“Dialogue”
{Scroll}
{{A.I. Dialogue}}
[Ruby Rose]
Today I finally gathered the courage and marched to the Beacon Academy forge.
Standing in front of the furnace, using tongs in my left hand, I hold the pale green metal ingot into the fire.
[Image]
image [https://lh7-us.googleusercontent.com/xsO3jqZjrqBdIapuRmO7AtNVH40xzlexwyMrX-n6h194pgWXXkME7A6P1NoWBFwcOtcvoyxeM5LGTQKvMlWbxjuv2_eQjPnp1AuAqrjC7UcrR0qKzbY3SjEGeWgnkxvEM1Ah8vV84f_7IuCAgb7LsQE]
I feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension filling my chest. The metal is unique and extremely valuable due to its potential to easily overcome the resistance of Grimm monsters. The weight of the responsibility to forge it into a worthy blade is overwhelming and suffocating.
“I need to focus.” I grumble to myself. “I won't disappoint you.”
“Disappoint who?”
“KYAAAAAAAAAH!” I shriek, jumping on one foot.
Despite the scare, I didn't let go of the tongs, firmly holding the ingot of noqual.
“Blake! Don't startle me like that.”
“I knocked on the door before entering and greeted you; at some point, the fault becomes yours,” replies the amber-eyed Ninja.
I turned back to the furnace, grumbling about nosy teammates. As soon as I returned the ingot to the fire, Blake looked over my shoulder curiously like a cat.
“What brings you to the forge? Came to maintain your weapon?”
“Actually, I just came to talk.”
I froze and turned to face my teammate in surprise.
“What?” Blake asks indignantly. “Can't I have a friendly conversation with my team leader?”
…
“Are you out of books to read?”
“…maybe?” Blake responds embarrassed.
Smiling now that the world makes sense again, I refocused on the furnace.
“I don't think I've ever seen that shade of green in metal before.”
“Humpf.” I huff proudly, puffing out my chest. “That's because it's extremely rare, perhaps unique in the whole world.”
“Hmm. Where did you get it?”
“That's classified information. And no matter how much you ask, I'll keep that secret to the end of time.”
…
“Did Jaune give it to you?”
“Blaaaaaaaakeeee...” I whine, disappointed that she figured it out so quickly.
“What?” Blake shrugs. “I just guessed. Your crying confirmed my guess.”
“Damn!”
Shaking her head and laughing at my reaction, Blake stepps away from the forge and sat at a nearby table, giving me space to work.
“So, is it correct for me to assume it's Jaune you don't want to disappoint?”
“Hmmmm.” My irritated groan was enough for her.
As soon as I noticed the metal's hue changing due to the heat, I removed it from the furnace with trembling hands and placed it on the anvil. With my right hand, I reached for the next tool and began hammering.
CLINK! CLANG!
“What are you doing there?” the bored brunette asks.
“I'm hammering this ingot after heating it to shape it the way that I want.”
CLINK! CLANG!
“That's obvious.” Blake complained. “I want to know what you're making.”
“A new blade for Crescent Rose.”
CLINK! CLANG!
“That sounds exhausting. Why don't you use one of those hammering machines?”
“Although a mechanical forge hammer is faster and less tiring, I prefer using a regular hammer. Call me crazy, but I prefer to feel the metal shaping with my own hands. That way, I feel like I have fine control during the process.”
CLINK! CLANG!
“Sometimes I forget that besides being a nerd, you're a very skilled blacksmith.”
“Thank you.” I reply, smiling.
CLINK! CLANG!
“Wait a second…” I stop hammering, realizing the comment. “I'm not a nerd!” I complain, turning to Blake.
In response, Belladonna stares at me with a raised eyebrow.
“If anyone here is a nerd, it's you.” I accuse, pointing the hammer at her.
With a face flushed with embarrassment, Blake stood up protesting.
“I'm an appreciator of literary fine arts. But you, you nerd, play video games, read comics, and fantasy books.”
“Art?” I asked ironically. “What you read is filthy, FILTHY!”
An uncomfortable silence hung between us, but I decided to turn back and focus on my project.
CLINK! CLANG!
“If what I read is so heinous, why did you borrow 'Dawn Ninja: Twilight Knight'?”
“Yip!” I exclaim, freezing instantly.
“A romance between a young kunoichi and a blond knight with blue eyes.”
I freeze, paralyzed with embarrassment.
“And there was another day when I found a photo of Jaune with a drawn beard on his face. Trying to make him look like the Rusted Knight by any chance?”
“Hmmmmm.” I started whimpering with my childhood husbando revealed.
It's not my fault, the story of the 'Girl who Fell Through the World' is one of my childhood favorites, and the Rusted Knight is so amazing in it. It's not my fault Jaune reminds me of him.
Amidst my internal confusion, a hand landed on my shoulder.
“It's okay.” Blake said, smiling at me. “Everyone has a crush when they reach adolescence. And if he looks like your childhood Husbando, it makes everything more perfect.”
“I know…” I whispered, calming down.
Once I managed to compose myself, I went back to hammering, and Blake returned to her seat.
CLINK! CLANG!
“But it makes you wonder, you know.” Blake asked. “You, Yang, Weiss, Pyrrha, and Velvet have a crush on the blond knight.”
“Velvet?”
CLINK! CLANG!
“The faunus rabbit from the second year.”
“Aaaah!” I exclaim, remembering her face. “And you?”
CLINK! CLANG!
“What about me?”
“On the day we interrogated Ren, you were in the room with us. Aren't you in love with him too?”
CLINK! CLANG!
“In love is too strong of a word. I'm just interested in his literary potential.”
“Literary potential?” I repeat, not understanding between the hammer blows.
CLINK! CLANG!
“Yes.” Blake confirmed, nodding. “And his sexy body.”
THUD!
The dry sound of the hammer falling to the ground cut the conversation instantly.
“Blake!” I shout, blushing.
“You need better hold on to that hammer.” She says, smiling wickedly.
I think it's better to focus on my blade than to keep talking to this Fujoshi.
CLINK! CLANG!
“Huh!” I exclaimed in surprise.
“What's wrong?” Blake asked, curious.
I lifted the tongs, holding the ingot now in the rough shape of a scythe blade against a light to examine it better.
“I think the metal is changing color.”
[Hei Xiong]
The closing of the bar is always a special moment for me. A moment of calm, silence, and reflection after a tiring day, even if it's a slow day like this.
At least that's what I hoped for.
“Whyyyyyyyyyy?” Cries out a female voice loudly.
“I've already told you, girl.” Says another female voice, calmer. “He must have forgotten about you.”
“That doesn't make me feel any better.”
As I tidy up the last bottles and clean the glasses, all I can think about is relaxing and going home, but I'm being held back by my two last 'customers'.
One of them is a mysterious brunette woman, wearing a beret and sunglasses, even though it's night. She's dressed in designer clothes and carries herself like a socialite top model who occasionally takes a sip of her low-alcohol, low-calorie drink. She spent the whole night taking care of the other customer.
The other is a faunus, with bunny ears that sway with every movement. She's visibly drunk and crying, after a whole night of drinking carrot margaritas. The poor thing seems to be going through some kind of emotional crisis, and I'm glad to have made a profit serving her expensive drinks.
From a distance, the faunus raises her swollen, red eyes to me, overflowing with sadness.
“One more, please.” Says the teary-eyed one, lifting her empty glass.
I look at the woman with the beret and sunglasses, searching for some confirmation or intervention, but she just shrugs.
Sighing tiredly, I prepare another carrot margarita and approach them, sitting at the counter serving the glass.
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“Here you go.” I say in a dry and serious tone. “And this is the last one of the night.”
She takes the glass and smiles weakly at me, her face still wet with tears.
“Thank you.” She murmurs before taking a long sip of the drink. “I swear, I'm not normally like this.”
“It's none of my business, miss, just pay your bill, and it's all good for me,” I repliy formally. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to start closing up the bar.”
The soft sound of music still echoed in the bar, but the tables were empty, and the smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of cleaning products. Stepping out from behind the counter, I walked slowly to the entrance to flip the sign. That's when the door opened, revealing a red-haired man, wearing an extravagant hat and carrying a cane.
“Junior, my friend! How's it going?” he exclaims, entering with exaggerated confidence and much swagger.
I raise an eyebrow, feeling a twinge of irritation.
“Roman, don't call me Junior. It's Hei Xiong to you.”
He chuckles, shrugging.
“Always so serious. You don't need to do that; we're still old pals, aren't we?”
I ignored the comment and continued my work flipping the sign.
“What do you want, Roman?”
With an ironic smile, he pointed to a table with two chairs. Wanting to get this over with, I nod in agreement. Once we sat down, he put his filthy feet up on my table that I had just cleaned.
“I was just taking a look at my old favorite meeting spot. How are you managing in this boring place without me?”
I rolled my eyes, keeping calm.
“I'm doing just fine, thank you. But I think you should go; the bar is closed.”
Roman shrugged, as if the rules didn't apply to him.
“Ah, Junior, always so stern. You know, I was thinking we could do business again, like old times.”
The last time, he hires my men, and they all ended up injured or arrested. I shake my head, refusing outright.
“I'm trying to lay low for now, Roman.”
He laughs, ignoring my refusal.
“Ooh. Has the great Junior done anything extravagant in the past few weeks? Don't leave your friend out of the loop, now.”
My fists clenched instinctively.
Until recently, I was happy that Torchwick was drawing attention from the police, media, and politicians all to himself. But after he involved my men in a robbery stopped by a huntress-in-training and the visit from that blonde psychopath threatening me in my own establishment… let's just say, unlike this clown, I'm trying to maintain a low profile.
“It's none of your business, Torchwick.”
Roman shrugs once again, seeming to enjoy my refusal.
“Well, let's get down to business then,” says Roman, reaching for a small metal box from inside his white coat. “The opportunity is knocking at your door to get rid of all that Dust too hot for the market.” Roman concludes, taking out a cigar from the box and lighting it in his mouth.
Even with my years of experience dealing with all sorts of criminals in this city, my face twitched, breaking my poker face as I remembered the day I sold all the Dust that Roman is looking for.
“You're too late; I've already sold my entire stock.”
“Interesting,” says Roman, taking a puff. “I'm not used to being kept in the dark when so much Dust is being moved around the city. Who the hell bought all that at once?”
I keep my gaze fixed on the table, choosing my words carefully.
“Roman, you've worked with… dangerous people. This person who bought the Dust, she's on another level. Maybe even more intimidating than your employer, if that's possible.”
A spark of intrigue lit up Roman's eyes, but I didn't let my guard down. He didn't need to know that I was already familiar with this mysterious employer.
“Someone more dangerous than the fiery bitch… even more interesting.”
Roman crossed his arms, his expression indicating a mix of frustration and fascination.
“Could you arrange a meeting with this mysterious figure?”
My eyes widened in horror.
I sighed, deciding to choose my words even more carefully.
“The last thing I want is to encounter that figure again, why would I risk arranging a meeting for you?”
Roman seemed to absorb my words, but he didn't seem satisfied. With a mischievous smile, he took a long drag of his cigar and exhaled the smoke through his nose without taking his eyes off me.
“How about a drink to change your mind?”
I raise an eyebrow at the thief's insane proposal.
“Have you ever heard of Silver Deer?”
“Everyone in my line of work knows, it's a brand of expensive Atlas Whiskey, I heard they let it age in maple barrels for at least 50 years before bottling and selling.”
“50 years?” Roman asked, surprised. “Wow, no wonder it's so expensive.” The gallant thief laughed.
I furrow my brow at his ironic laughter.
“Despite being an excellent whiskey, I won't risk it for a shot of it.”
“A shot?” Roman asks, pretending to be offended. “Come on, Junior, I'm talking about a closed pallet.”
“Do you have a thousand sealed bottles of Silver Deer?”
“To be precise, I have 1050 sealed bottles; it was 1056, but no one is made of iron,” Roman explains, laughing at the end.
With that amount of Silver Deer, I could guarantee a 50% increase in profits at my bar for 2 years, not to mention the savings of not having to buy more expensive drinks during that time. I didn't want to talk to that kid again, but I have no choice. I have to pay off the loans I took out to repair the bar after the visit from the blonde.
“As soon as you deliver the pallet to me, I'll contact him.” I comment, knowing that the conversation wouldn't end there.
“Marvelous.”
“I suggest you don't try to cheat. He's smarter and more dangerous than he seems.”
HUURL!
“My shoe, Velvet.”
“I think that faunus just vomited on your counter,” Roman commented disgustedly, pointing in the direction of the two girls.
Sighing in annoyance that my work had increased, I stand up.
“If you'll excuse me, I need to grab a mop.”
With that, Roman Torchwick walks away, pinching his nose with his fingers.
[Ozpin]
Sitting in my office, reviewing the receipts for the Dust expenditure I provided to young Arc, I feel a wave of frustration wash over me. Normally, this type of work wouldn't be complicated, and to be honest, I would leave it to the treasury. However, multiple justifications need to be invented to avoid raising suspicions about the exorbitant Dust expenditure of the last month to the Vale council.
I observe the meticulously recorded numbers on the receipts, but my mind is occupied with the need to keep our secret safe. After all, Jaune's Dust expenses are just a small part of a much larger scheme, a scheme necessary to protect our world from the darkness that threatens to consume it.
DING!
The sound of the elevator arriving at my office distracts me from the papers.
“Who could it be at this hour?”
I raise my eyes to the elevator and see Qrow Branwen stepping out of it, an imposing figure wearing his red cloak.
“Good to see you again, Qrow.”
“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” grumbles the veteran Huntsman, who seemed both intoxicated and hungover at the same time. “What's so important that you're interrupting me… again?”
Qrow, usually loyal and diligent in his duties as a Huntsman, seems darker than usual. His eyes are bloodshot, and a scowl adorns his face. He wastes no time in expressing his frustration.
“Am I finally worthy of knowing who your source is?” he growls. “Everything you've given me has turned out to be true, are you going to retire me now that I'm useless for gathering intel?”
The irritation in his voice was evident and justifiable, after we failed to protect Amber, I sent Qrow on a reconnaissance mission to find her assailants, only to later pass on to him their identities and location and ask him to bug Professor Leonardo Lionheart's office because he was a possible traitor.
I take a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable confrontation. Although Qrow is one of my most loyal allies, his cantankerous nature and propensity for confrontation always require a delicate approach.
“Qrow, please, have a seat,” I say, indicating the chair in front of my desk. “Perhaps some good news will improve your mood.”
He hesitates for a moment, clearly reluctant to let his guard down, but finally relents and sits down. I watch him with a mixture of concern and apprehension, aware that the conversation that follows may further shake his already fragile disposition.
After a long conversation and a few swigs from his flask, Qrow... still wasn't convinced.
“Okay! The kid knew all your secrets, but have you considered that he might be a spy for Salem?”
“Then why would he heal Amber?”
“To gain our trust.”
“To gain our trust to do what, Qrow?”
“To steal the Beacon relic,” he replies, crossing his arms as if he had won the argument.
“Alright, and to achieve that goal, what does he need to do first?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“To kill-.” Qrow stops mid-sentence, realizing his mistake.
In response, I just smile at him.
“Go easy on me, I'm drunk.”
“You're always drunk.”
Qrow responds with a laugh and a shrug.
“His future intel has been solid.”
“So far, he was right about Lionheart's betrayal. There's no reason for him to have lied about Amber's attackers.”
“And these inventions of his? I've seen people with creation semblances doing crazy things, but it never lasts long.”
“Would you like to test one of them?”
I didn't even need a response, as curiosity was written all over Qrow's face as he pulled the headset from my drawer.
“This device is called a scouter; it can connect to any other similar device anywhere on the planet.”
“But CCT towers don't have that kind of range,” Qrow says skeptically.
“Two of these devices can communicate from anywhere on Remnant without the use of the CCT system.”
Qrow was astonished by my statement. Which was not unexpected, communication on this scale without the aid of CCTs seemed like only a distant dream, but if I mention that this device works without Dust, Qrow will question my sanity.
“I agree that this technology is incredible, but I still don't understand one thing.”
“What would that be?” I ask, finishing putting the device on my head.
“Why does it look like a neon pink headset with cat ears?”
…
“Mr. Arc said they serve as antennas for the device.”
“And why the bow?”
[Image]
image [https://lh7-us.googleusercontent.com/Vzn1OFB-MDtcrAyeE7vBv_7YO0HY42SNipei8cUyYkMVFnfBlAvYSTi9Obov_XqvqnHv7Xw7xtTSh3Vsb7e2tZzK70_vGXcH_h3mwwYWg2B4_wS6xI1pXwP7UI3qSWGVWYxlVz5FZTUyYIIHD59q3mU]
“Leave me alone, Qrow.”
…
“HAHAHAHAHA!” Qrow laughs, falling out of his chair from laughing so hard. “I love this kid.”
“I imagine you two will get along.”
After a few minutes of laughter, Qrow composes himself and sat back in the chair in front of me.
“The ears and the bow just seem like decorations. Why don't you take them off and paint them a different color?”
I sigh irritably but respond to my ally.
“This device stops working if I change its appearance in any way. Whether by painting, adding, or removing parts, and if I cover my head while using it, it also doesn't work.”
“Wow.” Qrow whispers, impressed. “The kid went all out for this prank.”
“All the other devices he builds won't work with me either. If I want to enjoy this technology, I have to use this model on my head.”
“He-he! I won't lie, Ozzy, I'm liking this kid more and more. If he's half as brilliant in the fight against Salem, this war is already won.”
“He… has his moments,” I reply in an excited tone.
“Uh-huh,” Qrow reacts to my comment. “From the sound of it, this kid is a bit eccentric.”
“Isn't the fact that a piece of technology that could revolutionize Remnant's communication system is shaped like neon pink kitty ears explicit enough?!” I asked with boiling blood and furrowing my brow.
“Don't forget about the bow,” Qrow snarks back, holding back a laugh. “Any chance I could meet the kid?”
“He's not at Beacon at the moment, but I can call him in Menagerie.”
“Menagerie? Wow, you weren't kidding about the range of this thing... but it's like 3:00 AM there, won't he be asleep?”
“I hope so.”
Although I needed to put the device on my head, it was compatible with my monitors and cameras, proving that Mr. Arc just wanted to hurt my ego by making me wear such a flashy headset.
In a few seconds, the call connected, but instead of young Mr. Arc, I was greeted by an individual wearing futuristic blue armor.
{{Secure line from Jaune Arc, Church on the line.}} Said the man in blue armor.
“Church?” I repeat, confused, staring at his projected image on the screen.
{{Yep, that's my name.}} commented the blue being, staring back at us. {{And judging by the hello kitty headset, you must be Professor Ozpin, and that guy who looks like he slept in a gutter after getting beaten up by an entire bar must be Qrow Branwen.}}
“Who's the asshole, Ozpin?” Qrow asks, slightly annoyed.
“This is the first time I've heard of this, Mr. Church.”
{{I'm not exactly a mister, I'm actually an artificial intelligence created by Project Freelancer, a Special Operations program created to study soldiers with AI implants during the war against the aliens, ensuring humanity's survival in a hostile galaxy.}}
…
Silence and shock were the only reactions from me and Qrow.
{{Let me summarize. Jaune created me, and I have my own consciousness, the ability to think creatively, and even feelings, although I'm an artificial life form.}}
“An artificial life form with feelings?” I ask curiously.
{{Indeed, although since my creation, I've only been exercising my hatred and disgust… empathy and patience have been harder to grasp with this guy.}}
I swallowed the fact that Jaune Arc had created an artificial life form and was using it as an electronic secretary.
“I'm proving to Mr. Branwen the effectiveness of this secure line. Could we speak with Mr. Arc?”
{{It's three in the morning, and you want me to wake the guy up just to show that the phone works?}}
“I think that might be too inconvenient on our part.” I reply, embarrassed.
{{And hilarious, I'll get the dude.}}
…
After a few seconds, the screen changed, showing a tired young blonde in a room illuminated by the dim light of the moon coming through the window.
{Whaaaaaat iiiis it.} Jaune asks, yawning.
“Please excuse the inconvenience, Mr. Arc, but I'm demonstrating your invention to Qrow.”
{I see…} Jaune mutters with his eyes closed. {Wait!} exclaims the young man, wide-eyed. {Just for this?}
“Basically, yes.”
{Are you serious that you called me just for this? Church, why did you pass this call to me?}
{{That's what you deserve for treating me like a secretary.}}
{I use you to keep track of my resources and schedule my appointments, you're a secretary.}
{{Because you're a wimp bitch boy to take the injection to use me properly.}}
{The super soldier serum almost killed me and is less aggressive than this virus-.}
The seemingly endless argument was interrupted by two, a female arm emerging from the darkness that grabbed Jaune.
{Blondie.} She says in a husky whisper. {Turn off this shit, you have a mission with me in bed.}
Jaune disappears, being swallowed by the darkness. We were left only with Church, who muted the audio to maintain the privacy of young Arc.
{{So…}}
“We'll talk later?” I asked, trying to end the call.
{{Agreed.}} Church replies, ending the transmission.
“Well, what do you know, it actually works,” Qrow comments sarcastically.
In response, I sigh tiredly, massaging my forehead.
“The kid's been in Menagerie for less than a week, and he's already sampling the local cuisine? Not bad.”
“Although I agree with you that Mr. Arc's recent… 'achievement' is impressive, he could have kept a low profile.”
“He's definitely going down low under her.” Qrow adds, laughing once again.
----------------------------------------
HUNTSMEN LOGS: ENTRY HEADMASTER OZPIN.
Name: Qrow Branwen
Alias: Old Crow
Allegiance: Kingdom of Vale
Weapon: Harbinger
Semblance: Misfortune (Causes bad luck around him)
STATS:
Strength: ★ ★ ★ ★
Endurance: ★ ★ ★ ★
Agility: ★ ★ ★ ★
Fighting Skill: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ✪
Mental: ★ ★ ★ ★
Aura: ★ ★ ★
Aura Skill: ★ ★ ★ ★
Semblance: ★ ★
Qrow is undoubtedly one of the most skilled and loyal Huntsmen I've ever had the privilege of knowing. His performance in combat is impressive, his dedication to the cause is unwavering, and his strategic ability is unmatched. It's no wonder he has become a trusted figure not only to me but to the entire team at Beacon, the Kingdom of Vale, and my inner circle.
However, I cannot ignore the fact that Qrow faces a personal battle with his inner demons. It's evident that his depression affects his work and relationships. But despite his personal demons, Qrow never fails to fulfill his responsibilities as a Huntsman and to his family.
Qrow Branwen may be a walking paradox, but his bravery, skill, and loyalty are undeniable. As a Huntsman, he has honored his commitment to the cause and remained determined to overcome his personal obstacles as we continue our fight against the darkness threatening Remnant.
----------------------------------------
E ai gurizada.
Curious about the bad news? I'm going to start posting this story just once a month, instead of twice a month.
I'll try to make the chapters a little longer even though they are less frequent.
And speaking about the previous chapter, we had expected reactions to the patriarch of the Arc family like, "This guy looks badass" and "I already hate him more than Noir." One reaction I didn't expect was, "Step on me, daddy."
—Lokordome:
Thanks for the Chapter! Jaune's family is shady as f***. I kinda want to have the twist of his mom just being a really nice person but I also want her to be like a Talia Al Ghul expy. I don't know what would be better.
—Response= A mother like Talia Al Ghul... interesting.
—Lokordome:
Muy buen capitulo.
Ahora que aparece la familia de Jaune en escena perdí completo respeto por ella y pensé que podría alguien apoyar a Jaune pero parece que están metidos en el pasado monárquico en especial el padre.
Otra cosa que me llama la atención es lo poco que saben de Jaune ya que si quisieran lazos con familias importantes sería con la familia de Weiss y no con la de Cardin.
El acuerdo del harén también fue un momento divertido y me preguntó si Ruby se enterará de lo del Harén como reaccionaria Yang con su hermana totalmente de acuerdo jajajajajaja.
Por último espero que Adán sobreviva a las hermanas de Jaune para darles otra bofetada a sus pomposos traseros.
—Response= Hehe! Without giving spoilers, I guarantee you that Adam will suffer horribly.
—Sleep_deprivedGuy:
*me who look at Canon Jaune who turns out to be The Rusted Knight* yeah...about that....
—Response= Yep! And in this chapter the references were even heavier.