[RWBY] The Great Temporal Step-Sibling War!

[bazerkerking]

"I am aware," Arslan said, voice even but dry.

"Don't take it personally."

Arslan folded her arms, watching as Petra waved one tiny hand against Jaune's shirt and cooed. The corner of her mouth twitched downward in the closest thing to a pout her composed features ever allowed.

"I shall try not to."

Jaune chuckled and leaned in, kissing her cheek.

"Don't pout."

"Stonebreakers do not pout."

"Sure, sure..."

"Hmph."

Click to shrink...

Yeah... yeah it do be like that some times. Babies are fickle and want what they want

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The laboratory was a converted sub-basement under Evernight Castle, the kind of place that still smelled faintly of rotten wood and Grimmfilth even after the ventilation had been upgraded. Banks of stolen Atlas equipment hummed along the walls. Holographic displays floated in the air, casting cold blue light across Arthur Watts's sharp features as he scrolled through another failed simulation.

He had not bothered to remove his coat. He rarely did when the work refused to cooperate.

Dr. Merlot leaned against a nearby console, arms crossed, watching with the mild interest of a man who had seen far worse tempers than this one. The biologist's coat was open, his usual easy posture at odds with the tension radiating off the other man.

Watts's lip curled.

"Ugh… That wretched Atlasian lapdog… Sucking up to Salem and playing at the loyal sycophant…"

Merlot's eyebrows rose. "Interesting insult, given your heritage."

Watts shot him a flat look but did not rise to the bait. His fingers flicked across the interface, dismissing another model that collapsed into cascading error messages.

"Not only do I have to compete with Cinder, I now must contend with more fools seeking Queen Salem's favor?"

Merlot pushed off the console and strolled closer, hands in his pockets. "Come now, Arthur. There's no need for this. You are the key part of our plans, after all. Cinder and Iri are just delivery girls. You are the mastermind."

Watts's jaw tightened. "Yet magic is the one thing I cannot crack. And that is what that empty-headed brat can use—" He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Iri?"

"Well," Merlot said mildly, "the young lady made a nice impression on me."

Watts turned fully this time, eyes narrowed. "You realize she's a homicidal maniac who would murder you given half a chance."

Merlot's smile was small and entirely unbothered. "True. But she asked me to use her nickname nicely. So I have."

Watts made a sound of pure disgust and returned to the holoscreen. "I suppose she's slightly more tolerable than Cinder and her little pack of minions… Or Tyrian and his lust for our Queen..."

"He's a young man and she's his fetish," Merlot observed, "Best not to think too long and hard about it."

"Pfft. At least he's more tolerable than Hazel. Such a sad sack brute, lamenting his lost sister and blaming Ozpin," Watts rolled his eyes.

"He does wear thin at times, I will admit," Merlot added. "As for the rest of our little band, I've yet to meet them all."

"That is by design," Watts sniffed, "We must maintain some kind of compartmentalization... Hmph."

He stared at the cascading data streams in silence for several seconds.

Merlot waited. Then, almost gently: "So?"

"I'm still working on this. It would be nice if you helped, you know."

"Don't look at me. My domain is biology, chemistry, and cybernetics. You're the polymath."

Watts's fingers stilled. The simulation froze on a complex lattice of interlocking timelines, each one marked with glowing nodes that refused to stabilize.

"The capacity for time travel in a Semblance has always been possible," he said slowly, "but the model would need to be a closed-loop system to avoid paradoxes. Yet the situation as described by Queen Salem is the definition of a paradox. All of spacetime should have turned into a singularity."

Merlot tilted his head. "But clearly, it hasn't."

"No. It hasn't." Watts's voice dropped, almost thoughtful. "That is the tricky part…"

He flicked through another layer of security logs and scowled. "It doesn't help that these brats have locked me out of the more sensitive parts of the CCT. They found the virus."

Merlot's expression finally sharpened. "That's not good."

Watts's reply was pure venom. "Thanks for that. However could I have gotten along without you, Viktor?"

"No need to snipe at me, Arthur… More than usual."

Watts ignored the jab and pulled up a different set of files—academic papers, theoretical models, old conference abstracts. His eyes narrowed further.

"Ugh… It doesn't help we're up against Doctor Weena Nebogipfel, the single greatest mind in physics since Fig Newton himself."

Merlot blinked. "Don't you mean Einholz?"

"His genius was incredible," Watts said dismissively, "but Nebogipfel has the potential to totally redefine our understanding of physics. Hmmm…"

He zoomed in on one particular cluster of data, the lines of the various timelines tightening around a single bright point.

"I can only conclude, based on the description and my reading of her works, that we exist in a kind of… superposition. Twelve enmeshed timelines, all held together by a number of critical factors, as the timelines try to correct themselves due to being caught. Not unlike twelve zippers all caught together..."

Merlot's voice was quieter now. "One of them being this Jaune Arc?"

"Yes." Watts's gaze remained fixed on the glowing node. "Which means there's something going on with him in particular."

"What about the time-traveling boy?"

"He is also a critical factor. But his removal would not threaten the entire structure of the universe as we know it… Arc's removal would." Watts tapped the interface, isolating the relevant data streams. "He is temporally displaced… but his existence is likely tied to Arc's, given he is native to this timeline and the key factor in the paradox."

Merlot waited.

"Having them both would be preferred," Watts continued. "But only eliminating one is a big enough threat to ensure compliance."

Merlot's usual lightness finally faded. "You do realize his elimination might collapse all of spacetime around our ears, yes?"

Watts turned his head just enough to meet the other man's eyes. A thin, cold smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"Yes… But to live is to risk. Besides…" He gestured at the unstable lattice of timelines rotating slowly in the air between them. "You can't tell me you're not the least bit curious about this incredible scientific opportunity."

Merlot was silent for a long moment. Then he exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a laugh.

"…I am. But I'm also not keen on mutually assured destruction as a plan."

Watts's smile widened a fraction, sharp and humorless.

"Then I suggest you start thinking of a better one, Doctor. Because the clock is already ticking. Our Queen wants to unravel this puzzle, as it may finally give us our victory..." He grinned, the light of the holograms reflected in his eyes.

"A victory for all time..."

 

[digcat]

You know i can't help but wonder. In the Pyrrha timeline did Pyrrha and Jaune bring Weiss to bed. If so did they both ruin her for anyone else.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Atlas, Solitas

One year, three months after Vytal Festival

---

Jacques Schnee paced the length of his study like a caged animal, one hand gripping a sleek pistol, the other repeatedly checking his Scroll for word on the escape airship. Outside the heavy doors, the sounds of combat echoed through the mansion—gunfire, shouted orders, the clash of weapons. RWBY and JNOR were tearing through his security with ruthless efficiency.

Weiss sat rigid in a high-backed chair near the desk, the cold metal of an Aura Suppression Collar locked around her neck. Her hands were bound, but her eyes burned with pure, undiluted hatred as she tracked her father's every step.

"I did everything for you," she said, voice low and cutting. "And you only ever saw me as a tool."

Jacques didn't stop pacing. "A disobedient tool, to be sure. But you'll learn. So help me, you will."

Weiss's jaw tightened. "…I loved you once. Did you ever love me? Or was it all just nonsense?"

He finally turned, expression cold. "Love doesn't build an empire!"

"And if you'd loved me," Weiss shot back, "Maybe you could have had it without destroying us! Destroying everything!"

Jacques, enraged, pulled back his hand.

"Now listen you-!"

The study doors exploded inward.

Jaune Arc stood in the doorway, Crocea Mors drawn, shield already raised. Dust and plaster drifted down around him. His blue eyes locked on Jacques, then flicked briefly to Weiss before hardening again.

"Weiss!"

"Jaune!" she breathed, relief and fear colliding in her voice.

Jacques swung the pistol toward the intruder.

"You really want a fight, Jacques?" Jaune asked, stepping fully into the room.

"I'm more formidable than I appear, boy," Jacques sneered. "You're trespassing. The law is on my side. Surrender, or you'll be cut down the moment my guards arrive."

Jaune's grip on his sword tightened. "Then I suppose I have to fight you."

Jacques gave a disdainful laugh. "What, to the death? Typical of a barbarian—"

"No," Jaune said, voice suddenly calm and precise. "To the pain."

Jacques blinked. "I… I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase."

Jaune took another step forward, eyes never leaving him. "I'll explain. And I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon."

"You dare insult me—?!"

"It won't be the last," Jaune continued, voice dropping into something colder. "'To the pain' means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next, your nose."

Jacques forced a thin smile. "And then my tongue, I suppose."

"I wasn't finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye, followed by your right."

"And then my ears, I understand. Let's get on with it."

"Wrong." Jaune's voice was pure steel now. "Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, 'Dear God, what is that thing?' will echo in your perfect ears. That is what 'to the pain' means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever. All the riches in the world won't mean a damn thing when you're a hideous, misshapen monster—an object of pity and horror."

Jacques's face had gone pale. "…Y-You're bluffing."

Jaune's next words came out in a deadly whisper. "My mother is the finest surgeon in Remnant. She taught me how to ensure you will live through anything… no matter how much you want to die. So tell me… which of us is bluffing?"

He raised Crocea Mors slightly. "Drop the gun."

Jacques's hand trembled. For a long moment the only sound in the study was the distant chaos of the ongoing fight. Then, with a strangled noise, he threw the pistol to the floor and raised both hands.

Jaune moved carefully around the desk, never fully turning his back, and reached Weiss. With a sharp twist he tore the Aura Suppression Collar free. The metal clattered to the floor. Weiss rose immediately, yanking her hands free of her bonds, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"…Did you really quote The Royal Bride?" she murmured.

Jaune's expression softened just a fraction. "First movie we watched together. Of course I did."

Weiss let out a quiet, loving sigh. "You're a dolt."

He smiled. "Your dolt."

From the other side of the desk, Jacques made a disgusted noise. "Oh, for pity's sake…"

Weiss turned her head just enough to fix her father with a look of pure contempt. "Consider yourself lucky we're not conceiving our first child on your desk right now, bastard."

Jaune flushed.

"Weiss!"

"I may still do it!"

 

[digcat]

She decided to keep her word.