Nurse Jaune 3

Patreon note. Minecraft Jaune and Nurse Jaune won the polls. I'm writing them at the same time and this came out first cause it was shorter. Plus easier to write.

This may be the last chapter. Not sure where to go from here. Only one missing is Neo, and I think that might be a retread of the Emerald thing where she uses illusions then gets shot in the ass by Jaune.

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Jaune was just settling in to review his notes from the Cinder situation (which he still didn't understand and was pretty sure he never would) when someone knocked on his door. He looked up to see a woman in a crisp military uniform standing in the doorway. She had snow white, almost silvery, hair pulled back in a severe bun and the kind of posture that screamed "I could break you in half but I'm too polite to mention it." Reminded him of Professor Goodwitch.

More importantly, she looked exactly like Weiss, just older and somehow even more intimidating, "Mr. Arc?" she said in a voice that was cultured and precise but thankfully not condescending, "I'm Winter Schnee. I believe you've met my younger sister?" The name and the family resemblance immediately put Jaune on high alert. He tensed up, waiting for her to start making threats about his family's farm or demanding to speak to Ozpin about his "unprofessional conduct" or whatever rich-person complaint she'd come up with. Winter looked like prime Atlesian. He could pracitcally feel the "I'm better than you" aura emanating from her.

Instead, Winter just smiled politely - a real smile, not the brittle, fake thing Weiss had - and held up a small basket, "I came to apologize for Weiss's behavior before," she said, "I also brought tea and cookies, if you have a moment to spare. Think of it as an apology fift."

Jaune blinked, completely thrown off by the unexpected civility. After the morning he'd had, someone offering him food and apologies instead of bribes and threats felt like some kind of miracle, "Uh," he said intelligently before shaking his head, "Sure. I mean, yes. Come in."

Winter settled herself in the chair across from his desk with the same fluid grace Weiss but without any of the underlying tension. Every inch of movement was smooth. Controlled. She unpacked the basket with efficient movements, producing an actual tea service - like, with a real teapot and matching decorated cups - and a plate of what looked like honest-to-god homemade cookies. Snickerdoodles, of all things. Last thing he expected from an elite Atlas Huntress.

"I hope you don't mind Atlas Grey," she said, pouring the tea without a single drop out of place, "It's Weiss' favorite, though I suspect she gets that from our mother."

The tea was actually really good, and the cookies were even better. Jaune found himself relaxing despite his earlier worries. Winter wasn't exactly warm - she had that same controlled, proper demeanor that seemed to run in the Schnee family - but she wasn't threatening to ruin his life either, which was honestly a nice change of pace.

"I want you to know that Weiss's behavior during her meeting was completely unacceptable," Winter continued, her tone becoming more serious, "I taught her better than that. Threatening people and attempting bribery is not the Schnee way, regardless of what our father might have taught her during my absence." She took a delicate sip of her tea.

Jaune nodded along, taking a sip of his own tea. It made sense, actually. Winter's military uniform suggested she was probably big on discipline and proper conduct. Atlas soldiers were (in)famous across Remnant for being huge sticks in the mud. That and being literally the only standing army after everyone agreed to demilitarize after the Great War. No idea how that worked. He was never really big on history. A C+ was the highest score he ever got. Mom still framed it on the fridge.

"She's normally not like that," Winter said, and there was something almost apologetic in her voice, "Weiss can be... challenging, but she's not usually so childish. I think being away from home for the first time has been more difficult for her than she wants to admit. She's gotten freedom in Vale that she never had back in Atlas and I believe she's acting out. Teenage rebellion." She rolled her eyes, "I'm happy that she's expressing herself more, but that's no reason for her to act like a brat."

"It's fine," Jaune said, surprising himself by actually meaning it. The cookies were helping. It was hard to stay mad at someone's family when they brought you really good cookies, "I mean, it wasn't great, but I've dealt with worse..."

Winter raised an eyebrow, "Worse than attempted bribery and vague threats against your family's livelihood?"

"You'd be surprised," Jaune said dryly, thinking about Blake's conspiracy theories and Nora's dramatic wailing performance. Then there was whatever the hell Cinder's deal was, "Your sister was actually pretty tame compared to some of the others." At least she could be intimidated by calling Goodwitch and Ozpin.

"I see." Winter looked like she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned about that statement, "Still, her behavior reflected poorly on our family name. The Schnees are supposed to stand for more than throwing money at problems or making empty threats." She paused, studying Jaune with those sharp blue eyes that were so similar to Weiss's but somehow less hostile, "I understand she also made some disparaging comments about your family's profession?"

Jaune shrugged, "Not really. She had no idea what my family did. She was surprised when she found out I was a farmer's kid from the countryside."

Winter's lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile, "Yes, I imagine threatening a farming family with agricultural market manipulation would be rather ineffective. Weiss sometimes forgets that not everyone operates in the same social circles we do."

They chatted for a while about Weiss, Atlas military protocol, and the logistics of Atlas artificial farmland. Jaune was actually starting to think this was turning out to be a pleasant break from his day of medical chaos. Winter was smart, polite, and hadn't once threatened to ruin his life or challenged him to ritualistic combat like that Arslan chick. It was like finding an oasis in a desert of teenage insanity. A mature woman who knew better than the teenage brats.

Then his scroll buzzed with a message from Ozpin.

Jaune glanced down at it absently, then felt his blood turn to ice water in his veins.

"Mr. Arc - Specialist Schnee hasn't received her mandatory vaccinations yet. General Ironwood mentioned you should administer them if you encounter her during her visit. - O"

A cold sweat broke out down Jaune's spine as the reality of his situation crashed over him like a Nevermore dive-bombing a picnic. He wasn't just chatting with Winter Schnee, concerned older sister. He was chatting with Specialist Winter Schnee. An Atlesian military operative. Who needed a shot.

A shot that he was going to have to give her. With a needle. But hey, Winter's been totally reasonable so far, right? Maybe she'd be like Ren, all calm and stoic about medical procedures (cause he lobotomized himself, but hey). Or like that Mercury guy who compared taking a shot to child abuse. Surely, a trained military Specialist would handle a simple vaccination with professionalism and maturity.

...Right?

"So, uh," Jaune said, trying to sound as casual as possible while his internal panic sirens were blaring at maximum volume, "I just got a message from Headmaster Ozpin. Apparently I'm supposed to give you a vaccination while you're her?"

Winter's teacup froze halfway to her lips. Her entire body went rigid, and when she looked at him, there was a sudden intensity in her blue eyes that made Jaune feel like a mouse that had just noticed it was having tea with a very polite Nevermore, "I'm sorry," she said, her voice still perfectly controlled but with an underlying edge that could have cut glass, "Could you repeat that? I think I misheard you."

The feeling of dread in Jaune's stomach grew from a small, manageable knot into something the size and weight of a Goliath,"You... need to take your vaccination shot," he said slowly, hoping against hope that she'd still be normal about this. She'd spent the whole hour talking about how Weiss should've been more mature about the whole thing! "That shouldn't be a problem... right?"

Winter carefully, deliberately, set down her teacup with the kind of precision that suggested she was using every ounce of her military training to maintain control. Then she smiled. It was the same pleasant, polite smile she'd been wearing all afternoon, but somehow it transformed into something that belonged in a horror movie. The kind of smile that said "I'm about to do terrible things to you, but I'm going to be very civilized about it."

"Mr. Arc," she said in that same perfectly modulated voice, "I want you to understand something very clearly. As a Specialist in the Atlesian military, I have access to resources and authority that most people can only imagine. I could have you disappeared into the deepest, darkest prison pit that Atlas has to offer. And I could do it without a trial, without paperwork, and without anyone ever finding out what happened to you."

"Uh...what?" Jaune choked.

She leaned forward slightly, her smile never wavering, "Your family would never see you again. They would never know what happened to you. You would simply... vanish. Do you understand what I'm telling you or do I need to be less subtle?"

Jaune stared at her, feeling like his soul was trying to evacuate his body and go straight to heaven. The pleasant, apologetic older sister was gone, replaced by a highly trained government operative who was calmly explaining how she could make him disappear forever. Because she refused to take her shots.

He almost felt like crying. The apple really didn't fall far from the tree. The only difference between the Schnee sisters was that Weiss threatened him with economic warfare while Winter casually described committing kidnapping and murder like she was discussing the weather, "I... I understand," he managed to croak out, his voice about three octaves higher than normal.

"Good," Winter said brightly, her smile becoming even more terrifying in its pleasantness, "I'm so glad we could have this conversation. Now, about that vaccination..."

Jaune was about to just give up right then and there, maybe start drafting his will and picking out a nice spot for his inevitable unmarked grave. Then his scroll buzzed again with another message from Ozpin.

"General Ironwood's number: 43012 - ATLAS COMMAND. Call if needed."

It was like finding a life preserver while drowning in an ocean of Schnee-related death threats. With the desperate speed of someone whose life literally depended on it, Jaune typed in the number and hit the video call button just as Winter stood up from her chair, already radiating the smug satisfaction of someone who was absolutely certain she'd won.

She was almost to the door, probably mentally composing her plans for his mysterious disappearance, when the call went through.

A severe-looking man with graying hair appeared on the screen, his expression all business and military authority. He had the face of someone who could make Grimm turn around and cry for mommy, "This is General Ironwood. Who am I speaking with?"

Winter froze in the doorway like someone had hit her with an ice Dust round, "Um, this is Jaune Arc, sir," Jaune stammered, trying to keep his voice steady, "I'm the nurse at Beacon Academy. Specialist Schnee is refusing to take her mandatory vaccination shot."

He tilted the scroll so the screen was facing Winter, and the transformation was immediate and devastating. All the cold menace, the casual threats of imprisonment and murder, the terrifying government operative persona? Gone without a trace. Winter Schnee, the woman who just calmly described how she could make him disappear into an Atlesian dungeon without a trace, suddenly looked like a a kid who'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Specialist Schnee," Ironwood's voice carried the kind of authority that could make grown men confess to crimes they didn't commit, "Is this true?"

Winter's face went through several different expressions: panic, calculation, resignation, and finally a desperate attempt at innocence that fooled absolutely nobody, "Of course not, sir!" she said, her voice pitched just a little too high to be convincing, "It was simply a misunderstanding! I was just... clarifying the proper procedures! You know how important it is to follow protocol!"

Ironwood's expression suggested he was buying exactly none of this, "I see. And you're prepared to receive your vaccination now? Right in front of me?"

"Absolutely, sir! Right away, sir!" Winter spun around and marched back to the chair with the rigid posture of someone who was trying very hard to salvage what remained of her dignity. She rolled up her right sleeve with sharp, efficient movements and thrust out a pale, surprisingly muscular arm like she was surrendering it for amputation, "Ready," she said through gritted teeth, not making eye contact with either Jaune or the scroll screen.

Jaune was too relieved and terrified to do anything but grab a syringe and get to work as quickly as possible. The moment the needle touched her skin, Winter's face scrunched up like he was performing emergency surgery with a rusty spoon and no anesthesia. Her whole body went rigid, every muscle tensed like she was trying to turn herself into a statue through sheer willpower. She clenched her hand and Jaune eyed the muscles along her wrist. She could probably squeeze his head like a grape.

She didn't make a sound - probably too proud to let the General hear her cry over a simple medical procedure - but Jaune could see her jaw clenching hard enough to crack teeth. A tiny bead of sweat dripped down her forehead, and her free hand gripped the edge of the chair like she was trying to crush it into powder.

When he finally pulled the needle out and applied the band-aid, Winter sat there for a moment, breathing like she'd just run a marathon. Then she looked directly at him, and despite her professional composure, the message in her eyes was crystal clear, 'You are dead,' she mouthed silently, making sure the camera couldn't see her lips moving, 'They will never find your body.'

Jaune felt his soul try to evacuate his body again. Maybe Vacuo would be far enough to run. He could change his name, dye his hair, take up a nice, safe career like professional Grimm wrestling or bomb disposal. He'd call himself Felipe.

"Excellent work, Specialist," Ironwood said from the scroll, apparently oblivious to the death threats being exchanged right in front of him, "I'll expect your mission report by 0800 tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Winter replied, her voice perfectly professional despite the fact that she was still staring at Jaune like she was planning his funeral arrangements. Jaune made sure to keep the scroll pointed at her as she walked out of the room. And get some cameras. And maybe write a note saying he wasn't suicidal in case she had him disappeared.

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The next day found Jaune in a state of perpetual cold sweat that had nothing to do with the weather. Most of the students had already been vaccinated through a combination of psychological warfare, bribery, blackmail, and tranquilizer darts. Which meant it was time to move on to the teaching staff.

Including Professor Goodwitch.

Under normal circumstances, Glynda Goodwitch was already one of the most intimidating people at Beacon Academy. She had this way of looking at you that made you feel like she could see every poor life decision you'd ever made and was personally disappointed in all of them. Her Semblance let her move objects with her mind, she carried a riding crop like it was a weapon of mass destruction, and she had the kind of authoritative presence that made grown Huntsmen stand up straighter and apologize for things they hadn't even done yet. He'd personally seen her lift buildings (PLURAL) with the same amount of effort it took people to lift empty cardboard boxes.

...And now Jaune was essentially painting a target on his back and asking one of the most powerful people at the school to let him stab her with a needle.

A few days ago, he might have thought she'd be professional about the whole thing. After all, she was an adult, a trained Huntress, and (supposedly) a rational human being who understood the importance of proper medical care. But the past couple of days had taught him that absolutely nothing was sacred when it came to people and their phobias about needles. He'd watched a girl who could punch through concrete faint at the sight of a syringe and an Atlesian Specialist threaten to disappear him into a military prison over a vaccination.

He was still looking over his shoulder for Winter Schnee with a black bag and a one-way ticket to an Atlas dungeon.

When Professor Goodwitch arrived at his office, the tension in the room became so thick you could have cut it with Yang's gauntlets. She moved with her usual precision, but there was something different about her. A kind of coiled readiness that made Jaune think of a very polite predator sizing up its prey. She sat down in the chair across from his desk, crossed her legs, and fixed him with those sharp green eyes that seemed to pierce straight through to his soul.

Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare, Jaune reminded himself frantically, trying to keep his eyes focused on her face and definitely not on anything else. The last thing he needed was to add "inappropriate staring" to his growing list of reasons why the Beacon faculty might want him dead, "Mr. Arc," Professor Goodwitch said, her voice carrying that same crisp authority it always did but with an undertone of warning that made his spine prickle with fear, "Before we proceed, I want to ask you something."

Jaune swallowed hard, "Yes, ma'am?"

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze never wavering from his face, "Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?" The question hung in the air between them like a loaded weapon. There was something in her tone. Not quite a threat, but definitely a warning. Like she was giving him one last chance to reconsider before he did something that would fundamentally change their professional relationship, "I'm asking for your sake, not mine."

Jaune felt his mouth go dry. That was definitely a threat. A polite, professionally delivered threat, but a threat nonetheless. He was starting to understand why Ozpin looked so relieved when Jaune took the job of being the nurse all those months ago. The Headmaster knew exactly what kind of fresh hell he was signing up for and didn't warn him. Bastard.

The next half hour was possibly the most tense thirty minutes of Jaune's entire life, and that was including the time Yang walked into the office while still on fire after combat practice. Professor Goodwitch never raised her voice, never made threats of disappearing him like Winter, but somehow managed to make every word sound like a promise of professional destruction.

"This is part of your job responsibilities," Jaune said, attempting to sound more confident than he felt.

"My job responsibilities," Goodwitch replied coolly, "Include supervising your performance and conducting your employee reviews. I'd hate for this interaction to color my assessment of your... professionalism."

Okay, that was definitely a threat'

"It'll be quick," he tried again, gesturing to the syringe, "Two seconds, tops."

"Mr. Arc, do you know how many disciplinary reports cross my desk in a given week?" she asked, adjusting her glasses with the kind of precision that suggested she was imagining adjusting his neck instead, "There are dozens. It would be quite easy for yours to find its way into that pile. And trust me, I'm not one know for my gentle touch. You can ask any student."

"The medical benefits are really important-"

"I'm also in charge of scheduling," she interrupted, not even pretending to listen to his argument, "Night shifts, weekend duties, holiday coverage. There are so many unpleasant assignments that need to be filled and not enough people to do them."

"Professor Goodwitch, this is really just-"

"And let's not forget that I evaluate your housing arrangements. The dorms are quite nice, but there are much less... comfortable accommodations available for staff members who don't meet expectations." She looked around the room.

Jaune tried a different approach, "Ozpin said all faculty members need to-"

"Headmaster Ozpin trusts my judgment implicitly when it comes to personnel matters," she said, her smile sharp enough to cut glass, "I'm sure he'd understand if certain staff members were found to be... unsuitable for their positions."

"But the health regulations clearly state that-"

"Mr. Arc," she said, leaning back in her chair with the confidence of someone who held all the cards, "I have tenure. You have a temporary contract that comes up for renewal every semester. Do you really want to test which one of us has more job security?"

She had all the power here, and she wasn't shy about using it. Every argument he made, every regulation he cited, every appeal to reason or policy; she shut them all down with the ruthless efficiency of someone who'd been destroying students' hopes and dreams for decades. It didn't matter what he said. Appealing to her professionalism, threats about calling Ozpin, just flat out begging. Nothing changed. The only reason she didn't walk out right now was to humor him.

Jaune was running out of options, and they both knew it.

Time to go for the big guns.

He pulled out his scroll and hit a number on his speed dial. Goodwitch raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking that nothing he could possibly do would change her mind. She probably figured he was calling Ozpin, or maybe trying to get backup from another teacher. Her expression was smug and confident, almost amused by his desperation.

Then Professor Port walked through the door.

The look in Professor Goodwitch's face would've been held up in the hall of fame. The cool confidence vanished, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like horror, "Ah, Glynda!" Port boomed, his voice filling the small infirmary like a cheerful avalanche, "Young Arc here said you needed some company during your medical appointment! Splendid! This reminds me of the time I was getting treated for a Beowolf bite back in my younger days..."

Jaune quickly grabbed a book and sat down to read, letting the professor's droning calm him down. Unlike literally everyone else in school, he thought Port's stories were really calming. A nice change of pace from the threats and bribes and non-stop wailing. He and Professor Goodwitch locked eyes across the desk, and the message was crystal clear: This doesn't stop until you take the shot.

"...of course, that was nothing compared to the King Taijitu incident of '57," Port continued, completely oblivious (or not caring) to the psychological warfare taking place in front of him, "You see, I was still a young lad tracking this particularly large specimen through the forests of eastern Vale when suddenly..."

Professor Goodwitch's left eye started twitching.

"...which naturally reminds me of my encounter with the Nuckelavee near the village of Kuroyuri. Fascinating creatures, really, though quite dangerous if you don't know the proper techniques for..."

Thirty minutes in, Professor Goodwitch was gripping the arms of her chair hard enough to leave fingerprints in the metal. She could've walked out, but that would only delay the inevitable. Eventually, he'd call her back and do this again. And again. And again. And if she fired him then she'd tell the next Nurse to do it too.

"...but that's nothing compared to my experiences with the Grimm of Solitas. Did I ever tell you about the time I fought three Geists simultaneously while suffering from altitude sickness and a severe case of..."

An hour in, her left eye had developed a noticeable tic, and she was staring at Jaune with the kind of hatred usually reserved for war criminals.

"...which brings me to my most harrowing adventure yet: the Great Beringel Migration of 3079. Picture, if you will, a wall of darkness and fury stretching from the edge ot the horizon..."

Two hours. Two full hours of Professor Port's rambling, meandering stories about Grimm encounters, hunting techniques, and an uncomfortably detailed account of his digestive issues during a particularly challenging expedition. The man had somehow managed to connect every single story to at least three other stories, creating an endless loop of academic torture that showed no signs of stopping. It was like an Ouroborosof boredom.

"And then that King Taijitu bit me right in the posterior!" He slapped his rump for good measure, "It happened right after my Aura sputtered out too! Left a rather fashing scar on the right cheek! I could show you if-"

Finally, finally, Professor Goodwitch cracked, "FINE!" she shrieked, thrusting her arm out toward Jaune with wild, (somehow) bloodshot eyes, "JUST GIVE ME THE DAMN SHOT!"

Port paused mid-sentence, looking genuinely surprised, "Oh my, was I interrupting something important? I do apologize-"

"GET OUT!" Goodwitch shrieked, pointing toward the door with her free hand while still offering her arm for injection, "GET OUT RIGHT NOW!"

Port looked a bit hurt but nodded and headed for the exit, "Well, I suppose I should check on my classroom anyway. Do let me know if you'd like to hear the rest of the Beringel story, Glynda!"

The moment he was gone, Jaune quickly administered the injection while Goodwitch sat there trembling with rage and what might have been mild psychological trauma, "I will remember this," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming, "I will remember this for the rest of my career. Your employee review is going to be a masterpiece of creative destruction."

Jaune nodded absently as he applied the band-aid. At this point, getting fired was honestly the least of his problems. He was pretty sure Winter Schnee was still planning his mysterious disappearance, and now he'd just made an enemy of the most vindictive teacher at Beacon Academy.

Maybe it was time to pick up the family farm again. Being a farmer didn't sound so bad right now. Maybe date a nice Faunus girl.

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Omake: The Amber Incident

Jaune thought that future Huntsmen refusing to take their shots would be the absolute worst part of his job.

He was wrong. So very, very wrong.

He was just about to lock up for the day, mentally preparing himself for whatever fresh hell tomorrow would bring, when a woman he'd never seen before suddenly burst through his door like she was running from a horde of Grimm. She didn't look like a student. Dark skin, brown hair, and an outfit that looked...slapdash at best. She looked like she'd rolled out of bed and put on whatever she could grab.

"I need a vaccine!" she shouted breathlessly, her brown eyes wild and unfocused, "Right now!"

Jaune blinked, checking his list for the hundredth time that day. Her picture definitely wasn't on it, but also... she was actually asking for a vaccination. Voluntarily. Without threats, bribes, elaborate conspiracy theories, promises of revenge. After the week he'd had, someone actually wanting medical treatment seemed almost too good to be true.

"Uh, sure," he said, reaching for his supplies, "I don't think you're on my list, but if you want a vaccine, that's totally fine. What's your name?"

"Amber," the woman said, and there was something manic in her voice that made Jaune's instincts start screaming danger signals, "And I don't just want a vaccine." Before Jaune could ask what she meant by that, Amber lunged forward and grabbed his entire container of vaccines- needles, syringes, vials, the whole setup and clutched it to her chest like it was the holy grail,"I'm taking ALL of them!" she said, already backing up to the door.

"Wait, what-" Jaune started, but she was already running, turning around and slamming the door behind her, "Those are for everyone!" he shouted, grabbing Port's tranquilizer rifle from where he'd left it after the Emerald Incident™. He took off after her, his medical training warring with his growing sense that this situation had gone completely off the rails.

"I was attacked by Cinder for being weak!" Amber screamed over her shoulder as she sprinted down the hallway, somehow managing to prepare a syringe like a professional while running at full speed, "I'll never be weak again!"

And then, to Jaune's absolute horror, she jabbed the needle directly into her own arm without even slowing down,"That's not how vaccines work!" he yelled, raising the tranquilizer gun and taking aim. But his shot went wide as Amber suddenly veered left, somehow anticipating exactly where he was going to fire.

"I'll be stronger!" she shouted again, pulling out another syringe and stabbing it into her other arm, "I'll be faster! I'll be INVINCIBLE!" Jaune fired again and the shot missed as a sudden gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and deflect the dart. Which was weird, because they were indoors and all the windows were closed, "I'LL BE A LIVING GOD!" Amber shrieked, now juggling multiple syringes and somehow managing to inject herself with all of them without slowing down. On the contrary, she was getting FASTER.

Every shot Jaune took seemed to get knocked off course by inexplicable bursts of air that came from absolutely nowhere. It was like the atmosphere itself was protecting her, which made no sense. But then again, nothing about this week made sense.

When they reached the main courtyard, things went from bizarre to absolutely impossible. Amber, still clutching half a dozen empty syringes and screaming about godhood, suddenly just... started flying. Not jumping really high, not using some kind of Dust-powered device. Flying. Like gravity was more of a suggestion than a law of physics, "I AM POWER INCARNATE!" she bellowed from about thirty feet up, still somehow managing to inject herself with the remaining vaccines while hovering in mid-air like some kind of deranged medical angel.

Jaune stood in the courtyard, watching this insane woman fly away into the sunset while pumping herself full of every vaccine Beacon had in stock, and felt his last thread of sanity finally snap. He looked down at the tranquilizer rifle in his hands, slowly raised it until the barrel was pointing at his own jaw, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Empty. Of course it was empty.

"Damn it," he muttered, watching Amber disappear over the treeline while still screaming about her newfound godhood.

He was definitely updating his resume tonight.