Disclaimer: I do not own Rwby. It belongs to Rooster Teeth. I do not own the characters that appear in the show and manga. This is simply a fanfic, my own story based in the Rwby universe, and with many of my own characters.

Some years in the future

Menagerie burned. A raging fire swept through the city, burning the wooden houses and leaving devastation in its wake. There was no promise of rain in the night sky to alleviate the destruction, to save some part of the Faunus's island. The sky that should have been black was stained with the orange light of the flames, the smoke choking the air as the Faunus navigated their way through the blaze, trying to make their way to the harbour. But a second, more feral danger had infested the city.

Drake launched himself into the flames, slamming into a manticore just before it pounced onto a group of Faunus. "To the ships!" Drake roared at them as he activated his Semblance, a black avatar forming around him, taking the appearance of a humanoid dragon.

Drake and the manticore Grimm attacked each other amid the blaze, ashes scattering as they clawed at each other, snarling. Drake's tail then suddenly stabbed forward, impaling the Grimm, which promptly disintegrated. Drake roared into the sky before shutting his Semblance off and dashing back into the city.

His black clothes were ripped and stained with blood, most of it the blood of fellow wounded Faunus he had carried to safety. His red robotic tail swung behind him, white spikes projecting out along its length. He could still remember the agony of losing his tail, the mind-numbing pain that plagued him for months afterward. He could feel the dozens of old scars covering his body, could feel twinges of pain as he aggravated them.

The heat and smoky air forced Drake to hold his sleeve against his face, coughing as he tried to breathe. He could dimly hear the screams of the Faunus, hundreds, perhaps thousands fated to die tonight. Grief flooded Drake, quickly shoved aside by rage and fury. She will pay for this, Drake snarled to himself, pressing forward through the fiery wasteland.

As Drake ran through the city, directing the surviving Faunus to the docks and slaughtering any Grimm he came upon, he saw hundreds of bodies strewn over the roads, their corpses black and burnt, or bloody and raw, torn apart by the Grimm.

Coming upon a pack of a dozen beowolves feasting upon dead Faunus, Drake snarled and drew his dual swords from the metal case on his back. Jumping in amongst them, he lashed out with his blades, cutting through the Grimm, tail thrashing. One by one, they were killed, and their corpses dissolved into black smoke.

Drake stood panting and coughing over the last beowolf as it dissolved, his lungs burning as he inhaled the smoke from the air. He sunk to one knee, leaning on his swords, as exhaustion struck him. He struggled to lift his head, as sleep began rapidly encroaching upon him. Need...to find...more…survivors. Drake staggered to his feet, vision swimming as he began to move forward.

Hours passed as Drake searched the ruined city, his exhaustion climbing. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, Drake stood at the harbour, breathing in the cool, fresh air, his throat and lungs burning from the smoke. He had just escorted a large group of Faunus to the ships here, fighting dozens of Grimm along the way.

"Drake," Aaron spoke up, walking up beside him, "no one else has come for an hour. We need to go."

"We need to do another sweep," Drake rasped, turning to head back into the nightmare.

Aaron grabbed Drake's arm, holding him back. "Drake, our men are exhausted, the Grimm are starting to gather here and we need to get the wounded as far away from this hellhole as soon as possible," Aaron told him, his voice firm. "We need to go."

Drake gazed at the smoking remains of the Faunus refuge, seeing black shapes moving between the wrecked houses, a teeming mass of fur, claws and hatred. Then he turned away. "Let's go," he said softly, slowly limping away towards the dozens of ships docked. Aaron followed, calling out to the other Faunus to fallback. Hundreds of warriors began to slowly stream back to the ships, all of them sporting some kind of injury. All had the same haunted, broken expression as they retreated, leaving too many friends and family behind.

Drake climbed onto the gangplank of one of the ships, his limbs heavy as he staggered forward, rapidly blinking his eyes as they watered. As he reached the end of the walkway, he didn't notice the step to the deck. As he fell forward, he was caught by someone. As they embraced him and slowly lowered him to the deck, leaning him against the railing, he smelled her familiar scent, and relaxed into her, closing his eyes and resting his head into the crook of her neck.

"Are you ok?" She asked worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine Weiss," Drake rasped, before devolving into a fit of coughing. As he regained his breath, he asked her, "Are you ok?"

Weiss sighed in relief. "Yes, I'm fine."

They held each other for a minute, exhausted. Drake began to drift off to sleep, the gunshots and roar of the ships cannons fading away, until he felt a tugging sensation on his face.

"Gods, how did you get so dirty?" Weiss scolded him. Drake smiled as he realized that she was cleaning his face.

"That's what happens when you fight in middle of a fire," Drake hoarsely told her. Cracking his eyes open, he gazed into Weiss' blue eyes. Then he noticed the dirt and grime covering her face. "And besides, who are you to talk?"

Weiss shook her head, continuing to wipe his face. As she cleaned, Drake noticed that she was using her sleeve, and that it was black with soot. "Uh, you wrecked your dress."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "It's a combat skirt. And it's fine, I have a dozen other ones. Now shut up and hold still."

Drake smiled, closing his eyes again and leaning back against the railing. As he felt the deck vibrate beneath him, and then heard the ship's engines start up, his smile disappeared.

"We lost so many tonight," Drake whispered. He felt Weiss stop cleaning his face. "How do we ever recover from this?"

Weiss hugged him tightly, her comforting scent filling his nostrils. He buried his face into her hair, tears beginning to form in his eyes. Beneath them, the ship began to move, pushing away from the docks. It was quickly followed by the other ships. The dozens of ships already out at sea increased their rate of fire, bombarding the city, giving the retreating ships a respite from further Grimm attacks. Yet despite the hopeful first rays of the rising sun, the mood on the ships was much darker.

Menagerie had fallen.