The Requiem of Remnant

by The Black Mage of Phantasm

He was not aware of how he got to this new world. He could not see a way to return home. Some might say he had nothing...but they would be wrong. He had his wits, his skills, and most of all, his ambitions. And even in a new world, there was still an underworld of crime he could rise to the top of. A golden wind is about to sweep through Remnant.

3. Tactics

Chapter 3: Tactics

The taste of his cigar did not comfort him as it usually did. He turned the page of the newspaper in his hands as his scowl deepened.

Roman Torchwick was reading a rather interesting article. He leaned further against the wooden chair he had been sitting in as he exhaled an average—for him—size puff of smoke.

Currently, he was sitting in one of the bars that he owned. Well, owned in the sense that one of the many aliases he used was written on all the papers and documents for this place, but his boys were the ones that kept it in shape. Everything here from the service to even the smell seemed like that of a perfectly average bar. But it was just a front he mostly used nowadays to keep any spare supplies he might need for a heist.

And today, neither his men nor anyone else was in the bar. Today, he had told his men to go guard the Dust containers along with the other grunts.

Today, he sat with nothing but the newspaper keeping him company—the dark tinted windows of the bar preventing anyone from peaking inside and seeing him. Because right now, he needed to be alone and away from everything. And it was places like these—hideouts and fronts he owned—that made him feel at ease. It reminded him of times when the only things he had to worry about were the police and other criminals who were stupid enough to try and take him down.

Places like these reminded him of a time before he met her.

He continued to drag on his cigar as he flipped through another page.

And it was mostly because of her that he found himself so irritated. It was because of her that he had to deal with the...predicament he found himself in as quickly as possible.

Otherwise...

His eyes narrowed at the paper in his hand.

He was reading a charming little article published by Vale Weekly. It described how yet another Dust store had been robbed clean. It had happened in the dead night, and no one had seen what had happened. But in the morning when the owner had gone to open his store, he found all his precious commodity stolen. There were no broken windows, the doors hadn't been forced open, and there were no signs that anyone had broken in. The police were clueless as to how the thieves pulled off this robbery, but they already had a suspect in their mind. Why, obviously, it was Roman Torchwick and his men that had pulled off such a flawless heist. Obviously, the man that had been stealing Dust left and right from who knows how many stores had once again struck. So, both the police and the journalists had just added this theft to the long list of crimes he had already committed.

There was just one, itty bitty problem with that. Just one thing that might throw the police for a little loop.

He had stolen jack shit.

Oh, he had been planning to steal from there. It was one of the few Dust shops left that he hadn't already hit, and he had given his men the job to steal from it without his help. He had been busy with taking stock of all the Dust they had already stolen, so he couldn't go even if he wanted to. But even without his help, his men were competent enough to steal without him constantly holding their hand.

But when they had reported back to him after they left said Dust store, they told him that someone had already beat them to the punch. Every inch of Dust that was in that store—which they were positive they had seen lining the shelves just moments before they snuck in—had disappeared right in front of them.

He would have called them idiots—far more harshly than usual, anyway—and punished them for their own stupidity…were it not for the fact this was the hundredth damn time something like this had happened!

He growled.

Yes, somehow, someway, someone was stealing dust from literally right under his men. The first time it had happened, he just assumed the men he sent were morons—which was not entirely wrong—and dismissed it after punishing them. The second time it happened, he realized that something was going on. Maybe some arrogant wannabe thought it would be smart to try and move in on one of the most powerful criminal in Vale's territory. So, the next time they went out, he had accompanied them. Sometimes one had to deal with pest themselves.

But the same thing happened again. Only this time, they had broken into a secure vault—which he knew was supposed to be filled with briefcases of rare and valuable Dust— only to find nothing.

The only thing he saw were flies buzzing in the vault.

Someone had literally pulled off a crime—and as much as he hated to admit, a seemingly flawless crime—right in front of him.

It was right then and there he swore to find whoever was doing this and make them wish they were dead after he was done with them.

But so far, he had no luck finding said future dead man.

No matter what he tried, he couldn't find the little shit who kept stealing from him. The bastard somehow kept stealing right in front of his men—and sometimes he even stole their equipment and weapons just too further insult them. He even stole from under Neo's nose at one point. Neo was especially irked that day, and she had become more… enthusiastic about trying to catch their little nuisance since.

He had asked every one of his contacts in the black market if they had seen or heard of someone trying to sell large quantities of Dust. Ever since he started robbing every bit of Dust from Vale, he had sent an unspoken rule to other criminals that if they so much as thought about trying to impeach on his business, there would be consequences to face.

But no one—not a single one of his contacts—had seen anyone trying to unload any shipments of Dust. Which meant one of two things.

Either this bastard had somehow established a connection with a buyer for Dust that not even he knew about…or, the bastard was just hoarding the Dust. Not selling it—maybe using it for himself—and not even trying to find someone to buy his newly acquired merchandise.

All just to mock him. To tell the biggest kingpin in Vale that a bastard just stole from him, and he wasn't even going to sell it.

He almost ripped the newspaper in his hands in two.

Damn it. This had been going on for months. It had been going on even before he had to fight Red and her friends on the docks. Hell, that had been a part of the reason he wanted to supervise those animals shipping his containers of Dust back to their boss. Just in case that bastard got too cocky, he wanted to be the one to slam him into the ground with his cane.

Of course, he was aware that, in the long run, whoever stole from him hadn't put too much of a dent in his overall acquirement of the city's Dust. The bastard responsible for this might have stolen a lot of Dust in such short time—almost as much as himself when he had first started his wonderful career—but in the end, he still had more than enough Dust. One man alone could not bring down a master criminal and the abundant resources he held. Technically speaking, whoever stole from him could continue to do so for as many months as he wanted, and there would still be warehouses full of Dust with little to no space to spare.

But it was the fact that this bastard was basically spitting in his face that bothered him so much. When a thief steals something like Dust, its expected they sell it to the highest bidder. Not just by the police, but by other criminals as well. After all, no one would go to all the trouble of setting up a heist and not make a profit off of whatever they stole. If they did that, well…

The person responsible might as well not be a thief.

And the one who stole from him was not. No, he was something worse.

He was an arrogant shit that thought he could impeach on his game.

If anything else, this bastard had his attention now.

He let out another smoke-filled breath.

And also…there was another reason as to why he was so angered by this "thief." Far more than he usually would have been, anyway.

Her.

You want all the Dust in this city?

Yes. Can you manage?

Gorgeous, I'm the biggest criminal here. If anyone can do it, it's me. It'll take some time granted, but I can promise you that I'll have as much Dust as I can-.

No.

…I'm sorry?

I said no.

…Look, if you expect me to be able to steal entire warehouses worth of Dust in anytime shorter than say, a year and a half, and that's including all the other stuff you expect me to do, then you're delusional. I need time, and no other criminal will be able to do what I can so-.

Time is not the issue.

…What?

He still remembered the look she had on. Her eyes—bright amber—staring right through him. Like she could see everything about him with just her gaze—and she was far from happy about what she saw.

Both myself and my associates are perfectly content to wait as long as we have to.

He could still hear just how emotionless her voice had been.

…Then what's the problem?

The problem is…

Those amber eyes of hers had suddenly gleamed—he still swore he saw orange flashing through her pupils—and he had taken a step back. He had dealt with so many criminals—murders, thieves, rapist, terrorist, corrupt politicians—and had always looked into their eyes. The people in the past he had dealt with had done so many despicable things—cruel and horrible things that he could see in their faces—but he always held his gaze and saw exactly what made them tick. It was one of the benefits of being in this business so long—being able to read a person and determining just who exactly he was dealing with in seconds. He could always tell who exactly thought had the nerve or moxy to approach him just by staring at them.

But… when he had looked into her eyes…for the first time in his life he did not feel like he was dealing with a who.

Instead, he felt he was dealing with a what.

As in, what the hell kind of monster are you?

I don't want you to steal "as much as you can." I want you to steal every. Last. Bit of Dust from Vale.

He had never, ever felt the desire to run just form staring at someone. The terror he had felt from just staring into her eyes—cold, unfeeling, and empty eyes—shouldn't have been possible. The sheer malice he saw in them was unlike anything he had seen from anyone—from the worse criminals to even Grimm. Literal monsters of pure spite couldn't compare to this woman's hatred—and in that moment, he knew that no one else he would ever meet could.

In that moment, Cinder Fall had cemented herself as the most terrifying and powerful person he had ever met.

Do you understand?

…O-Of course, ma'am.

Good.

He shivered.

Damn it. Of all the people he had the displeasure of working for—not with, she made it very clear that he was one of her subordinates—Cinder was easily the worst. Because she was someone who could actually kill him. Who wouldn't hesitate to burn him to ash if he so much as made one mistake. Someone who…scared him.

And he absolutely loathed admitting that.

He took an even longer drag on his cigar this time—teeth biting into the skin far more harshly than needed.

If she found out about this, that someone was stealing from him and continued to do so, she would be… Vexed, to put it lightly. That bitch was a damn perfectionist, expecting the same mentality from everyone who served her. God help you if you screw up, because if you did your good as gone.

He placed the paper down on the counter in front of him, bringing up one gloved hand to massage the bridge of his nose. Shit. He should have never accepted that meeting with her. Then the worries of him being lit on fire would be significantly less than they were now.

The one good thing about this mess was that Cinder had not even the most remote suspicions that something was going on. Why would she? The newspapers were claiming he stole them and he made sure that every single one of his men kept silent about this—otherwise, there would be consequences to face. So, as far as Cinder knew, everything was going according to plan.

He looked at the paper as his eyes turned into a glare.

He had no idea what whoever was stealing from him wanted. He—or perhaps it was a they—hadn't claimed responsibly for any of the robberies to any news outlet—but then again, that could be because no one would believe him. So, what was the point? He had obtained far more dust than any one person could use, and he wasn't selling it. And now he had painted a very large target on his back

Whoever was doing this had to be up to something. There had to be more to it than just wanting to spit in his face. This mess he was in…it didn't feel like it was caused by someone who just wanted to settle a score or mock him.

Another smoke-filled breath left his mouth.

Well, it didn't really matter why this person was doing this. All that mattered was making sure that he died before Cinder could get the chance to figure out what was going on.

He slowly got up from his chair.

He supposed that he was lucky that his boss would be—in her words—"occupied" for the next few days, possibly weeks. And whatever or whoever was keeping her busy, it meant that for the foreseeable future, she wouldn't be able to come to Vale.

And that was perfect. It would give him more time to take care of this little mess.

He walked around the counter to a wooden door—passing by the rows of liquor that would make any alcoholic weep. He didn't go out the front door because it was still daytime, so he had to go downstairs and leave through the door down there.

He removed the cigar in his mouth before smothering it on a nearby ashtray and then throwing into a garbage can. He then pushed open the door at the back of the bar and proceeded to walk down the staircase to the basement.

The only other problem he had to deal with—and things like police or hunters or the mongrel Cinder told him to get rid of or even Red and her friends didn't count because he had a handle on those things—was Cinder's brats. While Mrs. Firecracker couldn't come to Vale, that did not mean her pets couldn't. And that meant he had to keep this little problem away from them or else they'll instantly rat him out to the crazy bitch.

He let out another sigh.

Damn it. He could already feel the headache coming. Cinder had informed him that they would be arriving today, so it would be in his best interest to get back to the warehouse they agreed to meet.

He took out a scroll as he continued to descend the stairway towards the dark, moist—somehow—basement. He checked the time and saw he had roughly an hour before they should arrive.

Great. There was only an hour left before he'd have to deal with yet another reminder of the crazy bitch that dragged him into her schemes.

His fingers dug into his leather gloves.

God damn it.

---

This mission was one of the more boring ones they had taken up. And the quicker they cleaned up this mess, the better. They had things to do after this.

Seriously, what was that chain smoking asshole doing? Leaving someone that apparently, Taurus thought was a big enough threat to personally ask Cinder for help alive for this long was more than just stupid. What exactly his new target knew, he couldn't say. Not that it mattered. Because whatever this Faunus knew, it was enough for Cinder to order Roman to locate and terminate him as quickly as possible.

He flipped through another page of the book in his hands. And by God, it was awful. Though, the title—The Man with Two Souls—probably should have told him that, in hindsight.

While Cinder had only asked them to lay low, for the time being, they had figured that it would be best to make sure that the situation was handled. And learning that the traitor was still breathing, they decided to act. It would be boring, but hey, they couldn't risk anything this late into their plan. And as usual, Emerald was just happy to serve their boss-no matter how tedious or dull their job might have been.

Though, just because a mission itself was boring, that did not mean they couldn't make it fun.

"What about… Third Crusade?"

And, there it was.

Mercury Black glanced at the soon-to-be dead man behind the counter. The moment Emerald had spoken those words, Tukson's expression hardened; trying not to show any emotion.

Unfortunately for the Faunus, he didn't do a very good job.

"I…don't believe we carry that one ."

Tukson's voice was careful, almost calm. His eyes drifted from Emerald to him, searching them. Trying to see just what he had gotten into. The fact that the idiot hadn't realized he was already dead almost made him laugh. But instead, he just settled for closing the book in his hand as loudly as possible. He made sure that he had on his most innocent expression as he looked up at Tukson with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh?"

He tilted his head ever so slightly as Emerald took a step closer to the counter, lips twisting into her practiced smile.

"What was this place called again?"

The Faunus' once again glanced from Emerald to him.

"Tukson's Book Trade."

"And…you're Tukson?"

Emerald's voice was playful now as the Faunus nodded his head.

"So then I take it that you're the one who came with the catchphrase?"

"That's right."

He took that moment to speak—shrugging his shoulders as he did so.

"And, what was it again?"

He made sure that Tukson could see the fake curiosity in his words. The Faunus let out a sigh before he answered.

"Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun."

"Except, the Third Crusade."

He smiled, pointing a lazy finger as Tukson stared at the both of them—placing his large hands on the counter.

"It's…just a slogan."

"It's false advertising!"

And really, it was. He always found it irritating how places like these always made big claims but could never back them up. Like the pizza shop that said it had the best pizza in the entire kingdom. The slices there were average at best, and the sauce tasted like crap.

"You shouldn't make a promise you can't keep, Tukson."

As Emerald spoke, he watched as the Faunus' head turn slightly before he stopped himself—like he wanted to look behind him. To look at the doors only a few feet away. Did he want to run? Well, if so, Tukson was welcome to try.

He had experience in hunting fleeing animals.

Slowly, he moved towards the light switches near the entrance; never taking his eyes off the Faunus.

"I hear you're planning on leaving. Moving all the way to Vacuo."

He didn't need to see Emerald's face to know that her smile had become cold. His hand slowly moved towards the switches on the wall.

"Your brothers in the White Fang wouldn't be happy to hear that."

He turned off a switch, the store immediately darkening as half of the lights went off.

"And neither are we."

With Emerald's words, most of the lights were now off—save a few here and there on the ceiling. The store was now covered in darkness—making it impossible for anyone outside to possibly see what was going on.

The Faunus' entire body tensed, And he saw the man's eyes narrow.

"You know who we are, don't you?"

He was already walking towards the two of them as Emerald spoke, footsteps echoing in the silent store.

Tukson's frown became deeper.

"Yes."

"And you know why we're here?"

When he reached Emerald, his partner's entire posture had become blasé, not even seeing this man as any sort of threat whatsoever. And really, she had every right to feel like that.

"Yes."

And the fear he had seen in Tukson's eyes—the fear that made him positive he would at least get some fun out of this—grew. Tukson tried not to show how scared he was of them, but there was no way this dead man could hide his fear from him.

He watched as the Faunus slowly clenched his fists.

"So…"

Emerald purposefully trailed off as one hand moved towards her thigh-inches away from the holster that kept her weapon.

"Are you going to-?"

She didn't finish. Because just as she was about to, the doors behind the Faunus opened. He saw Tukson's eyes widen as he whipped his head behind him.

And out stepped a person, a man to be specific. It was a bit hard to see with the lights off, but in an instant, he took in as many details about the man calmly walking out of the backroom as he could. He saw that the man had bright yellow hair. He had on some kind of blue suit with—if he was seeing this correctly—his chest exposed by a large hole in the shape of a heart.

And he saw that the man hadn't even noticed them as his eyes were firmly fixed on the book he was reading in one hand. The other held a bag of, what he guessed, were even more books.

And then Blondie spoke.

"Tukson, I believe that one of your shelves is in need of repair. It's almost falling apart and-"

Blondie's blue eyes slowly looked up from his book, and he finally noticed both him and Emerald as he stopped talking.

The fear within the future dead man's eyes had grown again. There was worry in his expression now as he took a step in front of Blondie.

"Who's your friend, Tukson?"

He glanced and saw that Emerald's grin had widened just the tiniest bit. The Faunus immediately tensed once he heard Emerald's words as he shot a glance to Blondie.

"No one. Just a customer."

He saw Tukson's eyes narrow at Blondie.

"Someone who was just leaving."

Blondie blinked a few times at the Faunus' words.

"But I haven't even paid for the books-."

"They're on the house, Giorno. Consider it a gift. Now, just leave."

"Giorno, huh? That's your name?"

Emerald was now leaning on the counter as Blondie slowly turned to look at her.

"Yes, that's right."

"Giorno-!"

"Hey now Tukson, no need to be so aggressive. Blondie here doesn't have to leave."

His lips curled into a small smile as he looked right into the Faunus eyes.

"We're just a couple of friends having a conversation, after all."

He made sure that Tukson could see the threat lurking within his words as he shot a glance at Blondie.

Try anything, he dies. Horribly.

Tukson grit his teeth. But besides that, he gave no other response. Clearly, the Faunus cared for Blondie. So much so that he didn't even try attacking them just because of one measly threat. How sweet.

But if the ex-spy for the White Fang thought that either he or Blondie were making it out alive…he'd be disappointed.

He turned his head towards Blondie.

"Hey, what kind of books you got there?"

God damn, did Blondie have some shit luck. Of all days he could have gone book shopping, he had to pick the day they come. And the poor bastard didn't even realize what was happening. He looked lost as he stood by Tukson, not understanding what was going on in the slightest. He didn't pick up on any of the subtle, threatening gestures Emerald made. He didn't pick up on the fact that the Faunus was practically begging him to leave with his eyes.

And the fact that he slowly walked away from Tukson—almost like he was taking a stroll and not towards his own death—confirmed just how much of an idiot he really was.

"Giorno, don-!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Emerald's smile vanish as she glared at Tukson. Their target immediately silenced himself, looking down as his body shook.

Blondie was a few feet away from the counter.

"Well, one's about general history. Rise and fall of human colonies, the relationships between Humans and Faunus over the years, and just general background on the use of Dust."

Now that Blondie was closer, he could make out more details about the man. He was younger than Tukson—though, how old Blondie was exactly, he couldn't tell. He was maybe a bit taller than Emerald and was kinda muscular. Though, the fact that he had molded his hair into what looked like Swiss rolls—the man even had a braided hair tail hanging on the back of his neck—took away from any intimidating factor he might have had. Seriously, it was like Roman and his eyeliner—he never understood what kind of guy would purposefully do something so…girly.

His lips moved into a small grin. Considering the way Blondie took so much effort into curling his hair, he supposed Goldie—short for Goldielocks—would be a better nickname.

"Fascinating."

He heard Emerald chuckle. And without even turning around, he knew that she was just as eager to get started as he was. She might try to hide it, but he could tell. Because she could be just as sadistic as him when she wanted to be.

"The one I was just reading was about modern weapons for Huntsmen while the other was just an adventure novel about a village protecting their town from a group of bandits."

Goldie didn't seem to notice the sarcasm in his voice, even though he wasn't even bothering to hide it anymore. Goldie opened the swinging door on the counter and proceeded to get closer. Still not noticing just how tense his friend was getting. Or how Emerald's hands were now on her holster as she smiled. Did he even notice the lights were off?

He chuckled. And Goldie continued talking as he got closer. He supposed he could attack him now…but, this was just too funny to stop now. He couldn't help but laugh at the fact that this moron still didn't understand what kind of mess he just walked into.

"Though, there is just one problem I have with the novel."

"Oh? What's that?"

"It's the way the author wrote the fights. They seem so…unrealistic."

Goldie was about ten feet away now.

"It's a book. It ain't real. What did you expect?"

"I am aware of that. But, it's just, whoever wrote this clearly has no idea as to what goes on in a fight."

Eight feet away now. And his grin turned into a smirk as Goldie glanced to the ceiling—not even paying attention to the man who could kill him in an instant.

"He doesn't seem to get the one thing that truly decides a fight."

Once again, he chuckled.

"And what's that."

"Tactics."

And then there was a change. And when he saw it, he blinked.

Throughout their talk, Goldie had seem…unassuming. Goldie had moved like a just every other average man or woman he might meet on the street. He had moved like a civilian.

But now...his stride was different.

"Whoever wrote this seems to think that every type of fight is nothing more than back alley drunks hitting each other until one is unconscious. He doesn't seem to get that when one fights, a great deal of planning goes to work."

Even though all Goldie did was take a single step forward, he could see it. His entire posture had changed with that one step—now more straight and confident than it had been before. He shot a glance and saw that Emerald was still smiling and that Tukson was only seconds away from jumping over the counter. They didn't seem to notice Goldie's sudden change.

"He doesn't seem to get that before one punch has even been thrown…"

Goldie took one more step forward—not even five feet away now—as the man's eyes slowly fell from the ceiling towards him

And they weren't anything like what he had seen before. Before, the blue eyes he had seen were confused and lost.

Now, they were cold. Calculating.

"A battle has already been fought, and the victor long since decided."

Goldie's voice had gone from conversational to subzero in an instant. Like every word had a blizzard within them. There was nothing but malice in the blue eyes glaring at him.

His smirk had been replaced by a deep frown.

Crap. He wasn't dealing with some random blonde. He was dealing with a damn killer.

"Wouldn't you agree?"

His eyes narrowed as Goldie tilted his head to one side. He had made a mistake. Goldie had tricked him into lowering his guard, and he let the man get far to close

He was already shifting into his stance, about to strike before Goldie could. He had to act now before-.

He felt something crawling on him. Two somethings, in fact.

And then he heard twin hissing sounds.

"What the-Mercury! Your arms!"

With Emerald's panicked scream, he looked down.

And he saw two objects constricting around both his arms. Two things with smooth scales and leathery skin. And when he saw their eyes—eyes that were even blacker than the darkness of the store—he realized what was wrapped around his arms.

Snakes. Snakes that were only tightening their grip on his arms with every second. Snakes whose fangs he could dimly see reflecting what little light was left in the store.

His eyes widened.

"What the hell-!"

Before he could finish, the two snakes suddenly bit into both arms at the same time. His Aura immediately activated, protecting his arms and not allowing the fangs to pierce his skin. But they still stung like a bitch. He let out a grunt, and when he realized he had taken his eyes off Goldie for far too long, he looked up.

And he saw a gloved fist heading right towards his chin. It was too close to dodge, and he didn't have the time to deflect.

So, he braced himself as he grit his teeth in preparation. And not even a second later, Goldie's fist made contact with the underside of his chin. He waited for the pain; for the moment he needed to roll along with the punch to reduce the impact.

Except the pain never came. There was no rush of Aura to his chin to protect him from Goldie's punch. There was no sound of his chin getting smashed by Goldie's fist.

There was just…nothing. He felt absolutely nothing whatsoever.

He glanced down and saw that Goldie's fist was still connected to his chin. It hadn't smashed into his chin like how he had thought would happen, but more like…gently tap it. Goldie's head was bent down so he couldn't see the man's face—eyes shadowed by his hair—but he could see that Goldie made no move to pull back his fist. The man just stood perfectly still in his slightly hunched positon-like he was waiting for something.

He hadn't moved an inch since the fist tapped his chin—expecting Goldie to do something.

A few seconds past…and nothing happened.

And he laughed. Seriously, that was it? Had he just imagined the look in his eyes before? That pathetic little blow couldn't even harm a baby much less-.

He realized something.

He hadn't laughed. He wanted to laugh, but he hadn't. Not a single sound escaped his mouth.

Because he found he couldn't move his lips in the slightest.

Or his legs.

Or his arms.

Or any part of his body—like he was frozen to the spot.

The only thing he could do was glance around with his eyes.

What the…

He tried to move. He tried to attack Goldie, but he couldn't so much as twitch. He was paralyzed, every part of his body refusing to listen as he continued to try and do something.

He glanced at Emerald—who was only staring at him with wide eyes and simply standing by the counter doing nothing. What the hell was wrong with her!? Couldn't she see that something was wrong!? He hadn't moved for who knows how long so why-!?

It was when his eyes were flickering everywhere that he saw something.

Sweat.

Sweat, dripping down Tukson's brow. A single trail of sweat that he was somehow able to see as if he was only inches away from their target's face and he wasn't in a dark bookstore.

Sweat—that for some reason—wasn't moving at all.

If it were possible, his eyes would have widened. What was going-!

He never finished those thoughts as he felt something within his chin.

Blinding. Red hot. Pain.

He would have grit his teeth, but he couldn't. The only thing he could do was stay motionless as some of the most intense pain he had ever felt erupted in his chin.

He glanced down to see what was going on.

And he saw Goldie's fist move. It was only an inch—if that—but he saw it move. He saw Goldie's knuckles dig deeper into his chin. He saw Goldie push his fist just a little bit more into his skin.

And that was all it took for another wave of agony to spread throughout his body.

What-!

He still couldn't move as Goldie's fist continued to slowly dig into his chin. And the pain became scalding.

The-!

Goldie's fist was moving faster, and he heard something crack as the pain grew.

Hell!

There was a moment where everything seemed to go back to normal. He saw Emerald actually moving now—hands on her weapon as she turned, just about to strike. He saw Tukson growling as he jumped onto the counter.

And he saw Goldie follow through with his punch as he was sent flying upward. Blood gushed from his mouth as his head snapped up from the force of the blow. And his eyes widened as he saw he was quickly careening towards the ceiling. He could do nothing to stop his flight—so once again—he braced himself as he quickly crossed his arms in front of him.

His body made contact with the ceiling with a loud crash-the wood splintering on impact as his vision darkened. A new pain erupted in his head, and his body rapidly descended back down to the ground.

And as he tried to get his vision working again, he could hear noises as he fell.

He heard Emerald let out a startled yelp. He heard more growling.

The darkness surrounding his eyes faded and he could see again.

And he suddenly found himself staring at calm, absolutely menacing blue eyes glaring up at his falling form.

Before he got a chance to react, Goldie threw a hook right into his cheek just as he got into the man's range.

Once again, he didn't so much as twitch when the punch connected. He didn't so much as feel even the slightest pain from Goldie's punch.

The only thing he felt when the fist hit him was that—for some reason—it almost felt like he was… was…

His eyes hadn't popped out of their sockets at what he was seeing, but that was only because it was currently impossible to do so.

Because right now, he saw that he was floating. His body was unable to move again—paralyzed from whatever the hell Goldie was doing— but he could still use his eyes. He could still see Goldie's fist touching his cheek as he found himself somehow suspended in mid-air. He could see Tukson slamming into Emerald and inches away from colliding with the ground…but they never touched the floor.

Because—just like him—they weren't moving. They were somehow frozen in mid-action when that shouldn't have been possible. It was like…like… someone had freakin stopped time or some shit! But there was no way that was possible! Even considering half the crap he had seen since he joined Cinder, something like this—someone who actually had the power to stop damn time—shouldn't have been-!

No…wait…

They were moving. And so was he. He hadn't noticed until right now, but he was still falling. It had taken a moment, but he could actually feel his body descending down to the ground. And as his eyes glanced everywhere, he could actually see Emerald was still moving to the ground as well.

Just…really slowly.

It was like before with the sweat. His vision had become so great that he could see in so much more detail. He could actually see his partner slowly moving towards the ground—like she was being gently pushed towards the floor. He could see Tukson's mouth widening at a snail's pace—and he could see globs of spit leaving the Faunus' mouth, moving barely an inch in the air as they just seemed to float.

If they could've, his black eyes would've widened.

The world hadn't stopped moving. Everything was just in…slow motion.

Pain suddenly erupted in his cheeks. He immediately glanced to the source of the pain, and saw Goldie's fist moving faster. He could feel his teeth rattling as Goldie's fist continued to dig into his cheek.

And after a few seconds—though really, it might as well have been hours—of Goldie's fist smashing against his cheek as slowly as humanly possible, he saw the world went back to normal. He saw Emerald and Tukson finally hitting the ground.

And he saw Goldie finally follow through with his punch as he was sent flying again. His cheek was roaring with pain as he careened through the air—his body slamming through row after row of bookshelves. He could feel his Aura diminish with each hit as his flight came to an end when he hit the window at the front of the shop face first. He felt the glass window shake from the impac—though, surprisingly it didn't break—as he bounced off it and to the floor.

His head was ringing as he quickly got into a half-crouched position, one leg resting on the ground as he shook his head to try and rid himself of his dizziness.

He cracked his eyes open as he turned his head back.

And he saw Goldie sprinting towards him—jumping over the shelves he had knocked down in his flight. Goldie was about halfway across from him now, and if he didn't get up soon, then he could already see himself going through whatever crap Goldie had done to him before with his last two hits.

He snarled.

Yeah, no thanks.

From his position on the ground, he thrust one leg backward, and his weapon activated. A compressed, white ball shot from the sole of his boot. The white blast headed right towards Goldie, whose eyes widened as he quickly dove to the floor. The explosive Dust round went over Goldie's head and crashed into the back doors he had emerged from, exploding on impact.

As wood and splinters were shot into the air—and some smoke—he quickly placed a hand on the ground. He then got into a one armed-handstand, swinging one leg up in the process as the other waited on the ground, and fired at another blast at Goldie. The man quickly jumped from his spot behind a fallen bookshelf and avoided the blast just as the Dust round hit the wooden shelf.

More splinters and burnt pages erupted in the air, but he paid those things no mind as his black eyes followed Goldie's running form.

He placed his right hand on the ground and shifted his weight there. He then quickly brought his raised leg back to the ground before lifting the other one up and swinging it around—twisting his body as he spun so he could get a better aim at Goldie. Another white blast fired from his boot, but once again Goldie dodged by going into a roll as the dust round sailed over his head.

When it crashed into another wall, this time he heard Emerald let out a startled yelp.

"Mercury, watch where you're firing your-!"

He didn't listen to whatever else she said—didn't care either. His eyes were narrowed, his focus entirely on Goldie as the man continued his sprint towards him.

Under no circumstance was he letting this man get close again.

He continued to snap out with his legs every time he spun and shifted his body—dust round after dust round firing right towards Goldie. He was swinging his legs so quickly that there was no way any normal man could have possibly kept track of his movements. Every time he shifted to the next arm, he would swing his other leg to replace the one that had just fired and let loose as many shots as he could. A barrage of white bullets headed right for Goldie, and there was no way he could have dodged.

If Goldie was a just a regular, average man, of course.

But since he wasn't, when Goldie saw the white balls heading towards him, his only response had been to slam a leg onto the ground.

And that was enough to propel him up through the air, avoiding the explosive Dust rounds with ease as they slammed into several shelves behind Goldie in a burst of smoke. Goldie came close to hitting the ceiling, but he just avoided it as the man descended back to the ground and right towards him.

And as Goldie fell, he saw that the man was now holding something in his hands before Goldie pulled his arms back and chucked them forward.

Without wasting a second, he pushed off the ground and handspring backward—just dodging whatever objects Goldie just threw at him as he heard something slam into the ground. After getting a good distance away, he stopped his handsprings and landed on his feet—seeing the objects that had just dodged.

Books. Hardback texts that had been thrown with enough force to embed themselves into the wooden floor.

His eyes shot up and saw Goldie land near the books he had thrown. Emotionless blue eyes glared at him as Goldie rushed forward.

Yeah, he definitely wasn't letting Goldie punch him again.

Just as he got into his stance—bending his legs and bringing his arms up to his ribs—Tukson came flying from somewhere in the store and slid on the floor towards Goldie, who stopped running just as the former White Fang member would have crashed into him. Instead, their target collided with one of the bookshelves he had destroyed with his Dust rounds.

"Mercury, I'm going to say this as calmly as I can."

He turned his head to the voice that had suddenly spoken and saw Emerald walking towards him before she stopped by his side.

"Stop using your damn weapons in here!"

She was by no means calm. The glare Emerald sent him was fierce as her grip on her two weapons tightened—his partner now tempted to use said weapons to shoot him the face. It had been a while since she had gotten this annoyed at him.

And he might have shot back with some snappy—and clever—reply…but he didn't.

Because he was still staring at Goldie—who was now helping their target back onto his feet—with narrowed eyes.

"Mercury?"

He gave Emerald a quick glance and saw her raise an eyebrow at him. She then blinked a few times before she spoke—lowering her voice so that it was barely as loud as a whisper.

"Are you low on Aura?"

He blinked.

"What? No."

He replied in an equally quiet voice

"Then why are there bruises on your face?"

He blinked again. And then he slowly brought a hand to the side of his face.

He didn't wince—because he had felt much worse pain than this—but he still felt a sharp sting the moment his fingers made contact with his cheek. And he realized that, yes, there was a bruise on his cheek. And now that he wasn't entirely focused on Goldie, he could also feel a similar pain aching in his chin.

But…that shouldn't be possible.

Goldie was strong—incredibly so—but that shouldn't matter. Because there shouldn't be any bruises on his body. He had plenty of Aura left inside him, so it should have guarded him against Goldie's strikes—to prevent there from being any bruises in the first place. He would still feel the pain of course, but so long as Goldie didn't get the drop on him, his Aura should have protected him.

But it seemed like it hadn't. Instead, his body was wasting more Aura healing his injuries instead of just protecting him from harm.

And as he felt his Aura slowly fixing the bruises on his face, he grit his teeth as he stared at Goldie. Goldie was now glaring at the both of them from across the room as Tukson stood next to him—bruises present on their target's skin as he held out his hands, claws extending from his fingers.

Damn it, what the hell was Goldie's deal?! Just what the hell had that man done to him? In his mind, he could see himself frozen again as everything around him moved in slow motion. He had never experienced anything like that before. Was that his Semblance? Then how the hell did it work? How the hell was he supposed to fight back against-!

Listen up boy, because I'm only gonna tell you this once.

Those words interrupted his thoughts. Those words—spoken in that damn slow, impatient drawl—made him freeze for just a second.

Because those words belonged to his dear, old, Dad.

There's some strange shit in this world. Grimm, bastards with animal parts on their bodies, magic powder that can cause things from explosions to damn lightning…

For a moment, he could smell nothing but booze.

And now, you're a part of that strange little world. Because now, you have a Semblance. A power that makes you stand out from the rest. That makes you different. But make no mistakes, just cause you're different doesn't make you special. There are other people with powers in this damn hellhole too.

He could almost see his Dad right in front of him, sipping from his flask as the old bastard glared at him. And one look at that bastard's eyes—even when they were hazy from booze—told him just how good his Dad had been at killing. Those cold, black eyes told him just how easy it would be for his Dad to end his life.

But it doesn't matter. Because no matter what kind of strange bullshit powers a man has, all you have to do is find a way around their bullshit. All you have to do is find the quickest way to kill those shitheads. Because no matter what kind of power, no matter how strong a man might be…they still die.

He let out a breath. And his eyes narrowed at Goldie.

Death comes to everybody. And it's up to you to decide just how it happens.

He hated the fact it was the words of that old bastard that actually calmed his nerves, but while Marcus Black was a shitty Dad, at the very least the man gave decent advice when it came to fights.

Any person can die. All he had to do was figure out the method to do so.

He reviewed what happened in his mind. He remembered how everything seemed so…slow.

But it was only when Goldie had touched him that he had felt frozen. It was only when the man's fists had made contact that the world around slowed down.

His eyes glanced to the white gloves Goldie wore—and the green ladybug emblems on top of them. It was obvious that Goldie had a Semblance—something that was activated by touch. But was it just through his hands? What about his legs? Or any part of his body?

It took some effort not to sigh and keep his expression blank. Great. He hated getting into these types of fights. Where for once it wasn't overtly obvious what their opponent's exact capabilities were.

"Don't let Goldie over there hit you. Or even touch you."

His voice was grave. He didn't give Emerald his usual cocky smirk, and his partner's expression became solemn.

"He has a Semblance?"

"Yep. And it's pretty nasty."

He placed his hand back on his cheek. By now the bruise had been completely healed, but he knew Emerald understood what he meant. It wasn't the first time they met someone with a Semblance that could pierce Aura.

"So, that mean's…"

Emerald trailed off as her eyes narrowed at Goldie-who took a few steps in front of their target.

"He's a Huntsman."

A Huntsman. Emerald's words seemed to be accurate. After all, not many could unlock a Semblance without some form of training. And fewer could learn how to control it without going to some kind of school.

But…

He looked at Goldie as the man clenched his fists. He looked at the man's blue eyes—eyes that looked right into his without the slightest hesitation—and saw nothing but a cold, calculating killer.

Black eyes turned into a glare.

"Maybe."

His voice was barely higher than a mutter, but Emerald still heard as she clicked her tongue.

"Perfect. Just what we needed."

His partner let out a small sigh as she shook her head.

"The Faunus was one thing, but this just makes things…complicated."

"Speaking of, how come he isn't dead yet?"

Emerald growled.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's because of some jackass having the bright idea of firing his weapon all over the place and forcing me to dodge just before I can finish Tukson off?"

Right. Admittedly, his boots weren't exactly ideal for combat in enclosed spaces like this; the fact that no one had come to check on all of the noise was a miracle. And he had been a tad careless in using his boots. But like hell he was gonna admit Emerald was right.

So instead, he looked back to the Goldie—who still had yet to move. Both Goldie and their target stood side by side, and he saw Goldie's lips moving. The man was whispering something to the puma—or maybe cat—Faunus.

He couldn't make out every word Goldie was saying, But the words he did were "crawling," "back," "support," and "signal."

He raised a brow. The hell was Goldie up to?

"Any ideas on how you want to play this?"

He glanced at Emerald as she looked at him, waiting for a response. Since he had been the one to actually fight with the supposed Huntsman, even for just a short while, Emerald figured he might have come up with the best method of attack. Just like him, his partner hated fighting against people with unknown abilities. And Emerald was well aware as to just how analytical he could be in fights, so she would at the very least listen to his suggestions. Whether she'd follow them though-.

He heard something. A set of hisses.

His eyes widened.

Now that he thought about it, what had happened to the snakes?

He whipped his head to the side and saw the same snakes from before slithering around Emerald's legs. His partner's eyes widened as she immediately aimed her revolvers at the snakes and fired. Two bullets hit the snakes dead center in their head as they flew off her legs and slammed into the floor.

And he saw his partner cough blood the moment the snakes came off her-stumbling back as if she had been hit by something.

What the-!

His head whipped back to Goldie, and he saw the man rushing towards him. And he also saw Tukson with his hands behind his head.

And in the next second, the puma pulled out two pistols—the standard ones the White Fang mooks would use—from behind and began to fire.

Wha-how!?

He dove to the floor and avoided the bullets—getting into a roll the moment he hit the ground. Emerald was still stumbling so she couldn't dodge. He saw the bullets hit her and force her off her feet, his partner going over a bookshelf and crashing behind it.

And just as he finished rolling along the floor, he looked up and saw Goldie right above him—pulling back one leg before lashing out with a kick right to his face.

Acting quickly, he jumped from his spot on the ground right over Goldie's leg. He then used his momentum to flip in the air, spinning on his sides before whipping a leg towards the side of Goldie's head. Goldie was able to block his strike by quickly bringing one arm up just before his kick would have landed. His boot slammed into Goldie's arm, but the man's arm didn't even shake upon impact.

When he touched Goldie, he had become anxious. He thought that he would experience that slow sensation again. But he still attacked because he had to confirm if that was how Goldie's Semblance worked. If it did activate, then he would lose some Aura, but it would be worth it.

And considering how he could still move his body after a full four seconds of contact, he realized that Goldie's Semblance didn't work by contact with just any part of his body.

His eyes darted to Goldie's white gloves.

Only this man's hands could activate his Semblance. And that made things much easier.

He landed on one leg before pulling the other one back just as Goldie made to try and touch it with his fingers. Once both of his legs were on the ground, he pivoted on his front foot and lashed out with a roundhouse kick towards Goldie's side. Goldie jumped back to dodge—just barely avoiding his kick. He was about to follow up with another kick, but he had to duck his head to the right to avoid another round of bullets.

He whipped his head and glared at Tukson—who returned the look in kind. He saw their target press on the triggers of his pistols, but no bullets came out. The Faunus was out, which meant that he didn't have to worry about-.

"Tukson, your left pocket!"

It was the first time Goldie had spoken since the fight began. And with Goldie's shout, Tukson reached one hand into his pocket—pistol still in his grasp—and pulled out two black cartridges.

What the-when did he get those!?

Just as Tukson pulled out their cartridges, from behind the counter Emerald—who had practically vanished since she had been shot—appeared as her guns shifted into their sickle form. His partner then pulled back one arm before slashing down. And as she swung her arm, the blade part of her weapon was launched forward—a long metal chain connecting the blade back to the base of Emerald's revolver.

He watched as the blade shot through the air towards their target, knocking the pistol and cartridges out of one hand. With a twist and yank from Emerald, the chain wrapped around the Faunus' wrist as the blade sunk into his skin. Blood gushed from Tukson's arm as the Faunus let out a short scream.

His head whipped to Goldie, and he saw the man glance at Tukson, expression contemplative.

And then he saw Goldie reach inside his pocket before the man hurled something towards Emerald. He saw something bright surrounding whatever object Goldie had thrown.

"Tukson, your eyes!"

As Goldie shouted—and as the object came closer and closer to Emerald—he saw that whatever it was he had thrown had a cylindrical shape. And he heard some kind of pop sound, sort of like a pin...being pulled...

His eyes widened. And he instantly brought his arms to cover his face as the flashbang slammed into Emerald's forehead with enough force to push her head back.

A moment later, there was nothing but a bright light. A bang that made his ears ring. And a scream from Emerald.

How in the hell did Goldie even fit a flashbang that big in his pocket!?

He had managed to block out most of the light, but Emerald, well, going by her screaming it was safe to say she hadn't. She wouldn't be seeing out of her eyes for a bit.

The ringing in his ears soon stopped. He brought his arms down once the lights faded and saw Goldie charging towards him, throwing a cross once the man got close enough to him.

And as Goldie throw his punch, he realized something.

The man didn't know how to fight.

Just as the cross was inches away from his face, he deflected it with his forearm—making sure to hit Goldie's wrist and not his actual hand.

Oh sure, he threw a punch alright. And his reaction time was decent enough to block oncoming attacks, but that was about it.

Goldie stumbled, and he saw his opening. He swung his leg high before Goldie could recover and his boot connected with Goldie's chin. Blood gushed from Goldie's mouth as his head shot upward.

His moves were standard, no style to them whatsoever.

As Goldie took a few steps back, he jumped into the air. He then raised his leg up high his leg before he brought it down. His boot slammed right on to the top of Goldie's head.

Goldie didn't have any training in combat.

Goldie was able to stay standing, but the strength of his kick made the man's head snap down. Landing back on his feet, he shifted his weight onto one foot before pivoting, lashing out with one leg towards Goldie's temple. The man raised his arm and was able to block his kick, the back of his boot hitting Goldie's forearm.

The man was strong.

He instantly adjusted his leg's position on Goldie's forearm—his heel now wrapped around Goldie's wrist. Before Goldie could react, he used his heel to pull the man forward. And as Goldie was jerked by his leg, he jumped into the air again before thrusting his other leg right into Goldie's chest. Goldie coughed blood from the strength of his kick.

And then—as he unhooked his heel from Goldie's wrist—he fired from the boot that was still on top of Goldie's chest.

But strength was nothing if Goldie couldn't even hit his opponent.

He watched as another white ball sent Goldie careening back. He used the force from the blast to flip back as he grinned. The compressed ball continued to carry Goldie for a few more feet before exploding in a small burst of smoke. He landed on two feet and watch as Goldie's body was sent tumbling on the ground before he crashed into a large pile of discarded books, disappearing from sight.

"That was for earlier, Goldie!"

His shout was enough to draw the attention of Tukson—who in the time of his short confrontation with Goldie, had grabbed the cartridges and pistol that had been knocked out of his hand and reloaded. The puma's eyes widen before shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Giorno!"

Tukson quickly rose his pistols and began to fire at him again. He acted quickly and bent his body back as far as it could before handspringing away. Every time he pushed off the ground with his hands, he could feel the bullets just missing him, and during one of his flips, he aimed his boots right at Tukson before firing. Two balls of compressed Dust rocketed towards the Fauns, who quickly hit the ground as the blast collided with another shelf of books.

Just as he pushed off the ground one last time before landing upright, Tukson picked himself off the floor and raised his pistols. But the puma didn't get the chance to fire as his head turned to the left before his eyes widened. Tukson dove to the floor and avoided the sickle that would have sliced his neck.

He turned and saw the chain on the sickle retreating back to Emerald; a loud snap echoing through the store as the blade connected back to her weapon. His partner eyes were redder than usual, and every other second, they squinted as she rubbed them with one hand.

"You good, Emerald?"

Emerald glared at him—well, she tried to, anyway—as she took several steps forward, position herself close to their target.

"Oh, I'm absolutely fine. Why wouldn't I be after getting hit by that monster of a flash grenade?"

The sarcasm in Emerald voice rose with every word. But before he could respond, he had to twist his torso to avoid another round of bullets from Tukson.

"Hey, rude! Can't you see I'm having a conversation!?"

The puma snarled, anger rising within his eyes.

"Go to hell!"

"Oh come on, you do better than-!"

He didn't finish as he heard another hiss. Or, more accurately, an uproar of hisses.

He looked down and saw dozens of snakes slithering on the floor. Some were even beginning to climb up his leg as his eyes widened.

Where in the hell did these things even come from!? Did Goldie just have his pet snakes hide in the floor or some shit!?

He quickly jumped away from the pile of snakes before whirling on his sides—the snakes on his legs flying off. And while he was still in the air, he swung his leg out as his boot fired another white ball. He saw the Dust round hit the mass of snakes right in their center, the hisses quickly dying as smoke erupted from the floor.

And then he felt something slam into his back with enough force to make him cough blood.

What the-!?

Whatever hit him had enough power to make him hit the ground face first with a loud smack, head ringing as his back screamed with pain. He had been positive that Goldie hadn't moved from his spot under the books—he would have seen Goldie if the man had. So then when, no, how did he-!?

His thoughts were interrupted as heard footsteps approaching.

"Tukson, take care of the green one!"

When he heard that shout, he quickly got up. And he saw Goldie only a few feet away from him, fist raised next to his head.

Shit!

Goldie threw his punch, but he was able to avoid it by rolling away. The only thing Goldie's fist hit was the wood of the floor—the ground cracking as splinters shot into the air. He pushed off the ground and got to his feet as he shifted his weight onto his back leg. He then lashed out a high kick with his front leg, but Goldie moved his head to the right just as his foot would've hit the man's chin.

And as Goldie dodged, he saw the man reach into his pocket before flicking something at him with his thumb. This time, the object wasn't a Flashbang

No, this time, it was just a regular grenade.

His eyes widen—for a moment, he thought he saw something yellow around the grenade. But the glow was almost instantly replaced by a bright red light and the sound of another pin being removed.

And then there was nothing but fire. His Aura might protect him from getting burned, but it sure as hell didn't stop him from feeling scorching flames consuming his body. Nor did it block the force of the sudden explosion—his body careening backward through the air until he hit the wall at the front of the store.

He let out a shout as his body slumped back to the floor; the small explosion caused parts of the ground and even ceiling to burst into flames. He shakily got back up to his feet...

And from within the smoke and fire from the explosion, Goldie jumped out—arms crossed in front of him to protect himself from the fire. Goldie somehow hadn't been pushed back from the explosion—hell his clothes didn't even look that burned—and as Goldie landed right in front of him, the man pulled back his arms.

And he found himself looking into empty blue eyes that glared right through him.

He couldn't react in time to block or dodge the punch Goldie threw. And the moment he felt Goldie's fist touch his stomach, everything slowed down.

…This was gonna suck.

He felt his limbs lock up. He saw Goldie's fist slowly moving deeper and deeper into his gut. He felt his body screaming in agony with every slow, warped second that past.

And then—when everything began to move at a normal speed—Goldie followed through with his punch and he was sent flying back into the wall. Blood gushed from his mouth as he heard cracks forming on the wall before he hit the ground again. His stomach felt like it had just been impaled as he tried to push off the ground.

But just as he lifted his head, a stomp on the back of his head sent him right back to the floor. The wood split on impact as another wave of pain consumed his head.

The shoe on his head came off a second later, and he quickly glanced up to see Goldie pulling his fist back. But the man never got a chance to throw it.

Because from behind Goldie, a long chain wrapped around the man's neck. Goldie let out a gasp as he instantly brought his hands up to the chain—pulling at it with both hands as he took several steps back.

His eyes looked to Emerald, who was pulling with all her might—visibly struggling.

And then they looked to the bleeding form of Tukson. The Faunus was sprawled on the ground as blood leaked from a hole in his sides. Tukson was still breathing—he could see the Faunus tremble on the ground as his body shook—but he was definitely out of the fight.

Now, all they had to deal with was Goldie.

And while the man was busy trying not to get strangled, he moved. He got up—ignoring the pain his body was in—and ran towards Goldie. Once he got close, he shifted onto his left foot and pivoted, swinging the back of his right leg towards Blondie's face.

But just as his leg would have hit Goldie, the man had stopped pulling on his chain. The second he stopped struggling against Emerald's pull, Goldie's body was yanked back by the chain; the man just dodging his kick. Emerald hadn't been expecting Goldie to stop fighting, so she had used far too much force and had stumbled back a few feet.

And as she stumbled, Goldie planted his feet firmly on the ground, gripped the part of the chain that floated behind him with both hands, and then the man glared at him.

His eyes widened as he realized what Goldie was up to.

And a second later, Goldie spun on the spot, pulling on the chain with all his might.

And Emerald let out a frightened yelp as she was yanked off her feet and sent flying. Goldie finished spinning as he swung the chain towards him. Emerald suddenly changed path—body once again jerking in mid-air—as she was sent on a collision path to him.

He acted quickly and crouched to the floor, Emerald sailing over his head as she screamed. She continued to fly for a few more seconds before she hit the ground—tumbling on the wooden floor before she crashed into a still standing bookcase. The bookcase began to wobble from the sudden crash, and after teetering on its legs, it fell right on top of Emerald with a loud crash.

He looked away from his partner and slowly got up from his crouched position. He stared at Goldie, who had moved at some point and was now kneeling a few feet away from Tukson's body; the man's blue eyes staring at the leaking hole in the Faunus' side. Goldie had also grabbed Emerald weapon at some point before he pressed a button near the trigger. The chain immediately started moving back to the gun, the retracting mechanism whirling until the sickle was rested back at the tip of Emerald's gun.

"You know, I'm not gonna lie…"

As he spoke, Goldie turned to look at him, expression still emotionless as the man didn't respond.

"That was actually kinda funny."

He smiled. Kinda was an understatement. It had been a while since he saw his partner make such a stupid face.

From behind him, he heard something crashing onto the ground. Turning, he saw Emerald rising from the floor as she kicked at some of the books at her feet.

"Screw you, Mercury."

She glared at him, and his smile grew as she got closer.

"Are you offering or-."

The glare became even more fierce, and he chose not to finish.

He turned back to face Goldie, who stood up and looked at the weapon in his hand. A glance to his right and he saw Emerald visibly gritting her teeth, hands tightening into fists. She hated anyone touching her weapons—whether him or even Cinder, though she would never admit that to the latter. And the fact that it was her own fault that she lost her weapon only stung even more.

Goldie stared at Emerald with his cold eyes, not even blinking as Emerald glared at him. And then, he threw Emerald's gun underhand right back to her. He saw his partner blinked before she quickly caught her gun with one hand, and then she looked back at Goldie with narrowed eyes.

"Didn't think you'd be so generous, Goldie."

He smirked at Goldie. Goldie didn't look like he was going to respond to his words, but a moment later the man spoke.

"Such a shitty weapon would be useless to me. Your friend is free to use that piece of garbage as she pleases."

Anger returned to Emerald's face as she snarled. His partner took a few steps forwards, intent on making Goldie regret those words, but she stopped herself. She slowly extinguished the anger in her expression as her eyes became cold.

Emerald was a lot of things, but an amateur wasn't one of them. She wouldn't let insults make her do something stupid.

"Why are you fighting us?"

There was confusion Emerald's voice. She raised a brow as Goldie stared at her with emotionless eyes.

"You're trying to kill me. Why wouldn't I fight back?"

He glanced at Emerald, wondering where she was going with this. She continued to stare at Goldie before her lips moved into a grin.

"Well actually, we're not trying to kill you."

She pointed a finger to Tukson—who no longer seemed to be conscious as he lied on his sides.

"We're just trying to kill him. You're not our target, just him."

Oh, so that was what Emerald was up to.

Goldie said nothing as he continued to look at his partner.

"Do you know who we are?"

Emerald pointed a finger at herself and then to him.

"No."

With that one word from Goldie, Emerald's smile grew.

"Than that's perfect."

She took a step forward as she looked at Tukson's body.

"We don't want to fight you. And it's clear you don't want to fight us. The only reason you're in this mess is because of him."

Emerald's voice was almost cordial.

"Want to know why we're here in the first place? Well, Tukson over there used to be a part of the White Fang and well, let's just say that he's upset a lot of people after everything he's done."

Goldie glanced at Tukson.

"And I take it you're one of those people?"

"Well, more like we're taking a special request from the actual people he's stabbed in the back. The person we…work for has a rather deep interest in the White Fang and wanted us to handle this."

Goldie didn't respond, still staring at Tukson. And Emerald kept talking.

"Ask yourself this. Do you really want to fight for someone like that? Do you really want to be in this mess just because of what this criminal did?"

Emerald pointed behind her towards the entrance door.

"Just leave. Who cares what happens to this guy. He's a terrorist. He deserves what's coming to him. No one's gonna miss him if he dies here."

He heard Goldie sigh, but Emerald didn't seem to hear it as she continued.

"If you're a Huntsman, then you should just do the right thing and-"

"I don't know what's more asinine. You or the blatant bullshit that's coming out of your mouth."

Emerald immediately stopped talking. Goldie was now glaring at the both of them.

"If you truly believe that I'll fall for such cheap words, then the fact that you even know how to breathe is an absolute miracle."

Goldie's eyes held nothing but cruelty. Every word the man spoke was cold, matching the frigid expression he had on.

"We both know how this ends."

The frost in Goldie's words kept growing. And it only made his eyes—eyes that were so empty—look all the more threatening.

"With either myself or you two dying."

The finality in his voice—just as frigid as the rest of Goldie—promised both him and Emerald one simple thing.

They would die horribly if they didn't take this seriously.

"So…what the hell are you two idiots waiting for?"

Goldie took a few steps forward, and then stopped as he tensed-readying his body for any upcoming attacks.

He glanced at Emerald. He saw that her smile was long gone and her eyes were back in a glare. Her fingers tightened around her weapons as she sighed.

"Well, you're smarter than my partner, I'll give you that."

She got into her stance—weapons held at her sides—and her eyes were full of barely restrained anger.

"But clearly, you're not smart enough to realize you're already a dead man walking.

She scowled at Goldie, who in response said nothing and instead continued to glare at her. And he knew just how badly Emerald wanted to wipe the floor with Goldie.

But... this fight had become complicated.

"Emerald."

Emerald turned her head slightly to look at him, confusion within her expression. And then, he spoke three words.

"Ashes to Ashes?"

He tilted his head to the side. And she blinked.

It would be a horrible idea to prolong this fight. He had been hit only three times by Goldie—and had gotten blasted by one explosion—and he felt like almost half his Aura was gone. Emerald was probably doing much better than him since she hadn't even once been hit by Goldie's fist, but she had still taken damage.

And while he hated to admit it, against Goldie that might be all it would take for him to actually win. The man was cunning, his Semblance was ridiculously strong, and it was obvious he had some experience when it came to fights like these. Where the winner could be decided just because someone made a single mistake. And several times already Goldie had proven that point. The man had been able to land devastating blows by using tricks like his pet animals—he still didn't know how exactly, but that was for later—and using damn grenades at just the right moments.

Goldie was dangerous. And it was best to end this fight as quickly as possible.

He watched as Emerald turned to face Goldie. And he did the same.

And he saw a cold-blooded killer waiting for them.

Emerald's expression became contemplative. And a moment later she closed her eyes, sighing.

"You really-?"

"Yep."

"Nothing else will do?"

"Nope."

Another sigh.

And then she opened her eyes. Her red pupils were now ruthless and positively frightening. Within her eyes, he could see every murder, every assassination and every cruel deed Emerald had ever committed. His partner had stopped trying to hide her self—her real, heartless, self—and now the only thing Goldie was glaring at was a resolved assassin.

"Fine. Ashes to Ashes."

He grinned.

"Great."

And then they moved. He swung out with his right leg and fired a white ball from his sole. And the moment he fired, Emerald ran towards Goldie. The man ducked underneath the ball as it went over his head and crashed into the wall behind him. Goldie quickly reached into his pocket and threw his arm forward. Another grenade was hurled through the air.

And it missed Emerald by a mile. Goldie's throw had been so off it had hit the spot about fifteen feet from the left of Emerald.

He saw Goldie blink, eyes widening as his head whipped to the side.

Just in time to see Emerald elbow him in the gut. He saw Goldie almost double over as Emerald stepped back and pivoted on her right foot before slashing high with her sickle. Goldie recovered quickly and brought his right arm up to his face to block.

Except Emerald hadn't been aiming anywhere near Goldie's face. Instead, her blade plunged into Goldie's left forearm—the sickle piercing his clothing and skin as blood erupted into the air. Goldie let out a shout before he threw a punch at Emerald, which she dodged with a slight twist of her head. She made sure not to let go her sickle, yanking Goldie forward as the man let out a grunt.

Since Goldie was actually bleeding, that meant one of two things. Either Goldie was out of Aura or the man just hadn't properly channeled it to protect him. Whichever one it was, he couldn't tell. But all that mattered was that Emerald now had Goldie trapped.

He rushed forward while Goldie tried to grab Emerald's hand—the one without the sickle—with his own, but Emerald simply jerked her sickle down and Goldie stumbled a few steps forward. She immediately moved into his guard again and kneed him in his crouch, Goldie's breath leaving him as the man's knees shook.

And once he was close enough to Goldie, he lashed out with a kick at Goldie's side. His boot slammed into the man's hip as he coughed blood. Goldie's eyes widened in shock, like he hadn't even seen the attack coming.

He quickly pulled his leg back from Goldie's hip and jumped from his spot, kicking forward with both legs. The soles of his boots connected with Goldie's head—Emerald removing her sickle from Goldie just as he was sent flying. And Goldie looked completely surprised by what was happening to him.

He smirked.

As Goldie was sent flying, Emerald pulled back her sickle, swung it to the side, and midswing a blade and chain were launched through the air towards Goldie. The chain quickly caught up to Goldie as it wrapped around the man's waist, and once it completely surrounded him, Emerald yanked down. And Goldie was slammed hard onto the floor with a painful shout.

When Goldie hit the floor, he was already charging at the man. He saw Goldie struggling to get up from the ground—Emerald pulling with all her strength to keep him down wasn't helping the man—and just as Goldie got back onto his feet, he lashed out with his right leg midrun and fired his weapon. Another white blast headed right towards Goldie.

And the man didn't even bother looking at the explosive round, instead, Goldie glared at him as he got closer. And when the ball of Dust hit him in the chest, Goldie's eyes went wide. Once again, he seemed shocked that he had been hit.

Ashes to Ashes—which Emerald had named—was an assault plan they had developed after their first year of working together. The essence of the plan was Emerald pushing her Semblance to the maximum.

A small explosion erupted on Goldie, the man falling back but the chain became taut before he could continue to fall.

Being able to cast illusions on a person just by staring at them was already very useful, but when used right her ability entered a whole new league.

When he got close, he swung his foot low towards the back of Goldie's knee. His boot hit its mark and Goldie let out a shout as he fell onto one knee—and when he did, the chain surrounding him began to unwrap as it whirled back to Emerald. He then pivoted on his right foot and whipped a roundhouse kick towards the back of Goldie's head. All while the man didn't even seem to see him as Goldie stared forward.

And so long as Emerald kept looking at a person, she could create as many illusions as she wanted.

When his boot made contact, Goldie was sent crashing to the ground, head rebounding off the wooden floor as blood gushed from his nose. Goldie reacted quickly, stopping himself from falling back to the ground as the man threw a punch to the side. But it was sloppy and he was easily able to dodge it by taking a quick step to the right. And before Goldie could get a chance to pull his arm back, he wrapped his hand around the back of the man's elbow. He then twisted the arm up, placed his other hand under Goldie's wrist before pushing down on the man's elbow. Goldie's arm was then forcibly extended and locked in place, fingers unable to touch anything.

Instantly, she could make it look as though a Beowulf had suddenly just appeared from nowhere. Or that the ground had suddenly caught fire.

Emerald was running towards them, and as she did Goldie once again reached for his pocket with his free arm. But before the man's hands got anywhere near his pocket, he swung his leg and his foot slammed into Goldie's ches—he made sure his hands didn't loosen their grip on Goldie's arm. Goldie heaved as he quickly followed up with a high kick, his boot driving into the underside of man's chin. Blood gushed from Goldie's mouth as he let go of Goldie's arm before grabbing the man's lapel and pulling him up to his feet.

But sometimes, it was better to go simple than over-the-top.

Just as Goldie stood, he pivoted and slammed a foot into the man's back before he could gain his bearings. Goldie was sent stumbling forward from his kick. Straight towards Emerald as his partner swung both sickles down in an x-shaped path. And Goldie's only response was to turn his head to the right.

Such as say, creating an illusion that made it look like a punch was coming from the right when in reality, it was an attack from two sickles.

Goldie screamed as the two sickles sliced his face, blood erupting into the air as his hands shot up to cover his face—and he could almost see the deep gashes from Emerald's strike. His partner immediately followed up by raising her left leg and kicking forward, driving a heel right into Goldie's stomach with enough force to send him flying back. Towards him.

Or perhaps hiding a white ball of dust from a person's vision until it slammed right into their body.

Once Goldie got close enough, he stopped running and shifted all of his weight onto his back leg before swigging high with his front leg, his boot slamming into Goldie's neck. There was a cracking sound, and then he fired from his boot.

And, if a person didn't know where an attack was coming from, they couldn't properly block it with their Aura. They would immediately try to mitigate the damage, but the blow would have done its damage and thus cause even more loss of Aura while trying to heal themselves.

An explosion erupted on Goldie's neck as the man was sent high into the air—and he pulled his leg back to the ground once his shot hit. He looked back to his partner, and she nodded her head. Smirking, he jumped from the ground and fired his boots. The force from his shots propelled him into the air, and within seconds he found himself right above Goldie at the apex of the man's ascent. He then pulled his leg back as far as he could before he spun and drove his boot right into the man's abdomen.

And so far, whenever they used this plan, someone always ended up dead.

The force of his kick sent the man hurling back to the ground, but as Goldie rocketed down, Emerald's sickles and chains wrapped around his waist. He glanced down and saw Emerald pulling her weapons with all her strength, jerking Goldie from his flight. She then swung down with a shout, adding even more momentum to Goldie's fall just as the man crashed through several rows of still standing bookshelves.

His smirk grew as he landed back on the ground. He looked up at the destroyed bookshelves—and the dust that had erupted into the air—and he let out a chuckle. He turned his head to the right and saw Emerald approaching him, eyes closed and both hands massaging her temples. She had tucked her weapons away back into her holsters.

He slowly raised a hand towards her as she got closer.

"High fiv-?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Emerald's shouts interrupted him as she began to hiss in pain. She continued to massage her temples as she grit her teeth.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to make illusion after illusion?! Damn it, I'm going to have migraines for weeks!"

Ah yes, the one drawback of Ashes to Ashes. His partner would get the worse headaches known to man—or so she claimed—and would get very snippy.

Even though she couldn't see it, he gave her a wide grin.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad."

Emerald's eyes snapped open as she glared at him, anger rising in her expression as she took a step forward.

"Mercury, so help me, if you don't shut up right now, Cinder will never find your damn-!"

She didn't finish. Because they both heard a noise coming from where Goldie crashed. Both of them turned their heads towards the large pileup of books and broken wood. His eyes narrowed as he waited, and he saw Emerald do the same—hands instantly going to her holsters as she tensed.

A moment passed, nothing happened. And he grinned again.

Yeah, Goldie was either dead or unable to fight. There was no way he was getting up anytime soon from those blows. All that was left was to go make sure they did their job and-.

There was another noise. This one was different, but at the same time, it sounded familiar to him.

He saw the pile of books and broken planks shaking.

It almost sounded like…buzz-.

From within the books, a swarm of hornets ejected from within the pile. Hundreds of yellow and black insects flew through the air.

Right towards Emerald.

His partner's eyes widened just before the swarm reached her. The hornets completely covered her face; he could see nothing but a cloud of yellow and black. He could almost hear the insects stinging his partner's face as Emerald screamed in pain. Her hands went for her sickles as she brought them up and wildly swung them around. He saw her slicing away at the cloud of insects, several hornets hitting the ground.

And then he saw blood erupt from within the swarm of insects as Emerald's screams became even worse. She fell to her knees—weapons dropping to the floor.

His eyes widened at what he saw. What the hell was going on? Sure, if the hornets repeatedly stung the same place they might actually end up hurting Emerald, but there shouldn't be any chance for so much blood to burst just from normal bees. That was-.

"Mercury! Shoot these things!"

He blinked, Emerald's words instantly brought him out of his thoughts.

And not even a second later, he lashed out with his right leg before instantly following up with his left. And with those two kicks, two white balls shot from his boots and flew right towards the hornets attacking Emerald. And the moment they hit their marks, the insects exploded into smoke as his partner was sent tumbling along the floor from the blast.

And not even a second later, he felt something slam into his gut. Something with the force of an explosion. Something that made him cough blood as he felt all of the air leave his body.

Something that sent him flying backward. His back collided against the counter where this fight had started as he rebounded off it and hit the ground.

Okay…what the hell was-!?

"You know…"

His entire body became tense when he heard that voice. Footsteps began to echo in the quiet store.

"I will give you both this, your teamwork was splendid."

You have got to be kidding me.

"Placing me under rapid fire illusions while attacking me before I even had the chance to realize what was happening is an incredibly cunning strategy."

With a groan, he lifted his head up.

And he saw Goldie slowly walking towards the front windows with a book in his hand; his expression still emotionless, but now there seemed to be a touch of boredom in his eyes. Goldie turned the book to the next page, locked onto whatever text he was reading. Goldie wasn't even bothering to look at either him or Emerald—reading his books like there weren't two people trying to kill him.

"I'm fairly certain that you broke my neck in the process. Truly, that speaks volumes as to just how effective you two are. You must have been doing things like this for a very long time."

There wasn't a scratch on Goldie. No bruises, no deep gashes, not a single speck of blood anywhere on his person. Every possible injury he could have gotten from his and Emerald's assault was…healed. Instantly.

Just how massive were this man's reserves?

"But, I suppose you two just weren't good enough to finish me."

Goldie turned another page.

"Though, I must thank you two. When I was underneath those books, I found a new novel to read later on. The Man With Two Souls should be quite the interesting read."

Goldie closed the book in his hands and gently placed it on the ground.

"However, I'd like to wrap this all up now. I have other things to do, after all."

The emotionless voice Goldie spoke in suddenly grew cold. The empty expression Goldie wore told him just what the man had planned for him and Emerald.

But if Goldie thought he could intimidate him, the man had another thing coming.

He slowly stood up, mouth moving into a snarl.

Because there was no way he was going to lose to this arrogant prick. No way was he going to get his ass kicked by someone who read a damn book in the middle of the battle. Someone who didn't even take him seriously even though he had literally just kicked him into the ground. Someone who had the balls to look bored when he should be terrified.

There was no way he was gonna let this damn prick mock him.

He slowly got into his stance. Turning his head to the left, he saw Emerald shakily rising from the corner of the room—she had been knocked back quite a bit by his blast. There was a visible cut running down the side of her forehead, but it was quickly being stitched up by her Aura. Her eyes were glaring at Goldie as she got into her own stance.

Goldie looked between him and Emerald, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh? Still want to fight even though you're both approaching your limits?"

He growled. He hated to admit it, but Goldie's words reminded him just how bad his situation was. He had already used a majority of his Dust shots and would soon run out—he hadn't thought to bring that much ammo with him for such a simple mission. And his Aura by now would only last a few more hits against Goldie's punches at best.

Looking to Emerald, he could tell that while she probably had more Aura than him, he doubted that she could use her Semblance as often as before. The strain of putting up so many illusions in such a short time would make her head throb, she hadn't been kidding about the migraines.

That wasn't even getting into how Goldie kept doing such weird shit throughout the fight—having his pet insects and reptiles strike from seemingly nowhere—which he still had no idea how the man pulled off. And Goldie had recovered almost instantly from blows that would have killed other people.

The situation was bad. He was already starting to feel the effects from Goldie's earlier attacks, the ache that had surrounded his body growing by the second. If they didn't find a way to end this soon, Goldie might just win.

"Then allow me to make this easier for you."

Looking back at Goldie, he saw the man slowly spreading his arms wide.

"I will not move from this spot. I will not try to counter your next attack in any way, shape or form."

…What?

"You're free to take as long as you need to plan your assault."

Goldie slowly glanced from him to Emerald—whose expression had become incredulous. Because Goldie wasn't tense in the slightest. He wasn't putting up any type of guard. There was nothing within his posture but damn nonchalance. Goldie was leaving himself open in every sense of the word.

Goldie was treating them like they couldn't hurt him. Like they were nothing.

…This son of a bitch...

"Just know, that you only have one attack. After that, well, I'll fight back again."

His hands were clenched into fists.

This…god damn…!

"So, I would suggest you two take advantage of my offer and try and finish me before-."

"You, arrogant bastard!"

He was shouting—voice full of anger as he sent Goldie a fierce glare. Because he sure as hell wasn't gonna take this bullshit lying down!

"Do you really think that we can't kill you!? We're damn killers and you think you can get away with treating us like we aren't a threat!? Like we're jokes!?"

Once again, he thought of his Dad. Of the long days and nights he would train him. Of how he would constantly get beat into the ground by a drunk old bastard who never took him seriously. Who never viewed him as anything more but a damn tool. He wasn't even a person to his Dad. To that bastard, he was nothing.

He was snarling. Never again would he be looked down like that.

"We're professionals, so don't you dare think you're actually somehow better than us!"

Throughout his shouting, Goldie expression remained emotionless and he did not say a word. The man's empty blue eyes stared at him, unblinking and showing nothing.

And then, the man's lips suddenly moved into a grin. And Goldie let out short, derisive laugh.

"Killers? Professionals? Please."

Goldie's grin became a smirk.

"You two are nothing more than God. Damn. Worms."

He had seen that smirk so many time before. That mocking, arrogant smirk that told him just how little he mattered to whoever wore it. The condescending look that he had been given so many times before instantly made his anger so much worse.

And it was that smirk that made him promise he would beat the ever-loving shit of Goldie.

"Emerald!"

With that scream—and there was nothing but fire within it—Emerald got up. She was almost as pissed off as he was and the moment she stood, she glared at Goldie. And he did not have to ask if Goldie was under her Semblance again.

Goldie still had on that damn smirk as he continued to hold his arms wide.

"I'm waiting."

As soon as Goldie spook, he snarled.

"Go to hell!"

He charged towards this arrogant bastard. Emerald did the same from her spot in the corner, quickly closing the distance as she held her sickles be her side. In seconds, they were both only a few feet away from Goldie, flanking the man from both sides.

It didn't matter whether Goldie was a killer or a Huntsman. It didn't matter how many tricks this bastard had up his sleeve. It didn't matter if he had a seemingly stupid amount of Aura.

Because no one-!

Once they were close enough, he lashed out with a leg towards Goldie's stomach while one of Emerald's sickles slashed towards Goldie's back.

-Got to treat him like he was nothing!

Both of their attacks connected at the same time. And the moment he felt his leg make contact with Goldie's stomach, his eyes widened.

Because Goldie hadn't even flinched when his kick hit him, instead the man stood perfectly still—like he didn't feel anything. Hell, Goldie didn't even seem to feel the god damn sickle stabbing right him in the bac-.

It was only now that he realized why Goldie hadn't reacted to the slightest to his kick. In less than a second, he had realized something was missing from his kick that should not have been possible.

The force.

He had put all of his strength into his kick. He had not held back on anything and wanted to watch Goldie spit blood. But all of the strength—all of the power and speed he had placed into his kick was…gone.

The strength had just…disappeared. But…how-.

A second after he hit Goldie—or, maybe it was less than a second—he heard something.

The sound of metal being crushed.

And then he felt something slam into the back of the leg he swung at Goldie. He felt something with enough force to send him off his balanced foot and into the air— flipping uncontrollably as he did so.

Felt. Not saw. Because even though it happened in—at most—a second…he knew that Goldie hadn't moved at all. Goldie had stayed perfectly still—he hadn't used a weapon or his pets or anything like that.

Yet something had slammed into his leg with enough power to make him backflip through the air. And just before he was launched off his feet, he had seen Emerald drop her sickle as a large gash appeared on her left hip.

He heard his partner scream just before he stopped flipping and crashed onto the wooden floor, tumbling on the ground. The moment he gained control of his body, he pushed off the ground—ignoring the pain screaming from his leg—and landed on his feet.

For about a second.

Because the moment he landed, he once again heard the sound of metal screeching as he let out a shout. He fell onto one knee as he glanced at the source of his pain.

His left leg—now lying on the floor—had bright blue sparks coming out of near the ankle. He could see the inner circuits of his mechanical leg sticking out from a hole in his pants; a static like noise erupting every other second.

Shit! There was no way his Aura could fix this!

"Oh?"

Hearing that damn voice made him gnash his teeth as he turned his head. He saw Goldie staring down at him. His smirk was long gone and his expression had become emotionless again. The look in Goldie's eyes was cold.

"I thought something felt off about you."

Goldie rose a brow as he stared at him for a few more moments before turning around. He then looked towards Emerald-who was on the floor now as she covered the large wound on her side with one hand and glared at Goldie.

"But I'll get to that in a moment."

He took a step towards Emerald, causally kicking her weapon out her reach as he did so. Emerald quickly scrambled back to her feet, taking a few steps back before reaching for her holster. She then quickly brought up her arm…

And within her hand, there was a long, white, flower—a Lilly, if he had to guess. Instead of her other sickle—which he thought she had gone for—she had pulled out a flower. He saw Emerald's eyes were wide as she stared. She was just as shocked at the flower in her hand as he was—like she hadn't meant to reach for it.

Where did she even get that flower from?

"What the fu-!?"

Emerald never finished. Before she had the chance to pull her arm back, Goldie grabbed her wrist and pulled. His partner stumbled forward, and Goldie quickly grabbed Emerald's neck with his other hand.

And then he picked her up like she weighed nothing before slamming her onto the ground. He heard the floor crack on impact, but Emerald did not scream. She didn't even react as Goldie pinned her arms with his knees. She didn't struggle or try to fight back in the slightest as Goldie pulled his other arm back—keeping one hand tightly wrapped around Emerald's throat.

And when Goldie punched Emerald in the face—hard enough for another cracking sound to echo through the store—she simply stayed perfectly still. Like she was frozen.

Emerald was under Goldie's Semblance. Of that, he was positive.

He grit his teeth as he attempted to stand up again. Goldie punched Emerald in the face again; this time he saw blood gush from her nose. He was about halfway up as Goldie threw another punch and he once again heard another cracking sound as Emerald's blood erupted into the air.

And it was at that point that his legs sparked and he screamed, falling back down to the ground.

"Please wait your turn. I'll be with you in a moment."

He looked up and saw Goldie with the same blank expression, spots of Emerald's blood now coating his face. The man's voice was cold—holding no emotions at all—as he looked at Emerald with an almost procedural look in his eyes. Like he had done this so many times before it was almost routine.

He had to get up before his partner became a corpse. Otherwise, he'd have to explain to his boss what happened to one of her most loyal subordinates.

No thanks.

Goldie once again punched Emerald, and he saw cracks emerging on the floor. This time, he carefully stood up in a way that put as little pressure on his left leg as possible. He could see Goldie's punches getting faster as he repeatedly slammed his fist into Emerald's face. Goldie's glove was dripping with blood by the time he finally got back onto his feet—almost all of his weight was now placed on his uninjured leg.

He was about to swing his leg at Goldie, about to shoot another Dust bullet right at his head…but he suddenly felt something. A sensation that he had felt some many times before. And every time he felt it, his entire body would become cold.

"If you're in that big of a rush to die…."

He had experience with situations going from bad to worse. Thinking he killed his Dad only to realize that the bastard was still breathing before his Dad stabbed him in the leg. Fighting against the old Fall Maiden and seeing her summon lighting from the skies. And in all those situations, they shared one moment. One feeling that would always be followed by dread as he broke out in cold sweat. An instinct that screamed from within and tried to warn him how horribly he messed up.

"I suppose I can oblige."

And the cold expression Goldie had on as he turned around—along with the malice that seemed to make up every inch of the man's voice—told him one thing.

He had entered yet another hopeless situation. Only this time-.

Goldie snapped his fingers, even with his gloves on.

-There was a very large chance he wouldn't live to see it through.

He felt something on his legs. And then they suddenly felt numb. He looked down…

And all of sudden, from within his pants, vines burst out. He saw the vines coming out from seemingly every part of his pants legs—making large holes as they did so—as they could somehow move, plunging towards the ground. The vines pierced the wooden floor with ease as the upper portions disappeared from view; lower half still visible and still impossible to miss.

He stared at what had just emerged from within his clothing with an open mouth.

"…What?!"

There was no way he could keep the shock and immense confusion out of his voice. His eyes were wide as he tried to figure out what the hell he just saw.

But then he heard a cracking sound.

He looked back to Goldie and saw the man slowly standing up. He then looked towards Emerald. There was a large pool of blood underneath his partner's head. Her face was turned to the side, so he could only see her cheek and the massive bruise she had on.

"I'm sure you're confused…"

He turned his head towards Goldie and saw the man approaching him. He was shaking his left arm, and from within his sleeve, dead pieces of…Leaves? Or, some kind of dead plant left his sleeve and hit the ground.

He shook his head—killing the confusion within him as quickly as possible—before he moved.

Or, he tried to. Because when he tried moving, he couldn't even feel his legs anymore. He couldn't feel anything on the lower half of his body. Before, his legs had just felt numb, but now it was like he didn't even have any legs.

He looked at the vines that had surfaced from within his pants. He then slowly moved his hands toward one of the holes that the vines had made. His fingers gripped the torn fabric, and then he pulled.

And his eyes widened. For a second, his heart stopped beating.

Because when he ripped open the side of his pants, he didn't see any metal. He didn't see the familiar pistons or prosthetics he had gained so long ago. Instead, there were only vines. Everything below his thigh that had once been reinforced steel was now a structure made entirely of dark green vines; vaguely in the shape of what his prosthetics had once looked like.

...No, seriously, what!? What the hell-!?

"I'm sure you're wondering just what happened to your legs..."

He didn't look up as he heard Goldie's footsteps getting closer. Instead, he frantically tried to think of some way to get out of this mess right now!

"Wondering how you can get out of the grave you dug for yourself…"

He grit his teeth.

"Shut up! Just shut the hell-!"

"Your head is probably filled with so many questions that it's making you nauseous. And, while I can answer them with ease..."

Come on! There had to be some way out of this! Anything! If he didn't, the Goldie would mess him with those confusing-as-shit powers!

But he couldn't think of anything.

Because there was no escape.

The footsteps stopped—he could feel Goldie glaring at him.

"I would find it rather pointless to explain my abilities to a corpse. Wouldn't you agree?"

He looked up to glare at Goldie. He was going to shout at Goldie, curse at him, call him every insult he knew.

But any words died once he actually saw Goldie. He blinked. And then he blinked again. He wondered if the blows to his head were making him see things. And then he realized that, no, he wasn't hallucinating.

And once he realized that what he was actually seeing was real, the confusion and disbelief within him were killed by immense outrage.

Why?

Because this bastard was fucking posing!

One arm was draped on Goldie's head—hand hanging off his head and swaying slightly—as his other arm wrapped around his waist. His left foot was in front of his right as Goldie placed most of his weight on the balls of his left foot, knee bent slightly.

He could feel the anger twisting his expression. The hatred within him that now filled his eyes as he gave Goldie the most vicious glare he had ever given anyone.

Because it was one thing to insult him. To punch him, to cripple him…

But it was another thing—a huge, demeaning humiliation—to have someone strike a fucking pose like some rejected fashion model in the middle of a battle!

"You motherfucking piece of-!"

He didn't get the chance to finish his roar. Because Goldie had broken out of his pose and pressed a finger to his lips.

"Now, now, no need to shout."

Goldie's face was only inches away from his.

"It's rather unseemly for someone to curse after being defeated."

He let out a snarl as he threw a hook at Goldie's cheek. The man took a casual step back and he avoided his punch with ease.

Goldie rolled his eyes.

"You know, some men would say it's admirable to continue fighting even though you know you have already lost."

Before he had a chance to react, Goldie was only a few inches away from his face again.

And his eyes were cold. The only thing he could see in the man's pupils was malice—and it seemed to grow with every second.

"I am not one of those men."

Goldie placed a fist inches away from his chin.

His eyes widened.

"Now, hold still please."

Goldie's fist touched his chin.

"This will only take a second."

And with Goldie's quiet voice, he felt the world slow down. His body—the parts he should be able to move anyway—were locked in place. His eyes flickered everywhere as he was unable to move any other part of himself no matter how hard he tried.

But his eyes quickly settled on Goldie as the man take a painstakingly slow step back. To his eyes, Goldie was moving as slowly as humanly possible as he raised his fists.

Goldie then cracked his knuckles in the same slow pace—and the noise from the cracking sounded like he was hearing something underwater. The man then pulled back his fist and then threw it forward. He could see the agonizingly slow punch heading right towards him, and he wanted to dodge. To get the hell away from Goldie's fist.

But he couldn't. He was trapped.

And when the fist finally made contact with his cheek—when he wanted to brace himself or roll with it to lessen the damage—he did nothing but watch as it slowly dug into his cheek.

And then he felt searing pain erupt in his cheek as blood gushed from his mouth. And he could see the blood leaving from his mouth float in the air as his head was slowly whipped to the side.

And then Goldie punched him again.

And again.

And again.

Every time Goldie fist struck, he could hear the sound of his bones breaking with each impact—his Aura long gone by this point. Every part of his upper body was struck by slow punches that he should've been able to dodge, but couldn't. He could feel his face slowly becoming swollen and disfigured as the pain from every blow seemed worse than the last. When Goldie punched him the eye, he could feel the black eye forming as he almost completely lost vision in said pupil. Every ounce of blood that left his body he could feel leaving—and he never thought it was possible for so much blood to leave a person's body and for them to somehow stay conscious.

But he had. He was still breathing even when he should be dead.

And just as Goldie pulled his fist back, he saw something. His vision was smeared with blood—his black eye not helping in the least—and he could barely see anything; but for one moment, he thought he saw…green.

For one moment, he thought Goldie's eyes had gone from blue to green.

But in the next second, the green he had seen was gone as menacing blue eyes glared at him. And he watched as another punch slowly approached his face. And when the punch made contact with his cheek, he felt the familiar sting that would eventually become blinding pain. As his cheek was slowly pushed to the side, he once again saw something.

A flash of yellow. For one instant, he saw a bright yellow light surrounding the man's fist. And he thought—for just an instant—Goldie's fist looked…different.

He thought it looked...golden.

[Mercury Black]

[The Assassin for a Maiden]

[Status-]

But just for an instant. Because in the next, pain roared throughout his head as Goldie followed through with his punch. And then Goldie shouted. It sounded distorted and was spoken impossibly slow, but he could still make out the word.

"MUDA!"

[-Retired!]

The world suddenly sped up. And now free from Goldie's powers, he let out a scream that he had been wanting to unleash since the first punch. He felt his body soar through the air before crashing through a wooden wall.

For a moment, he blacked out. He could feel and see nothing as his mind drifted.

But only for a moment. Because his mind suddenly screamed that he needed to stay awake. That he couldn't fail her.

He opened his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was that there was still darkness surrounding him. There was also something metallic leaning against his face. Slowly, his vision became somewhat clearer and he could see that he was in some kind cramped dark space between the walls—and, was someone…whistling?

He let out a cough, and he could taste nothing but blood in his mouth. He could feel the blood dripping down his face and the large bruises on every inch of his skin. It was only because he was so used to this that he was still conscious. It was only because he was used to being beaten until he couldn't feel anything but pain that he was able to keep breathing.

But by God did it hurt.

He groaned, and the moment he did so he felt something pull him. He let out a painful shout as he was pulled out from the wall—there was a rather large hole where his upper body had once been. His back hit the ground as blood gushed from his mouth.

"You're still alive?"

He turned his head as far as he could without making his injuries any worse. He saw Goldie standing over him, eyes narrowed and lips in a thin line as he stared.

"I will admit, that's impressive. Most would have died from the shock. Is that due to your Aura or your sheer force of will?"

His only response was to cough out a glob of blood. It landed near Goldie's shoe.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter."

Goldie crouched down as he spoke, fist raised.

"You're still going to hell, after all."

Shit, no! Not like this! He couldn't let it end in a damn bookstore! But what could he do? He couldn't move and his legs—if they could even be called that—had been stripped of their weapons. His Smebalnce was a no go because his boots were gone as well; he had been stripped of any and every means he had of fighting back. There was nothing he could do to-!

An idea quickly struck him. Not a great idea—not even a good idea at that—but it was the only thing he could think of that might get him out alive.

"You…you sure you wanna do that?"

His voice was raspy, and it took everything he had not to keep his words steady. The loss of blood was beginning to make him nauseous, but he pressed on as he glared at Goldie.

Goldie raised a brow in response.

"Is this some attempt to make me reconsider killing you? If it is, I can promise you that no matter what you say, I'll still be willing to end your life."

Goldie paused and stared at him with cold blue eyes. And he felt his heart beat quicken—even as he felt more and more blood leaving his body.

And then, finally, Goldie spoke again.

"But I suppose I could listen to a dying man's final words. I'm not heartless, after all."

Goldie's eyes turned into a glare.

"But please hurry up."

This was his last chance to live. So, he pushed past the pain his body was in a gave Goldie a cocky smirk.

"Do…do you wanna know who sent us to kill Tukson?"

"I'm going to assume someone who has connections to the White Fang."

He let out a chuckle.

"You're…You're half right on that."

Goldie tilted his head, waiting for him to continue. Good. At the very least, Goldie was listening to him.

"It's not someone with…with connections with the White Fang."

He coughed another glob of blood before continuing.

"It's someone who's got the White Fang under her heel."

Goldie's expression was still emotionless. He gave no response, so he continued speaking.

"It's someone…someone who can scare…terrorist. Someone who…who has control of every major criminal in Vale."

Still no response.

"And I'm…I'm one of her top subordinates."

He coughed, his vision darkening but he refused to lose consciousness here. His smirk grew as he let out several long breaths.

"You…you really wanna piss someone like that off by killing me? You're already in deep shit just by fighting u-us in the middle of our job. And if you kill me..."

He made sure that his smirk was still smug, even though it began to hurt keeping his mouth curled upright.

"You'll be hunted…like a damn animal."

He was hoping that Goldie would buy that. That Goldie would be cautious enough not to anger the person he just described. Hopefully, the man would remember Emerald's earlier words about their boss and maybe, just maybe…

Goldie's expression was still empty. His eyes still held no emotion whatsoever as he took a step closer. And Goldie's eyes were still emotionless when the man slammed his foot down on his wrist.

He cried out in pain as he heard the bones in his wrist break like branches. The only reason he wasn't rolling in agony was that his body was in too much pain to even move.

"I would say it's because of all the blood loss that you tried such an idiotic idea, but something tells me that you're just that stupid."

His entire body felt like it was on fire. Every muscle within him was suddenly roaring with pain.

Goldie slowly moved around him—looking down with cold blue eyes.

"Ignoring the fact that I have already killed one of your alleged boss' top subordinates, ignoring how you obviously can't back up you even work for such a woman…."

Once Goldie was in position, the man slammed his foot onto his other wrist. And once again, he let out a scream full of agony.

"You think that you can intimidate me enough just by mentioning someone else's name. You can't just die with dignity, no. You have to rely on someone else's power in an effort to save your own life."

Darkness flooded his vision. He could see nothing as he continued to scream from the agony his body was in. But he could hear Goldie's footsteps. He could feel the fingers that grabbed at the neck of his jacket.

"Such threats are useless…"

He felt his body being picked off the ground.

"Useless…"

The darkness faded. But he wished it hadn't; his screams coming to an abrupt end. Maybe it was because of all the blood loss. Maybe it was because he had been hit far too many times in the head. But no matter what the reason was, he still saw her.

The only thing he could see in front of him was raven black hair. His vision—even though it was so blurry—could make out almost every detail of the flashing amber eyes glaring at him. He couldn't look away from the expression laced with cold fury and hatred. His blood turned to pure ice as the deadly gaze sent towards him pierced his body.

Goldie was gone. And in his place stood Cinder Fall.

"Useless."

He could only hear the familiar low, almost sultry voice of his boss. A voice that she had used so many times on whatever fool got in her way. Every word that left her lips told him just how much he was about to suffer. And in that moment, he had never been more terrified in his entire life.

He felt a vicious grip on his throat and he gasped. He saw that Goldie was back and that his frightening gaze was locked right onto him. The last bit of air left in his body was slowly leaving him as everything around him grew hazy.

Well…he guessed this was it.

Through his hazy vision, he watched as Goldie pulled back his fist.

See you in hell, Da-.

He saw something. Well, someone.

As his eyes—well, more like eye considering how badly damaged his left eye was—followed Goldie's fist, he saw someone crawling on the ground.

Emerald.

Shouldn't she be dead?

He saw her—bloody, face swollen and bruised that it might actually be worse than his own—slowly crawling towards one of her sickles.

Oh, right…that cracking sound he heard before wasn't her neck or bones.

He saw Goldie eye's narrow.

"What are you looking at?"

Goldie turned around, and his eyes went wide as he saw Emerald pick up her weapon.

It had been the floor. Goldie had hit the floor and not Emerald with his last strike.

Goldie was about to say something, but he never got the chance before Emerald shifted her sickle into her gun form, and then fired from the ground.

She must have used her Semblance on Goldie when the man had turned to face him.

The bullet hadn't been aimed for Goldie but instead—as he followed the path of trajectory—he saw the bullet head for…the hole he emerged from? Why would-.

Oh.

Now he saw why. And now he knew what that whistling sound he heard—and had still been hearing for a while now—was.

Gas.

Gas, from the pipes that he had broken when Goldie smashed him through a wall.

Gas, made from Dust that was most likely extremely flammable.

Gas, that had been ignited the moment Emerald's bullet hit the pipes.

And then all he saw were flames.

To Be Continued~

Hello, all you wonderful readers out there!

First, let me just say thank you for all the support you've been showing this story! The amount of reviews and favorites and follows this story's been receiving has astounded me! So again, thank you all so much!

Now then, the next update won't be for a while. I'm trying to upload a new chapter of my main stories every month, so in February all try to upload a new chapter of my new story, The Lazy Painter. Then in March, I'll try to upload a new chapter of Gems are Unbreakable. And then in April, we get back to Requiem. So sorry, but I hope you all understand!

If you have any thoughts, suggestion, or theories as to where this story is going, don't be afraid to say so in the reviews! Or if you want to have a general discussion about this fic, head on over to SpaceBattles where I've also uploaded this story!

This is the Black Mage of Phantasm signing off! Peace