A/N: So, I decided that I'd just go with one of my names and start York off with that. If everyone hates it, I'll just pull an Arrow and keep changing it until it fits. So, I went with the Golden Gargoyle, but that's what the public will call him. It won't get used in this chapter, but I'd love to hear your thoughts.

On with the show!

Disclaimer: I don't own either of these shows, they belong to Rooster Teeth

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City of Vale, 273 Ironrose St.

One week later

York stood next to the wall on the opposite side of the entrance with paintbrush in hand, a newly painted symbol now drying on the wall. He wore a pair of blue jeans and black, square-toed boots, with a belt that now held his knife/grappling hook at the back.

"Agent York, I do not understand." Delta spoke, using the speakers of his armor and the projection unit to create his holographic form at full size next to the unarmored man. "Why have you just painted the Freelancer insignia on that wall along with a tribal eagle and scales?"

"It's my new sign, I'm gonna call it 'True Freelancer'. The Eagle represents what I signed up for, to protect the innocent and freedom itself. The scales obviously represent justice, which is what we're trying to do here, although perhaps in our own twisted way."

"Oh, I think I understand. Because of these two added elements, it is somehow different from its original meaning to you?"

York nodded. "You got it, D. Glad you understand."

The Freelancer looked around his new home. Up above was his living quarters, with a mattress Junior had been able to nab him and a small mini-fridge stocked with food and drink.

Down on the ground floor, he had left it alone except for the new insignia, and a map of Remnant with others of the main areas in it and the four kingdoms hung on the walls.

Belowground, he had set up exercise equipment as well as other objects for training, including dummies and targets, on the far side of the room, and had organized his workstation on the other, a workbench below a lamp with toolboxes, welding equipment, and other tools and contraptions surrounding it.

York had also invested in a rocket locker he had found in the forest when he journeyed into it once more the train against the Grimm. When he returned with it, Delta hacked and rewrote the code to unlock it so that York could be anywhere and have his equipment available only a short flight away. He had painted the new symbol on the locker as well, to mark it as his.

Delta and York had been working on making the armor collapse for the past week, and York felt they were so close to cracking it. Delta estimated it would take two more days.

"Agent York, it is currently 8:00, and your first shift at the club starts at 9. I suggest you prepare for work." Delta spoke from the speakers, jolting York from his reverie.

"Thanks, D. Hey, can you look up any mixes I don't recognize tonight on the Web, I want to make a good impression."

"I'll be sure to, York."

'Cole Grey' prepared for work, changing from jeans to black slacks before stripping off his shirt and applying deodorant and cologne before pulling on a red undershirt and a white dress shirt, leaving the top couple buttons undone, then pulling on a black vest and dark grey gloves. He left his knife, but made sure his double-blades sword was compact in his pocket before leaving.

It was a short walk down to the club, where a line was already forming, and he was immediately let in by one of the four bouncers. Employees were bustling about, in a rush of final preparations before the club's re-opening. The club, which was apparently named Rouge's Vibe, or just Junior's, as many called it, was finally set. York stepped over to the bar, where Junior was tapping away on his scroll.

York patted his own right back pocket, where his recent acquisition now rested. "Hey, Junior."

The man looked up. "Hey, Cole, you're early. Good. Shift starts in about twenty minutes, you ready."

"Born ready, boss." York stated, stepping around the bar's end and joining the club owner.

"You look the part, Cole, I'll give you that. Red shirt's a nice touch."

York shrugged. "I didn't have any ties."

"You don't really have to dress up, you know. Where whatever the heck you want, and long as you're wearing something." Junior laughed. "Bartenders have their own style, know what I mean? Makes them easy to pick out, so if you're a favorite, they know where to look."

"Makes sense." York agreed. "But, I'll try to stay in theme most of the time."

"Whatever works, Cole." Junior told him, then looked to see two women, York's guess was late teens, which looked very similar. "Ah, Melanie and Miltia. Come meet Cole!"

The two girls, one dressed in a white dress and the other in red, approached. Both had black hair and green eyes. "Cole, may I introduced the Malachite twins, Melanie and Miltia." Junior began, "Girls, this is Cole Grey, our newest bartender. It's his first night."

"Hope you survive." The girl in red, Miltia, he assumed, said with a smirk, the other rolled her eyes, and they walked off like they were nobles, noses upturned.

York grimaced. "They seem… nice?"

Junior shrugged. "They can be a bit uppity. They're my nieces, my brother asked me to watch them in case anything happened."

"Mind if I ask what happened?"

"He got thrown in jail for possession." Junior said nonchalantly.

York blinked. "Oh. Well, to each his own, I suppose."

Junior looked at him. "What about you, got anything on your record?"

York laughed. "Oh yeah. I'm a good locksmith, got arrested a few times in the act, that and a drunk driving incident back when I just started drinking. A few others, but that's all I care to tell."

"Locksmith, huh? You any good?"

"I'd like to think so. I've made a living off of it for a few years."

Junior's face grew dark. "As long as you aren't breaking any of my locks…"

York went a bit pale. "Never, sir. It's not a good idea to steal from your boss, almost always goes south."

Up on the stage, the teddy bear DJ started up the music, signaling that the club would officially open in two minutes. York messaged a sore muscle, then cracked his neck.

Do you feel ready, Agent York? Delta asked in his mind.

York grinned. Come on, D. I've got you at my back. We've been through worse. I'm sure we'll be fine.

The first wave hit soon after that, and immediately, York found himself serving up drinks. He surprised himself with the speed with which he was able to dish them out.

"Whiskey, keep 'em coming." A man said as he sat. "I need to get this week off my mind."

York smiled, laughing at the irony of him being the listening bartender for once. "Bad one, huh?" He asked as he poured a shot glass full of the drink.

"I'm sure you don't wanna hear it." The man protested.

York shrugged. "Go ahead, I need a story to keep me entertained." He encouraged as he poured a woman wearing a white dress a virgin cocktail.

"So, at the beginning of the week, my boss asks me to do this project that'll be due by Wednesday of next week, so I say 'sure, I'd be fine with that' and of course, the other guy…"