A.N. Okay, please review! C'mon people! Anyway, the story is getting more intricate and some more about Michael will be revealed. Also, this is where the M rating will definitely come into play. You have been warned, and if this chapter offends anyone, I apologise. If anyone thinks that I wrote something down wrong, then I again apologise. Please tell me if that's how it is, so that I can fix it in later chapters. Anyway, read and review.

The next day had continued without a hitch, and Michael had used it to catch up on lost sleep. The others wisely left him be and he only woke a few times. He didn't have any dreams, but instead was mostly aware of his surroundings. A ringing from his scroll alerted him and he sat up as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He opened the call and was greeted by an unknown caller. He changed his voice and tested it. It was a much deeper, rumbly voice. It would do. He opened the call.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"Your employer," a voice said over the phone. It sounded female, but it could have been altered. "One of them at least."

"You better have a good reason to call," he said. "I'm a busy guy."

"You know I wouldn't call unless it was necessary," the voice said. "We will pay you handsomely. Also, you came at a high recommendation."

"By who?" He asked.

"Don't know," the voice said. "The only name we had was Tartarus."

"I see," Michael said. This was different.

"Affiliation?" he asked.

"I'm with the government of Vale," she said. This must be big if Tartarus was contacting a government. Vale specifically meant that it was around here.

"Where do I meet you?" he asked. "And don't ask me to anyplace away from the city."

"I understand completely," She said. "There is a back alley that has a small bar. I trust you know which one?" It was a usual meetup for his contacts.

"Yes," he answered.

"Meet me there," she replied. "When the guard asks, say bloodhound."

"Understood," Michael said. The call ended and Michael turned to the mirror. He was still in rather normal clothes, but he didn't want that right then. He moved to the closet and pulled a bag that was usually was used to hold a suit. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans, a white tee shirt with a black celtic knot. He pulled out a different jacket. It was a jet black leather jacket and had a hood on. It had some low density body armor, and on the back was a figure in a black ragged cloak. It held a cruel scythe, and it's head was a grinning skull. He slipped on the jacket and pulled on a pair of black sneakers. He slipped Twisted mirror into his inside jacket pocket, and pocketed his scroll. He opened the window, and dropped to the ground. He hit hard, and rolled to his feet. He pulled up his hood, and reached into another inner pocket. He lifted out an eyepatch, and placed it over his left eye. He stood and walked towards the edge of the school. He walked into the forest, and once out of sight, began to run. It was darkening quickly, and he had a way's to go.

As Michael walked through the back alleys, he began to gradually change his face. His chin hardened and scar tissue ran under his eyepatch. It was hastily made and Michael wasn't to good at it, but he could make scars. He twisted his nose to make it look broken and made his face more sunken. He reinforced his muscles just in case and turned one last time. The bar he was looking for was right where he remembered. It was old, run down, and filled with all manner of criminals. It was the main recruitment place for Tartarus. It wasn't known formally, but everyone knew that in the slums. Police would leave it be because it got most of the small time criminals off the street along with the "Street Rats" that would grow to join groups of thieves or end up dead in the gutter. He walked into the bar and sat down at the bar.

"What can I get you," the bartender asked.

"Water for now," Michael answered. "I'm here to meet someone."

"Got it," the bartender said. "I don't suppose you're waiting for a girl?"

"Not really," he said.

"Just don't wreck the bar," the bartender said with a sigh.

"No promises," Michael said. The bartender handed him a glass of water and Michael watched the mirror that was behind the bar. A small group of kids walked in. They were a little younger than Michael, and they were obviously drunk. There were three guys and one girl, and Michael could see that the girl was faking. She then slipped her hand in one of the guy's pocket and slipped out his wallet. Michael smirked. It wasn't the first time he had seen that. She'd probably get them too drunk to stand and then ditch.

One of the boys walked over and put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Hey bud, yer in ma seat," he slurred. "Why don' ya move." Michael was trying to work with this rough persona, so simply backing down was out of the question.

"Why don't you go find another place to seat," he said. "Or better yet, go home to mommy."

"Ah don' like yer tone y' piece o' shit," the kid slurred. "Why don't ya move before y' end up hurt."

"Like you could do anything," Michael scoffed. The boy turned him around and swung at his head. Michael effortlessly caught the fist in his open hand. He applied pressure and the boy grimaced. He increased the pressure, and the boy sank to his knees. Michael released him and turned back to the bar. He watched the mirror carefully as the boy stood up and stumbled back to his friends. A new guy walked into the bar. This one was different. He was in a suit and looked every bit like a businessman. He sat at the bar and looked over at Michael.

"Excuse me," the man asked. "Do you by chance have a dog?"

Michael watched him out of the corner of his eye, "Yeah, I have a bloodhound."

"I see," the man stood up. "If you would follow me." Michael stood up and followed the man out. They walked down the alley and made a few turns into a much more isolated area. The man reached into his coat and Michael immediately acted his fingers sharpened and elongated as he pushed them in front of the man's throat.

"Pull it out of your pocket. Slowly," Michael said. He'd been double crossed to many times to let the man have the benefit of the doubt. Especially because he couldn't sense anything from him. The man stopped and slowly pulled out what looked like a key fob to a car. He clicked a button and a piece of the wall slid away. He replaced the key and began to walk into the opening. Michael returned his fingers to normal and followed him.

"I see you made it," he heard. He turned to a raised platform and saw an attractive woman that looked like she was in her late twenties. She had long brown hair tucked up in a bun and bright blue eyes looked out at him. "I was worried you wouldn't make it."

"I might not next time," he confessed. "I almost killed this guy 'cause I thought he betrayed be."

"At least you're cautious," she answered. "But it wouldn't have mattered." She pushed something on her watch and the man collapsed. He then stood up again and pulled off his head. Underneath was a simple metal skeleton and Michael gave a look of disgust at the figure.

"That's atlas tech," Michael said.

"Good eye," she said. "It cost a pretty penny for it." The platform began to lower. "There won't be many people with us. Am I to assume that is your real face?"

Michael smirked. "You could, but you'd be wrong."

"I see," she said with a frown. "Would you mind reverting to your actual face?"

"No," he said. "I am in the habit of keeping what I actually look like a secret."

"Understandable," she said. "What should I call you?"

"Bloodhound," he answered simply. "Who else will be joining us?"

"Me," he heard. He turned to see another woman walk in. This woman was much smaller, at about five feet tall. She was very petite, and her green eyes were hard. Her hair was also a bright green and a few freckles sat on her nose.

"Then let's get started," Michael said. "I'm a busy guy."

"Sure you are," the new woman said. "And if she didn't tell you before, I don't care. I'm Sage and she's little miss official."

"My name is also not going to be given," the first woman said. "You may call me Saff."

"Like Saffron?" Michael asked. She nodded. "Fine. Now why am I here?"

"There have been several kidnappings recently," Saff said.

"Really?" Michael said. "That doesn't happen often. Nope. It's not like easily half of them just ran away."

"Take a look," Saff said. She slid handed a folder to Michael and he opened it. "What do you see?"

Michael flicked through them quickly. "All girls. None younger than twelve, or older than sixteen. Most from the slums of town where they're easily missed. Spread out all over the slums too. Not much family for most of them. No one to miss them."

"He's quick," Sage said.

"No," Michael said. "I'm knowledgeable. I've seen stuff like this frequently, and most of it isn't how it seems." He turned back to the info. "All of them are rather attractive, I'd think that these were abducted for sex slavery?"

"That's what we were thinking," Saff said.

"But why call me?" Michael asked. "And wasn't the slave trade completely taken out."

"All except for Tartarus," Sage huffed.

"Tartarus doesn't have slaves," Michael said. "They have what you would call debtors. And several laws protect them from unjust punishment and sexual attacks. Believe it or not, many go to Tartarus as willing debtors."

"But why would they call us?" Saff said. "Could you explain?"

"Life in Tartarus is different than here," Michael explained. "You have to have function. They have no homeless, and no unemployment." He set closed the file. "Debtors are given tests. The smart ones are sent to schools where they learn to help the officials, the strong are trained to fight as guards or champions. Those that would fight for their pay are sent to the arena to fight students as training, or as sport. No deaths, but significant help or hinderance if you win or lose. Those that are singled out by those who would be their sponsor are taken to help as paid servants. The leftovers are used to provide menial labor."

"Sounds like slavery," Sage said.

"No," Michael said. "It's closer to adoption and giving them chores than slavery. Workers only have to stay in the workforce for a year. Fighters train and can become guards or the law keepers. Smart ones can become government officials, or teachers. Those who are taken into a household can leave after a year and start by themselves, or they can continue working in that family, often getting officially adopted."

"So they don't have slaves," Saff clarified.

"No," Michael said. "It's a crime. Those that take advantage of the workers, by punishment or sexual advances, are convicted and sentenced heavily. Crime is a different matter. Theft is almost a game. You steal something, fine. You get caught, you give it back and pay a fine and nothing else. Killing is also fine when in self defence, and if you have a grievance with someone else, you can challenge them to a duel to the death. They can appoint a champion, but they would be killed instead of the champion."

"So it's just barbaric," Sage said.

"Maybe to you," Michael said. "But it's mostly centered around self preservation. You protect others because everyone fights. If one dies, then you have less that can fight the Grimm. Because they understand this, they fight together, and they often win in Grimm raids. The city is split with walls so that if one section falls, they can cut their losses and latter reclaim it. Criminals that are convicted for large crimes are sent out to the field."

"The field?" Sage asked.

"Basically," Michael explained. "They're given their weapons and thrown out in the middle of Grimm territory. They can fight their way back, and if they do, they're on probation for a while. It's super rare though. Most die fighting, and thereby reduce the Grimm forces. Nothing and nobody is wasted. Everyone has a purpose."

"Back to matters at hand," Saff said. "We were tipped off by someone in Tartarus."

"That's because they officially stay neutral," Michael explained. "However, if it's a big affront to their morals, they aren't opposed to working under the table."

"So they gave the info?" Sage asked.

"Yeah," Saff said. "Here is the leader," she handed a picture to Michael. On it was a shot of a woman who was probably in her mid thirties. She had hair blacker than anything Michael had seen and her eyes were hard, yellow and seductive. "She's the one. We believe that she has a hypnotic semblance of some kind. She routinely finds men to bring to her 'services'. She then gets pay from it with her 'workers'. We think that's what she's going after."

"And why did you contact me?" Michael asked.

"Our source said that you'd be willing and the best one for the job," Saff said.

"Fine," Michael said. "If it wasn't a huge deal, I usually would have turned something this low scale down." He stretched. "But this time, I think I'm in. I kind of have a soft spot for kids."

"Good to hear," Saff said. "But this isn't going to be a usual just break in attack."

"Okay now what are you doing?" Michael said.

"We don't know where she operates," Saff explained. "So we need you to get in. The best way is for the leader to bring you in herself."

"So what," Michael said. "You going to remold my face into something she likes?"

"Well that and everything else," Sage said.

Michael sighed. "One; the clothes stay on. Two; I cannot change my pigmentation. That means my hair will stay black, and my eyes will stay red."

"Fine," Sage said. "This is what we're looking for." She held up a drawing that was very well done. It was in pencil, but was still amazing.

"Did you draw that?" Michael asked.

"Yeah," Sage answered. "Why?"

"It's really good," he said.

"I'm not looking for your approval," she huffed. Michael rolled his eyes and began to alter his face to look like the picture. "No, that's not right." Sage said.

"Well what do you want to do?" Michael asked? "It's not like the face will be remembered. No one but the hostages will live through this."

"You need to keep them alive," Saff said.

"No," Michael said. "If you look at any contact that I have, I don't leave any loose ends that I can remove reasonably."

"You can't just kill them!" Sage exclaimed.

"But I can't let them live!" Michael yelled. "I have lost too many friends because I leave a loose end. I do not let any guilt live. This is why I am a last resort contact with the government. None of them will live."

"We can hash this out later," Saff said. "Bloodhound, can you make your face the consistency of clay?" He nodded. "Sage, do what you can to fix his face."

"Alright, sit down." Sage commanded. He sat down and she reached for his face. She began to carefully mold it into the shape they wanted.

Saff paced the floor. "If all goes well, she'll take you in. You need to play along with her until she gets you in."

"And then they die." Michael said. "And you can't convince me otherwise. Especially with the crimes they've committed."

"You can't!" Saff said. Michael smirked. "It's not in your hands anymore. You also couldn't get me on anything either. I say the word and their neck snaps." He allowed his face to harden as Sage finished. "Think of it as the assholes getting their sweet justice." Saff sighed as she realised that she had no more say.

Michael felt a little bad for the way that he talked to the two that were giving him the mission, but not about his response. There was no way that he would let those criminals get away with it. It wasn't petty theft, this was full scale sex trafficking. It would not stand. Michael sat in the bar that he had been sent to and waited. He had a glass of something alcoholic, he hadn't paid attention to what it was, but it was strong. He was having to force his liver to work overtime to cope with it. At this point, he may need to make another liver. This could take a while.

A woman walked in and he knew immediately that the target was her. She looked around and saw him. He raised his eyebrow and she smirked. She walked over, swaying her hips seductively. He'd be lying if he said she wasn't attractive. In reality, she was gorgeous. The only problem was her eyes. They were cold and unfeeling. Predatory even. Michael never could trust those eyes.

"Hey handsome," she said. "How's the night?"

"Don't know yet," he said. "Though that could change though."

"Then how about we go somewhere more…" She purred seductively. "Private."

"Sure," he drained the rest of his drink and felt the buzz of alcohol go through him. He followed her and felt another presence press on his conscience. Might be her semblance. It was distracting. She dragged him down several alleys to an old warehouse. He was getting through the alcohol steadily, but he still was a little tipsy. The pressure on his mind didn't help. She opened a door and his nose was assaulted by the scent of sex. He shook his head to clear it, and she smirked. She pulled on his arm and he allowed her to pull him in. He carefully took note of what was going on. He heard a few screams and he clenched his teeth. An old man stepped out of a room, and he was pulling a girl who was not more than fourteen out.

"What is this place?" Michael wondered aloud. He still wasn't in full control yet, so he couldn't make his move yet.

"A place for fun," she said. "Now please excuse me while I get into something more comfortable." He leaned against the wall. His head was pounding. He couldn't make his move yet. "You ready?" He heard. He looked up to see her still in her clothes. "I'm not waiting any longer." She lifted a gun and quickly emptied three shots into his chest. He stumbled back and hit the ground hard. He gasped out. She knelt down by him.

"They have a saying," she said. "That saying is that some things are to good to be true. A perfect man like you? Nope." She said. "It's a shame. You know, we've been thinking about going after someone more exotic for this kind of work. That heiress should be a fun one to use. She came to Beacon, but a few bits of knockout drugs and she'd be ours. I'd make a fortune off her. If you had just waited to come a few more times, we'd already have her and we'd be able to make a deal maybe. Bad timing for you." She sighed and cocked the gun again. "Oh well."

Michael felt something rise inside him. They were going to go after Weiss? These sick perverted psychotic fuckers were going after her? No! "You're dead." He snarled.

"No," she said. "You are." She shot him in the face this time and he slumped.

The pain was giving him an anchor to pull himself together. The pressure began to lessen and he began to heal. Who was this bitch? He could care less about what anyone said. She'd die slowly and painfully for threatening Weiss. He sat up and unnoticing, plates of bone began to grow over the bullet wounds. He sat up moved to his feet. "You're dead!" he snarled. She turned and he roared as his teeth lengthened. She quickly fired again and it hit him in the eye. He snarled and it reformed. He leaped for her and she ducked. Men began to step out of the rooms and watched as he began to change. He sailed over her head and began to grow, plates of bone running down his spine. Something to hit the ones he wanted to. He needed to protect the little girls wherever they were. A tube of bone sprouted from the top of his wrist, extending over his hand. He pointed it at one of the men who was watching. He was still naked and Michael snarled. He didn't know how, but he did. A shard of bone was launched from the tube, impaling the man. The others shrieked and Michael wasted no time. He launched several more spikes and impaled each man as they tried to run. He felt another bullet to the back and he turned. He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. She screamed as her arm went limp and was twisted the wrong way. Michael looked out for other auras and each one that did not belong to one of the ones that the woman had kidnapped, he killed. A snap of his fingers to focus it and each one of their necks snapped. Screams of fear echoed through the building. He opened his mouth. "DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOORS!" He snarled. He pulled out his scroll and sent a message to Saff.

-M- You may come and retrieve the hostages.

-S- Received.

He turned back to the woman. "You will pay," he snarled. She was openly crying in pain. He noticed how much aura he had used. He began to drain hers. He breathed out. She was scum, but he hated torture. Why would he use that? He snapped his fingers and her head twisted all the way around, snapping her neck. She collapsed to the floor and he turned to the doors. Saff and Sage both opened the door and several police officers strode in.

"Grimm!" one shouted and they opened fire. Michael dove away and swung his hand. Each officer's weapon shattered as he twisted the barrel tight enough to break it. He began to change himself back as he gasped out in pain. As the bone plates shrank away, he pushed the bullets out of him as the wounds healed.

"Is this why you don't like loose ends?" Saff asked.

"Yes," he gasped. "But how did you get here so fast." He straightened as the pain began to recede. "Did you have someone follow me?"

Saff blanched slightly, "Yes," she acknowledged.

"Was there another person who was working with you that I didn't know about?" he asked.

"No," she said, but Michael could feel the lie.

"Don't lie to me!" He shouted. She stumbled back. "Was it someone from Atlas?" He used his semblance to scan around.

"No," she said again, but still it was a lie.

"So it was someone from Atlas," he said. "Don't lie to me. I can always tell if you're lying." He looked around. "Doesn't matter. It just proves that I can't trust you guys." He began to walk away.

"We told you not to kill them," Saff said.

"And I don't care," Michael said. "Leaving them alive would be a waste of time and energy. They don't really pay for their crimes. It's a waste. Better remove the rotten parts. Some people are unable to be saved. Those that cause their own problems, especially those that cause problems for others and endanger those of innocents, are irredeemable. I would know, I've been unable to atone for my mistakes."

"But still," Saff said. "They need to be taken before the law!" She exclaimed.

"They don't play by the rules!" He yelled. "They aren't afraid of the law." He began to walk away. "Do not contact me again unless you absolutely have to. I don't take kindly to those who break my trust." He walked to the door and heard the hammer of a pistol be pulled back. He turned and as the shot of a pistol sounded, he reached up and the bullet hit him in the hand, being enveloped in his flesh. He pointed it towards the man who had shot and pointed a finger. The bullet blasted out of the tip and embedded itself in the man's leg. The hole from the bullet in his finger reformed. Michael turned and walked out the door as the man's screams of pain echoed through the building.

Michael changed into a tee shirt and jeans that he pulled out of a public locker. He tossed the clothes and dropped them off at a dry cleaning place. They'd end up back at his dorm. He began the long trek back to Beacon so that he could begin classes again. Beginning to pick up speed, he continuously watched the horizon to see the sun had already risen a while. A ding on his scroll interrupted him.

-B- I see you're out. Could you get me a book while you're out? Call it my favor.

-M- Sure, what do you want?

-B- Go to Tukson's book trade. He should have one of the books I was looking for. I placed a call a while ago. Just say you're picking it up for me.

-M- Sure thing.

Michael turned and began to walk around, looking for the store. Guess it would take a little longer to get back to Beacon.

A.N. Alrighty! Finished the chapter! Please don't hate me for this chapter, but please review. Anyway, have a good day!