The true horror is that you're all getting another chapter of:
Immortal
Chapter 20: Professor Peter Port's Problematic Path
Cinder Fall didn't expect to be woken up by an angry garden hose, but in retrospect, the blade attached to it would have been a far worse alarm clock. It wasn't, in fact, a garden hose as her sleep-addled mind had originally chalked the rubbery appendage with, but in fact the tentacle of her personal Seer, a Grimm that Cinder used to keep in contact with her patron and boss. Said boss was none other than Salem, Queen of the Grimm, and one half of a millennial old conspiracy and shadow war going on behind the scenes of Remnant. As she rubbed her face, frowning at the stinging that the Seer had left when it slapped her awake, the image of said patron began to focus on the orb like body of the Seer.
She did not look pleased.
"My lady," Cinder began, figuring that things would be best started with a bit of flattery. Unfortunately for her, Salem was having none of it.
"Cinder, you have thirty seconds to explain why I have lost contact with every Grimm save for your Seer in a 60 mile radius around Vale."
Cinder stared blankly. "I'm…what?"
"What the hell happened?!" Salem snapped, her voice taking on that quality that told Cinder that it was a damn good thing she was on the other side of the world.
Cinder, who'd finally managed to snap herself awake, instead adopted her usual faux 'femme fatale' smirk. "My lady, the loss of all Grimm around Vale is-"
Salem cut her off, eye twitching. "Cinder, if you try to tell me that the loss of so many Grimm is all 'part of your plan,' I will personally march over there yourself and tear your eyes out through your rectum. It's obvious you have no clue what's happening, and there is no 'keikaku' or whatever Mistralian nonsense you're spouting. Take those two orphans you've adopted and find out just what in Ozpin's impotent member is going on!"
Wincing at the harshness of Salem's tone, Cinder nodded. "Yes, my lady."
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Salem got in closer to the Seer on her end, enlarging her head on Cinder's end. "Speaking of Ozpin, have you met with him yet?"
Once again, a haughty smile found itself on Cinder's face. "Indeed. The old fool doesn't even suspect a-"
Salem seemingly ignored her, and instead she got even closer. "Did…did he say anything about me? Did you get any photos? Does he have another woman? I bet he has, the 45th timing bastard! Damn you Ozpin! Do I have to kill her too?!"
"Um, Lady Salem-" began Cinder, her smirk deflating into an expression of depressed resignation.
"'Til Death do us part, Ozpin! And neither of us is dead! No, your host's death doesn't count!!" Salem continued to rant, hands balled up into fists as she stepped back from the Seer and began to pace back and forth. Cinder sighed and tapped the Seer, causing it to dispel the image from its form. If she allowed it, Salem would be ranting and raving about Ozpin for hours, and Cinder was awfully curious. Every Grimm in 60 miles? That was concerning news indeed; the Grimm were a useful tool, and if something managed to take them out that easily, it bode ill news for Cinder's schemes. She sighed and ran a hand down her face. She had her work cut out for her.
It was time to put Mercury and Emerald to work. Still, she could console herself in the knowledge that despite having Salem yell at her like that, it was all for the best. After all, it was all part of her plan. Somehow.
It was concerning, that he was getting used to waking up with a hangover in a strange new place. This time, unfortunately, he did not find himself half-cuffed to the bedframe of a very eager, pliable, and knowledgeable midget whose skills in bed were equal or perhaps even greater than her skills with a blade. No, as Jaune Arc awoke, his mouth feeling dry and like he'd been gargling sandpaper martinis, he glanced around to discover that his current locale was in the middle of the woods. Which woods specifically, he wasn't sure, but if he had to guess he'd assume the Emerald Forest. If that were the case, there were far worse places to wake up in. He assumed his drunken brain had tried to make his way back to Beacon, got sidetracked, and ended up in Beacon's backyard. All in all, things could have been much, much worse. Slowly, he extricated himself from the bush that he'd decided to apparently use as a bed, and stretched, wincing as he heard his body crack and pop in places that didn't sound pleasant to do so in.
He glanced down at himself, noticing his state of dress; he was still in a rather cheap looking tuxedo that was ripped and torn in places, rent as though torn open by claw or fang. An experimental and regrettable sniff told him he smelled to high heaven too; of booze, vomit, and Fire Dust of all things. Blue eyes scanned his surroundings and found much to his mounting surprise, that the area he'd woken up in looked like it'd been through the ringer just as much as he had; blackened scorched craters in the forest floor, multiple trees literally snapped in half, and blade marks in many others.
"...the fuck?" Jaune bemused out loud.
There was a sound of crunching, as though something were moving in the underbrush near his own, and Jaune rapidly glanced around for Crocea Mors, expecting a Grimm that had wandered afield to try and make him a snack. Instead of the black fur, white bone, and red markings of the Grimm though, Jaune found himself watching the burgundy and brown ensemble of one Professor Peter Port removing himself from the bush, stretching like he'd woken up from a very pleasant sleep. "Ah, Mr. Arc! Good morning! Nothing like a night on the town, and a nice nap in the forest, wouldn't you say?"
Jaune blinked, expression blank. "What…exactly happened, last night?" Even if he cared about getting into trouble for being caught drunk by a teacher, he was so out of it that it wouldn't have phased him either way.
Port laughed, belly jiggling as he chortled at Jaune's statement as though he were sharing in some rather uproarious joke, rather than asking about his lack of memories from inebriation. "Don't tell me you can't remember! You were only mildly tipsy, if I recall!"
Jaune's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Tipsy?" He asked incredulously. He was pretty certain that after martini number 14, he was well past tipsy, and was currently vacationing in the foothills of 'stinking blackout drunk.'
"Indeed!" boomed the jovial professor, who didn't seem to care too much that one of his students had been six sheets to the wind the evening prior. "How else could you have kept up with me during our Grimm hunting contest! A pity Ms. Xiao Long and Ms. Valkyrie couldn't keep up with us, but thankfully Ms. Rose was helpful in bringing the two back to Beacon!"
Jaune continued to stare narrow eyed in Port's direction as his mind attempted, and failed, to recall anything of the night prior. "Grimm hunting contest?" He repeated.
"Correct!!" Port thundered again, the sheer volume of his voice startling a flock of birds and causing them to burst from the treetops. "It's been ages since anyone was able to keep up with me! Of course, I won, but that was only because of the Goliaths!"
With an expression not too dissimilar to a lizard staring blankly and licking its own eye, Jaune slowly managed to speak. "Goliaths?" He emphasized the plural, in disbelief. Nevermores and Deathstalkers, large though they could get, was one thing. A Goliath was a skyscraper of bone, muscle, and rage, and not even Jaune could have hoped to take one down. Well, not without countless deaths and an absurd amount of artillery.
Port leaned over, his large frame casting a shadow over Jaune's half-prone form. "Are you okay, Mr. Arc? You did hit your head something fierce earlier, but exposed brain matter aside, it shouldn't have thrown you for that much of a loop! You keep repeating everything I say!"
Jaune shook his head, trying to ignore the phrase, 'exposed brain matter aside.' "I…sorry, not a morning person." It was true, if not specifically the reason for his confused and increasingly concerned behavior.
Port nodded sagely, stroking his mustache with a couple of fingers as his expression turned thoughtful. "Hmm, I can understand. Perhaps a cup of coffee would do the both of us well!" Before Jaune could react, or even explain anything, the larger man swiftly picked Jaune up over his shoulder with almost humiliating ease.
"Wha- hey!" Jaune began to protest at being treated like laundry. Sadly, it was the last thing he was able to get out before Port's legs tensed up, and he leaped into the air, the sheer force driving the breath from Jaune's lungs, as well as leaving him utterly flabbergasted. What was with Port's nightmarish strength? More importantly, did that mean that all of his tales in class were true?
If he survived the morning, Jaune decided he was going to pay a lot more attention in Port's class from now on…
"...And then Jauney tossed a kitchen sink at the Goliath! At least I think it was one, it was kind of hard to tell what it was once it was airborne. Anyway, doesn't matter 'cause Professor Port shot it out of the air before it could hit, which is totally cheating!"
Nora Valkyrie was enjoying her breakfast and regaling team RWBY and JNPR (minus Ruby, Yang, and Jaune) about the events of the previous evening. Ren looked disbelieving, along with Weiss who looked annoyed at what she assumed was the tallest of tales. "This is absurd!" Snapped the Schnee heiress. "I asked you what happened the previous evening and where Jaune is, not whatever fanciful tale you concocted after a sugar high!" She turned to Yang. "Maybe you're cognizant enough to explain what happened?"
Yang didn't respond. In fact, no sooner had the words left Weiss' lips did she realize that her teammate was rocking back and forth, muttering to herself with a shell shocked expression. "...sink…Goliaths…rubber cement…colander…so many dead…"
Weiss stared for a few moments, then turned to Ruby as though nothing happened. "Please tell me at least you're still sane enough to explain what happened?"
Ruby stared wordlessly back at Weiss, biting her lip with a nervous expression. She glanced back to Nora, then to her seemingly traumatized sister, before back at Yang, and helplessly shrugged. "I…I'm sorry, but it's all true."
Weiss shook her head as her expression turned from haughty and disbelieving to more desperate. "No, no, no, no! That can't be!" She swung her gaze in Yang's direction once more, and pointed as though in accusation. "And you stop that! Mental breakdowns are my thing!"
Perhaps it was the sheer ridiculousness of Weiss' statement, or perhaps Yang simply managed to wrestle down the trauma of whatever had occurred the previous evening, but her rocking stopped, and she glared back at Weiss. "You didn't have to spend a night with drunken Jaune and…and…" Yang shivered. "...Professor Port."
A silence passed over the table. A deeper than normal silence which confused most seated, until it was realized that the extra silence came from the lack of buzzing from Blake's direction. Everyone else turned, seeing an expression of disgust across Blake's face. "Well, now I'm not horny anymore. Thanks, Yang."
Yang's glare deepened. "Not like that!"
"Oh…" more silence, followed promptly by a faint bzzzzzz. Yang's face met the table in response.
Ren spoke up at last, doing his best to ignore the prior exchange. "So it's true? Jaune ended up getting roped into a 'Grimm Hunting Competition,' by Professor Port?" By the tone of his voice, even Ren seemed to be refusing to believe the incredibly tall tale from Nora, who was sounding very much like she was simply reciting Port's usual lessons.
Nora started to respond, perhaps in protest, but before a single syllable could be uttered, the ceiling of the cafeteria exploded in part. The reason became quite clear, quite quickly when none other than the hefty professor himself landed upon their table with a clatter. Blake, Yang, Weiss, and Ren recoiled, Pyrrha frowned at the sudden interruption to her 'sacred offering,' (read: breakfast), and both Nora and Ruby stared in awe. It became quickly apparent that the Professor wasn't alone, for tucked into his arm like a piece of luggage was one Jaune Arc, looking like he'd been riding in an aircraft without a roof. "Jaune?" Tentatively asked Pyrrha, staring at Jaune in concern.
"No thank you, I couldn't eat another bite…" Jaune rambled, clearly loopy from the journey to Beacon.
"Ah, Ms. Nikos!" Boomed Professor Port, "I'm simply borrowing your leader for the morning for a spot of coffee and some breakfast! I must say it was quite the rousing contest we had! I'm quite proud of the youth of today!"
"W-wait," Weiss began, her pale skin somehow managing to acquire a shade paler than usual, "You're telling me that it…it actually was all true?"
Perhaps Weiss was about to suffer a nervous breakdown, but if she was, it was interrupted by the musical chime that denoted an announcement from the Headmaster's Office. "This is Headmaster Ozpin speaking; I require the presence of one Jaune Arc, and one Professor Peter Port immediately. That is all." Seven heads all turned up at Jaune and Port, the former still trying to recover his wits to notice Ozpin's rather clipped tones. As for Port, he looked nonplussed, and aside from wriggling his mustache, didn't even appear as though he registered his Boss's words.
"Well, bully," Port rumbled, "It appears as though breakfast will have to wait. Duty calls! Come, young Arc! I shall take us to Headmaster Ozpin's office in a jiffy!"
Jaune, who'd managed to acquire some minor lucidity in that space, shook his head vehemently as terror dawned in his eyes. "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait-" he quickly shouted. It was all for naught. Port tensed his legs, Jaune still tucked under one arm, and gave a mighty leap into the air, sailing back through the opening in the ceiling he'd made earlier, and worse still, his jump shattered the table on which he stood. The force of the leap causes everyone's breakfasts to go flying; some directly into the face of those eating it, such as Pyrrha, and others simply flew into the air. One such meal found itself flying through the air and directly onto the head of one Cardin Winchester.
"HEY! WHO THE HELL THREW THAT?! YOUR MOM'S A WHORE!" He shouted angrily, hair dripping with scrambled eggs and half eaten sausage.
"YEAH, AND?!" shouted Yang, standing up and slamming her fists together.
"What?!" Shouted Ruby, looking hurt.
Yang paused. "What- no, Ruby, other mom."
"Oh, you mean the cum-catch-"
"Yes her! Now are we gonna food fight or what?!"
"Firstly," Ozpin murmured frostily over the rim of his mug, "Port, how many times have I told you to use the elevator like a normal human being?"
The hefty professor at least had the common decency to look chagrined. He was standing before Ozpin's desk at parade rest, with a hole in the wall roughly him-shaped a few feet behind. Sitting next to him, looking the worse for wear was Jaune, who looked like he would have thrown up if his stomach had anything left to do so with. "Well, you did request us immediately."
"I didn't mean that literally, Port. It means 'as soon as humanly possible.'"
"Exactly!" He boomed, grinning ear to ear.
Ozpin's hand met his own face with a slap. "I guess," he slurred around the offending appendage, "this is as good a time as any to bring up why I called the two of you up here. Would you kindly like to explain why we've got reports of a distinct lack of Grimm around Vale?"
Port laughed again. "Of course! We had a rousing good time in competition! A shame we ran out, but in the end, I believe I proved the victor?"
Ozpin's expression darkened. "Peter?"
"Yes, Headmaster"
"You do realize what this means, right?" Ozpin's tone was foreboding.
"Hang on, hang on-" Jaune started, "Disregarding the fact that somehow I managed to help Professor Port clear out every Grimm in a radius of Vale, which I still refuse to believe I had part in, how exactly is this a bad thing?"
"Because, Mr. Arc," began Ozpin, rounding on Jaune as he gripped his mug with a white knuckles grip, "we are given our budget by the Council."
"...and?"
"A Council full of non-combatants that make their monetary policies based on how safe they're feeling that particular day."
"...not following."
Ozpin sighed. "A Council that tends to budget much more money to Beacon when they're feeling like they're going to be overrun at any time!"
Jaune blinked. "Hang on," he began, "You run a school for Huntsmen, specifically to hunt Grimm, and you purposefully leave Grimm prowling the walls so the Council will budget more money towards the school?" He paused, annoyance slowly dawning over his face. "Hang on, didn't you say we only had enough money in the school budget for a single padlock to protect your drinks?! What is the rest of the money being put towards?!"
Ozpin grumbled and took a sip of his mug. After a pregnant silence, he spoke. "Ammo, energy costs, weapon materials, building repair, latest tech with scrolls, the payment of the faculty-"
Jaune sighed. "Alright, alright, you made your point. Still, why am I being called up here? I'm good, but not, 'clear out the entire Grimm populace within 60 miles,' good."
Ozpin gestured behind him, as a screen lowered down from the ceiling above, and an unseen projector began to play upon it. It was both Jaune and Port, and the recording could barely keep up with them. They were only recognizable when the two stopped moving, which wasn't very often. Surrounding them was a sea of only blackness, with only dots of white and the occasional flash of red to break it up. At first, Jaune assumed that it was space, and was about ready to accuse Ozpin of having doctored the video, perhaps as a joke.
That's when it hit him. It wasn't space. It was a mass of Grimm surrounding the two. An impossible situation for any Huntsman, no matter how skilled. And they were winning.
Sip. "You were saying?"
Death Count: 2,063
A/N: Guess who's back, back, back, back again? That's right, Slim Shady.
Old man jokes aside, this chapter was brought to you by pain, and a mushroom, same one as before. In other news, I'm actually back-back. Like, expect to see more updates in the future for other stories. Being as that may, there will be some changes, such as removed stories and the like, as well as potential commissioned stories. Check my profile page for details. And now, a word from our sponsor:
M/N: How's it going? It's ya mushroom friend, Lives2DieAgain, back at it again with another chapter. All it cost me was trauma. Lots of trauma. Horror games streamed for the entertainment of, but not limited to, one laughing fellow. I don't do well with horror anything; games, movies, you name it. Fortunately, I did the thing and managed to wrangle another chapter out of my buddy here. Might even get another one in the future, but I won't push my luck on it.