So it is done: Dissimilarities (Patreon)

Finding a suitable gift for Neo was easy enough – any sweets would do, though she greatly preferred ice cream. She would also be happy with clothes, jewelry, magazines, gadgets and many other things that were difficult to find in the gift shop.

Choosing gifts for Cinder was much more difficult.

No, Jonathan had no doubt that Cinder would accept any gift he gives with gratitude, he puts his feet down on giving her any of his second hand clothes though, no matter how many times she asks. Any gifts Jonathan bought for her would be the ‘perfect’ one – and she would either use it all the time or place it prominently in her room. But, as Jonathan had noticed, the only ones that brought her real joy were books. And finding a book that Cinder hadn't already read, and that would suit her tastes, was problematic.

As problematic as finding something like ‘Traditional Poisons of Vacuo’ in a souvenir shop. Why the owner would display it, is easily explained by the bestseller plaque next to it. And why a book about poisons was a bestseller can be easily explained as it’s Vacuo.

So, discounting his strange finds, Jonathan spent all his time browsing the racks and chatting with Scarlett, almost ceasing to pay attention to the itching thoughts inside him.

Almost.

Paying for his purchases, and picking up the souvenirs he'd bought for his family, Jonathan headed off back to his hotel, coincidentally the same one as Scarlett’s, almost oblivious to the awareness that clung to his mind like a tick.

Almost.

He was almost used to not offering his help to old people or women trying to carry bulky and heavy purchases. His status was partly to blame, but his condition was much more to blame. If he had offered to help the random passersby – his swaying figure, unable to walk even a dozen steps properly, would have just made the whole situation awkward. Fighting the  urge to offer his help, only for Scarlett to do it instead, almost distracted him from his thoughts.

Almost.

Upon reaching the hotel, Jonathan separated ways with Scarlett, her going to hit the bed now that the sun was not so bright and hot that sleep was impossible. Jonathan was tactful enough not to ask Scarlett why she was so tired this early. Scarlett’s exuberant parting and the mystery was almost enough to distract Jonathan.

Almost, almost, almost – Jonathan, how much longer? Almost lost, almost dead, almost King – how long are we going to stomp dither on 'almost'?

When Scarlett disappeared behind the hotel stairs, Jonathan was left alone with himself again. With nothing more to distract him, almost immediately, the corners of his lips slowly began to lower, and his gaze, as if beckoned by someone else's hand, strayed into the distance.

No one is arguing that each case is unique and should be evaluated separately, but don't you think it should at least be evaluated? You've made so many, so many decisions – bad decisions, Jonathan. Bad, but they’re the right ones, aren’t they?

Jonathan wanted a drink – but his body just couldn't process alcohol properly now, even one mug of beer would prove disastrous.

So, barring any other distraction, all Jonathan could do was turn around and slowly head back to the city, watching as it gradually began to wake up from its slumber. It was as if the previous ghost town were a mirage, as people seemed to appear from under the sand and the narrow, crooked streets. The streets were filling up with life.

Passers-by appear, and as fitting for Vacuo, they were as unique as they come, if in appearance at least.

One is with a face disfigured by scars, a gun on his belt to discourage any desire to bicker with the walker.

Another, a figure wrapped in rags whose face was completely covered, their hair tucked under a hood and their eyes covered with dark glasses.

Another appeared to be a merchant coming out from the many caravans that Jonathan saw lining the outer walls of the city. Why did he stay with the caravan? Was it in case of a sandstorm? Or was he a criminal boss from Mistral, hiding from his past acquaintances?

Then there was a faunus wandering about his business, one horn sticking out from under a mop of black unkempt hair, a large wooden box in his hands, ripped with muscles created by years of hard work. Maybe the box he was carrying contained blocks of yogurt for sale, or maybe a small arsenal of contraband… Really, the people of Vacuo were as diverse as they came.

Not like Glenn at all. Not your city. Not your people. Not your responsibility.

It was strange, in Glenn, to even think that a man wrapped in rags, none of whose features could be distinguished, would go further than the nearest police post, where they would at least inquire about his ID.

A thug with a gun even outside his holster? Even passing Hunters had a hard time being spotted in such a state.

And it was foolish to even suggest that a faunus lugging crates on Main Street of Glenn could be smuggling contraband. Sure, there might still be clandestine dealers somewhere, criminality was present even in the most perfect of states. But in Glenn, at the mere hint of such a thing, one should expect a chat with law enforcement in the next few minutes. And, if by chance they were indeed engaging in criminal activities? Well, depending on the severity, one more missing person in the wilds is nothing that the people of Glenn need to worry about.

This is not our life.

Vacuo was not Glenn, and Glenn was not Vacuo. Simple as that.

So what? We let them die just like that? Stating the obvious, does not make a plan of action.

Jonathan continued walking along the streets, gradually noticing more and more people appearing as the people of Vacuo greeted another day. The narrow streets were becoming more and more crowded, with the various businesses beginning to open, and somewhere, yawning workers and stubborn children who did not want to go to school began to appear.

Jonathan, looking at these activities, smiled a little through the rags pulled over his face before moving his gaze a little further.

“Sun!” A grown man's voice attracted Jonathan's gaze on a Faunus, whose two large monkey ears could be seen on the sides of his head. “If you don't go to school, I swear you won't get any more sweets until you turn into an adult, and you can buy it yourself!”

“If I don't get any sweets!" His gaze then went to the Faunus child, apparently the aforementioned Sun, who was resisting with all his might the attempt to send him to school by clinging to the nearest lamp post with his long monkey tail. “I will not go to school until I am an adult!”

Jonathan only smirked at this picture before continuing on his way, looking out over the city, which was throwing off its morning drowsiness.

A car drove ahead, causing some passerby, who had hoped to get through the street in time, to jump aside and launch into a tirade of profanities.

Jonathan's ears picked up music, and he had to turn his head to find its source. It was coming from the open window of a low, three-story building. It probably sounded more like rock? The words were hard to make out because of the poor quality of the speaker, though apparently the words meant little in this case, the point of the song seemingly about the incoherent screaming and loud instruments.

“Children… Really, they've been keeping up that racket all morning.” A man's voice nearby made Jonathan turn around, but all he could see was the receding figure of a man with a white cloak over his shoulders and red hair adorned with a bowler hat. The hat, something that Jonathan had rarely seen in Remnant.

The fact that the man was also leaning on a cane as he walked made Jonathan smirk a little more. Though from his own experience, Jonathan could tell that the man didn't actually need a cane to walk – his gait to smooth for him to actually need a cane to walk. Rather, it seems that the man was using the cane as an accessory instead.

“Are you lost?" A voice, deep and low, coming from behind him, made Jonathan realize, after only a moment, that his surroundings were completely covered by a huge shadow, as if from an approaching mountain.

Turning around, Jonathan was able to fully confirm his earlier conclusion. The speaker appeared to be a huge man of such proportions that he seemed to be able to peer through the second story windows as he walked. With the musculature of his body, not at all concealed by his light T-shirt and overcoat, left no doubt at all that anyone would be able to get away in one piece if one collided with him.

“Can I help you?” The man himself, although he was looking at Jonathan with a straight face, asked him if he needed any help… Why?

“No, thank you.”, Jonathan shook his head before stepping aside to let the huge man pass.

The man, getting his hint, stepped forward, finding himself a couple of meters away from Jonathan in a single step.

“Hazel, how many times do I have to tell you not to wander around!?” A young girl's voice behind Jonathan's back, seemingly addressing the giant, caused Jonathan’s brow to raise, however. “We have a big batch!”

“Gretchen, I'm sorry!” Although, when the huge man, who reminded him of a bear, suddenly runs up to the women, voice almost pleading, Jonathan can not help but laugh a little. “My alarm clock broke, I'll do it now…”

Jonathan took another step forward, then…

Which one do you think will die?

Then Jonathan froze in the middle of the second step.

The children? Children often don't even die from Grimm you know – they would run away, their parents acting as a meat shield to allow them to escape. But then for a child with no experience, the chances for survival are oh so low. They’ll try to take shelter in a basement somewhere – one that could easily collapse…

Jonathan took a step forward.

The fancy man with the cane? Do you think he has the strength to run away from the approaching horde?

And another.

The big man will stand his ground to the last, that's true. He'll block the way for Gretchen and fight back with the fury of a lion – but then he would also fall to the tide of Grimm, Gretchen following soon after him…

Jonathan stopped walking, his feet heavy like lead. Vexed, Jonathan looked up at the sky, as if he could find some manner of answer to his quandary there.

The sun was slowly rising in the sky over Vacuo, illuminating the city.

A city completely foreign to him…

A city where people also lived.

When Jonathan visited Vacuo with his daughters in the past, he got so badly sunburned that he had to peel off burnt skin flakes for months afterwards.

He also got so badly food poisoned that he had to lay at home for three days.

Not to mention the time he was robbed at the bazaar. It was a good thing Cinder had broken the robber's hands and got his stuff back…

Yes, Vacuo is hell on earth. But is it demons that live in that hell?

Jonathan slipped his hand under his cloak – pulling out his scroll.

8:00

November 5 (Mon)

1738

Jonathan's scroll dimly gleamed, the date on time on the screen, the bright sun interfering with his reading, so Jonathan had to cover it with his hand to read the time and date in the shadows.

Huh, it’s already eight o’clock.

Jonathan couldn't help himself and chuckled at the surprise of the discovery.

And there's eight! Isn't that a wonderful discovery, haha?!

Jonathan tucked the scroll into his pocket and then looked again at the awakening city.

You knew that this would happen, didn't you?

Jonathan nodded to himself.

Sure thing.

So let's go. There is not much time left. The horde is coming, and we have much to do.

So it is done.

***

Jonathan's appearance at Raven's domicile was usually accompanied, first, by the announcement that he would be arriving in a few minutes. So Raven had time to kick everyone who wasn't supposed to be present at their meeting out of her tent. Followed by his appearance out of nowhere immediately in the middle of Branwen's tent.

Raven was annoyed and perhaps even a little frightened by this feat. Unlike her own teleportation, where her portals manifested like a shimmering rip in space – Jonathan’s didn't leave any trace. He seemingly just appears wherever he wants instantly, without a word or sound. The only thing that marks his presence, the sound of his cane tapping as he takes a step, appearing behind your back, or maybe even right in front of your eyes, as if he had always been there.

This time, however, there was no announcement heralding his appearance.

In an instant, Raven suddenly realized that Jonathan was standing in front of her, already looking around for a suitable seat. She could only silently nod her head towards a pair of chairs in front of the most decent wooden table she could find, walking towards the chair, all the while trying her best to calm her beating heart. If Jonathan had wanted her dead, she wouldn’t know it before it had happened. If she didn’t know that Jonathan was a bleeding heart, too kind to threaten people, she would think that he was doing this on purpose.

Jonathan, ignorant of the thoughts racing in Raven’s head on the other hand, simply took a few calm steps and sat down, getting in front of Raven's face before looking at her carefully.

Raven knew instantly from Jonathan's expression that the information she wished to give him – about Qrow, for example, could wait.

Jonathan was planning something.

“I need the precise information on the approaching Grimm horde.” Jonathan nodded to Raven, his order continuing on. “Number, location, type, direction of movement. Basically, everything.”

A moment later Raven, reeling from the shock of Jonathan’s order, without saying anything in response, rose from her seat, heading towards the standing rack in her tent.

When she was just the head of a gang of bandits, Raven Branwen rarely bothered making big plans, drawing maps, keeping surveillance – no, keeping a band of bandits in line and safe were much easier in that regard.

Of course, no cities or even villages could exist without keeping strict reconnaissance over the wild lands outside their walls. But usually for a bandit clan, they would be content with simple information; like if there’s Grimm or lots of Grimm, a sentry here and there, their report something that could be contained in a short verbal accounting before another trek across the wild lands or before an attack on another village.

There were, however, nuances to becoming a full-fledged mercenary army.

And Raven Branwen was not eager to take notes in the margins of journals or draw arrows on maps, but unlike many others, she had done well at Beacon.

And she had her orders.

So after only a couple of moments she returned to the desk, and without further ado, placed several rolled-up maps from its cylinders in front of Jonathan, followed by a journal, a record of surveillance.

What she had, in fact, been studying all this time before Jonathan had arrived.

Jonathan, of course, did not receive the same education as she did, so some of the notes were incomprehensible to him – but time and his position did force him to acquire at least some skill in reading reports. If nothing else, the broad lines.

So, as read the journal, he also unfolded the map, stared intently at the various pencil markings, comparing them to the observation notebook, scrutinizing the information in question with a keen eye.

Raven, after waiting a few seconds, decided to speak up. "Have you met Summer?”

“Hmm?” Jonathan looked up, still deep in thought and seemingly somewhat obsessed with something Raven could not tell what, but she could guess. It seems that Jonathan had decided to attack the super horde, there was no other way to interpret his decision to ask for the information he’s asking. Of course, it’s very possible that this is just a power move, making Raven do useless work, only to not use it for anything, but Jonathan wouldn’t do that.

"Who?” Jonathan asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Summer Rose, the most powerful Hunter in the Ozpin’s service," Raven repeated before she added. "The silver-eyed one. You've met her?”

“No, I haven't…” Jonathan started to answer before he lost his train of thought when a look of surprise appeared on his face. “Wait, silver-eyed?”

Raven only nodded, frowning inwardly. She had no way of knowing what Jonathan was thinking right now.

“With… shoulder-length dark hair with red highlights?” Jonathan suddenly asked Raven. “Wields a sword?”

“Yes.” Raven didn't like playing twenty questions, but she did end up answering him directly.

“She also usually wears a cream-colored cloak.” After her answers, Jonathan was silent for a second, before shortly after, Raven was able to watch a curious picture as one emotion after another flashed across his face; confusion, surprise, embarrassment, and finally a resigned acceptance.

“I…” At the end of the strange display, Jonathan finally answered her question. “ I did meet her, but… I didn't communicate with ‘Summer’ per se. I actually didn't… recognize her.”

Hearing those words, Raven allowed herself a slight smirk on her face.

Didn't recognize Summer? There were surprisingly few people in the world with silver eyes, and even fewer who were in Ozpin's service and whose features and weapons would be worth memorizing for anyone who regularly interacted with Ozpin. The number in question was one, but then again, who knows with that old man.

It was surprising to find that Jonathan Goodman, one of Remnant's most influential and powerful – no exaggeration there – man and, it seemed to Raven, Ozpin's closest and most significant ally, were so silly as to not recognize Summer Rose.

Given that Raven actually knew Summer pretty well, Raven knew pretty well that Summer sucked at keeping her identity secret. Unable to stop talking about her children, her dreams, her home in Patch, to anyone that would listen. For all Raven knows, her ‘disguise’ probably consists of pulling a cloak over her face, the same one she walked around with all the time even. And then covering her lower face with some kind of rag, not even thinking of hiding the color of her eyes.

“Astonishing keenness of perception there.” Raven understood the boundaries and understood that Jonathan could finish her off in her sleep if necessary – not that Jonathan would need her to be sleeping to finish the job. But she also understood that sarcastic remarks were still forgivable for her – especially in the current circumstances.

Jonathan, however, not even minding the lip one bit, let the remark pass his ears and lowered his gaze, covering his face with his palm out of embarrassment.

Not that Raven knew Jonathan that well, but it wasn't hard to guess what thoughts were running through his mind right now.

She waited a few seconds, refraining from making a second remark, not wanting to test her limits. "So what about the horde?”

“Horde?” Jonathan, distracted from speculating about his own attentiveness – or rather, his lack of it, sighed, focusing back on the important business. “Yes, anyway, the horde…”

After that brief respite, Jonathan immersed himself in reading the maps, checking the journal from time to time, causing Raven to snicker and turn away from the busy Jonathan.

There was little of interest in watching someone read maps and plan something, Raven definitely wasn't planning on keeping watch on Jonathan lest he steal something expensive from her tent.

Firstly, she didn't have many things that were irreplaceable or expensive, especially in this tent.

Secondly – Jonathan had certainly not shown any propensity for kleptomania. If he did steal anything, it was in quantities beginning with a laden dust train or something ridiculous.

And thirdly, Jonathan was the boss of her boss. Even if he needed something from Raven, didn't need to bother stealing it, he could just take it, and Raven could hardly do anything about it.

However, when Raven was planning to leave Jonathan to his planning, and maybe starting on her day-drinking, the other thing that allowed her to recover her mood after meeting with Qrow, only slightly worse than breaking the head of some unruly subordinate – Jonathan's voice made her stop, "Raven… I need you to clarify something.”

Raven, cursing her luck, clearly spoiled by Qrow’s slightly earlier presence in her tent, was forced to stop and turn around to Jonathan. “About what exactly?”

“It appears that until the horde attacks, converging on one place,” Jonathan paused, glancing up at Raven. “The Grimm spread out about eight miles?”

“What?" Raven questioned the strange unit, making Jonathan bite his tongue, "I mean, thirteen kilometers long… Right?”

Raven nodded – the hordes making up a Super-horde didn't travel on one big, dense clump of Grimm. No, instead they spread out over many kilometers in area, some more, some less, they only gathered in a single large group before attacking. It seems that the rudimentary knowledge or tactics of the most powerful and old Grimm leading the hordes had, more than once, come as a nasty surprise to young Hunters. Or to entire settlements too easily eliminated by the chief threat to humanity.

“Aha, I see," Jonathan nodded to himself, "In that case, if we suppose, that for some reason, suddenly most of the horde ceases to exist?”

After such a remark, it was more likely for Raven to cast a glance at the speaker like they were either crazy or an idiot. A look which would simultaneously express her reluctance to respond to such a bad joke and her irritation at being pestered with completely unrealistic tales for incomprehensible purposes.

However, if the conversation was with the King of Glenn himself, one of the three existing mages of Remnant – Raven needed to humor it anyway.

“If that were to happen, the scattered remnants would just disperse in large clumps, gathering more and more Grimm, the Super-horde reappearing.”

“Do you have the strength to hold the remnants together, so they don't scatter in different directions?” Jonathan asked. “You don't have to kill them, though that would be preferable – but at least hold them in one place?”

Hearing that question, Raven exhaled loudly before still thinking about it, not hiding the irritation on her face.

When the Branwen clan existed solely as an itinerant band of bandits – though they were Remnant's strongest – it was foolish to even suggest that they could handle a horde of Grimm. No, perhaps they could handle a small horde, especially given Raven's abilities, but the damage they would suffer in such an encounter would be completely unacceptable to the clan’s continued survival.

Now, having become mercenaries instead?

Considering that heavy weapons exist, and that more than a fair amount of them had come into their possession through certain deals, that question was a bit more complicated.

In this case, the bigger problem was the fact that the small mercenary unit was still, in fact, only a squad strong. Right now, there were about five hundred of them in Vacuo – a huge number for a bandit gang, but quite insignificant for a full-fledged operation against a Grimm horde, never mind a Super-horde.

“We can hold them… " Raven answered, proud of her clan’s strength, before grudgingly adding something more. "Only in parts, however, blocking some directions where the Grimm could escape. Blocking them on all sides over that large of an area is definitely impossible.”

“Hmm," Jonathan thought for a moment, "In that case, hmm… The army…”

Jonathan was distracted by planning again before another hunch ran through his mind and he looked at Raven again, she didn't think that it meant anything good. “How strong is Summer?”

Hearing the question, Raven was forced to make a slight crease on her face, but still chose an honest answer rather than one that would be pleasing to her ears. "Very.”

As a Hunter, Raven knew few who were her equals, and even fewer who would surpass her.

Unfortunately, to her pride at least, Summer belonged to the latter group.

With her sword, Summer was more dangerous than even Raven – and more than one man had paid with broken arms or legs, taking the short girl as an easy target.

Summer could be made to apologize with tears in her eyes for breaking a vase, but as soon as someone drew a knife – Summer could stick that knife into her opponent in places where the sun doesn’t shine.

What was particularly ironic was that of the entire STRQ team, it was Summer who came closest to the definition of a ‘battle maniac’ or a ‘berserker’. However, Raven suspected that the reason for this was Summer's semblance, and not because she was particularly bloodthirsty.

Either way – after she sticks that knife somewhere unpleasant, she would start dragging that poor bastard who had tried to attack her to the hospital herself – but during the fight? Summer didn't know when to stop, and that…

That was a little scary.

But anyway, there was an upside to that approach – not only did Summer love to fight, she knew how to fight. In fact, she was very good at it.

And that was just her skills with weapons – given her silver eyes, it wasn't too crazy to assume that she could take apart even a very large horde on her lonesome.

The reasons why Ozpin had chosen Summer as his strongest figure were quite obvious.

But a super-horde meant a very different kind of game.

“Hmm, so if I…“Jonathan's voice slowly became quieter, him talking more to develop his ideas rather than for Raven to hear. After a while he stopped talking entirely, before suddenly, he looked at Raven and nodded to himself. "Get your boys ready. I have a very good idea…”

Raven has a very bad feeling about this.

***

After some struggling, turning and turning to find a comfortable spot to sleep, Summer eventually fell asleep. But like a Hunter on a mission, she was prepared for this sort of thing, even though the uncomfortable sleep, she was awake five or six hours later – she could sleep it off at home.

Besides, it wasn't as hot and stuffy back home, it would definitely be more refreshing to sleep there. And, if Yang didn't wake her, so Summer could brush her hair, then all conditions would be clear for her to have a satisfying sleep!

So, yawning desperately, Summer opened her eyes, rising from her sweat-soaked bed before glancing up at the curtained windows. One bright lance of the Vacuo sun seemed to shine through even through them, causing Summer, muttering to herself, to rise from her seat before heading for the shower, quickly refreshing herself with a shower and a fresh change of clothes. In just a dozen minutes being, if not in shape, ready to function.

Luckily, Qrow had taken on the unpleasant duty of the day's patrol, allowing Summer to get a little sleep. Maybe even enough time to get something to eat before she needed to head out into the Vacuan desert for her shift?

However, after getting dressed and packed, Summer didn't have time to leave her room before she was confronted by a knock on the door.

The most logical assumption was that Qrow had come to Summer's room – but Summer didn't open the door right away. And, it seems that her prudence had borne fruit.

“It's Dorian," A voice came through the door, and she recognized the speaker's voice. "We need to talk.”

Summer frowned in response, trying to imagine what her new acquaintance wanted to discuss with her at the moment. But still, not wanting to be rude to leave her guest outside, she opened the door and looked at the figure of the young man she was becoming more and more familiar with. “Dorian, um… Come in. Is something wrong?”

Summer took a step back, letting the man come in, before closing the door behind him, trying to determine the subject he wanted to talk to her about.

No, of course, Summer was willing to help her new acquaintance if he had run into some kind of problem, but it was unlikely that he would have asked the help of a passing acquaintance. Well, there was one other reason why a young man would visit a woman at night…

Well, with all due respect to Dorian, she was still a married woman, so if his conversation went in that direction… No, she was certainly flattered that someone liked her that way, but she had a husband, and she was faithful to him…

However, clearly not listening to her internal panic, Dorian took a step inside the room, shutting the door behind him before looking at her carefully. What he said next was definitely shocking, even if he wasn’t propositioning her. “Summer Rose.”

Summer, for whom the words on the guy's lips were like a bucket of ice water, suddenly stood on attention. “What?”

“There’s no need to worry, Summer," Dorian sighed before pulling the cloth off his face, taking off his glasses and looking up at her, and he looked familiar for some reason?

"Though I'm sorry I didn't recognize you right away. If anything, it would be a funny story we could tell the children later. Anyway, I’m not Dorian Grey, my name is Jonathan Goodman, well, I suppose you know me better as Osmond the Third, it’s nice to meet you.”

A second shower of icy water of realization pelted Summer, along with no small amount of embarrassment, causing her to take a step back.

How…  How did she not identify him right away?! He was a public figure for Brother’s sake! A King that appears almost all the time on the news!

Summer, now frozen with a silly expression on her face, didn't know what she should do right now. Laugh at the stupidity of two of Ozpin's strongest allies not recognizing each other, or to cry.

“But I suppose the cup of coffee and a discussion of the funny story about how we both didn't recognize each other could be postponed until later.”

After that, Dorian looked at her carefully, all sense of mirth disappearing from his face. “I know how to deal with the Super-horde.”

Hearing this, Summer recoiled, a whole swirl of thoughts ran through her mind, but in the end she was able to single out the most important words in what Dori… no King Osmond was saying.

Super horde.

Everything else could wait.

Initially, Summer wasn't supposed to deal with the Super-horde on her own. For all her very fantastic power, Summer wouldn't have the strength to do it, not to mention the fact that she simply couldn't physically be present in more than one place at once. No, her presence was necessary so that when Atlas's army began to deal with the Grimm – Summer could deal with the central Grimm, the strongest of them all. And, after that, if she was still in a condition to do so, help deal with the rest.

King Osmond's presence, however, changed everything!

Ozpin hadn't talked about it, though he theorized that he might be able to help – but given Osmond's power, they could deal with the horde without even involving Atlas' army! And definitely sooner, without having to put the people of Vacuo in danger.

“Got it!” Summer couldn't hide the glowing expression on her face, even if she tried to. “I got it, now! I'll let Ozpin know!”

Jonathan only nodded at that, before looking away and exhaling.

***

Wonderful!

Life had finally decided to throw him a bone for once. Now, he wasn't just deciding to do something, even his plan of action was going according to plan! No, even more so, given Summer's presence – better than planned!

Jonathan couldn't help but exhale a sigh of relief. Finally, finally!

However, it was still hard for Jonathan to keep standing – so, even in such an elated state of mind, after a couple of seconds he turned to Summer and took a step towards her. “Do you mind if I sit on the bed?”

But Summer didn't respond, so after waiting a few moments, he took another step toward her, taking a seat on the corner of the bed, before addressing her once again. “Summer?”

Summer, silently continuing to stare into the scroll used to communicate with Ozpin, did eventually turn to Jonathan, with an unreadable expression on her face.

Jonathan didn't have time to question her, receiving the scroll from her weakened hands a moment later, and glancing at the message screen.

Don't do anything.

Well… shit.