Cyprus woke in a cold sweat, his body sticking irritably to the fabric of the bed sheets, and he cursed as he lifted himself up and out of the confines of the uncomfortable placement. He could hardly be bothered to rummage around for some clean underwear after his shower the night before, and so he sat on the edge of the bed, his naked body feeling awkwardly exposed despite nobody being in the room, nor able to see him through the small square windows that lined the walls. He peeked out, his hips down obscured by the woodwork and watched the street.

The weather had cleared but still left a dreary overcast, conveniently fitting the tone that covered the town like a thick blanket. The citizens were sparse, despite it being well into the morning, and any that passed each other on the street gave little more than a nod in acknowledgement to one another that was a clear sign the recent events left their mark. The vigilante could hardly blame them for being so affected, in a village as small as this, it was likely everybody knew each other fairly well.

Shaking his head, he made his way to the bathroom to rinse off the sweat that clung to him like moss to a stone. And checked his Scroll for any messages, which reminded him to be sure to send a report to Ozpin before they left, before Scylla was combat ready once more. He hadn't noticed it in all of the commotion, but his attention was finally drawn to his arm in the shower, and he grimaced at the sight. His elbow to his index fingertip was lined with scars, faded but fresh maroon lines that splintered and moved in a jagged pattern, and with the steady glow of his Aura surrounding it just faintly, it was no wonder he felt so exhausted. The protective barrier around him had to first regain it's own strength, then must have worked tirelessly through the night in order to heal his singed form, the stiffness of his movements proving it still had a little while left to go.

As a matter of fact, it also explained his extreme hunger. And so Cyprus soon donned some simple clothing and threw his gear into a bag, his weapon left inside the cosy, minimalist room. One awkward and rather anxious walk through town later, himself feeling eyes pinned on him like lasers the whole way, he finally opened the door of the clinic. The building was small, with a cramped waiting room with posters and medical tips covering the wall enough that the original colour underneath was almost completely hidden, where a teenager chewing gum sat aloofly behind a counter.

"Excuse me, I'm here to-" Cyprus asked

"She's in the back, go on through." She replied, abruptly cutting him off.

He shrugged and shook his head as he moved past her, his ears focusing on the shuffling sounds that occurred past the open doorway. The next room was a simplistic mixture of polished wood and pristine white, the sterile environment and almost hospital like demeanour make him feel a little uncomfortable. He drew a sigh of relief as he watched Scylla, smiling slightly as she stood with her back to him at the foot of one of the beds, throwing on a jacket that wasn't her own, likely from a lost and found bin, or the doctor's own wardrobe.

"You're looking better." He said, standing a few feet away as to not spook her.

"If I take all the bandages off you might think differently." She replied.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more, I-"

"Sorry? Cyprus you should be sorry about anything." Scylla interrupted, scowling, but not at him. "Neither of us knew what we were getting into, neither did the Huntsman. How Ozpin didn't know anything about this only makes things more insane, did he know? did he tell you they were being murdered?" Her voice raised, but only slightly and for a moment, her eyes darted to the door and she changed to a hushed tone. "We could have died, Cy'. And I get that's the whole idea of being a Huntsman but we weren't ready for any of this, and he knew that."

Cyprus had no witty retort, even if he wasn't too tired to think of one. He saw the bags under her eyes, it was clear that she hadn't slept much, whether due to pain or anxiety he couldn't tell.

"The Doc said you'd need a day or two's rest, get your strength back. We're safe here, I hope."

Scylla pinched the bridge of her nose. "Safe? These people just lost their best Huntsman, their only Huntsman. They're afraid, and panic attracts Grimm."

"Then we should stick around, at least until things get sorted out. A funeral for him, proper burial or something?" The Teal haired man asked, scratching his cheek briefly. The time spent out travelling had a considerable effect on his look. His hair dishevelled and growing out the back and sides, with a five o'clock shadow giving way to considerable facial hair. "I know it's not part of the job description, but it's the least we can do, right?"

"I suppose we owe them something at least, for screwing up so bad if nothing else."

"We didn't screw up. We did the best we could when something came up we couldn't expect." He said, calmly as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"In that case, we should probably talk to Marigold. We can organise a search party afterwards, I think now that Faunus think's his cover is blown, and he'll hide for at least a while."

He chuckled. "And your basis on that is...?"

"Hoping we've used up all our bad luck in this town?"

"I'll take it."

The pair made their way out the door, Scylla having a visible limp in her step, declined any offer of support from the Vigilante, who settled for carrying the hefty bags filled with gear. The few who walked around town gave the pair plenty of looks, though some were more empathetic than others, and the scowls from others were brief until their eyes met, and the people rushed to avert their gaze. They first dropped their equipment at a small station to be repaired, as always offering to pay extra in order to get it done as quickly as possible. A disgruntled but accepting nod from the clerk sent them on their way, continuing onward to the home of the late Huntsman, and upon arrival, were greeted by not only her, but a small group of local enforcement and the Mayor of the town himself.

An older man with purest white hair that was balding at the top, let the pair inside the house. And sitting down opposite a seemingly distraught Marigold, he spoke up.

"We were wondering when you arrived. We wanted to give you the time to recover a little from your injuries." He began, seemingly understanding, but his expression turned sour. "Now, tell us what happened. Everything."

Cyprus wasted no time recalling what he knew, how they found the Huntsman already in combat with the assassin. Everything from his appearance, the notable tail, to his psychotic and borderline sadistic personality was revealed, but unfortunately they weren't the answers they wanted, and when he blacked out, the Vigilante was left wondering where to continue the story. Thankfully, Scylla made her side known, how they both fought with the Huntsman in order to hold off their attacker, and how despite his Aura being completely depleted, Finn did his duty and did his best to defend them. Paying for the kindness with his life as they both failed to stop him.

"Why should we believe you?" Marigold interjected, tears already streaming down her face. The woman was seething, her fists clenched on her knees as she sat beside the Mayor, who made no effort to calm her. "How do we know you didn't just find him killed by Grimm, or maybe you were too much of a coward to help him, and he was overwhelmed. My husband wasn't a fool, he knew what battles he could and couldn't win."

Scylla sighed and rubbed her temples, before looking the distraught woman in the eyes. "Our mission was to look for Huntsmen and Huntresses who hadn't reported in a while, and of those we found that were dead, they all shared the same markings. Lacerations, lots of bleeding, but every one of them seemed to share one thing. Some kind of poison, a purple mark on their skin where something attacked them. Your husband was brave, but he suffered the same fate.

"Why should I believe you?" She replied after a moment of pause.

"His body should still be out there, we-"

"Have already sent a search team, they should be back this afternoon at the latest." The mayor interjected, holding up a palm. "Then we can see if your story holds truth."

"We understand. We need to stay in town a few days anyway, but we'll make ourselves as useful as possible while we're here." Scylla said, professionally but with a modicum of meekness in her voice.

The Mayor huffed and folded his arms. "Yes, see to it that you do, after all we just lost the best defender of this village, and if something other than a pack of Beowolves comes our way this town won't fare well."

"Understood."


The next few days weren't spent lounging and recovering. After the townsfolk recovered the body of their fallen protector, they organised a small funeral for the man, the grief throughout the village worried Cyprus and Scylla, who fully expected Grimm to show up, called by the feelings of great sadness and anxiety that befouled the air. But none came, likely due to the miles around them being wiped clean of the creatures over the past weeks, though it wouldn't last forever.

After the funeral just over a week later, patrols and assistance with general business sweeping up much of their time beforehand, their armour was repaired and ready and they decided that their injuries had healed enough to bring them up to full strength. Leaving the town there was no goodbye, as none felt needed to be said, their business was finished and despite a good number of the town still blaming them for their failure to save Finn, that was their choice to make. Scylla, still feeling guilt towards them, tried to make things right and talk with his wife, however she was quickly dismissed and told to leave. Cyprus, who stood at the southern gate waited for her, shrugging off the glares and depressing atmosphere and only showed concern when his companion returned in an upset state.

The Vytal festival was starting soon, and neither had heard anything from their friends at Beacon, only the news reports and rumours about the event gave them updates about how things were going, but the next few days of travel in between the settlements meant more radio silence. For Cyprus, this was more time to worry, ponder the possibilities of what Cinder might be up to. His recollection of the Faunus assassin revealing that he didn't work for her only meant that she must answer to someone else, which mean she was likely only doing a job. She never liked taking orders, so she must be getting paid an incredible amount, or something else was going on. It was all trivial, however, simply thoughts that wandered in his mind like he did the dirt pathways they both walked.

Next on their list was an Huntsman who seemed like quite the oddity, and resided in the small fishing village called Cerultide, just on the coastline and Vacuo's border. The man in question was named Thistle Impar, who's license image shown on their Scroll was a bony, gaunt man with wild, stringy purple hair that was already balding despite looking no more than in his thirties. Quite the character, Cyprus was sure. And thankfully, their trip didn't have many hiccups and the weather had cleared up for a good while after the storm, the next weeks' travel on foot giving them much needed time to recover, if not walk off their injuries.

"I want to go home, Cy'." Scylla said, rubbing her arm.

"Me too, but work is work. And this kind of stuff might prepare us for the future." He replied, his hands held together behind his head as he took in a deep breath.

"We haven't even come up with anything worthwhile, aside from finding out who's been killing those Huntsmen."

Cyprus thought for a moment, then held up a finger beside his head. "True, but info is info. We've found out, the Huntsmen have all probably been warned, and that psycho has probably given up! Therefore, I think it'll be smooth sailing from here on out!"

"Does anything ever get you down, for real I mean?" She asked with the briefest of smiles.

"Nope! I mean, seeing you get hurt like that was horrible, but you're okay now, so there's no point freaking out over it." He answered, a little awkwardly and fumbling his words a bit.

"And if I wasn't okay? I feel like at some point we're going to end up facing something we can't just 'get over'. The Grimm, Cinder, the whole ordeal with that thing in your pocket? It's all leading to something. I can feel it."

Scylla had a point, even if the vigilante was too stubborn or easy going to admit it. Something was building, stewing out of sight, and he had no idea what it would all surmount to in the end. He reached into the small pouch on his belt, partially hidden by a long, scarf like piece of Teal fabric that hung from his waist. He looked down, fingers tossing and sliding over the vial that hummed with energy. His fingers grew warm from touching the object and he pulled them away to rest on the fabric, his symbol stitched into it like a brand. A swirling vortex of simply drawn clouds in a teardrop shape, surrounded by a branching bolt of electricity, all coloured a sharp, electric blue.

His own differed wildly to his companion, who went for a design more reminiscent of her talents rather than her semblance or personality. It had been a good long while since he really looked at it, the square microchip shape was present on her skin itself, though could only ever be seen from the back. The coral coloured image brightly imprinted, though only about two inches wide, on the back of her neck, circuit lines and circles winding in and aiming towards the center. A tattoo the girl got at an earlier age, though didn't tell anybody, even Cyprus himself found out when he noticed it on a whim one day. When he asked, she seemed a little nervous to show it, however, it seemed his aloof reaction helped her become more comfortable around him. The teal haired man never poked fun, or jested, so when the reveal was met with a smile and a shrug, Scylla felt more comfortable around him. Their small interactions early on helped to solidify their friendship, she quickly found out the kind of man he was, and while his slightly debaucherous nature wasn't something she shared, he never tried anything inappropriate, their relationship more like siblings than friends.

Scylla admired him in a way, he always had her back even if she might sigh at having to watch his.

"What?" He said, brow raised as he caught her staring.

"Nothing." She smiled.


The horizon loomed just as the sun began to reach it, the distant orb gracing the edge of the water, like a ball struggling to break the surface tension. The two followed a path that crested the top of a large hill, their feet aching but their cuts and bruises healed completely, aura restored, and they saw their destination. The sky glowed with a mixture of brilliant reds, oranges and purples as the darkening sky began to slowly overwhelm the light, creating a stunning vista as they descending towards the ocean's edge.

"You gotta admit," He began, folding his arms and shifting the weight of his backpack. "Some parts of this are nice."

One the distant shoreline, by the edge of the glistening waters, lay their destination. The village was barely more than a settlement itself, with most houses looking to be log cabins rather than brick or stonework, whether that was due to the infantile nature of the town or what they chose for it's aesthetic was unclear, but regardless, they had their destination in sight.

Their arrival in the village brought a sudden scent of fish and brine, the air, heavy with salt made Cyprus wrinkle his nose in disapproval. Despite the gorgeous view of the sea before them, it hardly felt like a tropical paradise, and the two were both reminded of their trip to the Harlequin Isles. Though it was less the environment on their mind, but the company.

Night had fully settled in by the time they entered through the gates of the town, and like most of the places they had visited before, their presence was met with several curious looks. Used to them now, the two ignored any stares and moved straight to the nearest inn, eager to rest themselves in a proper bed after a week of hiking.

The door opened with a creak, and soft murmurs were heard around before the minute number of patrons returned to their drinks.

Scylla took a seat next to a grizzled old man and waved over the inn-keep, who was at the time busy staring at a small television while lazily wiping down a glass.

"Hey, excuse me. My friend and I were just wondering-"

"-Lien for a room. Only got single beds free, so you can rent two or be extra cosy." The man interrupted, his wrinkled face forming an uncomfortable smirk. "We don't see many Huntresses around 'ere, what's yer business if I might ask."

"Huntsman business, what else?" Cyprus scoffed, handing him a small, silver card from his pocket. "We'll take two rooms...Please."

The redheaded girl raised a hand in a calming gesture. "We're looking for a Huntsman who was last seen here, apparently he had a job to do and we were wondering if you'd seen him anywhere?"

"Ah, yer looking for Thistle? Crazy bugger lives in a shack just by the beach. Doesn't like to be bothered, in fact I don't think he's much of a Huntsman anymore." The innkeeper said, his breath tainted with alcohol.

"What do you mean?"

"He came along about three month past I reckon, had some job to do but when he came back he must've liked it here enough to settle. Hung up his gun and built himself a hut, he makes himself useful so we keep him around." He said, shrugging in a gesture that could only be described as indifferent.

They both thanked the man and headed up to the respective rooms. The rooms weren't very pleasant, creaking floorboards and drafts seeped in through cracks in the frame of the windows, and the beds were little more than mattresses on a metal frame that made an irritating sound whenever they moved. Still, a bed was a bed, and things could be a lot worse.

The next morning came, and the two agreed to wake early and hurry down to the beach, wishing to hopefully gain some much needed insight, rather than another body. The hut by the beach was littered with junk, everything from fishing nets to old tools and half finished wooden constructions. Cyprus stepped over a large, rusted barrel that lay on it's side before the door and knocked.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

A jittery, meek voice came from the other side a minute later. "W-who's there? State your business?"

His voice was croaky, and the door opened just crack, the chain that locked it swinging and straining before it held strong against the movement of the wood.

"We're Huntsmen, Professor Ozpin sent us to find you."

Thistle was mostly caked in shadow, his curtains shut so that the only light in his home was what poured in through the door. His eyes had heavy bags and his hair was even more thin than the picture they saw, almost as if it was taken out by force, and his face peppered with healed scars emphasised trauma that his darting eyeballs revealed. "Ozpin? You're you're you're with him?"

Cyprus barely mustered a nod before the door slammed in his face. Frustrated, the teal haired young man slammed it with his fist. "Hey! Open up, we just want to talk, please! Don't make us break this thing down!"

"Cy'!" Scylla said as she rushed towards her companion and placed a hand on his arm, lowering it. Behind the door, they heard the soft clicking of metal, the swift, sliding sounds that were all too familiar to the pair from the use of their weapons.

"Now, I'm going to give you to the count of ten to leave. Ozpin won't drag me back to his nightmare, I'm done!" He cried out, the former Huntsman's voice cracking with fear.

"Wait, we won't take you back! What do you mean 'his nightmare'? Please, we just want information." Scylla said, her heart racing.

There was a long pause, long enough that tensions only rose as Cyprus grew impatient.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?" Cyprus asked. There was another pause.

"Come inside."


The two sat awkwardly on the withered couch, fabric and stuffing ripped and torn in places as they struggled to find a comfortable spot to sit in. Thistle constantly rubbed his hands together as he looked at the them, muttering quietly as he sought a spot to begin. The inside of the house was a mess, more so than the outside. Windows were cracked, furniture looked to be second hand at the least, and only the cleaned dishes by the sink served as proof that it wasn't long abandoned.

"So," The aged man began, "How much has the old man told you?"

"Old man? You're not that y-" Cyprus began, but an elbow had him holding his tongue.

"Not much. We know there are people looking to start something, something big. We know some of the people involved, they've snuck into Beacon and we're watching them, trying to find out what they're planning before we make a move."

"Gods, she's already got them in the Academy?"

"She?" Scylla asked, confused.

"I was a scout for Ozpin, I used to be part of his inner circle."

"Like that guy we met a few weeks ago...Qrow? We're looking for people in his stead, but so far they've all turned up missing or dead."

Thistle ran his fingers through his receding hair, gripping it tight and sighing heavily. "I know Qrow, he's good for a drunk." He let out a forced chuckle. "But those other Huntsman and Huntresses, you said they're dead? How?"

Cyprus folded his arms and lent back against the couch. "Some crazed Faunus had been killing them, some kind of Assassin, my guess is he works for the same group as the ones that snuck into Beacon. We've fought him off trying to save the last guy we were looking for, but I don't think he's dead." He continued with a pessimistic tone.

"In that case, thank you for the warning." Thistle said, eyeing the weapon that rested against the wall. A long rifle type weapon, complete with hefty barrel and scope, though it was uncertain from a glance what other tricks it had installed. "But you both need to listen to me. You cannot trust Ozpin."

The pair looked to each other and gave uncertain glances, backing away slightly and listening to the former Huntsman. Thistle noticed their reactions and sighed heavily, rubbing his temples.

"I know it sounds bad, but Ozpin is just as bad as our enemy. He recruits, indoctrinates and pulls people into his cause and manipulates them, gives them little choice but to sign up and take his orders, usually killing them."

Scylla shook her head. "Ozpin is a headmaster, why would he knowingly send people to their deaths?"

"Who knows? Perhaps he thinks they might get lucky? That the end justifies the means? But be warned, he's been doing this far longer than any of us know, and eventually you'll wind up just like the rest. I've seen what we're up against, and we can't win."

"What are you talking about?"

Thistle smirked. "Have you ever wondered where Grimm come from? Why they want to destroy us?"

The pair were silent, unsure how to react to the sudden shut down of any expectations they might have. What did Grimm have to do with Torchwick? With Cinder and her lackeys infiltrating Beacon? And the Faunus who clearly served someone else. Thistle let a ghastly smirk slip, finding the answer almost humorous in a way.

"They all have a master. Someone pulling the strings from behind the scenes since before any of us were born."

For once, Cyprus was glad he wasn't alone in being told unfathomable information, as he saw that his partner was sitting on the edge of her seat, eyes narrowing as she tried to see the Huntsman's possible bluff.

"I don't know who they are, but they're some kind of Witch, using magic. Real magic, like the Maidens in old tales. they hates humanity and wants us all dead, and that's why she uses Grimm, but I guess she's converted people into her ranks as well." The huntsman said, his hands shaking a little as if recalling a bad dream or memory.

"What proof do you have?" Scylla asked.

"Nothing but what I saw, and heard. So it's up to you if you'll believe what I've said or not. Consider it a warning." He replied with a shrug.

"So you won't come back with us? You could be in danger here if they find out where you are." The Huntress in training pleaded, though more concerned over the information he had than his actual safety.

"Working with Ozpin is a death sentence in itself, you've at least given me a head start. But no, I won't go back with you." He responded. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have self preservation to consider to make sure I don't die in the next few days."

"You're a coward." Cyprus snapped.

"I'm a realist."

Shaking his head, Cyprus stood up, looking almost on the verge of a tantrum before he left the house. Walking through the sand towards the receding tide, he sat down, defeated just at the edge of the dry ground whilst Scylla continued to pry as much information out of their contact as possible.

"Sir, please. If we stand together we might actually be able to stop all this."

"Ozpin has been trying to stop it for decades at least, it's barely even been a stalemate and humanity has made no progress against the Grimm. If what you say is true, and their forces have made it inside the Academy, then they've probably already won." The ex-Huntsman snorted.

Scylla sighed, stood up, and bowed respectfully. Looking at the man, it was clear he had some prejudice against the Headmaster, but knew she couldn't press the matter further.

The sun had barely begun to warm up the sand beneath their feet by the time they had made it back to the Inn, Scylla was diligently checking over the remaining names on the list and sending an update message to Ozpin as she sat quietly on one of the wooden chairs in the corner, while Cyprus made his way to the bar, getting the pair a- regretfully, non alcoholic beverage. He sat on the stool and waved the innkeeper over, however the grizzled old man had his eyes strangely fixed on the old television screen before him, his brow furrowed like his favourite show had just been cancelled.

"Hey, buddy. Can I get some service, please?"

Hm? Oh, right. Sorry lad." He said quietly, making his way over and pouring a glass of bubbling clear liquid. "Can you believe that? She should be arrested."

"What now?" Cyprus asked.

"The Vytal festival! Don't tell me ye've not been keepin' up with it." He said, surprised.

"Nah, we've been on the road a lot. Don't get much signal."

"Well, you missed this." He replied, placing a hand on the small box and turning it around to face him.

["-People are calling for the Beacon student's word on the matter, but no comment has been made. Miss Xiao Long has been hit with an immediate disqualification from the tournament, and we currently have no word on her opponent's condition."]

"Yang...?"

Cyprus sat, wide eyed. The repeated clip of the Blonde Brawler in question played on the screen. A news band scrolling underneath,
"BRUTAL ATTACK AFTER VYTAL FESTIVAL MATCH LEAVES COMPETITOR INJURED"
He continued to stare at the screen, rudely shushing the innkeeper who was halfway through a snide comment. The teal haired man watched, his heart sinking as he saw Yang turn and fire her gauntlet at a young man in steel and black coloured clothing as he rested on the ground behind her. There was no sign of provocation, not even any words spoken as she turned and punched him directly in the leg, the clip cut to a crowd of military personnel flocking the arena, surrounding the girl with weapons in hand. A girl with mint green, short hair rushed to the aid of the man, followed by a pair of medics both holding a stretcher.

"Scyl'? Scylla! Come here!" He called out, each word sounding a little more hastened and desperate.

The redhead rolled her eyes and stood up, making her way over to him. "What? I told you I'm...Oh no."

"It is currently unknown if charges will be pressed, Miss Xiao Long has been confined to her dorm room at the academy for the time being, and matches will be postponed until tomorrow."

While the vigilante was watching the looped footage intently, trying to reason with it, Scylla had her eyes on the victims. Their faces, hairstyles all seemed far too familiar.

"Oh, gods. Cy'?"

"Hm?"

"They work for Cinder, or..Torchwick?"

That was enough to get his attention.

"What?"

"That guy that got hurt? He was the one that kidnapped you. They both showed up at the Beacon Dance, why are they in the tournament?"

Neither of them had an answer, but Cyprus quickly took his Scroll from his pocket, tapping roughly on the translucent screen and attempted to call Ozpin, no response. Three more calls he tried to make, but still was ignored, or the Headmaster was unavailable he couldn't tell. He swiped down the names on his contact list, trying to think of anybody who could recover the pair and take them back to Vale, in the end, he settled on his old Caretaker. The rings seemed to go on forever, and the vigilante found himself nervously tapping his knuckled on the counter while he waited for a response.

"Master Haze, it's so good to hear from you again, how might of be of serv-"

"Brandeis, thank the gods. You busy at all for the next...day or so?" He said hastily, never having felt more glad to hear a friendly voice.

"Well, I have an event to plan with my current employers, however I can delegate some tasks and visit you within the hour." The cheery voice on the other end said.

"No! No not Vale!" He stammered, already abandoning the bar in favour of moving to his temporary room. "I'm in a place called Cerultide, it's near the border of Vacuo! Please, it's an emergency!"

There was a pause, enough to make Cyprus worry.

"I...It will take me some time to prepare the ship, sir. But I'll be there by sundown at the latest."

"You're a lifesaver Brandeis, I'll make sure you get triple time for this!"