"I still think this is a bad idea," Ironwood said pacing the room gloved hands locked behind his back. "Giving that much power to a loose cannon is absurd. You're on thin ice. Don't make things worse for yourself."

Ozpin ignored his friend fingers steepled under his chin. Round two. These meetings were growing more unpleasant and truth be told, he was still seething from his last teleconference with the Board of Vacuo. Even though Roman Torchwick was behind bars thanks to the combined efforts of his students, something about the thief's demeanor and attitude as he was arrested unsettled him.

This is why I gave Crest peer authority. He can't function with red tape. He needs room to work. But James refuses to see that. He goes in guns blazing we'll never get to the bottom of this mystery.

"Are you even listening to me-?"

"I'm not deaf James. And yes I'll admit what I did was risky. But my decision stands."

His scroll beeped. Glynda's face appeared on the screen. "Sir? Mr. Nighthawk's arrived."

"Send him in."

Ironwood stopped at the window overlooking the sprawling campus. Pretending to admire the view.

The door whooshed open and Crest entered at the same time Ironwood turned to face the man whose reputation was bordering on legendary. As usual his black, crimson and silver studded attire made his fiery hair pop, the Nevermore claw dangling from that greased leather thong around his neck and earrings...along with that dark, monstrous destroyer strapped to his back transported the military man back in time. For a split second he wasn't standing in Ozpin's office in modern day Vale but in the middle of a smoking field littered with mangled bodies of men and Grimm alike. A solitary figure stood proud and victorious holding his mighty weapon loosely in one hand.

Bare-chested.

Splattered in his enemies blood.

In the distance bestial shouts punctuated the haze enveloping the insane massacre before his stunned face and he began to tremble. The warrior sensed his presence and slowly turned to face his new prey. Glowing demonic red eyes burned into his soul...looking like the center of both were lit by a strange bluish-white light. Like the hottest part of a fire...like heat seeking missiles, like-

Nighthawk?

Then it was gone. He was back in the present. Safe. But the image stayed. Holy crap. What...what just I see? The young man approaching Ozpin's desk didn't belong here. He came from a vanished era. Medieval? No. This was way before the knights existed. He's too vicious. He belonged to a violent more turbulent period of history found safely in books, detailing great legends and myths that inspired many generations of huntsmen. But they don't exist today. They can't. He refused to entertain what he sensed Nighthawk was. It's impossible.

"What the hell Ozpin?" Nighthawk stood wide-legged, fists on his hips. Pissed his time with Weiss back at the library was cut short. The taste of her skin lingered in his mouth, permanently inscribed on his palms...under his fingernails. That-along with the dark need to further his blood war against the White Fang-fueled the hard gleam frosting his strange purple eyes. Cold fury seeped into his voice. "What the hell? I was busy."

The familiar way Nighthawk called his old friend in his deep rough voice jolted Ironwood out of his trance. Who in Remnant's name does this boy think he is?

"Young man you will address us with the proper titles-" He stopped cold at the huntsman's dead stare.

"You can go General." Ozpin's quiet tone had the force of an order and-military to the core -Ironwood stiffened. Gave his old friend a curt nod then marched from the room back ramrod straight. This man made him uneasy. He was furious at this freak dismissing him with a single glance. Like his medals and rank and years of dedicated field service meant almost nothing, regarding their prestige and his pride with less respect than it deserved. And James Ironwood despised uncertainty in any form. And it doesn't help Ozpin's going senile.

As soon as he was gone Ozpin sipped his coffee. "You'll need to forgive James. He's not used to you yet."

Crest banded his large arms across his massive chest. And he never will. I know his kind. "Whatever. Don't like him." Reminds me of that dick Leroy. And something don't smell right. So he decided to file it away under the "check later" folder.

"I get your point Crest, but he's in charge of security." Ozpin leaned forward bracing his elbows on his spotless desk. Rested his chin on his folded hands. "As you know, the Vytal Festival is nearly upon us. With Grimm activity on the rise the safety of our citizens and visiting teams is top priority-"

"First of all," Crest interrupted. "The tourney ain't my problem. It's yours and the suit's. Two I've been tracking a bunch of Fang activity on top of my Nevermore harvest. Since the girls crashed Candlestick's party, they've gone off the grid. If there's a surge then they've been real sneaky about it. But..." A crooked smirk tugged at his mouth not bothering to hide his malice. "That makes things fun."

Ozpin raised his brow at the younger man's coiled lethality. Fun. Not the word I'd use...but ok. Shrugging off the icy sliver of unease that crept into his gut he spun his chair to face the window and moonlit grounds. "You mean-"

"They've packed their bags. Moved away. So I'll be heading out soon."

"Just you?"

Crest shrugged. "Maybe. Got a problem with that?"

He tried again. "I don't doubt your fighting prowess son. Or your intelligence. But being a team leader carries a heavy burden."

"Tell me something I don't know pal. And spare me the lecture." A wild light started to flicker in the depths of his startling tyrgian purple eyes. Threatening to erupt into battle ecstasy. Doesn't he know this is the reason I hunt these dogs alone? So I don't lose anyone else. Like, for God sakes.

Dammit. Headmaster Nodare warned me he'd be a challenge. He tried another tack. The last thing he needed was an angry beserker going on an all out rampage, destroying everyone and everything in his path. Starting with his office...and him. "Please. Hear me out. When I appointed Ruby to lead her squad I did so because she needs to grow as a person. Badly. She's a sweet caring girl, but in battle and social activities she has a loner mentality. I see that in you. Even more so. That's why I want you to compete in the tournament. You already qualify so you don't need to participate in the prelims."

Crest tapped a finger against his thigh. "The hell with this Ozpin. You know what it's like to be alone. Screwups so bad ya never leave the bags on the dock. Mistakes ya wanna forget. Change em if ya could." Like what happened to my family... He quickly shoved those brutal, bloody images aside.

Each word hit Ozpin right in the center of his deepest regrets. Too many to number. All of them throbbed, demanding atonement he couldn't provide not even if he lived a hundred lifetimes.

"I'm not judging you for any of that. But I need a man of your talents in the field more than ever. And I believe putting you in the matches will allow us to keep an eye on the ground. Make sure nothing bad happens. Which means the only person you report to is me. I can't afford..." The white-haired man trailed off staring at a point behind Crest's shoulder.

"What?" Does he think I'm gonna pull a Ruby? Be some 'hero' dashing off to save the day? Pffft. He closed his eyes annoyed. Yeah right.

Ozpin sighed catching him off guard. That's odd. He ain't the dramatic type.

"What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room. Am I clear?"

He nodded.

Motioning Crest to move closer, Ozpin lowered his voice. "Things aren't looking too good for me right now. The Board of Vacuo contacted me recently. They aren't...happy with my decision making as of late." Yep. Figures. Them douches don't miss a trick. The beserker pursed his lips. They jest love to rub your nose in their power stink. Like Ironingboard.

"So when the Festival is over they're going to administer a performance review."

Crest cocked his head. "O-kay, so what's this gotta do with-?"

"I will only be permitted to retain my position as Headmaster," he continued, "if certain accusations leveled against me can be resolved in a satisfactory manner. If not-"

"You're done." Great. Just great. Crest jammed his fingers through his thick spiky hair. Not again. I've got nowhere else to go if he's fired. Except into the wild.

"There's always a room for you here. Don't worry about it." A small smile lifted Ozpin's thin mouth. "You get the run of the place. Besides you're missed when you're not around."

An image of a pale ethereal slip of a girl with a sharp tongue and guarded heart flashed across his eyelids. Why her? Of all people why's it gotta be an icicle? Like the last 20 times he asked, his logical mind came up blank. So far she hadn't slapped him for his pet name Snow. Or yelled as much when he appeared out of nowhere. Do ya think she...likes it when I do that? Likes but doesn't wanna show how much?

Uh...ATTENTION STEIN. Did ya SEE the way she held onto you back there? Let ya feel her up?

Refusing to rise to the bait he smirked back. "Remind me to stock the wahmbulance on blankets, tissues and wine. Y'all can pass 'em out while I'm in the field."

Ozpin let the blatant hint of a certain Schnee heiress' obvious attraction toward the dangerous man drop for now. "Get some sleep Mr. Nighthawk. You won't get much in the coming days."

Crest turned and walked out of his peer's office. Bjornserkr seemed to give a low howl as the door hissed closed. Or maybe I'm too sleep-deprived. Weapons don't come alive. They can't. It's absurd.

A/N: Hey guys sorry for the delay. I appreciate all the support with all the faves/follows. Work eats away at my time so I can only work on this and upload it when I've actually got time, lol. So enjoy y'all. Reviews are appreciated! :)