Boone sat in the kitchen of his and Six's quarters, a laptop open on the table. He sipped from his coffee as he looked through various locations in Vale, banks, shipping ports, jewelry stores, anything someone calling himself Thief might target. This kind of technology was amazing, but it didn't surprise the sniper. He'd figured that if humanity back on Earth hadn't bombed themselves to oblivion, they'd probably have reached this level of advancement at some point. But he was growing increasingly frustrated.

The problem wasn't a lack of results. No, it was quite the opposite. There were too many results, far too many for just the two of them to cover on their own. And he couldn't narrow down the results that well, as they didn't know what this guy's motives were. If he were looking for quick money, the jewelry stores or similar places would be the way to go. But if he were looking to challenge himself, he would go for the higher-end banks in the more affluent parts of the city. It was frustrating, to say the least.

On the other hand, the Outlaw had quite the history, though it was mostly just a collage of deeds and work history. There were no records on his personal life, almost as if he simply appeared one day. He began his career six years ago working for the crime families of Vacuo as an enforcer, and a damn good one at that. His notoriety reached the point where if someone heard he was being sent after them, they'd simply give up then and there. Many people had tried to stand up to him, all failing.

He worked for them until a year later when he disappeared from the city entirely, leaving the families that'd employed him confused and angry. He went off the grid for a month or so before someone matching his MO popped up in Mistral. This time he'd been contracted by a PMC called the Exterminators. They were known throughout the Kingdom for not doing extensive background checks on their members, which explained why they so readily hired him. He did many jobs with them, quickly climbing the ranks until he was one of the highest-rated and most expensive to hire mercs.

This time he stuck with them for a good three years until he, once again, disappeared. During this time, there were reports of him being sighted fighting alongside the Branwen bandit tribe during raids. Still, those are primarily unconfirmed and are theorized to have been malicious rumors spread by his rivals within the Exterminators to discredit him. It remained this way until recently when he started working for the Vale branch of the White Fang.

Nobody had ever seen his face within his entire career without some sort of covering, usually his signature camo bandana. The few people who have claimed to see his face have either refused to disclose what he looks like or disappeared not long after. But one other thing that made his current choice of employment strange was his attitude towards Faunus.

While he never was verbally racist, some people who have worked alongside him in the past have revealed he would be particularly cruel to prisoners of Faunus descent. While he worked with the Exterminators, he would regularly go overboard during interrogations, bordering on full-on torture. He had to be stopped on multiple occasions to prevent him from killing the captive. Needless to say, he'd be the type of person the White Fang would actively hunt, not one they would hire as an enforcer. So they were either blackmailing him or paying him an obscene amount of Lien. And based on what he'd said in the footage Ozpin had shown them, it was likely the latter.

The only times he would be sent into the city itself seemed to be if there was a particularly troublesome task that was more suited for him, mostly hits. The most recent had been a week ago when he gunned down an ex-White Fang member while walking to work. It had been one clean shot to the heart, and since it had been early in the morning, nobody else had been awake to witness the crime. He gave off the impression of being a dumb brute, but it was clear he was more intelligent than he let on.

Since this hit was so recent, there was a good chance he was still in the city, hiding out until he was given another hit. Which meant where there was White Fang, there was likely the Outlaw. But where could they be hiding? The obvious answer would be the docks. The abandoned warehouses there were already known to be frequently used by criminal organizations for a myriad of purposes. That reputation had resulted in many honest and innocent people steering clear of the place. The police also rarely went there unless there was some shit actively going down, like a gunfight or something similar.

Boone wrote down "Docks?" under Outlaw leads in his notebook. Right then, Six walked in through the front door, both their helmets in hand. He'd been in the forge room where the students were meant to maintain their gear, working on the helmets.

"I finished the upgrades." He said as he hung them on the rack. "Now, we should be able to toggle whether or not our voices can be heard outside our helmets. Should help with stealth ops and just having private conversations." Boone nodded before getting up and putting his empty mug in the sink.

"I've got one possible lead. The Outlaw recently did a hit and should still be in the city somewhere. Since he's working with the Fang, he'll probably be in one of the warehouses they use." Six gave him a thumbs up while scratching his beard.

"Sounds good. While I was in the forge, I had an idea. If the Thief works in the criminal underworld, chances are one of the info dealers knows something about him." He proposed.

"You think we should split up?" Six nodded.

"Yeah. You can scout out the warehouses, figure out specifically which ones the White Fang use, while I go have a chat with the local knowledge tap."

"You know any you can actually go to?" Boone questioned, but Six just waved his hand.

"I'll figure it out as I go. He'll probably be hidden in plain sight; it'll just take some asking around before I find him."

"Alright, just don't cause too much trouble. Ozpin says the first-year students are showing up for Initiation tomorrow." Six mumbled out an "ok" as he reached into the fridge for a whiskey.

"So, what should we do about Fenrir?" Six asked. Boone looked at him, slightly confused.

"What do you mean?"

"We can't exactly bring him into the city with us, and I'd rather not have him patrolling Beacon. A robot like him is bound to draw attention." Boone thought for a moment before he got an idea.

"You remember the rocket lockers the students use to quickly retrieve their gear if they get into trouble?"

"Yeah, what about them?" Boone gave him a deadpan look as Six thought. Then his eyes lit up as his mind clicked. "That'd be fucking amazing! Great idea, I'll start modifying him as soon as I can find a discreet place to do so." Six popped his whiskey open before taking a swig, walking down the hall and out of sight.

"I just hope you test it beforehand," Boone mumbled before closing the laptop. He'd rather not get crushed by a massive chunk of prewar metal amid battle.

X

It was late at night when Six finally managed to find the place he'd been told about—Junior's Club. Supposedly the big man himself, Junior Xiong, was an information broker. He just had to look for the biggest guy there, and he'd be in business. Approaching the front doors, he wasn't surprised when he was stopped by the two guards stationed outside. They did a piss-poor job of hiding their surprise when a heavily armed and armored man approached them, their hands hovering by their guns.

"Hey, we can't let you bring guns in here." Six rolled his eyes behind his helmet as he handed them his rifle. They then frisked him for anything else but didn't find the knife and revolver he had hidden on his person. After that, they finally let him into the club. The music immediately hit him, a heavy techno beat pulsing through the building. He could hear it faintly outside, but in here, it was borderline overwhelming. He could see why others would love it, but he personally couldn't stand it.

He scanned the area. The dance floor was directly in front of him, and it was completely packed. Dancers filled the place to the brim, the DJ booth being responsible for the blaring music. Looking past the show of lights, he spotted the bar. Several thugs dressed identically to the ones outside stood around, a huge man operating the bar. There he was.

Six walked past the dance floor and sat down at the bar. He stood out like a sore thumb in this place but at the same time blended in because of his dark armor. That didn't stop the bartender from immediately noticing him and subtly motioning for his boys to keep their hands near their weapons. After a moment of silence, the bartender spoke to him.

"You want something?" He asked.

"You Junior?" Six asked. The large man raised a brow.

"Depends, who's asking and why?" He was cautious; that was to be expected.

"I'm looking for information on someone going by "the Thief." That name ring any bells?" Junior very subtly stiffened at the name, but Six pretended not to notice.

"Lots of people calling themselves thieves. You'll have to get more specific." Junior knew precisely who he was talking about but was being evasive.

"I know you know who I'm talking about. I can pay for any information you give me, and I'll make sure it's never tied back to you." He looked around nervously, looking to see if anybody untrustworthy was listening. Whoever this Thief was, he was well connected, especially if an info dealer like Junior was reluctant to talk about him. Eventually, he gave in.

"Follow me to my office, we'll-" He was cut off when someone slammed their hand into the counter. Six looked over and saw a young woman in a rather revealing outfit standing there, a fierce look in her eyes. He immediately saw where this was going.

"Hey, you Junior?" She interrogated.

"We're busy here, missie. Come back later." Six said. She turned her attention to him, her not liking what he'd called her.

"Don't call me missie. Instead, you can call me sir!" She went to grab his balls, but he was faster. He backed up, surprising her by how quick he was.

"Hold it, you wanna start something?" He pointed to the crowd of innocents just a few feet away. "Think before you act, dumbass. You really want them getting caught in the crossfire?" She showed some signs of reluctance to leave, so he went even further. He drew his revolver and pointed it at the crowd. Her eyes, as well as Junior's, widened in surprise. She held her hands up in a placating manner while backing towards the door. She had a conscience. Good.

"Alright, I'll leave. This isn't over!" She retorted as she left. Once she was well out of sight, he holstered the revolver and turned back to Junior, who looked like he was about to say something.

"Relax, I wasn't gonna shoot. If she'd refused to leave, I would've subdued her the old-fashioned way." That seemed to appease him.

"Alright, thanks for handling that so well. Follow me." He led the Courier through a door behind the bar. After going through a few concrete hallways, they arrived at his office. It was nice, like someone had taken the main club's look and reformatted it into an office. Junior sat down behind his desk, Six sitting opposite him.

"Alright, I'll tell you what you wanna know, but know that this is putting me at a huge risk. He works for some dangerous people, the kinds of people who'll kill you if they so much as suspect you of knowing anything about them." So he wasn't freelancing; that's good to know. It was also clear Junior was trying to scare him into not pursuing the matter. It wouldn't work.

"How much is this gonna cost me?" Six asked, but Junior chuckled.

"Consider this a favor for getting that broad to leave. She looked like a Huntress-In-Training, so who knows how much damage she would've caused if she'd decided to start a fight." Six breathed an internal sigh of relief. Ozpin hadn't finished setting up bank accounts for him and Boone yet, so he didn't have any Lien to pay Junior. That girl coming in had been a blessing in disguise.

"Ok, you know his name?" Junior shook his head.

"No. He's never told it to me, and I can't tell you what he looks like since he's always got a red bandana on. But I can tell you what he wears while on the job." Junior paused as Six pulled out a notepad. "He has a flannel shirt and jeans with black leather armor, though they look less like protection and more for stealth. He also has a hood with a red bandana, weird white symbols covering it." That one interested him.

"Can you describe the symbols?"

"Hand me your notepad, and I'll draw it." Six nodded and handed it to him. After a few seconds, Junior handed it back to him. Looking at it, Six didn't recognize it at all. It was an upside-down triangle with five teardrops falling off the bottom. In the middle was a crude depiction of a skull. "That's what the skull looks like, I'm not just shit at drawing." Six ignored the comment.

The only way he could describe the symbol was tribal, but he didn't know much about tribal history on Remnant.

"Oh, he also has one of those on his arm." Six looked up from his notepad and noticed Junior was pointing at something on his arm. He followed it and realized what he was pointing at—his Pip-Boy. The Thief had a Pip-Boy. That meant one of two things. Either he was from Earth or had stolen it from someone else who was. Either way, he and Boone weren't the first people from Earth to Remnant, which implied so many things.

"Have you ever seen his weapon?" Junior shook his head.

"No. But if you were able to sneak a revolver in here, I don't doubt he's done the same every time he's visited." Yeah, that sounded about right.

"Alright, last question. Who does he work for?" Junior hesitated but answered.

"He doesn't work for anyone." He admitted. Now Six was confused.

"You said he works for dangerous people." Six pushed.

"I lied. He's done a lot of good work for me in the past, and I didn't want to rat him out. He's the closest thing I have to a friend, despite knowing next to nothing about him. If you find him, don't tell him I told you anything." Six nodded before tucking away his notepad and standing up.

"Thanks for telling me this. When I do find him, I'll make sure he doesn't trace it back to you." Junior nodded in appreciation before Six left. Now he just had to make it back to the rendezvous point and wait for Boone if he wasn't there already.

X

Boone looked through the scope of his sniper rifle, his vantage point atop a nearby building giving him a clear view of the entire dock area. There were many warehouses, too many for him to search individually. He'd been sat here for an hour, but if there was one thing he learned from 1st Recon, it was patience. He could sit here for an entire day, and at most, he'd shift his weight. And his patience paid off.

In the distance, he could see an unmarked shipping truck drive in from the west entrance. He swapped the lens for one more intense and zoomed in a bit more on the truck. It continued driving around the warehouses until stopping at one in particular, B-4. It turned around and backed up towards the loading bay, honking before the door slid up and open, revealing several White Fang grunts inside. Bingo.

As they began unloading boxes marked with the White Fang logo, Boone scanned the rest of the building. Unfortunately, the windows had been boarded up, blocking his vision. All except the skylights. He'd have to climb up the roof and use them to see inside. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he climbed down the access ladder to the ground before taking off in a full sprint for his target. If he approached from the back, the terrorists wouldn't be able to see him coming, the boards being a double-edged sword.

By the time he'd reached it, they had finished unloading the gear. The drivers had come inside, a different pair dressed as average workers coming out to replace them for the next delivery. Boone circled the building but found no exterior ladder. That meant either going inside and scouting, which was a no-go for him, or putting those climbing skills he and Six had been working on to good use. In their spare time, Six and Boone had decided to try something prewar people called urban exploration. They weren't great, but they were good enough to scale a small building, provided there were enough handholds. And with this warehouse, there were plenty.

Backing up, Boone gave himself a running start before jumping up the wall and grabbing onto the edge of a windowsill. He hefted himself up and held onto the top of the window frame, bracing his feet against where his hands had once been. There was a second level of windows, allowing him to propel himself up and repeat the process. After that, it was a simple matter of doing the same thing and grabbing the edge of the roof before pulling himself up.

He stood up on the roof of the warehouse he'd just scaled, unashamedly proud of himself for doing so, before making his way over to the nearest skylight. Lying down on his stomach, he peeked his head over enough for him to see clearly. He knew about Faunus' natural night-vision, so he didn't want to risk any spotting him. Then again, he doubted any would think to look up in the first place.

The terrorists were moving the crates to different places in the warehouse, sorting them by their contents. Looking around, Boone couldn't see anyone matching the Outlaw's description, just normal White Fang. But he figured he might as well take advantage of this while he could.

Taking out his Scroll, he began taking pictures of everything incriminating. The terrorists themselves, the gear they had, their cargo. He even snapped a picture of a freshly opened box containing a pair of disassembled assault rifles. These guys looked ready for a fight. Just as he was about to leave, though, he saw the door to one of the upper offices open and a man in a White Fang uniform, but no mask, get thrown out.

He hit the railing and tried to escape, but a gunshot to his leg from within the office stopped him. Boone cracked the skylight open just enough for him to hear what was happening. Then the attacker revealed himself when he exited. It was him, the Outlaw, in all his ferocious glory.

"You thought you could rat us out?!" He yelled, his voice even more intimidating in person. The man, a wolf Faunus, tried to crawl towards his gun that'd been knocked out of his hands. He screamed in pain when the Outlaw curb-stomped the offending limb into the metal floor. "You think I didn't know about your little plan to meet with the cops?!" He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a leather-bound journal, a name Boone couldn't make out written on the front.

"C'mon, man! That's not mine!" He pleaded, but the Outlaw kicked him in the gut to shut him up.

"Your name is literally signed on the front, who else could it belong to?!" He threw down the journal before grabbing him by the throat and holding him over the railing. He jammed the barrel of his gun into the traitor's mouth, making him freeze before desperately trying to remove the weapon.

"This is what happens to traitors and cowards!" He shouted to the rest of the gathering crowd before looking the struggling man in the eyes and pulling the trigger, a spray of blood and a sudden limpness marking his end. He dropped the corpse, it making a wet splat upon hitting the floor. "Remember this next time you think about ditching us." He growled to the crowd before returning to the office, slamming the door so hard he was surprised it didn't crack.

Boone, who had recorded the whole thing, chose this time to leave. He tucked his Scroll away before descending from the rooftop in much the same way he'd gotten up there. Once his boots hit the tarmac, he looked around to make sure nobody had seen him before running off into the night. It was time to meet up with Six and exchange notes.

MemeMasterAssBlaster: People in-game say it "Eddie," but I've always said it was "E-DEE". I guess it just depends on which one you prefer.

ER-47: That's what Ozpin's going to use them for mainly.

VGBlackwing: He won't go that far.

Yeti Man: I'll keep going then.

whatsupman: They'll bring some good old-fashioned wasteland justice to Vale.

djpj7652: Six isn't going to be happy when he finds out Ruby is going to Beacon, especially since she's bloody 15 when she starts going to Beacon. And if Six can convince a pissed off Yang to back the fuck off, he could probably talk a bunch of pissed off terrorists to lay down their arms. But the question is, does he want to?

Guest: ~Big iron, big iron, when he tried to match the ranger with the big iron on his hip, big iron on his hip.~

Monster King: Truly.

Don't forget to raise your horns to the Gods. Skål!

-Bile