A/N: Sorry guys, I know you're wanting more. I've got a lot on my plate and a lot of tripe to sort through. I could just repost it all but I'm cutting OCs left and right from this story while trying to improve it so that it makes sense.

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York was sighing as he looked at his scroll. "Dammit." He said to Maine. "They know we're operating out of the area. That and for some reason they sent an Atlas Specialist to deal with the case."

Maine shrugged, typing into his own scroll, and hitting text-to-speech: "Can we Move?"

The Empire State Freelancer shook his head. "We could get picked up on cameras, plus actually renting out a space could take weeks." He ran a hand through his hair. His head snapped to the door as a knock sounded on the metal. He grabbed his handgun and Maine pulled on his helmet, already dressed in his gear.

Stepping up quietly, York pulled up the feed from the hidden camera outside, then breathed as he saw it was Ren. He opened the door, letting the boy in, and quickly shutting the door. "I'm sure the cops walking in asking about the vigilante was nerve racking." The stoic student started.

"Did everyone get out safe?" York asked.

"Yes, but we might have a problem. That's Weiss' sister." Ren started.

York nodded, waving it off. "We know. Weiss won't tell her anything, though. I trust her."

Ren shook his in response. "That's not going to be easy if she decides to visit her younger sister and meet her team. One of which she just saw in a club."

York's eyes widened in realization. "Shit." He facepalmed. "I'm gonna look suspicious if I'm seen with you guys again. A bartender at a suspected Gargoyle spot that's friendly with a bunch of beacon students?"

"We'll definitely need to be careful. Why did Atlas send a Specialist for this though?" Ren questioned, raising an eyebrow.

York shrugged. "I guess Ozpin wouldn't authorize any of his forces to help, as he's getting me all settled in as a Huntsman."

"Agent York, I may have another hypothesis." Delta popped up through York's scroll.

"Shoot, D." York urged.

"With the Vytal Festival coming up, I have confirmed reports that James Ironwood is being recommended to handle security. These measures may be an effort to clean up the streets to promote a safe environment for the festival."

Ren nodded. "That would make sense." He agreed. "In addition to Ozpin not helping due to acquiring your licenses."

York thought for a moment. "I got a few ideas of where we can move. Maine, head downstair and start cleaning the gear up, I'll start up top."

The beast of a man grunted, seemingly annoyed at the thought of cleaning, then started downstair towards the workshop.

"You and Maine seem closer." Ren noted suddenly.

After a moment of thought, York sighed, his shoulders collapsing. "I guess I finally accepted that it wasn't entirely his fault. Besides, I'm trying to move on, start fresh, figured I should wipe that slate clean, along with all the others."

"Including Carolina?" Yang questioned.

York breathed slowly, then nodded. "I think I lost that chance a while ago. Hell, I lost hope a long time ago as soon as I found out it was Tex that was going rouge."

"Losing hope is like losing those we love, York. Sometimes the chance for what we wanted is long gone, but our dreams can change, sometimes for the better. But dwelling on those lost dreams can prevent us from pursuing the new ones."

York gave him a look, "Yeah… Thanks, Ren."

"I wish she could've learned to let go… I guess I should, too…"

0ooooo0

York

York and Maine were in the thick of it. The two had picked up intel of a weapons deal and when they'd intervened, almost every gang member had a fresh new weapon and itchy trigger fingers. York was currently behind cover, reloading his DMR as his shields recharged. He looked over to Maine, who was launching rounds from Brute's Regret, his brute shot.

"Agent York, police are inbound, I suggest disengaging." Delta intoned.

York scanned the situation and cursed. "Not sure if I'll be able to, D. We're in too deep." He leaned out and fired two rounds towards the buyers, a gang called the Copper Sharks.

Maine looked over, nodding. He had York's back.

Sirens were blaring down the street and the gang's were trying to get away, but with the guns in the middle, one side wanted to get their product and the other wanted the money. Soon it became an all out brawl between the two gangs, and York was ready to attempt to slip away until the announcement came across a megaphone.

"This is the police. Throw down your weapons and put your hands up!"

In response, a hail of gunfire was directed towards the cops as York took cover. "Maine, try not to intervene if we don't have to. Activate camo and try to get out." York called.

Maine confirmed with a grunt as tried to cloak, then cursed as gunfire struck his side. York turned to see detectives closing in. He sighed, lifting his rifle, and aiming for non-vital wounds.

"Vigilante!" Winter Schnee cried as she leapt in front of the officers and cast glyphs to shield them. "Surrender now or face me." She demanded defiantly.

"And you are?" York sighed, pretending he didn't know, perhaps it would help divert attention from the club and his alias.

Winter's face flushed with anger. She certainly held the same pride as her sister. The woman was dressed as she was earlier this evening, with a dueling saber in hand. The sword had a single edged, slightly curved blade. The sword's hilt had a wide, crescent shaped guard that enveloped her hand. She stamped her foot down, the glyphs fading as the police were now in cover. "I am Specialist Winter Schnee, of Atlas. I've have been assigned to help bring you to justice."

"Ah, well I'm afraid I won't be surrendering today, Ms. Schnee." York taunted, then shifted Firestorm into its blade form. form. "My cause is good and for that, I must fight."

"You kill without a second thought." Winter accused. "You call that a good cause."

"Can you not say the same for the soldiers of Atlas?" York spread his arms. "I kill when it's necessary, sweetie." York told her. "All soldiers like me can say the same."

Winter took a moment to collect her thoughts before her eyes, hard as steel and just as cold, narrowed. "It's our duty, we are trained and authorized to protect the people-"

"Is it not the duty of any moral man to help his fellow neighbor. This city is infested with the dregs of society. People are hurting, and not every problem can be solved with a badge." He laughed. "It's like they say. Cops: Always five minutes away during a crisis."

"You sure do like to talk." A detective called. "Shut the hell up and drop your weapon."

York cut off his speakers. "Delta, I'll need some help."

"I'm ready, Agent York."

With a flourish, York shifted his stance, placing his sheath back in place on his back and shifting his sidearm into its parrying dagger form. "Let's dance."

Winter attacked, her attacks very fast and coordinated. York concentrated on her, while Maine engaged the cops. His armor shimmered as the brute cloaked, prepping a tear gas grenade and launching it to the squad cars.

The specialist and golden freelancer were in the thick of it. Winter sent a feint for his side, then switched, attacking from his blind side. Delta gave his warning and York raised the dagger to block before kicking towards her leg. The Ice Queen stepped back, before re-engaging with an attempt to run him through. The blade slid along armor and York chuckled until she adjusted, going for an opening at his armpit. He twisted back, the blade sliding along his shoulder, and his sword came up to try and disarm her. Winter adjusted, twisting her hand to avoid the tension that could tear her sword from her hand.

It was clear to York that he wasn't as skilled. She'd trained with her sword far longer than he had. Close combat training for freelancers usually involved knives, handguns, shotguns. Not swords.

Winter began to use her glyphs, casting four: two above him like spotlights, the other two on either side of him. She propped up one leg on one, then shot off like a rocket, striking York even faster so he could not block. She struck at least a dozen times, and York's shields were beeping in his ear to show they were down. He fell to one knee, a tear in the skin glove of his armor, cut finally by the heavy assault, was torn and bleeding, at the leg. He cursed, then rose to his feet as Delta activated the healing unit.

"My turn." He muttered. Then disappeared from view, striking again and again and dashing quickly from place to place, striking the woman multiple times before returning to visibility. She cried out and Delta hacked into her scroll to see her aura readings.

"Good hit, York. Suit's power is at 30%" Delta warned.

"Coordinate energy shield concentration to sections she's about to hit."

"Running calculations. You need to end this soon, York, or the suits functions will disable."

"Got it, D. Maine, time to go." York called over comms.

"You're not going anywhere!" Winter cried, having recovered from York's attack. She was prepping another glyph, dead on target. York readied himself to receive.

As she launched forward, with blinding speed the white-armored Freelancer slammed a fist into her face. The hit broke the sound barrier as Winter went flying off course. The brute grunted as he beckoned York to leave.

"Ouch, Maine I think you broke her." York winced, looking towards officers running to aid the unconscious specialist.

Maine tapped his wrist, where a watch would be, and York sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry I took too long."

York cursed, limping as he ran, then stepped up to a dumpster, taking off a tarp to grab his motorcycle hiding underneath. He kicked it into gear and hopped on, Maine jumping onto a similar bike on the other side. Tearing off into the night, York pointed to a turn. "Let's take the long way home Maine, We don't need to be taking the long way."

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