XXXV: Transmission


As Commander Corazón reached the hillock's peak, she felt the glory of nature before her. She breathed in the comforting aroma of the great outdoors. The rolling blues and greens of the river that ran along the fertile grounds inspired her reverie.

In contrast, the frailty of the individual stood at her back. The militia unit she was evaluating wavered on their feet. The blistering pace they had set out on had taken its toll. Leaves clung to their bodies and red faces. They needed a pep talk.

"Okay Squad Friendly Octopus!" She climbed a white stone to add gravitas.

"I thought our designation was Rabbit Rascals?" One of them spoke up.

That was right. Now she remembered. She had given them that name based on their captain. On which, Sappy was scowling after having guessed the reasoning. The travel had taken the usual deference to the line of command right out of her.

"Er. Yes. I was just testing you. Kudos." The band of volunteer soldiers groaned as one, seeing through her lie. "You have persevered despite the adversity! Take this time to recollect yourself. But stay vigilant! You never know what may lurk beyond the next bush."

Several of them immediately laid down on the spot. Others sat cross legged under whatever shade they could find. Captain Sapphire sluggishly made her rounds to check on her men. The squad medic rationed out water and forced a few of them into performing stretching exercises to prevent cramping.

The first leg of their travels had been satisfactory. They moved in solidarity down the well-traveled patrol route with efficiency and calm. It was only when Cora had called for them to take a detour through the forest that they began to falter.

She had proposed it as a stress test for their readiness to respond to an emergency. In a way, it was. This unexpected journey had been helpful in revealing a few problems. They had not been properly instilling in their troops the need to push past their plateaus. However, the true reason for this path was to get a better look into lands that the Radio Free Relay transmissions had been originating from.

After hours of searching the frontier, she had come to a conclusion. There was only one area that her pirate radio disc jockey could be broadcasting. They had arrived at the rendezvous point and were now waiting for her friend to arrive to share her conclusion with.

Crouching down, Cora ran her hands along the rocky slab her feet were placed upon. The warmth of the stone radiated into her hands. It urged her to lay upon it and soak up the sun. Instead she plopped down and almost purred at the heat on her bottom. To enjoy the warmth further, she closed her eyes.

As she waited, her brain began to fill with notions. What was she going to say when she had finally met DJ Yell3r? Gotcha? You are under arrest? Let us be friends and maybe more than that?

Those thoughts were all putting the Dust cart before the train, but they did raise issues she needed to solve. She did not even know what he was like. What if he was a jerk? What if he was as anti-militia as he was anti-Sheriff? What if he was really a she?

That last one did not concern her too much, but they all challenged her assumptions. No matter how much Cora listened to Yell3r's show, that did not mean she knew the truth. There was a saying about how you should never meet your heroes. It had to exist for a reason.

Then she drifted on to another question. This one was much more serious. Were her priorities screwed up? Cyan had straight up told her that Cobalt was murdered. Was it right to put so much of her focus into the disc jockey investigation and ignore the other, more serious challenges?

While not as directly involved in raising him, Cora felt a great deal of loss. She had not had much time to process it, but Colby's death did hurt. There were a lot of small things that would be missing. She was never going to see him running the obstacle course with Schaffer. Nor would he ever ask her for Aura advice again. There was a bear sized hole in her heart she could not process.

So why was she not tearing Relay apart for justice? If anyone in the community was empowered to do such a thing, it was her. She had the mandate and the muscle to get things done. Consequences be damned.

But that would make her little better than the people she despised. Her mother would not have approved. Neither would have Sheriff Roscoe. Kohl and Maggie could also be added to the disapproval pile.

The commander was stuck. There was no easy answer. She would just have to have faith in the process. If not Wendeval, then at least in some of the people who worked for him.

Speaking of which.

The familiar sound of a scrambler engine made her smile. Opening her eyes, she watched the profile of a Dillo with familiar passengers come out from behind a few trees and break to slow down. It rolled along past her troops before halting by her rock.

As Cyan and Qrow dismounted their steel horse, Cora rushed to greet them. The huntsman nimbly stepped aside as the black-haired faunus reached out for her friend. Pulled into a side hug, the Guardian of Tocsin implemented the next phase of her cover story.

"Deputy! How unexpected!" She declared loud enough for everyone to hear.

"No one is going to buy that." Cyan whispered.

"But since you are here, why not tag along on our drill?" Cora blustered ahead. "How about it Rabbits! Who is up to show our guests how we get things done?"

There were meek cheers, but most were too busy with self-care to be bothered with her little announcement. Whatever hostility they would normally hold towards a Relay cop was forgotten. Them being too tired to care was more of a happy accident than a tactic, but she would take it.

"Good! Be ready to go in ten."

That got a reaction. The regiment let out a few murmurs but started the process of picking themselves up. Those that had not moved since laying down were being brought back to the land of the living by their courteous comrades by being splashed with water. While this happened, she led their new marching partners away from eavesdroppers.

"Alright Cora, what have you found?" Cyan asked once they were far enough away.

"Nada."

"What?" They both asked simultaneously.

"I found nothing." She pulled out her Scroll and the image she had taken of their search map. Her audience huddled closer to see the screen. "After spending enough time out here, I figured out that there is no man made or natural object that would make sense as the transmitter."

"Maggie did say there could be a high degree of error..."

"I'm guessing there was another reason you called us?" Qrow cut in.

"Right. That's when I started thinking a bit out of the box. Or rather, out of the circle." On the screen, she poked a spot right outside of the circumference. "There are a few homesteads around these parts. But there is only one that has a free-standing structure that would be large enough to cover the affected region."

In fact, they could see it from their current position. She pointed between a set of trees. They followed the invisible line from her finger to the horizon and squinted. Framed there was a metallic glimmer.

"The Bois d'Arc Acres grain silo."

Cyan looked shocked. She grasped the significance of the situation. Qrow, as an outsider, did not.

"Alright." He started trudging that direction until the deputy grabbed a hold of him. The red-eyed man glanced back. "Yes?"

"We can't just barge in there!"

"Why not? We have a law enforcement official, a militia platoon, and, most of all, a me." He said with no small bit of arrogance. "There's not much stopping us from going to take a look."

"Besides the fact that none of us have the legal authority to do that? Unless you want to tell me that radio stations increase negativity?"

"Also, my guys are unlikely to lay siege to the Bois d'Arcs." The faunus felt the need to point out.

That family was of equal measures respected and feared. Respected for the role they played in employing members of their community and treating them well. Feared for their legacy as defenders of the peace. Even Stella Lee would think twice before crossing them.

Cora could be included on the respect train. The head of the family had personally coached her in Aura usage. Without his tutelage, she would have had a much harder time mastering her power. She owed them a great deal. Enough to not invade their homeland.

"Then what's the plan? Are we sneaking in? If so, I should go it alone." He regarded Cora. "No offense, but you all would slow me down."

"Some offense taken."

"I'm also not in love with you committing trespass." Cyan squashed his suggestion.

"Things were easier in the Grimmlands." Qrow grumbled before adding on. "Well? Tell me your bright idea. Because I'm out of them."

The two visibly began to lose their patience with each other. A strange tension permeated the air as they exchanged glares and postures. Cora was interested in where that energy was going but redirected the conversation.

"We don't have to sneak in." She said, bringing them back to her. "Qrow is right. We have a huntsman with us. Time to take advantage of it."

Before they could ask for an explanation, Sappy approached. "Ma'am. We are ready to move."

"Sweetness!"

The captain nodded and ran back to the rapidly marshalled division. Once they were in formation, the commander gave the formal order to renew the march. The familiar beat of a dozen synchronized feet sparked Cora's determination.

This resolve was not shared by all. Trips and mishaps were common. Despite Qrow's prodding, Cyan refused to leave her bike behind to be collected later. He had taken to helping her push the Dillo along so they could keep up. Everyone found it much easier when they left the woods and found the traveler's path again.

As the legion moved onward, Cora pondered on the Bois d'Arc leader. It was difficult for her to imagine that he would be involved with supporting a political radio station. His family had always been adamant on staying neutral. One of the conditions for giving her Aura training was that she could not tell anyone about it. Even that much could be considered violating their principles.

Why would he change that now?

A lump in her throat developed as she reached a gate that led into the grazing lands. The narrow wooden sign attached to the iron grill was etched with the name of the hacienda. She had not passed through here since those four months of grueling practice. Hopefully, her former teacher would not be upset with the drop in.

The guards who were stationed at the gate were not amused at the unintentional show of force. As they were both faunus, they recognized Cora. Still, they were cautious. One of them stepped out from their station box to approach them.

"Commander." The guard acknowledged her rank.

"Heya. We're an envoy representing Tocsin, Relay, and Vale." She motioned to the sheer number of people behind her. The gate guard's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "Could you get us in a room with the old man?"

"But-" He changed tune when she ever so slightly cracked her knuckles. "S-sure. Follow me."

"Fantastic!" As they allowed entry, she gave dual peace signs to Cyan.

Despite the eye roll, Cora knew Cy saw the genius of her move. They were in. Now it was time for the next step of her brilliant scheme. There was liable to be a fair amount of improvisation, but one way or another she was leaving with DJ Yell3r's identity revealed.

〇-〇-〇

"Hold it."

"I am." His helper replied.

The ax was lined up with the block of wood. A groove had already been made to help guide the incoming cut. The man holding the timber, Rusty, was tilting to the right before over correcting and leaning to the left.

"Your body is swaying." The Bois d'Arc scion chided. "If you don't keep steady, you might lose a finger."

"W-well, don't miss."

"And now your hands are shaking."

"Because you told me I might lose a finger!"

"Do I need to ask someone else?"

"I swear, if you don't do it soon, I'll-"

Seeing that the other man had stopped squirming, he struck. With a clean chop, the chunk split cleanly down the middle. Rusty yelped and moved away. His employer chuckled at the overreaction.

"Hey!" The assistant did not find it as amusing.

"Hay is for horses." The blond man offered as his sagely response. "Which, by the way, the stables still need to be restocked. When are you planning to get on that?"

"I will. I'm having a slow morning."

Never mind that it was not morning anymore. The one that others called Mr. Bois d'Arc emulated the disappointed side glance of his parents. He knew the real reason Rusty was moving so slowly. The action was successful as the part-timer stammered about how he would take off to clean the stable immediately.

"Pitter patter, Rus."

Properly chastised, the faunus ran off to perform his duties. With the worker gone, the boss man wiped the sweat from his brow. With the chopped wood in hand, he brought the halves over to the rest of the pile. He would need to tell his runners the whole batch was ready for transportation to Tocsin.

He would also need to inform the arborists to plant the saplings they had brought in to replace the harvested trees. The lesson had been drilled into his head that they needed to give back to the land as much as they took. And he needed to lend a hand to the pickers. One of them was sick and they were in danger of falling behind schedule without him taking up the slack.

Sighing at all the work in front of him, he sat on the log mound. The rest was short lived when his Scroll beeped. Security was trying to reach him. Prepared for yet another fire to put out, he activated the transponder.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but you have visitors from the twin settlements."

"Ms. Lee and the Sheriff are back?" He asked with confusion.

"No sir. The head of the militia and a deputy are here. A huntsman from Vale is also tagging along. They are asking to talk with your grandfather."

That was even curiouser. They must not have gotten the memo about the change in management. News did travel slowly. He probably could have been more proactive about introducing himself as the new steward of the lands. Organizing meetings with the key players in the region could have headed off the confusion.

To be fair, the decision for him to assume control had not been foreseen. Moving back to Vale had originally been done to help take care of his ill mother. Before he knew it, he was spending most of his daytime hours trying to keep the business side of things running smoothly while also juggling his other commitments. Months passed by in a hurry.

"Where are they now?" If they wanted his grandpa, they were going to be disappointed. Better not to compound the feelings by being late.

"We left them in your parlor."

With a word of thanks, he trudged his way back to the center of the estate by taking a detour through the orchard. Acre workers bid him a good day along the way. However, when he waved back at them, they flinched. It took him a bit to remember he still was brandishing the axe. With an exhale, he set the hatchet down beside a citrus bearer.

Admiring the fleshy fruit of the trees took him on a nostalgia trip. One where him and his younger cousins would play hide and seek until their parents were done conversing. Now he was the one running the show. Patting the bark, he continued his trek.

Surprisingly, the shortcut did not save him as much time as he thought it would. The throughways were packed with a surprising number of individuals. A crowd of laborers had gathered near his house. One of them he had not been expecting.

"I thought you were going to the stables?" He asked Rusty as they bumped against each other.

"Sorry!" He replied sheepishly. "My captain was here, and I wanted to say hello first."

Wondering what he was talking about, the Bois d'Arc slid through the throng. All the while, people complained. That was until they saw who was pushing them. Then they changed their tune. He ignored them on his way to the front. Once there, he found what they were all excited about.

Columns of men and women in camo stood at the ready. A lady in a black beret was barking orders to the contingent. They must have been with the visiting party. He was going to need to have a chat with the guards about providing more detail with their reports. How they had forgotten to mention the dozen or so militia members boggled him.

Deciding to avoid the heavily armed strangers, he stuck to the outer ring of the mob. It only took a few minutes to find the door. A gigantic motorcycle was parked by the side, confirming that the Sheriff's Office was indeed involved. With a glance back, he found that the company was practicing their drills. No one paid him any attention.

He was not overly concerned. If they meant to do him or his harm, they would not have asked for a meeting. Still, the show of force was concerning. He reflected on his actions but could not think of anything he could have done to upset Tocsin. Or why a huntsman would need to be with them.

Only one way to find out. He chagrined.

Opening the door to the cottage, he could hear a lively chat between multiple people in the next room. Remembering what his mother had told him about how clothing helped set the tone for a meeting, he opened the hallway closet. From inside, he grabbed his golden cloak and proceeded to drape it over his shoulders.

Checking himself in the door mirror, he was satisfied that it hid his perspiration stains. Before he forgot, he also lifted the ceremonial sword from its spot on the wall and clipped it to his waist. He adjusted the garments opening to display the ancestral blade. At the same time, he removed his leather work gloves. He did not want to look unapproachable.

"Showtime." He smiled with a fake confidence.

Once ready, he moved into the living room. He found three individuals there. Two were upright and the third was seated on his couch. The visitors had been passing hushed tones that ceased when he made his presence known.

One of the standing was a woman dressed in the uniform of a deputy sheriff. Next to her was a man in a dress shirt and a cape. Slouching on the couch was another woman in fatigues. A crimson beret atop her head signified her command over the militia. The amount of regional clout assembled at the moment was only out done by the meeting earlier that day.

Compared to that, this would be a piece of cake.

"Hi." His voice came in a bit higher than he wanted. He coughed and tried again. "Hello. I heard you were asking for my grandfather?"

"Yes. I apologize for dropping by unannounced." She said as she crossed the room to shake his hand. "We were hoping to speak with him about a delicate matter. Is he in?"

And here was the awkward part. "He no longer lives here. I'm in charge now."

The one with the cap sat up in alarm. "Is he alright?"

"He retired. Wanted to slow down and enjoy life."

It was close enough to the truth. They did not need to know the full details. That was family business. Thinking back, he should not have told Ms. Lee what was really going on. He had felt oddly compelled to do so. She had always seemed to have that effect on people.

"Right. We should introduce ourselves. I am Sheriff's Deputy Cyan Roscoe." She pointed to her companions. "Along with me is Huntsman Qrow Branwen and Commander Key Corazón."

"Nice to meet you all. I am Yellow Bois d'Arc." The foremost individuals exchanged meaningful looks. The third suddenly had a wicked grin that almost made him shudder before continuing. "Now, how can I help you folks?"

After a pause, the commander spoke up. "We've been getting reports of increased Grimm activity. After recent events, we wanted to beef up security and increase cooperation between our settlements."

"Alright." That explained the makeshift army outside his kitchen window. "Do you need me to mediate a new defensive pact between Relay and Tocsin?"

Yellow was not sure how far they would get. From the many horror stories he had heard about Wendeval, along with their brief interactions, he had come to understand the sheriff would never intentionally help Tocsin. Not without major concessions. The Bois d'Arc could honestly say that he despised the man.

But he could not show that distaste. Not openly. Such was the duty of his family. To stand by and exude a calming influence. To never be the first to raise their voice in anger. To always be the roots that held the land together. His dad had once described it as their shared curse.

One that they would never escape.

"Actually, our ask is more basic than that." Deputy Roscoe broke his morose thoughts. "We'd like to discuss ways to incorporate your property into the defensive network. If you are open to it, of course."

"How so?" He asked, intrigued at the idea.

"We want to set up a few outposts to act as an early warning system from incursions to the south."

That sounded promising. Yellow was for anything that helped protect people. Plus, it would be advantageous to have a direct line to the militia on hand. They had not had any issues so far, but it was only a matter of time before a Beowolf wandered into the arbors. However, he would need to be careful about not accidentally violating their impartiality agreements.

"I could get behind that, but we will need to talk details."

The deputy concurred. "Do you mind if we let our huntsman have a look around the perimeter? He could give us a better idea of what we will need in terms of resources."

"That sounds reasonable."

"Great! I'll go with him. In the meantime, why don't you get better acquainted with our Tocsin rep? She is the one you will be working out logistics with."

"Okay…" The deputy was quick to lead the other male to the door.

While they were on their way out, the commander stood up. She strutted over to him with a huge grin that both frightened and spread a fire through his body. Her approach and the sway of her hips made him gulp.

With her in front of him now, he realized just how big she was. That fact had been obscured while she was seated. With a swift mental comparison, he determined that she had a full head of height over him. And he was by no means short.

"You are really tall." He stared up in awe.

No one had ever accused Yellow of being eloquent.

"Thanks." She giggled.

With the deputy and the huntsman exiting the home, that left them alone. His eyes followed her tongue as it darted out to lick her lips. The room was starting to get toasty, not that he could really notice on account of his heart beating so fast.

"Key, was it? Or do you prefer to answer to your title?"

There. Procedural issues. That was a safe starter topic. Making the meeting more official, he thought, ought to save him from becoming a complete fool.

"You can call me whatever you want."

The safety he had been seeking was suddenly ripped out from under him. Now he felt a bit lightheaded. Any response he could have thought of flew away. All he was left with were traitorous thoughts about his guest.

"So." She continued before leaning in even closer. "What are your opinions on cat ears? Like them or love them?"

"I never really, uh, thought about it before."

"That's okay. We have plenty of time for you to learn."

〇-〇-〇

"Is it okay to abandon them?" Qrow asked.

"Cora can handle herself."

"It's not her I'm worried about being handled."

He looked back to see the lady in question pushing herself into the straw haired man's personal bubble. The oddity of the once self-assured landowner left speechless by the wily faunus was hilarious but also concerning. He put it out of his mind to follow Roscoe.

The militia was busy conversing with the farmers in the grove. Their escort into the compound was caught up in it as well, thinking that their boss was entertaining the visitors. That gave them the chance to explore without having their movements monitored or diverted.

"We don't have much time." His sneaky assistant whispered. "We should focus on the most obvious area for the transmitter and get back before anyone notices."

With that, they turned to the granary storage center. It sat in an otherwise unremarkable field. They crept up onto it while watching out for any resistance. Once at the structure, they both studied it intently. The silver cylinder reached high into the sky.

"Suppose we could find a way up there?" Roscoe asked as she covered her vision to deflect the sun's glare from its surface.

"It'd be pretty obvious if we tried." Few would miss the sight of two individuals climbing up the side of the silo.

"Good point." She pointed one direction. "You go that way. I'll go along the other side. Let's see if we can find signs that this is a transmitter."

Not having any better ideas, Qrow agreed and began walking the circumference of the granary. With his hands in his pockets, he examined the curved sides as he walked. Looking the thing up and down, he concluded he had no idea what he was looking for.

There was not much to go on. No obvious circuitry or wires sticking out. No glossy interfaces. Not even an antenna with a fuzzy pointed end. Just a whole lot of welded tin held together with rivets. As far as he could see, it was an upside-down rust bucket.

Knocking on the facade, he could not hear an echo. Something was inside. Whether it was foodstuff or not, he could not tell without X-ray vision. There did not seem to be a door he could access, so there was no way of verifying.

Thinking their trip might have been a waste, he power walked ahead to meet up with Roscoe again on the other side. He eventually found her not too far from where they had both started. She was on her hands and knees examining the concrete base the silo sat on.

"You got something?"

"Maybe. Check this out." The deputy wiggled a thick, blue plastic segment that led out of the base and into the ground. "What do you think it is?"

"That is an optical-fiber cable. They use those bad boys all over Beacon to connect high-tech systems."

Those systems ranged from Aura readers in the sparring rings to Bullhead guidance lanes on the landing pads. One use stood out to him. The connection between the CCT and the Beacon Headmaster's office was secured with a very similarly colored tube.

"What's it doing out here?"

Grasping the line, Qrow carefully gave it a tug upwards. The tension caused the grass that had grown over it to move. This time, he gave it a harsher yank. Greenery and weeds were uprooted as more of the cable emerged from the earth. The exposed cord clearly ran the length of the bare field to a nearby barn.

They headed to the new outbuilding and came to a wide double door that was already open. After a bit of coaxing on Qrow's part, he got the deputy to follow him. Inside, the huntsman stopped to blink at his surroundings. The interior was not what he was expecting.

"Is that a disco ball?"

"I heard about this from the volunteers. Apparently the Bois d'Arcs created a dance hall for people to unwind. They even serve drinks with all of the money going to charity."

"When did they set this up?"

"Some months ago. Half a year or so."

"And when did this radio station we are hunting go live?"

She paused. "Around then as well."

Roscoe had to be having the same thoughts as him. A new head of the manor starts a miniature nightclub. Later on, musical broadcasts begin to go out over the airwaves. That was an odd coincidence. Kind of like the coincidence of a high-speed cable connecting this makeshift discotheque to a suspected transmitter.

"Spread out and look for anything out of the ordinary."

That would not be difficult. There was nothing ordinary about any of this. The dance floor, confetti cannons, and sound system were way too fancy for a barn in the middle of the sticks. Nothing obviously incriminating though.

While Roscoe checked out the speakers, he zeroed in on the far back wall. There he found a well-stocked bar. A sign indicated booze was free to take with a suggested donation. The idea of alcohol was enticing, but he focused on the collection jar. Inside was some lien and a wallet. Someone must have been feeling generous.

Keeping to the back, he traced the wall to the far corner near the stage. There he spotted a dark nook that was much deeper than logic dictated. Inside, he found a cubicle with an active terminal on a desk. He called his associate over. When she caught up, he was already going through the drawers.

"Yeah?"

"Jackpot." He grinned while pulling out a stack of papers.

Passing a few sheets over, they both began reading. It became clear what they were a few lines in. Scripts. Handwritten notes consisting of song lists, jokes, and occasional angry rants. In other words, everything needed to produce a radio program.

"He must record all of this beforehand and use the computer to run the broadcast." Said computer was locked, so that was as good a guess as any. "Although I wonder how he doesn't run out of material. It's an all-day show."

"Maybe he recycles? I doubt anyone listens to his show non-stop, so he could rerun stuff without too many people noticing."

"Yeah. That and all the music he plays could help cover gaps."

Qrow pointed to the daisy chained chassis below the desk. "Want me to switch it off? That should kill the transmission."

"Leave it. I'd prefer if we could get him to pull back on his own rather than shut him down."

He shrugged and put things back as they were before they had arrived. If it were up to him, he would have killed the music. But this was Roscoes' show to run. Not his.

Now that they had confirmation, it was time for a confrontation. Departing from the barn, the duo found that no one had noticed their little romp around the premises. Glad to have the element of surprise on their side, they returned to the main house and the horrors it contained.

"A little to the left. Ooh. That's the sweet spot. Now press in a little more."

Qrow and Roscoe opened the door to the sight of the Tocsin Commander sprawled on the couch. Her head was in the Bois d'Arc heir's lap as she was reading from a Scroll. He had a hand in her hair, rubbing behind her furry appendages.

"Like this?"

"Mmmh. Yes." A content hum escaped her lips. "You have divine fingers."

Roscoe cleared her throat. Both Yellow and Cora looked up at the returning visitors. The trapped man stopped his movements and had the decency to put on his bashful face. The faunus on the other hand had no such shame. She sat up beside him and yawned.

"Getting comfy?"

"Was cozy until you interrupted." She stuck her tongue out before handing the device over to Yellow. "Thanks for lending me this."

"No worries." He cleared his throat before attempting to get serious again. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"In a manner of speaking." Roscoe eyed Qrow. For his part, the huntsman tried to mentally convey that it was not his problem. She seemed to get the gist of it, if the slight pout she gave back was any indication. "We know you are DJ Yell3r."

Roscoe had decided on the blunt instrument approach to interrogations. An interesting strategy. Qrow was interested in seeing how it would work out for her. Meanwhile, Cora edged a little closer to the unmasked radio pirate. It could have been to prevent him from escaping. Maybe.

"I… don't know what you are talking about." He tried to play dumb.

"We found your office in the barn." Qrow cut in for dramatic effect. "Not that we needed to after you introduced yourself to us. Here's a suggestion. Next time, don't pick a handle so close to your real name."

The seated man reddened at the dig. That was not what undid him, but it did help convince them that they were on the right track. Made them look a little harder than they might have otherwise. Then again, not everyone was as talented a fake name generator as the one and only Richard Starkey.

"O-office? Never heard of them."

"Like, the concept?" The befuddled commander asked as she leaned into him.

"We are not here to bust you." Because, as Roscoe had pointed out before, they could not. "I won't even tell the sheriff. I'm just asking that you stop clogging up our frequencies. It makes my life much more complicated."

"That was the point." He openly admitted. "Your discomfort is not even a fraction of what those people out there have to deal with from Wendeval. I thought maybe a little disorder might spark a change."

"Can't say we don't need one." She mumbled.

"Then you understand why I can't stop."

That effectively stopped the conversation. Yellow was back to a more defiant footing. Qrow had to admit that the conviction he put in his words was strong. He reminded the huntsman a bit of Ozpin when he was giving a lecture. Roscoe drew a deep breath before beginning again.

"Could you ease up for a week? Qrow and I have an important case that your operation is distracting us from."

"What is the investigation about?"

"Cobalt Bleu." Cora answered before they could think of a lie. "I'm sure you heard how he was attacked by Grimm? He wasn't. He was murdered."

And just like that, the cat was out of the bag. Or rather, she had escaped and was giving away their secrets. The blond man's shocked expression was an appropriate response.

"Colby was a good kid. He would drop by to pick up donations for the orphanage. I can't believe someone would do that to him…" The Bois d'Arc paused. Then he gave in. "Alright. I'll give you five days. No more."

"Thank you." The deputy smiled. "I will also ask that you keep what we told you confidential."

"I'm a Bois man. It's practically all we do." He snorted before rising and bidding them to leave.

As a promise went, it felt weak to Qrow. It did satisfy the ladies, so he let it go. On the way out, however, Cora marched up to their host. She was intent on getting the last word in.

"About my earlier question." The faunus grinned while bending forward. "What's your opinion now?"

He looked away. "I love cat ears."

"Yeah you do." She winked as she left him behind.

Outside the closed door to the dwelling, the trio stood around in a circle. They needed to debrief, but no one wanted to start. Qrow was the first to get his question in.

"Are you sure he will keep his word?"

"Maybe. His heart seems to be in the right place. What is your read on him, Cora?"

"He's clean. The only suspect thing on his Scroll was a meeting between Stella and Wendeval that happened earlier today." Her mood darkened. "It was about trade and land access. I'll need to have another talk with Ms. Lee about having off the book meetings in Tocsin's name."

Qrow was impressed by her deviousness. He was also confused about what that summit meant. Were the sheriff and the matron enemies? Or were they working together? This all fit back into the strangeness that was Relay. Every layer he scraped away made the whole more rotten.

"And here I thought you were just getting scratchies." Roscoe elbowed Cora.

"I can multitask!"

The deputy laughed as the faunus shook her. Qrow let them have their moment of fun, but eventually had to separate the two. They were burning the last few hours of daylight. He wanted to be back in town before his nieces' bedtime.

"Did we get everything we wanted?"

"And some!" Cora cheered, making Roscoe cringe. "I'll finish up things around here. Oh! And don't expect me back tonight Cy."

"Why? Expecting more pets from your new beau to keep you occupied?"

"There will be time for that later." There was no embarrassment in her voice as she gestured at the infantry exercising under the trees. "I need to make sure those dorks make it back home in one piece."

"I could pick you up when you are done."

"Nah. It will be dark by the time I am done. I'll crash in the barracks tonight. They have a room reserved for me, so I might as well use it."

The friends exchanged more chatter until a militia member approached to ask for orders. Cora left with her shortly thereafter. With their accounts settled, the huntsman and the deputy hopped on to their transport. He surrounded her waist as they set out. His brain barely registered how natural the action had become.


Chapter Next: Bad Moon Rising (1/29/21)