"Jericho Piper..."
Jericho was sitting opposite the old man, trying to compartmentalize the layout of his bizarre-looking office. There was a love of horology on display everywhere; gears churned above, beside, and below them through the glass walls, there were timepieces all along the translucent surfaces. There were even a couple of small clocks ticking away on his desk, and a Quote-a-Day calendar set beside a series of black-and-white striped papers that could only be his Atlesian transcript. Quote-a-Day.
Jericho doubted Professor Ozpin needed an inspirational quote once every day
or a calendar to keep track of those days.
"This is an astonishing transcript. What I can read of it, anyway," the old man joked. Professor Ozpin had the same paternal air that those who reported to General Ironwood would often describe; other than that, the two could not have been more different. Ironwood had a commanding presence, charismatic and unflappable before the eyes of any man. Ozpin was subtle, unassuming, amiable; all his power was hidden under the surface, a subtle tension that only those who had to disguise power could recognize - dark versus light, like Jer and Rich had been. Jericho's gloved fist clenched.
For the first time, he was certain someone had noticed.
"Even without General Ironwood's sterling recommendation, it appears you satisfied all of the enrollment prerequisites during your years in Atlas, and you're up on all your general education as well...you've run the Bastion Gauntlet four times?"
Jericho blinked lazily.
"Yes sir. First, third, fifth and--""Seventh, yes. That's certainly an extraordinary level of devotion. I've never had the pleasure of running the course myself, it was a bit before my time...but I believe I watched another Piper run it,
not so many years ago. A six mile run to
start the course, cattle prods, rope ladders as high as buildings...but he moved like quicksilver through it all the same, letting nothing stop him. What was his time, again..."
Jericho's fist clenched harder.
"38:21 his entry year," Jericho explained. It had always been a sore spot - and a note of consternation from his father - that Jer had flubbed what they were both certain would be a record-shattering first showing during his Bastion entrance exams at the age of ten. In hindsight, expecting a ten year old to move like an Olympian wasn't fair, but that was the way Troy Piper's parenting was. And he'd come out better for it, he thought.
Still.
It would have been nice to beat the time.
"And 36:09 his final year."Ozpin's eyes were warm and amused behind his spectacles.
"You're still young, Lieutenant. You'll have other chances."
"You don't have to call me a Lieutenant, sir. I earned the rank in a military academy. This place isn't that.""No, that it is not. Beacon has many advantages over Atlas, if you would pardon an old man's bias for his school, but there is certainly a level of discipline to the north that you may consider to be...lacking here?"
It seemed like a softball question to Jer, but he thought of Bianca Nuit, the Schwarz sisters, Beryl Harken, Vega Venetia, and some of the other psychotic girls that he'd met over the past few days.
"I've noticed that, yes, sir.""Jericho, please. If you don't have to be a Lieutenant, I don't have to be a sir," Ozpin demurred. "Lacking discipline...I see. Alright, Jericho, well, there's clearly no problems with your transcripts aside from..."
The big one.
"Seal Judgment. General Ironwood swears on his life that you have it contained. I talked to your father earlier tonight and he insists the same, but I'd rather hear it from you.
Are you in control?"
Jericho thought back to his final conversation with Troy Piper, not twenty four hours previously. He'd had his doubts about Jericho's ability to maintain the power in his weapon, too. But if he talked to Ozpin...
How did Ozpin get in touch with him?And why had his dad given him the vote of confidence? Had their talk convinced him?
"I would die before I lost control--""Again."
"--again. Sir." Jericho's assertion was cold and confident. Just as usual.
Ozpin's eyes were still studying him fiercely. His fist tightened under the gaze.
"It won't have to come to that, Jericho," Ozpin said gently, before taking the Gold Stripe's transcript in his hands and stacking it up neatly. "Well, as I was saying, there are no problems with your transcript apart from that, and it seems that you've already been assigned to Team Flapjack. Normally we allow our students freedom to customize their school uniforms, but given your unique status as a transfer student, we'll allow you the same amount of freedom as the Haven students on loan here and allow you to wear your Gold Stripes regalia if you see fit. I hope to see you around classes--oh, and that reminds me? It says here you were a 'UTA' in the Bastion marksmanship program. 'UTA' meaning...?"
What, is he serious?"Undergraduate teacher's aide," Jericho explained.
"I was the best shot in our year." I even made Speer switch to hacking. By now he's probably already enabling the sniper function on Ascalon again..."Ah, I see. You already have experience with that sort of thing," Ozpin noted with wry humor. "Well, then, I see no reason you can't help out Professor Iderson in a similar role during your time at our Practice classes. I would hate for a Gold Stripe to find himself
bored by our beautiful course - and I'm sure you'll find assisting the students fulfilling. Good evening, Jericho."
Old son of a bitch.Jericho Piper, lying atop the highest wall on the Beacon obstacle course with his legs straddling either side, woke up with a ragged, sleepy groan that would have turned Bianca and Beryl into geysers. He took a second to breathe in, breathe out - and remember where he was. The dew in springtime had clung to his shirt, mingling with the perspiration from his exercises last night to dampen the fabric and leave it clinging to him. His back was sore from aligning the center of the wall between his shoulder blades all night. But it felt...oddly nice?
It's too cold in Atlas to sleep out here like this, he decided.
Even springtime feels like winter. Here spring was just...spring.
Ahh, hell, what time was it? He had classes to be getting to...
And a notification on his Scroll to answer. No, two. Who was it that was wishing him well this time?
Sender: Cecelia G.
Recipient: Jericho P.
Message: You think an ocean will stop me, devil boy? Rich has approved sanctioning you under the Gigi Protocol. The next time your feet touch Atlesian soil you're getting slapped into irons!! XOXO Princess.Cecelia. Rich's little sister. Jer could remember playing along with her tea parties during summer breaks as a kid - only she, like her brother, had a royal sense of superiority from the day she was born. Instead of tea parties in the traditional sense, it had been more like him helping her line up all the tables in the Gault family dining room to resemble the high hall at Valhalla. Cecelia, of course, got Odin's seat.
Christ, she's what, fifteen or sixteen now?Jer remembered that she'd been appointed to fill the gap in the Gold Stripes unit he'd left behind - she must have gotten bumped up a couple years. Good. She was as talented, charismatic, and open-hearted as her brother; she'd make a good knight, and a better replacement for a soulless devil like him.
Sender: Jericho P.
Recipient: Cecelia G.
Message: Vit sjáumst. I'll keep an eye out for any local crown jewels that might be appreciated more in Atlas.And then the more recent message; this one was hot off the presses, sent literally minutes before he'd woken up.
Sender: Babylon P.
Recipient: Jericho P.
Message: Clone. Hello. Babylon has told me you have fled Atlas this is good. Need you here. I dont have enough bullets for all the fanboys here. There are so many and they think lewd thoughts about Babs. Need more bullets and brother with sharp aim. Will see you soon love mole.Oh, Jesus Christ.They really just needed to buy Bekah a Scroll of her own already, but the girl was like a woman eighty years her senior when it came to technology. The only person she even followed on social media was Babs.
Sender: Jericho P.
Recipient: Babylon P.
Message: Bek, I don't know what Babs told you, but I'm still in school. I just transferred to Beacon for a semester or two. And shooting her fans is a quick way to make sure you both wind up broke. She's not Biggie Smalls, she can't get away with crap like that.The response was almost instantaneous.
Sender: Babylon P.
Recipient: Jericho P.
Message: Noted will only kill the lewd ones. The lewd ones still die. Good advice clone. Glad you were grown. Love mole.Bars.Sender: Jericho P.
Recipient: Babylon P.
Message: Going to class. Talk to you later Bek. Love you - and be good for Babs, for Christ's sake.Sender: Babylon P.
Recipient: Jericho P.
Message: 
Jericho smiled faintly.
She's a good girl. One of the only things Speer had ever done right in his life. Of course, the same could be said for Jer himself...
Jer pocketed his Scroll and stretched with another, grittier groan. He had only a few minutes to rush into the sparsely-used classroom that Practice was technically assigned to and use the showers, let alone brush his teeth, get changed into his Gold Stripes uniform, and get dressed. It was seemingly an insurmountable task for this morning, at least - tonight, when he had introduced himself to his team and slept in a real bed, it would be a different story. But it seemed that his chance at a good first impression had been bungled.
...
Unless I hustle.Always live like there's a towel right behind you. Waiting to be snapped.
Jericho leaped from the wall...and hustled.
Of course he'd made it. A knight never showed up to the tourney late.
Jer, wearing the high-collared school coat of the Atlesian Gold Stripes unit over his regular dark uniform, settled down into a spare seat at Armory. Not many people had filed in yet from what he could see, which was good for him - it gave him more time to scrutinize other students and properly vet who may want to take the seat next to him. There were a few contenders he would be okay with. Grat could sit next to him, or Beryl. Luke Schwarz would be a safer, less offensive pick than either. He was fine with those.
But arriving early would give him a chance to decide for himself who he was sharing space with for the next semester.
It was a good thing that, as a TA, he was allowed to eat lunch in the lounge. It was a short shot from there to Chatsworth's Armory. Life frickin' hacks.
...
Speaking of life hacks...
I'm going to have to ask if I can put my bike in the back.Please. Please please please. The Piper Custom could
really use the love and attention after being jostled around on that plane for Christ knew how long...
