So! Here we are, the sequel at last! Sorry if it took absolutely forever, but it's here at least. Hope you enjoy it!

Hmmm, there seems to be an upset amongst the locals. A train accident? A gathering? There will need to be something done.

But the Horsemen are not ready. They are still distant, luxuriating in Egypt. What to do...

*crack!*

... *ROAR!*

Blink. Stare. Blink. Stare.

Close eyes. Sigh. Open tired eyes to stare some more.

"Ma'am?"

Eyebrows raised. Slowly, she turned around to face tired quicksilver eyes towards the intruder. Someone she knew, someone concerned, someone into many special secrets of hers.

She turned back. Not dangerous enough to bring her out of tired contemplation.

"Ma'am, you need to get yourself some sleep."

Blink. Glance at cup. Alcohol never helped, but she'd been trying. Maybe a little too hard. Glass was empty.

Dry swallow. Watch as once again, two of her daughters smiled and laughed, teasing each other.

All the worse that it was a good memory, because it only served to remind her once again that one was shot dead in her arms and the other is declared KIA, but was actually missing. Both were huntresses. Both mothers.

Cold touched her hand, and she reflexively gripped. Glance. Clear liquid in simple double old fashioned glass, assistant's hand on the back of hers.

She mechanically raised the glass to her lips and began to swallow, then nearly choked on it. She gave her assistant a surprised, accusing glance. She smiled back innocently. "What? I brought you some water."

"This," She began, indicating the clear liquid in her hand. "Is not water."

"Yeah, but 'Vodka' means 'Water' in Russian." Still the innocent smile.

Her vision was already swimming. She wasn't a hard drinker in any sense of the word (unless it's some sort of sports drink or water after a heavy workout). "Mimi," She didn't get to say anything else before Mimi decided to stop her with a kiss.

They stayed that way for a while.

A noise perked an ear (instinctive reaction to sudden sounds), and she smoothly slid a finger in-between Mimi's lips and hers. She cocked her head and tried her best to hone in on the sound.

"What is it?" Mimi asked.

Eyes narrowed in further concentration. Another sound, a moan, and she started to panic. Next second, before her panic became obvious to her assistant, a second moan followed by a grunt, and suddenly the familiarity clicked into place and she groaned and settled back into her chair. She shook her head in fond exasperation. "Just George and his other in a closet nearby."

Mimi gave a disgusted grunt. They knew each other well enough that Rin could immediately identify the grunt. Not disgusted by the fact that George was in love with another man, that issue had almost never shown in IDT. "Honestly, are those two ever going to show themselves as trustworthy enough to have a single hotel room to themselves without breaking the furniture?!"

Rin chuckled. "Probably not. And it doesn't help that Max is a half Rabbit Faunus, half Lab Rat Faunus." Then she felt her shirt be pulled off her boobs, then underneath, right before they were attacked, pulling a groan from her, and with the alcohol in her system, she wasn't about to complain. "Of course, it's not like we're any-" she gasped in surprise and arousal before finishing her sentence. "Better." she then huffed at her assistant who was giving her such an innocent expression. "Which is entirely your fault, I might add."

Mimi just gave her a demented grin and before putting that mouth to more pleasurable uses.

She lay back, happy for the moment as her assistant, the only person left who cared in a personal way, gave her something she knew she needed but could never ask for.

Because she was Rin, CEO and Founder of Ice Dus-Tech, the leading company creating amazing, if controversial technologies and processes, and she was almost the baddest motherfucker in the entirety of Vale. Perhaps all of Remnant. And she would prevent The End from coming even if she had to spear herself to do so.

As for 'almost'?

That title belongs to the most powerful women on Earth.

The Horsemen.

"Come on Rose!"

Headphones went flying and a single quicksilver orb glared at the blonde for daring to interrupt her concentration.

Well, let's be honest here. She wasn't really doing anything important, but did her favorite brawler really have to knock her expensive and good Christmas Gift headphones off her head?

She sighed. "What is it you wanted, Dragon?"

The happy expression died off to concern. "I've been calling for you for the past 5 minutes. What's wrong?"

She closed her eyes and shrugged. "Nothing much. Just," She sighed. "Just trying to find Summer."

"It's been a few years, Rose." She said softly.

Rose just chuckled, knowing her tone as being slightly defeat-est. "Yeah, but we both know we've been gone for longer from each other with less skill and less experience and we've turned out okay."

"...Yeah."

"Besides, she's out there, her rifle shining in the sun, sword on her back and whip on her hips, probably bloodstained breeches, just like how her white cloak must be by now. Though, it's probably black, not white or brown or red."

Ash Dragon didn't respond, even as her nose itched, leather gloved hands tightened and creaked, and toes tapped against the floor.

They sat there, quietly looking out at the stars.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"How did that song go again?"

"Dust or to gold, but you will remember me?"

"Yeah, that one." Man, that was an old song. Not quite as old as they are, but they'd heard it in their teens, way before the greater majority of their stuff ever came to fruition.

"Feeling nostalgic? Old? Decrepit as our mistakes try to make us pay for them?"

"Kinda. You?"

"Oh yeah. Although, Vermillion was a long time ago."

"And VU even longer. Though I hope you still have that jello recipe."

"Of course I do! What kind of child would I be if I didn't?"

"The old kind?"

"Hey!"

"Remember, we're getting a move on in an hour!" He shouted. Shoulders held squarely, worn breastplate trying to glisten in the sun past the damage and 'polish' of metal and stone giving rugburn, greaves still more or less grass-stained as his gloves tried to stay true to their original color of Day-Glo Orange (they were now embarassingly Sakura Pink) past the oil stains from helping to maintain the various trucks they'd salvaged, and gleaming shoulder-length straw-blonde hair that several of the women were jealous of even stuck to his body through sweat as it was (in his mind, it made him look like a yellow-haired indian, or a hippie, and he hadn't gotten around to getting it cut like his son).

Grunts of exertion nearby had him turning his head. A couple of the girls were trying to get a large wooden crate onto the back of the flatbed they were next to.

"Trying" being the operative word. They'd probably over-packed it, again, which meant it was a little too heavy to lift as-is. He shook his head and went over to help them out. It took them a few tries, but they finally managed it.

"Thanks dad!" The young woman waved at him as she ran off, smiling as she ran to meet her friends before the caravan's moving time. He smiled after her, wondering again how he could be so lucky. He was the father of several beautiful, kind girls, and a father figure to most of the caravan, and almost every single person here loved him.

But then his smile faded as he remembered the bad hands and hard pitches life had thrown at him. Seeing what happened to Rose after her failures with The Hunters of Vermilion. Arella. Watching as a good friend of his died by Grimm because of a stupid mistake.

The fact that, no matter how much he tried, he couldn't escape one of the most recent legacies of the family. Runaways, who seek to prove themselves. So far, they always seem to come back improved, more mature, more of a man or woman or soldier or warrior or angel or whatever than they were when they left.

He did not want this to start to go wrong with his son. Jaune was always a man in his eyes, from the way he always took a mature stance, even if he always felt he had to stand on his own and match the legacy set by his family, great-grandfather on down.

John had left on his own journey years back, and come back improved, and thoroughly embarrassed. But, he was humbled, and this time when leadership fell to him, he was prepared, and he was a better man for his woman. The foundling warrior was much impressed with how he'd improved, and loved him all the more.

After smacking him around a bit first, of course. She was always the better fighter.

He could only hope and pray that El Shaddai would watch over his son, and bring him back a better man than he'd left, and that he, John Arc of the Enders Family, leader of Hunter's Haven and (more recently) the caravan of Haven, would be a man worthy enough to have a son of a quality that could outshine anything the monsters of Enders could ever produce. Because he knew, from the bottom of his heart, that Jaune truly did fit that mold. Being the youngest of 8 was not something that John could understand easily (being an only child), nor could he help but feel that it had worked, in some slight way, to grind the man he was down, lower his self-esteem and individuality, the good parts of his pride, and make him more subservient, and that this journey would bring back some of the self-worth they had unintentionally worn away.

At some point, he'd wandered off, and now he was sitting on a cliff, watching the sky as it lightened to a yawning pink from midnight blue. Well, not pink. He hated pink, almost as much as Rozeer always had. But this? This was more... well, Dawn covers it well enough, but for this particular moment Salmon covers it more perfectly.

"So, what's on your mind?" A familiar female voice cut through his mind-fog.

He looked up, blond hair in the way for a short second before he saw concerned yet vibrant olivine eyes he could get lost in above a face and smile sunnier than the star that shone upon their broken moon. He gave her a slightly watery smile as he spoke. "What makes you think I'm thinking about something? I could be thinking about, well, I could have nothing at all in my head."

Her smile grew a little brighter for a second at his joke before dimming as her concern returned, and probably from the fact that she'd been trying to keep him from self-deprecation for years with little success, and his words just now rubbed her face in them a little. "We're about to move out, we all know it. There's something on your mind and people are worried. But, since we're pretty much done with packing and fueling, the most pressing concern is the song."

His brow furrowed against his will for a second. "What song?"

She sat down next to him at the edge of the cliff and said, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Every time we leave a campsite, we have a song which you lead us in." Well that was news to him. "In fact, there's a betting pool on which song you'll sing and we even keep one flatbed somewhat clear for the dancers."

His head reared back a little as he gave his loving wife a very odd look. "Dancers? What dancers?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "When you asked them they said it was so they could watch around for Grimm, but everyone knows they just want to dance to the music."

"Really?" He asked, genuinely astonished. "Why hasn't anyone told me?"

She gave him yet another look. This one said, "I love you, but you are a complete idiot, and everybody knows it. Shamelessly."

Then her mouth moved to form the words, "There's a betting pool there too. Several bets involve you never finding out that they dance as everyone's getting moving, because they love the adrenaline of dancing to music on a fast-moving vehicle in the open air. The only real reason you never noticed was because you are completely oblivious."

He blinked at her, trying to process.

She sighed at him. "How long did it take you to realize that I liked you before I told you?"

He opened his mouth, closed it to think, then sighed in defeat. "Yeah, you're right. Completely clueless."

"So, whatcha thinkin' of?" Another mature female voice asked as she plopped herself down on his left.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to hide it with the Valkyrie matriarch questioning him alongside his lovely wife, he sighed and gave in. Sort of. "Thoughts. Worries. Remembering teachers and lessons."

"And what was the focus more on today?" A solidly manly voice asked behind him. "Perhaps how even centuries later, a person can know your name? Or perhaps of war, and leadership?"

For some reason, that tickled his brain, and his eyes narrowed. He tilted his head back to look up, and up, and up at the man behind him, Ren's father, Bruce, was looking at him like a particular type of bug or Grimm. Or like he wanted something... "Are you trying to make a suggestion for our 'leaving song'?"

"Told ya he'd take Pyhrric telling him to find out." Darcy told the towering slab of manly muscle smugly.

"Shush you." The patient man replied to the woman he sought to marry. They were both single, after their respective others' passings, and since the children were off to learn...

"Well, I think that the mistakes we make can make others remember us." John said in reply to Bruce's question as he prepared to stand, which was then cut off by said martial artist picking him up by the armpits and landing him solidly on his feet.

"Good." Darcy said with an authoritative nod. "Because I can't dance to the words 'Come with me now' nearly so easily as the others, and I want to dance today." she froze, realizing what she'd just said in her leader's presence.

Said leader just chuckled. "For that, you get Grimm-Watching duty on the empty flatbed." He said to the armored "bunny" with a sly smile.

She visibly deflated with a relieved "phew". Like she'd dodged a bullet or something. I mean, really, she could be just as airheaded as he himself was sometimes.

His smile turned to a full on grin as he saw his traveling tribe packing up and awaiting his orders. He was truly proud of them. "Alright, people, let's hit the road! Grimm-watchers, to your flatbed! We need to be extra-careful today!" He said, though he tried for an oddly knowing tone as he directed people to the flatbed, which he could now see how some of the scuff-marks had been left.

A cheer went up and he went over to his old, beat-up, and somewhat rusty homemade but still sturdy vehicle (specifically rebuilt to closely resemble his old Subaru Forester, painted silver with rust-colored accents) and climbed in on the left, with his lovely wife in the navigator's "shotgun" position (which, funnily enough, she had made a shotgun just for travelling in that seat) and started the engine with a satisfying growl before he clicked on the intercom and loudspeakers before gunning the engine, which purred into a roar as he started to sing, with his wife starting the song with some humming.

And then, top of their lungs, they shamelessly sang along, even if they were somewhat off-tune.

Even as the words to Fall Out Boy made him remember all his friends, his family left behind in the good ol' U.S. of A., the Hunters he'd met, worked with, and lost. Including Summer Rose.

Even as all the bad memories came to mind, they also faded away just as quickly, the strength of Centuries also giving him good things to remember, like his favorite quartet. Katherine, Ashley, Doctor Kalt. His little Rosey-poo.

And then The Glitch Mob came on with Our Demons, and he grinned at his wife. It was one of the good playlists on, and they were going to enjoy it as much as they possibly could.

And no matter what the songs may remind them of, their mistakes, the legends they'd left behind them, the monsters and demons they have created, the years they have lived good or ill, the jubilation that they've had so far can and will outshine it all.

And unbeknownst to him, yet more was to come, hardship and triumph.