The man cocked an eyebrow at her quizzically. His laughably large mustache, oversized glasses, and strong odor of overripe oranges only added to the absurd caricature.

"Uh…you…"

His face lit up and he snapped his fingers.

"Ah yes! You're the witch, correct? Ozpin's sexy little minx of a secretary?"

Glynda Goodwych was not amused. In fact, she could swear she was about to burst a blood vessel.

Glynda Goodwych was not a secretary. She was not the Academy bookkeeper, accountant, or/and walking trophy. And by all the gods in Heaven and Earth, she was not and would never be Ozpin's sexy little minx. Where the hell had people gotten that from?

OK, maybe the rumors had a point.

Glynda…was…a secretary. At this point and time in space.

But that didn't mean anything! Secretaries had enormous power. Why, in fact, way back in history, there was a man who had used his secretarial credentials to usurp the central government and rule an Empire of millions!

And the minx thing…

She mentally chased away the disturbing image. No need to make things even more complicated as they were, already.

Glynda was not excellent secretary material. She did not enjoy being ordered around. She did not, as a rule, like people. Her usual replies were tactless and blunt. So, at this point and time, it took all of her willpower to not punch the weaseling…big…man in the face.

Instead, she smiled. Awkwardly. Murderously.

Ozpin was going to pay for this.

"Yes…Procopius. I'm Ozpin's…sexy little minx. And now, if you'll excuse me…"

The man laughed heartily, whole body shaking as he waved over a waiter.

"No, of course, not at all! But, my dear, are you sure you wouldn't like to regal me with grand tales of the Venator project? Or, perhaps something…alcoholic to warm up?"

The lecherous leer he was sporting was now downright criminal. Glynda shook her head, in a firm no.

"I'm sorry, monsieur. A lady has her…things to take care of."

The man looked vaguely disappointed, then shrugged, wobbling slightly. The resemblance to Peter Port was quite uncanny. She turned to leave, but suddenly, the man grasped her hand and pumped it vigorously. Glynda tried to suppress a horrified shriek as the man lifted up her hand and brought it to his mouth. He began wailing theatrically.

"Oh, fair maid, please do not forget me when you leave! Please, my poor heart would not be able to bear it! Here—"

He struggled something in his pocket, and clumsily extracted a card.

"All my information, flower of beauty. May we meet again!"

He have a deep bow, causing the fake hair he had on to partially peel from his scalp, exposing the sweaty back of his head. People were actually turning around and looking at Glynda with a look of almost undisguised pity.

Her face red, she all but ran out from the ball.

…

"Sexy little minx? Really?"

There was an extremely undignified sniggering from the other end of the comm-line.

"I needed something that would draw your attention. Something unforgettable."

"There is a way to undergo a dead drop, without the use of cheesy lines. My answer is still no, Headmaster. I will not go on a date with you."

There was a theatrical sigh.

"Ah, flower of beauty. Truly, is it ever so unattainable."

Glynda simply rolled her eyes at this. Gods. Men.

Still…she was slightly curious.

"So…Procopius. I was not expecting that."

There was a light chuckle.

"Mmmm…yes, he does leave an impression."

Then, the voice was serious.

"You understand how big this matter is. Byzas rarely gives out information in person. Cogs are moving within cogs. Our actions—"

"Decide the fate of nations. This is indeed a heavy message you bear, Miss. And in such a depressing environment."

Crack

Immediately, Ozpin cut off the audio link. In the darkened alley, below the Weeping Moons, Glynda turned around. An almost invisible silhouette hung in the background.

"Hard times call for harsh measures. And high technology sometimes miss low means."

"Mm. Makes sense."

Glynda opened her hands, in a gesture of peace.

"I am Glynda Goodwych, and I bear a message from Ozpin himself. He extends a hand of peace. And you?"

The man fully stepped into the light. His eyes burned intensely.

"I?"

He grinned.

…

"Sector 115A decontamination complete. Beginning repopulation protocols. Sector 2456D showings signs of incomplete repopulation. Recommend…"

Cold. Dispassionate. Calculating. All excellent traits in military personnel.

The man opposite her shook his head.

"Are you sure, Ms. Goodwych? That nothing I do can tempt you away from the Venator?"

Glynda smiled. It was genuine, but it was a smile without warmth.

"Thank you, Strategoi. But I am content with the position I hold."

He snickered.

"Please. Always I am Mercury. Mercury to my subordinates, and Mercury especially to an esteemed guest as yourself."

"Mmm. But still. I would not want to impinge upon hierarchy."

"If you insist."

He shrugged, and swept his arm over the table length screen. Glynda watched him for a while, without comment. Then, as he maneuvered a virtual regiment (the Valiant 13th, the small marker displayed) behind a distort, Glynda clenched a fist, and the dimensional rift the regiment had been using to cover their movements suddenly expanded and swallowed them up. The Strategoi's nose flared in surprise.

"The Jende people have an uncanny ability to sense spatial distortions. In fact, I believe they utilized the same tactic in the First Servile War, to great effect against the royal forces."

Mercury shook his head, then sat back ruefully.

"That tactical sense. That respect for the past. The Valyrian military needs more people like you."

Glynda paused at this.

"If I may? Speak freely?"

The green haired man waved casually.

"Go ahead. Again, I emphasize, we are equals and siblings, Venator and Belii."

He did not flinch, even when Glynda abruptly slapped her hand down the table. A line of black, all Faunus troops, marched at her command, storming down human positions, crushing garrisons…

"Alert! Massive enemy troop movements detected. Code Red Emergency. Alert! Massive…"

The announcement grew ever more urgent, designed to add to simulate real life combat stress of. But Glynda did not watch as her almost victorious troops stormed across the board. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Mercury.

"This is a farce."

This got the Strategoi's attention.

"Excuse me?"

Glynda pointed to the board again and repeated what she said.

"This is a farce. You are one of the most decorated strategists to have ever lived. You overhauled the Valyrian logistical corps, purged the cabinet of corruption, and during the Thirty Days of Silence, you managed to carve out an entire pseudo-kingdom in overwhelmingly hostile territory. I am a scientist, an Auric manipulator. There is no doubt I could kill you with a blink in single combat. But in this? Mass movement of material? Command of grand strategy? This is child's play to you, even after…your incident."

Mercury arched a single eyebrow. Then, in one swift move, he snapped his fingers.

The entire board exploded in a nuclear holocaust.

"Yes. Yes indeed."

He stood, ramrod straight. His playful persona was gone.

"Your accusations are serious. Vale is no longer the power it once was. Our colonies are gone. The land has been sickened, wasted by the Grimm. A mere hundred years ago, we had a population of almost 25 million. Now…"

He rubbed his eyes.

"They are not an enemy we can combat conventionally. The arcologies will fall, one by one, eventually. And, when that happens…"

He gestured to the digital fire, and sighed.

"Not all hope is lost. Remember Atlas-63?"

"Mm? I'm sorry. I cannot possibly remember every minor purge."

Glynda's face was grim, and Mercury frowned.

"It wasn't minor. It wasn't minor at all."

…

Sorry for the horribad chapter today. Wrote it when I was half-asleep. Classes are a bitch. Quality will probably pick up in two weeks time, when shit in my life is over. Until then, enjoy my daily 1000 word drivel.

Again, plz review, even if it's terribad. I feeeeeeeeeeed on them, and I need fooooood to continue my daily words.

And, more seriously, reviews are the only way I can really understand what, you, the reader, wants. As of now, I really have no idea what is going on too, and have no real motivation other than to pump out a thousand words to improve my ability before I turn my attention to other, more serious works I want to complete. I've been literally making stuff up on the spot for the last three days, with no real motivation other than to get a thousand words or more a day. So, you know, if you actually enjoy this piece, now's a chance to scream out where you want to steer the story. A favorite is awesome, but all the favorites in the world won't tell me what I'm doing that's so awesome and what things I'm doing that aren't awesome. And really it's slightly impersonal. As in, slightly hard to care about. You hold the power to review. Use it.

It's almost like voting, in a way. Abuse it! Power to the people!

Fooooooooood.

Review!

Trivia: This has actually been my least favorite chapter so far. Weirdly, it's also my longest. I didn't get any buzz out of writing this, although it might have been that I only started at something like two in the morning and so all the juice had been drained out of me. Still, I take my duties of 1000 words seriously, so I'd really like some reviewer to come in and tell me how they thought this chapter stacked up with the others-better? Worse?

Consider it a personal plea.