Fate's Wild Card Ch.9 (Released)

AN: Weiss gets a surprise.

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A long-lasting impression.

A smirk curls at his lips as Pryce knows exactly what to do with this particular Atlesian snob. Something that will stick with her, make her think twice before running her mouth off and he would get some fun out of this. Besides, he knows Neo would hound him for details later today once he told her. And maybe even demand him to do more things.

Yeah, she is quite a strange woman but then again it is one thing he likes about her.

So using the opportunity of already being close to her face, he moves in and presses his lips on hers, causing the white-haired girl to freeze on the spot as she becomes red as a tomato and goes still as she drops the case again, letting everything scatter across the ground once more.

Stealing a kiss.

A good power move, according to his girlfriend.

And judging by her attitude from earlier, he is pretty sure this is her very first kiss, and the expression she was making only confirms that assumption. The way she went completely rigid, like she'd never even considered this possibility in all her fancy etiquette lessons.

However, it was supposed to be a quick peck on the lips and then leave the scene, but it becomes longer as he finds himself very drawn to it. There's an electrical but pleasant feeling as he's connected with her and doesn't want to pull away, at least for a while. So he closes his eyes to lean more into it, his free hand moving to cup her jaw as her skin feels impossibly soft under his fingers—like she's never had to work a day in her life.

The Atlesian girl makes a small, confused sound against his lips—not quite a protest, not quite acceptance. Her hands flutter uselessly at her sides, clearly not understanding what to do with them. When he finally pulls back, she's breathing heavily, her face flushed crimson, staring up at him with those blue eyes wide with a mixture of outrage, shock, and something else she probably can't even name.

"You—you just—" she gasps, one hand flying up to touch her lips as if she can't believe what just happened. "That was my—how dare you—I'll have you arrested! This is assault! Battery! Public indecency!"

Her voice rises with each accusation, that prim Atlas education kicking in as she tries to regain control of the situation through legal mumbo jumbo terminology.

But as she continues her rant, Pryce steps closer again, closing the distance between them. The movement immediately silences her as all that bravado drains away once more. Her breath catches and she looks up at him with wide eyes, suddenly bashful, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red as she presses herself back against the wall.

"I—I mean it," she stammers, but her voice is much quieter now, almost breathless. "The academy administration will—will hear about this. Professor Goodwitch doesn't tolerate this kind of behavior."

Pryce just laughs at her threats, easily reading the cues in her expression and body language. The way her eyes keep darting to his lips, how she's still touching her own mouth unconsciously, the way she's not actually trying to escape despite having multiple opportunities. He's seen enough people make empty threats to recognize when someone's just talking out of their ass.

"Sorry princess, but I'm not looking for a girlfriend," he says with an amused grin. "Already taken."

That comment hits her like a slap to the face. Her eyes flash with something that looks suspiciously like indignation, and the bashful expression immediately transforms into pure outrage.

"W-What?!" she sputters, her face somehow turning even redder. "I never—I wasn't—how dare you assume I would ever want—with someone like you!"

Her voice cracks slightly on the last part, betraying just how flustered she really is. She straightens up, trying to regain some of her earlier hauteur despite the obvious trembling in her hands.

"The audacity! I wouldn't be caught dead with some common criminal! This was nothing but assault and I'll make sure everyone knows it, you… you fiend!"

Pryce merely chuckles in response and turns around to leave, waving his hand in dismissal as he starts walking away from the still-fuming Atlesian.

"I'll see you in the ballroom, princess." He calls over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" she shouts after him, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "I'm not finished with you! Come back here this instant!"

But Pryce ignores her following shouts, his ears twitching with amusement at how worked up she's gotten. Her voice grows more distant as he puts space between them, though he can still hear her ranting about regulations until he turns another corner and blessed silence returns.

Mission accomplished. Neo would definitely approve of that performance—leaving the princess completely flustered and off-balance while he walks away like nothing happened. Classic power move.

He keeps walking, letting his feet carry him through the winding pathways of Beacon's campus. The sun has nearly set now, painting everything in deep oranges and purples. His stomach reminds him that he still hasn't solved his hunger problem, so he continues his search for something quick to eat.

Eventually, he spots a vending machine tucked into an alcove near one of the dormitory buildings.

Perfect.

He checks his surroundings again, noting the lack of cameras or people around—just empty pathways and darkened windows. With a smirk, he grabs the sides of the machine and starts shaking it back and forth, applying just the right amount of force to not damage it. The mechanical clunking sounds echo in the quiet evening air until a couple of cookies fall into the dispensing slot.

"There we go," he mutters, happily collecting his free snacks. Not exactly a full meal, but it'll do for now. Old habits die hard, and free food is free food.

He finds a patch of grass nearby and settles down to enjoy his cookies alone, savoring the quiet moment after the chaos of the day. The sugar helps, and the peaceful surroundings give him a chance to process the events that led him to this strange path.

After finishing his impromptu dinner, he makes his way to the ballroom where some people are already there waiting. The entire place has been transformed from whatever grand events it usually hosts to become an improvised shelter as now it's filled and lined up with bedrolls, and quite a few are already taken by early arrivals who are also in their pajamas.

Early sleepers maybe.

But first, before picking a bed, he goes to a receptionist table near the entrance. The woman in charge is dark-skinned with shoulder-length, straight brown hair, wearing a white blouse and a vest. She's handing out keys and writing something in what looks like a registry book, occasionally offering encouraging smiles to nervous-looking students. Although he can see why they are all nervous, that woman is pretty. Really pretty, actually—the kind of understated elegance that doesn't need to announce itself.

Still, he approaches the table, and she looks up with warm, friendly eyes.

"Name, dear?" she asks, her voice carrying a gentle kindness that immediately puts him more at ease than he expected.

"Pryce Locke."

The woman—Amber, according to her name tag—stops writing and lifts her gaze, showing her brown eyes and a beauty mark under her left eye. However, that gaze quickly tells him that she knows him—or more like she's heard about him. The slight pause, the way her expression shifts from general friendliness to something more cautious yet still compassionate. It means she's part of the staff and that Ozpin told her about him. Probably nothing bad, he hopes, just being aware and all that.

"Oh," she says softly, and there's something in her tone—not judgment, but maybe concern? "You're the young man Professor Ozpin mentioned." She studies his face for a moment, as if trying to reconcile whatever she's been told with the person standing in front of her. "Are you... settling in alright? I know today must have been overwhelming."

The genuine care in her voice catches him off guard. Most adults who know his story either look at him like a charity case or a potential threat. She's doing neither.

"Yeah, doing fine," he responds, not quite sure how to handle the unexpected kindness.

She nods and gives him a warm smile before handing him a set of keys. "This is the key for your temporary locker for today where you'll find your luggage and where you can store your weapon," she explains. Then, more gently, "If you need anything or have questions, don't hesitate to ask. We want all our candidates to feel welcome here."

"Thanks," Pryce says, pocketing the keys.

"And Pryce?" she calls as he leaves. When he turns back, she's smiling again. "Good luck tomorrow. I have a feeling you'll do better than you think."

He nods and leaves for the locker room, somewhat puzzled by the interaction. It's a quick trip too, and he changes into his pajamas because the skies are darkening and he doesn't want to save himself another trip there later. The pajamas are pretty simple, a big blue shirt and equally long blue pants and then he stores his gunblade inside the locker and locks it.

He returns to the ballroom and looks around for a suitable spot to sleep. The space is filling up fast, with students claiming bedrolls and settling in for the night. So his mind automatically evaluates positions—too close to the entrance means noise and foot traffic, too far in the corner means being trapped if something happens. He needs something with a good view of both entrances but not so exposed that he can't get some actual rest.

His rabbit's ears twitch as they pick up various conversations around the room—nervous chatter about tomorrow, some students already snoring, the occasional laugh from groups that have formed. Just the usual sounds of people trying to settle in for the night in an unfamiliar place.

His eyes sweep the room methodically, cataloging exits and potential problems, before settling on a spot near the tall windows along the far wall. The best spot with a good view of both entrances, natural light from outside, and close enough to the windows for a quick escape if needed. The bedroll there looks untouched too.

He makes his way over and claims the spot, settling down onto the surprisingly comfortable bedding. The windows provide a marvellous view of the now dark starry skies. He can't help but compare it to some of the places he's had to sleep in Mistral—doorways, abandoned buildings, under bridges when it rained. Still, he prefers his small humble apartment.

Pulling out his scroll, he types a message to Neo, ready to tell her about his little performance with the Atlesian princess.

Or tried to, as he heard a loud voice.

"YOU!"

His ears perk up and he looks up to find the girl from earlier, with her hair fully down and wearing a faded blue nightgown with short sleeves and white trim, and she is stomping her way barefoot toward him with obvious determination. Without her hair in that side ponytail, she looks more… authentic.

However, unlike last time she isn't alone as she is followed by the same two girls from the auditorium—the blonde with wild long hair now wearing an orange tank top with her emblem on the front in red, and black boy shorts, and the short girl with black hair and red highlights wearing a matching dark-gray long-sleeved shirt and pants with faded-red polka dots.

Well, he admits that coming as a group is a good idea when confronting somebody. Smart move, princess.

However, he looks around and feigns ignorance as he points at himself, tilting his head. "Me?"

"Yes you!" she snaps, and she's already getting a red face, her pale cheeks flushing with what looks like a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, and he notices she's trembling slightly—whether from rage or something else, he can't tell.

The two other girls flanking the Atlesian send him apologetic looks and he quickly understands that they tried to stop her from coming or dissuade her but failed at it. The blonde one even has her hands up in a placating gesture, while the smaller girl looks confused about what's happening.

"Okay, so what do you need?" he asks casually, setting his scroll aside and giving her his full attention. His tone is perfectly innocent, like he has no idea why she might be upset with him.

Obviously she gets offended at the feigned ignorance, so she isn't that oblivious. "You—what you did earlier was completely—I mean the audacity of—how dare you to k—" only to cut herself off mid-sentence, her face turning an even deeper shade of red as she realizes she's about to discuss their kiss in front of her new friends.

That is more than enough proof for Pryce to know that this girl didn't tell anyone of what happened despite her threats and won't even dare to mention it because it would hurt that precious reputation she clearly wants to uphold in public.

Pryce grins and leans forward, enjoying her growing embarrassment. "Care to repeat that? I didn't quite catch what you were trying to say, princess."

She opens her mouth and closes it a few more times, like a fish out of water, clearly struggling with how to articulate her words without admitting exactly what happened between them. Her blue eyes dart between him and her friends.

Finally, she throws her nose up almost like she's offended by his very existence and turns to leave, walking away with her face still burning red. "This isn't over!" she declares, though it sounds more like a promise to herself than a threat to him.

The girl with black hair steps forward quickly and bows slightly. "Oh gosh, I'm really, really sorry about Weiss! She takes things way too seriously sometimes and gets all worked up over stuff that's probably not even that big a deal. When she saw you she got super angry and just marched right over here and we tried to stop her but she wouldn't listen and—"

"Ruby, breathe," the blonde interrupts with an amused grin. "Come on, don't apologize for Miss Ice Queen going all ballistic for no reason." She turns back to Pryce with a confident smirk, crossing her arms. "Name's Yang Xiao Long, by the way. And you just witnessed what happens when someone disturbs the delicate ecosystem of Weiss's perfectly ordered world."

"Oh! And I'm Ruby Rose!" the smaller girl adds with an enthusiastic wave. "I don't wanna be any kind of knees, I just wanna be a normal girl with normal knees! Wait, that came out wrong..." She trails off, looking flustered.

Yang snorts. "Smooth as always, sis."

Pryce blinks at that remarkably strange remark but nods, anyway. "Pryce Locke."

"Nice to meet you, Pryce!" Ruby beams at him with genuine friendliness he hasn't seen in a long time. "Sorry again about Weiss. She's actually really nice once you get to know her, like really, really deep down there. I haven't seen it yet but I just know she is! Like in all those stories where the mean person turns out to be good, they just need someone to believe in them!"

Yang rolls her eyes. "More like she's got a stick up her ass."

"Yang!" Ruby gasps, looking scandalized. "That's not very nice! We should try to be understanding!"

"What? I'm being very understanding. I understand that she's a stuck-up ice princess who thinks her fancy Atlas upbringing makes her better than everyone else," Yang grins wickedly. "And honestly? It's kind of refreshing to see someone who doesn't immediately start kissing up to her."

No, he did kiss her. In the literal sense.

Ruby sighs but can't hide her small smile. "Anyway, what did you do to make her so mad? She was muttering something about 'inappropriate conduct' and 'teaching people's proper manners' and she looked like she was about to have a meltdown!"

"Yeah, spill it." Yang leans forward with obvious interest. “Since we might be stuck together for the next four years we need all the advantages, we can get.”

Pryce shrugs, maintaining his innocent expression. "Just bumped into her earlier. Guess she's not used to people who don't grovel."

"Oh man, you should have seen her face when she came storming back to us," Yang grins, settling down cross-legged on the floor next to his bedroll like she's planning to stay awhile. "She was all red and sputtering some words to the point I thought she would faint from anger. I've never seen someone get that worked up over what she claimed was just a 'minor collision.'"

Ruby shifts uncomfortably, still standing and fidgeting with the hem of her pajama shirt. "Maybe we shouldn't talk behind her back? That doesn't seem very nice... I mean, she's probably just having a bad day or something."

"Ruby, she literally just marched over here to yell at the guy for bumping into her," Yang points out with a wave of her hand. "I think a little gossip is fair game at this point. Besides, she was the one making a scene." She turns back to Pryce with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So what exactly did you say to her? Because normal people don't get that worked up over a simple collision. Trust me, I've bumped into plenty of people and never seen anyone react like that."

Pryce considers his options. Of course he isn't going to tell them the truth, so it's better to keep it vague.

"Let's just say I didn't apologize the way she expected me to," he says with a slight smirk. "Rich Atlas types usually expect everyone to kiss their boots when they mess up."

"Ha! I knew it!" Yang slaps her knee triumphantly. "She probably expected you to bow and scrape and beg for her forgiveness, right? 'Oh please, your majesty, forgive this lowly peasant for daring to breathe the same air as you!' Am I right?"

Ruby giggles despite herself at Yang's exaggerated impression, covering her mouth with her hands. "Yang, that's terrible! But... kind of accurate from what I've seen so far."

"See? Even my sweet, innocent little sis agrees with me," Yang grins proudly. "And Ruby tries to see the good in everyone, so that's saying something." She leans forward with renewed interest. "So what's your story anyway, Pryce? You're obviously not from Atlas with that attitude. The way you handled our new friend over there suggests you've dealt with rich kids before. Vacuo? Mistral?"

His ears twitch slightly at the direct question. These girls seem friendly enough, and they were on his mental list of people to potentially approach, so better use this chance.

"Mistral originally. Been in Vale for a while now," he answers carefully, keeping the details vague.

"Cool! I've never been to Mistral," Ruby says, finally sitting down on the edge of a nearby bedroll, her earlier discomfort forgotten in favor of curiosity. "Is it really as dangerous as everyone says? With all the crime and bandits and stuff? Dad always told stories about how rough it could be out there."

"Depends where you go," Pryce replies carefully, thinking of the orphanage, the streets, the various criminal elements he'd encountered. "Some parts are rougher than others. But you learn how to handle yourself pretty quick if you want to survive."

Yang nods knowingly, her expression turning more serious. "That explains the attitude. Mistral doesn't exactly breed pushovers, from what I hear. You probably had to learn to stand up for yourself early. No wonder our ice queen over there didn't know what hit her when you didn't immediately start groveling."

"Plus, Vale's got to feel pretty tame after Mistral," Yang continues. "I bet dealing with one spoiled Atlas girl is nothing compared to what you've probably seen."

"We should probably try to get along with her though," Ruby says hopefully, ever the optimist. "I mean, we might end up on the same team tomorrow! Wouldn't that be something? All four of us working together?" She pauses, then adds more quietly, "I just want everyone to be friends..."

Yang and Pryce exchange a look—hers amused, his slightly skeptical.

"Sure, Ruby," Yang says diplomatically, though her tone suggests she thinks the chances of that happening are pretty slim. "I'm sure it'll all work out just fine. Maybe Weiss will surprise us all with her sparkling personality."

"You never know!" Ruby insists with determined optimism. "People can change! And maybe she's just nervous about tomorrow like the rest of us. I know I am. This whole thing is kind of scary when you think about it."

"Nervous? You?" Yang snorts with obvious disbelief. "Ruby, you've been bouncing off the walls with excitement since we got here. I've seen you nervous, and this isn't it. Remember when you had to give that presentation at Signal? You turned green and couldn't speak for five minutes."

"I am nervous!" Ruby protests, her voice pitching higher as she waves her hands. "I mean, what if I mess up? What if I can't keep up with everyone else? What if I do something stupid and embarrass myself in front of everyone? What if—"

"Whoa, slow down there, sis," Yang interrupts gently, her teasing tone softening as she reaches over to pat Ruby's shoulder. "You're gonna do fine. You got into Beacon two years early, remember? Ozpin doesn't just let anyone skip ahead like that."

Pryce raises an eyebrow at that information. Two years early? That explains why she looks so young compared to everyone else. Most people start at seventeen, which would make her...

"Besides," Yang continues with a confident grin, "worst case scenario, you'll just cut through everything with that scythe of yours. Problem solved. I've seen you fight, Rubes. You're scary good when you get going."

Ruby's face lights up immediately at the mention of her weapon, her nervous energy shifting into pure enthusiasm. "Oh! Pryce, what kind of weapon do you use? I love meeting new weapons! I mean, meeting people with new weapons. I mean—you know what I mean, right?"

"Gunblade," Pryce says simply, amused by her sudden transformation from anxious to excited.

"Ooh, really? That's so cool!" Ruby practically vibrates with interest. "Is it a rifle that transforms into a sword, or a sword with gun parts integrated, or does it have separate firing mechanisms? What kind of dust compatibility does it have? How's the balance when you switch between modes?"

There are that many types of gunblades?

She catches herself getting carried away and tries to rein it in, looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I get a little excited about weapons. They're just so much more interesting than... um... most other things. Like people. Wait, no! People are interesting too! I just meant—"

Yang grins knowingly. "She's not kidding about the weapon obsession. Ruby can tell you the specs on pretty much any weapon ever made, down to the maintenance schedules. It's actually kind of scary how much she knows."

"It's not scary, it's useful!" Ruby defends herself earnestly. "Knowing your weapon inside and out is super important for a Huntress! A weapon is an extension of yourself, and if you don't understand every part of it, how can you trust it in battle?"

"Right, and I'm sure that's the only reason you read weapon magazines for fun," Yang teases with a smirk.

Ruby blushes furiously. "They have really good technical articles! And the new designs are always so creative! Did you know that some Atlesian engineers have been experimenting with modular weapon systems that can—"

"Rubes," Yang interrupts with a laugh.

"Right, sorry," Ruby mumbles, looking down at her hands.

Pryce finds himself actually enjoying this conversation. These two have an easy, comfortable dynamic that's completely foreign to him. The way Yang teases but protects, how Ruby gets embarrassed but doesn't actually get upset—it's nothing like the relationships he's used to seeing in Mistral's streets or Vale's underworld.

"So what about you, Yang?" he asks, genuinely curious now. "What's your weapon?"

Yang grins and flexes dramatically, making exaggerated punching motions that cause her blonde hair to bounce. "Ember Celica. Shotgun gauntlets. I like to get up close and personal with my enemies. Why snipe from a distance when you can feel the satisfaction of your fist connecting on their ugly faces?"

"She punches things until they stop moving," Ruby adds helpfully, though there's obvious admiration in her voice. "It's very effective. My sis is really strong."

"Hey, if it works, it works," Yang shrugs with obvious pride. "Plus, there's something satisfying about solving problems with your fists. Sometimes you just need to hit something really, really hard until it learns to behave."

"That's... actually pretty practical," Pryce admits, thinking of his own experiences. In the streets of Mistral, sometimes the direct approach was the only approach that got results.

"See? I knew I liked you," Yang grins, pointing at him. "You get it. None of this fancy, complicated stuff. Just good old-fashioned punches."

"Yang!" Ruby protests, though she's trying not to smile.

"What?"

A comfortable silence falls over the group for a moment. Around them, the ballroom is settling into quieter nighttime rhythms. Students are finishing their conversations and preparing for sleep, voices becoming hushed whispers.

"Well," Yang says eventually, stretching and getting to her feet with a yawn. "I should probably try to get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be interesting, and I want to be ready to kick some Grimm ass." She looks down at Pryce with a mischievous grin. "Thanks for the entertainment tonight. Watching someone ruffle Miss Perfect's feathers was definitely worth staying up for."

"Yang!" Ruby scolds, but she's definitely smiling now.

"What? I'm just being honest! That was the most fun I've had since we got here," Yang grins unapologetically. "Come on, Rubes. Let's go grab our bedrolls before they are stolen."

Ruby stands up as well, then turns back to Pryce with a genuine, warm smile. "It was really nice meeting you, Pryce. And don't worry about Weiss—I'm sure she'll get over whatever happened. She seems like the type who just needs time to cool off and think things through."

‘If only she knew.’ 

"Yeah, nice meeting you both too," he says, and surprisingly, he actually means it.

As the sisters walk away, Yang's arm casually draped over Ruby's shoulders as they chat quietly, he settles back onto his bedroll and pulls out his scroll again to finally send that message to Neo.

The conversation had been... unexpectedly pleasant. Different from anything he's used to.

Tomorrow, he'll have to focus on surviving initiation and whatever tests Ozpin has planned.