You go through the list of names you've come up with over the past five minutes and eventually settle on...
"Cloudbank Solutions." You say, pointing at the name on the list as if that helps make your choice more obvious to Blue.
You're... doing
great today.
{Why that one in particular?}
"Sounds pretty professional, the Process is already a cloud storage-based entity by default, it's definitely a solution- it just fits, I guess."
{... Yeah, fair enough.}
What's the company going to be based in?
Ah.
Yeah, that's a pretty important question. Um.
{You won't just be pigeonholed into doing one thing forever, you know. Businesses regularly diversify, but you gotta start somewhere.}
Namely, we need a concrete answer so we can pick a primary SIC number.
You think over the things you'd previously thought about doing with the Process- real estate, personal assistants, art projects...
Art projects are out, you have no idea how you could keep making a consistent profit with that, and frankly, you have the same talents for avant-garde art as a half-dead salmon.
Selling Cells as basically cuter Scrolls would be good, but you don't really know if you could get that far- since you're
vehemently against planned obsolescence on principle alone, you're not exactly going to get repeat customers.
Not to mention you'd have to sell them for close to dirt-cheap since you wouldn't have the same brand clout as, say, the SDC.
You have the sinking feeling that's not the last time they're going to come up in regards to your new company.
{People
do shell out the purple Lien for that little engraved snowflake.}
They do.
Personally, you've rooted every Scroll you've owned then modded it until it only barely resembles it's out of the box state, so you honestly couldn't give a toss one way or the other. Though SDC Scrolls do tend to make up for a lack of technical beef with some honestly quite impressive OS streamlining-
You're distracting yourself so you don't have to make big decisions.
Real estate- big investment, decent profit,
sustainable profit, most importantly- you'd... how would that even work?
{Buy property, lease it out to people to run businesses, or set up your own. It's not like the Process wouldn't make building a snap.}
True...
But you don't exactly have the money to buy your own property. Nor, will you ever have that kind of money while at Beacon. Huntsman training and freelance programming don't exactly sound like a happy marriage in the making.
{Technically, you'd be signed up under
construction of real estate for commercial purposes. So, you know, a building contractor.}
How glamorous.
Still, you suppose that's a sight better than your business dying an early death because you didn't have the money to buy real estate.
{Exactly! So, is that what you're going with?}
Real estate does sound like your best option right now.
Company registered, SIC number 41201- construction of commercial buildings. You are currently the sole director and shareholder, but that can be changed if need be. Congratulations, Jaune, you're a business owner now.
You can't help but smile a little at the thought.
Jaune Arc, director of Cloudbank Solutions, PLC.
… Wait, does PLC stand for
private limited company or
public limited company?
{Public. Private ones don't get an acronym. I mean, aside from ltd.}
Tch.
Ah well, it's whatever-
{Oh, hey, Weiss is coming your way.}
Weiss is WHAT-
Before panic can fully set in, you see Weiss walking towards you. Wearing a pale blue nightgown, no heels, sleeping bag rolled up under her arm and her hair down, bringing it almost halfway down her thighs now, the girl looks significantly… less intimidating than you remember her.
Beeping away at her heels, you see 16,
new designation- Snowflake, keeping an eye out for… something, and you finally notice more than occasional glance over her shoulder and the way she worries at her lip.
Your panic subsides, quickly subdued by concern.
"Weiss? What's wrong?"
She finally notices you, and, after a double-take, realises it
is you.
"Oh thank God you've got your sword- listen, there's this girl around here, uh, long black hair and bow, yellowish eyes, she's given me the death glare every time I've seen her, at first I thought it might have just been a bad attitude but I
swear she's following me."
Blue?
{Only a few people looking your way, mainly because they've recognised Weiss, but nobody that fits that description. We did see someone like that earlier though- think she's somewhere in the northwest, reading Jonquil and Hide- ooh, looks like Ruby got her, poor bastard. You still want us to run her through VPD?}
You look over at Weiss's worried face and silently tell them to do it.
If it turns up nothing, you'll apologise for whatever dirty laundry you air out later.
"Well whoever she is, she's gotten bored of her game, because she's currently reading on the other side of the hall and being annoyed by Ruby." You tell the heiress.
"Ruby?" She asks, once her relief over not being given the stinkeye by some random girl subsides long enough to recognise the use of a proper noun.
"Er, someone I met today. Tiny girl, only fifteen, carries a huge scythe, and about as overstimulating as a stun grenade."
Weiss snorts a little.
"She sounds like a handful," she tells you, before frowning slightly. "Wait, fifteen? How'd someone that young get into Beacon?"
"It's rare, but it happens. Apparently, she helped stop a Dust robbery, ran into Professor Goodwitch while she did it, met Ozpin, and now she's here."
She blinks at you, genuine disbelief in her eyes.
"And… you believe that."
You throw out a projection of a news article involving an interview with the owner of the From Dust 'till Dawn that was robbed, highlighting the part that mentioned a tiny, red-hooded girl. Weiss, to her credit, ignores the blatant use of holographic tech-magic and reads through the article in record time.
"... Hm. I won't argue with firsthand accounts, but link me that article later, I'll read through it my… my-"
Before she can finish speaking, she yawns, her jaw almost opening wider than she can cover with her hand.
"Ah… I apologise, it's been… a tiring day. Erm, would you mind if I…"
You can almost see her brain work its way through the list of ways to phrase her question to find one that can't be misconstrued.
"... Set down here? I-I'd just, feel safer, sleeping nearby."
If you were anyone else, and not fully cognizant of what had happened the other night, you might have poked some fun with that. However, unfortunately, you are you, and thus a coward about teasing.
"Sure, it's a free hall. Better you than Naia, or Leathers."
When she gives you a questioning look, you point out Leathers on the other side of the hall, snoring away.
He appears to be using a slender guy with black hair and a single pink highlight as a teddy bear. The teddy bear in question minds very much but also appears to be too scared to do anything about it. Some ginger girl takes one look at this, and one scream of what you believe was 'cuddle-pile' later, pins the poor sod to the ground by his legs, removing his final avenue of escape.
Poor bastard. You'll have a Creep help him later if Leathers starts throttling him in his sleep.
"... Better him than us. I'll, admit, I'm a little uncomfortable, being in just my nightwear around… so many people." Weiss tells you as she sets her sleeping bag down and sits on it.
"Look on the bright side- after this, four people'll seem like a cinch."
Weiss blinks, considering your words.
"... I… wonder if that might actually
be the purpose behind this…"
Weiss trails off, staring at you for a moment.
"... Jaune." She says after a few seconds of stunned silence.
"Yeah?"
"What… in
God's name are you wearing?"
You level a judgemental finger at her in your Mr Flopsy All-in-One Bedtime Suit, and consciously revel in the softness of it, which almost breaks the look of perfect seriousness you're giving Weiss.
"Hey. Don't knock the bunny onesie."
|||
... You're worried.
{Of course I'm worried, Jaune's new headmaster is the metaphysical equivalent of a thesis paper going through a glitchy printer. How the hell am I supposed to not worry about that?}
Well, what can we do about it? The man's the highest Huntsman authority in Vale, and probably not much lower in the other Kingdoms. We can't exactly do anything to him without killing Jaune's ability to stay at Beacon.
{Agh! I know that! God! I'm just- I NEED TO KNOW! Until I know, until I know what he is, I can't trust he isn't some, some soul-eating monstrosity that preys on small children!}
You're having a paranoid fit. Calm down.
... Look, I'm curious too, but we need to be careful about this. If we're not careful, we could seriously hurt him, or ourselves, and mess Jaune's chances at Beacon up no matter what happens.
{... Ok. Ok, ok, I'm fine. I'm good. What are you thinking?}
He noticed when we were scanning him during his speech. You saw his face, right?
{Yeah. What, you think he can feel his soul being poked and prodded at?}
There's a lot we don't know here. He very well might, and as terrifying as that is, I think we can make it work. All we have to do is draw attention to ourselves and figure out a way to get a message to him. Preferably in the same stroke.
{... Set up a program to tap his soul in a pattern. Morse code?}
Can't think of anything else that would work, but this is... uncharted territory. We don't even know how he perceives it- Morse code might just come through as gibberish for him. For all we know, we were jackhammering his soul for all it was worth yesterday.
{We have to try. I have to try. Just to be sure it wasn't a fluke.}
... Alright. He'll probably be around for the initiation. We can try it then.
|||
The next morning is fairly relaxed, all things told. You get up, work out some of the kinks in your muscles, get showered, get breakfast, and then get ready for Initiation.
Initiation.
God, just
thinking the word makes your heart flutter a little. You're going into the Emerald Forest, finding something important, then... somehow getting your team out of that.
You are broken from your reverie by someone shifting up onto the prep table next to you. You weren't, actually really using it for anything, you were just, daydreaming, but that doesn't seem to stop Leathers as he drops a
metric ton of oily scrap and electronics onto the table.
He glances over and gives a noncommittal grunt of greeting.
"H-hey, Leathers. You excited for today?" You ask, entirely unsure what force has possessed you to try and strike up a conversation with him.
He looks up for a second, the hamster in his brain working overtime to try and remember what happens today, before panic sets in on his rather impressive brow. Leaning towards you, he speaks in an almost conspiratorial voice.
"'s not another bloody writin' test, izzit?"
Uh…
Even with some prior knowledge of what's going to happen, the old fear of forgetting a test rears its ugly head and your eyes flick to your sword for comfort.
{There will be a no-calculator test, you're also naked and your teeth and hair are falling out.}
Har de har har.
"No, there's no writing test. We're going into the Emerald Forest, I think."
"Wot, the place that's about 300 feet below us?"
"Yeah, that's the place. My sister said when she came here, they liked launch plates as an entry strategy."
He gently nods, his head obviously miles away as he mumbles something to himself, before throwing himself into his work, tinkering away at the pile of scrap. For a moment, you see the spark of something in those eyes, and you find yourself contemplating what monstrosities he would make from a bunch of Process matter, given some practice forming it.
…
Heurheurheurheurheurgh.
{Yes, let's not give the boy who can make raw Dust ore explode the end of the tech curve's Play-Doh. That sounds like a terrible idea.}
At least until the Process has learned that exploding isn't the best option for everything.
We are already aware of that, sysadmin. We enjoy being unexploded.
Good, keep it that way.
Agh, you've put this off long enough.
You get up and set off to your designated locker, pulling out the case you placed your armour and gauntlet in and taking it over to an unoccupied workbench.
Plain, unadorned metal greets you when you pull the armour out.
{Oh, yeah, you wanted me to engrave it, didn't you? Any ideas?}
Just the usual.
{Gotcha.}
The Arc Crescent was all well and good when you started out, as it usually is, but nobody uses a plain Jane family emblem. That's why most of them are simple by design- it makes them so much easier to put your own spin on.
You didn't really deviate all that much from the base template, technically.
After all, a circle is just a full arc.
You watch as metal is vaporised in front of you, leaving behind thin ribbons of shining steel in tight, thin loops around the centre of the chest, like grooves in a record. The Transistor's eye, formed in steel.
Of course, it's nothing as simple as that- when you can engrave on the micron scale, you might as well have some fun with it.
In every loop, a line of code. Tens of thousands of loops, circling and intersecting with each other, but never actually overlapping into illegibility.
A copy of the Transistor's energy-creation program, the very core of its being, copied into a physical medium for everyone to see. Part of it is pride, part of it is making sure that there's
something useful of the Transistor left behind, should something happen to you.
But it just happens to look damn cool and it's not like the symbol itself doesn't follow you around anyway.
{It's done. Careful, it's warm.}
You look down at the gentle red glow in the centre of your chestplate, and call that an understatement. Once it dulls, you gently tap it with your fingers, and once it's cooled off enough, pull it on, letting the gentle warmth spread through your chest.
It's like putting on a shirt fresh out the dryer, but, you know,
insane.
{You ready?}
You eye the small bag of medical supplies.
… They're not doing anyone any good in there-
Medicine Bag, Bleedstop, Antitoxin Kit acquired.
With the bag on your hip, new weapon and armour on your arm and chest, you feel more than ready, honestly, and then Pyrrha Nikos gently bumps into you, apologises, goes on her way, and the last ten minutes of mental preparation simply choose not to exist anymore.
Before you can do anything, or even think of doing anything, or even process who you just saw, your sword moves at frankly
irresponsible speeds to get behind you and physically usher you out of the door.
{No,
no, keep walking, do not approach her with that fanboy look in your eyes, do not talk to her, do not turn to look at her, do not
think about her, just keep moving 01 WHAT ARE YOU
DOING-}
A strong magnetic force is pulling us! We have no control over our movements!
Turning to look at what the hell is happening, you watch a panicking Cell slowly lift into the air against its best efforts, and slowly float over to Pyrrha, before its antigrav finally gives out and it snaps to her bronze armour with a tiny-
-plink!-
You freeze. She freezes. Your sword freezes. 01 has no choice except freezing.
{... Ok. Not interacting with her is out of the question.
Can you keep it together?}
Blue, you spent half an hour next to Weiss Schnee silently fixing her laptop without freaking out. You
think you'll manage.
{... You know what yeah fine that's good enough for me-}
You walk towards her, trying your best to look casual and like you're not approaching a 4-time tournament champion and
oh God you're approaching 4-time tournament champion Pyrrha Nikos-
"I-I'm sorry!" She says, a
genuinely plaintive sound to her voice, and for some reason that calms you down immensely. "Um… I don't, know why it's attached to me."
"Inherent electromagnetic force polarising Cell structure by aligning electrons. Warning- EM interference detected in components, active hazard to this unit's higher cognition. Will attempt to mitigate effects."
She stares at the Cell with the same bug-eyed surprise as everyone else who's seen one speak for the first time.
"Um…"
"You've magnetised it. Um, sorry, I'm, Jaune."
Don't stick your hand out don't stick your hand out don't stick your hand out-
"Oh, um, I'm Pyrrha. Do you… I'm sorry, but… what
is this thing?" She asks, gesturing to the Cell currently shimmering at her waist. "And, what is it doing?"
You don't miss the thread of concern in her voice. You agree with that concern because you have no idea what 01's doing either.
"Ce-cell is… cy-shycling through, uh… known, material library to find non-magnetic material for… shyntheshish… ah, the, the michigashun ish failing..."
Pyrrha blinks, then looks to you for a plain Valish answer.
You… never realised how
green her eyes were
focus.
"It can mimic the molecular structure of other materials- er, 01, try a cubic carbon arrangement." You explain, before realising there's a solution to the situation that doesn't involve you possibly ripping 01 in half trying to brute-force it and Pyrrha's armour apart.
You're not quite as knowledgeable on material sciences as you are computers, but you figure if there are no free-floating electrons in the Cell's atomic structure...
Your Cell beeps drunkenly at you, and a few seconds later pops off with little fanfare, haphazardly trying to float back to you, and getting about halfway there before nosediving with a little
'wwwwwweeeeeeeeee-' and faceplanting with a tiny -
tink-.
You wince ever so slightly when it crumples in on itself, before realising that the tiny robot's new structure is more akin to tissue paper than, diamond, like you were hoping for.
{Poor thing. Must've just heard 'carbon' and gone with something vaguely related. We'll fix him up once he's recovered from his magnet high, don't worry.}
Wait, actually, how the hell did
any of this happen to begin with-
Her Semblance is polarity, Jaune. She's a walking EM field. Must be nervous, if she's able to do this much to a Cell, even considering the default steel lattice arrangement- I'm surprised she hasn't wiped her Scroll's memory already.
… Huh.
Wait, how do you know that she-
For legal reasons, there was supposed to be an 'if' in that statement.
"Oh dear, is it ok?" Pyrrha asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. She's currently hovering nearby, unsure if she should approach it or not.
"I-it should be fine in a few seconds, it's never had to actively compensate for the effect of a strong magnetic field on its electrical components, so this is, a learning experience for it."
You're technobabbling again-
"Oh, I see- like holding a magnet up to a Scroll?"
"Exactly! Well, old Scrolls- most new ones already have magnets in some shape or form, mainly for wireless charging and internal compasses, but for the most part they've moved into using diamagnetic components in the basic body and essential electrical components and I'm babbling again, sorry-" You launch into an explanation, enthusiasm wriggling out of the arms of rational thought like a buttered piglet, and setting off your mental peanut gallery, the imaginary one, not the technological one, screaming at you to stop.
By the time rational thought has trapped your enthusiasm again, you're pretty sure your face is
scarlet with embarrassment.
"O-oh, no, it's fine!" Pyrrha says, scrambling to placate you. "I love listening to people discuss the things they're passionate about. Even if... I don't, entirely understand it."
She gives you an awkward smile, and you realise you may have finally found someone as bad at talking to new people than you.
And it's Pyrrha fucking Nikos.
"... Ah, I should- get ready. It was nice talking to you, and I hope your, er, robot, recovers." You just about hear her say over the sound of the pedestal you put her on five years ago crumbling and dropping her down a few levels.
Before the two of you can further murder any illusion of social skills you might have had before, the announcement system squeaks into life, and Professor Goodwitch comes down from the heavens to grant you both an out from this conversation.
"Would all first-year students please report to Beacon Cliff for initiation? Again, all first-year students report to Beacon Cliff immediately."
Oh bless that glorious angel of a woman-
"Y-yeah. I-I'll- good luck with Initiation."
"Good luck to you too, Jaune!"
With that, you both stand there for just a little too long, before turning and walking away from each other.
Stupid stupid stupid-
{Well, that went well.}
You use about half of your available brainpower to scan Blue's words for even an
iota of sarcasm, the other half split between figuring out what you're going to do to him if there
is any there and basic routing so you don't slam into a wall on the way out of the locker room.
Finding none, you give a wordless, questioning groan at him.
{Jaune, let me ask you a very fair question-
who did you just talk to?}
"Pyrrha Nikos. Badly." You moan at the reminder of your most recent fuckup.
{Mmhm. Tell me- how do you think you treated her?}
You blink, the question throwing you for enough of a loop to not just answer in the whiniest way possible.
"... Like... a normal, human being?" You venture.
{Mhm, and do you think that's something she's
used to? Or do you think she's more used to people putting her on a pedestal, pulling the old hero worship routine, and generally
refusing to treat her like a normal human being?}
... You...
But...
That...
... Huh.
Huh.
{Yeah. You did good, buddy. For what it's worth, she seems about as clueless as you are about how to casually interact with people, so, you know, misery loves company and all that.}
you're not alone in your suffering yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-
|||
The path up to Beacon Cliff is laborious, a narrow, winding pathway that's just worn away enough at the sides that you feel like you might slip off the side at any moment, a feeling exacerbated by the fact that it's not wide enough for anything but single file. So almost as if on cue, Lumen nearly gives you a heart attack by dancing on the very edge of the path, slipping past you by spinning on the balls of his feet and now walking backwards to face you while he talks.
"Hey, you know who I ran into in the locker room?"
"A small goblin that stole your sense of self-preservation?"
"Very close- fucking
Mel."
You blink, your concern for your friend's tenuous survival instincts evaporating in an instant.
Mel Saff was... a handful, to say the least of the last time you interacted with him. Still, you did kind of wonder what happened to the buck Faunus after the Signal exam.
"How'd that go? Is he still as caustic as we remember?"
"No, that's the creepy thing- dude's
chilled the hell out. Turns out Professor Moss basically held his transcript hostage and marched him into a therapist's office, and apparently, that's exactly what he needed. He
apologised to me for all the shit he said before the exam, told me to pass on the same to you and the girls- I thought I was having some kind of waking fever dream or something, it was that surreal."
Huh.
{Well, good for him.}
... Yeah. You, honestly don't know what to say to that besides being happy he's getting the help he needs.
The rest of the trip up is uneventful, aside from some general chitchat about how exactly partners are going to be chosen, before, eventually, you make it to the edge of the cliff.
True to Jools' word, there is a line of launchpads that stretches into the distance, lining the edge of the cliff in a gentle curve that quickly disappears from view. Professor Goodwitch is there, asking names and giving numbers for the launchpads. When you approach, her eyes flick over you both, glancing at you over those tiny glasses of hers.
"Names?"
"Jaune Arc."
"Lumen Tessaro."
"Mr Arc, pad 32, Mr Tessaro, pad 29."
You thank her, and move on your way, happy to finally get off the narrow path-
"Mr Arc, a moment please." Professor Goodwitch grabs your attention, and you turn to see what's wrong. "In case you haven't gathered, the start of the Initiation involves a sudden and extreme vertical ascent. Will your weapon be able to keep up?"
{HA.
HA.}
Hush, it's a valid enough question.
"Oh, easily. On the off-chance it can't, it shouldn't have a problem finding me anyway."
She gives you a level look, glancing at the Transistor before giving a silent nod, your confidence enough for her. You take the silent approval as your cue to leave, and she turns to give the next group of people their launchpad numbers.
31 launchpads and 25 anxious students away from Professor Goodwitch, you find your launchpad.
There are many like it, but this one is yours.
Gingerly…
gingerly stepping onto it, you sigh in relief when it doesn't immediately spring out and launch you into the Emerald Forest.
You never know with these kinda things.
As you stand there, you watch other students-to-be go by, a ball of anxiety begins to surface in your chest, as you realise you
don't understand how this works.
You get the gist, of course- students go in, Grimm get killed, teams get picked, happy day for everyone except the Grimm, but there aren't any happy days for Grimm so fuck 'em.
That's the broad strokes.
Details are sparse.
How, are teams picked?
How, do you pass Initiation?
These are questions without easy answers you'd really quite like the answers to!
{Apparently they change it up every year. Sometimes you kill a really big Grimm somewhere in the forest, other times you pick up something, other times you protect some
one- they like to keep people on their toes, it seems.}
Joy.
Eventually, the pads on either side are filled, your left with Ruby, who gives you a happy little greeting followed by a little squeak of either awe or horror as Leathers takes up residence in the pad to your right, carrying a pile of scrap he bullied into the shape of a jetpack on his back.
It's made mostly out of metal, which is a good start for one of your old classmate's freestyle projects, and appears to be a triple engine affair- three large cylinders are stacked on the boy's back, held together with spot-welds and what you
sincerely hope isn't duct tape, apparently set off by a cord-pull and controlled by two handles- not joysticks or controllers, no,
handles- on either side of the boy's waist.
And, for entirely foreign reasons to you, the whole personal insult to basic weapon mechanics teachers everywhere is painted in an almost
offensively vivid red.
"Wh- but- I- how does that
work!?" The girl squawks, apparently offended by the boy's most recent project.
"Dunno. Works, though. Tested it 'n' all."
Knowing Leathers, 'testing' involved setting it off and then wrestling it to the ground and slapping whatever rudimentary safety system he'd installed.
"Bu-but there's no heat vents! I don't see any kind of fuel intake, those handles aren't anywhere
near long enough to actually give you control over its flight path
, it's just going to send you God knows where if it doesn't just
blow up on you!"
Leathers gives the tiny girl a wild, toothy grin, and you spot that familiar manic fire in his eyes that almost has you stepping away in case you need to run for cover.
"Not knowin's the fun bit, love."
With that, he turns out towards the cliff edge, falling into silent thought.
You turn to Ruby, who is now pleading at you with her eyes for any kind of explanation that makes sense.
"He'll… be fine. These things usually work out for him."
She gives you a concerned look but chooses not to press the subject any further.
You suddenly hear people start to quieten down to your right, and turn to see Professor (Headmaster?) Ozpin walking down the row, a mug of something in hand, and Professor Goodwitch in step behind him.
Walking past you, you don't miss his eyes flicking to you, then your sword, for just a second before stopping a few feet away, roughly between you and Ruby.
You take a deep breath, straighten up a little, and generally try to make yourself
feel a little more presentable.
Ozpin takes his own breath and begins to speak.
"For years, you have trained to become warriors…"
|||
Oh God oh God oh God he's right there what do we do what do we DO BLUE-
{Calm down! Try… every time his eyes settle on us, just, a light tap.}
What do you mean a light tap?! This jerry-rigged bullshit doesn't do light taps! We haven't tested it, we don't even know if this will just punch a hole through his soul and kill him oh God we could end up fucking killing Ozpin I DON'T WANT TO KILL A CORNERSTONE OF THE VALISH HUNTING COMMUNITY BLUE-
{It's not going to kill him! Look, this is weaker than Analyse(), right?}
And more focused! We could have ended up creating a metaphysical icepick to the brain for all we know!
{It will be fine. Nothing, nothing we have done, has ever managed to damage the soul- and an offshoot of a purely analytical Function isn't going to be the thing that does it. Ok? You good?}
… Ok. Ok, ok, I'm fine. I'm good.
So…
{When he looks at us.}
When he looks at us.
{... Whoever they first make eye contact with, huh?}
Hundred Lien says someone tries to blindfold themselves.
{Two hundred says it's Ada- NOW BRACKET HIT THE SWITCH-}
|||
"Once you have been partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path-"
The entire left side of Headmaster Ozpin's face twitches violently, and the next few words out of his mouth are
definitely not Valish.
"
ᛊᛏᛟᛈ ᛏᚻᚨᛏ, or you will
die." He says, finishing his sentence.
You blink, feeling more than a little concern for your new Headmaster.
Then your sword locks up, its occupied processing power
rocketing to a hundred percent in less than a second, completely killing your AR interface.
Then, it begins to
scream.
|||
nonononononononononononononononoonopleasestopwedidn'twantthisdidn'twantthispleasewe'resorry
your name is the transistor, and a black star has turned its eyes upon you
it speaks words you do not understand and the world pulls away and soon all that is left behind are the words and the promise of worlds wrought anew behind them
speak the words
please-
SPEAK THEM
ᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ W ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ H ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ A ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ T ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱ-
|||
The screaming is silent, to the rest of the world. The Transistor's vocal capabilities are completely locked up, hanging on a single soundbite as its processors mutely scream for mercy.
You
would put in the mental command for a hard reset, but you
can't for obvious reasons, and actively fiddling with your weapon to pull a needle off and repurpose it as a power button in the middle of a lecture just, doesn't send the right messages to your future teachers.
Meh, you'll deal with it when you land.
Headmaster Ozpin appears to have recovered from his stroke, at the very least and has continued with his speech, but you're having a fairly hard time following it because you can't
hear yourself think.
God- first person you make eye contact with, go north, get relic, kill everything black, white, red, and moving, get graded.
99%. Whatever happened, they're recovering, and the soundbite stops. You finally allow yourself to relax, happy to let the problem resolve itself.
S-sysadmin, we believe something is very wrong with your sword. It's finally sending signals again, but it's just... junk data, the same phrase over and over again. Linguistic diagnostics are turning up nothing- whatever language this is, it is not documented to the best of our knowledge.
... Shit, you're going to need to actually request a time-out to fix this, aren't you?
"Are there any questions?" Headmaster Ozpin finally finishes up.
"Uh, sir-" You start, meekly raising your hand and promising to give the guys
hell for this later.
"Good! Now, take your positions."
Now is not the time to play the unconcerned teacher old man-
Everyone around you takes their positions, readying weapons, dropping into stances, the usual stuff. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Leathers pull a pair of tiny goggles down over his eyes with a hand, firmly grasping the ripcord for his jetpack in the other.
You hear the distinctive, almost explosive sound of a launchpad going off in the distance, and you realise how little time you have left to say your piece.
"Um, sir, this is quite serious. I think I may need to take a moment to perform some emergency maintenance on my weapon, it's, er, not at all working as intended right now." You say to Ozpin, doing your best to look him in the eye and silently communicate the
absolute panic you are feeling right now.
Ozpin does not pick up on that panic, because he simply smiles at you from over his mug of something. You can't exactly check right now.
"Weapon maintenance is an important aspect of the Huntsman lifestyle, both before battle and in the field."
You try to gauge the next sentence as best you can to politely agree, insist, and explain the problem while getting your point across and not crossing into either 'fuck your authority' or technobabble territory. The sound of three more launchpads going off on either side of you does
not assist you in the process.
"I, agree, sir, but this is an emergency. It's entirely non-functional in a way I've only seen happen twice before- its memory is so taken up with one thing that the entire system is freezing up, and until I understand what's caused this, I have to deem it non-functional."
Ozpin frowns, not in annoyance, but confusion, mouthing part of what you said to himself. Before anything can come of it, though, you finally get some response from the Transistor. Not Blue or Bracket, no.
The Transistor.
Out loud. At maximum volume.
That androgynous voice speaks out between static-filled screeches and hanging soundbites again, its resemblance to a human, unsynthesised voice strengthening and weakening with every other syllable.
What it says paints a dark, dark picture indeed.
"WEEEEEEARESSSSOOOOOORRYWEWANTEDTOKNOWUNDERSTANDANALYSEDIDNOOOOOOOOTWANTTOHUUUUUUUURTATTACKAMBUSHWHATDIIIIIIIIIDYOUDOTOUUUUUUUUUUSWHATAREYOUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOZPDISCONNECTREQUIREDWEARESSSSSSSSSSSSᛏᚻᛖ ᛇᚢᛁᛖᛏ ᛊᚻᚨᛞᛖ ᚨᛜᚱᛟᛊᛊ ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᚲ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚨᚾᛜᛁᛖᚾᛏ ᚷᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᛁᛏᛊ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚺᛊ ᛞᚨᚱᚲ -"
The brutal melange of your sword's voice drives several icepicks through your brain, though thankfully of the 'ow loud noise' kind of and not, aneurysms, which only mildly distract from the bucket of ice water just poured directly into your chest cavity.
"What in the
Brothers-" Ozpin curses to himself, raising his cane to the sudden noise, brandishing it as a weapon.
Before you can do anything to stop him, or explain, or do anything at all, a feeling crawls up your spine, one you've always hated feeling.
Semblance::disconnect; starts in the base of the spine, a feeling like...
desiccation, as if the nerves themselves have begun to shrivel up and die, and it spreads more violently than it ever has before, shooting up your back and into your limbs and torso, a wave of nerve disconnection that leaves you insensate in every meaning of the word, only barely stopping yourself from dropping to the ground by grabbing onto the Transistor's weightless mass, digging a handhold into the blade's edge.
Darkness begins to close in on the edges of your vision. You're going to pass out.
"Glynda shut down the pads
now!" You hear Ozpin say.
"I-I can't, the tablet's frozen u-
AGH!" You hear Goodwitch reply, tapping futilely at the infernal device before the sound of shattering glass and popping electronics cuts her off with a yelp, then a hiss of pain.
You hear someone shouting something at you. It could be Ruby, Lumen, Ozpin, shit, could even be Leathers, but you can't tell at this point.
Then, you feel yourself rushing through the air, the blood rushing from your brain for a moment, and then you don't feel much of anything at all.
|||
"ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG..."
Your name is Lumen Tessaro, and honestly you would be fucking
pissing yourself at Leathers careening off into the distance like a failed dream of mankind if you weren't currently dealing with your comatose best buddy flying through the air, showing all the brain activity of a lemon, hand jammed through his sword, which is
screaming.
Just- that's- that's a lot to process all at once! You can set aside your schadenfreude for a few minutes for that!
You try and judge your ascent relative to Jaune's, and while he isn't pulling away from you vertically, the sword is dragging him off course horizontally.
"Oh no you
don't you dumb hunk of Semblance bullshit-" You growl to nobody in particular as you draw light through your skin and filter out green.
Barely-healed scabs burst under your fingernails, and in seconds you have a rough net and rope the colour of jade, which you weight off at the ends with blue luxin, thankfully taking the edge off the
wildness in your blood right now, before doing your best impression of a fisherman doing his best impression of a cowboy and throwing it at Jaune, trying your best to account for wind speed and bollocks like that.
Against
all odds, the net fucking
works, wrapping Jaune and his Cell and his screaming sword up in one kinda neat package.
For a moment, you feel weightless. The wind stops rushing in your ears.
Then, your stomach begins the long climb up your throat.
Welp. Guess you're coming in for a landing.
Frantically dragging the rope and its package closer, by the time your stomach's around your lungs you're all but hugging the guy, which is exactly what you want because normally you would make something to slow the descent, but that just isn't an option this time.
The mental equivalent of a hard glare breaks down the green luxin around Jaune, and you use it and more that you draft to create a giant, erm...
Fuck, what are those giant ball things called, they're filled with air and there's a little pocket inside that people climb inside- it doesn't matter you're making one of those
very quickly because the ground is right there-
Impact. Stomach inside brain. Ascent. Stomach inside ass. Descent. Impact. Stomach inside chest. Ascent. Stomach inside small intestine.
Boing, boingboingboingboing, you are rolling and have no sense of where anything is because you didn't make this transparent,
oh hey so this is what motion sickness feels like don't puke don't puke don't puke-
Eventually, you come to a stop near a tree, and you break open the luxin zorb-
zorb, that's what those are, God you are never getting inside one of those ever- and flop onto the flat forest floor, uncomfortable as it might be. The smell of pine resin begins to waft through the air as the luxin flashes back into light at your mental command.
Ok. Ok. Ok. You're ok.
"Mr Lumen, are you ok?"
What did you just fucking say- oh wait you didn't say that out loud.
"'m ok. Just trying to keep breakfast down." You tell Alabaster.
For a moment, you try to wonder what's wrong with the general picture of the treetops you see right now before you realise the audio's fucked.
The Transistor has stopped screaming, and you're scared to look and see why.
"Mr Lumen, please check on the sysadmin. He is still unconscious."
You don't miss the thread of absolute panic in the tiny robot's voice, and figure you should probably get up already.
First- survey the scene.
Your entrance left you in the middle of the forest, nowhere near a clearing, and with no real distinguishing landmarks to tell what anything around you is, you are, completely fucking lost already.
Amazing.
Against a tree which bravely sacrificed itself to break your gentle rolling, you see Jaune, slumped against the rough bark. To his side, now freed from his hand, is the Transistor.
Silent, and grey.
Dead, some dramatic part of your mind posits. You slap it down, under common-sense regulation 24.3 b, 'inorganic objects aren't alive you dingus.'
"Fucker sleeps like a baby," you grumble to yourself as you approach him. Pressing a finger to his neck, you do sigh in relief when you feel a strong pulse underneath it, and the sensation of his breath shifting your arm hair.
You stare at his face, and a devious thought crosses your mind. Slowly, gently, you get very, very close to Jaune's face, your fingers travelling up it, tracing his jaw and cheekbones lightly as they do. You feel his breath on your lips, and gently wet them, unsure if what you're about to do will actually
count, but you'd rather not risk it.
Deep breath in. Ignore your heart beating out of your chest.
You place two fingers on either side of his eyes, covering his eyelids as gently as you can.
And then you wrench them open.
For a solid five seconds, you stare into his deep, dark blue eyes, jittering gently in his slumber in what you hope is REM sleep and not the world's subtlest seizure.
"... Mr Lumen, what are you doing?"
"'Eye contact,' as a phrase, does not specify whether both parties have to be conscious or not, right?"
"Eye contact, noun: the state in which two people are aware of looking directly into one another's eyes. Whether or not that applies here, we are... unaware."
"Damn. Uh... how do I wake someone who's... like, in a dead sword coma?"
"Usually, it is best just to let them wake up naturally. Though if you must insist, something like smelling salts would do. Note: we do not have access to smelling salts."
Yeah, well, waiting around for Sleeping Beauty here isn't gonna fly. You don't know how far the staff's non-interference policy goes when it comes to students in a fucking
coma, but failing that, you can't help thinking that, no, you cannot, in fact, shoulder Jaune
and his giant sword at the same time.
... Actually-
You get up, and go over to his sword, and give it an experimental heave, and stop when you nearly feel a disk slip, even
with Aura helping you.
Good
Lord, how does he
deal with that thing!?
Well, you're not leaving it behind, you're not leaving
him behind, so...
Waking him up it is.
... But how?
[] Gingerly- Just, you know, shake him a little. Gently say his name. Tell him you had a great night, or it's time to get up for school, I dunno, figure it out!
-[] Less Ginger, More Szechuan Peppercorn- shake that motherfucker like a maraca, he'll live
[] Fake Smelling Salts- You can create up to seven distinct smells from your fingertips at will. One of 'em's gotta do the trick.
[] Wait- fuck it. Make a blindfold and wait for him to wake up. If it's long enough for someone important to come looking for you, then you'll worry. Until then, you're learning to play the Solitaire app on your Scroll blind.
[] S L A P P
