Remnant's Calling

1x6: First Day Pt. 2

Jacket sat in the confines of Ozpin's office. The back of his palm lightly stained crimson with blood. The lingering feeling still pulsing through his hands. 

"Mr. Fritz, what happened?" 

"He was about to butcher another stu-"

Ozpin raised a hand, stopping Professor Goodwitch. "I'm very aware of what conspired, but there must be a reason as to it," he briefly explained.

Jacket stirred silently. "I saw... Someone. Someone who wasn't there," he hesitantly said.

"Like who?"

"A biker," he answered with an awkwardly strained chuckled.

"Judging by the way you acted, I assume you and them aren't on the best terms?" Ozpin proposed.

"He tried to kill me," Jacket told him.

"I see. Well, I apologize for a such a horrible to be reminded of."

The memory of Jacket knocking off Biker's skull replayed in his mind at the apology.

"You should go to your dorm and rest for the day. And, so this doesn't repeat in future, you'll be excused from further Combat classes from this point forward," Ozpin asserted.

Jacket nodded then stood up, turning and heading to the elevator. A thick silence choking his surroundings as they doors closed.

"Nice going, bud!" Congratulated his recorder in the stolen voice of Richard. "It's been what? A few days and you've almost murdered another human being. What, is that a new record?"

His silence held.

"Oh c'mon, don't be like that, pal!" Richard protested mockingly. "It's not like I forced you to hurt him. You did that on your very own."

Jacket's fists tightened at his side.

"Besides, you don't need any encouragement to kill," Richard reminded. "I think the Colonel said it well enough."

A deep sigh fell from Jacket, the only form of response to the enigmatic voice. The elevator opening soon after. He stepped out, stained hands in his pockets, and made his way to the dorms, his thoughts swirling in his head. The incident replaying like a book.

28 minutes earlier...

Jacket stood opposed to Cardin, his fist by his face in a standard boxing stance. While Cardin stood ready, his mace hanging loosely by his side. Tension slowly raising higher as everyone waited for the bell. When it finally rang, the two charged at each-other. Cardin swung preemptively as he drew near. Jacket noticed, dodged to the left, and pushed forward, throwing a jab at his face. It lands and Jacket follows up with another and another, laying an onslaught of punches to Cardin's ugly mug. Cardin takes the hits, swinging when the opportunity arises, but Jacket is faster. The Veteran blocks, using his arm to take the brunt of the blow, and continues his flurry of jabs. Cardin huffs and shoves him back, then swipes at his legs. He catches him, knocking Jacket on his ass, and goes to bring his mace down on his head. Jacket rolls out of the way and kicks him in the head. Cardin shrugs it off and goes again, swinging again and again at Jacket's face. Jacket catches his mace, wrenching it from his grasps, and gets to his feet. He puts his full weight into wielding the brute's weapon in a wide, but measured, attack. Cardin shields himself with vambraces and pauldrons, retaking his mace with hard haymaker to the nose. Jacket faintly stumbles before Cardin's mace slams into the side of his head. He flies back, skidding across the floor after he lands. Jacket's vision was hazy and his hearing was muffled. Although his aura took the attack head on, some of the damage still got through. While he recovered and rose to his feet, Cardin's toned down voice barely made its way through the ringing. 

"All that fighting and you drop from a single hit?" Cardin gloated, arms outstretched as if claiming the ring. "Man, looks like the ol' headmaster made a mistake letting you stay here."

Jacket held his head for a moment, getting a grip on his sense. Once he looked up, the vibrantly dressed man, a wearing bright neon blue biker helmet, stood with a cleaver in hand. 

"You're dead meat," he said, cold and indifferent.

Biker waisted time, charging at Jacket, cleaver ready. He caught Biker by the wrists and pushed back against him. Jacket reared back then gave Biker a vicious headbutt. He stumbled back from the hit before Jacket kicked him over, knocking the cleaver out of his grasp. The Hawaii Veteran quickly went for the cleaver and raised it above his head. In a split moment, Jacket slammed the cleaver onto the helmet, the plexiglass shattered with the stomach-churning sound of bone-cracking underling it. Biker taken aback by the hit, raising his hand up and touching his face, seeing the blood on his hand. Confusion stirred in Jacket for a moment before he buried it and went to swing again. But, a violet glow engulfed his arms, stopping him in his tracks. Static pulses through his vision. The man in front of him switches between the high school bully, and the psychotic leather jacket wearing maniac. Overwhelming surprise and shock envelope Jacket as he watches Cardin lay bleeding on the floor with a shattered nose with exposed bone. He turns and looks up at the board, seeing the little amount of aura left. Jacket lets the mace fall behind him and stands, backing away from the smug not-so pretty boy. The ring of the bell making him snap out of his stupor.

Present time...

Jacket laid in the oppressive silence of his dorm. His sneakers by his bedside, the tape recorder on his chest, and a rubber chicken mask on a nearby stand. A deep sigh resonates from him, various thoughts running through his head like they were sprinting on a treadmill. But it didn't matter how questions he had, it's not he'd get any answers to them. Not without some digging, anyway. So, what else to do than listen to everything on the recorder. Expand one's ability to communicate without your voice, especially when you aren't the talking type. And so, he sat and listened, letting the tape play.