A hand to cradle her head. Another on her waist, pulling Sundancer into him. His back was to the blast. A twist, his back now faced the ground. An impact, and something snapped. Not his. Hers.
He skipped on the shallow water, hit a sheet of red energy fanning out in the air, an impromptu cushion that he crashed right on through. Again a shield appeared to slow them down, to the same result. He glanced off the roof of a car, flipping end over end. Sundancer was wrenched from his arms. Terror, as he lost track of her.
Coming down, his face smashed into the asphalt. An involuntary breath and nostrils became filled with seawater. Sputtering, drowning, he tried to reorient himself. A hand found purchase on rough, beaten road, and pushed to bring his head above the flood. Air was his reward.
The water he inhaled came back up, expelled in great heaves. Shapes and colors danced before his eyes, coalescing over time into buildings, objects, and moving things. The moving things were people, his mind supplied as it cleared. A last moment of confusion had him staring down at his empty hands.
"Sundancer?"
A blur of blue dashed past. Not important. The girl he sought wore red and black. He scanned the road, and spotted her a distance away, slumped along a wall like a puppet with its strings cut as the waterline lapped just below her chin. She looked…
Bad. Badbadbadbadbad.
"Sundancer!"
Flailing off-balanced, he got back upright and stumbled over to the girl. With arms and legs splayed out at sickening angles, her head lolling, she didn't respond to his shout, coughing in labored rasps that sounded as if she was choking. The visor on the mask had cracked, and spots of dark fluid stained the cloth; he ran his fingers under her chin to find the seams to the garment before gingerly pulling the whole thing off.
The first glimpse he received of his friend's uncovered face was of long blonde hair and pretty features drenched in crimson. Freed from the mask, a glob of blood dribbled from her mouth and down her chin. More poured from her ears and nose. Her skin was pale, wan. There were cuts around her eyes; blue irises rolled madly until they landed on him.
"Ja…Jan…whahapp'n…J-J–?" She slurred in an effort to form words. The many, many wounds didn't seem to register with her, leading Sundancer to attempt to move. She scrunched her face in pain. "Ggghh! Ahhh!"
His hands darted forward, instantly rescinding as if scalded. The urge to help ease her agony in some way warred with the thought that he would hurt her more if he touched on an injury by accident.
"Sundancer, don't move, okay? Please don't move. We were hit by a bomb or something, and you're injured, b-but it'll be okay, so just—"
"Huuurd…"
"And we'll make it not hurt. Soon, alright? I'm gonna get you to people who can help." Jaune babbled on as he raced through his options. Long-ingrained common sense jumped first to the solution that said to call for an ambulance. Futile, as his scroll relied on the CCT network instead of whatever it was that people had here, and because they were located at the center of a warzone.
"Aumban…c-call hep…"
Armband, call help? The armbands can be used to communicate! Jaune moved down to the device on her wrist. Unable to decipher the unmarked buttons, he opted for pressing on each in turn.
Hope sank at the sight of a blank and unresponsive screen. Its power had cut out at some point.
"Dammit! It happened to you, too?"
Jaune spun towards the voice, seeing a person descending from the air to hover over the pair. Maskless and sporting a white bodysuit stylized with red arrows, it was the elder of the siblings duo, the one to fire lasers. On her wrist, a similarly dark armband.
"Okay, teleporter evac is out, which isn't ideal, but I can fly her—oh." The flier wilted as she took in the numerous injuries Sundancer bore. "f*ck. sh*t. Panacea can heal this, she can heal anything, but to get there…" She trailed off, too late to spare Jaune the message.
In her current state, Sundancer would never reach this Panacea.
A sniff drew his gaze back to Sundancer. Tears were streaming down her face to rip his heart in two. Cupping a cheek, he carefully rubbed his thumb in a soothing motion.
"It's going to be fine, Sundancer," Jaune mumbled, the empty platitude ringing hollow. "You'll see. I'll fix this. I'll…I'll…"
That scroll full of miracles, can he buy things from it?
He had dismissed the possibility due to the message that prohibited selling items outside the so-called [Home Base] area without an ability to circumvent the restriction. He stood far from the former, and was missing the latter. Yet, that was all the scroll stated; it said not a word on spending Points. And hadn't Jax purchased [Emergency Recall] from Remnant?
The notion, however implausible, was all Jaune had left. He plunged a hand into his pocket.
Scroll unlocked and Hardlight screen spread out, Jaune entered the Marketplace app, quickly navigating to the Medical section. The choices rolled out in an unending list. Resentment flared in him upon seeing too many of them priced outside his means while knowing they were the exact solutions he desired; the pod that had brought him back from the brink was right there, on sale for five times his available line of credit.
As for what he can afford, the choices narrowed in function and scope. Mundane supplies came up in droves, ineffectual against the severity of the injuries. A host of strange names appeared next, whose effects seemed no better; they were just common items from universes not his own. Jaune skimmed past the descriptions in increasing desperation, sparing a mere second or two for each one, searching for…this.
Blood-Replenishing Potions, costing 25 Points for five bottles. Something from nothing, a means of restoring Sundancer's fading blood levels while lessening the strain put on her as the next item did its work.
Stimpaks, a set of ten for 50 Points. What it can treat boggled the mind, a true paramedic's dream. Possibly dangerous to a person at death's door as it cannibalizes the energy reserves of the body to stoke their natural regeneration. Employed in conjunction with the potions, however, and the risk may become moot, or at least mitigated.
Still, neither risk nor cost mattered if he failed to make it past the real concern. A tremulous thumb tapped on the purchase button.
Stimpaks x10, Blood-Replenishing Potions x5
Points Cost: 75
Points Balance: 0
Insufficient Points. Buy on—
That was all he needed to read. Jaune slammed his finger on the second button to confirm the order.
"Yes! Hell yes!" He whooped as two glass cases materialized to levitate in front of him, revolving to showcase the contents within. His hands passed through the side of the first box as if it were never there, and the contraption vanished the moment he removed the tray holding the round, glass bottles. Leaving the second case to float in midair—a baffled woman flying alongside it, staring agog—he grabbed one bottle by the slender neck, with the rest lowered to the water where they bobbed up and down, and drew close to the injured girl.
"Sundancer, drink this. Hurry." He unstoppered the bottle and tipped it, letting the syrupy medicine trickle between her lips. Much of the fluid spilled back out, but once he saw that she managed to swallow some down without gagging, Jaune tilted the potion further. When half the bottle was gone, he put it to the side for later, and turned to the container holding the stimpaks.
The second case popped out of existence as he took out the small, plastic package—colored white and bearing red crosses on the sides and top—which opened to reveal ten syringes resting in two neat rows, capped by numbered gauges and loaded with a pink liquid. The accompanying label on the roof of the box detailed usage instructions. It read simply enough, except for a couple of words.
"Intravenous and intramuscular. Does that mean I can inject it in either vein or muscle?" His question caught the flier by surprise.
"Huh?"
"Hurry, please!"
"Uh, uh, yes! I'm pretty sure it is! I saw it on Jeopardy once."
Dubious, but that was the best second opinion he was going to find. Jaune tore open the costume material on Sundancer's right arm, and jabbed the needle at an unblemished (and thus, to his amateur diagnosis, uninjured) spot. After the syringe had finished delivering its contents, he removed the device, and watched for a sign of the medicine affecting her.
One second. Nothing observable occurred.
Two seconds. His heart sped up, gripped by fear.
Three seconds. Four. F-five.
Sundancer gave a sob, and it nearly sent him into a panic until he noticed the cuts on her face closing shut and her posture untensing. Delicate, blood-stained lips quirked in an unbidden smile of relief as the pain wracking her began to ebb.
He did not cry. It was the rain.
Setting to work, he assisted her in finishing the half-full Blood-Replenishing Potion, which he followed up with another stimpak injection. Color returned to deathly-pale skin, and swiping a thumb across the trail of blood on the corner of her mouth showed that it had ceased flowing. He proceeded to add a second bottle plus two more syringes, choosing to err on the side of too much healing rather than not enough. Was it the right procedure? Can a person overdose on these items? He didn't know, but didn't dare to stop.
After the fifth stimpak and third potion had been administered, the condition of Sundancer stabilized to the best as it would get. Both her legs and arms remained broken, and she had difficulty breathing still—it may relate to a protrusion under the skin located on her ribcage, a sight that worried him immensely—but the medicine seemed to be keeping her from experiencing the pain in full, reducing it to a dull ache. In the meantime, Sundancer was able to shift her body to a better position, and Jaune helped to hold her head above the water as he wiped away what he could of the residual streaks of blood. The fact she can muster the energy to voice reassurances whilst chuckling at his mother-hen impression mollified him somewhat.
"You saved me again…"
"No, I messed up. I was dumb and got it in my head that the scroll wouldn't work here. If I had thought of it sooner, I could have spared you a lot of suffering." Jaune chided himself. The device was too new, too unfamiliar, for his mind to jump directly to it in a pinch. That'd have to change going forward. When his savings start filling up, the store may provide any number of useful, if not outright essential, solutions beyond his normal means.
"Stop that! If, if, if! Well, if we never met in the first place, I would have died." Sundancer insisted, giving a petulant huff. "So I'm thanking you, and nothing you say will change my mind."
"But, still—"
"Not. A. Thing. Thank you very much!"
"I—"
"Thank you!"
"W—" He started.
"Thank—" She was ready to cut him off.
"...Heh. So that's how it's going to be, then?"
"Yup. That's how it's going to be. And thank you!"
Blue eyes gazed into blue eyes, and they shared a laugh together.
"Not that this isn't adorable," a voice interrupted, and Jaune almost dropped Sundancer in surprise, having forgotten about the flying hero, "because it totally is and I'm squeeing my heart out on the inside, but I would like to remind you that she still needs proper medical attention, and there's this minor annoyance in the area called Leviathan. Remember him? We need to go."
"Right. Crap. Where's that monster run to?"
She pointed behind him. Jaune and Sundancer craned their necks to look.
Far down the street, deep within the curtains of rain, two shapes were locked in combat, Leviathan was a silhouette in the dark visible only when it moved, while the smaller figure appeared faintly blue. As they carried on their battle, Jaune was able to pick out further details, putting name to costume.
"Armsmaster is beating it back, so we have an opening—" The flier flinched as she saw the expression stealing across his face.
"And why, oh why, would he be in a position to do that, I wonder," said Jaune, with chilly politeness. A twitch had developed at the corner of his mouth and it was taking quite the effort to suppress the snarl. "Did you see what happened to us, perchance?"
Although, he can already make a few guesses as to the whats and the hows. And who.
The woman gulped. "Armsmaster, he… he threw a bomb, it's some kind of concussive blast that knocked everything over and blew out the windows." Seeing his face become thunderous as she spoke, the flying blonde continued in a rush. "But he must have had a reason to do it. This is Armsmaster we're talking about, and he wouldn't ever break the Truce! He probably spotted Leviathan pulling a trick or about to attack you, and he didn't have time to use anything else? Or- or he just misaimed when trying to help finish it off?"
So she says. Did he buy it? Hell no!
He didn't know which he wanted to kill more at the moment, the mass-murdering beast or the backstabbing beast. One was impersonal in its animosity, seeking to murderize everyone in the city, of which he and Sundancer were just a couple of nameless nobodies to be included. The other carried out a deliberate maiming—scratch that, an outright murder attempt!—of his friend, and made him break his promise. Sundancer had counted on him to keep her safe. Because of Armsmaster, look where that miserable idea went. He almost lost her!
The needle, already weighted, ticked decisively over to one side when the voice of Armsmaster drifted to their ears.
"For the terror and destruction you've inflicted on the people of this world, I, Armsmaster, will send you to your grave! Today, you die by my hands, Leviathan!"
Borne on speakers that amplified each word as if to let the entire world hear, the proclamation surely struck awe into the hearts of heroes and villains alike. Deep, rich, and strong, his was the type of voice that one expected from a true superhero, and projected utmost certainty. None who heard those words would doubt his claim. It sounded larger than life. It sounded like judgment passed down from a king.
To Jaune, neither hero nor villain but a victim of the man's actions, those words rang with a different connotation.
I will become legend. I will become greater than Legend.
The arrogance to believe that his ability can surpass that of a thousand laser beams. The blindness to think he can match the might of a burning sun. As the man continued speaking—mocking Leviathan, extolling the inevitability of its defeat, and boasting of his surefire victory—anger flared on Jaune's face.
Did he and Sundancer get stonewalled so Armsmaster can enjoy this opportunity? Earlier at the intersection, seeing an upstart villain ready to deal what could well be the crucial blow on a time-locked Leviathan must have sent him into such a tizzy; it's little wonder that he erupted on them in a rage. As for the bombs he strapped on the beast's frozen form, Jaune derided them as ineffective, but they had served their purpose in truth. Armsmaster wanted the honor of the first strike. Then, one more piece of explosive granted him a chance to steal the kill after so many have given their lives to whittle down the enemy.
Heroes and villains, dead for the sake of his moment in the spotlight. Sundancer's victory, snatched away at the finish. The masterstroke of a rousing speech, presenting his version of events to the world at large before the truth can spread...
Bravo, that chaser of glory, the monster without peer. Come tomorrow, there won't be a single person that does not know his name.
Maybe not in the manner he wanted, though. Jaune was going to put an early end to Armsmaster's dream, likely along with Armsmaster, in as loud a fashion as possible. He's gotten a bit of practice, only a day ago, in the proper way to handle this exact sort of psycho who would mow down allies with scant remorse. It's a habit he would not particularly mind developing.
Hehehe, turnabout was fairplay, he should take a page from the man's book and wait until Leviathan lay on the very edge of death's door to spring the trap.
"Jaune? It's starting to hurt again. Can I get some more of that medicine?"
Sundancer's request jolted him out of his half-formed plans to achieve payback and he set them aside to refocus on the injured girl, preparing a new stimpak on one hand in a now well-practiced motion. A flick sent the cap flying off. A twirl placed his fingers and palm in the correct position. He set the needle against her arm, and Sundancer squeezed her eyes shut as the syringe plunged into skin.
When finished, he disposed of the empty stimpak.
"Please don't attack him."
"Huh?"
Sundancer had reopened her eyes, and an insistent gaze bore into Jaune to let him know that he had been rather blatant in his designs. "The lives of so many people depend on Leviathan's defeat. We can't interfere with that."
"It was supposed to be you that won!" He protested, but she gave a small shake of her head.
"I'll be happy just seeing it gone. As for who gets credit…if I'm known for beating Leviathan, they'd ask me to keep hurting things. Maybe people, too, down the line. He's welcome to that fate. Please, Jaune, let it be."
Jaune didn't fancy that idea. Hated it, in fact. Notions of seeking glory and renown had been beaten out of him by Pyrrha during their training nights, the girl herself exemplifying the concept of putting duty before personal fame. For his troubles, he got shot up with a few dozen bullets; Pyrrha received the doozy that was an extra soul which may or may not destroy her own soul in time. Sundancer fared no better, nearly losing her life fighting for the sake of others. Armsmaster being rewarded for doing the complete opposite rankled him to no end.
"It's not fair. You know that, right?" Seeing Sundancer remain adamant, Jaune huffed in defeat. "You are a terrible villain. As in, you're no good at it. At least tell me you'll set his pants on fire if he shows his smug face around us."
An exasperated roll of her eyes, and she said, "No promises. All I want now is a bed, and to move my arms and legs like normal again."
"And I'll get you to both, pronto!" The flier declared, then addressed Jaune. "Also, while I still think you're wrong about Armsmaster, I'm going to make sure people know of you two's contributions." Sundancer opened her mouth to object, but the blonde barreled on. "If you really mean to avoid notice, I can downplay your part, but even helping to kill an Endbringer should get you a good payout, so why don't you think about it?"
Sundancer did appear somewhat pensive upon hearing mention of a payment; Jaune took it as a win, and directed a grateful nod to the flying hero. That sentiment redoubled after she conjured a long, stretcher-like forcefield for him to lay Sundancer on. Recalling how he crashed through two of these after the bomb hit him, Jaune rapped his knuckles on the surface to test out the solidity.
"How strong is this thing? Can it support the both of us?"
The flier winced. "It's kinda brittle, so be gentle; my shields are the weakest in the family. I can carry little miss sunshine here, but you might have to stay, unless…" She turned towards the fighting, eyes scanning the sky above it, "Shielder! Shielder!"
The person she was calling out to, the younger brother presumably, failed to materialize, lost within the low visibility.
"Damn. If you wait, I can go look for him. His top speed is pretty slow, but he can save you the trouble of wading through water."
Jaune made his decision right there. "No need for that, please take Sundancer and go."
"What!? No!" Sundancer exclaimed.
"A bit of a walk isn't going to bother me when you need proper care. The sooner you get it, the happier I'd be," Jaune said, resolute. "I can find my own way out of here."
Sundancer looked like she wanted to argue, but the flier nodded in agreement and directed the forcefield to rise. Reluctantly, the girl settled down, though she shot him a glare.
"If you so much as catch a cold, I'll get really mad at you."
"I won't," he answered easily. "And I'm sor—no. What I mean is, thank you for going along with my recklessness all this while."
Dropping the glare, she giggled. "Is that what you'd call it? Well, I was glad to. I expected a lot of things heading into this fight, most of them bad." A blush. "Finding a friend wasn't one of them."
"Hehe, same here. We made a good team."
The healing supplies went onto the platform, set to one side. Looking at it, the four syringes that were left seemed woefully insufficient, so he bought one more pack of stimpaks just to be on the safe side, then addressed the flier.
"If the injuries flare up, inject one for her, alright? The potions shouldn't be needed, but if she loses blood, get her to drink some."
"Understood. By the way, did you make these things? And that teleporting doohickey, too."
"Oh, man. I don't even know where to begin to explain."
I'm an alien from another universe and my new scroll is a magical device, a genie's lamp that grants wishes at a cost. To pay for it, I came here to plunder valuable booty. Which, I guess, makes me a pirate. Arrr.
Let's not say that.
"I think I recognize them," Sundancer interjected. "One's based on the Fallout games, isn't it? As for the bottles… were they from the Harry Potter books? I remember in one of the chapters they used potions that can recover a person's blood levels."
Whatever explanation he could have given died on his lips. Unable to muster a sound in his shock, Jaune's mouth flapped open and shut, all kinds of confused. Games and books? These were supposed to be items from different worlds.
"Is it tinkertech?" She asked.
"…It is exactly that. We can talk about it later, when you're safe and healthy." And when he had worked out how to best reveal his story, because simply telling the full, unvarnished truth right off the bat was not a winning premise to convince people of his sanity, doubly so when he's summoning make-believe things.
The forcefield floated higher than him now, and Sundancer craned her neck to peer down through the translucent material.
"You had better be okay when I see you again!" She called out.
Jaune waved to show that he heard, and watched the two of them ascend. Soon enough, they rose above the height of the buildings. The flying blonde checked on her passenger and, once satisfied she wouldn't fall off, zoomed through the sky with Sundancer in tow.
After she dropped out of sight, Jaune hung his head and allowed himself to groan. He had put on a blasé attitude in front of Sundancer, but slogging across a flooded city was going to suck no matter which way he cut it.
"Alright, no point standing around."
The fight was a bust. The search for items to sell, ditto barring a measly 100-Point knife. Still, he can look forward to a warm bed and, perhaps, a hot meal before deciding where to go from here. There's a new clue to investigate, the 'tinkertech' that Sundancer mentioned. Were they objects he could buy? If yes… well, what do you know, he might see some money coming his way at a very opportune time so long as the flying hero did as she claimed.
Of course, that scenario depended on Leviathan dying or retreating. Curious to know the result, he put following Sundancer on hold to detour down the street. Eyes peeled for danger moving near him, Jaune skulked along the side of the buildings, ready to duck inside at the first sign of a giant water monster. Here and there, he identified the shapes of people behind cover or flying in the air, including the boy referred to as Shielder high up and Skitter hunkered down next to a car. They were all facing the same direction, and he joined them to observe how the battle was faring.
It yet continued.
On a long stretch of the road, a one-on-one duel raged on, ringed by a smattering of heroes and villains who stayed far back from the melee.
Seething animosity aside, Jaune admitted that Armsmaster at least displayed the skill to back up his position as a superhero. Alone, he was fighting toe to toe with Leviathan in close quarters, a prospect that caused Jaune to blanch; he barely survived his own encounter, this guy made it look easy.
The blue armored figure moved and attacked as a whirlwind, and he somehow dual-wielded—what was with total bastards that Jaune hated and dual-wielding? That's two for two—long halberds with the technique of a top class Huntsman; one was a high-tech marvel of engineering, the other a simple steel pole topped by a blade bearing a strange blurring effect. Together, those weapons seemed capable of anything, from vaporizing the afterimages Leviathan summoned with a purple flame, to freezing a wave in time, to leaving deep gouges on its form.
A low cut that tore into one of the massive legs transitioned to a dodge as the monster retaliated with a tail swipe, whereupon Armsmaster employed Leviathan's knee as a springboard to leap high and carve a line on its chest.
A matador twirl that outperformed Jaune's best attempt created an opening for him to score a long furrow on its side, with one of Leviathan's full-body afterimage neatly evaded through the use of a grappling hook that sprang from the head of a halberd.
Whatever Leviathan tried, Armsmaster had an answer. No matter how it struggled, he never relented on the offensive.
But…the decisive victory this hero craved, it remained ever out of reach.
Jaune would even say that it was slipping out of the man's fingers, his gradually-widening and horrified eyes spotting the many ways that Leviathan, bleeding from multiple new (and sizable) wounds, was improving with each passing second.
He's wrong, right? He has to be wrong.
Yet, when exhausted limps now moved in crisp motions, when a tail that should have been cut to the bone rendered a concrete wall into a fine dust, when waist-height waves stopped being waist-height and expanded to be ten feet high? The reality became impossible to deny. Leviathan was fighting better. Much better.
And it just so happened to occur after Sundancer had been taken far, far away.
Oh dear. The thing played possum, didn't it?
By the look on his face, Armsmaster arrived at the same conclusion. The quips and declarations, the pageantry he hammed up, ceased in lieu of a hard-set grimace. Actions grew, if not frantic, then rushed.
The grappling hook relocated him at the base of the tail, and the man worked his arms in a frenzy to hack at Leviathan. Shallow chips and pieces rained off the beast. The tail rose, he fired the hook. Landing front and center, he stabbed upward once then spun to avoid a set of water claws, rushing in right after to press his assault. He committed, and the battle shifted to a static contest of attrition, with him relying on his training to evade rather than the various gadgets.
Trying to match it on physical attributes? That's a dumb move, Jaune judged. Meaning it's a trap. If it were him pulling that stunt, he'd be doing it to—
A wave swelled behind Leviathan, wide and curved to aim inward.
Aha. A big, telegraphed finisher has been baited.
The wave slammed through Leviathan, wrapping on either side and closing in a pincer move to cut off the routes of retreat for Armsmaster.
Who, simply, touched a button. The high-tech halberd launched its grappling hook straight at the wave, and locked it in a temporal effect identical to the power of Clockblocker, snaring the arms and legs in the process.
Loathing the man as he did, Jaune still found himself leaning forward, watching in rapt attention for what will surely follow. The deciding blow.
Armsmaster took two steps, then leapt. The bound wave became his footholds, letting him ascend to the top of Leviathan. One leg on a shoulder, the other on its head, he brandished the remaining halberd high.
"The end, monster."
He granted his foe a last derisive sneer before driving the weapon into Leviathan's neck, the blade sinking deep like a knife through butter.
Then, like a knife through flesh.
And finally, like a knife through stone. The triumphant gleam Armsmaster had revealed in anticipation of victory vanished from his face. In its place, an expression of utmost disbelief.
"H-how? My nanothorn can cut anything!"
That one moment of distraction would cost him.
The temporal effect collapsed. The wave crashed onto the street in a massive boom. Leviathan's arm, now freed, shot up in a blur, sharp claws slamming shut to trap the blue suit of armor in a tight grip.
Leviathan pulled its prey, halberd and all, off its shoulder and lowered him until they were face to face. Not surrendering, Armsmaster swung his weapon, attempting to slice at the arm holding him. The long pole worked against his purpose, unable to catch the correct angle. Still, ever tenacious, the man continued his struggle.
The hand began to squeeze.
At first, it elicited a mere grunt, discomfort endured as Armsmaster focused on breaking free of the grip. That did not last long. Leviathan increased the pressure. The expression of grim determination dissolved into a rictus of agony as the armor pieces grinded together, servos whining in protest. A spark ran along one arm and the halberd, the last hope of Armsmaster to escape, slipped from his fingers. It hit the water with a splash.
And that was that. Caught in the clutches of the monster, bereft of his beloved weapon, Armsmaster faced his doom.
Jaune knew he should feel something. Sadness for a life ending, perhaps, or respect for a fellow warrior. If not, since he held little sympathy and zero admiration for the man, then at least let there be a bout of tenderhearted understanding upon witnessing such an awful way to go. After all, members of the same species, by nature, tend to experience an aversion to seeing a similar creature get hurt.
This sensation of bubbling glee was probably not the correct emotion. A definite no, in fact. But, dammit, the guy stole Sundancer's victory and then he fumbled it!
Sort of like how he dropped that halberd, really.
Jaune was going to feel so ashamed for that thought later, maybe, but right now? Pure catharsis. Absolute zen. He was of half a mind to just leave the man there and walk off into the sunset. Or, well, the gray patch of sky where a sunset should be.
Someone else showed a different reaction.
Skitter, the bug controller, scrambled out of hiding to head towards the towering beast and the trapped hero. Her hands plunged into the frigid water, and came out hefting the halberd in an amateurish grip. She winded the weapon back in (poor) imitation of how Armsmaster did it, losing her balance as she failed to account for the heavy weight at the top, and brought it down on Leviathan's arm. She almost missed, and the best she managed to accomplish was clipping it on the skin.
Undeterred, or unaware of her atrocious form, she tried again. This time the blade struck true, if superficial. The rain-soaked pole also promptly slid out of her grasp to fall on a collision course with her skull. Jaune would have slapped a hand over his eyes in exasperation at this travesty of martial skill, if he wasn't busy catching the weapon before the razor-sharp head of it brained the fool.
His slash, although not masterful by any means, accommodated basic principles of weapon handling. The halberd cut into the wrist and sheared about two inches past the skin. Leviathan gave no indication it had noticed.
Very well, have at thee.
Jaune proceeded to rain down blow after blow upon Leviathan, striving to sever the limb holding Armsmaster. Clouds of bugs, heaving under the weight of water, alighted on the monster to bite and sting. Another person, armed with a sword-like drill, drove it home below the base of the tail and activated the spinning function. In a surreal development, giant stuffed animals made their appearance, a trio marching abreast. They slammed into Leviathan's sides, the adorable creatures trying to wrestle it to the ground. More figures darted in to strike with blades and fists, or stayed further back and peppered the head with lasers and bullets.
A low, keening wail escaped through the gritted teeth of Armsmaster as the crushing force passed the threshold he could tolerate. It signaled a dwindling time limit for the would-be rescuers, and they ignored the protests of their tired limbs to eke out every bit of effort. Jaune swung with reckless abandon, by this point having carved the forearm down to half its thickness—strangely, no further. The insects poured into the injuries that crisscrossed the beast, attacking from the inside; the amount of bee venom used could have killed a whale. The sword-drill reduced itself to a dulled, smoking ruin. The ground shook with the strength exerted by the stuffed animals punching and kicking.
To no avail.
Dawning horror flashed across Armsmaster's face before—*crack!*—it slackened to blankness.
And that was that. The end, for true this time.
Armsmaster deceased, CC-7.
Why was only his armband working?
Jaune shunted the question to the back of his mind, because he had a bigger problem looming over his head. Namely, Leviathan looking down at the buffet clustered around its legs.
Jaune tried stabbing it with the halberd one more time. It didn't do jack.
Leviathan lifted both arms, and that did something. A rumble passed under the street. Cracks formed as the noise grew louder. With a bang, a huge concrete pipe broke the road surface. From it, water spewed forth to construct a wave half again the usual size.
"Where the heck did that come from?" Jaune blurted, unable to fathom a giant water hose just popping up out of nowhere.
"It's the storm sewers," someone whispered, voice tinged by horrified realization.
Well, now he knew, and they do say knowing was half the battle.
Jaune sure wished someone would tell him the other half, too, because he's racking his brain and coming up with a whole lot of nothing to counter this. Well, that's not right. There's one.
In a calm, steady voice that surprised even him, Jaune said, "Can anyone here make a barrier to withstand that?"
Yup, that was his last ditch plan. Asking for a miracle.
"H-here."
Huh. What do you know?
"GATHER UP!" He shouted, leaping to land next to the blond boy—Shielder, the older sibling had called him.
Not all of them made it in before the shields went up and the wave hit. He could only hope those guys survived. It stopped mattering a second later, though, because Leviathan lashed out with its tail. The barrier shattered under the blow and those within were swept away to join the rest.
For half a minute or so, water became his world. Hands clamped over mouth and nose, Jaune held on to the one shallow breath he managed to catch as he was thrown against the ground, the cars, the building, and other people. Attempts to grab on inevitably resulted in the water prying his fingers from the handholds. The current was too strong to resist for long. His Aura flickered time and time again as it endured the barrage of impacts. That didn't worry him overmuch; he had Aura for days. What scared him was the possibility of drowning, it posing as one of the few real dangers to Huntsmen. Aura or no, people needed to breathe.
The water ebbed just as his lungs burned for air. The first breath he took ended with a relieved sob.
Rising on shaky legs, he searched for Leviathan, expecting an imminent attack. It was gone. For good? No, that was a vain hope. It had, in all likelihood, exited the stage to go and wreak havoc elsewhere in the city.
In its wake, a stillness but for the rain, and bodies in the water.
Then, movement.
A stirring here. A power effect there. Not everyone had passed.
Stuffed animals, waterlogged, returned to their feet and hurried around to check for survivors. Jaune joined them in the task.
The sword-drill thing was impaled in a wall; they couldn't find the owner. A yellow-suited woman needed to be extricated from under a car. He awoke a high-tech power armor by poking it, though the person inside skated off on their waterski system instead of helping. That wasn't the last hero or villain to bail.
Jaune came across Shielder crawling out of a muck-filled collapsed portion of the road, and helped to pull the boy free. As he was making sure the guy could stand on his own, a squishy-soft paw tapped his shoulder. It was one of the stuffed animals, and the lion pointed with the other arm to its brethren, a pig waving for their attention from further down. It stood over a dark shape, which on closer inspection was revealed to be Skitter. Her visible injuries were… extensive, to put it mildly.
"P-please…Please help me…" Her voice was a weak murmur. The gash on her neck caused a watery gurgle with each breath she took, and a whistling pitch to her words. "I don't want to die… please…"
She wore a dark, scary costume and a creepy bug helmet, and displayed an off-putting mannerism to boot. His encounter with her left him a sneaking suspicion that she was some insectile creature. A thing unlike a person.
But that plaintive cry beneath the mask, it sounded all too human. Before he knew it, the scroll was already out of his pocket and opened to the Marketplace. Any regrets of losing precious Points turned moot as familiar packages materialized from thin air, and he administered the same mix of stimpaks and Blood-Replenishing Potions that had saved Sundancer's life.
Things went different, here. The neck injury healed, as did the other ones Jaune can see, but her breathing persisted as rasps and wheezes. The voice begging for help steadily grew smaller. Lifting the mask exposed a flowing nosebleed. No amount of otherworld medicine had staunched it.
Jaune and Shielder shared a glance, neither wanting to pin a diagnosis on the girl. The terms 'internal trauma' played through their minds.
"Can you evac her?" Jaune asked Shielder.
The boy didn't respond, the sight of him said it all. Wan and staggering, he stood upright by clinging on to a stuffed animal, and that was after receiving a stimpak injection himself to mitigate the hardest wounds. The sister mentioned that his ability to fly lacked speed at the best of times. These were not the best of times.
Armbands? Fried. Medicine? Futile. Transport? Grounded.
"… help…please…" Delirious, and likely unaware of the situation around her, Skitter continued to beg.
"I…"
Can't, Jaune hated to say.
A person on death's door. Another capable of flight. And him.
All the elements as before. More of the same. Only, it got worse.
What a hell he has walked into. What a f*cked up world. It felt as if this place wanted him to break.
Kneeling down in the water, he took the dying girl's hand. It was the last thing he knew to do, a lesson learned in Beacon when he asked of his professor a certain question. What to do for the people they cannot save.
Offer kind words in their last moments, was the answer.
"You—"
Have done well? Can rest now? Their youth made it worse; her and Shielder both. They were younger than him. Younger than Ruby, even. This shouldn't have been a battle they fought or the place her life ended, and coming up with something to say that would make it okay proved an impossible challenge.
The kid was crying now, tears and snot mixing with raindrops as she came to understand why a person would be there to hold her hand but not save her. And to that scared girl for whom nothing else can be done, who had nothing in her future, with nothing left, he mustered the strength to try again. She deserved kindness, at least.
But as he aligned the weak, meaningless sentiments together in his mind, lips ready to shape the words he'd say out loud, a memory stirred.
There once was an injured boy, way back when. His soon-to-be partner healed him with but a chant and an indomitable will.
It's a different universe, but perhaps even here one might find the inextinguishable soul yearning to awaken.
"I am going to try… something." The declaration began slow and unsure, picking up momentum as he warmed to the idea. "Something I've no idea will pan out or not, mind you, but since I've just discovered that I possessed a startling lack of talent in comforting last words, it's worth a shot. If you disagree, save it for afterward." Despite the condition he was in, Shielder managed a snicker at that. It attracted Jaune's notice. "Know what? You get over here, too. Pyrrha never mentioned there being a limit on this."
She never told him the particulars of this procedure, either, so he'd have to proceed based on the feel of his own experience. Which was fine. That's how the best chefs do it.
For the first step, he remembered her putting a hand on his cheek. Skitter's face was a mess of cuts and bruises, but he found a spot at the base of her jaw that he can touch without inflicting pain. His other hand reached out to Shielder. A slight misjudgment of distance led to him slapping the hero on the mouth. Deeming it workable, he shrugged and moved on.
Pyrrha had glowed on that day in the forest. He had learned what that meant after the fact; she was drawing on her Aura. Hers then were a red hue, his here shined with a white light. It lit up the immediate area, shining as a beacon.
Lastly, Pyrrha somehow also made him glowy. That was the crucial part he's having trouble grasping. As he understood it, she had Aura while he did not. Then, she had less Aura while he had some. Logic follows that she shoved her Aura over to his side. Was it a simple matter of doing, or had the poem she chanted jumpstart the process? He's undecided.
Nothing was stopping him from using both.
His eyes closed shut, looking inward to hunt for that elusive well of energy called Aura. Its instinctive protection was dead easy to trigger, but conscious manipulation required a delicate touch, a person in tune with their inner self. Or, you can just really, really, really want to. So went the Ren/Nora lecture on Aura control, and he's opting for the explanation given by the latter at the moment. In a turn of events that would make Ren despair, Jaune did manage to tease out a spark, and willed it forward.
The mote of Aura did not split, yet it still ran down the two different paths, one leading to Skitter, the other to Shielder. A puzzling conundrum.
The Aura settled in his palms, and he experienced the odd feeling of it bouncing off a wall. Jaune compelled the energy to break past this obstacle.
Alright, now, how did the unlocking chant go? Ah, yes. With great solemnity, he thus spoke.
"For it is in passing that we achieve immorality."
Damn. He messed up on the wording. No matter, press on!
"Through this, we become a something something of glory to rise to the top."
It's close enough! He brought his Aura to bear, sending it along to the two teens.
"Infinity in distance and…and beyond when dead? *whisper* whatever, I'll just use more Aura to compensate *whisper* I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect ye."
Boom! And that's the gist of it. He managed to hit the broad strokes, by his reckoning. Jaune opened his eyes and, to prove his point, saw the telltale radiance of Aura not his own.
Shielder looked down at himself in wonder, amazed by the shield his powers had not conjured yet still safeguarding his form. Going into this ritual, Jaune expected to see blue, white, or maybe gold for the blond hair. The kid's Aura was actually orange. Surprising, but the boy in question seemed less concerned about it, reveling in his recovering energy as he took a little hop and was able to float inches atop the water, albeit with a tired and shaky bobble to his flight.
As for Skitter… Jaune whooped in delight, for the girl's breathing had evened out, expression smoothing into serenity instead of the earlier agonized torment. Her Aura appeared as the muddy brown of earth, a new hue Jaune has yet to witness. Teenage Huntress magazine (which somebody dropped in the library and he and Ren definitely did not read cover to cover, only skimming the pages when the wind turned them) claimed that the colors signified the defining character trait of a person. What did Skitter's symbolize? The article devoted most of the pages to how red meant passion and pink was a sign of an ardent heart, and they sort of neglected to include shades of brown, beige, gray, and other less exciting colors.
Whatever. The important thing was that he succeeded in unlocking a person's Aura. Proof of concept was viable, and when he meets back up with Sundancer, he'll activate hers without delay. Dammit, if he had thought of it before…no, that was hindsight talking. It's no use dwelling on the 'could have beens'.
A groan drew him out of his thoughts. It came from Skitter. Jaune, Shielder, and the stuffed animals leaned over as a group to look at the girl waking up. Her eyes fluttered open to peer up at Jaune. They widened in horror.
"Pana—!" A cry of utmost fear, cut short as her vision cleared. "No, wait, you're not her…are you— *cough, cough!* —are you with New Wave?"
"You know, that's the second time someone asked me that today," Jaune said. "Glad to see you're awake. How do you feel?"
"Uhhh. Good. But bad. But good? Am I on drugs?"
Shielder chimed in. "Ditto. What was that?"
Before Jaune could answer, Skitter made a strange, spasming motion.
"I-I can't get up!"
Jaune winced. "Ooh, not good. That probably means something's still wonky, then. Aura does a lot, but there are issues it can't fix."
"Aura?"
"The manifestation of your soul. It empowers you. Heals you. And gives you a Semblance." Catching the question about to be asked by the two, he preempted them. "A Semblance is like a superpower."
Simultaneously, Skitter and Shielder shouted, latching on to the last point.
"I have a second power!?" / "You can grant powers!?"
They were completely floored by his statement. Meaning, what he did might not be a common occurrence. Jaune deflected at speed.
"I live out in the sticks. It's a thing there. For realsies."
Just a simple farmboy, nothing to see here. They seemed disbelieving of his lie.
"Look, there is a time and place for a discussion about my abilities. It's not in the middle of a typhoon with a roaming Leviathan added to the mix." Skitter and Shielder shivered at the mention of the monster's name. Jaune pointed at the former. "You need medical attention, and quickly."
The girl, who was all kinds of messed up on the inside, actually hesitated, saying, "But, if Leviathan is still in the city, then we can't stand by and do nothing! I have to fight it!"
She's nuts. Jaune very carefully did not say that.
Taking on a gentler tone, he urged her, "Leave it for others to worry about. You've done your part. More than your part. What's left for you is to rest and recuperate."
"But—!"
"And if that's not enough for you, then I'd add a reminder that you literally cannot stand up to anything at the moment. No matter what, they'll have to put you on a hospital bed. Make it easy on yourself and go with it." Jaune gave himself a mental pat on the back as the girl deflated. Seriously, she's nuts!
"I'm starting to think you are with New Wave," Shielder interrupted. "You sound like mom and dad."
"Is he really not? It's just—"
"Nope." The boy addressed the girl. "Never met him before in my life, but I get what you mean. No mask, Panacea colors, can heal and form a personal forcefield on his skin. He even has blond hair like us. The similarities are uncanny."
The siblings were part of New Wave. He had suspected, what with the unmasked faces.
"It's a total coincidence," Jaune dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I can't shoot lasers like your sister can."
Shielder perked up. "Wait, have you seen my sister? Do you know where she is?"
"Yeah? She should be with Panacea right now, along with a friend of mine," Jaune answered, and noticed the other boy fidgeting. "What's up?"
"Um. I think- that is, since I'm hurt, too, and you said we shouldn't fight, I want to go to her!" After blurting that out in a rush, he flushed red and hung his head as if he expected a reprimand. Jaune rolled his eyes. After what the kid's been through, making up an excuse to avoid Leviathan and wanting to run to the safety of his family were the normal things to come out of a person's mouth. He'd have questioned Shielder's mental state if he insisted on fighting. Like someone.
"Good idea. Take Skitter with you."
Shielder nodded, grateful. Skitter, far more grudging, looked like she would argue. A flat stare conveyed his message. She backed down, sulking.
Jaune added. "Do me a favor, though. Check up on my friend for me once you're there. See if she's alright. She goes by Sundancer."
"No problem, I'll do that first thing after I drop Skitter with Panacea. But what will you be doing?"
"I'm headed that way on foot." He crossed his arms in an 'X' when they suggested traveling as a group, "Do you have the energy to carry two people? No? Fly ahead, then, and get yourselves seen to. Remember, make sure Sundancer is being looked after. Tell her I'll be by in a bit."
And, oh boy, was he going to be in trouble with her for jumping into a second fight with Leviathan the moment she turned her back. Whoops.
A concord reached, they proceeded with moving Skitter. Worried of aggravating the unseen injuries, Jaune directed Shielder to whip up a forcefield and press it flat to the ground under the water, after which they shifted her a little at a time to get her on. Once there, the platform lifted in a slow, labored ascent. Shielder drifted beside it, lingering exhaustion shown by his erratic flight path.
"Think you can do this?" Jaune asked, concerned. The younger boy answered with a weak thumbs-up.
"I'll make it. Somehow." He turned to go, but hesitated and spun back around. "Okay, I have to ask. Those things you were saying when you gave us our 'aura', what did they mean? Because I didn't understand most of it."
Jaune hid his panic, pasting on his best 'enigmatic smile' a la Ozpin. "That is natural. I touched on many profound subjects in that speech, and it would take you a lifetime to comprehend its truths."
When he returns to Remnant, he's making Pyrrha write the damn words down for him to memorize. Unlocking someone's Aura should not be this embarrassing.
"That doesn't—"
"Oh, get out of here already! There's a girl hurt; be her hero and take her to the medics!" Waving his hands, he shooed them off.
Fortunately, the probing questions ceased, and he was able to split from Skitter and Shielder without further ado. After bidding farewell to the stuffed animals heading for their own destination, Jaune waded over the sidewalks in the direction he recalled the elder sister—Laserdream, Shielder had told him—flying towards prior to the recent debacle.
Along the way, he caught sight of glints in the water, thinking nothing much of it at first. Barely a block down, his pace slowed, then paused altogether. A closer inspection revealed the shapes submerged below the surface.
Oh. This was what the scroll meant by 'loot'. There sure were a lot, exactly as advertised.
-o-
Jaune was making good time, for all that he clanked with every step. The landmarks guided him down familiar roads to put him on a long straightaway leading to his destination. It won't be much further—twenty minutes slogging through water at the most—until he arrives at the portal.
Not to the field hospital, though that remained his ultimate goal. He just had to take a small detour first in order to offload the pile of 'loot' that filled his arms.
A more honest description would be 'dead people's belongings'.
In normal, non-apocalyptic scenarios, he would hold no truck with such a distasteful thing as graverobbing. In a city besieged by Leviathan, and behind that the ever-looming threat of Vale and Beacon falling to the Grimm, he can learn to compromise. Battlefield acquisitions, let's call it, and it paved the foundation for the idea bouncing around in his head.
Weapons, armors, and gadgets. A knife composed from blood, a halberd that can cut things well, a laser gun, a pair of electrified gauntlets, a hardy prismatic cloak, a device that projected illusory disguises, and many other treasures of note; the cannonblade he admired counted among them. Apart, the majority of the items were nothing to rave over. Put together, they added up to ten thousand and some hundreds of Points by his mental calculations. Points aplenty to trade for an item or [Skill] of decent value, which he can use to slap Leviathan out of Brockton Bay or knock it down for good, depending.
If this world alone cannot beat the monster—risking Sundancer's life and limbs notwithstanding—then the simple solution afforded him was to go outside of it and bring back fantastical powers to even things up. And in the event Sundancer does return to the battle as their silver bullet, he'd want to provide her with better defenses and recovery options than the slapdash measures he was currently running with. Stimpaks and blood infusions did not a healer make.
The trek became easier as he moved out of the city center. The area they fought Leviathan in had transformed into a devastated wasteland of broken buildings, sinkholes, and thigh-deep water to waylay him. After cutting a parallel line to the coast for about ten minutes, he was navigating inland through neighborhoods that had suffered only minor damage from the shin-high flood and heavy rain. It alleviated the strain on his flagging strength, allowing him to maintain a steady pace.
Purity down, BW-8. Shadow Stalker down, BW-8.
Blinking in surprise, Jaune looked for signs of an armband. The search didn't take long. A group of them floated towards him, six or seven strips of cloth borne on the water surface and pulled by the currents. There were no bodies littering the road; the owners of these devices must have fled. The synthetic voice of a woman blared from each armband, and they merged together to resound across the avenue.
Evacuation Notice for BW-8. Repeat, evacuate BW-8 immediately.
The lack of tall buildings in this neighborhood granted him a stellar view as a number of high-rises began to collapse, accompanied by creaks and groans and soon an almighty crash. He stood and gaped in horror.
Smoke, dust, they bloomed in a cloud shooting for the sky, tamped down by the rain. Once it cleared, an entire section of the city skyline was gone.
Alexandria deceased, BW-8.
A lengthy silence ensued following the announcement, one without a single update on the casualties. Not long after, Jaune spotted colorful figures flying in the sky, tracing routes starting from the direction of the city center. They sped past him overhead on a course away from the city.
Unnerved, he leaned down and, carefully so as to not drop his harvest, hooked one of the armbands around his index finger. He resumed the trip while keeping his ears open for the next update.
Two blocks on and it hadn't made a peep. Instead, activities in his surroundings provided him a clue of the fallout. Pausing at intersections, he would catch the occasional glimpses of masked figures emerging from alleys and streets, running full-tilt for the horizon. Their undignified scamper spoke volumes.
The name Alexandria might mean nothing to him, but it was the name to break the final threads of morale. The battle was lost, or near enough.
Not everybody ran. It sounded a lot better than the reality. Villains—for surely these could never be the heroes, despite the heroic cut of some of their costumes—carried out excursions at times to enter places that intrigued them. Jewelry shops, most often. They would jauntily exit these buildings loaded down with valuables. Twice Jaune saw conflict occur among such opportunists. The first when one person stumbled upon another, and thought to relieve the latter of their burden. A second altercation was an argument between accomplices that devolved to a brawl after the division of spoils failed to suit all tastes.
People who an hour ago stood on the same line, how quickly they turned on each other.
He had beheld the heights of heroism in this universe. In his optimism, the actions of what he thought to be the few bad eggs were dismissed as aberrant. Now, block after block, he witnessed scenes of selfishness and greed, jackals descending on those weaker to enrich themselves. Jaune marched on, morose. In his mind, a mantra.
Sell, buy, save the day.
Sell, buy, save the day.
Sell, buy, save the day. He sang it to himself, a goal to focus on. And finally, but finally, his journey entered the home stretch.
The street he traveled upon opened up to a large, empty clearing hemmed in by four different roads with side avenues galore. At the far end, past one of the roads, lay a row of shops and homes. Taking a left up there to exit the clearing and he'd see the flickering neon sign of a convenience store. There's a looted electronics store visible from here. A couple buildings over, the mouth of an alleyway sat.
Jaune stepped out into the open space, and noticed that he wasn't alone.
A fair distance to his right, a young woman screeched to a stop, having entered from one of the other streets. Where he was located at a corner of the clearing, her position drew a direct line into the alley.
Rain plastered her dark blond hair to her back. On her face, a domino mask. The skintight outfit bestowed scant protection in this storm, water soaking into the purple-and-black fabric.
The costume was torn, here and there. She bore wounds, here and there. What bothered him was her wide-eyed stare.
She had startled after spotting him, and the mild surprise near instantly switched to a look of bewilderment as if she had never seen a human in her life. Unsure of what the problem was, then recalling his appearance—that here was a guy holding onto an armory's worth of weaponry—he wiggled the fingers on one hand to wave in a show of peaceful intent. Her expression changed not one iota.
He stared, she stared. They stood still in the rain.
Aaalrighty, then? Whatever's happening was clearly a her issue, and he had a task to complete, so he'll just carry on. Jaune turned his attention towards the alleyway.
She mirrored the motion.
Doing a double-take, Jaune whirled to face the girl. Had he imagined—no, she really was staring deep into the alley, a nondescript and uninteresting gap in the brick wall except for the portal to another universe sitting in total darkness at the end. Her head swung back and forth, bouncing from there to him then back, appearing more baffled if that was even possible. Occasionally, she would wince, face pinching with effort for reasons unknown.
He took a step towards the alley.
She did, too.
He inched a little further.
She copied him, this time maintaining eye contact all the while. Though, one eye was twitching.
He stared, she stared. Confusion abounds. What was going on?
Their odd stalemate broke at the sound of a dull roaring, like the rumbles of thunder or the hard rapping of knuckles on a door. They both spun around as one.
Distance was relative. Meaning, distance was a state of mind. Up until this moment, Jaune believed he had traveled far from the coast, an illusion cast by his arduous (yet slow) progress through submerged roads.
One look at the towering ice wall, and the spray of water shooting over the top, and in his mind the distance between him and the sea shrank down from 'safely out of harm's way' to 'major flood risks, do not enter'. He assuaged his unease by noting that the sound of waves impacting on ice reverberated across the entire length of the wall, concentrating on no particular point and thus diffused in strength. That reassurance lost some persuasiveness when the first crack appeared. It was near the far side of the barrier, however, so he reined in his panic even as water blasted a gaping hole there. He thanked his lucky stars when a second gap formed to dump water down on the area where he fought Leviathan, which he had vacated less than half an hour ago.
And then a last breach occurred. This one was a big one. It originated at the point closest to him.
Tidal waves incoming, multiple zones at risk. Evacuate red areas immediately.
Jaune checked the map on the armband, still hooked on his finger. The entire thing was colored red.
Oh no, oh no, oh no. He ran.
Across the empty lot, Jaune blazed a trail, hardly thinking of where to put his feet only that it led him closer to the portal. Beneath him, a shaking. Behind him, a roaring. To tarry was to drown. He did not dare look back.
His right leg sank down in a hidden divot. He slammed his left hard against the ground to compensate, quickly regaining balance and form to race on. Heart thundering at the realization that a simple pothole could spell his doom, Jaune begged Lady Luck to stop dunking on him already and leave him be. Whether the prayer was heard or not, he couldn't tell, but his subsequent footfalls landed on even ground. Still, he knew better than to tempt the cruel bitch by celebrating.
A car rested ahead, necessitating avoidance. Rather than wasting precious seconds to circle around, he slid over the hood, pile of loot and all. Something dropped out, making a splash as it hit the water. He ignored the pang of regret to abandon the item. Considering there's more than ten thousand Points nestled in his arms, he can spare to lose one or two. The sound of the approaching tidal wave clinched the decision. It sounded a ways off, but the rising volume served as proof of the armband's warning. That tsunami was headed here.
Reaching the other side of the clearing in record time, Jaune proceeded to cross the road without delay, dodging debris floating by with near prescient intuition. He got to around the middle of the avenue, and it's there that the errant thought struck him.
Where was the other person? He chanced a look.
Whatever her superpower, physical prowess it was not, Luck, neither.
His running was running; he had zoomed over the land on speedy feet. Charged up with adrenaline, the weight he carried felt light as feathers. In contrast, hers was a stumbling jog, poor athleticism leading to her arms windmilling for balance whenever she slips, and it's often that she did. Some sort of injury was at play, as seen in the swaying gait and the head being held in hands. Her narrowed eyes struggled to see…something. She had barely traversed past the midpoint.
Jaune performed a quick eyeball calculation. She's too slow to make it. The wave was too fast, too near.
Somehow, someway, even though she had not turned her head to see for herself, the girl also figured out the truth. Her expression transformed into that of pure, stricken terror.
Then, suddenly, the fear drained from her face. Her pace lagged, soon coming to a complete stop altogether. With shoulders slumped, a sigh followed.
Wait, was she—?
A deep breath helped her to regain composure. Trembling hands clenched and unclenched until she moved them down to place on either hips. Her eyes caught his for a brief moment, before they closed.
She was.
Her expression said it best. Serene, but for the slight quaver to her lips. Acceptance, despite being afraid. She has grasped the foregone conclusion. Rather than wailing or cursing her unfair fate, she chose to let it be.
The wave rushed onward. This close, it deafened all other sounds. The land ahead of it quaked; walls and roofs crumbled as it arrived. In the churning, roiling motion that uprooted trees and swept buildings along in the water's wake, one could so easily ascribe a sentience to the boundless destruction, imagining that the tsunami held an unabating rage for all that laid in its path. Where it touched, nothing remained but ruins.
Before that… before the coming end, the girl raised her head to face the sky, and she showed the world a wide, toothy grin. Because, sometimes, you couldn't do anything else.
The wave rolled towards her, three city blocks off. Two blocks. One.
And Jaune was beside her, scooping the girl into his empty arms, running back the way he came.
He rushed through a field of strewn treasures. A red crystal knife shimmered as it laid sunken beneath the water. An unnaturally sharp halberd had embedded itself deep in the road. A beautiful cloak floated down the street. A device had malfunctioned from hitting the ground and now spat out holograms at random. The cannonblade that had so enamored him, he no longer paid it any mind.
A face stared up at him in blank astonishment, unable to fathom what he did. Honestly, neither could he.
He had a mission with the fate of Vale on the line. Another, of Brockton Bay. For their sake he must survive. To succeed, he should be prepared to do anything, even if it involves killing and stealing. He needed to harden his heart.
All the people of his home put on a scale against this one life. All the people of Brockton Bay against her. Either should have been obvious in their answer, no hard mathematics required. They mattered more.
The man who can understand that was the man these worlds called for, a true protagonist who's cold and logical, able to control the situation with his piercing intellect and create plans that ran several steps ahead of everyone else. Such a man always knew the optimal route to attain his goal. A hero, for whom the right choices came easy.
It's too bad then, that he could not be that man. Just a student, a trainee of a Huntsman, who too often mistook what was easy for what was right. Logic and him never really got on, and he lacked the fortitude to be heartless.
The means of victory, ten thousand Points and change. It was the purpose of his journey to this place, and so close to the finish line, he tossed it all to the wayside for the tidal wave to take, exchanged for the chance to save a stranger.
Because, sometimes, you couldn't do anything else. Because these little souls, they mattered.
The crashing waters chased his heels. The dark alley loomed ahead. He darted inside.
The portal, detecting his presence, flared to life. A hundred colors swirled on the brick wall to light up his path. Almost there, he was almost there.
A swift, savage force swept out his legs. The tidal wave had caught him first.
Jaune curled around the bundle in his arms, tucking her head into the center of his chest. He tried to draw a breath. The tsunami slammed against his back, knocking out the air in his lungs. The world plunged into darkness as water engulfed him on all sides.
Up was down, down was up. The current slammed him on the concrete, grabbed him and tossed him at a wall. He cracked his head on the bricks. Feeling himself pushed forward, afraid the person he held would take the impact, he kicked out with a leg. Ramrod straight, it struck a hard surface head on to send pain shooting up the entire length, bones rattling. An object borne by the wave—sharp, unnaturally so—sliced him on the hip to elicit a cry, a mistake as seawater tried to rush in. He forced himself to spit it out, his lungs screaming at him that he needed to breathe in something, anything. Stubbornly, and not wishing to die, he fought the instinct and pressed his mouth shut even as pain bloomed from within.
And then, with a myriad of colors filling his vision, he was out. Out of the water. Out of the universe. Emerging inside a gray room.
Halfway through, he felt a strain on his arms, like he was pulling a massive weight with him instead of a girl. The gateway he was stuck in shook and flickered ominously, until he wondered if it was going to throw him back to drown. To his great relief, the portal, accompanied by the sensation of a rubber band snapping, asserted itself and spat the both of them across the room.
He twisted to take the impact on his back, hit the wall with a boom to rattle the room, and crashed to the ground on his rear. Dizzy and nauseous, he inhaled great gulps of air. Panic spiked when he looked down and saw that the girl's eyes were closed. It was followed by relief at the sound of her breathing. She was unconscious, but alive.
He was alive, too, in a dry room with all the water blocked on the other side. Laughter bubbled up in his chest, released as he threw back his head and let out a shout of elation.
Elation became horror as the portal began to shrink. Letting the girl roll to the floor, Jaune scrambled to his feet.
"Nonono!" Rushing headlong to the swirling circle, he put out a hand to stop it from closing, to push through, to—
His hand crashed against an invisible barrier, fingers twisting painfully. He slammed a fist on the same spot, a useless gesture.
"I still need to go back! I'm not done yet! STOP!" He cried to no avail. The portal was no longer acting as a gate, but a window growing smaller with each passing second. From a circle that can fit four people marching abreast, to the size of his dorm's door, to a handspan gap just above the alley's waterline.
His last glimpse of that universe, of Worm, was the scene of a golden figure far in the distance floating in midair and the embodiment of nature's wrath, Leviathan, perched atop a high-rise. A beam shot from the figure to descend upon the beast. Following it, the first rays of sunlight, so like hers, broke through the clouds as the sky started to clear up, just as the portal winked out.
In utter silence, his shaking hands reached for the Company scroll. He opened the Jump Portal app just in time to see the textbox containing the details of the Instance disappear, leaving an empty page where a world should be.
So. That's the rule, is it? One time in. One time out. No second chance.
Jaune rocked on his heels, falling back to lay flat on the floor. He stared blankly at the white ceiling. Moisture swam in his eyes. There was so much left undone. He thought of his failures, of the many mistakes he committed, and the tears fell free.
But then, he thought about his successes. Events that would have unfolded differently had he not been there or people who might have died had he never met them. Things went wrong, yet things went right. On a face streaked with tears, a small smile formed.
Joy that he had gone, sorrow for what he had seen, regrets that he could not stay, he allowed the opposing feelings to dwell in his heart, crying and laughing as he recalled the scant few hours that felt like days. It was a hell of a time.
And after the tears have dried and the laughter has faded, he sat up once more, looking to where a portal had rested. There used to be a city there, just waiting on the other side. To it, he bade farewell.
Farewell to a world where superheroes die. Where they were vain, petty people ready to turn on each other, and the day was never won. A Grimmless land nevertheless filled with beasts of many stripes.
Farewell to a world where a villain fought for a city, and wished to never kill. Who took a chance on a stranger, and called him friend.
What a horrible world. If only he could go back again.
Jaune sighed.
Aah. Aaaah, it's such a shame. I was looking forward to dancing with her.
-o-
In a quiet, gray room, a girl awoke from her slumber, eyelashes fluttering delicately. Sitting up, she beheld her savior, a device of some sort in his hand.
"Hey there, you. Feeling al–"
Her gaze flicked to the rest of the room, bouncing from wall to corner to window before settling back on him, eyes trailing up and down his form.
Such a pretty green, so went the thought in the boy's mind.
Then, those same green eyes proceeded to roll to the back of her head. She tipped backward and fell flat on the floor, unconscious.
Jaune stared, nonplussed. Was it something he said?
A shake of her arm, a tap on her cheek, he tried various ways to rouse her. A minute or two later saw her stirring. The first thing in her sight, was him.
"Are you o–"
Theeeere she goes again. Out like a light.
Is that her superpower? Fainting spells?
This could be a problem.
Universe: Worm (divergent). Location: Brockton Bay. Event: Leviathan.
Loot acquired: a narcoleptic girl
Instance Failed(?)
Author's Notes: Jaune Arc accidently played the game right, embracing waifu over loot.
And that's the end of his first foray into Worm. Instances are meant to be short episodes, whereas Permanent Worlds will be the ones he can stick around for longer periods of time. It's too bad that he didn't know all the rules going in. And wasn't OP enough to hard-counter the grimdark. Hopefully he'll learn to pick a happier place on the next go.
Poor Narcolepsy Girl– I mean, Tattletale. She wakes up, sees the guy that makes no sense to her power, the device connected to every world, the room built by alien hands, the window view of what is clearly not her world, and her power of super observation goes haywire to result in the mental equivalent of a sledgehammer to the back of her head, thus knocking her out. Then she wakes up, sees the guy that…and so on, and so on.
For those who are unfamiliar with Worm, Lisa Wilborn aka Tattletale is the kind of innocent, demure, and supportive gal who will be ever so sweet to Jaune. Honest. Really, I'm not lying. Ask anyone who has read Worm, they'll tell you.
There's some good art of Sundancer and Tattletale by an artist called LinaLeeZ, if you would like a mental image.
As for that particular Worm AU, who knows how it'd go. Skitter with Aura and an extra superpower (and the ability to grant that to other people)? She'll probably use it as intended and not do anything drastic. Then again, she's nuts.
Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset. What follows a sunset?
