A/N: And now, a chapter involving our new OC's point of view, who was submitted by Roman Hellfire, thanks, dude! And to all you other beasts, I need more OCs!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these shows, or any of the following songs (in order of appearance):

Six shooter by Coyote Kisses

Sorry for Party Rocking by LMFAO

0oooooooooo0

York

"So, who are you?" Ozpin asked. "I've searched for any records concerning either of you, including photo IDs, and I've come up with nothing except the fact that you've been working in a club for two months." He pointed at York.

York and Maine looked at each other. "If we told you where we came from, you wouldn't believe us."

"Wouldn't I?"

"Don't think so, no." York affirmed, and the giant nodded.

"Well, why are you called 'Agents'?"

"We worked for an organization, we were told we were taking down terrorists. They're our code names."

"And what are your real names?"

"We can't tell you." York said. "It was classified, and we'd like to keep it that way. We don't even know each other's names."

Ozpin hummed. "Well, would you at least tell me this? Why 'The Gargoyle'?"

York's eyes widened. "How in blazes do you know?"

"I'm very good at puzzles, Agent York, I've had a trace on you ever since you met up with Ms. Xiao Long, although we weren't able to see inside that warehouse of yours, my informant has been tailing you for your 'nights'."

York sighed. "I hate that stupid name."

"Then what would you use?"

"Probably my call-sign, Foxtrot-12." York told him. "And we'd call him Meta."

Maine stared at him and growled menacingly. "Okay, okay. Then we'll come up with something else."

"Well, gentlemen, I believe that is all I have for you. You may go and, worry not, I'll not be telling the police this information."

York nodded. "Thanks, Ozpin."

"Perhaps it would be prudent if I could be of use to you, and you to me. As much trouble as there is in Vale, there is more in the entire kingdom and the hunters are already spread thin. I could fabricate Hunter licenses to you both if you decide to work for me on occasion. You will be paid and have access and means to any information. Not much escapes my attention, and I could send you on missions with teams RWBY and JNPR on occasion, since you've all grown so attached."

"That sounds great!" York laughed. "Maine, I think we just went legal!"

Ozpin smiled. "However, until I can get all this paperwork filed, which will take a month, two at the most, the VPD will still be after you. In fact, I heard that Atlas has sent one of its best huntsmen in training on your cases."

"Who is he?" York asked.

0ooooooooooo0

VPD precinct 1, central Vale

"I hope you're good, kid. We need this guy brought in. He's taking lives, and that's against the law." Chief Shad told the young man in front of him, who was tapping on the desk in the chief's office as if it were a piano.

"As I'm sure General Ironwood's recommendation explains, I'm the best in class at detective work, and second in fighting. I'll bring them in." The pale boy told him. He had bright green eyes, short brown hair, and was short, only 5'3. He was dressed in a long sleeve white dress shirt with a dark green vest over it, a bright green tie tucked into it. He wore light brown dress pants, a leather belt with a small rectangle with a single music note on it as the buckle. His black socks stuck out from dark brown leather shoes. On top of his head was a light brown fedora with a bright green band around it.

"I'd hope Altas' huntsmen-in-training were the best, especially if you are at the top. I hope you bring this guy in without hurting yourself or anyone around, Mr. Mozarch."

The teen was silent for a few moments, then said, "Call me Echo. And I can do damage control."

"I'll be assigning a few officers to your aide should you need to confront the Gargoyle, I'd feel better about sending a kid out there if he has back-up."

"I appreciate it, Chief Shad." Echo told him as he stood, walking to the door.

"Hey, aren't you huntsmen-in-training supposed to be in teams?" the chief asked.

"I am a rare case, Chief Shad. I used to have a team, now they're all gone. I'll be fine on my own."

The chief nodded. "I believe Ironwood has already checked out a hotel room for you nearby."

Echo nodded, then left without another word.

0ooooooooo0

Rouge's Vibe, that night.

Rowan

The new club bouncer looked at Cole Grey, who was currently filling in for the DJ, Jake. The man didn't wear the ridiculous teddy bear head, instead he wore a pair of jeans and a denim long-sleeve, button–down shirt over a black T-shirt.

Rowan himself wore his usual gear, his short sword's familiar weight on his left side, and his flintlock in its place at the back of his waist, tilted towards his right for an easy draw. The crowd currently was good, no fights had broken out and he'd only had to escort a man out when he'd drank much, calling a cab and getting him home.

Rowan heard the song change again, one he didn't recognize, so he listened to the lyrics.

Loaded the bullets with my blood in the rounds.
Yeah, she's a sweet six shooter, she knows how to get down-
Until the kick-back, when my heart hits the ground
She said: "You think you're so tough, baby put your hands up!"

Rowan glanced Grey's way again. The man seemed happy enough, quick with a joke and friendly, but Rowan could see the occasional look of sorrow, loss in his eyes. Rowan knew it well.

Unbidden, images began to rise to his mind's eye, a needle drifting ever close to his chest, the feeling of pain spreading like a fire over his body, white uniforms everywhere. His seemingly always-present grin fell as he raised a hand to massage his temple

No! He chastised himself, shaking his head in an attempt to lose those memories back into his subconscious. As they faded, he spotted two men shoving each other angrily, and sighed, and his grin slipped back into place, a friendly look overcoming his features. He stepped toward them and then in between them. "Easy, now, boys. I don't want to have to escort you out for the night." He said.

"Look at this kid. Acts like he's a bouncer." One of the men hissed, a tattoo of a King Taijitu snaked around his forearm.

"Yeah, twerp, back out of the way." The other agreed, staring down the other he wore a black fedora. "I need to teach this punk a lesson, but I won't hesitate to instruct you as well."

Rowan sighed. "Listen, guys, there's no need to fight, so just separate and cool-" He ducked to avoid a fist, then knocked the lights out of Fedora, sending him sprawling to the ground. The song had changed again, now new lyrics began to play.

Sorry for party rockin'!

Behind him, Tattoo man backed away, melting into the crowd. Fedora got to his feet, messaging his jaw before raising his hands in a boxing pose.

The young bouncer rolled his eyes and waited until the man swung, then caught his fist, twisting it around to the man's back and pushing the inside of his knee, knocking him to the ground.

A crashing blow to his head signaled that Fedora had friends that had joined in. He stumbled, then saw Cole jumping in, sending a fist into Rowan's attacker, right into the stomach. Then followed with a right hook into another one's face. Rowan steadied himself, then charged in, two men, including Fedora, ready to engage. Rowan sent jumped and sent a flying kick to Fedora's stomach, then landed, immediately ducking to dodge the other man's blow, then twisting around and trapping him in a sleeper hold. The man clutched at his face before finally losing consciousness.

Cole had just punched his final opponent in the kidney, making fall to the ground. The DJ/bartender picked him up by the arm, and the other thug he'd faced, while Rowan bent and picked up his own brawlers, and together, they threw the men out.

"Hey." Cole started as they started back inside. "How about after this, we get a drink."

"Sure thing, Cole." Rowan was grinning.

The man shook his head. "Call me York.