Faralis
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Such a nice boat!
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Sneaking His Way into the Multiverse (RWBY Jaune, WC-lite mechanics)
- Thread starter LazyAutumnMoon
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ExpWarlock
Exp
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A bit Late but Thanks for the Chapter!!!
I haven't seen Raildex but as far as I know, doesn't the Imagine Breaker explicitly not negate soul stuff, because they are natural?
Keep Cooking King!
I haven't seen Raildex but as far as I know, doesn't the Imagine Breaker explicitly not negate soul stuff, because they are natural?
Keep Cooking King!
Agent Orange
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Clearly this means that souls of Remnant are unnatural. Jaune is due an existential crisis.
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LazyAutumnMoon
We all need Sundancer in our life.
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Hope you had fun reading it!
Imagine Breaker functions as a reference point for the world as it should be, originally and naturally, and returns things to that state. Jaune as a human is natural, his soul is natural, but the outward expression of it is not, at least in the world that Imagine Breaker references. As a thing that should not exist, the Aura gets negated up to that dividing point where outer Aura and inner soul meet.
In essence, the underlying source--such as souls, ley lines, etc.--remains unaffected, while the 'magic spells' derived from those gets scraped away by Imagine Breaker.
Agent Orange
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If only there was a Pyrrha around to unlock his aura again
Lisa: "So you need me to 'fill you with my essence'. Is that what you're saying~'
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Chapter 23: A Certain Otherworld Huntsman - Someone_Else's_War
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LazyAutumnMoon
We all need Sundancer in our life.
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On a street that was already somewhat sparse, there now remained two people standing beneath an overcast sky. Across their view, two dozen or so other formerly upright individuals sprawled out on the sidewalks, unmoving. Their belongings laid nearby, purses spilling their contents and phones cracked from impacting the pavement. Meanwhile, the last of the cars had finished taking the corner, having missed the incident due to the speed at which they traveled—or maybe they decided it wasn't their problem, Jaune thought rather uncharitably. In any case, their exit left behind a quiet so stark that he could hear his own heartbeat, and that of Tattletale.
He opened his mouth, but did not know quite what to say. His jaw simply hung there for a time. Tattletale found her voice first.
"This might be a good time to leave."
That got his mouth working again. Jaune whirled towards Tattletale. "No way!" He gestured at the policeman. The Company scroll materialized in his empty hand a second later. "We have to help them. I'll pick up a set of stimpaks."
Before he could enter the Marketplace, Tattletale slapped her hand over the screen.
"Are you dumb? Jaune, whatever is happening could hit us next. We need to protect ourselves before we think about others—stop that!" she growled as he jerked the device away from her grip. She leapt after it, clamping on with both hands. "We can't spend our Points willy-nilly on random strangers. It's a waste."
"Well, we have to do something," he said.
The look she gave him, a slight shake of the head as her eyebrows scrunched, pretty sufficiently conveyed that in her opinion they didn't have to do a damn thing. He returned an identical expression, denying her denial. This was a clear emergency, and they were here, right here, able to assist.
Seeing that he won't back down, she changed tack. "You don't even have any Points left," she reminded him. "The entire balance is mine at the moment, remember?"
Jaune stopped short.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. So maybe ask first?" She raised a hand to prevent him from doing just that. "And the answer's still no, because you need to calm down and think. There's no guarantee the stimpaks would fix them—it's not a panacea for all ailments. We have too little to go on, and jumping the gun could do more harm than good. We need information. Alright?"
He had no good reply, not when a loud and growing part within his mind told him to listen since she was making a lot of sense, both in terms of him using funds belonging to his companion and that he was running blind. It gnawed at the side of him in control, the part that had shifted to crisis mode and demanded action. Almost despite himself, he dialed back the impulse. A newfound state of uncertainty replaced it to leave him dithering, a helpless glance alternating between the prone body and Tattletale.
She began working his fingers loose from the scroll. Her voice crooned in his ear, soft and soothing. Beguiling. "We'll take a look at the situation, scope it out. See if it's within our ability to affect, or whether it's better—whether it's tactically sound to retreat and consider our options. Weren't you a team leader? Didn't anyone ever tell you that you have to be mindful of your team's wellbeing?"
Ren did, after a whole long series of disastrous events in Beacon's first month that nearly cracked the team. He had the right of it back then, and Tattletale had the right of it here.
Jaune felt all the worse for that. He should have taken the lesson to heart from the first go-round.
"Yeah, that's…You make a good point. That was my bad, Tattletale. "
She grinned. "I know. I always do. Stay where you are, and give me a bit to figure things out."
Tucking the Company scroll away in her purse, Tattletale proceeded to sweep her gaze across their surroundings, allowing a measure of her superpower to run free. She bent down to peer closer at the policeman, then darted over to a nearby pedestrian to compare their conditions. A look across the street noted the group of people collapsed in one big heap at the windows of an electronics store, the televisions on display still broadcasting without an audience.
"Alive. All alive," she concluded for his benefit. "No visible wounds, no signs of debilitating pain, but it is internal. Total loss of muscle control. Skin turning bluish." She cocked an ear towards the policeman. The absence of ambient city noise allowed her to hear much more. "Rapid heartbeat, way higher than ours. These are symptoms of oxygen deprivation—"
"They're not breathing?" Jaune asked. His own heart rate started picking up at the news. People not breathing usually preceded people not living.
Tattletale shook her head. "They are, the oxygen is just not reaching their lungs in proportion to what they inhale—somehow—and the body reacts by putting them in a near-death—a low-power state to correspond with the amount of oxygen they're receiving." Absent-mindedly, she winded a lock of hair around her fingers, playing with it as she paced, eyes flickering from one spot to another. "Most likely suspects for those types of physical reactions in a human are capes with a Master, Shaker, or Tinker power, poisons, or pathogens—oh god, this sounds like Bonesaw." Tattletale looked as if she wanted to throw up.
Jaune asked the obvious question, "Is it Bonesaw?"
"Don't say that!" Her voice hit a high, almost squeaky pitch on that one. "She...We're in another universe and her specialty isn't dimension travel, so it's not possible. Maybe a local esper equivalent." She didn't seem happy about that prospect, either. "But if it was a cape, they would have hit us along with everybody."
"Or they're saving us for later."
"Please, please, stop talking."
Jaune mimed zipping his mouth shut.
Tattletale took a deep breath to center herself. "It's not a cape," she declared. "Unless they were in the bathroom stall next to ours to see the portal appear, we haven't shown anything big and flashy that could compare to what espers can do. There's no value in going after us for our abilities, and even if there were, an indiscriminate attack on this many people would bring a ton of attention down on the perpetrator. There are easier methods, and better targets." She looked up at him. "Poisons or pathogens, then."
Jaune shrugged, not arguing. She nodded like he had given an actual response, and resumed pacing.
"Airborne? No, not the route it took. We're fine. Something in the city water supply, accumulated through daily intakes…but the people in the cars that drove away didn't crash, meaning their health wasn't being affected by it." She wandered past him to the open car door of the police van, peeking in. "Another one here. His partner." She indicated the policeman on the ground. "Identical condition. Her hand's extended. She was fiddling with the police radio set when she fell unconscious. Huh, a wedding ring. Picture on dashboard. Kids. Hers. They would have fallen sick days earlier if water and foodstuff were contaminated to the point it knocks out an adult, and this occurred without warning. She's at her job, in peak physical health. They were okay this morning when she left. Out of school and already married with kids—late thirties? Are you kidding me!?"
"What's wrong?" Jaune went over to the car, peering inside. The policewoman was there, as Tattletale said, slumped to the side with her head dangling. She did not have the helmet on like her partner—it was suspended from a hook attached to the van's ceiling, out of the way but within easy reach. Besides a faint bluish tint, she seemed merely asleep.
"What's wrong?" Tattletale echoed him, raging. "Her face! Her figure! She looks way too young for someone pushing forty!"
Jaune studied the officer one more time.
"Looks about right to me," he said. He'd put the woman as comparable in age to Glynda Goodwitch, the vice-headmistress of Beacon.
Realization dawned for Tattletale, and she scoffed. "Oh, great. I get it now. This is that thing again, isn't it? Where this isn't magazine model attractive in your world."
"Oh, no," Jaune denied. "She's pretty." Another comparable attribute to Glynda Goodwitch. She even has that stern, no-nonsense librarian impression. With glasses.
Hot.
Tattletale stared from the woman to Jaune. She then crossed her arms, and pouted. "Pretty, he says. Just pretty." Her voice faded to soft grumbles. "Different universes…complete bull…unfair…"
"This really is not the time, Tattletale."
"Screw you!"
He let that one pass, because in a flash he got why she was annoyed. The current world shared one specific aspect with Remnant: their levels of beauty lied close enough to each other for him to consider it normal, and for Tattletale to see it as unusual. That would explain why he had received only a handful of looks for the whole morning, and nothing more substantial came of it other than a passing comment on his blond hair—a trait far more common in foreigners than the Japanese, as he heard from Kamijou. Whereas Earth Bet, Dunwall, and Steelport of Saints Row had vaunted him to pretty boy status, here he blended in with the populace. Here, he was…mid.
And thus, Jaune's ego shrank one size smaller that day.
"I prefer the other Earths," he said, depressed.
"God, I do, too," agreed Tattletale, for a similar yet subtly different reason.
Still, his point stood. For the time being, they had bigger problems to deal with, so he shoved aside the issue of his appearance—not that there was anything wrong with it, mind you. What? Who's insecure? Shut up!—and returned to the matter at hand. Namely, the mystery of the falling bodies.
The clues given didn't offer much to him that Tattletale hadn't stated outright, although she might get further with them. He tried, nevertheless. Their group of two fell into quiet contemplation, their thoughts accompanied only by the droning murmur of the police radio.
They both found their gazes drifting towards it.
As Tattletale deduced, the policewoman's hand sort of extended in the direction of the communications set, suggesting she could have been operating the device in the moments leading up to the incident that incapacitated her and everyone else. A message was playing on it now, barely audible. An automated one judging by the monotone cadence.
The police might have an idea of the situation, was his thinking. Jaune withdrew his new phone from his pocket, tapping to the translation app.
That was when Tattletale pounced on his back to stop him, her words spilling out in a rush. "Wait, hold on, I know how it happened, the vector of attack is through media!"
"...Eh?" Jaune parsed that statement. "You're saying it's, what, like those flashing videos that can trigger epilepsy?"
"It makes sense. Look."
Pulling him away from the van, she pointed one by one at the nearby victims. According to her running commentary, a common thread connected them: each had a phone in hand or fallen next to them. Tattletale then directed his attention at the electronics store. Why would there be a whole group of people struck down at that spot, notably with some of them not carrying phones? The televisions behind the window were blaring the news. As for the police officers…
"The radio, clearly. The man fell. His partner saw it. She realized why and tried to shut off the volume before it got to her, only it was too late and that was that. Total wipeout, barring us."
Finished, Tattletale planted her hands on her hips, and waited for his reaction.
"Okay, that's a good theory," Jaune said. Damn good, in fact. He did not have a better one. There was one problem. "That said, how?"
Words can hurt. But like this?
"Some kind of memetic image," Tattletale suggested. "Maybe a specific sequence of words. People see it, or hear it, then they fall over unconscious."
And by the time a person figured out they're under attack, it would already be too late.
Jaune gulped. "The radio was on. Are we in danger?"
He wondered whether turning on Blank would grant him protection from this type of thing. The only way to know was to face it head on, a rather ill-advised course of action when failure could put him flat on the ground.
Turning it on could shield him. Keeping it off allowed Tattletale full use of her power, an alternative approach to prevent danger. Choices, choices.
"We've lasted this long, so I think we should be okay," Tattletale assured him. "It might be due to our lack of fluency in Japanese. We recognize the message as mere noises, and don't understand what was said. Same goes for the TVs. At this distance, we're not picking up the details, and I bet money that's countering the effect. We're safe," she stated with greater surety.
"Except that means we can't find any details of what the threat is and how to deal with it, or we'll go the same way as these guys."
"Which is why we should leave."
Man, he walked right into that one, didn't he?
"Let's not be hasty," he said.
"Hasty ones go home alive, slowpokes get eaten by bears," was her blithe reply. "Seriously, Jaune. We don't have the budget to produce a cure for these people, if there even is an effective cure in the Marketplace. This is something that requires an organized response from a government, millions of dollars, and weeks of devising a solution. Not two people with a time limit of less than half a day. At this stage, the scale is too far beyond us. What can we do?"
He supposed she intended it a rhetorical question. However, Jaune had an answer.
"We can ensure that the authorities are informed of the attack. They might not know yet, and like you just said, speed matters. The quicker they respond, the quicker they can contain its spread."
Tattletale flapped her mouth wordlessly, before she threw her hands in the air. "Oh, come on!" she whined. "I won that and you know it. Don't turn around and pretend I helped to make your point!"
"It's one detour," Jaune tried. He fished out his phone, and clumsily navigated the unfamiliar menu to the map app. He typed in a search, then showed the result to Tattletale. "There's a police station a few blocks from here, can we give it a shot? I doubt it would take long."
"Tch. Why are you so hung up on this?" Tattletale crossed her arms and looked at him in challenge, a stubborn set to her jaw. It told Jaune that he had yet to persuade her, for safety mattered more to the girl than strangers. He couldn't blame her. Unlike him, she possessed a better frame of reference for events of this nature—or worse, depending on how one looked at it. Whoever Bonesaw was, they inspired dread from a universe away.
To overcome that fear, he needed a surefire argument. Too bad he didn't have one.
Which finally led him to consider her question about his motivation in seriousness. Because she's being stubborn, yeah, but so was he. Why?
The answer came easy.
"Kamijou and Misaka may get caught up in the attack if we leave things alone," he said.
Tattletale stared, face a total blank.
"And this is clearly a bad thing," He added once the silence had stretched a bit too long.
"...Clearly."
The nod said she agreed with him. The tone said she held some reservations that she won't admit out loud.
Good enough. He'd take it.
Jaune mumbled a quiet apology to the people lying at his feet that he couldn't do much for, then spun on his heels and set off before Tattletale changed her mind. A few seconds later, he heard the sounds of light footsteps catching up, until she matched pace beside him.
Walking the city streets, Jaune got a view of how far the attack had extended at this point in time. By his reckon, the number of casualties remained pretty low considering the full population, fueling his optimism that they had a buffer ahead of it hitting critical mass. Not many people browsed the news in the early afternoon, and those struck through infected sites on their phones were left in no state to bring the attention of others to the same content. What Tattletale theorized to be a memetic virus had to wait for its prey, akin to a carnivorous plant.
The bad thing was, the prey kept coming. Along their route, Jaune spotted others who were up and awake. Despite the uncertainty he saw on their faces at this situation, it's heartening the amount of people that would dash over to a stranger to check on them.
It's also a little problematic, because…
"Stop, stop, stop, don't look! Don't—"
The office worker did the complete opposite of Jaune's warning, scanning the immediate area to end up looking at the phone. He collapsed on his side.
A distance apart from the new victim, one arm still outstretched, Jaune sighed. "Never mind."
"He didn't realize what you were talking about. Try telling the next person to specifically avoid the phone," Tattletale suggested. Jaune nodded, grateful for the advice.
Further up the road, an opportunity to put it in practice appeared as he noticed a kind-hearted student padding towards a body slumped against the wall of a building, ready to lend the victim aid.
"Hey! Whatever you do, don't look at the phone," he shouted to her, and his own phone projected the translation at a louder volume—a nifty feature that ensured others would hear him as if he had spoken in an understandable language. "I repeat, don't look at the phooone!"
The student said something—he'd guess "Phone?" in Japanese—and she then zoned in on the device. Down she went.
Tattletale applauded. "Wooow. You are literally making things worse, Jaune. Stop helping."
That gut punch sent Jaune to his knees, his face buried in his hands in utter exasperation.
"Tattletale, what is wrong with people?"
Ceasing her clapping, she gave a rueful chuckle. "It's psychology. When you warn someone of danger without describing the threat, they're going to search for where it's coming from so they can defend themselves against it. If you instead point to the threat, they can't help but focus on it, thinking that keeping the source of the danger in their sight will allow them to better avoid harm."
"Damn you, psychology…"
In a way, the concept was a familiar one. That exact principle applied too well to cases of Grimm. During an attack, the most singularly useless piece of advice was one that went along the line of "Listen, everybody. Ravening hordes of Grimm are ramming the walls. Oh, but don't worry or panic!" Saying that would just cause everyone in the shelter to worry and panic, and the negative emotions to draw in more Grimm. Yet in the absence of directions, the people would crane their ears, trying to hear outside, their imaginations painting nightmarish scenes that sent them slipping into despair. In the end, fear grew stronger anyway.
Forewarning, frankness, isolation, ignorance. None of these approaches ever truly worked as a solution. There's no good answer, then or now.
Nevertheless, Jaune gave a few additional attempts, hoping for different results. He threw in the towel when he ran out of volunteers. Their journey proceeded without interruptions from then on, albeit with a lot more embarrassment on Jaune's part.
"I mean, they would have gotten infected by the virus in any case, so it's not my fault."
"Yup," came Tattletale's chipper reply.
"...Who am I kidding? It's completely my fault."
"Oh, yeah. Definitely," she agreed, sounding all too cheerful about it and not even bothering to make him feel better. Jaune exhaled a long, suffering breath.
Rallying, he said. "Shouldn't people be smarter than this, though? So, okay, I've met idiots before—hell, nobody considers me a paragon of intellectual thoughts—but my instructions were clear! They're dead simple to understand!"
He'd like to think that he would have listened to someone screaming for him to shut his eyes. Wouldn't he?
Then again, knowing himself…
Ugh. Stupid psychology.
"You sweet summer child." Tattletale skipped ahead, then spun to walk backward, facing him. "Here's the truth, Jaune." She held up one hand in a v-sign. "There are two types of people in the world: Those dumber than me, and those who don't yet realize they're dumber than me."
"Where do you fall in that equation?" He asked, confused.
"I'm above it. Shut up. My point is—"
What her point was, she never elaborated on, falling quiet as she peered curiously past Jaune's shoulder. He turned to follow her gaze.
At some point, a woman had entered the street from a side alley. She had noticed the pair, but was in no hurry to reach them, strolling along at a sedate pace in the middle of the road. Robes of a garish yellow and brown assaulted the eyes of anyone who looked at her, but that would be fast forgotten once a person took in her facial features. Piercings dotted her visage, following no sense of rhyme or reason that Jaune could discern; it broke up the symmetry into something akin to a cracked window. Heavy makeup around the eyes lent her the impression of a raccoon. On her shoulder rested a long warhammer, wrapped in barbed wires. A wide, maddened smile crossed her lips.
Upon seeing this person, a rush of relief washed over Jaune.
You can't tell him that's not a Huntress, or the local equivalent.
Next to him, Tattletale piped up, half to herself, "The clothes she wears…the way she stalks instead of walks is practiced…and the piercings, their placements are deliberate…It's all to appear unpleasant for others." A scoff. "Heh. That's adorable. She should meet Skitter." She glanced at Jaune. "Why isn't it working on you, though?" she asked as an aside.
"I've seen wilder getups at Beacon," he said, shrugging. Images flashed by. A legion of topless mohawk guys. The month where spiky shoulder pads were in vogue. A cult—their team claimed to be an aspiring music band, but nobody believed them—that swore by frilly skirts paired with rebreather masks. One girl who always looked like she came out of a hospital room that morning, wreathed in bandages splattered with crimson (red dye). "Don't overanalyze it, Tattletale—this is fashion." Where there existed neither rules nor taboo.
"Are you sure?" Tattletale was unconvinced.
"It tracks with my world, at least. Don't you have something similar with the costumes your heroes and villains wear?" Taking it upon himself to be polite, Jaune turned back to the woman, waving to her. "Are you from the city government?" he called out. The app spat out a translation.
"No." The woman hadn't said a word. That answer came courtesy of the girl at his side, and her superpower.
"Independently contracted, then?" he mused under his breath. Getting real Huntress vibes here. Louder, he said, "Is there anything we can assist you with?"
Once again, his partner read ahead of the script, and replied in place of the stranger. "No."
"I think she'd prefer to speak for herself, Tattletale," he said with a slight note of reprimand. Tattletale blew a raspberry at him.
At that moment, the woman opened her mouth. A delicate metal chain unfurled, stretching to waist height and attached to an unusually long tongue by a piercing. She wagged the tongue in an undulating (and frankly lewd) manner, the grin splitting even wider, causing the cross connected to the end of the chain to dangle back and forth.
"Or maybe not."
But then, the woman confirmed his earlier thought, finally responding.
"Heathen tongues spoken by heathen means, never have I seen a heretic whose addled brain is so far gone that he needed a machine to talk in his place. As expected of this shitty den of sin," she called across the remaining distance.
Well. That sure was something.
"Hello, my name is Jaune, it's nice to meet you," he said, a little sarcastically. Was it painful for other people to use normal greetings? "You can also just say 'city' and 'young people these days,' you know. They're much politer terms for the same thing."
The woman rolled her eyes. Only, in an over-exaggerated motion that looked odd to him. "Leave it to a degenerate wallowing in ignorance—"
"Again, rude."
"—to quibble over the minor details." The metal chain clinked and jangled as she spoke. "Did it even occur to you to wonder who I am?"
Jaune frowned at the nasty attitude that the woman seemed to insist upon. It went further than the level of, say, an Annoying Blonde he cared to name. Tattletale may be exasperating at times, but she was cute in comparison to this woman.
He then recalled the incident where Tattletale sent him spiraling into a pit of despair, ready to go back to Remnant and jump on the fire lady's sword, and he grew puzzled at how this woman could bother him even more while saying a lot less. Her words lacked the barbs and the bitter truths. They were mere abuse, hurled with little regard. Empty, in essence. Yet he felt worse for it than anything Tattletale had ever said of him.
It's a difference in intensity that he found hard to explain. Her speech and demeanor created an oppressive atmosphere that chafes at him in an uncomfortable way, making him feel as if it was becoming harder to breathe.
Tattletale startled, whipping her head in his direction. She studied him, head cocked to listen intently.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Ignoring him, she pursed her lips in thought. Her gaze then flickered towards something off to the side of the road. Green eyes grew wider. She grinned.
Without an explanation, Jaune was left shaking his head at the strange behavior. He soon refocused on the woman in yellow to continue the conversation. "Who are you, then?"
"Took you fucking long enough." Arrogantly, she swept her arms out wide. "Vento of the Front, and I am the one—"
A blonde head of hair appeared in his vision.
"Hey, Jaune!" Tattletale shouted, clapping her hands together an inch from his face to make him blink. She was on tiptoes, taking light hops to get on his eye level.
"What the—" Jaune moved to the left. She hopped one step over. He slid to the right, and she followed suit to once again plonk herself in front of him. "Tattletale, could you move?" he asked, tilting this way and that to peek around her, straining his ear to catch what the woman named Vento was saying.
"...magic…science…declaration of…"
"What was that?" he said, getting the odd feeling that he was missing critical exposition.
With a growl, the woman tried to repeat her words, growing visibly annoyed at the head bobbing up and down, partially blocking her and Jaune's views of each other.
"Forget the weirdo, Jaune," Tattletale ordered, displaying a total lack of self-awareness. She spun towards Vento, pointing with her finger. "She's a poor, out of touch lady that hasn't changed her phone in years. One of those luddites that thinks we lived better lives in the Middle Ages."
What do those words mean, he wanted to ask first and foremost.
Vento understood them, and for a beat, she seemed at a loss of what to make of the accusation. However, she recovered quickly, and snarled back at Tattletale, "If it wasn't for the false promises of science—"
"Ha! I knew it!" Tattletale crowed, triumphant. "See that, Jaune? I was right. And check out her clothes. She's larping as a peasant in the middle of the city. Hilarious!"
Now Jaune just felt bad for the woman, being so abused by his companion.
Leaning down next to Tattletale's ear, he whispered, "Hey, could you ease up? She might have been a little ill-mannered, but…" Jaune trailed off, and leaned further forward in order to look Tattletale in the eye. The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a small smile. "Hang on, are you bullying her because she was mean to me?"
Tattletale balked, "Wha—no!" She whirled around to face him, and skipped a step away to create a space between them. "Like hell I was. I'm doing this because—" Her lips pressed together.
"Because?"
"Not important. Not relevant. I'll tell you later."
"Uh-huh," he said, amused. Tattletale shoved him, scowling.
"Shush. Let me work." Plastering on a saccharine smile, she turned to Vento.
"Done, are we?" Vento said, cocking an eyebrow. "I suppose that explains things well enough. Two dogs in—"
A blonde head of hair appeared in his vision.
"Hey, Jaune!"
"—FUCK!" Vento screamed, overcome by an incandescent rage.
"I am so, so sorry about her." Jaune covered his face in embarrassment. "She's not normally like this," he tacked on to help salvage the situation.
It wasn't a complete lie, either. The girl tended to rub people the wrong way, but he hasn't seen her do it in such an obvious, over-the-top fashion. The idea he proposed, that she took offense for his sake, was voiced half in jest, and even if true, he doubted she would have dialed it up to this degree. It's a deliberate act, then, mirroring—and exceeding—the behavior exhibited by Vento. Which begged the question of why.
A tug on his sleeves made him look up. It was Tattletale.
"Don't ask why."
"You're doing that thing again." The mind-reading that's supposedly not mind-reading.
"Heh, I know. So, look, you want me to let up on her. I'm willing to do that."
"Really?"
She nodded, but her eyes weren't on him. They're darting to the side, sending glances past her shoulder.
He tried to look, too. In response, she grabbed his chin and pulled so he could only see her.
"One thing, though. I need you to obey what I say next without talking back and without thinking. Can you?"
"Ehhh…" Making promises like that sounded like the kind of decision that got past Arcs in trouble.
"Jaune, I'm serious."
A simple phrase, with no strong inflection. It changed everything.
Losing all trace of humor, he stared her dead in the eyes. "Okay. Say it."
She pointed behind him. "I want to be three blocks that way, as fast as you ca–an!" Her voice ended with a high-pitched squeak as Jaune had already lifted her on a shoulder with one hand and—with a twist of his hips—launched [Third Arm] with the other. It latched onto a parked car, yanking them both in that direction.
His shoes scraped against the asphalt, barely keeping him from falling on his face as he slid along the road. Near the end of the maneuver, he canceled the power and pushed from the ground, vaulting over the car to get to the other side. He hit the ground running.
Something hit the car, and Jaune heard the sound of tearing metal.
"What was that?" he yelled, forgetting that he was supposed to not ask questions.
"Just the wind~" Tattletale singsonged, before she shifted position. He had no idea what she was doing, but she was being very animated in doing it. Immediately after, there came a scream from further back.
"What did you do to set her off!?"
"Nothing~"
"You have a lot of explaining to do once we're done!"
"Nope."
Jaune forewent a rebuttal, too occupied by running. He had started well, but the exertion was hitting him earlier than should be possible. By the midpoint mark, he was huffing and puffing, and what should have been an easy sprint felt like he had weights strapped to his ankle—a type of training Pyrrha loved to use. He pushed through it, dismissing it as an off day.
Off day or not, he was still a lot faster than someone swaddled in ankle-length robes, and Vento's vulgar curses soon faded in the distance. Three blocks down the road, Tattletale directed him around the corner, then into the first alleyway they saw, encouraging him to go just a bit further. He complied without protest on both counts, at this point feeling rather woozy and sucking in great, heaving breaths with each stride. The lightheadedness stifled any desire to speak or think. Only once they went deep inside the alley did Tattletale grant him blessed relief by telling him he could stop. Placing her back on the ground, he leaned on the wall. Sweat poured down his brow as he fell into a coughing fit, wheezing like a lifelong smoker.
Between gulps of air, he gestured, and a water bottle appeared, purchased during their shopping foray. Greedily, he drank it down, draining the bottle before tossing it in a nearby dumpster. Now somewhat refreshed, another hand motion summoned his scroll, where he pulled up the Aura meter function. It left him scratching his head.
There was Aura. A quarter full and still recovering since he parted ways with Kamijou. The rate at which he regained Aura aligned with past experiences. Things seemed normal, meaning the exercise should have been a breeze. Even a sliver of it enabled superhuman feats, doubly so for a person his age. Except, he hadn't run like a man in his prime. He ran like Peter Port after a full lunch course.
One possibility reared its head. Jaune flicked on [Blank].
Nothing happened. He was still winded. Getting better, but not 'throwing off the shackles of a mind worm' better.
Had the memetic virus not gotten him after all, or were they wrong in their assumption, and it worked via other means?
As has become common, he looked to Tattletale for an answer.
"Hehehe! Oh, man, that was great! I won! Ahahaha!"
She's…a little distracted.
Tattletale, for reasons beyond comprehension, was celebrating. Her laughter rang across the alley as she pumped her fists in the air, hopping up and down, giving all the impression of a champion athlete. A big attitude for the sack of potatoes he carried the entire length here.
Jaune cut off her self-congratulations with a cough. "Sorry to interrupt, but I might have a small problem. I'm not breathing right. Do you have an idea of what's going on?"
She nodded. "I do, and don't worry. It should sort itself out with time, especially once we leave this universe." She skipped closer, and tapped him on the nose. "Let that be a lesson. Stop acting so hateful, Jaune. Be nicer to people."
He spluttered, "You were the one to bully that woman until she cracked!"
The audacity of this girl!
Tattletale smirked. "Is that how you saw it? Nah, I was just playing with her. She's so easy to figure out. I can run rings around her with my eyes closed."
"See? That. I'm talking about that. You definitely have an issue with her."
"I don't!" she insisted. "In fact, she's nothing to me. I only pity her. Heh."
There was a joke hidden in her words. A secret she refused to outright tell him.
He could piece together a few clues, though.
"I think I get it. Vento was the ene—"
His back hit the ground. A weight settled on his chest. He looked up to green eyes. A subtly sweet perfume. The tips of blonde hair brushing his face. He could feel her breath on his skin.
"Who cares about some loser in a peasant dress?" Tattletale leaned down close to him, eyes half-lidded, and his mind went blank. "C'mon, focus on me. I'm much more interesting."
And he did. His gaze numbly traced the contours of her face, counting the freckles, and lingering on her lips. It then traveled along her neck, and down to her body resting atop his own. The tight-fitted blouse had its top two buttons undone. Concerns of memetic viruses, people unable to wake up, Vento, and his breathing difficulties were forgotten in lieu of thoughts about a cute girl.
"Had a good look?" she asked after a moment, arching an eyebrow.
He nodded, somewhat experiencing trouble finding his tongue.
"Hmmm, you do seem sufficiently distracted. It should be alright now." Tattletale preened. "Hell yeah. Go me."
Hopping off his chest, she stood and offered him a hand up. He regarded it with suspicion before accepting the help. Her hand was soft to the touch, and warm.
Back on his feet, Jaune stared at Tattletale, a dozen questions vying to be said. She forestalled him with a wink.
"You'll get the story later. For now, we have a university to visit."
…University?
It took an age for him to recall the plan they concocted hours ago. Tattletale came up with it, which was a simultaneous reason for him to remember, and to wander off on a daydreaming tangent. Her snickering brought him back to Remnant—to Earth, he meant.
"Not the portal? You were pushing for that."
"The circumstances have changed. I figured a few things out. What's happening to this city isn't a problem for us"—she caught his look—"and not for the victims, at least in the long term. A missed day of work, a couple of bruises from falling. Nothing permanent. The effect isn't designed to kill."
Jaune relaxed, and nodded in understanding. That was a relief to hear.
"Our, ah, let's call it 'resistance', to the virus will protect us from falling unconscious, while if we're lucky the university would be in pandemonium, giving us a chance to enter undetected. A quick in and out, no casualties—it'd be the easiest job we've ever done."
A phone rang.
The pair looked down at the purse hanging by Tattletale's hip, where the ringtone emanated from. She opened the purse, and withdrew the device, peering at the screen.
"What's this number?"
"It's not Kamijou or Misaka?" Theirs were the only entries besides Jaune in her phone. "Spam call, then," he said with complete certainty.
"With this timing?"
"They have the worst timing. Let it ring."
She shook her head in refusal, and pressed the answer button. Another tap set it to speakers.
"Might I suggest a different approach?" said an odd voice on the line, in perfect English.
Of course. Another one allergic to saying 'hello, my name is—' to a person.
"I, am Aleister Crowley. Board Chairman of Academy City."
Oh, no! Another mind reader!
"A bigshot, huh?" Tattletale opined, mind awhirl. She motioned to Jaune, miming knocking back a drink. He summoned a Pietro's Remedy and passed it to her. The concoction soothed her power's side effects, leaving a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Tattletale ready to face anybody.
"Think me a mere custodian."
"A bigshot," Tattletale confirmed.
The voice on the line chuckled, and that's when Jaune hit on the reason he found it odd. The person's voice did not sound like anything, or it sounded like everything. They may have been a man or a woman, a full chorus or a singular performance, meshed into one harmony. The laugh contained notes and inflections aplenty, and as Jaune listened, he anticipated it to finish, to continue, to change into an angry snarl, to end with a soft sigh. The voice signaled multiple possible intents.
Tattletale had taken note. "Just to let you know, a synthesized voice doesn't exactly scream trustworthy. And spying on a girl is a big no-no."
"I put forth a theory to you: a voice specifically crafted to engender trust is one that is sure to lie."
"They've got a point," Jaune offered.
"As for my keeping abreast of developments big and small…"
"Concerning choice of words there," Jaune said.
Tattletale's teeth grounded together. "He knows exactly what he's saying, the pervert."
He? How did she tell that?
Another laugh, full of mirth and grief and other discordant emotions. "A joke. The truth is that the proper caretaking of this city demands a watchful eye, lest it faces unforeseen variables."
"And are we the unforeseen variables?" Tattletale asked, wary. Beside her, Jaune started scanning the area, alert for an attack. They both could read between the lines. Phrases like that often suggested violence to come.
"Of a sort. One not so pressing upon my time," assured Crowley. The phone fell quiet for a beat. "By now, you have grasped the nature of the Puzzle."
Tattletale chimed in, "Good word for it. Avoids the complications."
"Yes. However, the use of the epithet is insufficient as a solution. Learning the details of the Puzzle beyond the name have in most cases led to a leave of absence. Meanwhile, the errands are left unattended."
"Oh, really? What a conundrum for you. I see where this is going."
"Others in my employ harbor ties to this city that make them unsuited for the tasks at hand. Affection, loyalty, greed, protectiveness, and so on. You number among the rare few in the immediate area with no strong feelings on the Puzzle and its various implications, and therefore can operate within its periphery."
"You want mercenaries," said Jaune, recognizing that part even if he's the only one of the three missing the broader strokes. Hiring a person from outside to come and handle a problem, it's somewhat akin to a Huntsman contract.
"Call it part-timers. As your partner says, it avoids the complications."
"Why should we agree to this?" Tattletale asked, fishing for information. She tried to hide her interest, one that Jaune shared. Mercenaries, Huntsmen, part-timers, call them what you will, they get paid for their work. And if he was to be believed, Crowley represented a direct line to the top. A person at his level would have resources, and in Academy City that could include access to the cool toys.
"The corporations tout their sponsorship of the universities. They never mention that no entity invests into the city more than I. What you hope to find there, I can provide, and better in every way. They hold prototypes. I offer the finished product."
'Damn,' Jaune mouthed silently to Tattletale.
Agreeing, she mouthed back, 'Good sales pitch.'
"And…"
"I knew it!" Tattletale shouted into the phone. "Here comes the stick."
"Quite. Your presence has caught the eye of certain interested parties who believe the pair of you possess anomalous properties unknown to the current framework of Science…and of the other side. Enhanced strength, speed, and reactions. Heightened intelligence in one subject. Adverse response to contact with"—the voice became garbled—"followed by a notable period exhibiting baseline metrics. Recovery occurred sans the aid of external processes. Each on their own is unremarkable, the sum total breaks a number of established theories. They want to see what makes you tick."
Tattletale scoffed. "Let me guess, you'll set them loose on us if we reject the deal."
Crowley's next words froze them in their tracks.
"No, they were already loose."
"Eh?" Jaune said, displaying his heightened intelligence.
"The many organizations of Academy City are ever eager to advance scientific knowledge or gain a competitive edge. Zealously so. I reigned them in once I decided to meet you."
They were almost lab rats. How about that?
"What gave us away?" he asked.
"Those who exert influence upon the Level Fives are always scrutinized."
In other words, Tattletale got them in trouble with her big mouth.
Jaune leveled a deadpan stare at her. She turned to look off into the distance.
The voice continued on, unaware (or simply ignoring) their byplay. "In any case, your value in regard to the Puzzle exceeds the potential of their research, and it earns you a measure of reprieve. Work for me, and that protection becomes permanent. I shield my people from harm." Crowley made the weighty promise with the air of one talking about the weather.
Mulling on it, Tattletale gave a suggestion. "Give us a minute." She placed the phone on the ground, and pulled Jaune with her to a short distance away, where they put their heads together to discuss the offer.
He was for it. A load of tech better than what they can find on their own, and legal to boot, to juxtapose an unknown number of hostile forces waiting in the wing—the carrot was delicious, and the stick barbed with a blade attached. Part of the choice seemed out of their hand, yet even then he could see how it's rather simple to thread the needle to get everything they wanted.
As for Tattletale…caution may temper her greed, but her greed was great indeed. They reached an accord, albeit with a caveat—more of a quibble, really.
Returning to their places, Tattletale picked up the phone. Psyching herself up, she smiled like a fox.
"Well, I think we could be convinced. Let's negotiate that pay package, and see where it takes us from there, yeah?"
"Agreed. I shall provide you with a catalogue shortly."
"Cool. One thing, though."
Crowley waited, the phone silent.
Affecting nonchalance, she carried on, "I like to think of us as a meeting of equals. Nice to work with you."
There's the caveat. For whatever reason, Tattletale had vehemently protested the idea of being subordinate to a shadowy boss hidden behind a phone.
A cola delivery truck barreled down the avenue, accompanied by much screaming. Jaune sat in the driver seat, driving badly. Tattletale sat in the passenger seat, passenging badly.
"Slow down, the turn's here!" Her voice grew shrill. "Slow the fuck down!"
To ease the car into a gradual stop, Jaune pressed on the brake pedal with a light touch—by Remnant standard. The wheels locked up, screeching as it scraped over the asphalt. A frantic swing of the steering wheel sent the vehicle into a drift, the cargo box sweeping in an arc it was never designed for; Jaune winced mid-shriek as it clipped a sedan in passing. He hoped the owner didn't store anything in the trunk, because the entire back part was reduced to wreckage.
By now, the truck was perpendicular to the avenue, facing the street they were meant to enter and tilting dangerously; it's a coin flip whether it would fall on its side. Dredging up what knowledge he possessed on Earth vehicles and the study of momentum physics (which roughly matched his level of expertise in neuroscience), Jaune slammed on the throttle.
Tattletale's head banged against the headrest.
The truck shot forward, insofar that something of that size could, righting in the process via hocus-pocus Academy City magic that Jaune didn't understand. A safety measure doohickey that does a thingy was his best guess. Or just straight up magic. His ability to drive certainly had nothing to do with it. The one vehicle he had operated before today was his family's van. The important thing was that every rubber tire touched the road surface, and neither he nor Tattletale got hurt—and if they did, it was an injury Aura could heal in a minute. Better yet, it's a straight shot to their destination from here.
Following their established rhythm, he asked for the third time, "The car there is empty, right?"
Tattletale paused in soothing her throat (from the screaming). She craned her neck, nudging her power to draw a conclusion.
"Final check: empty. You're good to go. Slow down and give it a tap." Showing precisely how much she trusted him, Tattletale closed her eyes and braced for impact.
Jaune huffed, a tad miffed. He moved his foot over to the brake pedal again. Having learned his lesson, this time he applied less pressure.
"I don't feel us slowing down. Are you braking?" Tattletale cracked open one eye, peeking out between her fingers. Another bout of screaming promptly ensued.
The front of the truck and pretty much the whole body of the other car crumpled as they met in a metal-rending cacophony, with Jaune and Tattletale smashing against the deploying airbags. Laying there, waiting for the noise to die down, Jaune smelled the acrid scent of smoke beginning to waft up from the engine.
"Time to get out, Tattletale." He pushed the airbag to create space, then hopped down from the truck. Skipping a couple of steps away, he turned around to beheld the carnage. "Mission accomplished," he declared with pride.
He spotted Tattletale stumbling along in a dizzy stupor on the other side of the crash.
"We're"—she grabbed a street light for balance—"taking a smaller car next time."
"Whaaat? Don't say that. I really think I'm getting the hang of gas engines—the Combustion Dust I'm used to takes a firmer hand, is all. Besides, this is faster than fetching three or four cars." He pointed. "Look how we got most of the street with one truck, and I bet anybody seeing this would believe it's an accident."
"Because it was!"
"Ex-actly. They'd have a hard time peering past it, too, so they aren't going to be inclined to walk down it."
Which was part of the task requested by Crowley for this street, and many other spots around this district. Jaune and Tattletale weren't committing grand theft auto for fun.
Well, in truth, the voice on the line had neglected to clarify why he wanted his city plagued by a spree of vehicular disasters, simply that he was paying to make it happen. Jaune kind of figured things out for himself from the specifications—there needed to be less than so-and-so space for egress, should take place near enough to the mouth of the street that a person would notice it, while distant enough to discourage further scrutiny, etc.
They were blocking off the streets, but with subtlety.
Rejoining his partner, he asked, "Where to next?"
Tattletale retrieved her phone from the utility belt of her costume (donned once again now that she was 'on the job'). On it, a new text awaited them. She checked what it said, then referred to the navigation app.
"End of this street. Loop around the traffic circle, and take the second exit. Scene's clear, so just car work. He wants us to knock out access to the footbridge crossing that section of the stream. Aaaand"—she scrolled down—"a side order of ramming a car into the ice cream parlor near that."
That's a first.
"The heck does he have against the ice cream parlor? What, it gave him bad service or something?"
She shrugged. "He didn't mention. That said, these online reviews suggest that a lot of people would cheer for us if they knew what we're going to do."
Fifteen minutes later, the pair exited a ruined storefront, ice cream cones in hand.
"I gotta say, Tattletale. After fourteen counts of stealing cars, and now vandalism—"
"Pretty sure it's called malicious mischief in this case. We committed 'wanton and gleeful' destruction instead of mere destruction."
"Gleeful?"
"You were laughing. That makes it a worse offense."
"Huh. Malicious mischief sounds so whimsical, though. Like it should be less serious than vandalism…Anyway, my point was that after hijacking a bunch of cars and getting up to some malicious mischief, stealing an ice cream cone barely feels like a crime anymore. Isn't that odd?"
Tattletale just grinned wider, and licked her vanilla ice cream.
Once they finished with the impromptu snack break, Jaune washed down the taste of chocolate with a water bottle from his Pocket, then tossed it in a trash can in passing. (Because littering was one step too far!) He and Tattletale then followed the instructions for their next job, traveling downstream to double back on the other side of the water. Jaune got them a ride, seizing control of the car's computer through his amazing ability to press a button on a car-hacking device Crowley had provided them via delivery drone, and off they went to a new destination.
At first, he had a hard time believing that the city government funded a car-hacking device. Tattletale explained it as law enforcement agencies needing to know how to commit crime to stop crime. As was sometimes the case during his travels with her, that factoid rang strangely close to the Huntsman training and mindset instilled at Beacon, though framed in a light that made him very uncomfortable.
She laughed like he told a great joke when he mentioned it.
They soon arrived at another Academy City road, one as unfamiliar as the rest, and set to their task. Since the scene wasn't cleared, meaning there were people lying around unconscious due to the 'Puzzle' that Tattletale and Crowley kept harping about, this involved his favorite part of the job. Carrying people to safety.
He began at one end of the street, hefting a student up and putting him on his shoulder. A quick jog to the closest building, and he deposited the person inside. (No fancy tech this time—if a door's locked, Crowley had given them a crowbar.) Next was an office worker, then an old lady, followed by her husband, and so on.
Early on, Tattletale also pitched in to move the victims...until Jaune asked her to stop. She had an unfortunate tendency to get lazy, whereupon she'd start dragging bodies along by their feet, uncaring of faces scraping on the pavement. Her job now was to move ahead of him, removing phones as a precaution before he got there to transport the people.
Finally, once every victim laid safe and sound out of harm's way, they capped off their heartwarming and honest efforts with a car pileup to deter people from traveling in that direction.
It's not the sort of thing he expected from this arrangement going in. It's annoying and exhausting compared to driving Earth cars, especially with his current easily-winded state. The victims felt like potato sacks in how their weight shifts and rolls at inconvenient times, and liable to slip out of his grasp at the slightest mistake. Progress moved at a snail's pace.
He loved it. Rescue work. Plus a side of demolition derby, but the general thrust of that probably counted as 'rescue work'-adjacent.
The completion of this task saw a beaming Jaune regrouping with Tattletale. Her face was buried in the map on her phone.
"Where to, captain?" he joked.
"None yet. I'm…Here, check this out. It's easier to see for yourself." She turned her phone slightly, inviting him to come closer. On the map were a series of pins she had placed. Tattletale pointed to one. "This is the job on this street. The other pins are the rest of the jobs we've done. There are gaps, but they roughly form two routes." She drew lines with a finger to illustrate. "Interestingly, they intersect. Right at…that spot." She tapped a pin on the map, which brought up a picture and a name.
The name he did not recognize. However, the building, the sign out front, the smaller pictures of food available there…
"A diner?"
"Yup. It's obvious that we're shepherding two parties to meet at the diner."
So that's it. Crowley had contracted them to help fix a match. His goal, to neutralize one side or the other—or both.
"Nice detective work, Tattletale." He said, impressed.
Tattletale smirked, basking in the praise.
"We stay out of these lanes as much as possible," she advised as the phone dinged with a new message. "Wouldn't want to kick things off by accident."
For the next hour, they continued in the same vein, moving bodies and crashing cars. Under Crowley's directions, they racked up a couple more instances of malicious mischief, and Jaune became convinced their employer held many, many petty grudges. And against a dozen different fields—restaurants, newspapers, music stores, accountants, publishing houses.
Now that Tattletale had pointed it out, he could tell how they're closing the gaps. Over time, things shaped up to, not a full-on blockade, but a mild suggestion to follow specific routes. So artful was it, that he got caught by the trap once or twice, his feet simply making a particular choice when he encountered an intersection they had visited (wrecked) previous. Their actions culminated in one big chessboard, playing to one man's purpose.
It therefore came as little surprise that after getting out of the last car, which Jaune launched onto a sidewalk to block the path, the pair received not a text, but a call. Tattletale answered it.
"Well done. You've completed your tasks right on time for the phase to begin."
Tattletale buffed her nails on her costume, adopting a carefree tone. "Psh. It was no big deal. Easy-peasy."
A laugh on the line. "I have your next assignment. You may see combat, and thus payment will draw from the second pool of items, as agreed."
Jaune leaned in, much more alert. This was the arena where he shined.
"Color me interested. Can you give some details?" he asked.
"An esper has gone rogue. He intends to abduct a child under my custody. I would like you to rendezvous with a different group of agents tasked with neutralizing the threat."
Jaune and Tattletale shared a look.
An Esper. The local variant of a Huntsman or parahuman. Someone with powers beyond the ordinary. Dangerous. Fascinating.
As for the motive…Jaune wouldn't mind introducing his fist to the esper's face. Tattletale has worse plans in store—kidnappers topped the list of people she despised.
"Alright," he said, coldly. "What kind of person are we dealing with, then?"
The voice on the line answered.
"They call him Accelerator."
Author's Notes: (。￣-￣)
Vento. Basic explanation: She magic. Hate her = instant loss.
A bit more: Those who hold hostility towards Vento will be robbed of air in their lungs. Theorized by characters in the novel to have different levels severity, but by the point where they regard her as 'the enemy', they have hit the max level where the air is just barely enough to keep them alive.
Guesses on how Jaune and Tattletale survived their encounter.
He opened his mouth, but did not know quite what to say. His jaw simply hung there for a time. Tattletale found her voice first.
"This might be a good time to leave."
That got his mouth working again. Jaune whirled towards Tattletale. "No way!" He gestured at the policeman. The Company scroll materialized in his empty hand a second later. "We have to help them. I'll pick up a set of stimpaks."
Before he could enter the Marketplace, Tattletale slapped her hand over the screen.
"Are you dumb? Jaune, whatever is happening could hit us next. We need to protect ourselves before we think about others—stop that!" she growled as he jerked the device away from her grip. She leapt after it, clamping on with both hands. "We can't spend our Points willy-nilly on random strangers. It's a waste."
"Well, we have to do something," he said.
The look she gave him, a slight shake of the head as her eyebrows scrunched, pretty sufficiently conveyed that in her opinion they didn't have to do a damn thing. He returned an identical expression, denying her denial. This was a clear emergency, and they were here, right here, able to assist.
Seeing that he won't back down, she changed tack. "You don't even have any Points left," she reminded him. "The entire balance is mine at the moment, remember?"
Jaune stopped short.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. So maybe ask first?" She raised a hand to prevent him from doing just that. "And the answer's still no, because you need to calm down and think. There's no guarantee the stimpaks would fix them—it's not a panacea for all ailments. We have too little to go on, and jumping the gun could do more harm than good. We need information. Alright?"
He had no good reply, not when a loud and growing part within his mind told him to listen since she was making a lot of sense, both in terms of him using funds belonging to his companion and that he was running blind. It gnawed at the side of him in control, the part that had shifted to crisis mode and demanded action. Almost despite himself, he dialed back the impulse. A newfound state of uncertainty replaced it to leave him dithering, a helpless glance alternating between the prone body and Tattletale.
She began working his fingers loose from the scroll. Her voice crooned in his ear, soft and soothing. Beguiling. "We'll take a look at the situation, scope it out. See if it's within our ability to affect, or whether it's better—whether it's tactically sound to retreat and consider our options. Weren't you a team leader? Didn't anyone ever tell you that you have to be mindful of your team's wellbeing?"
Ren did, after a whole long series of disastrous events in Beacon's first month that nearly cracked the team. He had the right of it back then, and Tattletale had the right of it here.
Jaune felt all the worse for that. He should have taken the lesson to heart from the first go-round.
"Yeah, that's…You make a good point. That was my bad, Tattletale. "
She grinned. "I know. I always do. Stay where you are, and give me a bit to figure things out."
Tucking the Company scroll away in her purse, Tattletale proceeded to sweep her gaze across their surroundings, allowing a measure of her superpower to run free. She bent down to peer closer at the policeman, then darted over to a nearby pedestrian to compare their conditions. A look across the street noted the group of people collapsed in one big heap at the windows of an electronics store, the televisions on display still broadcasting without an audience.
"Alive. All alive," she concluded for his benefit. "No visible wounds, no signs of debilitating pain, but it is internal. Total loss of muscle control. Skin turning bluish." She cocked an ear towards the policeman. The absence of ambient city noise allowed her to hear much more. "Rapid heartbeat, way higher than ours. These are symptoms of oxygen deprivation—"
"They're not breathing?" Jaune asked. His own heart rate started picking up at the news. People not breathing usually preceded people not living.
Tattletale shook her head. "They are, the oxygen is just not reaching their lungs in proportion to what they inhale—somehow—and the body reacts by putting them in a near-death—a low-power state to correspond with the amount of oxygen they're receiving." Absent-mindedly, she winded a lock of hair around her fingers, playing with it as she paced, eyes flickering from one spot to another. "Most likely suspects for those types of physical reactions in a human are capes with a Master, Shaker, or Tinker power, poisons, or pathogens—oh god, this sounds like Bonesaw." Tattletale looked as if she wanted to throw up.
Jaune asked the obvious question, "Is it Bonesaw?"
"Don't say that!" Her voice hit a high, almost squeaky pitch on that one. "She...We're in another universe and her specialty isn't dimension travel, so it's not possible. Maybe a local esper equivalent." She didn't seem happy about that prospect, either. "But if it was a cape, they would have hit us along with everybody."
"Or they're saving us for later."
"Please, please, stop talking."
Jaune mimed zipping his mouth shut.
Tattletale took a deep breath to center herself. "It's not a cape," she declared. "Unless they were in the bathroom stall next to ours to see the portal appear, we haven't shown anything big and flashy that could compare to what espers can do. There's no value in going after us for our abilities, and even if there were, an indiscriminate attack on this many people would bring a ton of attention down on the perpetrator. There are easier methods, and better targets." She looked up at him. "Poisons or pathogens, then."
Jaune shrugged, not arguing. She nodded like he had given an actual response, and resumed pacing.
"Airborne? No, not the route it took. We're fine. Something in the city water supply, accumulated through daily intakes…but the people in the cars that drove away didn't crash, meaning their health wasn't being affected by it." She wandered past him to the open car door of the police van, peeking in. "Another one here. His partner." She indicated the policeman on the ground. "Identical condition. Her hand's extended. She was fiddling with the police radio set when she fell unconscious. Huh, a wedding ring. Picture on dashboard. Kids. Hers. They would have fallen sick days earlier if water and foodstuff were contaminated to the point it knocks out an adult, and this occurred without warning. She's at her job, in peak physical health. They were okay this morning when she left. Out of school and already married with kids—late thirties? Are you kidding me!?"
"What's wrong?" Jaune went over to the car, peering inside. The policewoman was there, as Tattletale said, slumped to the side with her head dangling. She did not have the helmet on like her partner—it was suspended from a hook attached to the van's ceiling, out of the way but within easy reach. Besides a faint bluish tint, she seemed merely asleep.
"What's wrong?" Tattletale echoed him, raging. "Her face! Her figure! She looks way too young for someone pushing forty!"
Jaune studied the officer one more time.
"Looks about right to me," he said. He'd put the woman as comparable in age to Glynda Goodwitch, the vice-headmistress of Beacon.
Realization dawned for Tattletale, and she scoffed. "Oh, great. I get it now. This is that thing again, isn't it? Where this isn't magazine model attractive in your world."
"Oh, no," Jaune denied. "She's pretty." Another comparable attribute to Glynda Goodwitch. She even has that stern, no-nonsense librarian impression. With glasses.
Hot.
Tattletale stared from the woman to Jaune. She then crossed her arms, and pouted. "Pretty, he says. Just pretty." Her voice faded to soft grumbles. "Different universes…complete bull…unfair…"
"This really is not the time, Tattletale."
"Screw you!"
He let that one pass, because in a flash he got why she was annoyed. The current world shared one specific aspect with Remnant: their levels of beauty lied close enough to each other for him to consider it normal, and for Tattletale to see it as unusual. That would explain why he had received only a handful of looks for the whole morning, and nothing more substantial came of it other than a passing comment on his blond hair—a trait far more common in foreigners than the Japanese, as he heard from Kamijou. Whereas Earth Bet, Dunwall, and Steelport of Saints Row had vaunted him to pretty boy status, here he blended in with the populace. Here, he was…mid.
And thus, Jaune's ego shrank one size smaller that day.
"I prefer the other Earths," he said, depressed.
"God, I do, too," agreed Tattletale, for a similar yet subtly different reason.
Still, his point stood. For the time being, they had bigger problems to deal with, so he shoved aside the issue of his appearance—not that there was anything wrong with it, mind you. What? Who's insecure? Shut up!—and returned to the matter at hand. Namely, the mystery of the falling bodies.
The clues given didn't offer much to him that Tattletale hadn't stated outright, although she might get further with them. He tried, nevertheless. Their group of two fell into quiet contemplation, their thoughts accompanied only by the droning murmur of the police radio.
They both found their gazes drifting towards it.
As Tattletale deduced, the policewoman's hand sort of extended in the direction of the communications set, suggesting she could have been operating the device in the moments leading up to the incident that incapacitated her and everyone else. A message was playing on it now, barely audible. An automated one judging by the monotone cadence.
The police might have an idea of the situation, was his thinking. Jaune withdrew his new phone from his pocket, tapping to the translation app.
That was when Tattletale pounced on his back to stop him, her words spilling out in a rush. "Wait, hold on, I know how it happened, the vector of attack is through media!"
"...Eh?" Jaune parsed that statement. "You're saying it's, what, like those flashing videos that can trigger epilepsy?"
"It makes sense. Look."
Pulling him away from the van, she pointed one by one at the nearby victims. According to her running commentary, a common thread connected them: each had a phone in hand or fallen next to them. Tattletale then directed his attention at the electronics store. Why would there be a whole group of people struck down at that spot, notably with some of them not carrying phones? The televisions behind the window were blaring the news. As for the police officers…
"The radio, clearly. The man fell. His partner saw it. She realized why and tried to shut off the volume before it got to her, only it was too late and that was that. Total wipeout, barring us."
Finished, Tattletale planted her hands on her hips, and waited for his reaction.
"Okay, that's a good theory," Jaune said. Damn good, in fact. He did not have a better one. There was one problem. "That said, how?"
Words can hurt. But like this?
"Some kind of memetic image," Tattletale suggested. "Maybe a specific sequence of words. People see it, or hear it, then they fall over unconscious."
And by the time a person figured out they're under attack, it would already be too late.
Jaune gulped. "The radio was on. Are we in danger?"
He wondered whether turning on Blank would grant him protection from this type of thing. The only way to know was to face it head on, a rather ill-advised course of action when failure could put him flat on the ground.
Turning it on could shield him. Keeping it off allowed Tattletale full use of her power, an alternative approach to prevent danger. Choices, choices.
"We've lasted this long, so I think we should be okay," Tattletale assured him. "It might be due to our lack of fluency in Japanese. We recognize the message as mere noises, and don't understand what was said. Same goes for the TVs. At this distance, we're not picking up the details, and I bet money that's countering the effect. We're safe," she stated with greater surety.
"Except that means we can't find any details of what the threat is and how to deal with it, or we'll go the same way as these guys."
"Which is why we should leave."
Man, he walked right into that one, didn't he?
"Let's not be hasty," he said.
"Hasty ones go home alive, slowpokes get eaten by bears," was her blithe reply. "Seriously, Jaune. We don't have the budget to produce a cure for these people, if there even is an effective cure in the Marketplace. This is something that requires an organized response from a government, millions of dollars, and weeks of devising a solution. Not two people with a time limit of less than half a day. At this stage, the scale is too far beyond us. What can we do?"
He supposed she intended it a rhetorical question. However, Jaune had an answer.
"We can ensure that the authorities are informed of the attack. They might not know yet, and like you just said, speed matters. The quicker they respond, the quicker they can contain its spread."
Tattletale flapped her mouth wordlessly, before she threw her hands in the air. "Oh, come on!" she whined. "I won that and you know it. Don't turn around and pretend I helped to make your point!"
"It's one detour," Jaune tried. He fished out his phone, and clumsily navigated the unfamiliar menu to the map app. He typed in a search, then showed the result to Tattletale. "There's a police station a few blocks from here, can we give it a shot? I doubt it would take long."
"Tch. Why are you so hung up on this?" Tattletale crossed her arms and looked at him in challenge, a stubborn set to her jaw. It told Jaune that he had yet to persuade her, for safety mattered more to the girl than strangers. He couldn't blame her. Unlike him, she possessed a better frame of reference for events of this nature—or worse, depending on how one looked at it. Whoever Bonesaw was, they inspired dread from a universe away.
To overcome that fear, he needed a surefire argument. Too bad he didn't have one.
Which finally led him to consider her question about his motivation in seriousness. Because she's being stubborn, yeah, but so was he. Why?
The answer came easy.
"Kamijou and Misaka may get caught up in the attack if we leave things alone," he said.
Tattletale stared, face a total blank.
"And this is clearly a bad thing," He added once the silence had stretched a bit too long.
"...Clearly."
The nod said she agreed with him. The tone said she held some reservations that she won't admit out loud.
Good enough. He'd take it.
Jaune mumbled a quiet apology to the people lying at his feet that he couldn't do much for, then spun on his heels and set off before Tattletale changed her mind. A few seconds later, he heard the sounds of light footsteps catching up, until she matched pace beside him.
Walking the city streets, Jaune got a view of how far the attack had extended at this point in time. By his reckon, the number of casualties remained pretty low considering the full population, fueling his optimism that they had a buffer ahead of it hitting critical mass. Not many people browsed the news in the early afternoon, and those struck through infected sites on their phones were left in no state to bring the attention of others to the same content. What Tattletale theorized to be a memetic virus had to wait for its prey, akin to a carnivorous plant.
The bad thing was, the prey kept coming. Along their route, Jaune spotted others who were up and awake. Despite the uncertainty he saw on their faces at this situation, it's heartening the amount of people that would dash over to a stranger to check on them.
It's also a little problematic, because…
"Stop, stop, stop, don't look! Don't—"
The office worker did the complete opposite of Jaune's warning, scanning the immediate area to end up looking at the phone. He collapsed on his side.
A distance apart from the new victim, one arm still outstretched, Jaune sighed. "Never mind."
"He didn't realize what you were talking about. Try telling the next person to specifically avoid the phone," Tattletale suggested. Jaune nodded, grateful for the advice.
Further up the road, an opportunity to put it in practice appeared as he noticed a kind-hearted student padding towards a body slumped against the wall of a building, ready to lend the victim aid.
"Hey! Whatever you do, don't look at the phone," he shouted to her, and his own phone projected the translation at a louder volume—a nifty feature that ensured others would hear him as if he had spoken in an understandable language. "I repeat, don't look at the phooone!"
The student said something—he'd guess "Phone?" in Japanese—and she then zoned in on the device. Down she went.
Tattletale applauded. "Wooow. You are literally making things worse, Jaune. Stop helping."
That gut punch sent Jaune to his knees, his face buried in his hands in utter exasperation.
"Tattletale, what is wrong with people?"
Ceasing her clapping, she gave a rueful chuckle. "It's psychology. When you warn someone of danger without describing the threat, they're going to search for where it's coming from so they can defend themselves against it. If you instead point to the threat, they can't help but focus on it, thinking that keeping the source of the danger in their sight will allow them to better avoid harm."
"Damn you, psychology…"
In a way, the concept was a familiar one. That exact principle applied too well to cases of Grimm. During an attack, the most singularly useless piece of advice was one that went along the line of "Listen, everybody. Ravening hordes of Grimm are ramming the walls. Oh, but don't worry or panic!" Saying that would just cause everyone in the shelter to worry and panic, and the negative emotions to draw in more Grimm. Yet in the absence of directions, the people would crane their ears, trying to hear outside, their imaginations painting nightmarish scenes that sent them slipping into despair. In the end, fear grew stronger anyway.
Forewarning, frankness, isolation, ignorance. None of these approaches ever truly worked as a solution. There's no good answer, then or now.
Nevertheless, Jaune gave a few additional attempts, hoping for different results. He threw in the towel when he ran out of volunteers. Their journey proceeded without interruptions from then on, albeit with a lot more embarrassment on Jaune's part.
"I mean, they would have gotten infected by the virus in any case, so it's not my fault."
"Yup," came Tattletale's chipper reply.
"...Who am I kidding? It's completely my fault."
"Oh, yeah. Definitely," she agreed, sounding all too cheerful about it and not even bothering to make him feel better. Jaune exhaled a long, suffering breath.
Rallying, he said. "Shouldn't people be smarter than this, though? So, okay, I've met idiots before—hell, nobody considers me a paragon of intellectual thoughts—but my instructions were clear! They're dead simple to understand!"
He'd like to think that he would have listened to someone screaming for him to shut his eyes. Wouldn't he?
Then again, knowing himself…
Ugh. Stupid psychology.
"You sweet summer child." Tattletale skipped ahead, then spun to walk backward, facing him. "Here's the truth, Jaune." She held up one hand in a v-sign. "There are two types of people in the world: Those dumber than me, and those who don't yet realize they're dumber than me."
"Where do you fall in that equation?" He asked, confused.
"I'm above it. Shut up. My point is—"
What her point was, she never elaborated on, falling quiet as she peered curiously past Jaune's shoulder. He turned to follow her gaze.
At some point, a woman had entered the street from a side alley. She had noticed the pair, but was in no hurry to reach them, strolling along at a sedate pace in the middle of the road. Robes of a garish yellow and brown assaulted the eyes of anyone who looked at her, but that would be fast forgotten once a person took in her facial features. Piercings dotted her visage, following no sense of rhyme or reason that Jaune could discern; it broke up the symmetry into something akin to a cracked window. Heavy makeup around the eyes lent her the impression of a raccoon. On her shoulder rested a long warhammer, wrapped in barbed wires. A wide, maddened smile crossed her lips.
Upon seeing this person, a rush of relief washed over Jaune.
You can't tell him that's not a Huntress, or the local equivalent.
Next to him, Tattletale piped up, half to herself, "The clothes she wears…the way she stalks instead of walks is practiced…and the piercings, their placements are deliberate…It's all to appear unpleasant for others." A scoff. "Heh. That's adorable. She should meet Skitter." She glanced at Jaune. "Why isn't it working on you, though?" she asked as an aside.
"I've seen wilder getups at Beacon," he said, shrugging. Images flashed by. A legion of topless mohawk guys. The month where spiky shoulder pads were in vogue. A cult—their team claimed to be an aspiring music band, but nobody believed them—that swore by frilly skirts paired with rebreather masks. One girl who always looked like she came out of a hospital room that morning, wreathed in bandages splattered with crimson (red dye). "Don't overanalyze it, Tattletale—this is fashion." Where there existed neither rules nor taboo.
"Are you sure?" Tattletale was unconvinced.
"It tracks with my world, at least. Don't you have something similar with the costumes your heroes and villains wear?" Taking it upon himself to be polite, Jaune turned back to the woman, waving to her. "Are you from the city government?" he called out. The app spat out a translation.
"No." The woman hadn't said a word. That answer came courtesy of the girl at his side, and her superpower.
"Independently contracted, then?" he mused under his breath. Getting real Huntress vibes here. Louder, he said, "Is there anything we can assist you with?"
Once again, his partner read ahead of the script, and replied in place of the stranger. "No."
"I think she'd prefer to speak for herself, Tattletale," he said with a slight note of reprimand. Tattletale blew a raspberry at him.
At that moment, the woman opened her mouth. A delicate metal chain unfurled, stretching to waist height and attached to an unusually long tongue by a piercing. She wagged the tongue in an undulating (and frankly lewd) manner, the grin splitting even wider, causing the cross connected to the end of the chain to dangle back and forth.
"Or maybe not."
But then, the woman confirmed his earlier thought, finally responding.
"Heathen tongues spoken by heathen means, never have I seen a heretic whose addled brain is so far gone that he needed a machine to talk in his place. As expected of this shitty den of sin," she called across the remaining distance.
Well. That sure was something.
"Hello, my name is Jaune, it's nice to meet you," he said, a little sarcastically. Was it painful for other people to use normal greetings? "You can also just say 'city' and 'young people these days,' you know. They're much politer terms for the same thing."
The woman rolled her eyes. Only, in an over-exaggerated motion that looked odd to him. "Leave it to a degenerate wallowing in ignorance—"
"Again, rude."
"—to quibble over the minor details." The metal chain clinked and jangled as she spoke. "Did it even occur to you to wonder who I am?"
Jaune frowned at the nasty attitude that the woman seemed to insist upon. It went further than the level of, say, an Annoying Blonde he cared to name. Tattletale may be exasperating at times, but she was cute in comparison to this woman.
He then recalled the incident where Tattletale sent him spiraling into a pit of despair, ready to go back to Remnant and jump on the fire lady's sword, and he grew puzzled at how this woman could bother him even more while saying a lot less. Her words lacked the barbs and the bitter truths. They were mere abuse, hurled with little regard. Empty, in essence. Yet he felt worse for it than anything Tattletale had ever said of him.
It's a difference in intensity that he found hard to explain. Her speech and demeanor created an oppressive atmosphere that chafes at him in an uncomfortable way, making him feel as if it was becoming harder to breathe.
Tattletale startled, whipping her head in his direction. She studied him, head cocked to listen intently.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Ignoring him, she pursed her lips in thought. Her gaze then flickered towards something off to the side of the road. Green eyes grew wider. She grinned.
Without an explanation, Jaune was left shaking his head at the strange behavior. He soon refocused on the woman in yellow to continue the conversation. "Who are you, then?"
"Took you fucking long enough." Arrogantly, she swept her arms out wide. "Vento of the Front, and I am the one—"
A blonde head of hair appeared in his vision.
"Hey, Jaune!" Tattletale shouted, clapping her hands together an inch from his face to make him blink. She was on tiptoes, taking light hops to get on his eye level.
"What the—" Jaune moved to the left. She hopped one step over. He slid to the right, and she followed suit to once again plonk herself in front of him. "Tattletale, could you move?" he asked, tilting this way and that to peek around her, straining his ear to catch what the woman named Vento was saying.
"...magic…science…declaration of…"
"What was that?" he said, getting the odd feeling that he was missing critical exposition.
With a growl, the woman tried to repeat her words, growing visibly annoyed at the head bobbing up and down, partially blocking her and Jaune's views of each other.
"Forget the weirdo, Jaune," Tattletale ordered, displaying a total lack of self-awareness. She spun towards Vento, pointing with her finger. "She's a poor, out of touch lady that hasn't changed her phone in years. One of those luddites that thinks we lived better lives in the Middle Ages."
What do those words mean, he wanted to ask first and foremost.
Vento understood them, and for a beat, she seemed at a loss of what to make of the accusation. However, she recovered quickly, and snarled back at Tattletale, "If it wasn't for the false promises of science—"
"Ha! I knew it!" Tattletale crowed, triumphant. "See that, Jaune? I was right. And check out her clothes. She's larping as a peasant in the middle of the city. Hilarious!"
Now Jaune just felt bad for the woman, being so abused by his companion.
Leaning down next to Tattletale's ear, he whispered, "Hey, could you ease up? She might have been a little ill-mannered, but…" Jaune trailed off, and leaned further forward in order to look Tattletale in the eye. The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a small smile. "Hang on, are you bullying her because she was mean to me?"
Tattletale balked, "Wha—no!" She whirled around to face him, and skipped a step away to create a space between them. "Like hell I was. I'm doing this because—" Her lips pressed together.
"Because?"
"Not important. Not relevant. I'll tell you later."
"Uh-huh," he said, amused. Tattletale shoved him, scowling.
"Shush. Let me work." Plastering on a saccharine smile, she turned to Vento.
"Done, are we?" Vento said, cocking an eyebrow. "I suppose that explains things well enough. Two dogs in—"
A blonde head of hair appeared in his vision.
"Hey, Jaune!"
"—FUCK!" Vento screamed, overcome by an incandescent rage.
"I am so, so sorry about her." Jaune covered his face in embarrassment. "She's not normally like this," he tacked on to help salvage the situation.
It wasn't a complete lie, either. The girl tended to rub people the wrong way, but he hasn't seen her do it in such an obvious, over-the-top fashion. The idea he proposed, that she took offense for his sake, was voiced half in jest, and even if true, he doubted she would have dialed it up to this degree. It's a deliberate act, then, mirroring—and exceeding—the behavior exhibited by Vento. Which begged the question of why.
A tug on his sleeves made him look up. It was Tattletale.
"Don't ask why."
"You're doing that thing again." The mind-reading that's supposedly not mind-reading.
"Heh, I know. So, look, you want me to let up on her. I'm willing to do that."
"Really?"
She nodded, but her eyes weren't on him. They're darting to the side, sending glances past her shoulder.
He tried to look, too. In response, she grabbed his chin and pulled so he could only see her.
"One thing, though. I need you to obey what I say next without talking back and without thinking. Can you?"
"Ehhh…" Making promises like that sounded like the kind of decision that got past Arcs in trouble.
"Jaune, I'm serious."
A simple phrase, with no strong inflection. It changed everything.
Losing all trace of humor, he stared her dead in the eyes. "Okay. Say it."
She pointed behind him. "I want to be three blocks that way, as fast as you ca–an!" Her voice ended with a high-pitched squeak as Jaune had already lifted her on a shoulder with one hand and—with a twist of his hips—launched [Third Arm] with the other. It latched onto a parked car, yanking them both in that direction.
His shoes scraped against the asphalt, barely keeping him from falling on his face as he slid along the road. Near the end of the maneuver, he canceled the power and pushed from the ground, vaulting over the car to get to the other side. He hit the ground running.
Something hit the car, and Jaune heard the sound of tearing metal.
"What was that?" he yelled, forgetting that he was supposed to not ask questions.
"Just the wind~" Tattletale singsonged, before she shifted position. He had no idea what she was doing, but she was being very animated in doing it. Immediately after, there came a scream from further back.
"What did you do to set her off!?"
"Nothing~"
"You have a lot of explaining to do once we're done!"
"Nope."
Jaune forewent a rebuttal, too occupied by running. He had started well, but the exertion was hitting him earlier than should be possible. By the midpoint mark, he was huffing and puffing, and what should have been an easy sprint felt like he had weights strapped to his ankle—a type of training Pyrrha loved to use. He pushed through it, dismissing it as an off day.
Off day or not, he was still a lot faster than someone swaddled in ankle-length robes, and Vento's vulgar curses soon faded in the distance. Three blocks down the road, Tattletale directed him around the corner, then into the first alleyway they saw, encouraging him to go just a bit further. He complied without protest on both counts, at this point feeling rather woozy and sucking in great, heaving breaths with each stride. The lightheadedness stifled any desire to speak or think. Only once they went deep inside the alley did Tattletale grant him blessed relief by telling him he could stop. Placing her back on the ground, he leaned on the wall. Sweat poured down his brow as he fell into a coughing fit, wheezing like a lifelong smoker.
Between gulps of air, he gestured, and a water bottle appeared, purchased during their shopping foray. Greedily, he drank it down, draining the bottle before tossing it in a nearby dumpster. Now somewhat refreshed, another hand motion summoned his scroll, where he pulled up the Aura meter function. It left him scratching his head.
There was Aura. A quarter full and still recovering since he parted ways with Kamijou. The rate at which he regained Aura aligned with past experiences. Things seemed normal, meaning the exercise should have been a breeze. Even a sliver of it enabled superhuman feats, doubly so for a person his age. Except, he hadn't run like a man in his prime. He ran like Peter Port after a full lunch course.
One possibility reared its head. Jaune flicked on [Blank].
Nothing happened. He was still winded. Getting better, but not 'throwing off the shackles of a mind worm' better.
Had the memetic virus not gotten him after all, or were they wrong in their assumption, and it worked via other means?
As has become common, he looked to Tattletale for an answer.
"Hehehe! Oh, man, that was great! I won! Ahahaha!"
She's…a little distracted.
Tattletale, for reasons beyond comprehension, was celebrating. Her laughter rang across the alley as she pumped her fists in the air, hopping up and down, giving all the impression of a champion athlete. A big attitude for the sack of potatoes he carried the entire length here.
Jaune cut off her self-congratulations with a cough. "Sorry to interrupt, but I might have a small problem. I'm not breathing right. Do you have an idea of what's going on?"
She nodded. "I do, and don't worry. It should sort itself out with time, especially once we leave this universe." She skipped closer, and tapped him on the nose. "Let that be a lesson. Stop acting so hateful, Jaune. Be nicer to people."
He spluttered, "You were the one to bully that woman until she cracked!"
The audacity of this girl!
Tattletale smirked. "Is that how you saw it? Nah, I was just playing with her. She's so easy to figure out. I can run rings around her with my eyes closed."
"See? That. I'm talking about that. You definitely have an issue with her."
"I don't!" she insisted. "In fact, she's nothing to me. I only pity her. Heh."
There was a joke hidden in her words. A secret she refused to outright tell him.
He could piece together a few clues, though.
"I think I get it. Vento was the ene—"
His back hit the ground. A weight settled on his chest. He looked up to green eyes. A subtly sweet perfume. The tips of blonde hair brushing his face. He could feel her breath on his skin.
"Who cares about some loser in a peasant dress?" Tattletale leaned down close to him, eyes half-lidded, and his mind went blank. "C'mon, focus on me. I'm much more interesting."
And he did. His gaze numbly traced the contours of her face, counting the freckles, and lingering on her lips. It then traveled along her neck, and down to her body resting atop his own. The tight-fitted blouse had its top two buttons undone. Concerns of memetic viruses, people unable to wake up, Vento, and his breathing difficulties were forgotten in lieu of thoughts about a cute girl.
"Had a good look?" she asked after a moment, arching an eyebrow.
He nodded, somewhat experiencing trouble finding his tongue.
"Hmmm, you do seem sufficiently distracted. It should be alright now." Tattletale preened. "Hell yeah. Go me."
Hopping off his chest, she stood and offered him a hand up. He regarded it with suspicion before accepting the help. Her hand was soft to the touch, and warm.
Back on his feet, Jaune stared at Tattletale, a dozen questions vying to be said. She forestalled him with a wink.
"You'll get the story later. For now, we have a university to visit."
…University?
It took an age for him to recall the plan they concocted hours ago. Tattletale came up with it, which was a simultaneous reason for him to remember, and to wander off on a daydreaming tangent. Her snickering brought him back to Remnant—to Earth, he meant.
"Not the portal? You were pushing for that."
"The circumstances have changed. I figured a few things out. What's happening to this city isn't a problem for us"—she caught his look—"and not for the victims, at least in the long term. A missed day of work, a couple of bruises from falling. Nothing permanent. The effect isn't designed to kill."
Jaune relaxed, and nodded in understanding. That was a relief to hear.
"Our, ah, let's call it 'resistance', to the virus will protect us from falling unconscious, while if we're lucky the university would be in pandemonium, giving us a chance to enter undetected. A quick in and out, no casualties—it'd be the easiest job we've ever done."
A phone rang.
The pair looked down at the purse hanging by Tattletale's hip, where the ringtone emanated from. She opened the purse, and withdrew the device, peering at the screen.
"What's this number?"
"It's not Kamijou or Misaka?" Theirs were the only entries besides Jaune in her phone. "Spam call, then," he said with complete certainty.
"With this timing?"
"They have the worst timing. Let it ring."
She shook her head in refusal, and pressed the answer button. Another tap set it to speakers.
"Might I suggest a different approach?" said an odd voice on the line, in perfect English.
Of course. Another one allergic to saying 'hello, my name is—' to a person.
"I, am Aleister Crowley. Board Chairman of Academy City."
Oh, no! Another mind reader!
"A bigshot, huh?" Tattletale opined, mind awhirl. She motioned to Jaune, miming knocking back a drink. He summoned a Pietro's Remedy and passed it to her. The concoction soothed her power's side effects, leaving a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Tattletale ready to face anybody.
"Think me a mere custodian."
"A bigshot," Tattletale confirmed.
The voice on the line chuckled, and that's when Jaune hit on the reason he found it odd. The person's voice did not sound like anything, or it sounded like everything. They may have been a man or a woman, a full chorus or a singular performance, meshed into one harmony. The laugh contained notes and inflections aplenty, and as Jaune listened, he anticipated it to finish, to continue, to change into an angry snarl, to end with a soft sigh. The voice signaled multiple possible intents.
Tattletale had taken note. "Just to let you know, a synthesized voice doesn't exactly scream trustworthy. And spying on a girl is a big no-no."
"I put forth a theory to you: a voice specifically crafted to engender trust is one that is sure to lie."
"They've got a point," Jaune offered.
"As for my keeping abreast of developments big and small…"
"Concerning choice of words there," Jaune said.
Tattletale's teeth grounded together. "He knows exactly what he's saying, the pervert."
He? How did she tell that?
Another laugh, full of mirth and grief and other discordant emotions. "A joke. The truth is that the proper caretaking of this city demands a watchful eye, lest it faces unforeseen variables."
"And are we the unforeseen variables?" Tattletale asked, wary. Beside her, Jaune started scanning the area, alert for an attack. They both could read between the lines. Phrases like that often suggested violence to come.
"Of a sort. One not so pressing upon my time," assured Crowley. The phone fell quiet for a beat. "By now, you have grasped the nature of the Puzzle."
Tattletale chimed in, "Good word for it. Avoids the complications."
"Yes. However, the use of the epithet is insufficient as a solution. Learning the details of the Puzzle beyond the name have in most cases led to a leave of absence. Meanwhile, the errands are left unattended."
"Oh, really? What a conundrum for you. I see where this is going."
"Others in my employ harbor ties to this city that make them unsuited for the tasks at hand. Affection, loyalty, greed, protectiveness, and so on. You number among the rare few in the immediate area with no strong feelings on the Puzzle and its various implications, and therefore can operate within its periphery."
"You want mercenaries," said Jaune, recognizing that part even if he's the only one of the three missing the broader strokes. Hiring a person from outside to come and handle a problem, it's somewhat akin to a Huntsman contract.
"Call it part-timers. As your partner says, it avoids the complications."
"Why should we agree to this?" Tattletale asked, fishing for information. She tried to hide her interest, one that Jaune shared. Mercenaries, Huntsmen, part-timers, call them what you will, they get paid for their work. And if he was to be believed, Crowley represented a direct line to the top. A person at his level would have resources, and in Academy City that could include access to the cool toys.
"The corporations tout their sponsorship of the universities. They never mention that no entity invests into the city more than I. What you hope to find there, I can provide, and better in every way. They hold prototypes. I offer the finished product."
'Damn,' Jaune mouthed silently to Tattletale.
Agreeing, she mouthed back, 'Good sales pitch.'
"And…"
"I knew it!" Tattletale shouted into the phone. "Here comes the stick."
"Quite. Your presence has caught the eye of certain interested parties who believe the pair of you possess anomalous properties unknown to the current framework of Science…and of the other side. Enhanced strength, speed, and reactions. Heightened intelligence in one subject. Adverse response to contact with"—the voice became garbled—"followed by a notable period exhibiting baseline metrics. Recovery occurred sans the aid of external processes. Each on their own is unremarkable, the sum total breaks a number of established theories. They want to see what makes you tick."
Tattletale scoffed. "Let me guess, you'll set them loose on us if we reject the deal."
Crowley's next words froze them in their tracks.
"No, they were already loose."
"Eh?" Jaune said, displaying his heightened intelligence.
"The many organizations of Academy City are ever eager to advance scientific knowledge or gain a competitive edge. Zealously so. I reigned them in once I decided to meet you."
They were almost lab rats. How about that?
"What gave us away?" he asked.
"Those who exert influence upon the Level Fives are always scrutinized."
In other words, Tattletale got them in trouble with her big mouth.
Jaune leveled a deadpan stare at her. She turned to look off into the distance.
The voice continued on, unaware (or simply ignoring) their byplay. "In any case, your value in regard to the Puzzle exceeds the potential of their research, and it earns you a measure of reprieve. Work for me, and that protection becomes permanent. I shield my people from harm." Crowley made the weighty promise with the air of one talking about the weather.
Mulling on it, Tattletale gave a suggestion. "Give us a minute." She placed the phone on the ground, and pulled Jaune with her to a short distance away, where they put their heads together to discuss the offer.
He was for it. A load of tech better than what they can find on their own, and legal to boot, to juxtapose an unknown number of hostile forces waiting in the wing—the carrot was delicious, and the stick barbed with a blade attached. Part of the choice seemed out of their hand, yet even then he could see how it's rather simple to thread the needle to get everything they wanted.
As for Tattletale…caution may temper her greed, but her greed was great indeed. They reached an accord, albeit with a caveat—more of a quibble, really.
Returning to their places, Tattletale picked up the phone. Psyching herself up, she smiled like a fox.
"Well, I think we could be convinced. Let's negotiate that pay package, and see where it takes us from there, yeah?"
"Agreed. I shall provide you with a catalogue shortly."
"Cool. One thing, though."
Crowley waited, the phone silent.
Affecting nonchalance, she carried on, "I like to think of us as a meeting of equals. Nice to work with you."
There's the caveat. For whatever reason, Tattletale had vehemently protested the idea of being subordinate to a shadowy boss hidden behind a phone.
-o-
A cola delivery truck barreled down the avenue, accompanied by much screaming. Jaune sat in the driver seat, driving badly. Tattletale sat in the passenger seat, passenging badly.
"Slow down, the turn's here!" Her voice grew shrill. "Slow the fuck down!"
To ease the car into a gradual stop, Jaune pressed on the brake pedal with a light touch—by Remnant standard. The wheels locked up, screeching as it scraped over the asphalt. A frantic swing of the steering wheel sent the vehicle into a drift, the cargo box sweeping in an arc it was never designed for; Jaune winced mid-shriek as it clipped a sedan in passing. He hoped the owner didn't store anything in the trunk, because the entire back part was reduced to wreckage.
By now, the truck was perpendicular to the avenue, facing the street they were meant to enter and tilting dangerously; it's a coin flip whether it would fall on its side. Dredging up what knowledge he possessed on Earth vehicles and the study of momentum physics (which roughly matched his level of expertise in neuroscience), Jaune slammed on the throttle.
Tattletale's head banged against the headrest.
The truck shot forward, insofar that something of that size could, righting in the process via hocus-pocus Academy City magic that Jaune didn't understand. A safety measure doohickey that does a thingy was his best guess. Or just straight up magic. His ability to drive certainly had nothing to do with it. The one vehicle he had operated before today was his family's van. The important thing was that every rubber tire touched the road surface, and neither he nor Tattletale got hurt—and if they did, it was an injury Aura could heal in a minute. Better yet, it's a straight shot to their destination from here.
Following their established rhythm, he asked for the third time, "The car there is empty, right?"
Tattletale paused in soothing her throat (from the screaming). She craned her neck, nudging her power to draw a conclusion.
"Final check: empty. You're good to go. Slow down and give it a tap." Showing precisely how much she trusted him, Tattletale closed her eyes and braced for impact.
Jaune huffed, a tad miffed. He moved his foot over to the brake pedal again. Having learned his lesson, this time he applied less pressure.
"I don't feel us slowing down. Are you braking?" Tattletale cracked open one eye, peeking out between her fingers. Another bout of screaming promptly ensued.
The front of the truck and pretty much the whole body of the other car crumpled as they met in a metal-rending cacophony, with Jaune and Tattletale smashing against the deploying airbags. Laying there, waiting for the noise to die down, Jaune smelled the acrid scent of smoke beginning to waft up from the engine.
"Time to get out, Tattletale." He pushed the airbag to create space, then hopped down from the truck. Skipping a couple of steps away, he turned around to beheld the carnage. "Mission accomplished," he declared with pride.
He spotted Tattletale stumbling along in a dizzy stupor on the other side of the crash.
"We're"—she grabbed a street light for balance—"taking a smaller car next time."
"Whaaat? Don't say that. I really think I'm getting the hang of gas engines—the Combustion Dust I'm used to takes a firmer hand, is all. Besides, this is faster than fetching three or four cars." He pointed. "Look how we got most of the street with one truck, and I bet anybody seeing this would believe it's an accident."
"Because it was!"
"Ex-actly. They'd have a hard time peering past it, too, so they aren't going to be inclined to walk down it."
Which was part of the task requested by Crowley for this street, and many other spots around this district. Jaune and Tattletale weren't committing grand theft auto for fun.
Well, in truth, the voice on the line had neglected to clarify why he wanted his city plagued by a spree of vehicular disasters, simply that he was paying to make it happen. Jaune kind of figured things out for himself from the specifications—there needed to be less than so-and-so space for egress, should take place near enough to the mouth of the street that a person would notice it, while distant enough to discourage further scrutiny, etc.
They were blocking off the streets, but with subtlety.
Rejoining his partner, he asked, "Where to next?"
Tattletale retrieved her phone from the utility belt of her costume (donned once again now that she was 'on the job'). On it, a new text awaited them. She checked what it said, then referred to the navigation app.
"End of this street. Loop around the traffic circle, and take the second exit. Scene's clear, so just car work. He wants us to knock out access to the footbridge crossing that section of the stream. Aaaand"—she scrolled down—"a side order of ramming a car into the ice cream parlor near that."
That's a first.
"The heck does he have against the ice cream parlor? What, it gave him bad service or something?"
She shrugged. "He didn't mention. That said, these online reviews suggest that a lot of people would cheer for us if they knew what we're going to do."
Fifteen minutes later, the pair exited a ruined storefront, ice cream cones in hand.
"I gotta say, Tattletale. After fourteen counts of stealing cars, and now vandalism—"
"Pretty sure it's called malicious mischief in this case. We committed 'wanton and gleeful' destruction instead of mere destruction."
"Gleeful?"
"You were laughing. That makes it a worse offense."
"Huh. Malicious mischief sounds so whimsical, though. Like it should be less serious than vandalism…Anyway, my point was that after hijacking a bunch of cars and getting up to some malicious mischief, stealing an ice cream cone barely feels like a crime anymore. Isn't that odd?"
Tattletale just grinned wider, and licked her vanilla ice cream.
Once they finished with the impromptu snack break, Jaune washed down the taste of chocolate with a water bottle from his Pocket, then tossed it in a trash can in passing. (Because littering was one step too far!) He and Tattletale then followed the instructions for their next job, traveling downstream to double back on the other side of the water. Jaune got them a ride, seizing control of the car's computer through his amazing ability to press a button on a car-hacking device Crowley had provided them via delivery drone, and off they went to a new destination.
At first, he had a hard time believing that the city government funded a car-hacking device. Tattletale explained it as law enforcement agencies needing to know how to commit crime to stop crime. As was sometimes the case during his travels with her, that factoid rang strangely close to the Huntsman training and mindset instilled at Beacon, though framed in a light that made him very uncomfortable.
She laughed like he told a great joke when he mentioned it.
They soon arrived at another Academy City road, one as unfamiliar as the rest, and set to their task. Since the scene wasn't cleared, meaning there were people lying around unconscious due to the 'Puzzle' that Tattletale and Crowley kept harping about, this involved his favorite part of the job. Carrying people to safety.
He began at one end of the street, hefting a student up and putting him on his shoulder. A quick jog to the closest building, and he deposited the person inside. (No fancy tech this time—if a door's locked, Crowley had given them a crowbar.) Next was an office worker, then an old lady, followed by her husband, and so on.
Early on, Tattletale also pitched in to move the victims...until Jaune asked her to stop. She had an unfortunate tendency to get lazy, whereupon she'd start dragging bodies along by their feet, uncaring of faces scraping on the pavement. Her job now was to move ahead of him, removing phones as a precaution before he got there to transport the people.
Finally, once every victim laid safe and sound out of harm's way, they capped off their heartwarming and honest efforts with a car pileup to deter people from traveling in that direction.
It's not the sort of thing he expected from this arrangement going in. It's annoying and exhausting compared to driving Earth cars, especially with his current easily-winded state. The victims felt like potato sacks in how their weight shifts and rolls at inconvenient times, and liable to slip out of his grasp at the slightest mistake. Progress moved at a snail's pace.
He loved it. Rescue work. Plus a side of demolition derby, but the general thrust of that probably counted as 'rescue work'-adjacent.
The completion of this task saw a beaming Jaune regrouping with Tattletale. Her face was buried in the map on her phone.
"Where to, captain?" he joked.
"None yet. I'm…Here, check this out. It's easier to see for yourself." She turned her phone slightly, inviting him to come closer. On the map were a series of pins she had placed. Tattletale pointed to one. "This is the job on this street. The other pins are the rest of the jobs we've done. There are gaps, but they roughly form two routes." She drew lines with a finger to illustrate. "Interestingly, they intersect. Right at…that spot." She tapped a pin on the map, which brought up a picture and a name.
The name he did not recognize. However, the building, the sign out front, the smaller pictures of food available there…
"A diner?"
"Yup. It's obvious that we're shepherding two parties to meet at the diner."
So that's it. Crowley had contracted them to help fix a match. His goal, to neutralize one side or the other—or both.
"Nice detective work, Tattletale." He said, impressed.
Tattletale smirked, basking in the praise.
"We stay out of these lanes as much as possible," she advised as the phone dinged with a new message. "Wouldn't want to kick things off by accident."
For the next hour, they continued in the same vein, moving bodies and crashing cars. Under Crowley's directions, they racked up a couple more instances of malicious mischief, and Jaune became convinced their employer held many, many petty grudges. And against a dozen different fields—restaurants, newspapers, music stores, accountants, publishing houses.
Now that Tattletale had pointed it out, he could tell how they're closing the gaps. Over time, things shaped up to, not a full-on blockade, but a mild suggestion to follow specific routes. So artful was it, that he got caught by the trap once or twice, his feet simply making a particular choice when he encountered an intersection they had visited (wrecked) previous. Their actions culminated in one big chessboard, playing to one man's purpose.
It therefore came as little surprise that after getting out of the last car, which Jaune launched onto a sidewalk to block the path, the pair received not a text, but a call. Tattletale answered it.
"Well done. You've completed your tasks right on time for the phase to begin."
Tattletale buffed her nails on her costume, adopting a carefree tone. "Psh. It was no big deal. Easy-peasy."
A laugh on the line. "I have your next assignment. You may see combat, and thus payment will draw from the second pool of items, as agreed."
Jaune leaned in, much more alert. This was the arena where he shined.
"Color me interested. Can you give some details?" he asked.
"An esper has gone rogue. He intends to abduct a child under my custody. I would like you to rendezvous with a different group of agents tasked with neutralizing the threat."
Jaune and Tattletale shared a look.
An Esper. The local variant of a Huntsman or parahuman. Someone with powers beyond the ordinary. Dangerous. Fascinating.
As for the motive…Jaune wouldn't mind introducing his fist to the esper's face. Tattletale has worse plans in store—kidnappers topped the list of people she despised.
"Alright," he said, coldly. "What kind of person are we dealing with, then?"
The voice on the line answered.
"They call him Accelerator."
Author's Notes: (。￣-￣)
Vento. Basic explanation: She magic. Hate her = instant loss.
A bit more: Those who hold hostility towards Vento will be robbed of air in their lungs. Theorized by characters in the novel to have different levels severity, but by the point where they regard her as 'the enemy', they have hit the max level where the air is just barely enough to keep them alive.
Guesses on how Jaune and Tattletale survived their encounter.
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ExpWarlock
Exp
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Thanks for the Chapter!
and Tats was thinking about Jaune
.
Also, Accelerator, as said before I haven't seen a lot from Toaru but I guess they have to team up with Touma to be able to defeat him
Or maybe the Outsiders powers can't be felt by him and thus they can use them to fight/run away
Keep Cooking King!
Jaune is Jaune and a good Golden Retriever
and Tats was thinking about Jaune
.
Also, Accelerator, as said before I haven't seen a lot from Toaru but I guess they have to team up with Touma to be able to defeat him
Or maybe the Outsiders powers can't be felt by him and thus they can use them to fight/run away
Keep Cooking King!
MethodicBibliophile
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I think you meant Level Fives. Also, I hope that Jaune and Tattletale don't make things worse in this dimension, because at this point Accelerator is actually trying to rescue the child, and Crowley probably has a higher bodycount than Bonesaw. Right now, I have no idea what Crowley's ultimate plans are.
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Metabolicjosh
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Tattletale bullied the girl to make Jaune sympathize with her. She tricked herself into liking the girl too.
Clever
Clever
Kwame
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June might win that fight. His soul BS probably works like magic to accelerators field. Meaning the math probably doesn't exist just like magic. At least until he gets wings.
The problem is Kihara probably is one of the people interested in opening Jaune up, so he might just come in when both are tired.
Cheerio
Know what you're doing yet?
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I am not sure Aleister even intends for them to fight Accelerator. He has to be able to guess his lie will fall apart if Tattletale meets Accelerator or Kihara Amata's forces, so I'm guessing he just wants to force them into contact with Kihara Amata so that Kihara Amata can capture them as research subjects. I don't think he's doing this to get out of paying them (Aleister has could throw out his trash, and that would be more than enough to shock and wow our duo).
Topast
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That means he might not get destroyed in an instant, he is still going to lie broken on the ground in around a minute.
PepeTheFrog
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To quote 'Dark Matter' (a scrub that got his ass beat by Accelerator): "Aleister is a fan of failsafes and always moves forward multiple plans concurrently. But he also always prepares an alternative option."
He could be trying to find another of Accelerators weaknesses to magic, trying to appease the Kiharas, actually trying to help the Kiharas, testing Jaune and Tattletale's limits against Accelerator, trying to remove Jaune and Tattletale as unforeseen variables in his other plans... The list goes on.
riotous living
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I wonder if Tattletale just considers the girl to be a lesser and not worth being an enemy. An immense ego is a blessing and a curse when it comes to mental magics
Lopezelpesado
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Strangers are always a pain...
JangGun
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This story is kind of tiring to read. I find myself scrolling ahead constantly cause of the lack of action. I think BCF held my attention for longer. It was really amazing in the early parts, like I was in tears at how good it was, I felt something! But, since you added tattletale, it's gone down in quality and excitement. Her constant manipulations towards Jaune and his stupidity when it comes to recognizing them takes a real toll on the enjoyment. The best parts of the story are when he is by himself interacting with character who are not her, like Solaire. This is just my opinion though and I'm not asking the author to change the story.
DarkDark01
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Thanks for the chapter! It was as great as always, but this cliffhanger is definitely going to keep me up at night lol.
Tohu
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I don't even know where to start. First of all, thank you for the update.
Tattletale really shining here. In the world where you need to solve a puzzle to find out how someone's ability works, she is probably the most valuable asset. Jaune was one moment away from falling under Vento's magic. Can you imagine how many mines he escaped thanks to her? People can say whatever they want but she really is the most valuable person he could have take in this multiversal adventure.
It never occurred to me that they never really needed to do anything in Academcity. Unlike other universes where a smallest change can lead to unforseen consequences, everything in Academcity is under control all the time. Crowley would just use one of his back up plans to return everything back on track. So Jaune and Lisa could have just take what they wanted and leave without any problems.
I agree that Crowley's true motive is to see how new never seen powers would react with esper abilities. Also, he probably wants them to join Accelerator since there is no way that Lisa will not figure out what is actually happening. So joining Accelerator to get Last Order back seems like a natural development of events. The hardest part will be to persuade local albino that they want to help.
I can see that you made a few preparations in advance. Jaune don't have points to spend on medicine that could heal Accelerator from his brain injury and If I remember correctly the one who helped him defeat Kihara Amata was Index. And who has magical scrolls that only a living library of 50,000 grimoire could understand?
Apparently, Jaune started to see things as team RWBY did in canon. After doing a lot of illegal and crazy stuff unpunished you starting to lose limitations. Someone have to remind him about moral boundaries and common sense.
Tattletale really shining here. In the world where you need to solve a puzzle to find out how someone's ability works, she is probably the most valuable asset. Jaune was one moment away from falling under Vento's magic. Can you imagine how many mines he escaped thanks to her? People can say whatever they want but she really is the most valuable person he could have take in this multiversal adventure.
It never occurred to me that they never really needed to do anything in Academcity. Unlike other universes where a smallest change can lead to unforseen consequences, everything in Academcity is under control all the time. Crowley would just use one of his back up plans to return everything back on track. So Jaune and Lisa could have just take what they wanted and leave without any problems.
I agree that Crowley's true motive is to see how new never seen powers would react with esper abilities. Also, he probably wants them to join Accelerator since there is no way that Lisa will not figure out what is actually happening. So joining Accelerator to get Last Order back seems like a natural development of events. The hardest part will be to persuade local albino that they want to help.
I can see that you made a few preparations in advance. Jaune don't have points to spend on medicine that could heal Accelerator from his brain injury and If I remember correctly the one who helped him defeat Kihara Amata was Index. And who has magical scrolls that only a living library of 50,000 grimoire could understand?
Apparently, Jaune started to see things as team RWBY did in canon. After doing a lot of illegal and crazy stuff unpunished you starting to lose limitations. Someone have to remind him about moral boundaries and common sense.
Agent Orange
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Isn't Blank merely preventing Tats from using her Sherlock Scan on him specifically?
Turning the Blank on shouldn't mess with Tats unless she focuses on him.
Tattletale: "I told you I could seduce him if I felt like it."
Gee I wonder why that is
I know that Combustion Dust is canon because Yang's bike apparently runs on it but it always struck me as a bizzare design choice. They have simple means of powering electric engines (Lighting Dust) or even steam engines (Steam Dust). Why would Remnant inventors go out of their way to make an ICE and fuel equivalents if mechanically simpler alternatives exist?
Oh no. I sense Cops and Robbers speech.
My familiarity with Railgun comes from a single SI fanfic so I have no idea who these parties are supposed to be.
Frakir's brother
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Hmm to me it kinda feels like the time to grab another person for the ride. Tattletale and Jaune make a pretty good team, but the dynamic isn't perfect and this seems like a verse where plenty might wanna tag along.
MethodicBibliophile
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In this arc Accelerator and Index meet each other at a restaurant, which is important for Index finding out about Last Order and saving her later that day, so my money is on them.
NineYetis
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Interesting developments.
Jaune didn't register anything she did as weird or worthy of scorn; Tattletale prevented him from making the connection of who caused the sleeping city. Tattletale saw through the attempt; thus, it didn't affect her.
Jaune didn't register anything she did as weird or worthy of scorn; Tattletale prevented him from making the connection of who caused the sleeping city. Tattletale saw through the attempt; thus, it didn't affect her.
Agent Orange
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Index being Touma's roommate? That's also a walking, talking spell archive?
Columbiad
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Wouldn't Tattletale have picked up on his ill intent if that was the case though? She'd probably be especially cautious about an alternate version of "The Wickedest Man In the World" and triple-check to see if he has nefarious motives. Unless this Crowley's so brilliant or deceptive that he can manage the doublethink needed to plot against people without consciously thinking he's plotting against them.
Saif Omar
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Holy Shit man! I heard of shooting your own foot but Jaune just nuked himself.
LazyAutumnMoon
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The guys below got a bunch of it, but if you still have any more questions in specific, feel free to ask!
Thanks for reading!
Tattletale was very insistent that she was not thinking about Jaune. She wouldn't lie, would she?
Put together, you guys got the gist of it!
Vento is a magician, which stands opposed to science. She comes into the city, the center of the science side, to declare herself their enemy and that she's going to destroy them. It almost-100% guarantees that anyone who cares about Academy City would hate her as soon as they learn about her. It's a great plan that takes advantage of the mechanics of her magic.
Jaune and Lisa have no clue who she is, and no loyalty whatsoever to Academy City. They don't even know that there's a conflict between magic and science.
Due to Vento's outfit and weapon, Jaune's first impression of her was 'like a Huntress'. Right off the bat, it's a positive opinion.
The insults affected him some, hence the start of breathing problems.
Once Lisa's distraction and bullying comes into play, he had no time to develop a stronger sense of hostility, and even began feeling sorry for Vento.
Lisa throws everything at him to keep him off-balance and confused, the clues he picked up on the situation going nowhere.
The whole scene is pretty much a battle where Tattletale attacks her ally instead of her opponent.
As for Lisa...
Vento's entire look and attitude is built around triggering her magic spell, banking on the fact that whether people knew or not, they'd still be affected.
It's a deliberately over-the-top act that screams of her intention for Lisa to see through.
Lisa would have hated Vento if she suspects the woman was smarter than her, but when Vento's plan was that obvious for her to decipher? That made Vento look pretty dumb to Lisa. Her favorite kind of person, someone who's no real threat at all to her intelligence.
From then on, she reinforces the sentiment to herself, saying how Vento was pitiful and easy because Lisa was so smart.
Smug fox gets smugger, was her defensive strategy.
Jaune and Lisa have no clue who she is, and no loyalty whatsoever to Academy City. They don't even know that there's a conflict between magic and science.
Due to Vento's outfit and weapon, Jaune's first impression of her was 'like a Huntress'. Right off the bat, it's a positive opinion.
The insults affected him some, hence the start of breathing problems.
Once Lisa's distraction and bullying comes into play, he had no time to develop a stronger sense of hostility, and even began feeling sorry for Vento.
Lisa throws everything at him to keep him off-balance and confused, the clues he picked up on the situation going nowhere.
The whole scene is pretty much a battle where Tattletale attacks her ally instead of her opponent.
As for Lisa...
Vento's entire look and attitude is built around triggering her magic spell, banking on the fact that whether people knew or not, they'd still be affected.
It's a deliberately over-the-top act that screams of her intention for Lisa to see through.
Lisa would have hated Vento if she suspects the woman was smarter than her, but when Vento's plan was that obvious for her to decipher? That made Vento look pretty dumb to Lisa. Her favorite kind of person, someone who's no real threat at all to her intelligence.
From then on, she reinforces the sentiment to herself, saying how Vento was pitiful and easy because Lisa was so smart.
Smug fox gets smugger, was her defensive strategy.
I can't stop laughing at the image of Aleister Crowley just pointing everybody he owes money to at Accelerator.
The why of Crowley's actions may be revealed at some point.
Nice. Thanks for catching that!
The why of Crowley's actions may be revealed at some point x 2
The why of Crowley's actions may be revealed at some point x 3 (The part of me that wants to spill all the details is intensifying with each passing second.)
The why of Crowley's actions may...actually, this is okay. 'His plan is all the plans' pretty much sums it up.
The specifics of some of them will be sprinkled around in the plot.
Jaune - Thinkers are even worse...
Lisa - *offended fox noises*
Funny thing, quite a few people told me they did not like the early chapters. It's great to hear that you did.
For the events taking place in Worm, fitting the themes of Worm, I wrote a tragedy. That's why it hits the highs and lows you saw, and seemed to have enjoyed.
Thing is, throwing tragedies around willy-nilly would detract from those highs and lows. I write them as highlights, not common features.
As for things like unideal companions, battles not fought, the flaws and strengths of a character and where it leads them...they are components of the overarching themes in this story.
Optimism had me initially thinking the portion on Accelerator could fit in this chapter. But then it took 10k words to get here.
Thanks for reading!
Academy City really is turning out to be a fascinating place to put these characters in. So many moving parts, so many different little ways they can interact with it despite the disparity in power.
As far as Jaune knows, him being in her view while under the effect of Blank throws off her power to a significant degree, so much so that she had to ask him to turn it off, back in Dunwall.
As far as Jaune knows.
They weren't the only ones to meet at a restaurant.
The description of the voice on the line was very deliberate on my part.
And I figured that, unless she was studying to be a cult leader in her spare time, the chances of a homeless teenage hitchhiker turned career supervillainess having knowledge of the historical Aleister Crowley beyond his name to be remote. Her life as we hear of it from Wildbow has been rather busy.