SUNDAY NIGHT, ATLAS ACADEMY
"PARENT'S DAY"
It was always a treat to see night pass through in the city of Atlas.
Lights of pale gold and bright blue, criss-crossed the skyline below Team HJNS' balcony in a xenon honeycomb. The streets were packed with people gaping up in awe, filing in and out of massive restaurants, malls, and theatres, posing with Atlesian Knights for selfies. Faint screams and the sounds of loud music from the scrolling advertisements and monolithic attractions were audible even to Jericho Piper, perched on the railing of his team's deck. He looked down at the people of his home city with golden eyes that had gone soft at the tail end of a long weekend, already packed full of stressful interaction with buoyant people. This was different than a cruise ship, though. This was a true metropolis, the central processing unit of all Remnant, hundreds of thousands of people all desperate to visit the brushed-titanium brain of Atlas and stand amidst its flaring neurons.
The young knight took a long drink of his beer and sighed.
"I should report you," noted a wry voice.
"Atlas Academy's substance policy doesn't end when you walk off campus. We pay for the condo, you play by the rules."Jer
hmmphed dismissively.
"So when you were here with your team, you guys channel-surfed and drank black coffee all day?""It's a hardy way of life," Troy Piper deadpanned. "A couple of princesses like you and Babs would never understand."The corners of Jericho's mouth rose begrudgingly.
"You're probably right. You having one?""If you're offering." "I was." Of course, Troy Piper already had one in his hands; the offer was merely belated courtesy, and if Jericho hadn't wanted to sacrifice one of his team's precious brewskis, he would be told to go fuck himself. Part of Jericho's upbringing had been a series of lessons in obfuscating, blatant hypocrisy. Trust your instincts, until it's time follow your orders. Never show mercy, but don't forget to touch base with your heart. Get a haircut, you gender-bender...but careful never to nick your rune. Above all, only one thing had remained consistent: Jericho's life belonged to Atlas. So did his father's.
So underneath the mild banter, Jer knew that Dad was a little icy on his decision.
"Did you bring the paperwork?" Jericho continued mildly, still perched on his balcony like a falcon.
"Nicole said they'd been working on it since yesterday. By now it should be done.""You're in a hurry," his father said evasively.
"You've only been back a few hours. Was there something in the water on that ship? Something that made you forget the one and only ambition you've been carrying a torch for since you could walk?""I wouldn't leave if I didn't think Atlas would keep ticking without me. I have--""--responsibilities?" His father's eye was on his arm.
"Responsibilities," Jer agreed. He was quiet for a second, almost sullen. His trust had been pricked.
"Captain, I'm not a time bomb.""Dad," Troy Piper corrected with a hint of reproach.
"Sometimes I think we did too good a job on you, kid.""Not too late for me to be a pop idol. Babs and I could be the next Osmonds.""Maybe Sonny and Cher.""They were married, and Sonny died young.""Doing something stupid and unnecessary, yeah.""Be serious.""I am. Amateurs on a double black diamond are the worst."Jericho rolled his eyes and sighed. His father had begun bantering with him and treating him more like an equal as the years went on, and having spent so much time around a twin sister and a team like HJNS, it was...quaint, in a small way, to have a relationship with the man who had given birth to him. Even his rune was faintly pulsing, matching the three pulsing maroon stripes shaved into one side of his father's crew cut. But sometimes, he wished for the prolific, one-note specialist who had raised him and his sister. He was less frustrating to talk to. More direct. Direction was something that the young Gold Stripe needed more than ever after having made his decision on the flight back from
Sleipnir."...My gut's telling me to do this," Jer admitted.
"I may have a lead on the Fiordilatte girl, and I hate leaving that...business unfinished. The White Fang in Vale was completely annihilated almost overnight by some Phantom Force that I've never heard of. And these kids from Haven, or Beacon, or wherever, they're all right in the middle of it. I feel like I could do some good here. For Atlas...and for myself. Maybe...I need to learn to function outside of Atlas."Part of giving your life to Atlas was leading the most well-rounded life imaginable. Captain Troy Piper knew that as well as anyone...and Jer, unlike his precocious twin sister, had always been comfortable remaining within the borders of the military world. A trip to Vale would do him some good, as long as the people didn't break him.
"Be honest: did you meet somebody?""No."Enormous orbs of light, like guileless blue eyes in the sky, shone the light of truth over Jericho's lie. The onyx of the night sky between those lights was unnervingly still.
"But I think Vale is where I need to be if I want to find...myself."Troy Piper sighed and took a long drink from his beer.
"The paperwork's done," he confirmed, after a long, hard look into his son.
"I left it on the coffee table; there's a holiday at Beacon tomorrow, so you can start courses there with a team on Tuesday after a talk with Ozpin. General Ironwood should have vouched for you by then.""Thanks, Dad." Jericho's gloved hand closed around the balcony, and he looked towards his father with a brief softness to the archangelic cast of his face.
"...Do you want me to call for a pizza?"His dad looked taken aback.
"Should you be taking a red-eye on a full stomach?" Troy challenged.
Jericho shrugged.
"Better than flying on empty.""You may throw up.""I have a strong stomach," Jer replied coldly, gloved fingers twitching on the railing.
"I just need the right seatmates."
MONDAY MORNING, VALE
PARENT'S DAY - PREGAME SHOW
Lieutenant Jericho Piper, Atlas Academy Gold Stripe-on-sabbatical, would have carpet-bombed a whole peninsula for another pair of seatmates.
"It's been super long since we've flown, right Chérie?" said a moustachioed middle-aged man to his left.
"Nearly a decade! We went and saw the Vytal Festival, remember?" replied the pretty middle-aged woman to his right.
"How could I forget? Buying that lottery ticket was probably one of the best decisions I've ever made!""A frivolous purchase with little chance of a sizable return?""Gotta admit that we got to have lots of fun right? And don't worry, it definitely wasn't a better choice than marrying you.""Oh darling, you know exactly what to say."As was the case with most of the ills that had befallen Jericho over the course of his life, his current predicament was rooted in one of his only true psychological weaknesses - not being able to truly commit to being heartless around certain people. When a benevolent pair of forty-something sweethearts had parked themselves on either side of him and started promptly fawning over each other like young sweethearts, plumbing the depths of middle school infatuation, Jericho had listened to them swoon for a couple minutes and silently indulged them for a couple minutes.
Then, with one of his faint, calm smiles that he sometimes allowed on his face around people he knew he would never see again, he offered to let the man closest to the aisle have his center seat, allowing Jer to get out from the romantic two-front war he was trapped in and allowing them to schmooze to their hearts content. Apparently, there was something heartrendingly reluctant enough about Jer's politeness and generosity that they had decided to smother him in thanks for a few minutes. By then, he was starting to grow a headache and a couple regrets, so he had politely excused himself from the love-fest and put on a pair of headphones Babylon had bequeathed him for his birthday.
It was all going well for a while until that evil pretzel merchant came and gave all three of them a small little snack baggie. Jericho had taken his headphones off long enough to hand down the pretzels to the happy couple - which, as it turned out, had been two seconds too long. He was instantly asked what he had been listening to for the last couple hours and, figuring the question was harmless enough, answered truthfully.
Nina Simone. The unique songbird of her generation.
It turned out that, with that answer, the unfortunate knight had crossed the Rubicon via Tunnel of Love.
Instantly, they had perked up at the name, rambling on about their daughter and what a fan she was of the music of generations prior. It was, apparently, their daughter who they were coming to see - a young girl, about his age, actually, who was attending Beacon Academy and was having a special family day they were being flown out to.
It was here that Jer started to study the faces of his seatmates closely, as his stomach began to sink. Sure enough, the name came a second later.
[͎̕i̱͎̮̺]҉͇̮̙G͏̼͈̱̗ͅ ̕҉̪r̬̝̻̼ ̷̶͉̤̠̳͚͉͟a͈̟͚̱̞͘͠ ̫͍̰͟͝t̨̘͓͓̝̪͔͈̰̟͞ ̯͕̪̭̜͚̞̗͜͝i͕̩̜̝̳͙̘̘͝ ̧͕͝ą̨̣̜͉̮͈̙͇̖̩.̢̛̛̤̹̬̰̞̻[҉̴̰̟̱̙̕/̯̝̝́ͅi̯͇͉͚]̲̺̣̣̫̗͙͝ͅHe had tried clamming up, but to no avail; it was all he could do not to go dead inside as he listened politely to their stories about Gratia, the knot in his stomach tightening as they regaled him of stories with their precious older daughter (and, apparently, a sister, seated in the aisle in front of him and
blissfully ambivalent to everything going on around her; Jer envied her for her inner Zen) and their shared interests. Finally, as they were telling their twentieth high fructose story about their precious daughter, Jer couldn't stand it any longer.
"That doesn't sound like the Gratia I kn-"His gloved hand clenched on the armrest so hard that the laminated wood paneling cracked. He wanted to strangle himself. But instead of wondering what the Gratia he knew was
actually like, they seemed to have focused on the second half of his sentence entirely. Both looked fifteen years younger at the news that their daughter had an acquaintance; especially, Jer realized with a sick lurch in his chest, one as handsome and well-behaved as him.
From then on, he had become the unwilling victim of these two adults - both of whom had long since milked him for any stories he had of he and Gratia's antics (censored to protect them from the classified particulars of the last 72 hours) and had, once off the airship, pleaded with him to come along on their shopping trip and help carry things for them while they went on their first spin through Vale in a decade.
Jericho, damning himself for surrendering to the faint plucking of his coal-coated heartstrings, had agreed through his teeth. It had been a disaster; not for them, they were having the time of their lives, but for Jericho, holding bags in both hands, and his own wallet between his teeth, it was a circle of hell even a remorseless, unrepentant sociopath such as he didn't merit.
At least he could slightly move his jaw again. To be polite - and perhaps because, after a couple hours of shopping with them, he had gotten the sense that they didn't get to treat themselves very often - Jericho had bought Gratia's mother a king-size chocolate wafer bar for she and her husband to split. His act of generosity had been a bear trap; they had insisted on breaking off one of the long, enormous wafers for his own consumption, out of a sense of some pure-hearted chivalry he could only hope to possess as a knight one day, and left with no other alternatives Jericho had taken a bite.
He hated chocolate. He had weaned himself off it early in childhood and had rarely, if ever, strayed from his restrictive path. The first bite of chocolate he'd taken a reluctant bite of had reminded him why; instantly, the rich sweetness of the milky chocolate had stiffened his jaw, the crack of the wafer between his teeth rang in his ears like a point-blank gunshot, and the sudden hybrid sensation had driven tears into his eyes. But the parents had misinterpreted his discomfort as a sensory overload of emotion, not of putting pure junk into his finely-tuned body.
Somehow, Mother Mindaro had gotten it into the idea as Jer hurriedly wiped at his eyes that he had been somehow neglected as a kid, and had lacked for sweets and the basic affection that most children craved. His quick, fervent attempts to dissuade her had only cemented her conclusion.
She had since redoubled her efforts to coddle him. Jericho wanted to die.
"Nnnngh," the Gold Stripe grumbled absently, teeth still clenched around the corner of the black leather wallet.
"We're really sorry for imposing on you like this," said Severa Mindaro apologetically, turning away from a display of luxury chocolates to address Jericho. Her soft features were very much like her older daughter's, but the expression of concern (and a slight amount of guilt) present on her face was rarely one that was found on Gratia.
"Are you sure you don't want any more chocolate, Jericho?""You're free to take as much as you want, yaknow?" agreed Valentinian Mindaro with a nod.
"A garçon like you should enjoy the most of his youth! And that means eating lots of chocolate without worrying about fattening up like me!""I would have noticed if we had any snacks for you to fatten up on, dear."An expression of mock disappointment found its way onto the
male Mindaro
patriarch dad father papa.
"Not denying that I'm not fat? Tu me fais du mal!""Oh don't be silly, Val. I wouldn't care at all if you were fat or not."You probably should. It could probably add fifteen years to this saccharine nightmare of a marriage. All this sweetness plus too much fat could spell a very quick end to any storybook. But Jericho didn't say that. They seemed like good people.
After three syllables' worth of trying and failing to speak with a Mistralian leather billfold in his mouth, Jericho released his jaw's iron grip on the wallet and quickly brought up his left leg into an L-shape to kick the wallet back into the air like a footbag. Bending forward slightly, the Atlesian caught the wallet in the full palm of his left hand and wrapped his gloved fingertips around it as capably as possible with all the shopping bags in his hand.
"I'm alright, Madame Mindaro. I have nowhere to be, except for the same place you're going." He managed to wedge the wallet halfway into his left pants pocket and then brought himself back up to his full height, scarlet strand of hair pulsing slightly and almost seeming to burrow for cover in the nape of his neck.
"And I ate before my red-eye. Honest.""Well if you say so." There was a grudging tone in the mother's voice. While she had acquiesced to his refusal of chocolate, it was quite clear that she was still of the thought that he needed to take some more for his own, especially with all the help he had provided them.
"Oh, speaking of places to go, Galla's waiting for us on campus! The Family Day activities are starting soon, aren't they?""First one's at 9.40," recited Valentinian, who had pulled out the brochure that Beacon Academy had so kindly provided to them.
Severa turned back to the rune-haired boy.
"We should head back. You must be wanting to see your new school too, right Jericho?""Yeah, I'm excited."He had been ten years old on his first day of school. The Bastion Gauntlet had been a two-and-a-half square kilometer hell of cold water, barbed wire, five-story vertical climbs, and swinging cattle prods - all prefaced by a six mile run in the famous Solitan winter.
For the bastard son of a secret agent, a mother's disapproving glare was something that could be weathered easily.
"I miss sitting in a good lecture."
Nerd.Valentinian chuckled.
"Keep up the good work! Don't let that enthusiasm die too quickly, you hear me?"His wife quickly nodded in agreement.
"Do your best, okay Jericho? Now, let's get going. Galla must be sick and tired of waiting for us. I'll send her a text on the ride back."Jericho nodded, albeit with a somewhat distracted, pensive look on his face. The love and encouragement these people doled out like candy (literally) was...rewarding, in a small way. He wasn't unhappy with his own upbringing; he and his father got along, though perhaps more as colleagues than as family, and without his presence there as a solid, impenetrable figure throughout his youth Jericho would have never gotten as far as he did at Atlas.
Still. He supposed this...bizarre swooping sensation in his gut...if indeed it was affection...
Could be tolerated.
The Atlesian stepped out slightly and lifted up one bag-laden arm like Liberty, bearing her torch; after a couple brief hails, each growing progressively more direct and forceful, a cab had pulled over on the curb nearest to the Mindaros, and Jer waited for them to crawl in and arrange their bags comfortably before he sidled in behind them.
Severa shifted slightly to the side, giving the boy some more room to properly sit down.
"Thanks again for all the help, Jericho. I don't believe we could've bought all these things without it.""You're enabling her choco dépendance too," added Valentinian.
"It's not an addiction!""Is obssession fine?"The male Mindaro found himself being lightly elbowed by his wife, who was already pulling out her old phone to write up a text.
"I was happy to help, Madame Mindaro. Mall crawls are nothing new or unpleasant for me."It was a half-true statement, give or take a little falsehood. In truth, his seven years at Bastion Academy
had subjected Jer to an endless procession of weekend shopping trips at the hands of his teammates, Babs, and whatever other girl Speer had brought along. That girl inevitably brought around a few single friends of her own, which inevitably led to the other Atlesian boys being picked at like an unfamiliar dish at a restaurant for hints of dating potential.
The Mindaros, on the other hand, had so far proven to be so nauseatingly devoted to each other that any marital infidelity for his sake seemed like a statistical impossibility. That removed any reason he may have had to seek refuge in one of the bookstore coffeehouses or hide in the densely packed EMAX theatres - and they had, thankfully, proven easier to chaperone than Babylon around Rich.
The presence of people with only one degree of separation from the word 'normal' made shopping a...
nice tolerable net positive
? experience.
"And neither is enabling the quirks of those around me," he added, turned towards the cab window, so that the teasing edge to the tiny smile on his face only reflected off the glass.
"The chocolate was bought for you. Go wild."Discord was evident on Severa's face over whether or not to succumb to her gluttony (and thus preventing the helpful and charming boy she viewed Jericho as to eat his own fairly-earned share of the chocoloate), but charity quickly fell to desire, particularly with an explicit approval to
'go wild' on the sweets, and soon enough the mother had handed her phone over to the very much bemused Valentinian so that she could open up a box. While one would expect her greed to turn her into a ravenous hellbeast intent on scourging the world of its cocoa, the manner in which she retrieved the chocolates from its container was surprisingly efficient, devoid of any wasted movement that did not contribute to the single-minded purpose of 'getting the choco'.
Indeed, it was almost at a record-breaking speed that a piece of milk chocolate found its way into Gratia's mother's mouth, and more rapidly followed, like sacrifices to a sacred fire.
"This is what I mean by dépendance," Valentinian mock-whispered conspiratorially.
"Les chocolats? Ils ont ses favoris.""Don't give him any wrong ideas, I'll save some for Gratia and Galla too!" protested his wife, who had paused in the consumption of the chocolates to continue writing the text to her younger daughter.
"And we rarely ever get a chance to consume chocolate, thus you cannot refer to it as an addiction in any form!"Jericho, for obvious reasons, hadn't wasted any thought on the financial situation of the Mindaro family before now. He looked to Severa Mindaro, a gentle, loving woman by anyone's standards, savoring each of her sweets, and thought of Gratia's attitude towards the cruise they'd taken together over the weekend.
His hand clenched reflexively, and Jer silently hoped that she wouldn't try to speak to him again until they reached Beacon. That the couple, for the first time, would just focus on themselves.
Including him within the moment would have killed it for certain.
MONDAY MORNING, BEACON ACADEMY
FAMILY DAY - KICKOFF
When they arrived at Beacon Academy, Jericho once again took up the brunt of the family's bags in his left hand, his glove bearing the weight of the family's Herculean purchase history without any complaint. Gripping as many bags as possible in his free hand, Jericho led the way out of the cab, imperceptibly arcing his back behind him in a stretch as he was freed from the cramped confines of the taxi. While the Mindaros 'oohed' and 'ahhed' behind him, Jericho surveyed the docks instinctively, searching for any threats (an old habit) and looking around at students reuniting with their happy families. The docks of Beacon were cluttered with civilian airliners or taxis dropping off Valian clans, but Jer noted with approval that an Atlesian assault ship had docked here too, no doubt carrying the weapons he had been unable to on his flight. He hoped it wouldn't stay long, for appearance's sake, but it felt somewhat nice to have a sendoff from home. He wondered who'd organized it.
Probably Bright; he had the most naval contacts. Or maybe Dad.
He would ask Professor Ozpin later on where his personal effects had been taken, when he was getting his briefing on what team he was to be attached to during his study abroad period. In the meantime, he would need to shepherd the Mindaro family into a reunion. Somehow, he doubted he would have much trouble mistaking Gratia - even from within a crowded academy like Beacon.
Bianca Nuit or the boy with the antenna head were also viable leads.
"Do you need any more help with the bags?" Jericho asked curtly, turning over his shoulder to look at the Mindaro parents. His right hand outstretched slightly, proffering the Atlesian knight's fingertips to the purchase-carrying effort helpfully.
"It's no trouble for me."From what he knew of the two adults he was escorting, it was highly likely they would want the arm space to squeeze the life from Gratia in an awkward, smothering hug.
That was a sight he wouldn't miss for the world.
I just need enough room in one hand to record it...
