I am in the lair of a headmaster who thinks he is an evil overlord.

This was the conclusion Zaffre St. Patrick reached as she stood in front of the headmaster of Beacon Academy For Grimm Pacification. She was used to the pomp and parade of kissing bureaucratic ass from her once upon the time in army, however, so any misgivings she had barely even made her eyelid twitch as she met her superior's gaze just about head on, while standing at attention with her hands behind her back under her patchwork cloak.

(Proper procedure specified however that one's eye contact should rather be aimed at your boss' forehead. It would never do for an underling to try and match wills with the man holding your paycheck.)

All the same, when Zaffre was going to meet Professor Ozpin, she had the general impression that he was a very down to earth type who had his head screwed on properly. Not unlike her current company, with that skittish rabbit faunus who left behind a trail of destruction with every step she simpered, or that backwater huntress trainee who seemed to operate on a different wavelength than the planet, or god above, Phthalo Shamrock Dartmouth.

"Mis St. Patrick, before we begin, I must ask: will your friend be alright?" Ozpin asked, more amused than concerned, as he stretched his neck slightly to look over the edge of his desk. The woman Zaffre overheard was named Glynda stood loyally at his side, wearing an expression of barely restrained resignation, knowing that the display before her was nothing new in Beacon's history, yet she was going to see more of it in the future, to her dismay.

Zaffre didn't even look down beside her, "Eh, she's probably faking it."

"Zaffy... Darling... bury me in the land of my forefathers... and don't let my mom know... she'll laugh at me..." Someone moaned by her feet.

The drifter had almost convinced herself that Ozpin's base of operations would be a normal, functional office somewhere in the academy. You know, something sensible. But no. Zaffre was standing probably a good three miles in the sky because Ozpin did his work from the tallest tower of Beacon.

And it had a theme.

Above her, Zaffre could hear the bass groaning of gears rotating in harmony, levers clunking deeply, and a whole clockwork arrangement moving in polished brass parts, a swirling, circular machine waltz synchronized with another display of rotating cogs of similar artistic make below her feet, sealed off by a glass flooring, so the whole thing wasclearly decorative. As if that wasn't enough, the big man's massive desk was not mahogany-oak thing that would be appropriate for schoolmasters, but a nice lean modern piece, with a glass surface and more decorative cogs and gears.

So Zaffre was about to work under a man who had a view of his academy with a sort of "lord of all I see" vibe, and his office had a unifying character theme because he thought he was important enough to instill an image of himself into the external environment.

That was not a good sign.

Zaffre had to wonder when she would be due for her "performance review", which would actually be Ozpin's opportunity to kill and replace her with a clockwork robot copy. Well, she wouldn't go down without a fight first!

But that wasn't really the matter here. The matter was that, being so high up in the sky again, Phthalo was once again playing dramatic about the air quality at this altitude, and was once again spilling all over the floor, gagging and gasping out of sheer dramatics, and Zaffre had to stand there, in front of her boss, being associated with her.

Evil Overlord or not, Professor Ozpin seemed to be nonplussed at his new employees, "I suppose so. Now, I have given you a quick version of the expectations I would be placing on you if you will be working here, but do you understand what that means?"

"We do, sir," Zaffre responded, "I understand that besides my duty to maintain Beacon's facilities... and hers to assist in supply transfers, a portion of our salary will be going into a tuition to facilitate our Hunter training, and we will also be expected to participate with other students in training exercises as they occur, regardless of our... age differences. At the end of the requisite four years, we should be receiving certification that will allow us to access the hunting career field."

"Just about," Ozpin, that calm, spectacled man said, "Now, I won't go so far as to have you to sit in at theory classes with the other students, but I will expect you to study on your own time. But as you say, you will be treated as a huntress in training, and that includes being there for your future team when the situation arises. Do you understand?"

That was broad. The "situation" of their "future teams". The big man seemed to see far beyond the walls of his school. He didn't speak in terms of class activities, and didn't think in terms of project teams. Because the Grimm out there were not stopped by the students with high scores, but the hunters that stood by each other, hell or high water.

Well, if he had that vision, perhaps things here would work out.

"Yes sir. I'm not huge on kids, but I still know how to be a team player."

"And you, Miss Dartmouth?"

Kneeling on the ground on both knees, shoulders slumped like some carving of a tragic heroine, Phthalo raised her head and a thumb.

"Yehsir... I will be the bestest requisitions-Grimm-murder chick I can be. Of all time...!"

Zaffre didn't even bother to hide her opinion then, "Urrrggh."

Ozpin nodded as if he understood, "Excellent. In that case, I would like you two to attend Initiation tomorrow. It's our method of assigning new trainees into teams for the duration of their stay here, and it would simplify things greatly if you took part of the same event."

The drifter shrugged, not entirely sure if it was a big deal or not, "Uh... okay?"

"It will, however, including staying overnight with all the new students in our ballroom. Rooms are not allocated until after Initiation."

Predictably, Phthalo was all over that idea.

"Ooooh! A sleep over! Boys on the left side, girls on the riiiight...~"

Zaffre meanwhile was more concerned with the latter half of her new boss' statement.

"What, we don't even get our own rooms until after?" The blue haired woman asked, slightly aggrieved. She at least got an janitor's office, right? Janitors got offices, right?

"For two reasons," Ozpin answered, "First, letting the new hunters share a space together, no matter how short, starts the groundwork in forming the integral relationships vital for the success of a hunting team."

"And the second thing?"

"It's better to provide rooms after we know which trainees survived Initiation."

Well that wasn't just all ominous as fucking hell. I guess I won't have to wait for performance review. He just collects the carcasses from this "Initiation" and replaces them with clockwork robots then. Joy.

This man, honestly. Just when you thought he was alright, he suddenly says shit like this and you just can't tell if he's nice headmaster or an evil overlord. Or perhaps he sat on intersection yet unknown to human morality and ethics. Bah. Survive Initiation, huh. Zaffre still didn't know what it entailed, save the "survivors" would be put into teams. Probably involved, who knows, wrestling trolls or something.

Zaffre understood, still. Other schools, even Boot Camp, they could teach you to run, to be fit, to use a knife, to fire a gun, but Beacon was the best of the best, and it didn't have time to play nice where the Grimm was involved. The moment you stepped foot here, lesson one was already in session.

For the strength of the pack is the wolf and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

The implications were clear for those who looked for it, "We are giving you a day, a whole day, to know people as dedicated and talented as you. These are your potential teammates. If you can't put aside your expectations and find someone to cover your back tomorrow, then you're going to find that all the training and grade As in the world won't save you from what's out there."

The big man was seriously serious about Hunting. Even if he was obnoxiously obtuse about the lesson plan. But hey, money talks, and Zaffre was made of smoke in the wind, not stone.

Phthalo meanwhile piped up again, managing to always cut to the heart of an entirely other manner.

"Hey, Big Man, does that mean we're not gonna get written contracts till after Initiation? Should we consider this the second interview? Man, I never got past my firsts... lab boys always said I didn't 'dress professionally'..."

Professor Ozpin's lips rose for a moment, but returned to a state of professional detachment, "On the contrary, I have them here. You can say that I have faith in your capabilities."

Ozpin produced the sheets from the inside of his jacket to place and slide across his glass table. Something about it produced a gravitational hold on the chemist who had been playing mostly-dead at Zaffre's feet, and it immediately made her leap back to life and skitter towards it on her knees, and rush her name across its signature line. Then she decided reading it.

"Holy shit, Zaffy! Take a look at these zeroes, darling! We got a company credit line!"

"I prefer to trust real money," the drifter muttered, leaning over the desk to calmly sign her name over the dotted line. The years outside had rendered even the muscle memory concerning her signature into a vague mushy scribble, "zffstptrk". The terms of service was the usual spiel. Represent the academy, don't be stupid, tell us when you're taking a vacation, you're only allowed to do this or that, unless it's this or that, blah, blah, blah...

"Oh-ho-ho-ho! I'm gonna get a kiddie pool and fill it full of Fairy Dust... it's going to be amazing...! Phthalo's Jacuzzi of Science...!"

Zaffre quietly turned her head just enough so her eye could look past her nose to observe Glynda Goodwitch. Frankly, if the deputy head mistress' glared any harder, her forehead was going to collapse over the rest of her face.

Of course, whatever she could detect with her one eye, Ozpin could pick up with his two, and casually spoke up, "Glynda, if Miss Darthmouth's is ready, it would be best if you direct her to Montressor in Resources."

A vision of an immediate future bereft of the green clad imp roused the woman to action, and she strode forward with purpose, "Naturally. I will see you at the ceremony then, Ozpin. If you would follow me, Dartmouth?"

Phthalo chirped some sort of agreeing noise and followed after, tempted by the word "resources", while Ozpin spoke to Glynda's departing back.

"Don't forget to speak with Miss Scarlatina."

"Of course."

Zaffre's eyebrow rose as she turned from Glynda and Phthalo, back to her boss, who had risen from his chair and began walking, cane in hand, "While they're off, I should be making my way down to get ready for the opening speech. Would you care to accompany part of the way?"

"Sure," Zaffre shrugged as she turned and started shadowing him, "You don't mind if I smoke as we walk?"

"Be my guest. The elevator has excellent air filtration."

The two moved out of the office, and into the small antechamber used to hold waiting clients and the polished brass doors of the elevator, apparently already at the bottom, and finished being used by Glynda to transport Phthalo out of her hair. As the two waited for it the return to them, Zaffre brought her long stemmed pipe to her lips, with a few idle finger wags activating its flame again, and was off again puffing away until she edged out a question. Casually.

"What's up with Scarlatina that you have to ask Goodwitch to talk to her?"

"It's nothing significant. She just happens to fall into a specific case of new students that we need to assist before tomorrow."

"Hm," Zaffre noncommittally responded, trying to gauge Ozpin's explanation.

Why the need to eyeball Playmate? What's her big deal? Is it 'cause she's a faunus? Granted, on the whole, I wouldn't be next to one of those furballs unless I was in a superior position, but Playmate ain't done shit yet.

"Worried about your friend?"

It was only due to extensive practice and knowing the quick casting to isolate the smoke that just went into her lungs that Zaffre avoided choking with shock. Instead she exhaled slowly, letting the black trail drift by her as she followed Ozpin into the opening elevator, and stood side by side as they descended.

"She's not... she's a cool kid, but we just had a weird night together, I don't... think..."

"Take a moment to compose yourself. I'm sure you'll be able to deny your attachment to Miss Scarlatina if you calm down."

"Hmmrrrgggh."

Very funny.

Zaffre wasn't entirely thrilled, but she recalled Phthalo's words on the life raft and knew she was right. The stuff that happened on the Cassandra at Dawn had joined them together, and it was making her start to become sympathetic to the rabbit.

Zaffre hoped it was just the Sexy Pheromones. Then it clearly wouldn't be her fault she... cared.

"Still, I wouldn't be surprised if you felt a little bit indebted to her for inadvertently providing you this job. She managed to change a number of lives in the course of a single day."

"She just caused me problems, far as I'm concerned," Zaffre grumbled, mostly in futility, "Dragging me along for some rescue mission, getting attacked by a Grimm, getting set on fire..."

"And where would you be now if she had not met you? If not kidnapped and forced to fight, then you would still living on the streets, destitute."

Zaffre snorted loudly at that fairy tale image, "Hey, I lived in that park for a year just fine, with perfectly good people. Just because I have more now doesn't mean I had less back then."

"A worthy perspective," Ozpin said, nodding agreeably, "I feel there is something I must ask, though."

"Fire away, big man."

"How long had you been living homeless?"

"Five years," Zaffre answered straight, for a straight question. Days and nights on the road, in the streets, nothing but the sun on your skin, food in your mouth, and the weight on your back...

"I see... and you weren't able to find employment until then?"

The woman eyed Ozpin for an instant, unsure what he was after, "No."

"Then your last post was in Vale's military."

"...It happens. Homeless vets aren't anything new in this world. I'm sure you a few tragic tales of Hunters who couldn't take to 'forced retirement'," She answered hesitantly.

"I do, and it does happen, but I didn't believe it would for a former member of the Smokehounds."

...Damn it, this is where he's going? Zaffre bit back a growl, and balled one of her fists.

" Sergeant Zaffre St. Patrick, joined Vale's military at the age of seventeen," Ozpin continued, "You were scouted and trained as a support caster, before being inducted into the ranks of the 42nd Grimm Recon and Patrol, known as the 'Smokehounds'. Until your discharge."

"That's what the public file says, sir," Zaffre muttered.

"But what does it not say, Miss St. Patrick? Your unit used to do good work with Hunter teams, helping support them when your paths crossed, and providing that much more intel on the movements of the Grimm. Not being recognized is one thing, but to be thrown out without even a pension?"

Zaffre controlled her breathing, and managed make something akin to a smirk.

"'Used to'? They're still an active unit."

"In what sense? That they haven't been formally deactivated on the records?" Ozpin calmly returned, while Zaffre found she couldn't stop herself scowling at her boss, "I know how to ask around, and no one can recall any real activity at the Tinderbox base in the last five years. No one has seen a member present at military exercises or general meetings, any attempt to contact them are only met with officials giving vague responses. For all intents and purposes, the Smokehounds disappeared from active duty five years ago, the same time you were... discharged."

Ozpin turned to look at her, "The space between the lines are very wide, Zaffre. Something happened to the Smokehounds that they've been reduced to a unit on paper, and the one member found all this time has been eking out her survival as a vagrant, without anyone noticing. What happened?"

"What are you trying to get out of this, Professor? Trying to get the hunters to hold one over the military after all this time?" Zaffre muttered, "I didn't get a job here just to be used for power plays."

"This isn't an 'us and them' situation. Anything that endangers humanity or its guardians concerns me, and the blackout on a unit that bridged the gap between our two forces is extremely disconcerting. I'm looking for the truth, that's all. You can trust me. I just want to help."

Zaffre controlled her breathing. She had to. The big man may or may not have had good intentions all this, but it didn't matter. The simple fact was that it didn't matter to him in the same was it did for her. He didn't know what his questions meant.

(She could remember... She remembered.)

For him, it was... just a mystery. A "concern". But Zaffre stood there in the descending elevator, trying to keep her mind unclouded, compartmentalized, trying to shake off the panic that was trying to force her heart into overdrive and cause her brain to burn itself out from overacting neurons.

Count to four... inhale... count for four... exhale...

Breathe. Just breathe, lest you give it all away and just made the headmaster that much more curious, trying to understand things he couldn't know. Breathe. It was all she could do when she could feel the char and blood sticking to her face like paint.

Pain Pain Pain Being Dragged Can't Move Can't Talk Trying To Cover Me No Cover Trapped In A Kill Box So Stupid So Helpless I Can't Do A Thing-

You? Please don't go. Not for this. Not for me. Not here...

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. Zaffre stepped out, with Ozpin following.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Professor, Sir. If the Smokehounds haven't been deactivated, then they're still in service," the drifter ground out, words like razors in her throat, "If you've heard otherwise, I wouldn't know. I've been a homeless bum for five years, remember?"

Ozpin wasn't even surprised, simply nodding again as if they had some small talk they decided to agree to disagree on, "I understand. Remember, I am responsible for my staff. If you require assistance in any matter, don't hesitate to bring it to my attention."

"Naturally..."

"I must take my leave now. Try to rest and prepare yourself for Initiation tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

The professor trained his gaze on woman for a second longer, as if he wanted to speak further, but ultimately turned to pace away and disappear into the hallways.

Zaffre stood by the elevator, unmoving, breathing evenly. She worked so hard her one eye couldn't see anything in front of her. Instead, her ears recollected the crackling five years back.

She could hear the flames, rising amongst the branches. A smoke screen and barrier all at once, they were trapped...

"Shut up... shut up, shut up, shut up..." She gasped at the air, and threw a palm into the wall, balancing herself while the panic in her heart transmuted into pain, trying to drown her, rising up in her throat.

Her small pipe clattered on the floor, abandoned, while her other hand grasped its longer combative sibling, and she pulled it out into the open air. She fired a round off, and eagerly brought the pipe to her lips, sucking in enchanted smoke so she could breathe out a panicked casting.

"Wish... Wish You Were... Here."

The smoke coalesced into her humanoid familiar, floating at the ready.

"Hold me..." She managed to choke out.

Zaffre could feel something wrap around her back and her shoulders, physical pressure against her body like she was being hugged, but it was neither warm nor real.

But if it helped her survive, then it was enough. All she deserved, anyways.


A/N: ...Nothing happened this chapter. NOTHING HAPPENED THIS CHAPTER. And I still feel like I'm dragging this arc out! Maybe I can say I'm getting better at this "short chapter" thing... All the same, it's the same explanation as last chapter. I didn't sit right having this sequence sit with the next scenes.

Rumination on character names:

I mostly picked them off wikipedia in combinations I thought joined together nicely, barring Bell, whose name is mostly just a direct reference to her fairy tale (Yes, there is a St. Patrick's blue). Still, I found it rather uncanny that one could argue Phthalo, Zaffre, and Mithril have a unified theme, in that all the colors are derived artificially, manufactured, or are otherwise fictional. Nothing more appropriate for a team of original characters, yeh? (Doubly appropriate for a chemist.)