Remnant's Calling

3x3: Sidewinder

Qrow eyed Fritz from the other side of the bullhead while the jacket-wearing recruit did his best to avoid eye contact. Despite Ozpin saying not to underestimate him, the kid looks like he works part-time for less than minimum wage. Qrow shook his head, drew a breath, slumped against the wall, pulled out his flask, and took a swig of whiskey. 

"So, how old are you, exactly?" Qrow asked. Breaking the tense air, he relaxed and tossed his flask to him. "Hopefully, old enough to drink." 

Fritz caught it, looking between it and Qrow, who nodded back. "26," he told him as he drank. His face reflexively scrunched up from the bitter and sour-tasting liquor. "Fuck," he muttered in disgust, "you drink this shit?" Fritz threw back after wiping his mouth. 

"Every day," Qrow replied, sliding the flask back into his vest while adjusting himself in his seat. "How did someone like you catch Ozzy's attention, hm? Surely you did something so spectacular that he just had to have you attend his prestigious school." 

"I punched people," Fritz answered. 

The old bird would've done a spit-take if he could. "What?" 

"Yeah, apparently; I guess doing something as basic as punching someone lands you in magic school," Fritz continued as he sat back, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "But what I did is nothing compared to what Ruby did." He smirked as he thought back to watching her completely dominate the thugs that outnumbered her. "You taught her to use that scythe of hers, right?" 

"I did. How did you-"

"I heard her tell Ozpin you trained her," he told him, then added with a smile, "although she had her mouth stuffed with cookies when she said it." 

"Did you get one?" Qrow asked, his left brow raised. Fritz shook his head. A smile slid across his face as he leaned back against the wall. "I assume Ozpin had a plate with him when he walked in, right?"

Fritz nodded and mimicked Qrow, then crossed his leg with the other. "Yup. About half of them were gone as soon as he set the thing down."

"Tsk, you're lucky you even got to see them," Qrow remarked, shifting his seat. "One time, Summer baked this huge batch, and by the time, I caught a whiff of them and went to check. The pan was nothing but crumbs."

Fritz rolled his eyes as a hardy chuckle escaped him. "Guess I am." His chest heaved as he reclined back and looked up at the ceiling. 

"ETA 5 Minutes until arrival!" Hollered the pilot. 

Qrow and Fritz looked from the cockpit to each other. The old bird smirked and mimicked him. "When we get down there, make sure to pull your weight, rookie." 

Fritz smiled and shook his head. "I will, Barnes," he murmured. 

"You say something, or am I just crazy?" 

"I think we both are," said Fritz after a hefty sigh. He rose to his feet and braced himself for the fight ahead. Rolling his shoulders and neck, cracking his knuckles, and anything else he needed to stretch. "If only a little bit." 

Qrow took his flask and drank from it. "You may be right about that," he said in acknowledgment. 

"Approaching landing sight!" Yelled the pilot. 

Fritz snapped to the cockpit, his brow furrowed. Then the sudden hiss of hydraulics and the roar of the wind made the hair on his neck stand on end. 

"What's the matter?" Qrow asked. He rose to his feet and walked toward the edge of the ramp. "Never done this before?" 

Fritz stood and approached; his apparent caution made the old bird chuckle. "No, no, I-I just... haven't done it while the plane was moving," Fritz shouted over the howling wind. 

"OH! Then, here, let me help with that!" 

The Hawaiian veteran eyed the sea of dark green racing beneath them. The beat of his heart pounded harder and harder. And then, without warning, something struck him in the ass. He fell forward, sliding down the ramp and toward the rushing sea. 

"See you at ground level, kid!"