A/N Right about fucking time I did this, no real excuse it should have been done a long time ago, but here we go.

Thanks once again to Jaeger Gipsy Danger for Beta editing. And thank to you for reading.

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Drenched in blood, Taggert watched the corpses of various Grimm dissipate slowly all around him. Reloading his super shotgun, he began the long trek back to Beacon. Ozpin had been expecting a report, and Taggert had no real intention of delivering, he had more significant concerns.

Demons and their legions had been stopped countless times, but with the Grimm, Taggert himself would have no problems. The people of Remnant, on the other hand, faced a bloodbath. No one would make it out, and once the invasion began they were omnipresent, Taggert could only be in one place at a time.

This problem would need to be stamped out before it became a real one. This called for research. The Beacon library was said to have some of the best computer systems on Remnant.

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The library, rows, and rows of near endless reading material, an unnecessarily thick carpet, every inch of spare floor space was dominated by study tables, except for the small bank of computers to the far right.

Remnants best computer system netted almost nothing, the amount of bullshit spewed by random people nearly drowned any facts he could find, not a single concrete piece of evidence to help him find the White Fang. It was almost impossible to find any facts related to the White Fang, the information far too tainted with opinions.

Taggert did what he always did when he needed a clear mind, he thought out his fighting strategy, the train of thought usually went to analyzing his foes, with lack of intelligent his thoughts drifted towards his classmates. There fighting style was as varied as their names, each one wholly unique, minus the endless stream of clichés that they just loved to yell out during a fight.

Then something clicked in Taggert's mind, clichés, with a lack of any substantial knowledge on the White Fang operations he went towards the obvious, so obvious that it was anything but. The industrial area, warehouses, and factories, mainly abandoned ones. A quick search revealed almost a full hundred, Vales Industry having been butchered by recent Atlas innovations. Leaving a large portion of Vales least traveled roads completely and unused, a perfect place for hiding.

Normally such a search would require at least a week and a large portion of Vales standing police and hunter forces, but Taggert was relentless, a couple of nights were all he needed. But first, the Emerald forest still held the occasional minor Grimm.

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Taggert usually didn't plan things, preferring instead to charge in and tear things apart, much like the armless Beowulf flailing uselessly against Taggert's crushing grip, but this time was a little different. He needed to leave enough of something to be able to find the next location to strike. Although he had no doubts that he'd go through most of the White Fangs operations before finding anything useful.

But with more immediate problems at hand Taggert swapped attention from his thoughts onto the charging Ursa headed right for him, drawing his super shotgun Taggert emptied both barrels, turning the giant monster's head into a reddish cloud. The Grimm was already dissolving so when it's dissipating corpse hit Taggert it went through him, rather than into him. Emerging from the fading smoke like a wraith Taggert opened fire with his chaingun, tearing apart a small pack of various lesser Grimm species into bloody chunks, filling the air with the sound of gunfire and pained roars, by the end of the first barrage the air was thick with gunpowder.

Thinking about his plan of attack Taggert was still stuck, with no real idea on how to proceed with the self-assigned mission. His usual method would leave collateral damage, likely removing the evidence needed to target another base, sending him back to searching.

There was the option of tearing everything apart barehanded, it would leave little collateral damage, just a mess. Simple, crude and effective, as far as Taggert was concerned it was the perfect plan.

Taggert had concluded as to how he would attack the White Fang, it only took the complete and total removal of all Grimm life from the Emerald forest and surrounding areas.

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Most parts of the city were alive with traffic, the stores still open and the people still purchasing from them. But Vale's rather impressive collection of warehouses were empty, not a soul in sight. With the single exception of Taggert who was strolling to the first warehouse on the left side of the street, Taggert didn't do much, he poked his head inside the door and looked around. Usually, there was nothing of note. On occasion, he had seen shipping containers from one of the other three kingdoms, but nothing living.

He went through street after street, the whole area was desolate, cracks along the road, the sidewalk, the walls, metal was rusted, and the entire area flooded with litter and the smell of oils and industrial chemicals. It was the fourteen warehouses in, and Taggert stumbled on what he was looking for.

Looking into the building Taggert saw it was packed with activity, the building was as decrepit on the inside as it was on the outside, the whole place was filled with White Fang grunts running around, carrying crates or weapons, some strolled along the gantries on the second floor, rifles in hand, the windows were blacked out with curtains and standing on a platform coordinating the whole thing was a man as heavily built as a hell knight.

Two goat horns stuck out from his head, a pair of swords were attached to the man's belt, his uniform was primarily the same, but it was red rather than white, alongside a more ornate mask singled him out as the potential leader. Taggert would treat the man as if he were the lieutenant for the coming fight.

Some people would have decided to sneak around and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. Subtlety was overrated. Taggert drew his super shotgun and charged straight through the crowd. He fired into the first grunt to recover from their shock, the shotguns boom drowning out all noise in the warehouse for a second, the blast sent their body flying back into White Fang grunts, minus the legs which collapsed onto the ground. Taggert reloaded his weapon and drew his fist back as he rapidly approached White Fang lieutenant.

Bellowing as loud as he could, and likely deafening nearby grunts Taggert roared, "Here comes the night train."

And with that he threw his punch, the lieutenant managed to bring the flat of both his blades up just in time, only for them to break as Taggert's fist went through the swords and continued on its way. The man's nose gave out in an instant with a sickening crunch, blood immediately spraying down his shirt as screamed in agony. His knee gave way. But by then Taggert was on the next grunt.

Taggert ran towards to the grunts nearest the lieutenant, both drew their sidearms. Taggert fired to the man on the left, turning his head into red vapour. The second Grunt only got in a single, impotent, shot before Taggert swiped his legs out from under him Taggert then lifted his boot up, and then slammed it down, converting the head of the poor sod beneath him into red paste.

A few, heavy shot slammed into Taggers shoulder, drawing his attention to the now recovered Lieutenant, the remaining White Fang behind him, seconds away from firing a barrage of fully automatic fire. Most would run for cover, Taggert drew his chaingun.

Not bothering with aim Taggert bulled the trigger on his weapon at the same time as his foes. The White Fang fired, their rounds whizzed through the air, some missed, most hit but bounced off, the occasional shot managed to find purchase in weaker areas of Taggert's armour, punching through and into the man beneath the suit.

Taggert ignored the burning pain lancing through him, and with a raw of anger continued to fire his weapon. The chaingun's unending barrage of firepower tore those he hit apart into hundreds of bloody chunks sometimes outright cutting people in half with the sheer hailstorm of firepower that he unleashed, those he hit screamed in pain, but all other noise was drowned out by the unrelenting firepower Taggert held in his hands.

All good things come to an end, and eventually, the White Fang forces paled in horror when their weapons clicked empty, and Taggert kept firing. When the bullets stopped flying the warehouse was carpeted with corpses, the White Fang Lieutenant and Taggert being the last two men standing. The last terrorist was trembling with horror, his weapon clattered to the ground, his fingers no longer able to maintain grip, he was completely frozen with fear. Taggert drew his Chainsaw and slowly walked to the man.

Once he reached the maximum range of his weapon, Taggert calmly spoke. "Where can I find more White Fang bases."

The Lieutenant, far too terrified for defiance or lies, stuttered out "M-Mt Gl-Glenn, t-t-the Rail- Railway system."

Taggert nodded, then revved his chainsaw, the Lieutenant screamed in terror and turned to run. But Taggert slammed the blade of the chainsaw down on the top of the man's head, sawing through the skull Taggert continued down, making his way from head to crotch with a shower of blood and gore. Once he finished his cut the two sides of the corpse collapsed, the man's remaining intestines spilled to the ground.

"Mt Glenn it is then" muttered Taggert as he started to walk away, gently whistling with his chainsaw blade resting on his shoulder.

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A/N And there we go, done and done. Hope you all enjoyed this long overdue chapter. Now, what shall happen at Mt Glenn, what will Taggert find. Well, we know what he'll find. Or do we? I sure as hell don't know.

Thanks once again to Jaeger Gipsy Danger.