Good evening Folks!

Welcome again to another chapter of Legacy. We're (finally) getting the story moving along, including some interesting history between the Arcs and the Winchesters(!) As always, thank you for sticking around for each chapter as I craft a story to fit them. Feedback and reviews are always appreciated. I know I keep saying that I'm trying to craft smaller chapters, and I really do mean that. I end up getting caught in lore traps that run away from me. But enough about that, enjoy the story! :)

Dormitories at Beacon were a standard affair. A surprisingly spacious sleeping area with 4 beds connected to a small kitchen and bathroom, the layout intended for a team to share in the daily responsibilities of room upkeep in the hope that it would inculcate them to function cohesively as a unit both in and out of combat. The clash of personalities resulting from four young adults stuck together day in and day out caused the expected conflicts, but for most part it worked. The more slovenly teammates rose to the occasion and by the second month most of the school's teams had their rooms squared away in a way that would have made an Atlesian Drill Sergeant proud. On the other end of the spectrum, sometimes there would be a synergistic spiral downward that had several teams' rooms achieving semi-legendary status as self-contained hazardous environment training simulators, deadly to anyone but their respective teams who dared enter.

Team CRDL's dorm fell squarely into the second group, their liberal use of air fresheners the only thing barely enough to blunt the odors even more abrasive and off-putting than their leader's demeanor. Each sleeping area was less a bed than a misshapen lumpy mess of pillows and blankets, unmade since the first day they had arrived. Clothes, food wrappers, Dust cartridges and various tools and equipment littered the floor in a minefield of odorous chaos that somehow went unnoticed by the room's occupants. The lone oasis in the sea of filth being Sky Lark's bed fastidiously made and properly put away, though such efforts stopped abruptly at the edge of his bed, as attested by the towering pile of instant noodle cups growing from his nightstand like some manner of squat stalagmite.

Motionless save for the slow march of decay a layer of discarded papers swirled into the air as the door to the room slammed open. Cardinal Winchester was the first inside; clutching his hand as he quickly picked his way across the room, heavy boots crushing or kicking a path through the undergrowth of refuse on his way to the kitchen. The rest of the team filed in slowly behind Sky gently closing the door behind.

"Fucking hell we really gotta clean this place up guys..." Sky groaned as he kicked aside a piece of clothing that had nearly completed a migration route to the door. "...I can't find my clean clothes pile anymore."

"You had clean clothes to begin with?" Russell snorted as Sky flicked him off in return while he carefully picked his way towards his bed. "If it bugs you so badly man, then do something about it." Russell replied, annoyance crossing his face for a moment as he adroitly hopped from clear patch to clear patch.

"It is getting pretty rank in here." Dove admitted as he reached his bed and brushed some sandwich wrappers from their last late night food run onto the floor. "We have any more of that air freshener from that old guy's Dust shop?"

"Used the last of it on Sky's soup cup collection." Russell jerked his thumb over to the pile. "Seriously man why don't you just throw those things out? The trash can is right-" His finger faltered as he looked around the room. Several mounds of junk were scattered throughout their sleeping area, and he uncertainly gestured in a vague direction, one of them had to be the trash can...probably.

"I'll get around to it, back off ok?" Sky growled. "With all the extra detention we've been doing I haven't exactly been spoiled for free time. At least we don't have to do that essay that Cardin got in Oobleck's..." He abruptly trailed off as Cardin trumped back into the room with a small ice pack pressed to his hand.

"You...alright Cardin?" Dove asked tentatively, shifting slightly to make sure he was out of striking range.

"Yeah..." Cardin growled. "...nice job helping me back there guys. Why don't you just cover me in barbecue sauce and throw me to the fucking Grimm after that psycho bitch was done with me?!" He snapped as he slumped down on his bed.

The tense silence that filled the room was all the more uncomfortable for the looks the remaining members gave each other. They had planned to bring their concerns to Cardin earlier today after getting out of Oobleck's class, but that was before Cardin had "earned" himself extra homework, and then being manhandled to the ground in the middle of campus. One thing they all had learned working under Cardin was that he didn't timeshare his temper. Once pissed off he stayed that way, and the threshold for him losing control of himself was uncomfortably low.

Dove finally broke the silence, privately regretting how the one time he had volunteered to help out with running the weekly supply report had effectively made him the mediator between Cardin and the rest of the team. "Look Cardin, we need to talk..." He nearly stopped at the dangerous look sent his direction. "...ok look this is something that has been bothering us pretty much since we got here." He paused again, and then looked towards Sky and Russell who, somewhat nervously, nodded for him to continue. "What the hell is your problem with Jaune Arc?"

Cardin's head cocked to one side. "My problem with-what?"

Dove hurried on. "Look man, why do you keep messing with him? I mean ok, he's an easy guy to fuck with, he doesn't have a spine worth a damn and it was fun at first pushing him around, but this much? It's getting kinda weird dude. He piss you off in a past life?" The attempt at humor quickly died on his lips as Cardin leaped back to his feet, his good hand balling into a fist. "I-I'm only bringing it up because it's causing problems man! You can't keep picking fights with him in front of people like that... we know what that Nikos chick can do, and now he has another psycho woman looking after him?"

"Yeah, I remember you dumbasses couldn't lay a single fucking finger on that redheaded bitch and just got in my way." He shot back, skipping past the fact that he had knocked Dove out during their spar with Pyrrha.

"Yeah, I remember." Dove replied evenly. "Look, I just want to know what's your beef with him? Ok so he's a fucking idiot and making fun of idiots has always been fun, but you're taking this way too seriously and it's affecting the team. Plus if that psycho doctor sister of his is hanging around campus we're going to have way worse problems than just a bad sparring session."

Sky and Russel shared a nervous glance, Dove was pushing a bit too hard, but the thought of stepping into the middle of it was about as appealing as snuggling up between two Ursai. Dove was saying things they had all been privately grumbling about since the Ursa-Sap incident, but there had never been the right moment to actually confront Cardin about it. Avoiding meeting Cardin's gaze the two were plotting out the most efficacious route out of the room so Cardin could simmer off his latest temper tantrum when their captain did something that surprised the whole team.

He didn't rage. He didn't explode or let out a torrent of curses. The mighty Cardin Winchester, biggest bully of Beacon and tormentor of so many other first years seemed to deflate before their eyes as he slumped down on his bed with a long sigh.

For a brief moment, no one moved. The rest of team Cardinal looked back and forth in frank puzzlement. They could see he was still pissed, Cardin was never good at concealing anything related to his emotions, but the fatigue his face now showed was something that they were not familiar with.

"Doesn't it bother you?" He began, his voice quiet, deflated compared to the usual roar it operated at. "Doesn't it just piss you off that he just keeps getting everything handed to him on a silver fucking platter?"

Dove cocked an eyebrow. "We uh...we're talking about Jaune right? The same guy who nearly faceplanted-into-the-ground-on-initiation-day Jaune?"

"Doesn't he mark which foot each of his shoes go on?" Russell chimed in incredulously. "That guy?"

"Yeah, that guy!" Cardin shouted as his temper flared back up like a dropped Burn Dust crystal. "Him and his whole damn family!" Cardin jumped up, stomping around the room tossing debris this way and that. "He forges his way in and Ozpin lets him stay...even makes the guy a fucking team captain!"

"Wait hold on..." Dove interrupted. "...I thought you didn't tell Professor Goodwitch about him when he-" He stumbled, remembering the Ursa incident. "-when you guys had that agreement. Did you end up telling them?"

"No, but I fucking should have." Cardin growled. "At least then it would make some kind of sense. I can't imagine someone like Ozpin or Goodwitch being tricked by that dumbass. They fucking know, and they're not doing anything about it. It's the same goddamn story all over again. The Arcs get first fuckin' pick and the Winchesters are left to pick through the scraps!" He slammed his good hand on the wall next to his bed hard enough to rattle the nightstand.

"Man what the hell are you talking about?!" Dove was thoroughly lost now. "First pick of what?"

"It's the same damn shit over and over again!" Cardin raged, pointing a finger at Dove and the rest of his team. "I've been spending damn near all my free time in the goddamn library because of all the bullshit extra work Goodwitch, Oobleck, and Peach sling my way. You wanna know what name keeps coming up in the damn history books? In fucking training manuals?"

Before they could even stutter a response he shot over them. "It's the fucking Arcs! Arc invented this, Arc designed that! Arcs fucking conquered this region before anyone else! Meanwhile nobody gives a crushed Dust crystal about the Winchesters! We're as old as they are! We fought our share of battles, we designed weapons too! But do we get any of recognition they do?!"

Cardin stalked around the room with wild eyes, fist clenching and unclenching as it searched for an outlet for its building rage.

"I uh...I guess they don't?" Russell managed to stammer out.

"Damn right we don't! And it's happening again!" Cardin shouted even louder. "The fucking worst Arc in recorded history and he has to be in my year! Making a fool of me! Cardin Winchester! When is it going to get easier for me huh? When are the Winchesters going to have our day!? Why does the fucking Arc family always have it so damn easy all of the time!?"

"Holy shit did this guy not have it easy..." Jaune muttered as he gingerly turned to the next page of the journal. As soon as Jean had departed he had wanted to start reading. The potential the book held, the stories and history...it had made his fingers tingle with anticipation. The most cursory examination told him that the book had seen a lot; burns, stains and what appeared to be teeth marks marring the cover and spine of the journal, giving it a battle-scarred appearance. Before he had a chance to crack it open however, the hospital staff had barged back into his room to conduct their daily checks and subject him to another round of unidentifiable slop that was his midday meal.

He bore it as best he could; making sure the journal was carefully hidden away under his pillow lest one of the nurses decided the worn tome was some sort of health hazard. Eager to be alone once more he made a show of shoveling down his food as best he could, commenting on how great the strained peas were in an effort to placate them from conducting further inquiries on his wellbeing.

As soon as the door shut behind the departing staff though, he pushed the tray out of the way and slipped his hand back under the pillow. Wincing at a shooting pain in his shoulder, he retrieved the journal and gently laid it down on his lap. With his good hand he peeled back the cover only to find the following pages to be nothing more than scribbled gibberish. Either the ink had worn itself away over the centuries or it was written in some text he couldn't decipher, he wasn't sure. Either way it was a bit of a blow to the excitement that had been bubbling under his skin since getting his hands on this book.

Frowning slightly, he flipped through several more of the delicate vellum pages of unintelligible scrawl before finally reaching some legible text. The date had faded out partially, but enough was visible to indicate the entry was over several hundred years ago. He eagerly looked further down the page, wondering what things were like back then...

Entry No. 1, Winter 14*smudge*

One can only wonder why I'm bothering to write this record of my travels. I can assure you it is not due to some ignoble vanity or concern about for whatever decedent thinks the musings of a wandering adventurer are worth more than a pile of beaverskin. I'm writing this because Griswald demanded that I put my grumblings to printed word instead of voicing them out loud all the time. She believes my bellyaching attracts the Grimm, the superstitious wench. As she purchased this journal with her own supplies, so I suppose I should oblige her wishes. Using it for doodles has lost its allure.

Here are my thoughts:

-It is cold as a Grimmwolf's tit.

-We are running low on food.

-We are out of Juniper Beer.

-We haven't come across another settlement in over a week.

-I have a hole in my boot.

-WereBeavers are trying to steal my supplies...the crafty buggers.

-Did I mention it was cold?

I can't seem to come up with any more on account of it depressing me. Griswald claimed doing this would help put me at ease. I suppose that's the same idealism that convinced all of us to attempt this reclamation project in the first place. Recounting these problems only reminds me of the difficulties we face each day. Therefore I can only conclude that Griswald is a liar...or is merely tired of my voice, I think she would rather you future victim endure my complaints rather than suffer through them herself.

I am inclined to believe the latter than the former. It is probably better I think this way in either case, that Iron Hammer of hers is bigger than my torso.

Bloody Werebeavers...

Jaune blinked, then read the entry again, sure that he had missed something. He had been expecting a lot from the journal. The history books he had become familiar with in the library spoke of his ancestor as a peerless warrior and tactician, uniting the disparate settlements and tribes under a single banner to finally pacify the majority of Sanus and establish the city of Vale under incredible odds and struggle. In every text he had come across, Charlemagne had been presented reverently, as the 'Savior of Sanus'. An unflappable man larger than life that did what had taken other continents far longer to accomplish and with significantly less loss of life and treasure.

This was the 'Savior of Sanus'? A man griping about the lack of beer in his canteen and-he looked back over the page-werebeavers? That was a thing? It all sounded so small, so...petty. If Jean thought this was supposed to inspire him somehow, she had one twisted sense of altruism. All he took away from this was that if one of his teammates presented him with a journal to write his thoughts down, it probably meant he was spending too much time complaining. Putting faith in his sister's judgment he carefully flipped to the next page. Then to the next. Entry after entry appeared to contain nothing more than the private grumblings of a man facing hostile settlements, bad weather-disagreements with the Winchesters?-and what appeared to be a persistent lack of sufficient quantities of Juniper Beer. All of his hopes of learning something about tactics or leadership were leaving as rapidly as steam escaping from a kettle. This was their family's Legacy? This was what Jean was so worked up over when she had smuggled this to him?

With a surge of anger, he slapped the journal shut before he read the next entry. "The hell is this all about sis?" He raged at the ceiling, the mechanical hum and beep of his medical devices his only reply.

"I'm going to need you to run that by me again." Ren demanded. At Jean's request they had gathered in JNPR's dorm room and, with the help of all present, managed to extract the door from the end of the hall and prop it back into their cracked doorframe. The drinking fountain proved a total loss, and would probably be yet another item on their punishment list from the janitorial staff.

"Like I said Ren," Jean replied simply as she piled more debris aside for disposal. Feeling a touch guilty at how bad things had started between them, her latent big-sis instincts had taken over, immediately sending her walking about the room and picking up heavier items the team hadn't dealt with yet. "Jaune gave me the skinny on what really happened here. And before you all freak out about it-" She held up her hands to the panicked looks heading her way. "-I'm not going to speak a word of this to anyone. He told me about the alibi you all concocted, and I plan to stick to it." She quickly walked over to the thoroughly battered entry door, tilted it outwards to check the hallway for students, then retreated, propping it back into place.

"First thing will be to get that door replaced in my opinion..." She muttered turning back to them. "...that's why I wanted to talk to you in private. There are a few things you need to know." She looked around for a place to sit, and realizing there weren't really any functional chairs left the team members hadn't occupied, positioned herself on the edge of what remained of Jaune's bed.

"Alright so...the main thing you need to understand is, Jaune's kind of...special..."

"We kinda gathered that!" Nora piped up. "I mean don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy and all but he's not the sharpest sword in the armory if you get my-"

"Nora!" Ren cut her off.

"Whaat?! It's true Ren, you don't have to stand up for him all the time!" She waved her hands dismissively, not noticing the rather stern look she was getting from Pyrrha.

"No wait, hold on." Jean raised her hands to stop the conversation. "I don't mean like that, I mean..."

"What is it Jean?" Pyrrha inquired delicately. "Some kind of congenital issue we need to know about?"

Jean looked over towards her. "You could say that." She sighed again, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. "Ok look, before we go any further. I need to impress upon you how important and how...sensitive this information is. This affects more than just Jaune and myself, and if I find any mention of this on Beacon's scroll net, whoever leaked it will envy that orange-haired shit I brought into line this morning."

"I uhh...I think we can handle that." Pyrrha replied as Ren nodded in agreement.

"Hoooboy this should be good!" Nora shot off, not bothering to conceal the sarcasm in her voice. "What? Juane got some ancient curse that makes him go all crazypants or something?"

Ren made to shush her again but stopped when he saw the pained expression coming from Jean. Nora looked from Ren to Jean and back again, comprehension crossing her face. "I wasn't serious I mean...wait...you're serious? I was just bsing!"

"He's really cursed!?" Pyrrha.

"Ok calm down all of you!" Jean shouted. "He's not really cursed. It's a bit... more complicated than that."

"You're still not making any sense-what's wrong with Jaune?" Pyrrha asked.

Jean didn't respond right away. Blinking slowly she took a deep breath and clasped her hands together before looking back at them. Her gaze was hard as she looked between the three young teammates, only Pyrrha able to resist turning away, and even that with some difficulty. "It's not so much what's wrong with Jaune as what's wrong with the Arc family, our bloodline…"

"Normally, if someone manages to unlock their Aura and train to discover their semblance the form it takes is unique, a reflection of their individual, for sure, but how that manifests is generally considered unpredictable. 'A reflection of your personal essence' was what they called it back when I was in school." They nodded in agreement. "For the vast majority of the hunter population, that is the case. But few rules are absolute. The Schnee family being the most well-known example of predictable manifestation. I believe one of them is currently attending Beacon in your class. You ever dealt with them?"

"Sort of..." Pyrrha replied uncomfortably. "...the one here-Weiss tried to recruit me to her team during initiation but it obviously didn't turn out that way. Our teams do practice together occasionally and eat lunch together. She's quite a...spirited huntress."

Jean grunted. "You don't have to sugarcoat it around me Pyrrha. The Schnee temper isn't all that different from the Winchesters, merely blessed by fate with a bit more competency and a whole lot more wealth. What I'm talking about though is that the Schnees have a shared family semblance. All known members of the Schnee bloodline have been Dust-casters, most of considerable ability." She leaned back against the cracked wall behind Jaune's bed, her diction slipping back into that of a teaching physician. "It is a thing they like to show off and trumpet to the world. Shows how gifted and important they are, the only family in the known world with a powerful shared semblance!" She finished, an edge of sarcasm creeping into her voice.

"The thing is, that isn't entirely true. They are public about it, but they are not the only kid on the block with a Legacy. We Arcs have a birthright of our own, and it, like our name, goes back far further than the Shnee."

The announcement stunned team JNPR, though this time it was Ren who first managed to find his voice. "Wait, but why hasn't there been anything written about that?! I've seen numerous texts about how the Schnees showcased their semblance as a sign of their genetic superiority, and it was key to them establishing themselves during the early settlement of Mantle. Why hasn't anything been said about the Arcs?"

Jean held up two fingers. "Two reasons. One, our semblance isn't as visually flashy as the Schnees' and thus easier to hide, and two, it can have... consequences for those around you." She paused and then looked down. "You had a taste of the latter earlier. For that I apologize."

"We saw it? What do you mean? When?" Nora exclaimed excitedly. Jean looked up for a moment, a concern crossing her face before closing her eyes and sighing heavily.

"It's...probably simpler if I show you." She rose slowly, almost as if with fatigue... or dread? as she walked from her brother's bed to the center of the room. "Pyrrha, if you would? You handled it the best out of the three of you." Pyrrha hesitated for a brief second, glancing to Ren and Nora for support before taking the few steps to stand before Jean, somehow feeling small before the older woman despite standing half a head taller.

"Alright, please try to relax. I'll try to make it as quick as possible." Jean closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"What are you-?" Nora began, then choked, the words dead in her throat as she threw herself behind Ren in blind panic. Ren stood in shock as arena-honed reflexes caused Pyrrha to stiffen as Jean's eyes snapped open and Pyrrha's gaze was swallowed up by the twin blue orbs. A familiar thread of icy dread shot up Pyrrha's spine, freezing her in place while her heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline and primordial fear taking hold like concentrated Grimm essence. Every instinct she had told her to flee, yet she held her ground through sheer determination as a sickening kaleidescope of horrid thoughts swam through her mind:

The first Grimm she had ever faced...

...Her first ever Mistral Tournament...

...The Initiation Exam...

The thoughts assaulted her one by one, her darkest memories reaching up from the twin cold orbs staring her down. Then Jean blinked. As quickly as it had begun the spell was broken, the memories evaporating back into ephemeral vapors. Pyrrha's knees buckled slightly with the return of control, but she remained standing.

"W-what was that!?" Nora shrieked as she peeked out from behind her partner.

"What did you do?!" Ren asked, standing guardedly in front of her, his pink aura glowing gently around the pair while he looked on in bewilderment.

"I'm sorry about that but it is easier to explain if I showed you first." Jean apologized with quiet sincerity as she helped Pyrrha back to her seat. "What you just felt is the side effect of the Arc family semblance."

"So...when we first met here, when I charged into the room? That was...?" Pyrrha breathlessly stuttered as Jean simply nodded. "But I still don't understand...how did you do it? What is it? It felt like...concentrated despair like...I don't even know how to articulate how horrible it felt!"

"It's gone through a lot of names throughout our history: Battle Focus, Dread Rage, Killing Intent." Jean ticked the terms off her fingers as she made her way back to her seat. "You've all been on missions to hunt Grimm, right? You ever have that feeling that sends the hairs on the back of your neck rigid? That something out there is watching you, waiting to pounce? In essence, that is what the Arc semblance does to those around us, just amplified by one's aura on a greater scale. To our enemies...to our allies... all are Prey in the grand hunt. An Arc's own fears dissolve, magnified to become everyone else's, or as my ancestors put it, 'One Fear becomes Many'. When an Arc fully taps into their semblance they lose any sense of fear, of doubt, their negative emotions cast out to form a protective screen and enabling them to totally focus their energies and improve combat ability manyfold."

"But you used it now when you were calm." Ren interjected. "A semblance requires a great expenditure of aura and stamina, yet you called yours up in an instant... how?"

"Very observant." Jean smiled in reply. "I take it you were the one who formulated those tonics Jaune drank?"

Ren nodded. "It's a family recipe, but I did the actual mixing and administering to Jaune if that's what you're asking. Why?"

"Meant to thank you for that." She nodded, stretching her arms before continuing. "I saw enough of his chart at the hospital to know Jaune was in a seriously bad situation there. That tonic of yours was responsible for purging the worst of the Dust contamination out of him, without it... Well, I just wanted to thank you." Ren nodded nervously in acceptance, still off balance from her earlier display as Jean's tone turned serious. "But to return to the original topic. The Arc family semblance varies a bit from member to member. Going back to the Schnees as an example, their expertise with dust magic varies, some are expert summoners of Golems and Wraiths, while others are more adept at glyphs for offensive or defensive evocations."

Jean pointed towards herself. "It's the same with us, though with more extreme variance and in that there has historically been something of a generational component. At a minimum it may just manifest as nothing more than enhanced pain suppression or accelerated healing beyond what Dust is capable of. In every case however, when our full semblance is up we are able to singularly focus our mind and body in pursuit of an objective, no matter how terrible or dangerous the situation may be, and complete it, regardless of the odds."

"Forgive me for interrupting again-" Ren began before Jean waved for him to continue. "-but what you've said so far doesn't sound all that bad. The implications for combat alone seem to make it a gift from the heavens, well at least for more remote operations. So why the secrecy about it?"

"You've already seen why." Jean replied coldly. While our semblance allows us to become exponentially more effective in combat, both mentally and physically, we do so at the expense of almost everyone else around us. Wars, battles, they are won by armies, not by a single warrior, no matter how powerful he-or she," She inclined her head towards Pyrrha, "may be, and it's hard to conduct hunting operations when there is a possibility of terrifying your entire squad. So, many Arcs have learned to…well if not suppress it, then at least use it very sparingly out in the open." Jean grimaced. "What's worse, in Jaune's case, is that there is something of a patrimonial component. It has a tendency to manifest more...spectacularly amongst the males in the family, and until recently the degree seemed to have some correlation to gender balance among siblings."

"You mean Jaune? This could all happen again? He could go all psycho crazypants on us?!" Nora demanded.

"It's a non-zero possibility, yes." Jean replied. "There have been stories...some pretty astounding. The historians have written of Arc males suddenly charging in to a horde of Grimm, ignoring all attempts at communication or reason as they destroyed everything in their path. Charlemagne was said to have taken on a Goliath alone and not just survived, but came out the victor, its head caved in using only his shield. What the histories don't say, the public ones, at least, is that he didn't want to fight the Goliath alone; it was that when he went all out his entire army abandoned him in terror."

Jean's eyes slid out of focus, remembering the passage from the journal while she had cowered under the covers in her bed, fingers trembling on the pages at the graphic description of what happened. "That was the earliest major record we have of a full force Arc semblance. You want to know why Charlemagne's team was composed of four hunters rather than five or seven? Those other three were the only ones in his entire army of thousands who could remain at his side when his semblance activated." Jean leaned back and closed her eyes.

"'With One Pillar there is strength, but no stability

Isolation will not bring success

With Four there is strength and control

Joined in a common goal The Three Pillars support the Center.

Four, united as one, will triumph over all'"

Jean opened her eyes to confused looks from the rest of the team members.

"That…isn't that the Hunter Team Precept?" Ren began. "But it's different…the line about the center... I've never heard that before…"

Jean nodded. "What I recited was the original version of it, coined by Sashka Felhardt, one of Charlemagne's inner circle and his main chronicler. An entire martial tradition, the foundation design of Hunters and their team structure, built on copying the appearance of success without understanding the unique cause of the original decision."

Team JNPR was at a loss for words, looking back and forth to each other and Jean as the enormity of what they just heard dawned upon them. Jean appeared not to notice and continued on.

"To be honest, though, the family thought it had skipped a generation. Jaune never showed any signs of manifesting even an aura growing up, he didn't even seem like he-" she paused, before continuing. "Well, anyway, our parents, almost the whole family, really, had come to the conclusion that the whole thing had skipped him over and so they let him come here, the rest of them never expecting he'd prove to be such a... impressive example of the family curse…"

Nora took a step forward. "Impressive!? In case you forgot, Jaune nearly killed us! You've got a fucked up sense of what's impressive lady!"

"I'm well aware of that, thank you." Jean countered. "I'm also aware that these extreme manifestations are exceedingly rare, from what I know of his display we haven't had one that powerful in several generations."

"But you just said-" Ren began.

"Yes I did say the males have it worse, but it doesn't always show up as severe. Most of the time it isn't all that much stronger than mine. However..." She grimaced. "...yes the more...extreme... manifestations will always occur in the male line."

"Wait, wait, male line, and earlier you said that siblings affected it?" Ren asked.

Jean frowned uncomfortably. "There has historically been a...correlation between the strength of manifestation and the ratio of male to female siblings."

"Jaune said he had what... seven sisters?" Pyrrha asked. "When was the last time that happened in your family?"

"It hasn't." Jean replied. "Charlemagne had four sisters, and another two that died in childbirth. Hard times back then, it wasn't uncommon."

"Wait, you're saying Jaune is more powerful than-" Nora's eyes went wide.

Jean sighed and shrugged. "I'm saying I don't know. Nobody really understands how this sort of hereditary semblance works and Jaune had a-and pardon the technical term-a shit-ton of Dust in his system ok? And not just any Dust but two of perhaps the most unstable and potentially toxic variants the medical community are aware of. It makes an accurate diagnosis difficult." Her eyes narrowed as she looked around the group. "And where the hell did he get those Dust drinks anyway? All he would say is he got it from another student but he wouldn't tell me who."

The team looked around uncomfortably as they considered Jean's demand for information. "Y-you won't hurt her will you? She's really a good friend and she was only trying to help him out." Pyrrha finally replied.

Jean held up her hands. "You have my word I won't harm a hair on her body. I don't think it's going to be a problem for Jaune going forward, anyway, but I'm concerned who might be lacing drinks with this shit and where they're coming from. This is starting to look a lot like the Green Scream epidemic all over again, just with a different delivery method."

"Green Scream? That some new ice cream flavor or something?" Nora blurted out.

"I wish it were. At least then I wouldn't have anything more serious to treat than brain freezes. It was a designer drug that popped up a couple of years ago. Gave you an insane boost of energy and stamina that lasted for hours. Was a big hit with the hunter and military communities for obvious reasons. I'm actually kind of glad you haven't heard of it, to be honest but-"

"Grimm's Blood!" Pyrrha suddenly exclaimed cutting Jean off. "I'm sorry!" She quickly hurried on to the confused looks of everyone around her. "I mean I've heard of something like that in Mistral. A fighter got permanently banned from the Mistral Tournament for using something called Grimm's Blood! It gave him an insane amount of energy but-"

"Let me guess...turned him into a bit of an unstable loon as well?" Jean finished for her.

"Yes..." She mused, almost in a whisper. "...I didn't fight him personally you see, but I did hear about the fallout. He kept attacking his opponent despite the safety sensors saying he was out of Aura and disqualified. It took half the referees working the event to finally subdue him. It was a terrible incident, nearly got the whole tournament canceled that year."

"That definitely does sound like Green Scream, not surprising that they'd change up the name." Jean shook her head. "Anyhow, as for Jaune? Well like I said, it could have been the dust, or he could be this generation's "Broken Soul" as one of our more poetic ancestors liked to call them. But for now we can't know for sure. Not until we get him cleaned up, out of the hospital, and back to training."

"How do you know all this?" Pyrrha asked. "Jaune told us a bit about his family but he said you don't really have much contact with them. How did you learn all of this?"

Jean grunted in amusement then leaned back against the wall. "One thing you have to understand Pyrrah is that when you have a family line as long and well known as ours, your ancestors tend to start writing things down. Damn near everything really. 'Preserve the wisdom for the next generation' or something, make sure the name lives on, that their descendants have an edge over the next generation of all the other great houses. What Dust works best, what tactics to avoid, where all the bodies are buried, so forth and so on. Keep doing that for enough years and the family library and vaults start getting crammed with all sorts of stuff to the point that no one person even knows what all is there. Makes separating the wheat from the chaff a pain in the ass. But I lucked out when I had the chance to poke around in Dad's archives and found some nuggets of value amongst the reams of self-congratulating personal diaries and receipts for two centuries of landscapers tending the manor grounds."

"So what did you find?" Nora rejoined the conversation.

"Well I certainly found things that help explain this mess with Jaune." Jean said waving vaguely towards the rest of the room. "Found an impressive recipe for Dust infused ice cream of all things, and how best to treat spider bites, that actually came in handy when I was working a field hospital a few years back, you would not believe how even when you think you finally have a relatively sterile infirmary setup those eight-legged buggers will sneak in to-" She smiled. "The rest, well, you'll forgive me if I'd prefer to keep that to myself for now. A family does have to keep some of its secrets. And going over the ones I can talk about would take too long anyway." She finished and stood up. "The more important thing we have to discuss now is where do you want to go from here?"

"What are you talking about?" Pyrrha's look of confusion was mirrored on the rest of the team's faces.

"I mean what do you guys want to do with regards to Jaune? Have you decided? He gave me his decision, but this isn't just a team matter, you deserve to make choices yourself."

"Oh yeah?" Nora challenged. "And what's Crazypants 'decided' then?"

"He wants to earn your trust back." Jean replied. "He wants nothing more than to get out of that hospital bed and start training again with you all if you'll have him back. His words, not mine by the way."

"Just like that?" Ren asked.

"Just like that." Jean finished. "Look, I already know he's spoken with each of you since the... incident. I'm not saying this simply because he's my little brother. This is all his decision, he really does want to continue training to be a hunter and be a part of team JNPR. Hell, I even offered him the possibility of quitting Beacon and coming with me and he turned me down." She confirmed the shocked looks heading her way from the others in the room. "I would have found him work where I live, and he certainly would earn decent coin, ex hunter or not."

This was stretching the truth a tad if she was being honest, but it did drive home the point better with his teammates. "He refused point blank. His singular focus right now is getting well and trying to earn his place back on your team, one way or another." She folded her arms.

"So what's it gonna be?"

"I need to get the hell out of here." Jaune fumed at the empty room. His vital monitors beeped at him in admonishment as his heart rate climbed in concert with his frustration. What the hell had he been thinking? Did he really expect a falling apart old journal to solve his problems? All he had learned so far was where his dad got his preference for Juniper Beer. It was all a Grimm-damned waste of time. Here he was cooped up in this damn bed with the horrible slop that passed for food and these damn rods sticking out of his arm and legs.

He glared in annoyance at the shiny chrome protruding from his flesh. The mounts had become a consistent annoyance over the past several days, their presence a reminder of his injuries and an increasingly large portion of the background pain he felt every waking moment. He felt trapped, like a caged animal. Dust's sake he had been a caged animal for the first two days being chained to the bed and everything. Even now it seemed like half the hospital acted like at any minute he was going to turn into a Beowulf and eat a nurse.

He exhaled loudly as he fell back onto the pillow. Looking to his mangled left arm he eyed the metal bolts sticking up with unmasked disgust, wishing somehow they would just go away. He wiggled his fingers and felt the rigid pain of the metal as it ground against his mending bones and tendons, feeling the sinew stretch around the unyielding obstacles. One of the nurses had caught him doing that earlier in the week and had scolded him for it, but right now he didn't care. The pain reminded him of why he was here. How he had failed. Failed at being a leader, a hunter,..and an Arc. In spite of everything, he did still want to be a hunter. He had told the truth to Jean several hours ago, but with reflection and his source of hope a fool's errand, those words now sounded hollow, a bout of false bravado in the face of all of...this.

He continued staring his arm. Focusing on all of the minute details he could; each scar, each bandage and IV lead, he catalogued and stored as a reminder of how he had failed. Not just failed, screwed up. Moving further down his limb his gaze fell upon the unbandaged section of his hand. A large cut had sealed itself leaving behind a rather impressive scab that was well on its way to scarring. What had made that? He wondered idly, his wounds so numerous there were few whose causal blow he could recall. Another reminder that Jaune Arc was a failure. Jaune Arc couldn't figure things out on his own, couldn't lead a team, couldn't stop those worthless ingrates from standing in his-

He jerked upward. What the hell was he thinking?! Before he had a chance to ponder any further, he felt his chest suddenly seize around his heart. His uninjured hand shot up to his breast, but the sensation disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. Looking around quickly, he felt his stomach drop, as if he had just come to the edge of a tall cliff. But...he was here in bed. In this room in a hospital...how could-?

The room...

Something was wrong with the room...his eyes frantically looked around. Everything was the same and yet...he turned and craned his neck towards the monitors and machines keeping him healthy. They were still there, flashing and showing his readouts climb higher and higher as his stress mounted, and yet... everything had gone deathly quiet. All the background noises he had gotten used to over the past several days, the PA system, the AC, muffled click and clack of feet going past his door...they had all disappeared.

"What the hell...?" None of this made any sense. Looking around again his eyes scanned the room's interior, trying to understand what was going on before falling upon his injured arm once again. He bared his teeth in a snarl. If only this grimm-damned thing wasn't stuck here like this and-

Something was...he wiggled his fingers. Something was different, it was right in front of him and yet he couldn't quite figure it out. What was different? What was it? And why did it matter so much?

The scar! The large scab on top of his hand was gone! As if there had never been an injury there at all.

"How did I do that?" He had been certain it was there before. He remembered it itching horribly on the first night and he had just seen it, hadn't he? Either he was even crazier than he previously thought or he had just healed it like nothing. He tried to recall what he had done to make that happen. He had been looking at it really hard...wishing it would go away...

Was that it? It couldn't be that simple...could it? No, that would mean he could have-but that would be impossible! No one could heal like that. Not without Dust or medicine or something and-He shook his head again. "Focus, man. Slow down and think." He exhaled and tried to slow his breathing. Before he had taken another breath his chest tightened again with an ominous familiarity.

"Oh no...not now...not here!" He closed his eye and shook his head. Back to the hand. Don't think about anything else. He wanted the scar to go away. He wanted to heal so he could get out of here. That was it wasn't it? Was it that simple? Just...think of his arm healing and that would be it? The thought sounded ludicrous before he had even finished it, but...

"Worth a shot?" He muttered, asking his injured arm for its opinion though it mutely failed to respond. Fine, he'd start small then. His eye was drawn to the glittering steel pins in his hand, focusing on the first metal pin holding his index finger's knuckle. Visualizing the size and shape, he closed his eyes, imagining a nurse finally removing it, seeing it exit his flesh, to move his finger without feeling that damn pin in it and-

"OW!" A stab of pain exploded up his arm and he bit his lip to suppress another scream while bright pops of light dazzled him under his eyelids. After taking a few more ragged breaths the pain subsided. Did it work? It felt like he had just been stabbed in the hand. He almost didn't want to find out either way, but he had to know, he had to see if this crazy idea was bearing fruit. Taking a deep breath he cracked open his good eye and peeked at his hand, then opened his eye wide in shock. The first thing he saw was blood. A large stream tracing out from where the pin had been fixed to his knuckle. The pin itself was sitting in a bloody pool on the bed, the finger it had been mounted to bloody, but the skin, once pierced, now unblemished.

"Holy shit it actually worked." He stated, moving his finger without any pain. Perhaps "worked" was a generous assessment of the whole experience, but he was relieved to have a functioning finger, though it had come at the cost of feeling a metal spike being driven through his hand. Still...

He took another deep breath and focused on the next pin. Then the next, soon settling into a routine for each one: first imagining the pin being removed, followed by nearly coming to tears as the searing pain followed again and again with each rod forcibly expelled from his flesh. Strangely enough, the more pins he expelled from his body, the less and less the pain seemed to reach him. It was a surreal feeling, like the pain was fading from his immediate focus to be a mere background distraction. Either way, he was happy for the relief. Breathing carefully, with an eye to the monitors lest he overexert and draw an interruption from a nurse he was almost halfway through the sets of pins on his arms when his chest seized again, more violently this time, driving the breath from his lungs. As he tried to suck more air back in, the faintest whisper echoed inside of his head.

What are you doing?

Jaune froze. Staring at the pooling blood gathering below his arm, he felt cold sweat break out across his skin. No. Not again. He wouldn't let it. Not here. Not with all of these people around. Taking what felt like the hardest breath he'd ever taken in his life, he forced his chest to expand and stared at the next pin in his arm. He managed three more pins this time before his chest seized again so painfully he gagged and threw up the morning's breakfast all over his chest. Sputtering and spitting to get the taste of bile out of his mouth, his lungs slowly, almost begrudgingly inflated with fresh air, like a small child reluctantly picking up their room at the end of the day.

Trying to fight? It won't work. You're too weak.

"Go... to...hell" He rasped to the empty room, gagging again as a fresh surge of bile welled up in his throat. The smell and taste was ghastly, but it least gave him a distraction, something tangible to focus on.

Go? We're already there...

Forcing himself to ignore the taunt, he turned back to his arm and resumed his work. Gritting his teeth it seemed like hours before he finally managed to force the last pin from a spot near his elbow and for it to fall to the floor with a loud tingling of metal.

"Guuh..." The coppery scent of blood, sweat, and vomit mixed with the too-sanitary lemon disinfectant air of the hospital, making him want to retch again. His arm looked like it had just hatched from a bloody metallic cocoon. But the pain, the restriction, were both gone. With ginger movements of his fingers, he flexed his hand, then wrist and finally the elbow, testing the motion of his newly liberated appendage for the first time since the fight against his team shattered it. He had done it. He had really healed something as major as this! He couldn't wait to tell Jean and...

The elation at his recent victory left him just as quickly as it had arrived. His gaze traced down his body to fall upon his legs, each laden with at least double the number of bolts in his arm. Just getting through the arm had been bad enough but this...and his other eye... Could he possibly regenerate that much damage...?

You can't. Do you really think you can fight without legs? And half blind? Give up.

"I said go to hell!" He gagged midway, as his chest seized yet once more, sending waves of pain rippling across his chest and doubling him over. A red flashing strobe started flickering on one of the monitors behind him, sending crimson lances of light dancing across the ceiling and walls of the room. He resisted the temptation to consider what it meant and turned back to his legs.

"Got...k-keep...going..." The declaration came out more as a gurgle, but the intent was clear enough to anyone that might have heard. He brought up his newly healed hand and felt the patch covering his eye. Healing wounds and bones was one thing but could he really fix something this complex? Dust's sake this whole experience was insane. If it weren't for all the pain he was going through he would have sworn it was another nightmare. Then again, the line between nightmares and reality had blurred for him since coming to Beacon. He had to keep moving forward if he was going to get out of this damn place and get back to his team.

He blinked. That was it. Images of his teammates flashed through his mind, each one a source of familiarity and warmth to blossom within him. Nora...Ren...Pyrrha. The thought of being with them...training with them...just being in a normal bed again in their dorm room…He took another look towards his legs, then felt the patch over his eye one more time.

Depending on your team again? It will not work, you fool. They will abandon you. You are weak, incapable, nothing without me.

Taking a shuddering breath, he closed his good eye and focused as hard as he could. For a second, it felt like he had messed up, overreached, that nothing was going to happen. Then a fire blazed in the ruined socket, roaring down his body, the start of a scream caught on his lips before conscious thought fled before an armada light and pain.

"All I'm saying is that we could have simply waited for Jaune to be discharged instead of using up our free period!" Weiss huffed as team RWBY made their way across the hospital lobby.

"Easy there Ice Queen, you might let some compassion leak out of your frozen heart." Yang said rolling her eyes.

"Seriously Weiss, it's just a quick visit!" Ruby interjected before Weiss could lob her verbal retort. "Jaune's been cooped up in that room for days now, the least we can do is say hello and give him encouragement to get better. Besides you owe him for initiation anyway!" Ruby said wagging her finger at the Heiress.

"And just what do I owe that blond dolt!?" She shrieked. "If anything he owes me for all the grief he's put me through with that horrible guitar of his!"

"Didn't he grab you out of the air and break your fall from the Nevermore-?" Ruby began. Weiss flared with sudden anger.

"Which was all YOUR fault by the way! If you hadn't been such a reckless, brain-dead-"

"We're next." Blake interrupted quietly. Ignoring the bickering going on with the rest of her team while they moved through the queue, she surveyed the sights and smells of the lobby, amber eyes darting back and forth as her bow flattened against her head.

After a lengthy series of warnings from the receptionist followed by a brief guide how to get around, the group made their way deeper into the hospital to where Jaune's room had been indicated. As they walked through the hallways, dodging personnel and patients, the argument rekindled itself again.

"Seriously Weiss, if you were gonna throw such a fit, you didn't have to come with us." Yang groused. Her own reason for coming along was more simple curiosity than anything else. Jaune had managed to survive a full blown Dust explosion in his dorm and still had all his limbs attached. That alone placed him a few notches higher in her book. Maybe her initial impressions about him had been wrong? Certainly couldn't hurt to find out. If he could take that kind of punishment, he'd make a worthwhile sparring partner, she grinned to herself. Outside of Pyrrha, good challenges had become hard to find since the beginning of the year as her reputation scared off most of everyone else in their class.

"I certainly wouldn't be if a certain someone hadn't abused her position on the team!" Weiss shot back, sending a wilting glare towards Ruby who, to Yang's pride, held her ground against the heiress.

"We're a team Weiss. And part of being a team means we have to do things together! That means combat practice, cooking the food, cleaning-" Weiss finally threw up her hands in surrender.

"Ok ok! I get it!" She said with a sigh. "I still think it's an abuse of power, and a waste of time. We're going to see him in class eventually anyway; we don't need to spend our free time walking around in this disease factory to see someone not even on our own team."

"He has a name Weiss!" Ruby pouted.

"I'm not one to normally agree-" Blake began to scandalized looks from Ruby and Yang.

"Don't tell me you're taking her side!" Yang exclaimed but Blake quickly shook her head before looking around the corridor. They were almost to Jaune's room. Blake had been quiet about it to this point, but the mounting sense of discomfort in her gut couldn't be ignored any longer.

"-No no it's not that. It's just..." She paused, fidgeting slightly. "...I-I don't really feel comfortable in hospitals ok? They just...Can we please just see Jaune as quickly as possible and get out of here? I swear I don't have anything against the guy Ruby, I just don't like being here ok?"

Ruby scrunched her face in disappointment but nodded to Blake's request.

"Finally some sense!" Weiss exclaimed. "Come on that dolt's room should be right around here somewhere? Where is...?" She stopped midstride when she saw the horrified expression that had suddenly appeared on Blake's face. "Blake? What's going on?"

Blake's eyes were as wide as the plates from the cafeteria while her bow made an admirable attempt to reach for the ceiling. "Did-did you guys hear that?!" She hissed. Her whole body had gone rigid, hands tightening into fists, her whole body white as a sheet. She wasn't the only one reacting to something going wrong, either. Several hospital staff in the hallway had also stopped, looking around the corridor in confusion.

"I didn't hear anything Blake, maybe you were just imagining things?" Ruby offered meekly.

"I know what I heard Ruby!" Blake shook her head sharply. "That was a scream and it was coming from down that way." She pointed further along the hallway.

"Should we...should we get someone? A doctor or something?" Yang asked looking around with mounting concern which only intensified when the loudspeaker above them crackled to life.

"RAPID RESPONSE TEAM TO HIGH SECURITY ROOM #1 REPEAT, RAPID RESPONSE TEAM TO HIGH SECURITY ROOM #1 POSSIBLE CARDIAC ALERT IN PROGRESS"

"Great! Just great, now we're going to be stuck in some medical emergency and we don't even-" Weiss was about to continue her tirade when a loud roar of pain reached their ears. The scream itself was muffled, but its sheer agony pierced through walls and cut to the bone, sending a collective shudder through them all.

"That was Jaune!" Ruby yelled. "Jaune's in trouble!" She shouted, bursting into a cloud of rose petals as she rocketed up the corridor towards a door marked with more warning labels than any other in the hallway.

"Ruby wait! Stop!" Yang called after her. The rest of the hallway was reacting in slow motion to the sudden events. Nurses were now fully turning to face the source of the outburst, and some of the more perceptive staff had already taken their first step in Ruby's direction. None could match the speed of Ruby Rose, however, and before anyone was even within arms grasp of her crimson blur, she had reached Jaune's door and thrown it open.

It was as if she pulled open the lid to a nightmare. Worse than that, worse than anything she might of imagined, more akin to something out one of those horror flicks Yang enjoyed tricking her into seeing.

Trying to process the scene before her the first thing Ruby registered was the smell. A foul mix of vomit, blood, and body odor slammed into her making her dry heave almost immediately. Stumbling forward, her foot slipped on some object on the floor. Looking down, her eyes went wide as she saw a thin metal rod sitting in a spatter of blood sticking out from beneath her boot. Looking further along the floor her gaze traced a bloody path, misshapen rods and other bits of metal scattered in a splash of blood, a two-dimensional blast of shrapnel bursting in the direction of the doorway. Following the trail of blood and metal in the dim light of the room, her eyes were drawn to a strange shimmer at the other end.

A pale glistening form perched on the bed, bloody flesh wreathed in bent metal. It crouched like some grotesque blood-drenched larva newly hatched, and she struggled vainly to comprehend what she beheld. She tried to speak, tried to understand what it was she was seeing, her mind swirling with question after unanswered question. This was supposed to be Jaune's room, wasn't it? Where was he, what was going on? What had made that horrible noise? She took another step forward, trying to get a better look. Another step, the stench somehow growing even worse, another step-

A blast of air whipped by her head, followed by a loud thud as something embedded itself in the wall next to her. Turning to look she saw yet another metallic rod, dripping with fresh blood sticking out of the wall near the door.

"Aghhh…think…I think that's the last…uhh?"

Thankful for her lightning reflexes she turned back, even more on guard to seek the source of the quiet, stammering voice.

The... thing shifted, uncoiling from out of the center of the halo of twisted steel. A shock of messy blond hair caught her attention first, followed by two intensely cerulean eyes that pierced into her mind as easily as would one of her 50 caliber sniper rounds.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't speak.

The moment stretched out, her whole world being swallowed by those two intense blue orbs that regarded her presence. The thing's eyes cocked to the side, then squinted as they appraised her presence. She vaguely registered the sound of approaching footsteps as the eyes stared at her for what felt like ages before the thing spoke again. The previous fear and horror suddenly broke, the familiar voice filling up her mind with an overbearing yet altogether gentle power, like being submerged in a warm bath.

"Ruby...is that you?"

Until next time folks!