Qrow had tracked her to a small bar in an alleyway, on the edge of Vale - "The Old Hunter".

Rumours of an angry, drunken, grey with a strong arm, destroying bars that closed their services to her.

When Oz sent Qrow to investigate, Oz was convinced he knew who it was, and Qrow didn't know what to expect - some old huntress that Oz knew from his hunting days, maybe, lounging in their retirement, with a habit for property damage.

Which brought him to now. In a small bar, with the intention of helping out a mopey old Huntress, along with the odd drink or two.

He did not expect to find a Hunter - not a Huntress or Huntsman, but a bona-fide, old-fashioned Hunter. That was, of course, assuming that she didn't kill one to aqurie her large, wide-brimmed, leather hat that hung above low over her heavy eyes - the calling card of an Old Hunter, seemingly the namesakes of this bar.

How very fitting.

Word was that the Hunters where the best of the best at what they do, in a time nigh seven decades removed from now. How one was still around and kicking ass was a mystery in of itself. Why or how Oz knew who they were was another one.

He took note of the large hunk of iron that must have been her weapon, leather wrapped around the hilt, resting against the bar. It had serrated teeth along one side, though it looked more like a club than a blade in any way - for bashing a foe to a mushy pulp, more so than cutting something up into messy, bloody threads - both trademark Hunter signs.

Yep, definitely a Hunter. Only they could stomach such crude, yet devastating weaponry.

As he slowly approached the bar, with a good amount of caution, the Hunter acknowledged him, her voice dry.

"Qrow Branwan, what a suprise. Oz sent you here I'd imagine? Heh, well you can tell him that he can come beg to me himself, instead of sending his lackeys to do it for him."

Qrow was taken aback for a moment by her knowledge and bluntness - she hadn't even turned her head to look at him, yet she knew who he was, and why he was here. Who was this chick?

"Suprised, Branwan? Good. Maybe that'll keep you on your toes, specially 'round here. We're juuuust full of surprises." Her voice was tired, reminding him of himself a little too much.

A chuckle came from the old bartender, his aged face crinkling in amusement. He had a scruffy beard, and scraggy hair, but had a pair of sharp blue eyes.

"You don't have any suprises left, 'Long. You ran out of those years ago, you old shank. Your age must finally be catching up with you."

"Still got more fire than you, Gascoigne."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? You act like him. You look like him. Grumpy, old, worn-out," she paused to take a sip of her whisky, "and retired. Face it Arc, you and I have both seen better days."

The barkeep - Arc, apparently - sighed, with a sad smile formed his face. He held the same look on his face Qrow had often seen Ozpin wear - whenever he dwelled on the past, or looked out at Vale a little too long. Who where these two?

"Unfortunately you're not wrong." He looked at Qrow, who was seemingly forgotten by the Hunter. "If you're looking for people for Ozpin, you'll find more luck elsewhere. Yang 'nd Oz... They never really got on well. Age 'n' time certainly haven't helped. Perhaps another time, when she's more agreeable, and blowing up less bars" The end of his sentence seem directed at the Hunter, Yang apparently, for which he received a grunt and smashed glass on his bar. He sighed again. "Thank you Yang, you lovely stain on humanity." he poked, his voice nearly as dry as Yang's.

"Up yours, Ludwig."

"Shut up." Arc poured out another glass of whisky, maybe in a vain attempt to shut Yang up.

"Make me." Yang dared, taking a swig of her drink. "Anyway, how old are you kid? 20, 21?"

"19." Qrow replied "I'm doin' a sort of... job, for Ozpin."

Arc's eyes went wide. "19? Good Ohm, you've not even graduated yet, have you? Third year, surely... " It wasn't a question.

He shook his head in disbelief. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, getting caught up in Oz's 'plans', kid." His brow furrowed and his eyes sharpened.

A grunt from Yang reinforced Arc's warning. "Be careful 'round him, ya hear?" she said "Seen lotta' good people dead cus' of ol' Oz. Make sure to not add to the pile of bodies."

"Now run along, best not keep from Oz too long - he gets antsy about the young ones."

As Qrow, confused but willing, turned to leave, Arc hollered to him.

"Hey, kid! Make sure you visit again, eh? I know a customer when I see one. Stop by when you need a drink, I'll fix you up."

Qrow, now confused but amused, left the bar. He had a lot of questions for Ozpin. On a similar thought, he had a lot of questions for the two at the bar. He'll be going back to that bar in due time, he could tell.

Maybe he'll bring Raven. She's always wanted to meet a Hunter, after all.

000000000000000000000000000000000

"So... Branwan, eh? Knew Oz probably had his eye on 'em, but pre-grad? Didn't sound like Oz was manipulating the kid, even though..."

Yang hummed in agreement. She never considered when Oz started employing his students - but apparently pre-graduation. Slightly worrying, but she knew that a Branwan could handle themselves.

"You know we both know what Oz was gonna ask, you know?"

Yang took another sip. "Yeah, teachin' kids to be killers. To be Hunters." She held a solom look in her eyes.

"He won't stop asking, you know. If you don't want to do it, I can step in for you. The new semester starts in a couple weeks, I think, but I can work something out with Oz."

"... No."

Arc snapped towards her. "... Yang?"

She stood up, her stool scraping back.

"I'll do it. I've been in this the longest between us, and I know the risks better than anyone. If they're gonna get taught anything, it'll be from me." she started to walk away "I'm gonna go to Oz, agree on a deal, on our terms. You can tag along if you want - I don't care."

Arc was perplexed. "What changed your mind?"

Yang yanked up the lump of iron that was her weapon, ageing as she did so. She held a fire in her eyes - not the spark she had in her youth, but a low-burning flame, confident in her purpose. She spun on her heels, striding towards the door, before she stopped herself.

"He reminded me, of..." Yang sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging. "I'm not gonna let another kid die - or worse - 'cus I didn't do nothin'." She turned around, and looked him dead in the eye. "No more." And with that, she left the bar.