[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[AJ_Talon]

Charity

The new Schnee Manor was alive with soft lighting, crystal chandeliers, and the quiet murmur of Atlas's elite. The event was a charity gala raising funds for those still displaced and struggling in the long shadow of the Salem War.

Ruby Schnee walked in. She had just returned from a quick Grimm hunt near the SDC mines with Weiss and Jaune. Her combat skirt was still slightly dusty, her cloak a little rumpled, but her silver eyes lit up the moment she spotted her husband across the room.

And then she saw her.

A tall, overly made-up woman in a slinky crimson dress was practically draped over Whitley's arm, laughing far too loudly at something he hadn't said. One of her manicured hands rested possessively on his chest as she leaned in close, clearly trying her luck with the richest, most eligible war hero on the planet.

Whitley's expression was the picture of strained politeness. He was scanning for an escape that wouldn't cause a scene, because of course he was.

He had been raised to always consider optics, especially at events like this.

Ruby, on the other hand, hadn't.

She crossed the ballroom with purposeful strides, Weiss and Jaune trailing behind her with matching amused expressions.

Without a word, Ruby slid between Whitley and the woman, wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, and kissed him soundly: Deep, warm, and unmistakably possessive.

Whitley made a surprised sound before melting into it, one hand settling on her waist (where it belonged).

When Ruby finally pulled back, she kept one arm looped around his neck and turned toward the woman with a sweet, menacing smile that could have frozen Vacuo in summer.

"Husband?" she asked, voice dripping with faux politeness. "Who is this girl?"

The woman in red froze, her hand still hovering awkwardly in the air where Whitley's arm had been.

Whitley, cheeks slightly flushed but visibly relieved, wrapped his arm more securely around Ruby's waist.

"Ruby, this is Miss Liora Veyne. She was just… expressing interest in the charity." He looked down at his wife with open affection. "Miss Veyne, this is my wife, Ruby Schnee."

Ruby's smile sharpened, silver eyes glinting like polished blades.

"Oh? How lovely. Thank you so much for supporting the cause. We really appreciate people who are generous... And know how to keep their hands to themselves when it comes to other women's husbands."

The woman stammered something about refreshments and quickly retreated into the crowd, tail between her legs. The conversation became a bit louder, as though everyone was trying to move on from the incident.

Whitley let out a quiet breath and looked down at Ruby with a mix of pride and amusement.

"You handled that remarkably well," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "No murder. No property damage. A proper Schnee indeed."

Ruby grinned up at him, still holding onto him tightly. "I'm learning. But if she touches you again, I will Crescent Rose her into next week."

Whitley chuckled softly. "I have no doubt."

Weiss, who had been watching from a few feet away with Jaune, rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk.

"Congratulations, brother. You've successfully trained the most dangerous woman on Remnant to be passive-aggressive instead of homicidal."

Ruby stuck her tongue out at her sister-in-law.

Jaune just laughed. "I think Ruby domesticated him, actually."

Whitley looked down at his wife, still in her slightly dusty combat gear, silver eyes sparkling with mischief and love, and felt a warmth in his chest that no amount of wealth or status could ever replicate.

He kissed her again, slower this time, right there in the middle of the charity gala, uncaring of who was watching.

"Let them stare," he whispered against her lips. "I'd rather have you than their approval any day."

Ruby's smile was bright enough to light up the entire room.

And for the rest of the evening, no one dared approach Whitley Schnee without first acknowledging the terrifyingly happy woman on his arm.

 

[AJ_Talon]

Cowboys of Remnant - Chapter 42 - AndrewJTalon - RWBY [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

archiveofourown.org

Jaune meets an old rival: And Pyrrha might pay the price.

- - -

The frontier town smelled of dust and cattle. JNPR had been tracking bandit activity for days when the stranger stepped out from behind a water tower, hands in his coat pockets, pink scarf fluttering like a taunt.

The man tipped his black hat. "Well, well. That any way to greet an old friend, Jaune?"

Jaune's hand was on Crocea Mors before the sentence finished. "State your business, Floyd."

Floyd's smile was all teeth. "Right to the point as always." He tipped his hat to the others. "Ladies. Sir. Pleasure."

Nora bounced forward. "Who's this guy, Fearless Leader?"

Floyd grinned. "Old cattle-drive buddies. Until Jaune decided to play hero."

Jaune's voice was flat iron. "Until you sold us out for an armored gold transport."

"It was written off! Lost! Ours for the taking. I would've split it fair—"

"That why you shot Bob and Nash in the back while their guns were still holstered?"

Floyd's smile twitched. "They wanted more than their share. Drew first."

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "Funny. Their pieces were still snapped in when we found the bodies."

Floyd shrugged. "I would've shared with you, Jaune. Even Old Man Rooster. But you had to be high and mighty."

"If you want revenge, take it on me," Jaune said. "Leave my team out of it."

Pyrrha stepped forward. "Jaune, no—"

Floyd's eyes gleamed. "Oh, I intend to. But first… some fun."

A tiny pink fairy no bigger than a firefly shot from his pupil, zipped across twenty yards, and dove straight into Pyrrha's ear.

Pyrrha's body locked rigid. Milo snapped into rifle mode and pressed under her own chin.

"PYRRHA!" Jaune roared.

She fought it, veins bulging. "I—I can't stop—!"

Three weapons trained on Floyd in an instant.

Floyd cackled. "Finally perfected my Semblance. Little thing called Lover's Fairies. Range is miles. Gets in the brain. I can make her pull the trigger… or just scramble the eggs and leave her smiling and drooling."

He made Pyrrha cock the rifle.

Jaune's voice cracked. "What do you want?!"

"I want you to suffer, Jaune Arc. And this?" He gestured at Pyrrha. "This is leverage."

He forced Pyrrha to grab Jaune by the collar and kiss him hard. Both went wide-eyed. Floyd howled with laughter.

"Figured you two do that all the time anyway. She looks like a slut."

Ren physically hauled Nora back before Magnhild could turn Floyd into modern art.

Floyd wiped a tear. "Here's how this works, Jaune. You do whatever I say, whenever I say it. Or the Invincible Girl paints the street with her brains. Deal?"

Jaune's voice dropped to a whisper. "Ren. Nora. Find a way to fix this. I'll buy time."

Ren's eyes were steel. "We will."

Pyrrha's voice shook. "I'll hold on."

Nora growled, but nodded.

Jaune faced Floyd. "Fine. You've got your hostage. Let's get this over with."

Floyd's grin was pure poison. "Excellent."

What followed was three hours of living hell.

Floyd made Jaune lie face-down in the street while he used Jaune's back as a footrest, sipping whiskey and telling the gathering crowd exactly how Jaune had "betrayed" him.

Next, Floyd whistled up three drunk ranch hands who still nursed a grudge from the old cattle-drive days. "Five hundred lien and you can beat him all you like! He'll keep his Aura down just for you!"

They took turns. Fists, elbows, a knee to the ribs that cracked something. Jaune coughed blood into the dust and didn't make a sound. Pyrrha's knuckles went white on Milo, tears of pure rage in her eyes, but the rifle never left her skin.

He forced Jaune to walk into the general store, stuff his pockets with candy and liquor, and walk out without paying while the shopkeeper watched in horror.

Then came the public apology. Floyd dragged Jaune to the center of town, forced him to his knees, and made him recite:

"I, Jaune Arc, am a thief, a liar, and a coward. I betrayed my friends and deserve everything I get."

Every word tasted like rust, but Jaune said them loud and clear while Floyd's fairy kept Pyrrha's rifle pressed to her own temple.

Floyd even made him dance—actually dance—a clumsy, stumbling jig in the middle of the street while the bandit clapped and laughed until he wheezed.

Through all of it, Jaune's eyes never left Pyrrha's. A silent promise in every bruise, every drop of blood: We'll get through this.

Ren and Nora worked in the shadows the whole time. Ren's Aura senses were very keen. He studied every bit of the Aura link of the Semblance, every time Floyd made Pyrrha do something. Nora was grim, chomping at the bit, but she let Ren work on it. She stayed silent.

Every time Jaune hesitated, Floyd twitched a finger and Pyrrha's rifle barrel dug deeper into her own chin.

But Ren and Nora kept working. They waited… Waited for just the right moment. Jaune spotted them as they hid behind a small wagon near Pyrrha.

"Hey, Jauney-Boy!" Floyd giggled. He tossed a Dust Grenade up and down in his hand. "You got a choice: You take the grenade blast… Or your slut does. What'll it be?"

Jaune grit his teeth as Pyrrha's eyes widened in horror.

"Jaune, no-!"

"Don't make a sound, Pyrrha," he stated angrily. "Not a damn word!"

She glanced at him, followed his eyes… And slowly nodded.

He took a deep breath and glared at Floyd.

"Fine," Jaune grunted. He walked away from it, keeping Floyd's eyes on him. He held his arms out. "Go right ahead."

Floyd grinned, tugging the pin and tossing the grenade at Jaune. A large explosion went off, blowing Jaune off his feet and slamming him into the dirt. The force of the blast knocked the wagon over, as Floyd cackled.

Pyrrha grit her teeth, tried not to cry out as she threw herself behind the overturned wagon. She looked up into Ren's eyes.

The green glad ninja pressed both palms to Pyrrha's temples, his Semblance pouring calm like ice water over her emotions, dulling her Aura just enough to interfere with Floyd's connection to his Semblance.

Nora's grenade produced a single, low-yield lightning round. She jammed the barrel against Pyrrha's ear and whispered, "Sorry, bestie."

CRACK!

A bolt of pink lightning shot out of Pyrrha's ear as the fairy inside flash-fried.

Pyrrha dropped to one knee, gasping, free.

Floyd's eyes widened as he felt his fairy die. He spun around, glaring at the overturned wagon. "You little-!"

He tried to spawn another fairy.

Jaune, bloody, bruised, and furious, got up, drew his sidearm and shot the new fairy out of the air before it could clear three feet.

Floyd went for his revolver.

A bronze blur later, Akoúo̱ slammed into his wrist and sent the gun spinning into the dirt.

Pyrrha Nikos, eyes burning, stepped forward.

"My turn."

The beatdown was biblical.

Nora brought the hammer down (literally). Ren delivered precise, surgical strikes that would ensure Floyd felt every one for weeks. Pyrrha beat the shit out of him, breaking his limbs and jaw, before she finished it with a single, contemptuous backhand that sent Floyd face-first into a water trough. His face broke it in half, and left him a soaked, broken mess.

Jaune staggered over to the nearest porch, and sat down. He was bruised, bleeding, and grinning like an idiot.

Pyrrha knelt beside him, gently touching his split lip.

"You okay?"

He laughed, hoarse but genuine. "Never better."

Nora whooped, pumping Magnhild in the air. "That's what you get for messing with our fearless leader!"

Ren allowed himself the tiniest smile. "And our Pyrrha."

Floyd groaned from the trough, half-drowned.

Pyrrha, hands trembling, cupped Jaune's bruised face.

"Jaune… thank you. You went through hell for me."

He looked at her, eyes soft despite everything.

"Pyrrha." His voice was hoarse, but steady as bedrock. "I was never going to stop. Not until you were safe. Not ever."

She stared at him, tears finally spilling over.

Then she kissed him—gentle, desperate, tasting of dust and relief and everything they hadn't said yet.

 

[AJ_Talon]

The Weight of a Name

Ruby had always known her mother was special.

Summer Rose wasn't just a Huntress — she was the Huntress. The one who smiled through impossible odds, who had made everyone around her feel like they could be heroes too. Ruby had spent years trying to live up to that legacy, chasing the same silver-eyed dream.

But lately, pieces of the puzzle were starting to shift in ways that made her stomach twist.

It started during a quiet evening in the Xiao Long-Rose household during a weekend home. Taiyang was in the kitchen, Qrow was three drinks in and unusually talkative, and Ruby was helping fold laundry when the subject of old missions came up.

"Your mom and Ozpin went way back," Qrow had said, swirling the last of his whiskey. "Closer than most people knew. He trusted her with things he didn't trust anyone else with. Hell, sometimes I wondered if—"

He'd cut himself off with a cough, suddenly very interested in the bottom of his glass.

Ruby had laughed it off at the time. "What, like they were secret best friends or something?"

Qrow had just grunted. "Something like that, kid."

But the seed had been planted.

Then came the old mission logs she found in Ozpin's office while helping with paperwork. Summer's name appeared again and again — always in the most dangerous assignments, always with personal notes from Ozpin himself. "Summer, be careful." "Summer, I need your eyes on this." "Summer… thank you."

And then there was the photo.

A faded picture tucked between two reports: Summer and Ozpin standing side-by-side after some long-forgotten victory. They weren't touching, but the way they looked at each other — the quiet understanding, the soft smile on Summer's face, the rare warmth in Ozpin's eyes — made something cold settle in Ruby's chest.

They were very close.

The thought wouldn't leave her alone.

It all came to a head one rainy afternoon when Qrow was visiting again. Ruby had been helping him clean his weapons when she finally cracked.

"Uncle Qrow?" she asked, voice small. "You said Mom and Ozpin were close. Like… how close?"

Qrow froze, cloth halfway across Harbinger's blade. He didn't look at her.

"Kid…"

"Was he… was he more than just her boss?" Ruby's hands twisted in her cloak. "Because the way people talk, and the logs, and that picture… it's like they were—"

"Ruby." Qrow's voice was rough. He finally turned to face her, and for once he looked completely sober. "Your mom loved your dad. Tai was her world.

You and Yang were her world. Don't go digging up ghosts that aren't there."

But the damage was done.

That night, Ruby lay awake in her bed at Beacon, staring at the ceiling while her mind spiraled.

What if Ozpin is my real father?

It would explain so much. The silver eyes. The way Ozpin sometimes looked at her like he was seeing a ghost. The way he trusted her with things no student should know. The tension between Ozpin and her dad...

Ruby's hands clenched in her sheets.

What if everything I thought I knew about my family is a lie?

She thought about Taiyang — the man who raised her, who taught her to fight, who still called her "pumpkin" even though she was a leader now. The idea of him not being her real dad made her chest ache.

Ruby rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, fighting back tears.

She didn't want this.

She just wanted to be Ruby Rose.

But the doubt was there now, whispering in the dark like a Grimm that refused to die.

And for the first time in a long while, Ruby wasn't sure if she had the strength to face what might be waiting for her.

 

[AJ_Talon]

The Weight of Truth

The Schnee Mansion felt strangely quiet that evening. Most of the staff had been dismissed for the night, and the massive halls echoed with a kind of fragile peace. Ruby Rose sat curled up on a plush couch in one of the smaller sitting rooms, her cloak draped over her shoulders like a security blanket. Whitley Schnee sat beside her, close enough that their knees touched, his usual rigid posture softened in her presence.

They had only recently rekindled things. It was tentative, careful... but real. And in that fragile new beginning, Ruby had started turning to him for more than just comfort.

Telling him everything that had happened had felt like draining poison from a wound. Everything.

So by the end of it, she was drained, and staring up at him with her pale face.

"So... Um... What do you think?" She whispered softly.

Whitley watched her for a moment before speaking, his voice calm and measured.

"Ruby… we need to talk to General Ironwood."

Ruby tensed slightly, but she didn't pull away. "I know. I just… after Lionheart, I don't know if I can trust him. What if he's hiding something too?"

Whitley nodded. He reached over and gently took her hand.

"I understand why you're hesitant. Lionheart's betrayal shook all of us. But we have to look at the logic here." He leaned forward slightly, eyes steady. "Ironwood's entire current strategy is built around a massive conventional military strike against Salem. If he already knows she's effectively indestructible, then he's deliberately wasting Atlas's entire military strength and resources on a plan he knows cannot succeed. That would make him a saboteur on an unimaginable scale."

He gave her hand a light squeeze.

"But if he doesn't know… then withholding this information means we're letting him pour everything into a doomed attack. We lose time, resources, and momentum we can't afford to lose. The smart play is to tell him. We can keep the Relic as insurance. If he reacts poorly or tries to seize it, we'll know exactly where he stands. But if he's truly on our side, this intel is too critical not to share."

Ruby was quiet for a long moment, chewing on her lip as she processed his words. Her silver eyes flickered with uncertainty.

"I want to believe he's still one of the good guys… but after Lionheart, I keep wondering if I'm just being naive again."

"You're not naive for wanting to trust people," Whitley said gently. "But trust should be earned, not assumed. Especially now. We can be careful. We don't have to give him everything at once. But we do have to give him this."

Ruby let out a long breath and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"…Okay. We'll tell him. But you're coming with me when we do it, right?"

Whitley turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her hair.

"Of course. I'm not letting you face this alone. Not anymore."

 

[AJ_Talon]

Okay, gonna rethink a lot of my earlier naval assumptions for Vale's Defense Force. So, here is a basic roundup:

Major Combatants

• Aerial Supercarriers (Fleet Carriers): Flagships with advanced technology and staying power. Each carries 90–110 aircraft, including strike fighters, Bullheads, and Hunter transports. Few in number due to budget cutbacks and mismanagement.
• Workhorse Carriers / Assault Ships (Light/Medium Carriers): Multi-role ships optimized for Marine/Hunter insertion, smaller air groups (40–60 craft), and sustained regional presence.
• Battleships (Heavy Gun/Missile Platforms): Flagships for action groups; massive Dust-augmented guns + missile and rocket batteries for bombardment and anti-Grimm work.
• Gun Cruisers: Multi-mission escorts with strong anti-air and land-attack capability.
• Gun Destroyers: Workhorse screening vessels; versatile, numerous, and fast.
• Gun Corvettes / Frigates: Patrol, convoy escort, scouting, some close air support.
• Strike Fighters/Gunships: Strike, reconnaissance, air defense, close air support, etc.

Support & Auxiliary Forces

• Support Airships: Logistics, Tankers, Hospital, Repair.
• Marine Expeditionary Air Wings: Full Marine Air-Ground Task Forces (each built around one Assault Ship + attached Marines).
• Huntsmen Detachments: Integrated contracted teams on all major vessels.

Missiles are more akin to air to air missiles in our world, with rockets: Lots of simple missiles with basic homing/guidance systems. Guns are still the main weapon for use against Grimm. Missiles are generally used against enemy ships/craft or more difficult to handle Grimm, with ranges of a few kilometers but higher accuracy than guns. Combat is still largely within visual range between non-carrier ships.

 

[AJ_Talon]

• Name: Madame Bai Zhen (白珍)
• Allusion: Bai Suzhen (Lady White Snake) from the classic Chinese legend The Legend of the White Snake
• Naming Process: Bai (白) means "white," symbolizing purity, grace, and the white snake of legend. Zhen (珍) means "precious" or "treasure," reflecting her value as a rare stabilizing force in Mistral and the deep affection once held for her by Ozpin. Together, her name evokes a priceless white lotus blooming amid political chaos.
• Age: Mid-50s (appears in her early 30s due to exceptional Aura control and graceful aging)
• Background: Many decades ago, before the Great War fully erupted, a younger Ozpin fell deeply in love with Bai Zhen. They were engaged for several years, and she became his beacon of hope — a brilliant, compassionate woman who dreamed of unifying Mistral through wisdom and careful governance. When Ozma's memories fully resurfaced and the weight of his eternal war with Salem consumed him, Ozpin abruptly ended the engagement, believing he could not burden her with his cursed immortality. Heartbroken but never bitter, Bai Zhen dedicated her life to strengthening Mistral so it could one day stand as an equal partner against the darkness. She later married a respected noble lord, Xu Xian, and bore him two children. She grieved his eventual passing while using his wealth and influence to advance her political goals. She has served as Grand Chancellor of the Mistral Central Council for over fifteen years, earning the title "The White Lotus of Anima." Despite Lionheart's betrayal and the constant scheming of the Green, Red, and Yellow Dragon factions, she has slowly centralized power through masterful diplomacy and patient long-term planning.
• Race: Human
• Emblem: A white lotus flower coiled around a serpent's body, with delicate roots reaching into cracked earth — symbolizing beauty, resilience, and quiet control over chaos
• Weapon: "Bai Suzhen" (White Snake): An ancient, elegantly crafted bian (leather whip) with a handle shaped like a coiling white snake. The tip is adorned with a crystalline white lotus that can bloom and release Dust-infused pollen or razor-sharp petal projectiles. The whip moves with serpentine grace, capable of binding, striking, or delivering precise Dust-enhanced lashes.
• Semblance: "Sleep Perchance to Dream"
  • Bai Zhen can induce deep sleep with a touch, bypassing most Aura defenses if she maintains contact long enough. The effect can range from momentary disorientation to hours of unconsciousness, depending on how much Aura she invests. She can also create wide-area calming mists that induce drowsiness in groups, making her exceptionally effective at de-escalating conflicts or neutralizing threats non-lethally.
• Appearance: Tall and ethereally graceful with long, flowing silver-white hair often styled in intricate Mistral braids adorned with jade and pearls. She has striking pale gold eyes and flawless, porcelain-like skin, with a scar from her Huntress days over her right eyebrow. Her beauty is serene and almost mythical.
• Outfit: Flowing white and pale green robes of the highest Mistralian craftsmanship, embroidered with subtle lotus and serpent motifs. She wears elegant golden jewelry and carries herself with regal poise, often draped in a long, translucent white shawl that flows like mist when she moves.
• Personality: Elegant, serene, and razor-sharp. Madame Bai Zhen speaks softly yet commands absolute attention in any room. She is a masterful diplomat and patient strategist who thinks in decades rather than years. Beneath her graceful exterior lies a will of iron and a lingering, quiet sadness. She remains deeply compassionate toward the people of Mistral while being ruthlessly pragmatic in politics. Though she has long accepted Ozpin's decision, she still carries the twin fish pendant he once gave her as a treasured memento. She is capable of great warmth toward allies and terrifying coldness toward those who threaten Mistral's future.
• Notes: As Grand Chancellor, Bai Zhen is one of the most powerful and respected figures in Mistral, holding the fractious Dragon factions in a delicate balance. She continues to work quietly toward creating a strong, unified Mistral that could one day stand beside Ozpin against Salem — even if he no longer wants her by his side. She is a highly skilled Huntress who prefers diplomacy and subtle manipulation but is more than capable of unleashing devastating force when necessary. Her history with Ozpin remains a closely guarded secret known to very few.

She probably would die to ensure the civil war happens but you could hint at Ozpin's past with her.

 

[AJ_Talon]

The Radian Militia's Elite Squads: The Reds & The Blues

To keep morale high and foster healthy (mostly) competition, Captain Nicholas "Nick" Arc officially divided the Radian Militia's most skilled and eccentric members into two elite rapid-response squads: The Reds and The Blues.

The tradition started as a joke during a particularly boring winter training exercise (someone painted half the practice dummies red and the other half blue), but it quickly became a beloved and surprisingly effective part of Radian's defenses.

Despite the constant bickering, pranks, and insults, the Reds and Blues are the militia's go-to teams for high-risk missions, Grimm incursions, and bandit hunts. They work together far better than they'll ever admit.

Arturia and Shirou have been known to referee their more ridiculous competitions and Coral and Verdy do technical support for both. The Sith family provides mechanical and vehicle support.

---

The Reds – "Blood, Guts, and Glory"
Motto: "If it's red, it's dead."

Role: Shock troops, heavy assault, and overwhelming firepower.

• Sergeant "Sarge" Harlan: Loud, gravelly-voiced veteran with a thick mustache and a cybernetic eye. Obsessed with "proper military procedure" (which usually means shooting first and asking questions never). He constantly talks about "the glory of combat" and refers to Grimm as "filthy alien bastards." Best friends with Mercer Sith Senior — the two can often be heard arguing about who has the bigger gun while drinking on the porch. His weapon is a heavily modified rotary grenade launcher he calls "The Shotgun of Justice"-Despite it being a grenade launcher.
  Role: Commander and heavy weapons user
• Dexter "Grif" Griffin: Sarcastic, lazy, and perpetually complaining. Orange-accented armor. He tries to avoid real work but is surprisingly competent when cornered. Mercer Jr. frequently drags him on convoy runs because "at least you're not completely useless behind the wheel." Secretly a very good cook.
  Role: Heavy vehicle operator and reluctant scout.
• Richard "Simmons" Simmons: Brown-nosing tech specialist and Sarge's loyal right-hand man. Red armor with gold trim. Obsessed with rules, efficiency, and earning Sarge's approval. Works closely with Verdy Arc on vehicle upgrades and is low-key terrified of Coral.
  Role: Logistics, communications, and cyber defense.
• Franklin Delano "Donut" Donut: Cheerful, pink-armored demolitions expert with a surprisingly sweet (and flamboyant) personality. Loves baking cupcakes for the squad and painting everything pink when Sarge isn't looking. Surprisingly deadly with explosives and close-quarters combat.
  Role: Demolitions and morale officer (whether the squad wants it or not).
• Lopez "The Heavy": A human cyborg rebuilt after a serious accident by Isabel. Speaks primarily in heavily accented Hispanian due to a vocoder replacement for his vocal chords (with subtitles on his HUD for the squad). Extremely competent, sarcastic, and tired of everyone's nonsense.
  Role: Heavy weapons platform and mechanic.

---

The Blues – "Strategy, Stealth, and Shenanigans"
Motto: "We're not incompetent… we're just misunderstood."

Role: Recon, infiltration, sabotage, and tactical support.

• Leonard "Church" Vale: Cynical, sarcastic squad leader with a dry wit and terrible luck. Blue armor. Surprisingly brilliant tactician when he stops complaining. Frequently argues with Sarge over the radio during joint operations. Has an ongoing "will they won't they" rivalry/relationship with Tex.
  Role: Overall field commander and sniper.
• Lavernius "Tucker" Tucker: Smooth-talking ladies' man in teal-accented armor. Famous (and infamous) for his catchphrase "Bow-chicka-wow-wow" after every successful mission… and many failed ones. Surprisingly good at stealth and knife work. Has flirted with half the female members of the militia. Won't flirt with the Arc daughters-Not until they're all legal, anyway.
  Role: Scout and close-quarters specialist.
• Michael J. "Caboose" Caboose: Enormous, lovable, and incredibly strong — but not the brightest. Bright blue armor. Accidentally killed more friendly training dummies than actual Grimm. Worships Church as a god-like figure and is terrified of "the mean lady with the pink armor" (Donut). Has adopted several Choux Birds as pets.
  Role: Heavy hitter and living shield (he just stands in front of bullets and Grimm).
• Allison "Tex" Tex: Badass lone-wolf operative in black-and-blue armor, fiery redhead. Extremely skilled, ruthless, and terrifying in combat. Works with the Blues but often operates independently. Has a complicated history with Church. Nick and Mercer Sr. respect her deeply, and she in turn respects them greatly.
  Role: Special operations and assassination.
• Frank "Doc" DuFresne: The squad's pacifist medic in purple-accented armor. Genuinely wants to help people and hates violence… until he occasionally snaps into "O'Malley" mode (a combat persona triggered by extreme stress). Works closely with Isabel at the hospital.
  Role: Combat medic and psychological support.

 

[Sliverhero]

Man with a mission

The glass shattered with a musical chime as Roman Torchwick kicked the door open, his cane resting lightly on his shoulder. "In a world of nothing but chaos and dust, this shop is a little slice of order," he mused, watching his henchmen shovel Dust crystals into bags. "Shame it has to go."

Then the door opened again. Roman sighed, adjusting his hat as a girl in a red hood stepped in, wielding a massive scythe that looked heavier than she was. "Alright, listen here, you little..."

He didn't get to finish. The girl moved like a blur of rose petals, dismantling his goons with practiced ease. Roman watched, eyebrows rising, as his hired help was decimated in seconds. He stepped back, reaching into his coat. "Change of plans," Roman muttered into his scroll. "I'm calling in him now..!"

He turned and bolted out the back door just as the girl turned her attention to him. He sprinted down the alleyway, the sound of the girl's pursuit close behind, when the shadows ahead of him seemed to ripple and darken. A massive Bullhead hovered above the rooftops, lowering a ramp. Standing at the edge of the alley was a figure cloaked in tattered, dark grey cloth. Heavy iron armor covered the frame, and a greatsword with a peculiar, bluish blade was sheathed on the figure's back.

Roman skidded to a halt behind the knight. "About time! She's all yours, 'Dark Knight.' Try not to kill her, just buy me some time!" The knight, a towering entity reminiscent of the legendary Abysswalker and the legends of old, merely nodded beneath his winged helmet. He turned to face Ruby Rose as she burst into the alley. "You!" Ruby shouted, leveling Crescent Rose at the newcomer. "I don't know who you are, but you're not getting away with that Dust!"

The knight didn't speak. He simply drew his greatsword in a single, fluid motion, the blade humming with energy. He charged, closing the distance instantly. Their clash sparked, scythe met greatsword in a shower of sparks. The knight was immensely strong, forcing Ruby back with sheer brute force.

They danced through the alley, trading blows. Ruby relied on speed, dodging the heavy swings that cracked the pavement where she stood. She tried to fire a shot at point-blank range to push him back, but the knight predicted her movement. He grabbed the barrel of Crescent Rose with his left hand and swung his elbow out to deflect her.

In the chaotic grapple, his gauntleted hand slipped from the scythe and collided firmly with Ruby's chest, catching her off balance. The metal was cold, but the grip was firm and undeniably powerful. Ruby yelped, her face flushing bright red as she shoved him back using a recoil blast. Did he just...? She shook her head, focusing on the fight, but a strange, lingering warmth remained in her chest. It wasn't just the impact; it was the solidity of it, the undeniable presence of the man behind the armor. She felt a confusing flutter in her stomach that she quickly shoved down. "Focus Ruby Focus, we can think on it Later." She muttered to herself.

The knight seized the opening, launching a flurry of strikes that drove her up the fire escape toward the rooftop. They burst onto the roof under the moonlight, Roman already boarding the Bullhead nearby. "End of the line, Red," the knight seemed to say with his posture alone.

Suddenly, a riding crop cracked through the air, trailing purple energy. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave," Glynda Goodwitch declared, stepping off a hovercraft, her eyes glowing with magic.
The knight didn't hesitate. He spun around, his free hand shooting out to grab Ruby by her ankle. Before she could react, he swung her in a wide arc, hurling the screaming Huntress directly at Glynda.

"You insolent...!" Glynda cried out, barely managing to catch Ruby without hurting her, the momentum forcing her backward and breaking her concentration. As Glynda recovered, gathering her aura for a massive sweeping attack to ground the Bullhead, the knight raised his greatsword. The blade glowed with a blinding light as he swung it horizontally.

"An Aura Slash!" Glynda shouted in alarm.
A wave of energy cut through the air, slamming into Glynda's attack and shattering it. The force of the blast pushed the Huntress back, creating the perfect window. The knight leaped into the air, grabbing onto the Bullhead's landing skid just as the engines roared to life.


Inside the Bullhead, the silence was heavy. Cinder Fall sat elegantly, her amber eyes studying the hulking knight as he removed his gauntlets. Roman lit a cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke. "So," Cinder purred, leaning forward. "A mute mercenary? Roman, where ever did you find someone with such... exquisite combat capabilities?" "Trade secret," Roman replied, leaning back. "He's temporary muscle. Owes me a favor. And he doesn't talk. Not a word."

Cinder's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the knight for any sign of emotion. He sat like a statue, ignoring her gaze. "Very well. But I will be keeping an eye on you." The Bullhead dropped them off at a discreet warehouse on the outskirts of Vale. Roman checked the perimeter, ensuring they weren't tailed. Once inside the secured facility, the heavy steel doors clanged shut.

The knight relaxed his posture, the menacing aura evaporating instantly. From the shadows of the living area, a figure in brown and pink stepped out. Neo Politan. But she wasn't holding her usual umbrella. In her arms, cradled gently, was a three month-old baby boy, fast asleep.

The knight reached up and unlatched his helmet. With a hiss of pressurized air, he pulled it off, shaking out a mop of blonde hair. Jaune Arc smiled tiredly at his girlfriend. "Hey, Neo."

Neo's eyes melted from brown and pink to a soft, happy blue. She shifted the baby slightly so Jaune could lean in and kiss her, a tender moment that seemed completely at odds with the attempted robbery earlier. Roman shook his head, leaning against a crate. "You two are ridiculous." Jauna broke the kiss, scratching the back of his neck. "Did we lose them?"

"Yeah, lost 'em. So," Roman gestured to the baby. "You still planning on going through with that school thing? Beacon?" Jaune looked down at his son, brushing a thumb over the baby's cheek. "Yeah. I have to." "Seems pointless," Roman noted. "You just fought Glynda Goodwitch to a standstill and fought off the that skilled kid without breaking a sweat. You don't need Beacon."

"It's not about the training anymore, Roman," Jaune said softly. "I need the license. Being a certified Huntsman from the best academy in the kingdom? It opens doors. It means legal protection, better contracts, legitimate money. I have to provide for him. For Neo."

Roman looked at the young couple. It was hard to believe it had only been a year. He remembered fondly when Jaune was just a snot-nosed kid wandering into the wrong bar, looking for fake transcripts, completely clueless to the point he wants to go to a huntsman academy that he didn't even have an Aura to unlock. He had been so far over his head it was tragic.

Now, the kid radiated power. He didn't need Beacon to survive, but Roman respected the hustle. If he wanted to go play student to secure a future for his kid, Roman wasn't going to stop him. Besides, Roman thought with a smirk, At least once he's gone, I don't have to listen to them going at it all night. He still found it hilarious. A guy who started with zero Aura had somehow developed enough stamina to overpower a woman with Neo's specific... talents... in the bedroom. It was a mystery of the universe, he felt a proud and a little jealous of that feat.

Roman tuned back into their conversation as he walked toward the mini-fridge. Neo was making hand signs, a small illusion hovering over her palm. Will she be in Vale soon?* the illusion of a snowflake asked silently.

Jaune sat on the couch, unstrapping his greaves. "Probably. I heard she might be getting a singing job somewhere in vale. If she is, we visit." Meanwhile, in the Schnee manor in Atlas. "Achoo!" Weiss Schnee rubbed her nose, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. She was packing her bags for Beacon, her trunk already half-filled with uniforms and Dust vials.

"Someone must be talking about me," she muttered. She turned back to her walk-in closet, reaching for a specific hidden drawer at the back. She opened it and looked down at the contents: a pair of fake reading glasses, a black dress that was far shorter than anything her father would approve of, and a leather collar with a small silver tag.

She felt a heat rise to her cheeks as she remembered the weekend she spent in Vale, the alias, the disguise, the absolute surrender of control to a mysterious blonde man and his silent, multicolored partner. It had been... liberating. To not be the Heiress, but just a 'pet.'

Weiss bit her lip, picking up the collar. She should leave it. She was going to Beacon to become a Huntress, to restore the family honor. But... just in case. She tucked the items into the very bottom of her trunk, buried under layers of winter clothes. She closed the lid firmly. She had heard the Master mention that bar where he worked security sometimes. Maybe, just maybe, she'd find an excuse to visit that bar during her time at Beacon.

"Ready, Weiss?" her father's voice boomed from the hallway. "Ready!" she called back, taking a deep breath and composing her face into the mask of the perfect Schnee heiress.


The next morning, the wind whipped through Jaune's hair as he stood on the Bullhead heading to Beacon. He wore his standard hoodie and jeans, his family sword upgraded with heavier plating and a sharper edge sheathed on his back, and a newly reinforced shield on his hip and both able to combine into a greatsword.

He watched the landscape of Vale pass by below. He was a criminal, a father, and now, a student. He had a lot of plates to spin, but as he patted the locket around his neck containing a picture of Neo and the baby, he knew he could handle it. Time to show beacon he is a man on a mission.

 

[AJ_Talon]

Phillip Graves / Phillip Arc Profile

• Name: Phillip Graves (legal name Phillip Arc)
• Allusion: Phillip Graves from Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II/III — the charismatic, ruthless, and highly competent PMC commander who blends Southern charm with cold pragmatism.
• Naming Process: Phillip is a Greek name meaning "lover of horses," traditionally associated with leadership and military command. Graves evokes both the solemnity of death and the graves of past conflicts. He uses "Graves" professionally to distance his PMC work from the Arc family name, though he proudly acknowledges his Arc heritage when among family.
• Age: Early-to-mid 30s
• Background: Phillip is the son of an estranged branch of the Arc family. His father abandoned him and his mother, Rosaline, when he was young. At age nine, Rosaline was killed in the same mountain Grimm attack that claimed Jonathan and Elizabeth Arc. From that day forward, Isabel treated him as one of her own little brothers. Nana Arturia and Papa Shirou helped raise him alongside Isabel's siblings. He enlisted in the Valean Defense Force at 15, rising rapidly through the ranks until he joined the elite Partisans special forces unit. During a mission ordered by Supreme Commander General Sir Aldric Varnholt, his team was captured by White Fang terrorists. Defying orders, Graves single-handedly rescued them, earning a severe reprimand. Later, during the Fall of Mount Glenn, he personally detonated the explosives that sealed the main tunnel. Disillusioned with Vale's leadership and bureaucracy, he left the military and founded Shadow Company, a powerful private military company specializing in troop, air, and maritime deployment. Shadow Company employs many former special operations personnel from across Remnant. Graves remains close to his cousins, particularly respecting Isabel for helping him enter the military. He has a strong working relationship with Tangy Arc (helping her establish Salamander) and is on good terms with Jaune, often giving him blunt but valuable advice.
• Race: Human
• Emblem: A stylized card spade with a chess rook held inside.
• Weapon: "Reaper's Due" — A custom bullpup assault rifle with multiple Dust configurations. He also carries a sidearm and combat knife. In close quarters he favors brutal efficiency over flashy technique.
• Semblance: "Bullet Time" — Graves can drastically speed up his perception of time, allowing him to see the battlefield in slow motion and make split-second tactical decisions. This makes him an terrifyingly accurate shot and an elite battlefield commander. It does require a lot of adrenaline to trigger it.
• Appearance: Tall, athletic, and broad-shouldered with short-cropped dirty blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and a perpetual five-o'clock shadow. He has a thin scar over his left cheekbone. He carries himself with the confident swagger of a man who has seen (and survived) the worst Remnant has to offer.
• Outfit: Tactical operator gear — dark tactical vest over a compression shirt, combat pants, heavy boots, and black gloves. He often wears a Shadow Company patch on his shoulder and a dark ball cap. When visiting family he dresses more casually but still looks ready for war at a moment's notice.
• Personality: Charismatic, pragmatic, and ruthlessly efficient. He has a rural-tinged drawl from his time in the military and a dry sense of humor that can shift from charming to ice-cold in an instant. He genuinely wants to protect the innocent but believes the ends often justify extreme means. He respects Isabel and the rest of the Arc family deeply, though their relationship can become strained when Isabel criticizes the moral gray areas of Shadow Company's operations. He is protective of his cousins and sees Jaune as someone with great potential who needs a dose of harsh reality to survive.
• Notes: Supreme Commander of Shadow Company, a highly professional and well-equipped PMC with over 10,000 personnel, advanced air assets (including the rare AC-150 gunships), and multiple hidden bases. Shadow Company was instrumental in supporting Vale's defense reforms during the lead-up to the Vytal Festival and has worked closely with Tangy Arc's Salamander. While Graves is willing to do dirty work that regular militaries or Hunters won't touch, he still draws a line at harming innocents and has personally rescued several Arc family members in the past (including helping save Irene from the Velvet Glove). He maintains a complicated but ultimately loyal relationship with the wider Arc family — they are one of the few groups he truly trusts. He hates the White Fang but is willing to give ex-members like Blake a chance-Mainly thanks to Jaune's intervention.

 

[AJ_Talon]

Fun Parent/Teacher Conference moment: Taiyang stays at Beacon over night and he with Glynda... Yes...

And in the morning...

Yang: "Hey Dad! Time to get a wake up call-"

Ruby: "Dad, wake up-"

Glynda and Taiyang peek up from the bed they're sharing, looking a bit sheepish... But undeniably smug.

Yang and Ruby: "... DADDY NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Jaune: "What's all the screaming about...? Oh... Ew."

Ruby: "THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?!"

Yang: "SERIOUSLY?!"

Jaune: Haunted, dead eyed look "... You get used to it."

Weiss: "What is all the-?! PROFESSOR?! HOW COULD YOU?!"

Glynda: *sighs* "Anyone else going to barge on in or should I just put you all in detention?"

Nora: "Hey guys, are we having a screaming contest? Cause I'm the best!" *stare* "Oh! Mister Xiao-Long and Professor Goodwitch had sex! Neato! Good on you two!" *thumbs up*

Taiyang: *grins, thumbs up back*

 

[AJ_Talon]

Jaune paced back and forth in the JNPR dorm like a man awaiting execution.

He had to make a decision. He really had to.

"It's not fair of me to anyone," he muttered, "It's not fair to Mia... So I just need to go and... And do it, right?"

He looked at himself in the mirror and nodded.

"I've decided," Jaune announced, stopping abruptly. "I'm just going to ask the first girl I run into. Nice and fair, right? No overthinking. No drama. Just… rip the bandage off."

Jaune took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and marched out the door muttering to himself like a motivational mantra.

"Gonna ask a girl out. Gonna ask a girl out. Be mature. Be smooth. You've got this, Arc. First girl you see. Easy. You had a wife. You can ask out a girl."

He pushed open the library doors, still whispering under his breath.

"First girl. It will be fair, nobody will complain if it's at random, right? Just walk up and say it. Nice and casual. You can do this."

He rounded the corner with his eyes squeezed shut for courage. He could feel a strong female Aura, familiar, right in front of him. He took a deep breath.

"Would you like to go with me to the dance?"

Silence.

Jaune opened his eyes.

Professor Glynda Goodwitch stood directly in front of him, holding a stack of books, staring at him in complete shock.

Her green eyes widened behind her glasses.

Jaune's soul left his body.

"Uhhh…"

Glynda cleared her throat, cheeks faintly pink. "I'm… deeply flattered, Mister Arc. But I'm far too old for you, and it would be highly inappropriate."

Jaune's face turned scarlet. "I— uh, no, I mean—!"

From a nearby table, the entire group — RWBY, Pyrrha, Nora, Ren, and Mia — stared at him in stunned silence.

Jaune nodded quickly, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left. "N-No, of course. I understand. Sorry. Nerves."

Glynda adjusted her glasses, regaining her usual composure. "Yes, I imagine so. Have a nice day, Mister Arc."

"Of course, Professor. Thank you."

Jaune turned on his heel and walked stiffly over to the table like a man marching to his own funeral. He sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands.

Weiss blinked. "What… was that all about?"

Blake smirked knowingly from behind her book. She had heard the entire thing.

Mia, sitting in Ruby's lap, reached over and gently patted Jaune's head.

"Papa's silly!"

Jaune let out a long, muffled groan into his palms.

Nora cackled. "Ten out of ten execution. Zero out of ten landing."

Pyrrha tried (and failed) to hide her sympathetic giggle behind her hand.

Ruby leaned over and whispered, "So… are we pretending that didn't just happen?"

Jaune's muffled voice came from between his fingers. "Yes. Please."

Yang grinned, resting her chin on her hand. "Too late, Vomit Boy. This one's going in the group chat."

Jaune whimpered.

Mia just kept patting his head like he was a sad puppy. "It's okay, Papa. You'll get it next time!"

 

[LordofBones]

Crack idea: Jaune's secretly a novelist and RWBY + Pyrrha are fans of his work. The problem is that they identify too much with the characters he creates, all of which have...unfortunate fates.

Pyrrha: *numb, the book having fallen from her hands* "Alex...alexandria dies? She's...she's killed, just like that? What about her - her destiny? And her boon companions? She just...leaves them grieving for the rest of the series?"
Ruby: *staring at a wall, lips quivering* "Garnet...snaps? But...but she doesn't even have time to process anything and all she knows is that her mother was a hero...she never wanted any of this and now everyone's dead and her sister doesn't take responsibility for her own problems and blames her and - and - and -"

Meanwhile, Jaune's writing the ending...

Jaune: "Hmmm...and there, on Alexandria's grave, John laid his head to rest. It would be hours later, long after the celebration had ended, that Hua and Thor would find him. 'He's smiling,' whispered Hua through her tears, and they both knew that he'd finally found his peace. The End."

 

[AJ_Talon]

The jail cell was cold, poorly lit, and stank. Blake looked around her surroundings, then at the rest of her team.

"So... I... May have made a mistake," she admitted, "Possibly."

"That's the closest thing to an apology you can make, huh?" Yang quipped, as she held a trembling Ruby.

"I can't believe it... Arrested!" Ruby cried. "Arrested for trying to stop terrorists! I have a Hunter-In-Training license!"

"This is going to go on my permanent record," Weiss moaned, "I'll never become a Huntress, I'll never become CEO, I'll be disowned, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" She glared at Blake. Blake held up her hands.

"I... You didn't have to come after me!"

"You didn't HAVE to freak out over us finding out you were a terrorist!"

"FORMER TERRORIST!"

"Of an organization that KILLED MEMBERS OF MY FAMILY!" Weiss screeched. "I THINK I'M HANDLING THE SITUATION VERY WELL ALL THINGS CONSIDERED!"

"Well... WELL YOU'RE JUST RACIST!"

"YOUR ORGANIZATION WAS TRYING TO KILL ME! HOW IS RACE A FACTOR?!" Weiss demanded.

"BECAUSE THE SDC ENSLAVES FAUNUS!"

"I DIDN'T DO ANY OF THAT!"

"YOU PROFITED OFF IT!"

"SHUT UP!" Shouted an inmate from the other cell, a burly Faunus man with bear ears, a beard and a scowl, "Makin' too much noise, you underaged prostitutes!"

"We're not prostitutes!" Weiss cried.

"Yeah!" Ruby shrieked. "But I am underaged and oh no what if they think we're hookers we're DOOMED!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO JAIL FOR A PROSTITUTION CHARGE!" Weiss snarled at Blake. Blake shrugged.

"That's hardly the worst thing to be charged for."

"I already have a record, we'll be fine!" Yang insisted.

"YOU'RE ALREADY A HARDENED CRIMINAL!" Weiss yelped. She grabbed Ruby and yanked her away. "Don't listen to her Ruby! We'll get through this! We'll be fine! We won't go to prison! I'm rich! I'll buy our way out!"

"You will?!" Ruby gasped. "Only if you get Yang out too!"

"I'll try but she'll be tougher!"

"Oh no, I'm already too used to being behind bars," Yang joked, "I can't go outside again!"

"NOT FUNNY!" Weiss growled.

"What about me?" Blake demanded.

"YOU GOT US IN THIS MESS! YOU CAN ROT!"

"WHORE!"

"SKANK!"

A female officer came in, and cleared her throat. Weiss pulled back away from the bars, but Ruby moved forward eagerly.

"What's up?! What's happening?!"

"Your bail has been paid and your case was dismissed on grounds of you being Huntresses in training," she said, "The school will pay the fine and your friends are here to pick you up."

"Friends? Who?" Ruby asked eagerly.

Jaune walked out, and waved awkwardly.

"Uh, hey guys," he said.

"JAUNE?!" Everyone chorused.

Weiss scowled.

"This isn't an attempt to get me out on a date again, is it?"

"What? No!" Jaune said quickly, shaking his head. "Of course not!"

"Is it to get a date with me?" Yang asked with a grin,"Because you just won one!"

"Shameless strumpet," Weiss huffed.

"I'm being nice, damnit!"

The cell door opened and RWBY came out. They headed out to the clerk's desk, where Pyrrha, Nora and Ren were waiting. Nora beamed and hugged Ruby.

"Rubes! You're okay! Did you get a prison tattoo?"

"No!"

"Shucks! Guess we'll wait until next time!"

Weiss zeroed in on Pyrrha. She hugged her.

"Oh thank you Pyrrha! You provided the money to bail us out! I'm eternally grateful!" She gushed. Pyrrha coughed and smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, uh, no," she said, "Sorry, that was Jaune."

"Huh?" Yang, Ruby and Blake looked at Jaune in disbelief. Weiss raised an eyebrow.

"How much was it?" She demanded.

"Ohhh... That's not important," Jaune laughed nervously.

"150,000 Lien each," Ren blandly said. Weiss goggled. Blake's eyes widened. Yang's jaw dropped as Ruby gasped.

"That much?! Jaune, I-I-!"

"Now listen," Yang said quickly, "If you need us to repay you, I-I can do it! Don't make Ruby do anything! I'll handle it all!" She moved closer to Jaune. "I can do anything you need to repay you! Anything!"

"DON'T DEBASE YOURSELF!" Weiss screeched. "I'll handle this! I can cover it! You want a date, right? We can have dates! ... And money! I can give you money!"

"I... It's such a massive sacrifice to make, Jaune," Blake said, touched. "I don't know how I can repay you but... But I will! However I can!"

"Yeah!" Ruby cried, "I'll repay you forever! We're best friends forever!"

"Uhhh... It's not important," Jaune said quickly. "Not important at all! Let's go get ice cream, huh?"

"What?" Yang frowned. "Is your family loaded?"

"Did you have to make a sacrifice to your parents?" Blake asked, "Give up your dreams of becoming a Huntsman for the money?"

Jaune's eyes widened.

"Wait, I didn't-!"

"You would do that for us, Jaune?!" Ruby gasped, hugging him. She began to sob. "Oh Jaune! You-We're not worth that sacrifice-!"

"HE'S SO NOBLE!" Nora sobbed, hugging him tightly from the other side. Blake walked up and took his hands.

"I'm willing to make up for this in any erotic way you need me to, Jaune!"

"I made the offer first!" Yang growled.

Pyrrha twitched, but hid her smile.

Jaune shook his head rapidly, and held up his hands.

"No! Nonnono! Nothing like that! It's uh... It's just not important, eheh!"

"Why would it not be important?" Weiss demanded.

A police officer came up to Jaune and handed him a check with a smile.

"And here's your change, Mister Arc! This is quite the haul for a young bounty hunter like you!"

Silence fell. The clerk looked around, blinked, then shrugged.

"But uh... Maybe you shouldn't date the woman you brought in? I... Seems kind of dangerous-"

"He lives dangerously!" Nora insisted. The clerk blinked, then shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

The clerk walked off. All four members of RWBY stared intensely at Jaune. He coughed.

"Ahhhh..."

"Bounty hunter?" Yang prompted, her eyes red. Jaune held up his hands.

"Okay, short version; I took a four hour course to become a licensed bounty hunter because I thought it would help me with becoming a Hunter. I finished the course, got my license, and uh, came to Beacon... And because I called the cops about the situation with White Fang they gave me the money for Blake's bounty."

"My what?!" Blake gasped. Jaune nodded.

"Yup... And uh... I used it to pay your bail... Professor Ozpin did the rest..."

A beat of silence.

"How much was her bounty?" Ruby asked. Weiss snatched up the check and stared at it. She looked at Blake in disbelief.

"150,000 lien per... This much... WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"

"Enough to get us out of jail?" Blake offered.

 

[CountvonBarnOwl]

Crossposted from SB -


I got a 3K word snippet for everybody. It lacks the level of polish that I usually aspire to (in my own estimation) especially near the beginning and the end.


But this is what I get for doing things without a proofreader.


Nevertheless, I find it increasingly important to try to do more on my own.


Anyway, what this is is a general prologue to all of my Cyber-Whitley ideas, which I am trying to dredge up the motivation to start writing again. Success has been very, very, very limited on that front. Nevertheless I like this idea and everything stemming from it in its raw form and want to get back to doing things with it.


But this is sort of a... prologue I wrote to clue people in. I don't like writing beginnings, you see. So I often skip them and go back in order to make myself feel the enthusiasm to write them. We all have parts that we enjoy or don't enjoy. Those bits of our work that we enjoy weaving just that either more or less.


That is not what I mean.


Because when I'm not writing after my own mercurial muse, I often end up feeling like I have to write things that I don't want to write. And that isn't me speaking to the necessary elements of a story that I feel that I must write in any case to make all of the fun bits attach to each other properly and come off as a coherent look into my inner world.


I mean things like, I can't write a story for a Remnant that has a total population above 400,000,000 people. I just don't see that. Nor do I see Grimm that can have their hides pierced by anything weaker than a 9.5mm H&H. And the bone should behave like the armor of early tanks. They've just got to be monsters worthy of sending Aura wielders after. Horrors against which no final victory can come. You don't win against a death world. The beauty of humanity comes forward in striving nevertheless.


I could try to write such things. Or for any Jaune ship that isn't my top two, or for one of my top two building a harem, but the product would be pure trash.


It isn't an issue opinion or preference at that point, it is artistic integrity and competence.


Funny, I say trash and then hack this up and then let it sit on my hard drive for two weeks before posting. Point is this not my best work and I am entirely aware of that. But I had to put something out if only for my own peace of mind. I know that probably makes me sound like a hack, I certainly feel like a hack.


But you all have indulged my prattling long enough.


Without further ado:

---

How it Happened – The Beginning of my Cyber-Whitley AU & all of its offshoots; Part 1


Though operating under appreciable stress, morale among the White Fang strike team only rose with every step. Every obstacle quietly surmounted, every lock quietly picked, every potential witness meticulously dodged or maneuvered around, every camera quickly hacked and replaced with a looping feed.



Silence was worth four hundred Lien a minute and nevertheless, Brother Onyx was barely able to hold himself back from bursting into song. Today, they would kill Jacques Schnee.



And Onyx himself had been charged with firing the opening shot. Brother Maroon and Sister Air were tasked with firing the follow-up and contingency shots. There was an all-hands-on-deck meeting between the SDC's highest officials today. Onyx himself hadn't known where the information had come from, operational security being what it was. He had only known that the officers in the White Fang's Solitas Branch, with confirmation from the High Leader herself, considered the intelligence actionable enough to mobilize a team.



Any minute now, the SDC chief executive's armored limousine would be making its way along this highway. It was not a direct, or likely route between places that the man would frequent, but knowing his own security measures, that, in Onyx's mind, only confirmed the likelihood of his presence.



Their position was set up in less than ten seconds. An eight-man fireteam consisting of three rockets, two perimeter guards, primary and secondary overwatch, and a communications and electronics officer coordinating had all been set up, clear from backblast, three floors below the rooftop, in a building currently undergoing renovations, where windows and walls were almost as uncommon as people, while the construction crew had all gone off to lunch, waiting to give the Animal God's justice to Jacques Schnee.


"Target spotted, ETA twenty seconds." Onyx readied his rocket launcher and took aim at the nearby section of highway that they had determined the range to from their position in the planning phase and calculated the time that he'd have to pre-fire by given the rocket's velocity.



"Ten, nine, eight, seven," the officer sounded off like a metronome. "Five, four," he continued. He had barely begun to say 'three' when Onyx pulled the trigger. Three a half seconds. That was Onyx's best guess. The distance between the point of launch and the target was a little over two seconds away at the rocket's normal velocity. But there was a delay for acceleration, another delay for Onyx's own brain to receive and act on the information, and the distance was as the crow flies, basic trigonometry indicated that the distance of the diagonal he was firing along was longer than that.



Onyx barely saw the long, dark blue limousine come into view behind the smoke trail of his rocket, but he heard the explosion.



The instant the smoke had dispersed, he saw the remains of an overturned limousine on the highway, its front end mangled in the way that a direct blow from a HEAT warhead could mangle a commercial market car, armored as it was.



"Good hit! Air, follow up on the midsection, Maroon, the gas tank." The officer called without missing a beat. The next two rockets slammed into the overturned vehicle, and even as smoke engulfed their position, Onyx saw the fireball that devoured the car.



There was a pause as the officer stood still, staring at his scroll, and another screen strapped to his wrist. "Evac route Cherry everyone. We are leaving."



Onyx was walking on air all through the retreat. There was no need for stealth, they could shoot as many human obstacles as got in their way and they made better time to the exfiltration point than they had coming from it. Within a few hours he'd be flying out of Solitas, watching the news confirm Jacques Schnee's death.



Somewhat earlier, the SDC parking lot -



Whitley Schnee did not let the exhaustion, the frustration, or anything else appear on his face as he made his way to across the fortified parking lot under the SDC headquarters.



Today's board meeting had been unproductive. None of the board members had so much as touched anything that wasn't considered a closed matter as of last week. Nevertheless, he knew he would be expected to make a productive report to the CEO when he got home.



He already knew how it would begin; 'Several members of the board behave inconsistently with previous patterns. Including those on which their employment was predicated.' Inculpatory enough of others that Jacques wouldn't suspect him being remiss in his duties, or failing to uphold his obligations. However, it was not paranoid, not like he was trying to distract the man.



Assuming today's traffic pattern remained consistent, Whitley was confident that he would be able to churn something out on his laptop denoting how the director, and officer positions at or above the regional level now had a higher statistical mortality rate than Level III+ mines and it may not be presently viable to adjust their hazard pay, insurance, and risk packages accordingly.



Whitley was positive he was not the only one making a report to Jacques. The directors and other departmental officers would be reporting to him too. Information was power. Information asymmetry was necessary for leadership to remain unquestioned. That was why Jacques wanted everybody checking up on everybody else. It kept everyone below him nervous, clumsy, and liable to further expose themselves to him. As the head of both the SDC's marketing and accounting departments, and first in line for CFO, Whitley knew that far better than most. It had been no different from growing up in the man's household.



Whitley entered his father's armored limousine and climbed into the citadel, the armored capsule that protected the frontmost three seats of the passenger compartment. Then he took the intercom and told the chauffeur to take him home. There was nearly zero delay. This chauffeur probably wandered around or fucked around on his scroll when the car wasn't moving, as much as the last one.



But this driver knew enough to minimize his own exposure. He, unlike his predecessor, understood how much of a risk he was taking, and that paycheck was only as big as it was because he wasn't expected to stick around and collect it for more than three years. Whitley dismissed the matter from his head, and got to work over his laptop.



Minutes later, from the corner of his eye, he saw a growing flash of orange light. There came a flash, that he did not just see, but he felt through his whole body, and Whitley Schnee knew only fire, and pain.



Agony stretched the sensation out toward eternity. However, naught but mere seconds could have been able to pass before the pain started to dim and blur at the edges. It began to fade, as if gradually falling into a pillow, as it was being held over Whitley's face.



So, Whitley fought. Truly, he fought. He tried to chase the spiderweb of searing sensations that his mind could perceive in an attempt to hold on, to stay lucid, to stay cognizant. For as long as he kept his mind, he kept his life. He thrashed; he flailed with all of the meager might that he thought he had. But the smothering sensation had been joined by a vice, constricting his windpipe, and tightening. And faster it tightened the tighter it got.



Until Whitley could no longer feel the tightening, he could no longer feel the suffocation, the burning, or the haze. He could only feel the fatigue of his strength spent. His brain commanded eyelids that were no longer there to close around sockets whose contents had burst from the heat of the initial explosion. It did not work. But it was good enough. Either way, Whitley saw only black. And he was too tired to care.



Then he felt nothing.



He couldn't tell how much time had passed when sensation returned to him. And what he could feel was difficult to describe. He felt like he was floating on water… no, cream… that was not it either. Milk perhaps? Whole and warm. And 'floating' was wrong too. It was more like, as he would later recount, 'sinking in reverse.' As though he was drifting down, as opposed to up, facing the bottom of whatever body of liquid that he was in and yet, the heavy fluid pooled above, or underneath him, as water rushes a swimmer out of the way in its journey to reach the lowest point possible, pushing him to the surface. That was the best comparison he could make.



This was the sensation that he felt for a brief interval up until the milk-water started to run thin, and when it felt almost as if he would break the surface/floor a bolt of pain seized Whitley up his spine and into the back of his head, the thunderclap of agony pulling him into further darkness.



Yet he remained cognizant. He could picture himself, hunched and curled up, perhaps on his side, though he couldn't feel his limbs, taste, the air or open his eyes. Any minute now, he would find out if he would be woken up by a group of scientists rousing him from a simulation, or if he had gone the way of every animated protagonist that he had ever seen, being personally introduced to the plots of their respective shows by the front bumper of a truck.



He really wasn't looking forward to what would inevitably come next in the latter case. But he did not discount the chance of a new family. Dare he hope that the next family would love him?



"Alright, all systems online. He should be responsive now." Whitley heard a comically Midgardian accent utter from higher up and perhaps to his left.



"Hmm… Simulation it is." Whitley thought to himself.



"I am afraid that it is no simulation, Herr Schnee." Whitley tried, and failed, to reorient himself in the direction where he thought the voice was coming from.



'You would pardon my incredulity.' Whitley thought again, this time to himself.



No response came after the pause. Whitley noted that. Until further testing, thoughts would emanate, for want of a better term, from him and into the aether until further testing could be done.



"Amzel! Did we lose him?!?" Came the raised shout of General James Ironwood. Whitley had never really met the man, but he had spoken to Jacques enough, and made enough public appearances that the Schnee scion could identify his voice.



"Nein, the brainwave monitor here displays that he is thinking to himself." Amzel, replied, again with an accent that sounded like a Valeman's impression of an Atlesian scientist with some particular derangement or another. Speaking with respect to a machine that Whitley could not see. "He is likely simply processing his circumstances."



"Regarding the same," Whitley thought/spoke "Where am I, and why are you able to read some of my thoughts? I understand that I am most likely blind and awaiting some prosthesis. But what I do not understand is how you are able to hear at least some of my thoughts."



"Ah, that is easy, young Whitley. Your injuries on the highway being critical, you were relocated to a life support unit in an aerial ambulance. Of course, you are no longer in a life support unit, as you have most likely deduced. After your resuscitation, your brain was relocated to a cybernetic cranial casing with integrated life support functions." Amzel continued.



'Cybernetic cranial casing?' Whitley wondered with a pit of dread pooling inside of the stomach that he admittedly no longer possessed. "Am I to understand that I am now just a brain in a jar?!" He asked in alarm.



"Wrong on all counts." Amzel replied. "Your C-spine also retained some level of integrity. And the remains of your C-1 through C-3 vertebrae remain attached and contained in a flexible armored appendix beneath the cranial unit. The unit's exact capabilities are military secrets which I am not at liberty to disclose until your enlistment is made official. You are also hooked up to my laptop and conversing with us via its audio input and output."



"Enlistment?" Whitley inquired, duplicating as best he could the raised tone that his father used when receiving information was not just unexpected, but also unpleasant.



"Well…" Amzel drew out. "There was a disagreement regarding exactly who would be paying for your prosthetics. Your sire decided to shirk his legal und natural obligations, and say that covering your exoframe should be society's problem."



"That is a complete misrepresentation of the conversation that took place between your superior and I, Lieutenant General!" Whitley heard his father add. Giving Whitley a better idea as to where the man stood in the command structure.



Whitley wasn't surprised. His father wouldn't spend any money he didn't need to spend. Being raised in the man's household, he saw the logic. Expending one's own effort and resources wasn't a logical thing to do when lesser expenditures could compel, by threat or by force, someone else to expend their own strength to your ends, which had the knock-on effect of preserving one's own stockpiles and treasure trove.



He wasn't surprised to find out how poorly his own well-being rated in the eyes of Jacques Schnee.



There should have been something there, some emotive reaction. He understood also that he should be feeling something besides the mildest of disappointments at being proven right. He knew he had limited value to his father. But for most of his life he had given himself the leeway of being a necessary expense in Jacques' eyes.



Something dark rumbled in Whitley's mind. 'That had been a mistake,' he admitted to himself. He had gotten comfortable, complacent, he had taken for granted the surety of his own footing in proximity to Jacques Schnee.



Fortunately, Whitley Schnee learned from his mistakes.



"Returning to the point, young Whitley," Amzel's address shook him from his ruminations. "Atlas will cover the cost of your prosthesis. But you will reimburse us."



"I take it through years of service rather than a financial arrangement," Whitley replied. Something, not quite tone, betraying what could have been lukewarm disappointment or impassive nonchalance.



"It isn't a state of affairs that I am exactly pleased with either, son." Jacques was trying to somehow paint himself as the aggrieved party in this matter, and further ingratiate himself with the person who suffered the actual injury in the same stroke… again. Whitley had watched the same thing play out a hundred-hundred times in the upper strata of Atlesian business and politics. But he had hardly ever seen it from this side of the equation.



"They were the ones who let you die, and yet they feel entitled to your service." Jacques continued.



'Wait… Die..!' Whitley thought with some trepidation. That particular truth paralyzing him where he was. The human mind is not made to truly contemplate or comprehend the cession of its own existence. 'When did I die? What part of what I felt was death? The fire or the floating?'



"Schnee!" Ironwood barked back at Jacques. "That is a complete mischaracterization of the situation…"



As Ironwood continued to berate his father, Whitley recalled Amzel's mention of resuscitation. "I suppose I really did die there for a while."



"You were clinically dead for exactly sixteen-point-eight-three-two seconds." Amzel clarified through his thick accent.



"Not brain-dead then," Whitley clarified. "Should I be aware of any cellular damage resulting from oxygen starvation?"



"Nein." Amzel clarified. "And once your father and his bodyguard give us the room, I will be able to discuss details of your situation in depth."



They did, sooner or later, as Whitley heard his genitor's torrent of accusations, admonishments, and deflections, as well as the head general's half-shouted own accusations and denials recede from the room before the door closed.



"Now that we are alone, I may explain to you what your duties will entail." Amzel explained. "You will serve as a test pilot for the latest generation of military cybernetic augmentations. To this end, you will be assigned the rank of Warrant Officer and placed under my command. It is exceedingly likely that I will assign you other tasks and command that you assist in other SCTC programs and cooperate with other SCTC personnel. You will, furthermore, be assigned to active combat operations at my discretion. If we need actual combat data, you will be the one out obtaining it. I will not be saying anything more until I have your verbal assent to this."



Whitley did not hesitate, "You have my assent, general." Even if the decision had not already been made when he was unresponsive, Whitley understood the shape of his options and prospects as a brain in a jar quite clearly.



"Good. Your father already signed your enlistment paperwork as your legal guardian. Consider yourself enlisted and under my command. I will soon be disconnecting you from the laptop, after which we will relocate to the Jotun complex where you will be given your posting and assignment. Tell me what, if anything, you experience in the interim."



Amzel did not even give Whitley the chance to respond before he felt something snap or cut. And then, Whitley felt alone, isolated, and that floating feeling, in a half-hunch or fetal position.



Rationally, he understood it was just his brain trying to process its new state of affairs while operating under complete sensory deprivation. But the analogues and allegories, for want of a better turn of phrase, gave the world around him shape and form.



He could feel his limbs, his body, drifting in the fetal position, under an endless black sea. Bother. He would probably be stuck like this without being plugged into any prosthetic. And for what was nothing near the first time in his life, Whitley Schnee found himself weighing whether he should try sleep, or remaining with his thoughts.



To be continued.

---

I hope you all enjoyed that, and I would appreciate any feedback that any of you have. And again, be as specific as possible.

 

[AJ_Talon]

The weapons workshop was quieter than usual in the late afternoon. Jaune had stopped by to work on Crocea Mors, carefully oiling the blade and checking the mechanisms on the shield. He was so focused that he didn't notice anyone else until a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Jaune?"

He turned to see Velvet Scarlatina standing near the doorway, Mia perched happily on her hip. The little girl was swinging her legs and playing with one of Velvet's long ears.

"Velvet? Hey," Jaune said, surprised. "What are you doing here? And with Mia?"

Velvet gave him a small, slightly embarrassed smile. "Ruby called and said she was going to be late picking her up. I volunteered to grab her from daycare."

Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Ruby's late? That's not like her."

Velvet's ears twitched. "She and Coco have been spending a lot of time together lately. They've gotten… closer. Ruby really likes her-Especially given her Semblance can cause bigger explosions."

Jaune blinked, then smiled. "Huh. Good for them."

Though he'd probably need to watch out during the next training session.

Velvet nodded, then glanced down at Mia. "I thought I'd bring her here while I finished up a few things. Hope that's alright."

"Yeah, of course," Jaune said. He wiped his hands on a rag and stood up. "Mind if we head outside? I could use some fresh air."

They found a quiet spot in one of the smaller courtyards. Jaune sat on a stone bench and laid Crocea Mors across his lap, resuming his careful maintenance. Velvet sat beside him with Mia between them.

"You're taking good care of it," Velvet observed, watching him work.

Jaune nodded. "My great-grandfather reforged it before I left. I try to keep it in good shape."

Velvet smiled softly. "That's good. Weapons like that deserve to be looked after."

Mia, who had been quietly observing the conversation, suddenly perked up and looked at Velvet with wide eyes.

"Are you a Faunus too?" she asked. "Did you come from Menagerie like Auntie Blake?"

Velvet's ears twitched. For just a second, something sharp and angry flashed in her eyes — an old, familiar pain. But she quickly pushed it down and smiled warmly at Mia.

"No, I'm not from Menagerie," she said gently. "I was born here in Vale. My father is human… and my mother is a rabbit Faunus who came from Menagerie."

Mia tilted her head. "Really?"

Velvet nodded. Her voice grew quieter, and a faint Menagerian accent slipped through without her realizing. "They faced a lot of trouble for being together. Some people in the White Fang even tried to hurt them because my mother 'betrayed' her own kind by marrying a human."

Mia's eyes went wide. "That's mean!"

Velvet's expression softened. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from Mia's face. "I'm sorry for telling you something so heavy, Mia. I shouldn't have-"

But Mia suddenly lit up with pure excitement.

"You're like me!" she said happily. "You're a grown-up rabbit me! And you're super nice!"

Velvet blinked, clearly caught off guard. A small, genuine smile broke across her face.

"…Thank you, Mia."

She looked over at Jaune, ears slightly lowered. "I'm sorry for venting like that. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Jaune said quietly. He glanced at Mia, then nodded toward the open courtyard. "Hey, kitten. Why don't you go play for a bit? I'll be right here."

Mia nodded and hopped off the bench, running off with her toy sword to swing it at imaginary Grimm.

Velvet and Jaune watched her go in comfortable silence for a moment.

"She's an amazing little girl," Velvet said softly. "You've done an incredible job raising her."

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck. "My family did a lot of the heavy lifting, honestly. Especially when Katy…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "They were really supportive."

Velvet hesitated, then asked carefully, "Were they… okay with you marrying a Faunus?"

Jaune looked at her and grinned. "Katy was my childhood friend. Our families had been close for centuries. Nobody ever had a problem with it."

Velvet let out a small, wistful sigh. "That sounds like a wonderful place… and a wonderful family." Her ears drooped slightly. "My mother's family disowned her for marrying a human. My father's family has been welcoming, but things are often tense because he's from Atlas and... Well..."

Jaune was quiet for a second, then said, "If you ever want to visit Radian… I'm more than happy to take you there."

Velvet's cheeks flushed pink. She looked down at her hands. "I… I would like that."

Before either of them could say anything else, Mia came sprinting back over, out of breath and grinning.

She stopped right in front of Velvet, looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes, and blurted out:

"Would you like to give me a sibling with Papa?"

Velvet's entire face went bright red. She opened and closed her mouth several times, completely speechless.

Jaune let out a long, exhausted sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Kitten," he said tiredly, "no. I told you not to ask girls that anymore."

Mia pouted. "But she might want to!"

Jaune gave her a stern look. "No."

Mia crossed her arms and huffed, but didn't argue further. She simply turned and ran back off to play with her toy sword.

Velvet was still bright red, one hand covering her mouth as she tried (and failed) to regain her composure.

Jaune glanced at her and offered a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. She's been… very determined lately."

Velvet let out a shaky laugh, still flustered. "It's… it's alright. She's very direct."

Jaune chuckled softly. "Yeah. That's one word for it."

 

[Sliverhero]

Man with a mission part 2

Roman Torchwick leaned back against the crate, watching Jaune adjust the strap of his shield. A year ago, he would have laughed this kid out of the alley. Now? It was strange. Roman wasn't exactly the sentimental type, he didn't do warm fuzzies, but looking at the blonde idiot adjusting his weapon with the precision of a veteran, Roman felt a pang of something dangerously close to pride. He'd never say it, of course. He had a reputation to maintain. But in his head, he admitted it: he was proud to have this goofball as a son-in-law.

It was ridiculous how it started. A simple stop for ice cream. Roman had just wanted a mint chip cone to tide him over, and Neo had wandered off. She came back dragging this lanky, blonde mess by the hoodie who was asking about fake transcripts. Roman had his cane out, ready to scare the local brat, but Neo just tilted her head and gave him that look. He's cute, She'd taken a liking to him instantly.

But the real shocker came that first night. Roman still remembered walking into the safe house apartment, expecting to find Neo bored and the kid tied to a chair or something. Instead, he found them in bed, asleep. The kid was shirtless, and Roman's criminal instinct immediately cataloged the damage. There were deep, angry scratches running down Jaune's back, trails of blood that were still wet.

Roman had frowned, nudging the bedframe. "Hey, kid." Jaune had jolted awake, blinking blearily. The movement pulled at the wounds, making him hiss. That was when Roman realized the cuts weren't healing. At all.

"Where's your Aura?" Roman had asked, incredulous. "My... what?" Jaune had mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Roman stared at him. "Your Aura. Your shield. Your life force. You know, the thing that keeps you from bleeding out when a pint-sized sadist uses you as a scratching post?"

Jaune had just looked confused. "I... don't think I have one of those?" Roman was floored. This kid, this Aura-less, civilian nobody, had not only survived a night with Neo, who had the stamina of a Huntress and the appetite of a predator, but he had apparently held his own long enough to... well, Roman didn't want the details, but the evidence was on the sheets. The fact that Jaune had outlasted her without the supernatural endurance of an unlocked Aura was a medical marvel. It was a testament to pure, unadulterated grit (or teenage hormones).

Roman sighed and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hold still. This is going to tickle." He'd unlocked Jaune's Aura then and there. It be like any other thing he had to do it for junior goons. Damn, that flash of white light biggest he ever seen from an unlocking had sealed the wounds instantly, but Roman never forgot the sight of the kid soldiering on through pain that would have dropped a trained man.

It was that resilience that made the Museum heist go so smoothly. The plan was simple: Roman needed inside the Vale Natural History Museum to swipe a relic for a client, a pale, but beautiful terrifying woman who went by the witch . She wanted the "Blanket of the First King," an ancient weave supposedly made from impossible Grimm-fur. The blueprints Roman bought were good, but they were missing the updated security protocols.

That was where Jaune came in, to help pay his debt. "Head of security," Roman mused, remembering the badge Jaune had flashed. "Who knew 'honest work' paid so well in intel?"

Jaune had taken a job as a night watchman. For three weeks, he walked the floors, memorized the camera blind spots, and most importantly, noticed the things the blueprints didn't show. He found the pressure sensors under the floorboards in the East Wing and the secondary silent alarm wired to the display case's temperature gauge.

On the night of the heist, Roman and Neo dropped in through the skylight. They landed silently, expecting to dodge laser grids. Instead, they found a clear path. Jaune met them in the hall, still in his uniform.

"The sensors in the hallway are on a loop," Jaune had whispered, handing Roman a keycard. "But watch the third step. It's got a new pressure trigger I couldn't bypass without tripping the main server." "You're a genius, kid," Roman had grinned.

They walked out with the Blanket, tripping zero alarms. Because the internal security was compromised so flawlessly, the police didn't even know a robbery had occurred until they opened the case the next morning. It was listed as a "mysterious disappearance." The client, Witch, was so impressed with the ghost-like execution that she paid a huge bonus.

Jaune used his portion of the bonus to buy a beautiful three story house, and he still have tons left. "Still can't believe I'm a grandfather," Roman muttered to himself, shaking his head. He was too young for this. Too dashing, too many women left to charm. But if he was going to be a grandpa, he was going to be a rich one. Which meant more heists.

The pregnancy had complicated things, though. Neo was sidelined, which meant Jaune had to take her place on the Dust train job they got the green light for. Roman had been hesitant, but the resulting payout from the job overpowered his hesitantence and he have jaune with him. He is surprisingly capable.

He remembers getting onto to the train to claim the dust when the bloody white fang show up. Even worse its that damn Adam taurus the upcoming white fang member that came from nowhere. So many people died to that animal. To Roman delight he would never forget the sight. The White Fang lieutenant, Adam Taurus, stepped out of the Bullhead, glowing red sword in hand, looking for a fight and some rando black cat fanus chick as well. Roman seeing this signaled Jaune, who was wearing a modified, sleeker version of his Abysswalker armor to hide his face.

"I expect you to crumble as easily as the rest SDC scum," Adam had sneered. Jaune hadn't said a word. He just drew that heavy greatsword. When Adam lunged, pulling a poweful Moonslice focusing all of his aura and semblance into it carving through the air, Jaune met it with his shield. The shockwave shattered the windows of the train car. Adam staggered back, eyes wide, noone has ever stop that before, he is impressed. Jaune pressed the attack, his speed belied by his armor, forcing the terrorist back. For the first time, Roman saw Adam Taurus, the big bad bull is forced to retreat to a safe distance to blow the train tracks. It was shocking.

Roman shook himself from the memories. The warehouse was quiet now. The Bullhead for Beacon was due in a hour. On the couch, Jaune had finished packing. He sat down next to Neo, who was holding their son, little Leo, who was blinking awake. Jaune smiled, that goofy, sincere smile that had won over the most dangerous mute assassin in Vale.

"Hey, little man," Jaune whispered, tucking a blanket around the baby. "Daddy has to go to school for a bit. But I'm going to leave you with something. A story about a knight."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a large, old looking leather-bound storybook. The cover featured a painting of a knight in dark grey armor standing before a swirling purple vortex. It was a rare find from the island of Patch, his grandfather found it during the great war and it one of the older versions that told the legend of the Abysswalker.

"It's your favorite," Jaune said to Neo softly. "But I since we family now, might as well show a first edition as the other future editions they changed it. ."Neo raised an eyebrow, her eyes shifting to a curious purple. "one thing was removed was the poems about the Abyss Walker," Jaune explained, clearing his throat. "But...they are in the style of those old nonsense poems."

Roman rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, but he listened. He couldn't help it. The kid had a way of drawing you in. Jaune took a deep breath and began to recite, his voice dropping into a rhythmic, storytelling cadence.


'Twas brutal, and the righteous pale
Did weave and wind the darkened trail:
All mimsy were the Grimm-bones bred,
And the Jabberwock, with eyes of red,
Came creeping through the shadow-shale.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Curiosity Queen!
And shun the frumious Cat-ish scratch!"

He took his vorpal blade in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought
Then rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Queen of Curiosity,
With Cheshire grin and eyes of wood,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as she came!

She struck with speed of petal-storm,
A blur of rose and razor-form!
But on his plate the blows did land,
He stood his ground, a guarded man,
And laughed to see her rage transform.

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brutal, and the righteous pale
Did weave and wind the darkened trail:
The Knight in grey, who stood the test,
Now lays the monster to his rest,
And all is calm within the vale.

Jaune finished with a flourish, grinning down at little Leo, who had drifted back to sleep to the rhythm of his father's voice. Neo wiped a mock tear from her eye, clapping silently.

Even Roman found himself smirking behind his crate. "Nonsense," he muttered, pushing off the wood and walking toward them. "Absolute drivel. But... you've got a future in something, kid. Just don't make it poetry."

Jaune stood up, shouldering his bag. He gave Neo a long, lingering kiss, kissed the baby's forehead, and looked at Roman. "Ready?" Roman asked, jerking his head toward the door.

"Ready," Jaune said, the Dark Knight gone, replaced by the Huntsman in training. "Let's go show them what we've got."



Hope I did the poem right as I tried to do it simlair to Jabberwocky poem by Lewis Carroll.
When we get to beacon jaune is going to have an awkward time as he knows all of team rwby in various disguises and now has to hide that blake is apart of white fang as he cant explain how he knows.

Spoiler

lets just say the events of ever after are much darker here.

 

[AJ_Talon]

My conception of the larger geopolitics of Remnant (at least in my fan canon) is that Vale and Atlas are the two biggest and most powerful Kingdoms, with Mistral next strongest (but heavily divided) and Vacuo is least strongest, with multiple smaller nation states in the mix allying with the more powerful Kingdoms.

It's not a Cold War between Vale and Atlas' hegemons, exactly. More of a Cold Peace in that both alliances do compete with one another economically, culturally, technologically, but within a restrained framework due to the larger threat of the Grimm. The HAR and many treaties, trading networks, and other systems are in place to prevent a major war breaking out again between peer powers. The CCT Net is one of them.

And both Atlas and Vale have a critical interest in preventing large scale wars between eachother or other nations.

This isn't new: The Athenian and Spartan Leagues in Ancient Greece also competed with eachother and tried to prevent large scale conflict with one another... Because when it did, you got the Peloponnesian War which lasted Twenty-Seven years. And the Concert of Europe in the 1870s-1890s was designed to balance the Great Powers and allow for negotiation to prevent large scale conflicts from breaking out again.

(Yes they failed. So did the United Nations since last I checked, we still have wars.)

It doesn't help that there are elements in Atlas and Vale (The 1K Society for Atlas, various politicians in Vale) who would love for their kingdom to become the only superpower on the planet-For reasons varying from "It's for the good of all man/Faunuskind" to "I want power and influence". Competition between nations doesn't happen in a vacuum, it is a natural consequence of large numbers of people of unique cultural and ethnic heritage joined together into nation states having interests that conflict with the interests of other nation states.

Unlike Europe or Ancient Greece, the ever present threat of the Grimm and the massive losses of the Great War do help maintain the peace... But it also means that Salem has another avenue of causing chaos by upsetting the peace between the superpowers and causing wars and conflicts to cover up her efforts to recover the Relics and the Maidens for her ultimate plans. Making it look like Atlas deliberately attacked Vale, killing the Valean government, and causing chaos could easily lead to open hostilities between both alliances and war, which serves Salem's purposes just fine.

 

[AJ_Talon]

Mutual Defense Accord for Tenebrae Containment

Introduction

Throughout the entire known history of Remnant, the continent called "Tenebrae" by the Quitalans — meaning "Darkness" — has been a subject of myths, legends, and dread. Other names include the Grimmlands and, after its full map was completed in the 1960s AMF, the Dragon Continent. Ancient stories spoke of its origins and of the horrors that dwelt there with later accounts focusing on the existential threat — exceptionally powerful Grimm and hordes of immense size descending upon the lands of Sanus, Solitas, and Anima.

It is worth noting that Grimm-cultist polities — such as the Xolotlian Empire of Western Sanus (destroyed with Quitalan assistance in the 800s AMF) and the various barbaric kingdoms of Western Solitas (crushed by Konan of Hyperborea and his people in the 1100s AMF) — rose in close proximity to the Tenebrae continent, suggesting an ancient and sinister connection.

Large portions of the continent are permanently shrouded in black clouds. Visibility is near-zero, and electronic interference is severe. The interior is considered unreachable and unsurvivable by conventional means.

Throughout recorded history, Tenebrae has experienced major volcanic eruptions with catastrophic planetary consequences. These events have triggered climate disruptions, prolonged winters, and global Grimm surges. The most recent such eruption, in the mid 19th century, caused widespread crop failures and a spike in Grimm activity across the entire planet.

For these reasons, the signatory nations do not attempt to explore or pacify the continent itself. Their mission is containment, not conquest.

With the advancement of technology, the peoples of Remnant finally gained the ability to mitigate the threat emanating from the Dark Continent. Recognizing the danger to major population centers on Sanus, Solitas, and even distant Anima — all of which lie within range of individual gigantic Grimm specimens and massive hordes originating from Tenebrae — the signatory nations established a mutual defense framework for the permanent containment of the continent and its outlying islands — the Mutual Defense Accord for Tenebrae Containment of 1947.

1. Strategic Objectives

• Establish and maintain a continuous, heavily defended maritime and aerial perimeter around Tenebrae and its associated islands.
• Conduct proactive overwatch, reconnaissance, and elimination of high-level threats — whether individual colossal Grimm or unusually large hordes — to prevent migration toward inhabited continents.

2. Areas of Responsibility

1. Dragon Head Peninsula (North-West) – Mistralian Sector
2. Dragon Spit Archipelago (West) – Vacuan Sector only (located directly below the Dragon Head)
3. Southern Dragon Wing Peninsula (South) – Joint Vacuo–Vale Sector
4. Dragon Leg Peninsula (South-East) – Vale Sector only
5. Dragon Tail Island (East) – Vale Sector only
6. Northern Dragon Wing Archipelago (North, North-East) – Atlas Sector only

All four kingdoms maintain significant naval presence and fortified coastal bases along their assigned sectors. Patrols extend to the surrounding waters and airspace, with the understanding that no forces penetrate inland.

• Atlas Federation: Responsible for the north-eastern shores of Tenebrae – the Northern Dragon Wing Archipelago, and the eastern approaches of the Dragon Head Peninsula.
• United Nations of Vale: Responsible for the south-eastern and eastern shores – the Dragon Leg Peninsula, and the Dragon Tail Island chain.
• United Kingdom of Vacuo: Responsible for the south-western and western shores – the western part of the Southern Dragon Wing Peninsula, and the Dragon Spit Archipelago. Vacuo is represented by the fleets of Hispania (naval and air) and Baalia (air) - the forces, while not as numerous as those of Atlas or Vale, are competent and well-equipped for their assigned sector.
• Confederation of Mistral: Responsible for the north-western shores, centered on the Dragon Head Peninsula. Mistral maintains a more limited but still significant presence, primarily through the Eastern Fleet of Imperial Mistral and elements of the Northern Fleet of Rostram. Although Tenebrae is separated from Anima by an ocean (comparable in width to the Atlantic), the threat remains real: Grimm hordes and colossal specimens must cross the entire sea to reach Mistralian shores. Nevertheless, the risk of a catastrophic breakout is sufficient to justify Mistral's participation. Their contribution is valued though less extensive than that of the other three signatories.

Overlap and Mutual Support

On paper, the four nations share joint responsibility for the overall perimeter. In practice, Vale routinely supplements Vacuo's southern sector with additional patrols and logistics, while Mistral coordinates closely with Atlas on the north-western sector, sharing reconnaissance data and maintaining communication links. This flexible burden-sharing ensures continuous coverage despite Vacuo's more limited resources and Mistral's greater geographic distance from the primary threat.

3. Joint Mechanisms

To ensure effective coordination, the signatories have established a permanent command and coordination body known as the Joint Oversight Authority (JOA). The JOA is composed of senior military and civilian representatives from each of the four nations:

• United Nations of Vale
• Atlas Federation
• United Kingdom of Vacuo (operationally represented by the fleets of Hispania and Baalia)
• Confederation of Mistral (represented by the Imperial Mistralian Navy and the Rostramian Northern Fleet)

A separate seat is reserved for the Hunter Association of Remnant, which provides expert consultation on Grimm behavior and deploys licensed Hunters for high-risk reconnaissance and elimination missions when conventional forces prove insufficient. Hunters are rarely deployed to the perimeter itself but serve as rapid-response assets for confirmed major threats.

Functions
The JOA does not exercise direct operational command over national contingents — each signatory retains full authority over its own forces. Instead, it serves as a permanent forum for coordination, deconfliction, and strategic planning. Its primary functions include:

• Scheduling and synchronizing patrol rotations
• Facilitating the regular exchange of reconnaissance data (including Grimm movement patterns, island overwatch reports, and aerial imagery of the black cloud cover)
• Overseeing the annual joint exercises codenamed "Iron Veil," which test the perimeter's integrity and the ability of the signatories to reinforce one another under simulated breakout conditions

Leadership
Leadership of the JOA rotates annually among the four signatory nations. The rotating chair is responsible for convening sessions, setting the agenda, and mediating disputes, but holds no veto power over operational decisions made by individual national contingents within their assigned sectors. In practice, the JOA operates on a consensus basis, reflecting the understanding that a major Grimm breakout from Tenebrae would threaten all signatories regardless of political tensions elsewhere. While the Authority has no standing army of its own, its coordinating role is widely regarded as indispensable for maintaining the continuous, multi-national perimeter around the Dark Continent.

4. Operational Protocols

• All major operations must be pre-notified to the Joint Oversight Authority.
• Bases and naval forces are subject to mutual inspection to ensure compliance with established containment standards.
• Troop and crew rotations are encouraged to maintain operational effectiveness and prevent fatigue.
• No ground operations are conducted on Tenebrae itself. No aircraft or naval vessels are to penetrate inland beyond the coastal perimeter. The interior is designated as a permanent exclusion zone.

Outro - Current Status (2002 AMF)

The Tenebrae Defense Treaty remains one of the strongest and most consistently observed agreements between Vale, Atlas, Vacuo, and Mistral. Practical cooperation continues despite political tensions elsewhere, as each signatory recognizes that a major Grimm breakout from Tenebrae would threaten their respective continents regardless of rivalries.

Mistral's participation, while more limited due to the ocean barrier separating Anima from Tenebrae, remains an important component of the containment framework. The Eastern Fleet of Imperial Mistral and the Northern Fleet of Rostram patrol the Dragon Head Peninsula sector, coordinating closely with Atlas. The distance provides a buffer, but the signatories understand that complacency is not an option.

Vacuo's contribution, represented by the fleets of Hispania and Baalia, is competent and professional, though the Kingdom's limited resources require ongoing logistical support from Vale and Atlas. This is provided without fanfare and without diminishing Vacuo's status as an equal partner in the treaty.

The "Iron Veil" exercises continue to be held annually, with the most recent iteration (2001) successfully demonstrating the ability of the four signatories to coordinate a multi-national response to a simulated Grimm breakout. No major incursion has occurred since the containment perimeter was established, though smaller "leakage" events — individual Grimm or small groups bypassing the naval cordon — are intercepted several times per year. These are considered routine operational matters, handled by national patrols without requiring JOA intervention.

- - -

Written with @Colobopsis

 

[AJ_Talon]

Valean Defense Force – Navy (VDF-N) Profile
"The Azure Fleet"

Population base: ~300 million (Vale proper + sub-kingdoms)
Strategic posture: Global expeditionary power with forward presence across Sanus, Anima, Tenebrae, and the southern oceans, while maintaining a delicate balance between alliance commitments and counter-terrorism.

1. Strategic Assumptions

• Vale must project power across two continents, multiple island chains, and the oceans while maintaining homeland defense against Grimm incursions.
• Atlas remains the primary peer competitor (technological edge, military and economy), but direct war must be avoided.
• Tenebrae Continent (Grimmland) is the single greatest existential threat and requires constant joint containment with Atlas , Mistral and Vacuo under the Tenebrae Containment Accord.
• Vacuo is a major but unstable ally — culturally close to Vale, yet prone to internal chaos and heavy Atlas economic influence (especially SDC).
• Mistral is an ally, but a chaotic one. The sub-kingdoms of Anima that are ostensibly part of Mistral usually manage their own affairs, some of them strong allies of Vale, others opposed and aligned with Atlas or their own interests.
• Sea, ground and air lanes are vital for Dust, food, and trade. Disruption equals national emergency.
• Menagerie is a trading partner and political ally, but does not allow human military bases on its mainland. Vale must balance strong relations with Menagerie while aggressively cracking down on White Fang terrorism (which operates from Menagerie but is condemned by its government).
• Allies and proxies (Menagerie, Fuujin, Pandu, Western (Red Dragon) Mistral, parts of the Hellenic League, and Vacuo) require reliable support and deterrence.

2. Strategic Goals

• Maintain command of the seas and lower skies to protect trade routes and enable rapid global response.
• Deter Atlas from aggressive expansion while avoiding arms-race escalation.
• Enforce the Tenebrae Containment Accord through sustained perimeter operations and joint patrols with Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo.
• Support expeditionary operations and coalition warfare (H.A.R.-led or bilateral).
• Provide humanitarian/disaster relief and Grimm containment to build and maintain soft power.
• Protect sub-kingdoms (Endeavor, Gallia, Vytal) and forward bases.
• Maintain the delicate Menagerie relationship: support the legitimate government while hunting White Fang without violating Menagerie sovereignty.

3. Fleet Missions

• Sea Control / Air Superiority in key chokepoints (Great Southern Ocean, Allomenian Sea, North Sanusian Sea, Iksander Sea and Strait, Aggripine Sea) and around Valean coasts.
• Power Projection: Amphibious assault, Marine insertion, and sustained air support.
• Escort & Trade Protection: Convoy defense for Dust and bulk carriers.
• Forward Presence: Show the flag, support allies, conduct freedom-of-navigation patrols.
• Tenebrae Containment: Long-range strikes on major Grimm nests and pools, perimeter patrols, and joint operations with Atlas.
• Vacuo Support: Rapid response and joint operations along the Great Sanusian Plateau and Vacuo's unstable regions.
• Anti-White Fang Operations: Intelligence, interdiction, and strikes on terrorist assets while respecting Menagerie's sovereignty.
• Humanitarian & Expeditionary Support: Disaster response, evacuation, and rapid reinforcement.

4. Fleet Design Philosophy
Vale emphasizes flexible, high-mobility, long-endurance vessels. Designs favor:

• Strong VTOL and smallcraft capacity.
• Excellent sensors and command facilities.
• Modular mission bays for Huntsmen/Special Forces.
• Advanced Dust reactors for reliability in extended operations.

Overall doctrine is carrier centric for long range power projection with powerful (primarily gun focused) escorts and combatants, with heavy logistical support in the air and on the sea.

5. Force Size (Plausible 2000 AMF Order of Battle)
Major Combatants

• Aerial Supercarriers (Fleet Carriers): 8 (2 per major fleet)
• Workhorse Carriers / Assault Ships: 20
• Battleships: 10
• Gun Cruisers: 26
• Gun Destroyers: 70
• Gun Corvettes / Frigates: 129

Support & Auxiliary Forces

• Support Airships (Logistics, Tankers, Hospital, Repair): 58
• Sea Based Combat Frigates, Cutters, Sloops and Support Ships: 210
• Marine Expeditionary Air Wings: 5 full Marine Air-Ground Task Forces
• Huntsmen Detachments: Integrated on all major vessels

Total Active Air Navy Personnel: ~392,000 (including Marines and support).
Reserve/Ready Reserve: ~195,000.

6. Force Management

• Four Major Fleets:
  • Northern Fleet (Northern Sub-kingdoms - Vytal, Gallia, Vale-Proper)
  • Southern Fleet (Southern Sub-kingdoms Nova Quitalia, Arminus and Eastern Endeavor and Vacuo)
  • Western Fleet (Niederung and Western Endeavor + Plateau + Vacuo + Tenebrae)
  • Eastern Fleet (Anima - Hellenia, Fuujin, Pandu, Western Mistral, Taejo)
• Tenebrae Containment Squadron: A dedicated rotating task force (usually 2 carriers + support) that works jointly with Atlas under the Containment Accord.
• Vacuo Joint Command: Permanent liaison and rapid-response elements embedded with Vacuan forces for Plateau operations.
• Rotation & Forward Deployment: 1/3 on deployment, 1/3 training/refit, 1/3 ready reserve.
• Command Structure: Falls under VDF Joint Staff with strong civilian oversight. Huntsmen retain operational autonomy.
• Doctrinal Edge: "Distributed lethality" combined with strong alliance integration — allowing Vale to cover vast distances while respecting partners and maintaining coalition strength. Long endurance and strong logistics, with a focus on combined arms, coordination, and squad/ship level initiative. Strong Hunter integration. Due to lack of Hardlight Dust Shielding like Atlas, significant emphasis is placed on carrier power projection and air dominance, but heavy combatant battleships are still in use and form the center of task forces for Anti-Grimm, strike, freedom of navigation or humanitarian/support missions.

 

[AJ_Talon]

Had a funny idea: Ren is actually a fan of the Remnant equivalent of James Bond-A series of spy movies. He watched some of the movies with his father. Jaune finds out, and they marathon the other movies. Ren admits that as silly as it was, he did always admire his fictional hero, how cool and stoic and heroic he was. He didn't tell Nora because he couldn't afford to indulge in fantasy while they were surviving together, not for a second... But he did imagine himself as his hero from time to time. He is only human, after all.

Nora overhears, and has an idea! Which she takes to Jaune and Ruby... And they agree it's great! They decide to let Ren be a Super Spy in a fun LARP, and they rope their teams and Ozpin into it.

Ruby is Q. Ozpin is the M-equivalent (With Glynda going along with rolled eyes but trying to help). Nora of course will be the girl Ren ends up with! And Jaune... Is the villain!

Nora also chooses Weiss as another Bond girl.

Weiss: "Why me?"

Nora: "Because my Renny is so manly, I can't risk just any woman doing this job! So we need a lesbian!"

Weiss: "Wha-I'M NOT A LESBIAN! I dated Neptune!"

Nora: "And point made!"

Weiss: "UGH!"

It turns into chaos! Wonderful chaos! Can Lie Ren, Agent 44 (Death and Death in Chinese number association) overcome this peril and save the day?!

 

[AJ_Talon]

A fun idea for Jaune's joint Albion/Gallian heritage? When visiting on the farm...

Blake: "So... You have a holiday called Bonfire Night?"

Jaune: "Yes!"

Blake: "Do you... Dispose of anything in the bonfire?"

Jaune: "Well, extra timber and old wood, sure."

Blake: "Anything else you burn?"

Jaune: "Well... We have an effigy of Roy Hawks. He tried to blow up the government and failed. So we burn him to remember his failure."

Blake: "Like... You're happy he failed?"

Jaune: "No."

Blake: *blinks* "Wasn't your nana the Empress of the entire Empire? Why would she celebrate someone failing to blow up her government?"

Nana Arturia, walking up, huffs.

Arturia: "As someone who had to be the bloody government... Of course I'm bloody upset he didn't blow it up!"

Blake: "... Huh."

 

[AJ_Talon]

The courtyard was alive with the sound of laughter and the low hum of a leafblower.

Jaune jogged behind Mia, who was pedaling her little red tricycle as fast as her short legs could manage. He kept the leafblower pointed just behind her back wheel, giving her an extra burst of speed every few seconds. Mia squealed with delight every time she shot forward.

"Faster, Papa! Faster!"

Jaune laughed, sweat dripping down his face. "You're already going Mach 5, kiddo!"

Yang walked up from the side path, arms crossed, a warm smile on her face as she watched them.

"Look at you two," she called out.

Mia spotted her and waved wildly. "Auntie Yang!"

Yang caught the tricycle as it zoomed past, spun Mia around in a playful circle, and pushed her back toward Jaune. The leafblower kicked in again, sending Mia shooting forward with another delighted squeal. They played like that for a few minutes — Yang catching her, pushing her back, Jaune boosting her with the leafblower — until Mia was laughing so hard she could barely pedal.

Finally, Yang hugged Mia, and pushed her off on her tricycle. She walked over to a nearby bench and sat down beside Jaune, who turned off the leafblower and wiped his forehead.

Mia drove around, giggling happily as she skidded around the courtyard, not a care in the world.

Yang glanced sideways at Jaune. "So… how are you doing?"

Jaune leaned back, exhaling. "I'm doing fine. Tired, but fine."

Yang was quiet for a moment, then asked, "So... Um... The Dance."

Jaune nodded.

"Yeah. The Dance."

Yang sucked in a breath.

"So, you know... It's coming up. Like, uh, heh... Fast. Like a jig."

"Heh, yeah," Jaune nodded. Yang leaned forward, studying her hands.

"Sooo... Uh... You have a date yet?"

Jaune tensed slightly. He took a deep breath.

"No."

"Huh, funny," Yang smirked, "Same... You want to fix that?"

Jaune took another deep breath. He slowly turned, making sure he was looking Yang right in the eyes. He took her hands in his.

"I'd love to take you," he said honestly. "But… I'm not ready yet. There are other girls interested in me, and I don't want to make a choice right now. Not at a dance where things might get ugly, especially with training missions starting soon. So… I want to just go as friends. With everyone."

Yang's eyes flashed red for a brief second. She looked away, jaw tight. Then she sighed, the red fading.

"…I'm not happy about it," she admitted. "But I get it. You're trying to be fair."

Jaune nodded. "I'm not a playboy. I'm not some scumbag who's stringing everyone along—"

Yang reached over and gently covered his mouth with her hand.

"I know you're not," she said softly. She leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. "But that just means I know the game now… and I'm going to play to win."

She pulled back with a determined grin, then turned it to Mia as she drove up to her.

"Vroom vroom! Will you take me on Bumblebee, Auntie Yang?"

Yang grinned and ruffled her hair, making her giggle.

"When you're old enough. Now... Go play, kiddo."

Mia cheered pedaled off happily.

Yang stood up, stretching. "See you later, Vomit Boy."

She walked off with a confident sway in her step, leaving Jaune staring after her.

Mia pedaled back over a minute later, tilting her head at him.

"Daddy? Are you okay?"

Jaune blinked, then gave her a tired smile. "I… Well… I hope so."

As Mia rode off again, one thought kept circling in his head:

How the hell am I going to break the news to the others?

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

This was going to be a long week.

 

[AJ_Talon]

The JNPR common room was lively that evening. Team RWBY had wandered over after training, turning the space into a casual hangout. Jaune was trying (and failing) to read a textbook while Pyrrha quizzed him. Nora and Ruby were playing cards. Blake read in the corner. Yang lounged on the couch, and Weiss sat primly with a book.

The door burst open.

Neptune Vasilias strode in, bottle of expensive-looking wine in hand and a confident smirk plastered on his face. His eyes immediately locked onto
Weiss.

"Hey, Weiss! Looking gorgeous as always." He shot Jaune a sidelong glance. "And Arc. Figured I'd stop by."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Neptune. What brings you here?"

Neptune held up the bottle like a trophy. "Heard you've been spending time with this guy lately," he said, jerking a thumb at Jaune. "Thought we could have a little friendly competition. Man to man. Drinking contest. Winner gets bragging rights… and maybe a dance with you at the next event."

Jaune blinked. "Wait, what? I don't agree to—"

Yang immediately sat up. "Ooh, drinking contest? He's in!"

Nora's eyes sparkled. "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

Weiss examined the bottle. "Hm. That's actually a decent vintage. Surprising choice, Neptune."

Neptune grinned, clearly taking that as a win. "Only the best for you, Snow Angel."

Jaune took the bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed. His face immediately scrunched up. "This is… overpriced swill. My family's been making wine since before my great-grandpa was born. This stuff tastes like someone fermented regret and charged extra for the label."

Neptune smirked. "You just don't want to drink it because you're a lightweight, Farm Boy."

Jaune sighed. "No, it's genuinely bad wine—"

"DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!" Nora and Yang chanted in unison.

Ruby clapped excitedly. "This is gonna be great!"

Ren gave Jaune a little smirk and shrug from his meditation mat. No help there.

Jaune rubbed his temple. "Alright, fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

- - -

Two glasses later, Neptune was face-down on the table, mumbling incoherently about "cool poses" and "shark shirts."

Nora and Ruby had already broken out the markers and were happily drawing mustaches, hearts, and little fish on his face.

Pyrrha stared in quiet awe. "Wow… that's some liver, Jaune."

Jaune shrugged, perfectly composed after three full glasses. "Just stuff I've been drinking since I was a kid. My family makes the good stuff. This?" He swirled the glass with mild disgust. "This is tourist trap wine."

Yang let out a low whistle, grinning. "Heh… you think you could outdrink me, Stud?"

Jaune gave her a nervous smile. "Well, uh… I dunno…?"

"You can outdrink me too!" Pyrrha said quickly.

Weiss, still staring at the bottle like it had personally betrayed her, crossed her arms. "I can't believe you called it a bad vintage!"

Jaune gave her an apologetic look. "It's a bad everything of wine. I'll call up my parents and send you some good stuff. The Arc Reserve '78 is supposed to be excellent this year."

Weiss opened her mouth, closed it, then muttered, "…I would not be opposed to that."

Neptune let out a loud snore, a little doodled heart now on his cheek.

Blake looked up from her book. "Should we… wake him up?"

Nora beamed. "Nah! He's our new canvas! I shall make him my masterpiece!"

Blake raised an eyebrow.

"You're drawing a penis."

"Don't question our artistic vision!"

 

[jojoin567]

@AndrewJTalon
Theatre time for the Dragon Slayer Family....



Arcadia Theatre


It was the 30th wedding anniversary of Jaune and Yang. To celebrate their anniversary Jaune and Yang rented an entire theatre to watch their favourite movies with all 18 of their children.

Jaune: holding hands with Yang "We came a long way haven't we babe."

Yang: leaning on his arm "Yes..., nothing would top this experience my dear hubby."


Some of the children were getting cavities while the smaller ones ewwed at them......still they enjoyed their times with their parents.


Jaune: smiling mischievously "Hey Yang, do you know the reason why a pigeon's voice doesn't echo in the auditorium?"

Yang: smiling back "Why Jaune?"

Jaune: "Because of acoosticks!!"


A few seats behind

Xia: calling her aunt "Hey, aunty Rubes."

Ruby: in a confused voice "What is it Xia??"

Xia: "Can we crash at your place aunty?"

Ruby: "........Jaune told Yang a pun right??"

Xia: " .....yes"

Ruby: after exhaling deeply "Give me 30 minutes, let me prepare the beds."

 

[AJ_Talon]

The Beacon Cafeteria courtyard was unusually busy that afternoon, thanks to one very determined four-year-old.

Mia sat behind a rickety old wooden table she'd convinced the teachers to let her use. A slightly crooked cardboard sign reading "LEMONAD" in bright crayon letters was taped to the front. On the table sat a big pitcher of powdered lemonade, a stack of plastic cups, and a small bucket of ice Dust keeping everything cool.

Professor Ozpin had stopped by earlier when Mia had shyly asked him for money to buy her papa a gift for Father's Day.

"I can't just give you money, Mia," Ozpin had said with a gentle chuckle. "But if you want to earn it, you could set up a lemonade stand. That's how many enterprising young people begin."

So here she was, standing behind her little table, determination in her eyes.

Coco Adel was the first to walk by. She stopped, tilting her sunglasses down as she took in the scene.

"What's all this, darling?"

Mia looked up with big, hopeful eyes. "I'm selling lemonade! I want to buy my Papa a really good Father's Day gift because I love him lots!"

Coco's heart visibly melted. Without another word, she pulled out a generous stack of lien and handed it over.

"Keep the change, cutie." She took a cup, took one sip, and somehow kept a straight face. "Delicious."

She immediately waved over the rest of CFVY. Velvet, Fox, and Yatsuhashi each bought a cup (and quietly suffered through the overly sweet, slightly gritty lemonade) while Coco dramatically praised it as "a bold new flavor profile."

Other students started trickling in.

Neptune swaggered up, trying to impress May Zedong, who was walking beside him. "One cup for the lovely lady, and one for me!"

May blushed, quietly bought her own cup, and whispered, "Thank you…" before scurrying off. Neptune went after her.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Cardin walked by with his little sister Sam on his shoulders. Sam pointed excitedly at the stand.

"Lemonade!" she demanded.

Cardin groaned but pulled out lien. "Fine. But only because you're cute, kid."

"Yay!" Mia cheered.

"I wasn't talking to you, brat," Cardin grumbled, but at Sam tugging on his hair he coughed, "I mean... Just give me some lemonade!"

"Okay!"

Even General Ironwood, passing through on his way to a meeting, stopped. He regarded the stand with his usual seriousness, bought a cup, took a single sip, and nodded once.

"Acceptable hydration."

Mia's little table was soon surrounded. She was handing out cups as fast as she could, her face flushed with pride and effort.

Then she ran out of lemonade.

The pitcher was empty. The line was still there. Mia's lip started to wobble.

"I… I don't have any more…" she whispered, eyes filling with tears. "Now I can't get Papa a gift…"

RWBY and JNPR pushed through the small crowd just in time to see Mia's face crumple.

"Wha... Mia, seriously? What is all this?" Jaune asked.

"I-I wanted to get money to buy you a gift and-and Professor Ozpin said I could earn it-And-And I ran out of lemonade and now I can't buy you one!" Mia bawled.

The female majority of the two teams all looked at the heartbreaking scene with looks of affection and sorrow. Even Blake.

Weiss was the first to be practical.

Weiss sighed. "Mia, I could have just given you the money-"

"No!" Mia sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I had to earn it! For Papa! Y-You do everything and I-I wanna do something for you!"

Jaune knelt down immediately and pulled her into his arms. "Hey, hey… it's okay, kitten."

He hugged her tight, rubbing her back as she cried into his shoulder.

"You don't have to do anything special for me," he said softly. "You're already the greatest gift I could ever have. I love you so much, Mia. And I'm so grateful for you trying to do this for me."

Mia sniffled, then smiled through her tears and planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek. "Love you, Papa."

Jaune chuckled and wiped her face gently. "Love you too, sweetie. Now… how much did you make?"

Mia held up a surprisingly thick stack of lien with both hands.

Jaune stared.

The rest of RWBY and JNPR stared.

Nora let out a low whistle. "That's… gotta be close to a hundred thousand lien."

"Hundred thousand and fifty," Ruby muttered. "Geez... We never did those numbers for our lemonade stand!"

"We were out in the middle of nowhere," Yang added. She patted Mia on the head with a broad grin. "Nice work, kiddo!"

Jaune coughed in disbelief. "Mia… how—?"

Mia shrugged innocently, still sniffling. "Lots of people bought lemonade. Is it enough for anything good?"

Jaune looked at the stack, then at his beaming, tear-streaked daughter, and started laughing — half in disbelief, half in pure love.

"Yeah, kitten," he said, pulling her into another tight hug. "It's more than enough."

 

[AJ_Talon]

Pyrrha has a marriage meeting...

- - -

Pyrrha Nikos sat perfectly straight in the plush leather seat of her mother's private airship, hands folded in her lap, smile polite and practiced. The expression had served her well in tournaments, interviews, sponsorship galas—anywhere the world demanded the Invincible Girl be serene, gracious, untouchable. Inside, she was screaming.

Athena Nikos stood at the viewport, radiant as ever in a flowing emerald gown that caught the light like stage spotlights. Even pushing sixty, her mother looked barely forty; the benefits of a lifetime of Aura discipline and the best cosmetic surgeons lien could buy. Athena turned, beaming.

"You're going to love him, darling. Truly. Old blood—real blood. His great-grandmother ruled half the known world before she abdicated. The family still commands respect in every court from Vale to Vacuo. A match like this will open every door your tournament wins never could."

Pyrrha's smile didn't waver. "I have Beacon, Mother. I'm happy there."

Athena waved a dismissive hand. "Beacon is charming, yes, and I indulged you because you begged so prettily. But you're nineteen now. Past time to think of your future beyond schoolyard heroics."

Pyrrha looked out the window so her mother wouldn't see the flicker of pain in her eyes. She had fought this for months—quietly, carefully, the only way she dared. Athena Nikos loved her daughter fiercely, in the way a director loves her star actress: with absolute certainty that she alone knew what role suited her best. Pyrrha had begged, reasoned, even cried once (in private). In the end, she had agreed to one meeting. Just one. Then perhaps her mother would let it rest.

She missed her team so fiercely it hurt. Nora would have filled the cabin with wild chatter and threats to blow up any suitor who looked at Pyrrha wrong. Ren would have sat beside her in calm silence, offering the comfort of simply being there. And Jaune…

Jaune would have made her laugh. Clumsy, earnest Jaune, who believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself.

But Jaune had a family obligation this weekend, and Nora and Ren had been firmly told they were not invited. So Pyrrha endured alone.

She straightened her spine further. Fine. She would attend this farce, greet this spoiled princeling, and make it unmistakably clear that Pyrrha Nikos was no one's bargaining chip. She would be polite—devastatingly so—and he would flee back to whatever gilded manor had birthed him.

The airship descended toward a picturesque mountain valley. Radian nestled there like something out of an old storybook: white stone walls, colorful banners fluttering from towers, a waterfall cascading down the mountainside into a crystal lake. A castle perched on the highest hill, banners of blue and gold snapping in the wind.

Athena clasped her hands. "Beautiful, isn't it? It was the imperial seat once. They turned the old castle into a hospital after the war—such forward thinking."

Pyrrha followed her mother down the ramp onto the landing pad. The air smelled of pine and fresh bread. Townspeople waved cheerfully as they passed; several called out greetings to Athena by name. Her mother had clearly done her research.

They walked along cobblestone streets toward the hill. The castle-hospital loomed closer, its ancient walls softened by flowering vines. A grand sign arched over the main gate: Arc-en-Ciel Medical Center.

Pyrrha stopped dead.

Arc-en-Ciel.

It couldn't be.

Her mother noticed her pause. "Is something wrong, darling?"

"No," Pyrrha said faintly. "Nothing."

But her heart was suddenly pounding. Jaune had mentioned his family ran a hospital in his hometown. He'd laughed about it once, saying his mother threatened to make him scrub bedpans if he ever slacked off on his studies.

No. It was a coincidence. Plenty of families had rainbow-themed names. Plenty of hospitals were converted castles.

They were led through pristine halls that still retained vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows depicting knights and lions. Nurses in pastel scrubs nodded respectfully. Finally they reached a private conference room on the top floor, sunlight pouring through tall windows onto a long oak table.

Nick and Isabel Arc rose to greet them—tall, kind-eyed, unmistakably Jaune's parents. And there, seated at the head of the table in a simple yet regal blue gown, golden circlet resting on silver-white hair, was Queen Arturia Pendragon herself.

Athena swept into an elegant curtsy. "Your Majesty. Lady Isabel, Lord Nicholas. What an honor."

Arturia's smile was warm, almost grandmotherly, but her eyes—sharp as any blade—assessed them both. "Athena Nikos. Pyrrha Nikos." She inclined her head. "I have heard much about you from my great-grandson."

Athena's perfectly maintained smile cracked a bit. "Y-your—?!"

The side door burst open.

"Yoooo! Baby!" A tall blond figure strutted in wearing a blindingly pink pair of heart-shaped sunglasses, at least six gaudy gold chains layered over a half-unbuttoned silk shirt, and—Pyrrha wasn't entirely sure—white pants so tight they had to be illegal in at least three kingdoms. He struck a pose, one hand on his hip, the other pointing finger-guns. "You are lookin' fiiiine, girl, and I am here to—Pyrrha?!"

The sunglasses slipped down his nose.

Jaune Arc stared at her in open-mouthed horror.

Pyrrha stared back.

Athena's smile froze in place. Isabel pinched the bridge of her nose. Nick coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

Arturia sighed, long and suffering. "Jaune. What are you wearing?"

Jaune yanked the sunglasses off, face flaming crimson. "Nana, I—this was—I thought if I acted like a total tool, she'd hate me and we could all go home! I didn't know it was Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha felt something bubble up in her chest—relief, amusement, affection so fierce it nearly knocked her over. The tension that had coiled inside her for weeks unraveled all at once.

She laughed.

It started as a small, startled sound and grew until she had to cover her mouth, shoulders shaking. Jaune's expression shifted from mortification to sheepish delight.

Athena cleared her throat sharply. "Pyrrha."

Pyrrha straightened, wiping her eyes, composure sliding back into place like armor. But her voice was softer than it had been in days.

"Hello, Jaune."

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, chains clinking embarrassingly. "Hi, Pyr. Uh… surprise?"

Arturia rose. "Perhaps the two of you would like a moment in the courtyard. Alone."

Athena opened her mouth—clearly to protest—but one look from the former empress stilled her tongue. Nick gently took his wife's elbow. "Come along, ladies. I believe the kids have some catching up to do."

The adults filed out. The door closed with a soft click.

Silence.

Then Pyrrha stepped forward and, very carefully, flicked one of the gold chains. "This is new."

Jaune groaned, covering his face. "I look like a Mistral nightclub owner's midlife crisis. I'm so sorry. I thought if I scared the suitor away, Nana would stop dragging me to these things."

Pyrrha's smile turned gentle. "You were trying to sabotage the meeting?"

"Every time," he admitted. "Usually it works within five minutes. I didn't know it was you."

"I didn't know it was you either." She tilted her head. "Arc-en-Ciel. I should have guessed."

He winced. "Yeah. Sorry for the… everything." He gestured helplessly at his outfit.

Pyrrha studied him—ridiculous clothes and all—and felt the last of her dread melt away. "I was planning to do the same thing, you know. Be perfectly polite and utterly untouchable until he ran screaming."

Jaune's eyes widened. "Really?"

She nodded. "I thought he'd be some arrogant prince who saw me as a trophy."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Instead you got… this."

"I think," Pyrrha said softly, "I much prefer this."

Jaune's blush returned full force. He reached up as if to remove the chains, then stopped. "So… courtyard? Before my nana decides to come back and lecture us both on proper courtship attire?"

Pyrrha offered her arm, the way he always did for her at Beacon dances when he thought no one was watching. "Lead the way, Prince Jaune."

He took it carefully, like she was something precious. "For the record," he muttered as they stepped into the sunlight, "I'd have worn something normal if I'd known it was you."

Pyrrha leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. "I know."

And for the first time in weeks, she felt perfectly, completely at peace.

 

[AJ_Talon]

Blake is running through the woods near Radian. Some of the WF are chasing after her, even with Adam's orders. It's the day but they just won't stop. Blake runs into a clearing, intent on a final stand...

They run into a picnic where two old humans, a man and his wife, are enjoying themselves.

Arturia: "Oh. Hello young lady. Young people... Did you come to join our picnic?"

Blake: "Run away! They're after me!"

WF Thug: "They're humans! She's sided with them! Traitor! We should cut her legs off and bring her back to Adam!"

WF Thug 2: "And kill these two and bring their skins!"

Blake: What the hell is wrong with these people?! How did I not see how bad they were becoming?!

The old woman, a fading blonde in a blue dress, stands up and brushes off her dress.

Blake: "PLEASE! RUN AWAY!"

Arturia: "Honestly, young people today. They're so violent, rude and reckless, never thinking about anything but themselves. You should be ashamed of yourselves, terrorizing a young lady in the woods!"

White Fang Thug: "Shut up, you old hag!" He shoots a gun at her, Blake tries to deflect it... But the old woman brings up her sword and casually deflects it.

Shirou: Arrow notched, bow ready "You need help, darling?"

Arturia: "Some support would be appreciated, I'm not as young as I used to be."

A beatdown ensues. The two old people and Blake are triumphant... But the old lady staggers a bit. Blake rushes to help her as she pants hard, soon joined by Shirou helping his wife.

Blake: "Are-Are you all right?!"

Arturia: "Haa... Haa... Been a while... Since I had a fight like that..."

Shirou: "Hooo... Young lady, would you kindly help us both back to our car? We'll give you a ride into town."

Blake: "I-I don't think I can-"

Arturia: "ACK! MY HEART! MY HEART! IT'S A BIG ONE!"

Blake: "!!!"

Shirou: "Please help! My wife-her heart-!"

Blake: "Y-yes! Yes! Right away!"

Arturia and Shirou wink at eachother as Blake helps them to their car.

Shirou: "I told you not to eat so many burgers."

Arturia: "Blasphemy! Burgers are proof of God's love!"

 

[AJ_Talon]

The lawn in front of the dorms was peaceful under the warm afternoon sun. A small kiddie pool had been set up on the grass, and Mia sat in it with her bright pink water wings, splashing half-heartedly. Jaune knelt beside the pool, keeping a close eye on her.

"Having fun, kitten?" he asked with a gentle smile.

Mia pouted, kicking her legs and making small waves. "No. I wanna go to the big pool."

Jaune sighed. "You're not big enough yet, sweetie."

"I'm plenty big enough!" Mia protested, standing up in the shallow water and puffing out her chest.

Weiss walked by at that exact moment, overhearing. "She's more than big enough," she declared. "I learned how to swim when I was younger than Mia!"

Ruby bounced over, nodding enthusiastically. "Me too! I was swimming before I could even ride a bike properly!"

Mia's eyes lit up. She turned to Jaune with the biggest, most hopeful look she could muster. "Pretty please, Papa? I'll be super safe!"

Jaune looked at the three of them, then at his daughter's pleading face. He sighed again, long and defeated.

"…Alright. Let's go to the big pool."

- - -

Later, at the academy's large outdoor pool, Yang, Pyrrha, Nora, Ren (wearing a shirt, as usual), Weiss, Blake, and Ruby were waiting near the shallow end. Yang stretched her arms overhead.

"It's good that Weisscream is encouraging Jaune to be more open with Mia," she said, "but why the pool specifically?"

Weiss smirked. "Because water is refreshing. And educational."

The group turned as Jaune emerged from the changing area.

He was shirtless, wearing only dark swim trunks. His muscular frame — honed by years of training and recent sessions with his father — was on full display, crisscrossed with faint scars from past battles. Mia walked beside him in a cute pink one-piece swimsuit, complete with water wings and a bright float ring around her waist.

"Pool! Pool! Pool!" Mia chanted happily, bouncing with each step.

Jaune chuckled, holding her hand. "Yes, the pool."

The girls stared.

Yang's lilac eyes widened. Weiss's teacup nearly slipped from her fingers. Pyrrha's cheeks turned pink. Ruby's silver eyes went huge. Blake's ears twitched under her bow.

Yang swallowed. "…Okay, you have good ideas sometimes, Weiss."

Weiss smirked, trying to look composed. "Don't I?"

Yang grinned. "But I have a better one."

She sauntered over to Jaune and Mia. Mia cheered when she saw her. "Auntie Yang!"

Yang scooped Mia up into her arms with a laugh. "Here you go, kiddo!"

She slipped into the pool with Mia, then turned and splashed a big wave of water right at Jaune.

"Whoops!"

Jaune yelped as the cold water hit him. "Ack! Hey!"

Water ran down his muscular chest and arms, glistening in the sunlight and highlighting every scar and defined line.

Yang laughed. "Haha!"

Weiss's eyes sparkled. "Genius!"

Ruby nodded rapidly. "So genius!"

Blake murmured, "Brilliant…"

Pyrrha's voice was slightly higher than usual. "So brilliant!"

Nora beamed and turned to Ren. "Soooo—"

Ren, still fully clothed, didn't even open his eyes. "I'll disrobe and get wet when I want to, Nora."

Nora pouted. "Phooey!"

"In a few minutes."

"WOO!"

 

[AJ_Talon]

STABILIZED GRIMM REMAINS – PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS
Project Eternal Night – Report #003
Lead Researcher: Dr. Abraham List, De Leon Institute for Grimm Studies (Vale)
Contributing Researchers: Senior Technician Illya Vanko (containment & hydrokinetic support), Data Analyst Marcus Kael (resonance mapping)
Date: May 1992 (AMF)
Classification: Restricted – De Leon Institute / Vale Council Eyes Only

Abstract
Grimm do not conform to any known biological classification. They are temporary manifestations of an exotic, non-native substance that maintains temporary coherence through negative emotion. This substance — tentatively designated Umbrite (or "Nox-matter") — dissolves rapidly upon the host form's destruction but can be stabilized for limited study using Lightning Dust temporal-dilation fields. Analysis reveals properties that defy standard Remnant physics and chemistry.

Methodology

• Sample: Partial remains of a juvenile Beowolf (claws, upper torso, core fluid) recovered following a standard militia engagement outside Vale.
• Containment: Custom Lightning Dust lattice chamber creating localized temporal slowdown (approx. 1:180 factor). Augmented with secondary Ice Dust barriers and hydrokinetic membrane for leak prevention.
• Instruments: Electon microscopy, adapted mass spectrometer, Aura-resonance emitter (minimal ethical exposure), quantum scanner.
• Safety: Full Aura-reinforced protocols. Positive emotional stimuli used as counterbalance. Sample fully neutralized post-study.

Key Findings

1. Macroscopic Appearance (Stabilized)
The material appears as a viscous, pitch-black fluid with faint internal swirling luminescence that absorbs ambient light. Under stasis it retains structural integrity far longer than normal, slowly forming and collapsing phantom shapes — claws, maws, eyes — as if the substance retains a residual "memory" of its prior form. The effect is hypnotic and deeply unsettling.

2. Microscopic / Sub-Microscopic Structure
No cellular architecture, organelles, or recognizable biomolecules. No DNA, proteins, or metabolic processes.The substance consists of dynamic Grimm motes — fractal, non-Euclidean particles suspended in an unknown shadow medium. These motes self-organize into larger temporary structures when agitated. The medium itself bends light anomalously and does not match any known solvent, gas, or plasma.

3. Compositional Analysis

• Dominant component: Umbrite — exotic matter with measurable negative mass contributions and properties that produce imaginary terms in standard physical equations. It does not register on the conventional periodic table.
• Trace familiar elements appear in distorted isotopic states or impossible molecular bonds. Normal matter is absorbed and converted into more Umbrite through some process still not
• Spectroscopic signatures show unique absorption lines unmatched by any known element or compound on Remnant. Some patterns echo theoretical dark-matter models or ancient anomalous readings from pre-Great War ruins.
• No detectable Aura or soul signature. The material actively disrupts or consumes nearby Aura.

4. Dynamic & Behavioral Properties

• Dissolution Drive: Even in stasis, slow leakage occurs. The substance appears driven toward entropy and dispersal.
• Matter Conversion: Normal matter in contact with active Umbrite is gradually absorbed and converted into additional Umbrite through a process that remains only partially understood. Inconclusive theories suggest a form of exotic catalysis or quantum-level restructuring where ambient atoms are destabilized and reconfigured into the shadow medium, effectively allowing the substance to "feed" and grow in mass over time. This may explain the observed expansion of Grimm populations in heavily infested regions and why they consume humans.
• Emotional Reactivity: Negative emotional stimuli (recorded fear, anger, despair) accelerate mote activity and aggressive pattern formation. Positive stimuli or strong Aura exposure triggers violent rejection and accelerated breakdown.
• Aura Interaction: Functions as an Aura sink. Introduced Aura is partially absorbed or destabilized, explaining their attraction to negativity.
• Regeneration: Damaged sections slowly reform using ambient motes or shadow medium. Suggests distributed, non-centralized programming rather than centralized biology.
• Entanglement: Early data indicates faint linkages between separate samples — destruction of one may subtly affect others at range.

5. Theoretical Implications
Grimm are not evolved lifeforms but constructs of this exotic Umbrite, given shape and purpose by negative emotion. The substance originates from an unknown ancient source — possibly a primordial cataclysm or undiscovered natural phenomenon — that allows it to manifest and persist in our world. It behaves as "anti-order" matter: coherent only while feeding on negativity, dissolving back into inert particles otherwise.

This aligns with historical observations from the Great War era and older anomalous records. Coordinated Aura techniques have historically proven more effective against them, likely by reinforcing life force and order against this entropic essence.

6. Practical Applications & Risks

• Weaponization Potential: Severing the emotional "coherence link" could cause instantaneous dissolution. Opportunities exist for specialized Dust munitions, Semblance amplifiers, or wide-area disruption fields but are theoretical at best at this stage.
• Medical Insight: Trace Umbrite in wounds explains persistent corruption and Aura drain in those injured by Grimm. Advanced purification techniques show promise for improved treatment protocols.
• Risks: The material retains structural "memory." Mishandling could allow reformation if sufficient negative energy or consumable mass is available. Containment failure poses existential danger. All further study must maintain the highest security protocols.

Personal Addendum – Dr. Abraham List
"This isn't biology. It's something older and fundamentally hostile to life as we understand it. The way it twists and reforms under the microscope… it's as if the substance itself is learning how to hate more efficiently.

We've only scratched the surface. If we can crack the coherence mechanism, we might finally give Huntsmen a genuine edge beyond simple survival. Until then, extreme caution. This stuff doesn't just kill people. It erodes hope."

Note: Just toying with a scientific viewpoint of the Grimm.

 

[AJ_Talon]

Knightshade: Beach Diplomacy

The gentle waves of Menagerie's eastern coast lapped at the white sand as the Prydwen—a sleek private yacht the crew had quietly "liberated" from an old Albion naval surplus auction—bobbed at anchor. Arturia Pendragon-Arc, the Last (former) Queen of Albion and the deceased Vytal Empire, sat under a wide beach umbrella in a soft blue sundress and white shawl, her silver-streaked golden braid catching the sunlight. At her side, Shirou Arc, her husband, tended a portable grill with the focused intensity of a man who had faced down entire armies.

This was food, after all.

"Another burger, my darling?" Shirou asked, flipping a perfectly seasoned patty. Even in his hundred tens, his tall, lean frame moved with that same quiet precision that had once shielded her flanks during the Great War.

Arturia's emerald-blue eyes softened. "Only if you join me, dear. You've been fussing over that grill like it's a battlefield."

Before Shirou could retort, the treeline erupted.

A dozen White Fang militants burst onto the beach—masks on, weapons raised, shouting. Arturia frowned.

"Whatever are they on about, Shirou?"

"Something about 'filthy human invaders," Shirou said. He sighed.

"We really should have picked a more private cove."

Arturia stood gracefully, brushing sand from her dress. "A bit of exercise after that long sail will do us good."

Dragon Heart flared around her in a subtle golden-red aura as she drew her sword. The air itself seemed to bow. The nearest Fang soldier lunged with a Dust blade—only for Arturia to step inside his reach, disarm him with a casual twist, and send him tumbling into his comrades with a palm strike that hit hard enough to stop a moving truck.

Shirou didn't even draw Kanshou and Bakuya. Unlimited Blade Works shimmered faintly at his fingertips. A storm of projected kitchen knives—dulled for non-lethality—pinned weapons to the sand and tangled limbs in precise, almost lazy arcs. One particularly enthusiastic cat Faunus tried to flank him; Shirou simply manifested a reinforced spatula and bonked him on the head, knocking him out.

The skirmish lasted less than two minutes. The attackers lay groaning in the sand, thoroughly disarmed and demoralized. Arturia dusted her hands.

"There. Now where were we?"

A pair of figures emerged from the treeline—Ghira Belladonna, tall and imposing, and Kali Belladonna, elegant and watchful. Both wore expressions of deep apology mixed with wary respect. Their armored guard hung back, worried, weapons ready but not pointed at the humans.

Ghira raised his hands. "I am so sorry for this. Some of our more… radical youth have taken recent tensions too far. We'll handle them. You have my word."

Kali bowed slightly. "Please, allow us to make amends. We didn't realize anyone of your… stature was visiting."

Arturia smiled warmly, the regal poise melting into grandmotherly kindness. "Oh, no problem at all! These lads and lasses gave us a bit of a workout, but nothing more. Shirou's burgers are far more dangerous to my waistline."

Shirou chuckled and offered the Belladonnas a plate. "Care for one? Secret family recipe. Well, one of many."

The tension broke. Soon the four were seated under the umbrella, sharing food and stories as the sun warmed the sand. Conversation turned naturally to family.

"I have a daughter who is seventeen now," Kali said softly, a touch of melancholy in her voice. "I haven't seen her in quite a while. She's… finding her own path."

Arturia's eyes lit up with that familiar matchmaker gleam—the same one that had once helped negotiate treaties. "Really? Is she pretty?"

Ghira puffed up proudly. "Very!"

"Lovely!" Arturia clasped her hands. "Does she like books?"

Kali smiled. "Loves them."

Arturia leaned forward. "May I see a picture?"

Kali obliged, pulling out her Scroll. The image showed a young Blake Belladonna—black hair with cat ears, amber eyes sharp and thoughtful, a book tucked under one arm.

"Oh!" Arturia's voice rose with delight. "Wonderful! Shirou! I think we've found a fiancée for Jaune back home!"

Shirou nearly choked on his burger. "He's still dating Katy, darling!"

Arturia waved a hand dismissively. "No, they broke up when he ran off to Beacon! You know that. Young love, dramatic exits, the usual nonsense."

Shirou rubbed his temple, but his amber eyes twinkled with fond exasperation. "Even so… how exactly are we going to engage them? We don't know where she is."

"Don't worry about that!" Arturia declared, already mentally drafting letters. "We'll find them. The Arc family has its ways. And if she loves books and has that spark in her eyes… perfect for our boy. He needs someone who can keep up with him—and challenge that thick skull of his."

Ghira and Kali exchanged amused, slightly bewildered glances. The former queen's enthusiasm was infectious, if overwhelming.

- - -

Beacon Academy, That Day

In the cafeteria, Jaune Arc suddenly sneezed violently, nearly dropping his tray.

"Bless you," Pyrrha said, concerned.

Blake Belladonna, seated a few tables away with her team, felt an identical tickle in her nose and sneezed into her book.

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Allergies?"

Blake rubbed her nose, an odd sense of impending doom settling over her.

"Not that I'm aware of..."