at that and a second later Miltia had hooked her claws around the edge of his shield and yanked it from his grip, sending it clattering away behind her and pulling him completely off balance.

Another second later and had been flipped over her hip and landed hard on his back with Miltia on top of him, claws crossed over his throat.

She at least had the decency not to end the spar with him unconscious.

“Focus, idiot! You're, like, way too easily distracted.”

He was beaten to replying by Melenie.

“I guess I am a very distracting woman. You wouldn't understand, Mil.”

“Shut. Up. Melanie!”

Jaune was pretty sure he could see where this was headed. Seven sisters meant even an oblivious idiot like him could see when someone was trying to start a fight with their sibling. 

The difference here was that he really didn't want to be in the same room when they inevitably started slashing at each other.

Also unlike when his sisters fought, he felt absolutely no responsibility to try and break them up or play peacekeeper or mediator.

Nope, Jaunes shift would start soon and he was not going to be missing another night of pay because one of them had concussed him again.

He'd actually improved a fair bit during the last few days sparing with the two, although mostly with Miltia. He was still out of shape, uncoordinated and felt like all his gear was oddly heavy and awkward to wield. That said, while most of his training during his time at Beacon had been about slaying Grimm and trying to perfect the fundamentals with Pyrrha, he had found it incredibly difficult to defend himself against aggressive and less orthodox fighters. After just a few days with the twins he had gotten much better at dealing with such fighting styles.

Unfortunately, ‘a lot better’ didn't mean ‘good’. They still wiped the floor with him every time, but he was at least able to keep control of the fight a bit more and last a little longer before succumbing to their lightning fast and unrelenting barrage of attacks.

Thankfully, his captor brought her weapons away from his neck as she stood up and turned to continue bickering with her sister. Jaune unrepentantly took that as his opportunity to slip away and made his way to the club’s bar in order to start his shift early, before he was roped into anything else by his tormentors.

Perhaps that was a little bit dramatic but still.

He was assigned door duty for the first half of the night by Junior and had an unremarkable first few hours at his post. Apparently, tonight wasn't destined to be as uninteresting as the others as someone caught his eye.

Wait! Was that- What? Yang? Why? Wha-

The blond in question gave him a broad grin and a particularly saucy wink as she turned and continued through the crowd, apparently taking his incoherent spluttering and astonished staring at seeing her here, as something else.

Why was Yang at Junior’s Club?

Didn't she live on Patch?

Actually, Jaune wasn't entirely sure if there were any night clubs on Patch, so maybe it did make some sense. 

Still, of all the options, why Junior's club?

He wanted to go find her and find out. Perhaps even befriend her earlier this time around.

Not that he was really friends with her last time. They were more like friends by association, given the fact that she was Ruby's sister. And teammate.

Still, they'd always got along fine, so it would have been nice to get better acquainted earlier.

Unfortunately, he had a job to do.

He turned back to an impatient looking teenager holding out his ID expectantly.

Shame. Maybe if she was still here later, once he was off door duty they'd be able to talk.

Maybe he’d be able to make a better first impression than last time.

‘Vomit boy’ was a nickname he could probably do without.

He let the guy in and checked the next person's ID. 

Valid.

He let them in without much thought and turned to the next customer.

It would only be a few days until Beacon started and he still wanted to be able to find and talk to Ruby's Uncle before the new term started. He might just about make enough to get a lift to Patch on the day before the semester started.

It would definitely be tight though and there was no guarantee he was even there at the moment. Signal also hadn't started up again yet so the man could be on holiday for all Jaune knew.

Then again, maybe he could ask Yang since she was here. It was a pretty odd thing to ask a stranger at a club but she'd probably find it funny that he approached her just to ask about her uncle.

Although, the plethora of new nicknames and teasing he'd be opening himself up to for the next few years were enough to make him have some second thoughts on going for that approach.

He could imagine it now: ‘Hey girl, the name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it. Sooo… where's your uncle Qrow and how do I get in touch with him?’

He cringed and grimaced at the thought and let the next confused looking customer in.

Maybe he could just really lean into it and call Qrow her hot, single uncle. Maybe add an eyebrow wiggle in there to really cover up the potential awkwardness with that truly outrageous statement… 

Nope, he’d still rather not go with that approach.

Still, maybe he could get talking to her and it might come up organically and he’d be-

A deafening crash came from within the club behind him.

What in the world?

The line of apprehensive looking club-goers scattered a second later as a series of deafening bangs echoed from within the club accompanied by the sounds of shattering glass.

It took a moment for him to recover from the shock and quickly make his way into the building only to have to fight through the crowd of fleeing customers that surged out through the doors, matching expressions of panic and fear written across each of their faces.

Move thunderous bangs and crashes could be heard as he finally fought his way into the room only to immediately be brought up short by what he saw within.

The deafening music still blared out throughout the room and the pulsing strobe lights scattered off the thousands of tiny shards of shattered glass that had once been luxurious pillars. Junior was sat slumped against the bar, hopefully just disorientated or unconscious. 

Hopefully.

Ultimately what drew his immediate attention through the carnage and fleeing crowd was the fight that was currently raging in the centre of the room. It wasn’t exactly the normal type of drunken fight, either.

A dozen of Juniors men were desperately trying to fight off the golden haired blitz of recoil propelled punches that was Yang Xiao Long.

Why? Why would Yang be fighting Junior’s men? How had this happened? 

Wait, was she firing off actual shotgun shells?

In a crowded room?

Against Aura-less bouncers?

Sure, she wasn't firing Ember Celia at said vulnerable bouncers, instead using the recoil to launch her fists forwards, but the blasts were still going off dangerously close to civilians, and he couldn't help but wince as some of the recoil enhanced blows undoubtedly shattered bone and potentially did even worse damage.

He was snapped out of his confusion as one of the bouncers was brutally incapacitated and sent flying across the room towards him. 

He ducked the (hopefully okay) bouncer and hurried through the chaos towards the fight as the few remaining combatants were savagely taken out of the fight.

She was so far out of their league, Jaune would barely even call it a fight. 

Coming up behind her he drew Crocea Mors and deployed his shield, before hurriedly adjusting his stance to try and match Pyrrha’s instructions.

On the other side of Yang, the twins sauntered out, looking extremely irritated.

“Melanie, who is this girl?”

“I don't know, Miltia, but we should teach her a lesson.”

This wasn't going to go well…

Yang looked between the sisters and him before grinning in anticipation.

Jaune had a really bad feeling about this.

“What's going on here? What happened?”

He wasn't really sure if his question was addressed to Miltia and Melanie, or to Yang, but he would really prefer to have some answers, and hopefully resolve this without getting knocked out. 

…Again.

Or worse.

He'd also really like to know that he was actually on the right side here. To Jaune’s knowledge, Junior was, at least until his mysterious association with Roman Torchwick had been revealed, a fairly benign criminal, but a big league criminal nonetheless. Yang was a Signal graduate and Beacon applicant. She was a Huntsman in training. A future hero and defender of Humanity.

Was he on the wrong side of this conflict?

He really wanted some more context to explain how this had happened.

Even if she was in the right, she had seemed pretty reckless and unnecessarily violent. Then again, wasn't that just Yang in a nutshell?

“I’m not sure, Jauney. But what's gonna happen is this bitch is gonna pay for this mess…”

Thanks, Melanie.Really helpful…

He didn't get a chance to reply before Yang snapped Ember Celia open and ejected the shower of spent shotgun micro shells and finished reloading before launching herself towards the twins.

This really hadn't been how he'd imagined remeeting any members of team JNPR or RWBY.

He blocked the shotgun pellets and cautiously approached the fierce three way fight with his shield raised and at the ready.

He blocked a boneshaking punch and slashed at Yang's Aura shielded torso only for her to spin out of the way and leave him to go stumble past off balance and overextended. 

He recovered quickly and spun back around to see the twins demonstrate a beautiful flurry of perfectly synchronised attacks and send Yang flying backwards. 

Together the Malachite sisters were a truly skilled force to be reckoned with, but one that Yang seemed completely unfazed by as she recovered with a broad, eager and bloodthirsty grin.

A second later she fired off Ember Celia behind her and was launched through the air towards them again, a fresh barrage of blows raining down on them as she went on a devastating offensive. 

He ducked a savage kick aimed up at his jaw and quickly backed up to avoid the lightning fast recoil propelled fist that followed it up. 

He just needed to keep a safe distance between them like Miltia had been painfully demonstrating all week.

He'd try and keep her focus, blocking strikes with his shield whilst the twins danced around her striking out at any openings she left.

Unbidden, the comparison to the video games he'd played with his sisters came to mind. He would effectively be acting as the ‘tank’ whilst the twins were the ‘dps’. Yang didn't seem to be able to get the upper hand on them whilst they were able to fight her as a team. 

He deflected another punch and took a series of scurried steps backwards to try and keep some space between them without letting her change focus to Miltia or Melanie.

He also couldn't help but think about how he'd try to win if he were in Yang's place. Maybe Professor Ozpin really did know what he had been doing, making Jaune the leader of Team JNPR? If he were Yang, he’d want to split them up to disrupt the unrelenting flow and perfectly synced fighting of the twins. She could almost definitely beat either one if she could separate them for a minute. If it were him, he'd try to ignore the ‘tank’ and try to do as much damage to one of the girls as fast as possible in the hopes they would go down, or at least be briefly incapacitated. Maybe she would be able to take him out whilst he tried to maintain their current distance if she had a longer ranged weapon but instead she only had…

The realisation hit him just a second too late.

Yang might have been a hot-headed and instinct driven fighter, but she certainly wasn't stupid.

Ember Celia did have a ranged option.

He was mid step back and deflecting a particularly vicious kick to his ribs as the realisation hit. He desperately tried to drag his shield up to protect his head as she blindly ducked Melanie’s kick and battered Miltia aside and levelled one armoured, and more importantly, weaponised, fist with his face.

He didn't even see the flash of the integrated shotgun go off before he was sent violently spinning through the air, the club spiralling out around him with a brief sensation of weightlessness before crashing into an already ruined bar.

The next second he was face down in a pool of strong smelling alcohol and shattered glass. He tried to move and immediately found out he couldn't. A cacophony of sounds bombarded his frazzled senses, but he couldn't make any sense of any of it as he slowly tried and failed to understand the blurry colours and jumbled noise assaulting his foggy mind. 

He couldn’t help but note that this was the second time he’d been lying on this floor, fading out of consciousness.

Something smashed somewhere above as it slowly faded away along with all the other echoing noises.

The last thought that drifted through his discombobulated mind was how thankful he was that he had his massive Aura unlocked again.