You know, I never really got to go to carnivals much as a kid. They were a dying breed, anyway, and after the economic crash it became really hard to justify unnecessary expenses like that. I still know what they’re like, of course, twenty-odd years of pop-culture osmosis has that handled for me, and you know what?
This is almost exactly like I imagined it would be like.
Tents set up all over a big, grassy area about a five-minute walk away from Beacon, holding everything from games, to food, to toys, to shops. Kids running around everywhere with themed balloons, parents with an equal mixture of exasperation and happiness on their faces trying to chase them down, little mini games set up in booths offering FABULOUS PRIZES to anyone who can beat the challenge...
It’s not a perfect wonderland, though. I can see those Atlesian guard-bots patrolling in twos around the fairgrounds, with actual soldiers interspersed in the routes.
I even see one of the ‘bots running a booth. Looks like its selling little Atlas Military-themed toys, models of soldiers and robots and stuff. As I watch, a little boy with round, fuzzy ears on top of his head starts walking up, before his mom grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him away.
Hearts and minds, Ironwood. At least you’re trying.
The girls and their friends are still chattering away, but I’ve mostly dropped out of the conversation by now. Crowds are a goddamned nightmare. Most of the people aren’t armed, and most of the ones that are look like other students, but I can’t see low-tech gear as well as I can sniff out chemicals and energy signatures. I’m tempted to ask everyone to bring their shields up, just as a precaution, but I don’t want to tire them out ahead of time in case there’s an actual fight that might spring up.
There’s a checkpoint to get in, of course, and security is pretty decent, all things considered, but if I just took safety for granted, I might wind up getting them all killed. Still, this place seems pretty secure. Enough for me to not have to carry weapons out and unholstered.
“Oh, hey, what about this one?!” Nora near-yells, pointing at one of the game booths. It looks like a mockup shooting range, one of those thingies with the pellet guns shooting at little silhouettes. You knock ‘em down, you get points. Almost exactly like something you’d see in a fairground back on Earth, except that the targets were shaped like Grimm.
Nora took off, physically dragging Ren along with her. We all exchanged glances and followed suit.
The attendant looks actually happy to be there, which was an expression I’m guessing is going to change over the next few days. He explains the rules, with only a slight glance to where I’m silently looming in the background. “Alright, step right up! Four people can compete at a time, and whoever knocks down the most of the targets in front of their position wins the prize! However, if one person can hit fifteen targets in a single round, they can get a special prize, one of a kind!” He makes a theatric gesture over a big, flashy looking box to the side of the booth. A person could comfortably stand up in there. Well, guess I know what I’m gonna try to bring home.
Nora whirls around to the rest of us. “Guys, guys, guys! Let’s have a tournament! First Team Juniper can go, then you guys, then the top two face off, then those two face off, and the winner keeps all the prizes!”
Ruby tentatively raised a hand to get her attention. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but there’s nine of us. Not eight.”
Nora paused for a moment, and then ran over to me. “Ohmygod I’m so sorry I totally forgot to ask if you wanted to play since you’re so quiet and keep glaring at stuff or at least I think you’re glaring because you’ve got that thingy on your face and do you want to take my turn?”
It took me a microsecond to process that verbal onslaught. “Nah, that’s alright, you guys go and have fun.”
Nora shakes her head. “Nuh-uh, you’re taking my turn.” And then she grabbed my wrist and dragged me over next to her teammates at the booth.
Probably best if I don’t resist. I take my place between Ren and the Blonde Boy Wonder, and pick up the pellet gun. Just by looking at it, I can tell that this is not exactly a masterpiece of precision engineering. Cheap parts, imperfections in the mechanisms, the pellets don’t match the size of the barrel...
This is not a game where pure marksmanship is supposed to net you the win, or the special prize. Fortunately, I have absolutely zero problems with cheating like a motherfucker.
A little horn goes off, and the competition begins. The Grimm-shaped targets are arranged so that there’s six in front of each station, and they jerk back and forth and move around to make them harder to hit.
I wait a few seconds to get the pattern down, idly note windspeed and atmospheric conditions, fire a test shot to see what the behavior of the pellet when it leaves the barrel is, then proceed to nail the remaining targets with one shot each over the course of just another second. They swing down, pop back up, and I nail ‘em all again.
After that, the horn sounds again, and the targets stop moving. The attendant walks back up to the counter. “Okay, looks like the two boys here came last, with two and four targets respectively.” He gestures to Pyrrha. “The lovely lady here came in second, with seven targets, so you can get a consolation prize.” He points over to the list of awards, and Pyrrha chooses a little cheap stuffed dog.
“And, our winner this round is...this gentleman! Here’s your prize.” He plops a gigantic, fluffy, cartoonish-looking Nevermore doll down in front of me.
I look down at my ‘prize,’ then back up him. He falters for a second. “O-or I guess you could get the next two rounds for free?”
I make him jump when I start chuckling. “Nah, I’ll take the birdy.”
I pick it up off the table and sling it over my shoulder. Seriously, this thing is huge. If Ruby curled up into a ball she could probably lie down on it and fall asleep.
Gah. Mental sweetness overdose. My one weakness.
The girls take their places, pick up the pellet guns, and lay into the targets at the sound of the horn.
Except for Ruby, none of them are really good with rifles, apparently. Weiss in particular doesn’t really seem like she knows what she’s doing, while Blake and Yang look like they know the technique, but have obviously never used an actual rifle in their entire lives.
Ruby hits six targets, grumbling about “Stupid, slow, floaty pellets.” Blake gets five, Yang gets two, and Weiss only hits one, and that looks like it was a happy accident. Her expression is hilarious.
The little horn sounds again, and the worker hands another giant stuffed animal, this time a PG-looking Beowolf, to Ruby. The only consolation prizes left for Blake to pick out are another little dog-doll, a stuffed mouse, and a plastic bird.
She reaches over to the mouse, before Yang’s barely-stifled giggles reach her ears. I notice that her bow twitches, slightly, and she quickly grabs the stuffed dog instead.
She gives Yang a dirty look. Yang ignores her.
“Okay then, next four step right up!”
I lean over to Nora. “Mind holding onto my prize for me?”
Her eyes light up. “No problem!”
I toss it over to her, and she grabs the toy Nevermore in a bear hug. Her voice is barely discernible from behind all the fluff. “It’s so sooooft!”
That issue taken care of, I step over and take my place at the booth, with Pyrrha, Blake, and Ruby. Same place as last time, so I don’t even have to readjust to a different pellet gun.
“Ready? Go!”
The horn sounds, and I waste no time in putting down all six targets. Half a second later, they pop back up, and I nail them a second time.
The third time around, I only get four before the horn sounds and the game is over. Well, now I know for certain that this is less than entirely fair. I’m pretty sure I played a perfect game, and I’m only one point over the threshold for the super-special-unique Prize of Glory.
Well, that’s capitalism for you. However, fuck you 'capitalism', I emerge victorious despite your crafty ways.
The attendant deflates a little bit, but continues to fake being absolutely, 100% cheerful. “Wow, sir, congratulations! I’m in awe of your marksmanship! Come and claim your prize!”
He walks over to the prize-box, and smacks it. The front falls forward, and I behold my glorious reward.
It’s another goddamned stuffed Grimm. You’d think that the embodiments of genocidal evil wouldn’t be so widely marketed to children, wouldn’t you? Unless taking the sting out is sort of intentional. That’s actually kinda clever, when I think about it.
Anyway, I am now the proud possessor of a poofy Ursa that’s noticeably larger than I am. Whoopie.
Still, a prize is a prize, and I can think of a few uses for a giant stuffed animal.
So, I walk over, pick up the Ursa that I now dub Mr. Floofles, and carry it back over to the squad.
Ruby’s eyes are wide, and her mouth is hanging slightly open. “That is awesome.”
“But...you don’t have anywhere to keep it.” Weiss observes. “That footlocker won’t really work, will it?”
“Hm. Good point...”
I toss it to Ruby. “Guess you guys’ll have to hold on to it for me.”
She makes a noise halfway in between a yelp and a squawk as the tide of poof flattens her against the ground.
I clap my hands to my ‘cheeks’ in mock distress. “Oh no! The Grimm have overcome the mighty Huntress! What will we ever do now!?”
Yang busts out laughing, while Blake and Weiss help lift the Ursa off of Ruby.
I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around to see Nora, holding out the stuffed birdy. “Here’s this back.”
I shake my head. “I’m not a ‘fluffy toys’ sort of person. Keep it.”
“Really?” When I nod, she straight-up starts squealing. “This is the best day ever!” Nora runs off, grabbing Ren’s arm and dragging him behind her. “Come on, Ren, all we need is to make a pillow fort and things will be perfect!”
Jaune and Pyrrha exchange glances. The blondie clears his throat awkwardly, before saying “We should...probably go make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble. Bye guys!”
As he starts to walk off, Pyrrha smiles apologetically. “Sorry about this. We’ll meet you guys for dinner, later.” She heads off to catch up to her teammates.
I turn around to face the girls of Team RWBY. “Well, she's certainly an interesting one, isn't she?.” Weary, agreeing nods all around.
Ruby’s holding on to her brand-new Ursa, while Yang is carrying Ruby’s Beowulf. I kinda think that it should be the other way around, since Ruby is tottering back and forth like she’s barely keeping her balance, but oh well. At least she’s got something to cushion her when she falls.
Most importantly, from what I can see of her expression, Ruby’s smiling, energetic. Back to her old self.
I guess all it took was a walk in the park, huh?
Well, we’ve got a few hours or so until it’ll be time to meet back up with the others, so we can probably just keep wandering around and seeing the sights. Nobody’s tried to kill anyone yet today, which makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier, and even I’ve managed to have a little fun.
My train of thought is disrupted when I notice a guy walking towards us. There’s people milling around all over the place, but this one’s making a beeline straight for our little congregation. Not a Faunus, but I’m not gonna let that put me at rest.
Older fellow, probably mid-forties or later. Short blonde hair, skin’s got a bit of a tan to it, face looks like somebody who’s used to going outdoors. Light orange cargo pants, tan shirt with a black vest, but what really catches my eye is the armor on his shoulders. Definitely a fighter, then. Probably friendly, considering our surroundings, but just in case...
I step forward, putting myself in between the new guy and the girls. They all turn around to see what I’m staring at, and I notice Ruby and Yang’s heart rate spike. Okay, someone they both recognize and react to, and who is moving right towards us. Not good signs. Not good at all.
So, naturally, I’m extremely surprised when Ruby yells “DAD!” Then, she drops her stuffed bear, dashes forward, leaps into the air, and executes a perfect flying hug-tackle that ends in her hanging off of this new guy’s shoulders.
And then Yang comes in with a move that has significantly more ‘tackle’ than ‘hug,’ the impact driving him a good couple of feet back. After the initial “Oh god my solar plexus” noises, all three of them are laughing and hugging it out.
I look to my sides, and see that Weiss and Blake are just as lost as I am.
Well, ain’t this day just full of surprises. Guess it's time to meet Daddy Dearest.
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