It ended in a draw between me and Fox, annoyingly. Kid was skilled and it showed, helped me learn a lot in a fairly short amount of time. We were far from done, but it was a much-needed start. I was almost looking forward to whatever came next.

After sparring for what felt like far longer than it actually was, I changed and muddled through the rest of the day. Got the grounds keeping done in short order, then took a nap. The afternoon sun did wonders for me. Having to regularly re-summon my aura each time it broke took its toll, but some quality rest helped take the edge off. Some number of winks later, I went back to my team's room and started prepping dinner. My teammates showed up not long after that, and we continued going over the information we had so far, while ruminating over possible ideas about where the Dust was being held long term. We didn't get far before JNPR showed up for their nightly tithe, but it was good practice to keep the facts straight whenever we could.

As we settled into our usual spots, I began to reheat some jalapeno, onion, and crunchy mutfruit I'd sautéed beforehand. The mutfruit wasn't fully ripened yet, and it played oddly with the onion, but paired well with the pepper's heat. I didn't have a good substitute for lakelurk meat or Blamco mac and cheese to work with, so I had to improvise. Added some potatoes for body and starch, some cheese I squirreled away from the cafeteria, and a few leftover steaks I had kicking around. I added them all to the skillet and either warmed or cooked them to the appropriate points. Once there, I took a bowl of eggs I had pre-scrambled and poured it into the skillet, eliciting a hissing crackle as they flash fried against the hot metal.

Brought together like that, it would be a reasonable stand in for Wasteland Omelets.

Or, at least, one giant one instead individuals… Which might have made it a frittata, actually.

"Alright, we've got a bit before dinner's on." I said, lowering the temperature of my hotplate. "So, before we dive head first into anything, does anyone-"

"WEAPONS!" Ruby shouted.

"… Have any questions?" I finished "Because I know it's a lot for you all to digest."

"… e-heh-" Ruby chuckled, bashful "-sorry."

"You're fine." I said, waving her off. At least she had one more reason to be invested. "The question stands though, just want to make sure we're all still on the same page."

"It has been hard to follow at times." Pyrrha admitted "However, I'm certain we're all mostly understanding of you've explained."

"You're sure about that?" I asked.

"… Mostly." Pyrrha said, giving me a lopsided smile

"… Alright then." I said, turning my head to look at by my teammates and JNPR "Remember, if you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask them. That's the whole point of this, after all."

"There was war." Nora said.

"Hmm?"

"Your world, it had a huge war." Nora said, in uncharacteristically calm fashion "Because you guys were running out of fuel. You don't know who started it, but the explosions were nuclear. The same thing you used to power everything else."

"…"

"The explosions also somehow caused lots of people to turn into monsters, Like ghouls and Supermutants. Though part of that was also because they got sick with something called the FEV. It also effected animals too, giving you two head cows, and giant chameleons!"

Nora's teammates began to stare at her in stunned silence. A sentiment mirrored by both myself and my teammates.

"-And then there's all kinds of people that are trying to live there." Nora continued, not losing steam "The NCR thinks they can make the world look like it did before the war, Caesar's Legion wants to enslave everyone, and New Vegas is somewhere in the middle. There are lots of other people besides them, like the Brotherhood of Steel, and The Enclave; who really want to make the wasteland look like it did before the war. They're also both really big jerks. There's also Joshua Graham, who helped create Caesar's legion, but got lit on fire and tossed into a canyon!"

"…"

"-He also didn't have a friend named Jojo."

Both my team and Nora's teammates stared quietly at the girl for a moment, a broad smile worming its way onto her face.

"… Nora when I said to ask if you had any questions, I wasn't doubting whether you'd been listening."

"Well, I wanted to prove it!" Nora said, giving a determined smirk "I'mma ace that test!"

"… Nora, there's not actually going to be a test." Ren said, giving his partner a sidelong look.

"There most certainly is now." I corrected, amused "Might even earn herself an A+."

"YEAH!" Nora squawked, causing Ren to wince. Then he rolled his eyes and tried to school his feature. Not that it kept me from seeing the small, bemused smile he was trying to hide.

"But, all that aside, it doesn't really give us much of a direction for tonight." I continued "We could do weapons, like I promised Ruby we would, but I honestly don't think I'd have much to contribute that would surprise most of you."

"What do you mean?" Ruby asked, curious.

"Well, think about it: You've seen some of my weapons. Barring the fact that they don't pull any of the transformation nonsense that yours do, are they really any mechanically different from what you've got?"

Ruby paused for a moment, thinking "… No, they kinda aren't."

"My point exactly." I looked to everyone else "I've got no problems talking shop about weapons, but that's a rather niche topic. I know for a lot of people the boredom would be a hell all on its own. Does my world have weapons that yours doesn't? Yeah, probably. Is it worth slogging through every bit of minutia to get to them? No, probably not."

With that admittance, I noticed a change wash over Most of my teammates and JNPR. Their expressions becoming softened and relaxed, like they'd been bracing themselves for something. Which honestly more than proved my point. The only real noticeable exception was Ruby, and to lesser extents Jaune and Nora. All of whom seemed rather disappointed.

"Aww~" Ruby whined "I'd been looking forward to that."

"Hey, we can talk shop another time." I offered "Probably when I feel comfortable showing you some of it."

Ruby's eyes widened slightly, darting up to mine. "You have some of them with you?"

"Of course." I answered "Not much of a surprise if you can't actually use it."

Ruby's silver eyes began to glitter and sparkle like the metal they were named for. "I'm holding you to that, it's a promise!"

"Whatever you say, Tiny." I affirmed, smiling "Now then, as for tonight, we could try for something similar."

"Such as?" Snowflake asked.

"Some tech we have in the Mojave that I haven't seen here." I answered "You already know about some of the big ones, like what we used to keep the lights on and set the world on fire, but there are others. It may not necessarily be on topic for everything, but it'd probably help give you all a better of idea of where we were at before the war."

"… I suppose that could be interesting." Snowflake admitted.

"I agree." Pyrrha added, nodding "You have made it sound as though the world before yours could be as wondrous as it was full of strife. Surely there existed as many things similar to our world as there are different."

"You don't know the half of it." I agreed, already trying to make a mental map of what we'd be talking about "Assuming we're all in agreement, we'll do that tonight."

As per usual I was given a round of nods and general agreement. At this point it was just kind of a formality. What else were they going to do? If they said no, we'd get nowhere. But it did at least ensure they were more inclined to pay attention. Even if it wasn't everyone's particular topic of interest.

I folded the fritta-melet over on itself and turned off the hot plate. Letting the residual heat from the skillet radiate into the mound of egg and fillings. It was pretty much ready, but giving it a few moments to rest before cutting it wouldn't be the end of the world.

"Alright, so, where to start?" I asked "Name something, I'll see what I can do to fill in the gaps."

"Umm…" Ruby hummed, mulling it over.

"Why don't we start with the thing on your wrist." Weiss offered "Your… Pip-boy?"

JNPR looked at Weiss in confusion. I was pretty sure this wasn't the first time we'd addressed my pip-boy, but perhaps it was. I saw Jaune mouthing the word like it was, anyway.

"Correct, and what about it?" I asked.

"Well, what exactly does it do?" Weiss continued "You carry it everywhere with you, but you've hardly explained what it actually does. Outside of be completely confusing, anyway."

"Well, that's because, like so many things, it is just a little bit confusing. Just less than other things." I explained, holding my symbiotic hunk of steel out to them. "The name 'Pip-boy' is largely an acronym, meaning Personal Information Processer. Functioning a bit like a combination of notepad, map, compass, and cardiograph among other things."

"Cardiograph?" Ruby asked.

"The heart monitors they use in hospitals." I answered "All Pip-boys have one built in to help monitor your body, along with other sensors to serve similar functions. Such as monitoring blood toxicity, hormone levels, blood sugar, hydration, and the like. It takes them and produces estimates of your theoretical limits and helps you with things like weight management, and your current physical condition. All the things it would need to be able to tell you to help keep you from dying."

"Why would it need to be able to tell you those things?" Weiss asked.

"Well gee, it's almost like they were preparing for the end of the world." I answered, "Aside from the obvious though, it saw use by military and governmental personnel as well. Knowing things like that at any given time would make it a pretty useful tool. Aside from that, it has a built-in compass for orienteering purposes, and a navigational system concurrent to it. As long as I have a microfilm map of the area I'm in, I can mark off important locations, or have the Pip-boy do it automatically."

"Wasn't it also able to find Blake when she ran off?" Yang asked, giving her partner a sly look. Blake, in turn, just rolled her eyes.

"It was and is." I explained "Because I had a map to work off of, my Pip-boy was able to generate a location for Blake after enough information was gathered. It's not always accurate, but it often provides enough of a heading to work off of. It can keep multiple of them going at one time too, and I can organize them under specific tabs for ease of use."

"So you can find anyone as long as you have a map?" Jaune asked.

"Not quite. It's not a sure-fire way to find something because it requires very specific circumstances to flag the system to actually do it. I can get it running manually with enough effort, but when it comes to most situations, this thing decides whether or not it actually wants to help."

"You almost make it sound like its alive." Blake said, snidely.

"Shit, for all I know it might be." I responded "Wouldn't be the first, or at least the only, semi-sentient piece of metal I've come across. At the very least it might just have rudimentary AI built into it but, again, I really have no idea."

"Cool~" Ruby cooed.

"What happens if you don't have a map of the area?" Ren asked "You said it works if you have one, what if you don't?"

"Then I go in blind." I answered "I didn't have one of Vale when I first got here, but my compass and the nav-system worked anyway. In enclosed spaces, that may be unmapped, my Pip-boy can generate short-term maps using sonar, but it's useless in open areas. Supposedly they made modules for the Pip-boy to produce its own microfilm maps, but they're exceedingly rare, and I've never seen one."

"That… sounds pretty useful." Ren admitted.

"It also has an inventory system that helps you keep track of your personal belongings, again, like a notepad." I continued "Using the sensory data it can compute out a theoretical maximum carrying capacity for your body, and warn you if you're going to surpass it."

"Carrying capacity?" Blake asked.

"Carry capacity, carry weight, call it what you want, it's the same thing." I answered "It's basically how much extraneous weight my body can physically carry before it starts to impact my mobility and stamina. It's typically much greater than a lot of people would think."

"So it's how much you can carry and still be able to move normally." Ruby simplified.

"Bingo."

"Is that really something you'd find useful?" Snowflake asked.

"More than you'd think." I told her "Remember, in the wasteland, there's no telling where or when you might find food and water sometimes. Monitoring how much of it you're carrying on you, and how badly your own equipment impacts your performance, can be a lifesaver under the right circumstances. Can't tell you how many times I was reduced to crawling my way back just because I didn't want to let a few supplies go to waste."

"Back where?" Yang asked.

"The Lucky 38, typically." I answered automatically "It's as close to home as I've got back in the Mojave. But there were other places, depending on where I was."

"Where was it?"

"It was on the Strip, in the heart of New…" I stopped myself, realizing I was treading into dangerous territory "-Y'know, that's a bit off topic."

Yang, however, didn't let that go unnoticed, and a sinister smirk crept onto her face. "The heart of New Vegas?" She asked, more finishing my sentence than anything "Didn't you say that was one of the 'major' groups?

I couldn't help but notice the rest of them were, rather eagerly, leaning closer. Clearly intrigued by that little tidbit.

"Let it go." I said, coolly "It's off topic, and I'm not ready to talk about it."

Yang gave me a coy look, cocking an eyebrow at me. Unbeknownst to her, we were currently in the midst of a very intense staredown.

Then she shrugged, smirk never leaving her face. "Hey, I was just curious."

"That's fine, I'm just not ready to talk about it."

"Gotta say though, landing a place to stay in one of the few 'safe' places in your world… sure is Lucky."

"Yeah, it i-…"

Yang's smirk broke into a broad grin.

"…You just don't stop, do you?" I grated.

"Nope, you can call it your good fortune."

"… Moving on." I growled, ignoring the fact that the rest of them were getting a chuckle out of it. "It can store text files, and read pre-written ones off of Holotapes."

"Holotapes?" Weiss asked.

"Solid-state hardware." I tried to explain "They were typically used to store simple forms of data. Text, audio, numerical sequences, that sort of thing."

"What about pictures?" Ruby asked.

I paused and thought on it for a moment, then shook my head. "Not that I've ever seen. You could probably boil a picture down into a binary sequence if you found a way to do it. As far I'm aware though, we didn't. Besides the fact that storing it on a Holotape might not have been feasible if the file was too large. So people just tended to stick to actual photography instead."

"Wasn't it also able to pull information from our scrolls?" Snowflake asked, holding up the device in question "You tapped it against them, and suddenly you had it."

"It was, but I'm not quite sure how that works." I admitted "My Pip-boy can connect to most computers, and it can scan written documents to create an electronic back-up, but how that translated to your scrolls I have no idea…" I pondered it for a moment, running a few plausible ideas through my head, but not really finding one that stuck out. So I shrugged, as long as it worked, I didn't really need to have a concrete explanation for it right this moment. "If it weren't for the fact it does work, I could try a couple of different ways to connect until we actually got an answer. As it stands though, I don't really have a clue. Maybe it's able to scan the data off your scrolls like it does paper, maybe it's already linked to the CCT in some way, or, again, maybe it does have an AI built into it and its auto-determining what it can do to help me. But I've got no real answers to that one. I guess this is just one of those rare times where outright success screwed me."

Snowflake nodded her head thoughtfully, but had nothing more to add.

"It also has a built-in radio, for entertainment." I continued "Because… well, it'd get boring wandering the blasted remnants of the world in silence."

"Maybe soldiers used it to receive orders?" Ren said, offering a viable alternative "You did say that it was used by the military."

"I did, but as far as I know that wasn't the case." I countered "Remember, resources were growing scarce towards the end, so giving every grunt in the field a Pip-boy probably wasn't feasible. Especially considering you don't see these things regularly in the wasteland. Or in working order, at any rate… Still, there's probably some merit to that idea. The only drawback is that most of them don't have any broadcasting capabilities. So you might be able to receive new or updated orders, but they'd struggle to serve much function beyond that."

Of course, if you've got something that supplements that equipment like, say, a bomb collar with a built-in microphone, you could bypass that limitation. But there was no reason to share that tidbit yet.

"What kinds of radio did you get?" Ruby asked.

"Most kinds, actually." I answered "Pip-boys were pre-built to pick up most radio frequencies. I've managed to get ones that reach into the ULF range."

"Uh…" Ruby said, giving me an awkward look "I meant music?"

"Oh… you should be more clear."

"Sorry."

"You're good." I nodded "-most of what I hear on the radio is music from before the war. It varies depending on where you are, closer to Vegas you'll get Big Band and Swing Jazz type stuff. Further out, you'll probably get country music, maybe a little rockabilly."

"Rock-a-wha?" Ruby asked.

"It's kinda like country music, but with less acoustics." I explained "But, avoiding going off topic, that just about covers my Pip-boy, and most others like it." I said, concluding "Barring one or two other features I don't feel the need to talk about at the moment, this's basically what they are."

"So… it's a computer that you wear on your wrist?" Yang asked.

"I'd say it's more a computer that's a part of me than anything." I answered.

"Because you use it so much?" Ruby asked, completely sincere.

"No, because I can't actually take it off." I answered, trying to worm a finger under its edge "It's got some sort of biometric lock that keeps it hermetically sealed to your body as long as the user is alive. Normally not a problem, since it keeps people from stealing and using some else's pip-boy prematurely, but isn't otherwise comfortable."

"So how's that a problem for you?" Blake asked.

"Because I'm not the original owner." I answered, rubbing a phantom itch, just next to my Pip-boy "These things were still fairly rare before the war, so they couldn't hand them out willy-nilly. The way most of them wound up in the wasteland was thanks to Vault dwellers since most were given some variant of one upon entering the Vault."

"Then… how did you get one?" Weiss asked, giving me a perturbed look.

"I didn't kill anyone for it, if that's what you're worried about." I groused "It was a gift to help me get back on my feet. The doctor that pulled the bullets out of my head was a former Vault dweller, alongside his wife. His wife had passed away some time ago, and he believed, while I was still recovering, I'd make good use of her Pip-boy. Unfortunately, he forgot about the biometric lock, and didn't reset it before I put it on."

"So… it's actually stuck to your arm?"

"Until I'm either dead or lose my arm, yeah. Which really sucks, because I've got this itch just underneath it that I've wanted to scratch for the longest time but can't reach. I honestly do not want to think about the amount of dead skin and dirt built up under it either."

"… That's just gross." Nora commented, blithe

"Don't remind me." I groused "But, Yang's assertion about it being a computer I can carry with me isn't too far off the mark. Barring the fact that it's not inherently connected to a network, it shares many of the same functionalities pre-war computer terminals did. Granted, it's not as powerful as some of them, or as specialized, but it fits the generalized mold of one."

"So it's kind of like a scroll." Ruby concluded "You can keep track of stuff on it, and it helps you keep yourself safe."

"Well… yes and no." I agreed "While I can agree that they share a number of similarities, they differ in some pretty notable ways." I pulled my scroll from my inventory, holding it between my fingers "While your scrolls are built with the idea of tracking aura in mind, my Pip-boy is more concerned with your actual physical condition. While my Pip-boy can record and process information, it can't readily access a network of it without extraneous equipment. You can use your scrolls to contact other people, my Pip-boy can't without, again, extra equipment. My Pip-boy is purpose built to process all kind of information about my physical condition, and can adapt to include new information. As far as I'm aware though, Scrolls are limited to only being aware of their owner's aura. Honestly, it's a toss-up, one's better suited for solitary work, and the other's meant to aid in teamwork."

"It sounds more like you just don't want to admit scrolls might be more useful." Blake said snidely.

"Where did you get that?" Jaune asked, eyeing my still-rather-recent acquisition.

"Don't worry about it." I answered, flipping my scroll into my palm, getting a better grip.

Honestly though, I didn't have much use for a scroll. It just wasn't as suited to what I needed as my Pip-boy was, and at most served as a backup gauge for my aura, pointlessly redundant as that was. Really, I was really only holding onto it for information purposes. The White Fang hadn't thought to cut it out of the loop yet, so I could still use it to intercept messages. Given half a chance, I could probably figure out how to send some to my teammates…

"Speaking of, how exactly do I use one of these?" I asked, opening the transparent pane "I managed to send a few messages on it once, but other than that I've got no clue how it works."

"When?" Ruby asked, curious.

"Again, don't worry about it."

"… Well, you need someone else's Scroll ID to communicate with them." Ruby said, pulling out her scroll "What's yours?"

"Uh…"

I ran my finger over my scroll, working through its interfaces and screens as I tried to find an answer to that. Mercifully, it was intuitive, and I found what I was looking for under a tab for 'Personal Information'. Granted it, it wasn't my personal information, but I could always clear that out later. "… Are you looking for the Contact Code, or the actual scroll ID?"

"The first one."

"Aight… 914010169311125." I said "Now what?"

Ruby didn't answer me, instead she tapped at her scroll, holding it in both hands and using her thumbs. After a moment, she stopped, slid a finger across the pane, and smiled with satisfaction.

My scroll buzzed and, much like it had the previous night, the messages section gained a red exclamation mark beside it. I tapped it, and found an odd string of numbers, accompanied by a message.

[ID: 391414113151418151212]

[HI~ :D]

'…'

I looked at the message for a moment, before looking back to Ruby, who was smiling broadly. "Now we have your number." She said "And you can call us if you need help."

"Ha! You're funny." I said, spending a moment to figure out how to make it so I could change the contact name to Ruby's rather than some long string of numbers.

"You can use your scroll to access the CCT" Ruby continued "-but if you want to talk someone specifically you need their ID. After that, as long as you're in CCT range you can send them text messages, or short range messages… or call them."

"Ok, but what about outside of CCT range?" I asked.

"Then you can still send short range messages-" Ruby said, raising her scroll to her mouth, I heard mine beep, followed by her voice trickling out in stereo. "Kinda like this."

"Hm, ok, so it's kind of like short wave radio." I nodded "Good to know."

"You probably won't have to worry about being outside of CCT range though." Snowflake cut in "The towers broadcast rather far outside of kingdom limits, and work together with each other and various support towers to create a far-reaching network. As long as the main towers stay up, your scroll will almost always be able to connect to it."

"Ok… but what if the main towers go down?"

"Then you won't be able to, of course." Snowflake answered primly "Each kingdom's main broadcast tower is necessary to keep the entire system operational. If one goes down, so does the inter-kingdom network."

"… I'm pretty sure that's not how networking works."

Snowflake flushed slightly "Well, that's how it works. Without all four of them, the CCT isn't strong enough to allow global communications. With each tower lost, the weaker the CCT's overall signal."

"So I guess that means the support towers are just relays then." I said "They just amplify the signal from the main towers and make sure they can reach further and further out. Get enough of them strung around the world in series, and you've got global communications. Still not the same thing as a network though."

"And how's that?" Snowflake asked prudently.

"If it were a network, knocking out one tower wouldn't put the whole thing out of commission, at least not if it was built right. The CCT would be closer to a Broadcast tower than anything. Still effective, just not the same."

"I-I see." Snowflake huffed, apparently displeased at being corrected "W-well… This is off topic anyway!"

"Quite." I agreed "Let's try and get back to it, aight?"

"Please~" Nora whined.

"Alright… well, since we're on the topic anyway, why don't we just cover computers a little more, then we can try something else."

Nora's whine transitioned into a groan of displeasure.

"Hey, none of the sass, I'm feeding you, remember?"

"…Hmph." Nora huffed, crossing her arms, doing a passable imitation of Snowflake.

"Better." I said, shooting her a finger. "-So, computers. From what I've seen of them here, they're not too different from what we had in the wasteland in terms of function. They look more different than they actually are, really."

"In what way?" Pyrrha asked.

"Well, for one, their design and construction are completely different." I explained "Most terminals I came across in the Mojave are closer in line to cubes composed of steel and glass. Whereas the terminal I used in the CCT tower was, visually, much more streamlined and sleek. Rather than rely on mechanical input, everything seems based on some form of holographic display. Not to mention they appear to require half the materials to produce. Beyond aesthetics though, there isn't much truly separating them. The CCT certainly has the edge in communications, but not much else. Comparatively speaking, almost everything I was able to do using the CCT I'd have been able to accomplish back in the Mojave, and the required space, machinery, and energy would've been comparable to, if not a fraction of what the CCT uses."

Though I would also be willing to admit that the CCT was also handling a rather large amount of information at any given time. The caveat to that however, was that pre-war America often dealt with similar quantities of information, but didn't need to construct mile-high monoliths to handle it. Though a network mainframe the size of a passenger bus was still a mainframe the size of a passenger bus.

"That isn't really isn't a good explanation." Snowflake said.

"I'm sorry, would you prefer I get into all the minutia of how to open the command line and subvert firewalls so you can re-write the hard drive using binary?"

"NO!" Nora suddenly shouted, joined in chorus by Ruby and Snowflake.

"My point exactly." I answered "Unless that kind of thing is your speed, the nitty gritty tends to be both boring and confusing… Still, you can do it with more than just computers. There are plenty of other pieces of Old-World tech that run off of RobCo's U-OS."

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"What does Rob owe us?" Yang asked, giving me a mystified look.

I was honestly unable to tell if she was joking or not.

"… RobCo's. U. O. S." I punctuated "I told you about RobCo in passing before. It was the Company Mr. House- er- Robert House, owned before uploading himself into a computer. The one responsible for a vast number of the Old World's technological marvels. The majority of which were built with the Unified Operating System, or U-OS, RobCo's proprietary Operating System. If it was built before the war, and computer based, it probably used U-OS."

"Like your Pip-boy?" Ruby asked.

"Like my Pip-boy." I agreed "But there were other things too. Aside from computer terminals, there were all manner of things that used it. Automated turrets, rationing systems, surveillance units, municipal services, literally any place you could potentially automate something, you'd find U-OS. Or something RobCo built, really, they had something of a monopoly."

"A one-of-a-kind item being monopolized by a man wealthy enough to own a city. Why does that sound familiar?" Blake asked, sarcastically giving Snowflake a sidelong look.

Snowflake, however, did not take that jab lying down. "I'll have you know the Schnee Dust Company does not privately own the Kingdom of Atlas or its surrounding territories, thank you." She said pointedly "In fact, barring being elected to a seat on the Kingdom's council, there are laws in place to prevent my family's company from overpowering the Kingdom's authority. Just as I'm sure there were in Six's world."

"Actually, The pre-war government fully supported RobCo's monopoly." I answered "RobCo even had high-paying contracts with the military to produce innovations and weapons in exchange for their otherwise unfettered economic power. Something the Pre-war government was also in favor of, since the market was in free-fall right up until the bombs fell. Barring a handful of others, RobCo was basically the only true company to manufacture computers, with most others subsidized by them to produce further technologies. Not to mention pay massive Royalties for using their products."

Blake shot Snowflake a smug smile, the picture of pure satisfaction.

Snowflake's face, on the other hand, turned red as a Bighorner and looked absolutely mortified. "W-well, they should have had laws."

"Not gonna argue that." I agreed "Despite the less-than-ideal situation though, it led to the creation of all kinds of technological advancements. Machines and medicines capable of healing the human body from grievous harm. Sometimes augmenting or replacing pieces of it outright. Though some of their most well-known, outside of the field of computer technology, was their robotics division. A source of regular income for them, I had to imagine."

"What were they like?" Ruby asked, a sparkle in her eyes "Were they anything like the ones from Atlas?"

"How should I know?" I shrugged "I've never been to Atlas, unless your scroll lets you pull pictures of what you're talking about out of the ether, it's liable to stay that way."

"No, they can't do that-" Ruby admitted sadly, before perking up "-but I've got a magazine."

"Really?"

Without pause, Ruby got up from her seat and weaved her way across the room, to the book shelf set off to one side. She scanned it for a moment, fingers running over the spines of collected material, before finding what she wanted. Resting on top of a set of books, she withdrew a thin sheaf of papers, then weaved her way back over to me, holding them out for me to see. Showing it was, indeed, a magazine, much like the ones that littered the Mojave.

The cover page bore the name 'Sarge Boomstick's Munitions Monthly: Your guide to Remnant's hottest and newest weapons systems and designs.'. It was accompanied by splash text, giving short messages of the magazines contents. Such as: 'Sword or Axe: the debate that has hunters on the edge of their seat.' Or 'Top five rookie mistakes every designer will make.' And 'What caliber are you? Take our in-depth personality quiz and find out!'

Was this a magazine for weapons, or a teenager's gossip column?

Further muddling it, and eating most of the cover's real estate, was that month's topic. It was set over an image of an Atlesian airship, much like the ones presently hovering in Vale's airspace, accompanied by several smaller aircraft.

'Dawn of Atlas: an insider's guide to the world's most cutting-edge hardware'

That title probably needed to be taken with more than a few grains of salt.

I looked back up from the magazine to Ruby. She was wearing an ear-to-ear grin, like a toddler showing their parent to show them something they'd drawn.

"… Well, there are worse things someone your age could be reading." I admitted.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it." I said, cracking open the magazine and thumbing through the, strangely glossy, pages. "I'm just more surprised you've got something like this sitting on the book shelf."

"Well duh, where else am I supposed to keep it?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know, your desk, under your pillow, in your dresser, behind the bookshelf?"

"But that's where Blake keeps her books."

"…"

Collectively, everyone in the room sans Ruby turned and gave the cat-eared girl a sidelong look. In turn, Blake said nothing, her eyes growing shifty and refusing to meet anyone else's. Though given the small flush on her cheeks, that might have been more out of embarrassment than anything.

Now I really wanted to know what was in those books. But, again, not the time or place.

I thumbed through several pages worth of ads and side-topics before I reached the meat of the magazine. The pages were printed with images of what I could only assume were Atlas military hardware. All cropped and canted oddly, scored and scrawled over by text written in garish colors and a nigh illegible font. It was like trying to read something a Jackal had written while tripping on Party Time Mentats.

If I ever met the bastard in charge of editing that rag, I'd throttle him.

One of the first pictures was of a squad of Atlesian soldiers, clad in white armor with blue highlights at the neck, arms, and helmet. Much the same as I'd seen, just the night before. It reminded me vaguely of the reinforced Mk. 2 Combat Armor used before the war, and that I'd used to repair my own Riot Gear. The design was a bit different though, naturally, a bit sleeker in some place, streamlined. The Helmet was completely different as well, and was questionable at best, given its complete and obscuring coverage of the soldier's line of sight. The same applied to the weapon they, and their comrades, each held. Their standard issue service weapon, if I had to guess, and if the attached caption was anything to go by it was the Electra-255255. There was no real way for me to describe it either, because it didn't look like any weapon I was familiar with. The closest weapon I could compare it to was the laser rifle, but even then, the comparison wasn't accurate. The parts were all wrong, looking more like a single, white block of steel than the clear, distinct parts of a laser rifle. There were no focusing optics, nor a clear space to place a magazine or power cell. Hell, the shroud that hung at the end of the 'barrel' looked more in line with a standard gun barrel.

I should've known better than to expect everything to look like something I was familiar with, but physics are physics. Just staring at the picture left me with more questions than answers.

Plus, it was still off topic. I was going to have to bite back my own questions for a more appropriate time. Perhaps setting aside a time to talk shop with Ruby was a good idea after all.

I moved on from the pictures of the soldiers, and began scrutinizing the rest of the article. The magazine at least had the decency to cover more than just the general infantry. Even if it didn't go into much worthwhile detail. There was a section for their aeronautics division, another for their training methods, a snippet about some special operations group, and a paragraph or two about their engineering branch that seemed less than a little informational. State secrets, what a surprise.

Then we reached the section about robotics, and if I hadn't been wearing my mask, they'd probably have seen my eyes pop out of my head. Turns out, they might've had some things that surpassed Old World tech after all, or at the very least rivaled it.

"Ok, this is actually pretty impressive." I admitted "You might have some things in Atlas I could compare to my world."

"Liiiike?" Ruby asked, drawing the word out.

I flipped the magazine around, tapping at the image. "Like these guys right here."

The machine in question was fairly normal sized, as robots go. Perhaps no larger in stature than your standard protectron, if the pictures were accurate. But it's proportions and design were slimmer, more human, in a way. They were painted in similar scheme to the soldiers, but their armor was different, lighter and less protective if anything. A part of me wondered if there was someone with a sick sense of humor about these things in Atlas.

"That's the Atlesian Knight 130." Ruby said, putting on a knowledgeable air "They're Atlas's premier unmanned combat drone."

"Interesting, they look kinda… flimsy."

"Flimsy!?"

"Yeah, flimsy, weak, unsound, and a host of other synonyms." I continued, lowering the magazine "We've got robots back in the Mojave, but most of them are bulky, heavily armored machines. These things look like they're missing armor across several key points, not the least of which being their joints."

"T-they're designed to be as fast as any soldier!" Ruby argued, strangely defensive "The extra armor would slow them down!"

"No it wouldn't, look at me, I'm covered in the stuff ninety percent of the time and I still-"

"FOCUS." Snowflake interrupted.

"Fine, fine, whatever." I waved her off, trying to keep on topic "Anyway, their design aside, we've got robots back in the Mojave, but none look exactly like that as far as I know. The closest I'd have to compare it to, would be RobCo's Protectron series, getting back on topic."

"Ok… what are they like?" Ruby asked, trying to follow my example.

"Well, they're a bit like the- uh- 130 here in the magazine. They're also, obviously, completely different. As far as standard design goes, they share a few commonalities, namely that they're both bipedal robot intended to act as human substitutes. But they're shaped completely differently. I could see someone mistaking one of these 130's for a human under the right circumstances, assuming they weren't getting a reasonably good look at them, anyway. No one would mistake a protectron for human though. They're a bit… bulbous. They're upper portion is shaped like a gourd that tapers off to a sensor at the top, and its lower torso being a block of steel mounted over two spindly legs. It has arms as well, with weird, tri-tipped pincers for hands, but both the arms and legs lack articulation, being confined to an incredibly small degree of movement. They also don't move quickly either, their running speed is most people's casual walk."

"Wow, they sound useless." Nora chirped.

"*snrk*" I chuckled, unable to stop it from escaping.

Nora's eyes widened "… Did I just make you laugh?"

"No." I denied, quickly moving the topic along "Anyway, yes, protectrons aren't the most proficient combat machines, however, they were never really designed for that. Whereas the 130 drones were made for the seemingly sole purpose of combat, protectrons were made to be multifunctional. Though their movement is a bit limited, they're still fully capable of performing labor you'd expect most human workers. Moving containers, organizing workspaces, and similar basic functions. On top of that, they could be re-spec and outfitted to perform specific tasks. More often than not, they were used to replace factory workers and janitorial staff. But it wasn't uncommon to see them replace security and law enforcement details as well. It was estimated that one protectron could perform the work of ten men, while requiring less than a fraction of the pay in maintenance."

"So it wasn't made to be great at anything, so it was good at everything?" Pyrrha queried.

"More like built to be 'ok' at everything." I corrected "Like I said, they're slow, stumpy, and not particularly well armed and armored. They could fill any role, in a pinch, but unless it was a very simple role, they'd need a lot of work to properly fit it."

"I remember reading about the SDC trying something similar with their shipping plants." Blake said, looking at Snowflake snidely "Supposedly they were buying surplus units and trying to operate with them."

"How well did that go?" I asked.

Blake shrugged "They lost a couple of warehouses, apparently."

"…"

Collectively, all eyes in the room drifted over to Snowflake, who returned the gaze obliquely.

"… The manifests did confirm we'd lost a few of our Vacuo warehouses." She huffed.

"Damn." I answered "Gotta be careful with that, bad enough your family's got the White Fang gunning for them. Be worse if you had everyone else you've ever put out of a job on top of that."

"It's not my choice." She shot back "Besides, the tests were obviously failures anyway. My father would need drones that aren't just meant for fighting if he actually wanted it to work."

"Case in point, civil strife and unemployment were big problems before the war, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that machines like the protectron were a reason for that." I answered "But, it wasn't a smooth transition either. Found plenty of records where disgruntled employees would try to sneak back onto company grounds and sabotage the protectrons. It worked, sometimes, but there's still enough of them tromping about the wasteland to know it didn't most of the time."

"… Wait, if they're good for simple stuff, and still working after so long, why aren't they being used as workers?" Jaune asked.

"Because it's not always that simple, Jaune. Most protectrons need to be charged from a stationary charging port in order to function, and you can alter their instruction while they are. But most of them were already going about their work day when the bombs fell, and have long since lost their charging port, making changing their directives insanely difficult, if not nigh impossible. Before you ask, any functioning ones have only made it this far because of the nuclear based batteries they are powered by. More than anything at this point, they're a hazard you could run into when scavenging old ruins. Especially given that most of them are equipped with what is, while weaker in comparison to other robots, an effective weapons system."

"What were they?" Ruby asked, clearly trying to derail the topic

"Not important." I answered "We'll talk about their lasers another time-"

"LASERS!?"

"MOVING ON!" I shouted "There are a couple of other robots we can cover, who were much more combat oriented."

Ruby stared at me for a moment, pursing her lips. Likely deciding whether to continue pursuing her new fixation in lieu of the topic at hand, or letting it lie for now and continuing forward. It must have been quite the internal battle for her, because she stood there for several moments. Clearly agonizing over it. But, by some small miracle, she found the strength to relent and nodded that I could continue.

I looked back to the magazine, examining the pictures printed within. "Now, outside of the protectron series, Robco was responsible for the development of a host of other robots. Much like Atlas, most of these were commissioned for military purposes, both domestic and abroad."

"They were used on their own people?" Blake asked.

"The words 'civil' and 'strife' should be a good indicator of that." I answered "But, even when they weren't used to quell… 'problems', they were used for other purposes. Patrols, border enforcement, crowd control, if there was a dispute that needed a fast resolution, RobCo had one or two models that'd do the trick…" I stared at one of the pictures on the magazine for a moment, flipping through the pages until I reached the end of the article. "-Aaaaand it looks like that was the only one."

"Only one?" Ruby asked "What do you mean?"

"I mean that was the only robot that overlapped with what I know from my world." I answered "Even then it's tangential, since the only real commonality between them is that they're bipedal. If we wanted to actually compare what we have, there'd need to be more written here. Which is a pain in the ass, because I actually wouldn't mind telling you about them. But explaining them with some point of reference can be difficult, going blind is next to impossible."

"Well… There has to be something." Ruby offered.

"I'm sure there is, but it's not coming to me at the moment. Besides, these probably aren't even the most advanced models anyway. They'd keep a lid on the really advanced stuff until they had something that could surpass it. At least, that's what they did before the war" I said, absently thumbing through the pages as I spoke. Unable to immediately come up with anything though, my gaze began to settle back towards dinner, still cooling in the skillet. "… We should probably dig into this before it gets cold." I said, motioning to the cooling Frittamelet. "While you guys eat, I'll try to figure out something else I can tell you about."

"What's it this time?" Snowflake asked, eyeing the skillet warily "You're not feeding us more bugs, are you?"

"I didn't feed you bugs last time" I clarified, using my spatula to begin carving up the frittamelet, doling it out onto plates as I went. "-and this is a scaled-up version of a Wasteland Omelet. Meant to feed ten people instead of one. You guys can eat, and I'll spend a few minutes trying to figure out what else we can talk about."

I passed the plates out, until everyone had one, and there were only two servings left in the pan. Soon reduced to one, as I packed a slice away for later.

"What're you doing with that?" Ruby asked.

"Saving it for Vale, I'm up late and get hungry. First time in a while I'll have had something close to home cooking."

As I packed the piece away, I watch as my teammates and JNPR stared cautiously as the food before them. It wouldn't be the first time I'd introduced them to new food without explaining what they were eating.

"… What's in it?" Snowflake asked, giving me a wary look.

"Odds and ends I've managed to scrounge up." I answered "Enough to make something I could passably call a Wasteland Omelet."

"That's not an answer, it just makes me want to eat it less." She sniped.

"If you're going to be picky, you don't have to eat it." I shot back.

"I just want to know what's in it!"

"Nothing that will kill you." I answered "it's not like you've got Lakelurk meat and Blamco Mac and cheese hanging around. I did the best I could, that's all I've got to say about that."

"But you're still not saying what you put in it!" Snowflake continued "All I want to know is what you put in it before I start-"

"*NOM*"

"…"

Snowflake fell silent, turning to look at her leader. Who, whilst Snowflake had been questioning every facet of her food's origin, had proceeded to carve a piece off and eat it. She chewed it slowly, cautiously at first, probably not sure what to make of it.

We all watched her, with baited breath. The rest of them probably just to find out if I was feeding them anything repulsive. Myself, just to ensure the quality of my work. For that one, long, eternity of a moment, I'll admit, I was worried.

Then her eyes glittered, and she dove in at full speed. Practically inhaling her food. Everyone else stared at her

"… Seems she likes it." I prodded.

Snowflake fixed me with a deadened stare, clearly not willing to take anymore lip. Everyone else, meanwhile, began to, more reservedly, tuck in. But even as the sounds of cutlery and delight began to filter in around her, she continued her staredown.

"… Alright, fine." I caved "Here's a deal: you take one bite, one, and I'll tell you what's in it. After that, if you don't like it, I'll make you something else."

"That still requires me to eat it." She complained.

"One bite won't kill you, Weiss. If you won't do it for me, do it for cake butler."

"Leave him out of this!" Snowflake suddenly squawked, a small blush caressing her cheeks. It only grew deeper as our teammates began to snicker.

I didn't say anything, instead choosing to wait patiently and see whose resolve won out, hers or mine.

The victor was decided when she huffed, gripped her fork, and carved off a piece of her dinner. "There's something wrong with this, I just know it." She grumbled.

"Less back-sass, more chewing."

Snowflake scowled at me, then down to her meal. Stabbing viscerally at the severed piece of egg and filling. She elevated it to her mouth, pausing, glaring at the food like it was her greatest nemesis. As though it had so morally wronged her, she'd see it and its descendants rent asunder.

Then she breathed deeply, and bit it off the fork, chewing fast. Likely trying to macerate it before she could even taste it. An action that lasted all of three seconds. Mid-chew, her eyes widened and I saw her jaw relax, moving in slower, calm motions. Her pointed scowl melting into a look of curiosity, confusion. She continued to chew, more slowly, before swallowing.

"So, verdict?" I asked.

"… Shut up." She grumbled, using the edge of her fork to carve off another bite "Well, what's in it?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself cut off.

"Onions, peppers, potatoes…" Ren said, looking thoughtfully at his portion, having already sampled it "… Cheese, steak, eggs… and something else."

I nodded, whistling "Well someone has a good palate. You were right on the money about pretty much all of it."

"You also cooked it right in front of us." Ren said, bland.

"True, but I wasn't working from the purest ingredients for the most part." I answered "Back in the wasteland, you need a grand total of four ingredients to make a Wasteland Omelet. That's a bare-bones, no bells and whistles Omelet, anyway: A Box of Blamco Mac and Cheese, A fresh Mutfruit of the Crunchy Variety, A Deathclaw egg, and a half pound of Lakelurk meat."

"What's a Lakelurk?" Nora asked, chewing.

"Another wasteland beasty, vicious bastards at that." I answered "They're snapping turtles that, much like everything else, mutated into an unrecognizable shape and form."

"But we're not eating it… right?" Snowflake asked.

"No, again, I used up most of my supplies earlier on. The steak I had was just a close enough flavor stand-in, the textures all wrong though." I answered "Along with that, I had to find a different source for cheese and starch. Luckily the cafeteria doesn't seem to mind me squirreling away some odds and ends, as long as they're not paying attention."

"Why not just go grocery shopping?" Yang asked.

"I'm cheap, and this place wastes enough food as it is. Anyway, I used the cheese and potatoes to substitute for the Mac and cheese. Gotta admit, that one was probably the only change I will freely admit was probably for the better. The onion and jalapeno too, should add some depth to it."

"So that leaves the eggs and… Mutfruit?" Pyrrha asked.

"That's right, and what you're tasting is probably the under-ripe mutfruit." I clarified, motioning to Ren "Given a little longer to ripen, the flavors would probably mesh well."

"That would probably help the texture too." Ren said, rocking his jaw a little "I keep biting into something… off."

"Right?" Ruby asked, shoveling another piece into her mouth "I -han feew hit hohhing hetween eye heefh."

"Ah, those are probably Deathclaw bones." I admitted "Sometimes the eggs have started the gestation process when I find them. Normally it's not a problem, the bones are still soft enough to eat."

Everyone immediately stopped eating. Their eyes turned to me again, Forks hovering in midair and mouths open and slack.

"Deathclaw… bones?" Jaune asked.

"… Oh, right." I said, realizing "I had some Deathclaw eggs left, figured I should use them, keep the recipe authentic."

"I- I thought you said-"

"That I was nearly out of ingredients, yes. There's no use for Deathclaw eggs outside of Wasteland Omelets, after all."

"… I KNEW IT!" Snowflake shouted, jabbing her fork at me "I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO DO SOMETHING!"

"Yes, and I still got you to eat what is, frankly, a delicacy where I'm from. I'm sure you're just utterly appalled, having clearly enjoyed it."

Snowflake opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Just a strangled noise as she tried to come up with a retort. The rest of the room just remained silent, staring down at their plates, contemplating what it was they'd just done. Snowflake tried again to say something, then a third time. After which she gave up and joined the rest in reflection, as though they'd all committed some grave sin.

Ruby had it worst. Mouth still crammed with food, she hesitated a moment, then swallowed, licking her lips. Her face was awash in emotion, gliding quickly and expertly between what I could only gauge as wonder and horror. Before landing somewhere in a comfortable middle of the two. "… It tastes like chicken…"

Silence settled on them as the weight of what they'd just eaten pressed down on them. Drama queens.

It was broken by Nora, who dove into her food with renewed ferocity.

Her teammates, and mine, looked to her. Horror, still clinging to their faces for reasons that were lost on me. Nora as well for that matter, who looked up from her food mid-chew, wild-eyed and loving every bite.

"… What?" She asked "I'm hungry, and it tastes amazing~"

Without another word, she returned her attention to her food, savoring each bite. They all looked back down to their own plates. Contemplating their next actions as if it were some grand declaration. A decision that would forever alter the course of their lives. Instead of, y'know, dinner. Serious business indeed.

Ruby made her decision with hardly a second thought, diving back into her food. Racing Nora to see who could clean their plate first. Not to be upstaged, Yang followed suit, then Pyrrha, Ren, Blake, Jaune, and finally Snowflake. Who picked delicately at the egg, either trying to savor it or put off eating it.

"Congratulations." I said, smirking "You've all made a very big and important step in your life. I only wish I knew which one."

Snowflake shot me a scowl as she picked at her food, but said nothing.

I rolled my eyes and snapped open the magazine, perusing as we ruminated. The air filled with the sounds of cutlery on stoneware, and the gentle murmur of delight that comes with a good meal. I couldn't taste it yet, but I knew it was good. Wasteland Omelets were always good, and I had little doubt these were exceptionally so. But I couldn't eat yet, I had work to do.

My eyes scanned over the glossed pages of the magazine, flitting over the glyph-like text printed upon it. My mind briefly marveled at how accustomed I'd grown to reading it. Then it went back to the bundle of papers in my hand. There wasn't much of value I could really glean from it, the articles seeming to be more of a boast on the behalf of the Atlesian military than anything. A chance to show off their baseline equipment, maybe drum up enlistment numbers. Propaganda, in short.

But there was something, as I looked over the article, that bugged me. Something that I'd noticed in the past, but never really thought much about beyond vague comparisons. Staring at the article for the aeronautics division, however, got me to think about it.

"So, question, how exactly does Atlas have massive airships?" I asked.

"'hey 'uil' 'hem" Yang cadenced.

"Wow, sarcasm, real funny sunshine." I intoned back "I'm serious though, how exactly did they manage that?"

"What do you mean?" Snowflake asked, uttering her favored phrase once more.

"Back in the Mojave, as far as I know, no one has anything close to that. Most aircraft that exist are closer in function to Bullheads and… whatever those smaller vessels Atlas uses are called."

"-Mantas and Stingray dropships" Ruby provided, swallowing her food.

"Neat, thank you."

Snowflake paused for a moment, clearly mulling the question over, and growing more visibly frustrated as she did. "… Though I hate to admit it, I don't have an answer."

I shrugged "Kinda figured that'd be the case, I'd imagine Atlas would keep the functioning specs of its larger warships under wraps."

"Which is really funny, since the SDC helps manufacture most of Atlas' weaponry." Blake added snidely

"Really?" I asked, admittedly a little surprised, though I truly shouldn't have been. The pre-war government subcontracted to RobCo and General Atomics for plenty of things. Atlas doing so with the SDC was only a natural course of action, really. With how insular the region of Mantle was, it wouldn't make sense for them to contract some other kingdom's work force. "So you're saying you don't know how it works, because you were never allowed to see how they were built."

"No, I have some idea of how they were built." Snowflake snipped "They use gravity dust reactors to keep themselves in the air. I just… don't know how they work."

"Ohhh, so you're saying its magic." I surmised.

"It's not, it's just technology I can't explain." Snowflake huffed.

"Ergo: magic."

"W-well how would you explain it?" Weiss asked, getting uppity "It's not as though you can explain how they worked in your world."

"I can, actually." I said "Most aircraft in my world, much like the- uh- Mantas and bullheads here, abuse a loophole in the laws of aerodynamics through the use of high velocity to create a pressure vacuum over the vehicle proper, achieving lift."

"… That sounds even more like magic!" Snowflake shouted.

"Yeah, but I can at least explain it and I've only ever seen, like, three functioning aircraft in my life. That's a lot more than most people in the Mojave will see ever."

"Whoa~" Ruby said, slowing down to begin savoring her last few bites "What were they, I want details!"

"What kind of details?" I asked sarcastically "I can't exactly rattle off serial numbers-"

"Tell us about them!"

"Fine, sheesh, relax." I said "They were a pre-war bomber, dredged from the bottom of a lake, and some Vertibirds."

"Verti-birds?" Blake said, breaking the word into its constituent parts.

"Hey, I'm not the one that named them." I answered "They started development before the war as VTOL craft for the American military."

"V-TOLL?" Jaune asked, confused.

"Vertical Take Off and Landing." Ruby supplied, smiling.

"Right on the money." I confirmed "If you need an example, the Bullheads the academy uses occasionally are also an example."

"Oh, ok, cool." Jaune nodded.

"Anyway, the military commissioned them to help replace other aircraft in use at the time. The designs were adopted, and prototypes were pressed into service less than a decade before the bombs fell. Meaning that, up until the war, the ones in use were largely untested." I explained "After the bombs fell though, they entered actual production with a finalized design. Courtesy of the Enclave, who made extensive use of the pre-existing models."

"They were the remnants of the… American government, correct?" Pyrrha asked.

"That's correct." I nodded "They used the Vertibirds during their campaign against the Wasteland. To great effect at that, since they were largely the only ones capable of air combat. They could roll in like thunder, raze whatever had caught their attention, and be gone just as quickly. After they fell apart though, their remnants and constituents scattered across the wasteland, taking most of the Vertibirds with them. Though it wasn't uncommon for some factions to have them. The NCR has one special reserved for their leadership, got to watch President Kimball fly in on it once."

"Really, when was that?" Snowflake asked.

"He came to the Mojave back before the Second battle of Hoover Dam kicked off." I answered "A PR stunt to help drum up support. It nearly got him killed too, since he held the speech less than a mile away from one the Legion's main fortifications."

"Wow, what an idiot." Nora said.

Which unfortunately, managed to squeeze another chuckle out of me.

Nora beamed proudly at that.

"But what were you doing there?" Snowflake asked, clearly picking up a key point

"I was in the area, and it was an open invitation." I lied, choosing not to think about the other reason I'd been there that day "Wanted to see if he was as much of an ass as people made him to be."

"… Was he?" Yang asked.

"Holy crap, I've walked through sewers with less shit in them than that guy." I admitted.

"Gross."

"That stunt nearly cost him too. Before he left, there were no less than three people trying to kill him." I shook my head "But, that's off topic. He came to the Dam in a Vertibird, basically using it as a status symbol. But, speaking from informal experience, they're effective combat craft too. They're armed to the teeth, plated in the most advanced pre-war armor, and capable of landing, deploying a squad, and returning to the air in under ten seconds. "

"Wow~" Ruby cooed "What do they look like?"

"Depending on who you ask, they kind of look like dragonflies." I said, thinking of the ones I'd seen at the rivers of Zion "Fat, stumpy, propeller driven fireflies."

"When you put it like that, they don't sound as cool." Yang smirked.

"Sorry that it bugs you." I said "But, that's what they are. They weren't the only aircraft used before the war, but they were some of the only ones to make it through the confrontation. I've got no clue if there were any others, save for the aforementioned bomber."

"Which I'm going to guess was used to drop bombs." Snowflake said snidely.

"Shocking, I know." I said dryly "However, it wasn't used to drop any of the nukes that scorched everything, so at least it has that going for it. At least, not during that war anyway."

"You said they dredged it from the bottom of a lake?" Pyrrha asked.

"Mm, which they did. They, in this case, being a local tribe called the Boomers. They'd found records of a plane that went down during a training exercise nearly three hundred years prior."

"Three hundred years?" Snowflake asked.

"Yes, I didn't stutter. The plane, A B29 Superfortress, though that probably means nothing to you, saw use during the conflict that led to the Cold War between America and Russia I mentioned long ago and far away. It's use largely being reserved as fire support and strategic bombing."

"… How did it survive for three hundred years?" Snowflake asked, clearly stuck.

"… Do I seriously need to give you a chemistry lesson right now? You're the one that normally wants me to stay focused."

Snowflake gave me a pointed look.

"… Fuck it, short version: Steel oxidizes, ie rusts, when exposed to both oxygen, and other corrosive factors. Being deep underwater, fresh water at that, slowed down its rate of decay. It wasn't flight ready by any means when they pulled it up from the lake bed, but it was admittedly in remarkably good shape."

"How do you know that?"

"I was around when they pulled it ashore and brought it back to their territory." I lied.

"That's oddly convenient." Ren said, shooting me a look.

"Remember how I'm a man of many talents?" I asked "You don't get those talents by not moving around… Still, it's pretty impressive they managed to get it back into the condition they did. I got to see it in flight, and man, what a sight."

"What was it like?" Ruby asked, clearly hunger for details, or perhaps more Frittamelet.

"Terrifying" I admitted "The B29 is nearly a hundred feet of steel, with a wingspan one and a half times that to match. It's got four propellers for thrust, each turbo-supercharged, and capable of achieving a cruise speed of over two hundred miles an hour. With a max of over three-fifty, possibly faster on a good day. They could reach a cruising altitude of nearly thirty-two thousand feet, making it hard for other aircraft of the time to take them down. Though that also meant they didn't have much in the way of armor, but they made up for it in offensive power. Four radial turrets, plus a tail gun, mounted with two belt fifty caliber machine guns each. The tail gun was even equipped with a 20mm auto-cannon, on some designs. And, to serve its main function, it could be equipped to drop up to twenty thousand pounds of explosive ordinance."

"Twenty THOUSAND~" Ruby said, speaking as if she were in a trance.

"Assuming you can find that much ordinance in the Wasteland, anyway. Still, an impressive feat all around. Especially considering they managed to retrofit its combustion engine to nuclear instead."

Yang looked at me funny, quirking an eyebrow "I thought there wasn't any Dust in your world."

I quirked my head right back. "There isn't."

"Then how do you have combustion engines?"

"How do we have them- how do you?"

"Because we have dust, but you don't. So how does that make any sense?"

I paused for a moment, trying to puzzle out what she was saying. Mercifully, it clicked not long after. "… Oh, I see, miscommunication."

Yang's brow inched just a smidge higher.

"You guys use dust over here to power vehicles, just like we had nuclear power. But, long ago and far away, we had an abundance of different fuels to power everything off of. Though we tended to generalize them under the term 'fossil fuels'. Because most of them were fossilized and massively decayed remains from millennia old plants and animals."

"You can use things like that as fuel?" Yang asked.

"You guys know what coal, Natural gas, and petroleum are, right?" I asked in response.

Yang blinked uncertainly, giving a look to Snowflake. Snowflake, for her part, tried not to look like a giant ant at Helios One.

"… Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised rather than annoyed "Nothing?"

"I remember hearing stories about old Blacksmiths using coal and charcoal in place of dust." Blake cut in "But I've never heard of… petroleum?"

"… I'm going to tuck that little nugget away for later." I said, writing a mental note "Things this big, your world could be ripe with materials you've never thought about using, and you have no idea how useful that could be."

"That's not ominous at all." Ren drolled.

"I mean it in only the best way." I said, honest "Take it from a guy who's living in the aftermath: Becoming overly dependent on one means of energy production can have disastrous consequences. It pays to have options. But, more to the point, once upon a time, the majority of vehicles ran off of combustion engines. Typically powered using a form of petroleum, or oil in layman's terms, which burned at a higher speed to create small explosions and turn the crankshaft."

Yang nodded, smirking "Sounds like an engine to me."

"Hm, guess there might be some overlap in design for that at least." I nodded "But, like I said, most engines were nuclear by the time the bombs fell. Lot of specifics to get into, and too many mole-rat holes to stumble down. The most basic answer though, is that they're used to generate electricity instead. Either that or run directly off of steam pressure. But that basic principle was used to power most vehicles towards the end. Cars, buses, trucks, tanks, trains-"

"What about motorcycles?" Yang asked, showing a sudden interest.

"Oh yeah, motorcycles too." I agreed "They're some of the few still functioning vehicles you'll see in the wasteland too, in fact. Really effective too, most do well off road, which helps since roads are a bit… crumbly."

"Awesome." She smiled.

"Mn, fast too." I agreed "Hard to find parts for them, but they can be indispensable if you've got one."

"You fixed one?" Yang asked, surprised.

"Fixed it, owned it, rode it, wrecked it." I admitted, thinking back to a simpler time "Back during my bounty hunting days, I needed to be able to get around the Mojave quickly. Tried walking for a while, at first, but it took too long, started affecting my income. Managed to find a couple of bikes that had enough good parts between them to cobble something together."

"You were actually a bounty hunter?" Blake asked.

"Naturally, man's gotta eat somehow..." As I said it though, the simpler times began to move to things less simple. More complicated, devious. Another dark, complicated portion of my life I did well to avoid thinking about. Shouldn't have been, but it was. "… Anyway, needed to move around a lot, and quickly. Spending a few days here and there to get the bike running meant a better payout in the long run."

"How long did it take?" Yang asked.

"Too damn long." I groused "I had Raul helping me, and it took forever, and he's even more of a gear head than I am. The hardest part was trying to find the right sized wrenches to disassemble everything is in the first place. Do you know how hard it is to find an intact socket wrench in a wasteland, much less a 5/32 socket that's actually gauged for it?"

Yang paused for a moment, thinking "… No, but I've had trouble finding the right size sockets before."

"Eternal struggle of maintenance." I commiserated "… You do your own work right?"

Yang gave me an offended look "Who do you think I am, Weiss?"

"Hey!"

"You just don't look the part." I said "Not saying you shouldn't, and it's better that you know how to do it anyway."

"Dang right." Yang smirked.

"But, yeah, it wasn't easy getting it running, but absolutely worth the pain. Especially after I had to learn how to drive one."

Yang's smirk grew bigger "I'm just surprised you can actually drive one, considering how you rode with me to see Junior."

I bit back and beat down the bad memories of what happened at Junior's club before they had a chance to really build steam. "Yeah, well, someone had to drive us back."

"So what happened to it?" Jaune asked "You- uh- said you crashed."

"Not crashed, wrecked, there's a difference." I clarified "Crashing implies I slammed it into something. Wrecking means I had less control over what happened"

"So what did happen?" Yang asked.

"I rode into an ambush set by a group of Raiders who's leader I'd dragged into custody."

"…"

"… not my fault." I protested "Wound up getting thrown from the bike, fractured a few things, broke my leg."

"You ok?"

"Mm, stimpacks patched me up, and the raiders weren't much trouble. Totaled my bike though, meant to fix it, but some things happened after that, and the time got away from me. Miss it sometimes, there was a lot of freedom that came with it."

"Want to talk about it some time?" Yang asked, still very interested in the subject.

"Sure, one more facet of the Mojave for me to help you digest. But at least some of you would have an actual interest in it."

"We're paying attention." Snowflake said, looking offended at my insinuation.

"Well, it can be hard to believe when one of you is off in La-la-land fantasizing about high explosive ordinance."

"-Huh?" Ruby asked, finally slipping out of her stupor.

"That aside, it would certainly be one more thing to talk about. Plenty of other ground we could cover. Honestly, there's a lot we haven't even scratched the surface with here tonight."

"Lasers~" I heard Ruby coo.

"Also, what are Stimpacks?" Snowflake asked, showing she was paying attention.

"A perfect example…" Before answering, I checked the clock on my pip-boy, I needed to get moving soon "-of exactly that. Too much to cover tonight, I'll try to tell you about it another time."

"Aww, it was just getting good too." Ruby said, pouting.

"It always is." I nodded "But, this is just how it goes. I don't do this; we're not going to get anywhere."

"What exactly are you doing again?" Jaune asked "I think we're out of the loop."

"That's the idea." I answered "The fewer people who know about what exactly we're doing, the better."

"You make it sound like you're committing crimes." Jaune said, a smidge worried.

"He's sneaking off campus, past curfew, ready for a fight, and looking for trouble…" Ren said, giving Jaune a lopsided look "-He probably is."

"Not far off, legal system always makes things a bit screwy." I said, setting Ruby's magazine on my cot, and stood, double checking my armor. Standard procedure, but it was that way for a reason.

As I checked over everything one last time, I noticed my skillet still had a piece of Frittamelet sitting in it. I'd already collected my portion for later, so that meant there was enough left for someone to have seconds. A rare occurrence.

"Got a piece left, anyone hungry, or should I take it to go?"

"Me!" Ruby and Nora squawked simultaneously.

They both then promptly looked at each other. A single, tense moment passing between them. Then they began to stare daggers at one another. It would appear neither was willing to compromise on the issue. For everyone else however, that would mean getting dinner and a show tonight.

"Decide amongst yourselves, I'm going to use the John and get going." I said, turning for the door with a wave "

"Careful which stall you use." Jaune said absently "Someone thought it would be funny to pour fake blood into one of them."

"… Good to know, thanks for the heads up."