Professor Port plopped down on the pilot's seat; a captain's hat perched jauntily on his gray hair. The Bullhead door shut with a series of impressive-sounding hisses and clicks. "Huntsmen and Huntresses! Welcome aboard Port Airlines, Flight 1, Beacon to Mountain Glenn. Stow your tray tables and fasten your seatbelts while the seatbelt sign is on...ah, you don't need those, you've got Aura. Your captain today is me! Peter Port! And your first officer is...erm...Zwei." Light panting came from the co-pilot's chair. It'd been quite the surprise when Qrow not only allowed the dog on board, but revealed that he'd specifically asked Taiyang Xiao Long to send it over. As he explained things, they could use a tracker on their mission (seemed reasonable enough), along with the extra firepower (not so much). The other ten of their party packed the small passenger cabin, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder on the benches. Blake sat as far back as possible, glaring at their Huntsman in deepest betrayal.

"Professor Port? Why are you flying?" Weiss questioned. "Surely we should have an actual pilot?"

"Preposterous, my dear girl!" Port boomed. "I'm perfectly qualified! Why, when I was a young man, I was the terror of the skies! Did the Kuchinashi Run in 12 parsecs! And don't call me Shirley! Ha-ha!" The fat man guffawed and slapped his knee repeatedly.

Qrow groaned loudly. A few giggles escaped Yang's mouth, but she hastily passed it off as a coughing fit. "Welp." The blonde Huntress yawned. "Guess we'll get there sometime in fourth year." No sooner had she spoken than the engines roared to life. The Bullhead blasted off the pad at a near-horizontal angle, snapping a few unlucky lamp posts like twigs. It buzzed Beacon's main avenue at low altitude, sending the crowd of anonymous students ducking for cover. The sudden acceleration dumped all the passengers onto the floor, with much shouting and swearing.

"What the hell, Pete?! You ever seen a Bullhead before?" Qrow yelled. He'd picked a most unfortunate time to refill his flask, and now his pants were soaked with cheap booze. "This thing's a VTOL! It's supposed to go up, not sideways!"

"Ah, that's just what they tell beginners, Qrow! I'm an old hand at this, and—" Alarms blared in the cockpit. Zwei started barking frantically. "Gadzooks!" Port yanked the control stick hard left; the CCT Tower flashed by the starboard window, uncomfortably close.

"It's just like the docks! Remember that, Renny?" Nora giggled in nostalgia. "Ooh! Hey, Prof—"

"Don't say it!" Ren begged.

"—do a barrel roll!"

"Ha! Why not?" Before anyone could object, the Bullhead pitched sharply up, flipping over upon itself. The view out the windows flipped between trees, sky, and Beacon, with dizzying speed. "Nora, you fool! You've killed us!" Weiss shrieked. Bodies went flying around the cabin like clothes in a washing machine, bouncing off walls and seats and each other. It was fortunate that the sharper weapons were in storage mode, else someone would most likely have lost a limb. Qrow somehow managed to get hit in the face with Pyrrha's shield, Jaune's shield, and Zwei, all in a row, but pulled off an amazing reflex dodge to avoid a direct nut-shot from Magnhild. The Bullhead reached its apex, then began a stomach-churning plunge straight down towards the Emerald Forest. 'WARNING. TERRAIN. PULL UP.' an automated voice droned. 'PULL UP. PULL UP.'

"HOLY FUCK—"

"Not like this! Not like this!"

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH—"

"BARK!"

It seemed that their tale was about to meet an abrupt and very messy end, but by some miracle, the Bullhead levelled out mere feet above the treetops. Its engine exhaust set a couple of pines on fire before it sped off. The laws of gravity reasserted themselves, and everyone crashed to the floor in a tangled heap.

"Ho ho! That got your attention, now didn't it?" Captain-Professor Port laughed maniacally. "Are you not entertained—" He suddenly gulped and went quiet. Qrow had staggered to the front of the ship, weapon in hand. He folded Harbinger's blade down to expose its two shotgun barrels, and pressed them both firmly against Port's beefy neck. "Pete." Qrow growled. "Pull that shit again, and I'll take my chances with Zwei's piloting, are we clear?" Zwei climbed onto the professor's lap, snarling. For such a cute creature, he had awfully large and pointy teeth.

Port sweatdropped. "Erm...clear as day."

The students were left to slowly extricate themselves, like doing a jigsaw puzzle (except the complete opposite). "Weiss, can you get off my leg?" Ruby said. "Okay, now—eep!" she suddenly yelped. "Something's poking my butt!" Qrow whipped around, eyes narrowed. Harbinger's blade began to split apart and curve with an ominous grinding of gears. "Oh. That's my, um...spear." Pyrrha apologized. "Sorry." Satisfied that his niece's virtue was safe, Qrow went back to supervising Professor Port with a sheepish shrug.

"I don't feel so good." Jaune grunted from the bottom of the pile. That got everyone to split apart in an instant, as if by magic. The way he clutched his stomach, and the gagging noises emanating from his throat, gave little doubt as to what was about to happen. They were trapped in a high-speed metal coffin with a ticking human bomb, hundreds of feet above the ground and nowhere to run.

Nora whimpered in distress. The hyperactive girl looked genuinely petrified for once. "I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go. I'm so sorry..." She hugged Ren tight, hiding her face in his shoulder. "I'm scared, Ren."

"Me too." Ren stroked her hair, his own voice trembling. The childhood friends desperately pressed themselves against a wall. "We have to be brave, Nora. It's okay. It's okay..."

"Jaune, no! Fight it!" Ruby dropped to her knees in supplication. She spouted a stream of random motivational phrases. "Hang in there! Never give up, never surrender! Stay determined! Power of friendship!" Jaune slapped both hands over his mouth. Tears were starting to spill from his eyes. "Believe in yourself! And, uh, I believe in you too! Um...believe in me, who believes in you?"

"Weiss, in my bag! Quick!" Sable shouted. He grabbed his partner by the hood, practically grinding the poor boy's face into the floor. "Now, hold it in! Think about how disappointed we'd be! Don't be scared of motion sickness, Jaune, be scared of me!"

Yang nodded. "Yeah! You can do it, man! Or else I'll...I'll start calling you Vomit Boy again!" Jaune's body thrashed in agony. Increasingly loud groans of discomfort echoed through the Bullhead. "Come on, just a bit more. We're almost there—wait, it's only been, like, five minutes, oh gods oh fuck—"

"Found it!" Weiss threw a small glass bottle across the cabin. It arced through the air, glowing like an angel sent by the God of Light himself to rescue them in their darkest hour, and landed in Sable's outstretched hand. It was full of round black tablets, and sported a charming sticker depicting a cartoon figure tossing his cookies.

Vom-B-Gone

Active ingredients: dimenhydrinate, Gravity Dust

Disclaimer: Vom-B-Gone is a registered trademark of Schnee Pharmaceuticals, a subsidiary of the Schnee Dust Company. The Schnee Dust Company is not responsible for any side effects resulting from use of Vom-B-Gone, including but not limited to drowsiness, headache, euphoria, temporary blindness, vomiting, and death.

Carefully, Sable dispensed two pills from the holy Relic of Anti-Nausea into Jaune's mouth. The blond boy swallowed, twitched a few times, then went limp, his pained expression replaced with one of peace. The whole cabin let out a collective breath of relief. The more outgoing among them let loose with cheers and applause, while the more reserved ones whispered prayers of gratitude for their salvation. It seemed the power of drugs had accomplished what the power of friendship could not.

Yang whistled. "Damn, your company actually makes those pills? I was only joking back then!" She prodded Jaune with her boot, the very same one he'd puked on twice before. "How're you feeling?"

Jaune drew a few ragged breaths, and patted his stomach. "Huzzah!" He jumped to his feet, with a cheer that seemed more in-character for Nora or Penny than himself. "I'm free! I'm free! Vomit Boy no more!" Jaune pranced around the Bullhead, grinning from ear to ear, then unexpectedly wrapped Sable in a tight embrace. "You...you are the greatest hero in Remnant's history. You beautiful icy-hot bastard, you!"

"What—personal space, dammit!"

"Hey, hey, that's my nickname!" Yang complained. Not to be outdone, she pulled both boys into a hug of her own. "Screw it. Group we-didn't-get-puked-on hug, guys!"

"Heck yeah!" Nora belly-flopped her way into the celebration. "I love not being covered in half-digested stomach contents! Who doesn't!"

"Gods damn it..." Sable choked out. "Once I get out of here...you're all dead." It would've been more intimidating if he didn't sound half-dead from oxygen deprivation. Weiss snapped a few pictures on her Scroll, smiling in the way only a sister collecting future blackmail material could.

Yang eye-rolled. "Thanks, man. Love you too."

"Yep!" Jaune agreed. "H-hey! Did someone turn off the lights, or am I going blind?" His voice wavered for a moment, before returning to its obnoxiously chipper tone. "Oh well! I'm sure it'll fix itself!"

Qrow watched their antics, completely nonplussed. "Kids these days." he muttered. "I swear, when I went to Beacon, we didn't act nearly that weird."

Port coughed lightly. "Hm. I distinctly recall someone wearing a skirt on his first day, I wonder who—"

"I wasn't asking you." Qrow's eye twitched. "Shut up and fly."

After what felt like the longest Bullhead trip of their lives, they'd finally arrived at abandoned Mountain Glenn. The city's architects had clearly prioritized practicality over all else, and decades of neglect hadn't done much for its aesthetics. Those drab, identical, concrete high-rises had been grim enough in life, but in death, windows and paint long gone, they were even grimmer (Grimmer?). It was like standing in the middle of a massive corpse, flesh and sinews and any semblance of humanity long since rotted away, with only dry crumbling bones left behind. Not that anyone cared. Mountain Glenn might as well have been a tropical paradise, so glad they were to have survived their trip on Port Airlines. The Bullhead was half-embedded in the ruins of a donut shop, spewing smoke. Once upon a time the shop had been called something like 'Mountain Glenn Donut House', but thanks to the ravages of time and Port's ill-conceived landing strategy, the storefront now read 'MOUNT NUT HO E'.

Now back on solid ground, Qrow finally felt safe enough to grab a refill. He took a much-needed drink from the flask, smacking his lips. "No one died, right? Ten...eleven...twelve. Nice." Behind him, the students (and Zwei) clambered out of the wreck. Ruby kissed the dusty ground over and over. Jaune blinked and rubbed his eyes. Thankfully for his vision, and for Sable's sanity, the effect of the pills had eventually worn off. He mumbled apologies about 'respecting boundaries' at his partner, who still looked greatly annoyed.

"That building came out of nowhere!" Port said defensively. "Bah! All's well that ends well. A good landing's one you can walk away from, I always say!"

Blake stared at the crashed ship, facepalming. "Let's hope the White Fang didn't notice that."

"I mean, their base is way underground, right? We should be fine." Yang reasoned. "And worst case, we can just...fly back out..." The Bullhead's right engine burst into flames and fell off. "All right, that might be a problem."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Yang. Now where did I—ugh." Qrow searched through his bag, before giving up and dumping its contents onto the ground. Out flooded far more crap than should've fit in it: several pairs of goggles, mysterious bricks wrapped in green plastic, a walkie-talkie, instant meals, dog food, a bottle of Six Swans Vodka, a book with a scantily clad ninja on the cover (Qrow hastily put that one back in the bag), and a wrinkled sheet of paper. "Alright kids, gather 'round. Here's the deal." He smoothed out the paper. It was a map of Mountain Glenn, depicting the streets and the subway system. A large and slightly lumpy circle dominated the subway, with smaller lines branching out from it. "Like you can see, the main line goes in a loop around the city. Starts and ends at Glenn Central Station, right here—that's where it links to Vale." A large arrow at the northwest corner of the map, helpfully labelled 'To Vale', made that obvious. "Or used to, until they, you know, sealed it up. Plan is I take half the loop, Pete takes the other, we go down there and start looking. Mind you, there might a lot more tunnels than what's on the map. The whole city was living in the subway by the end, and they were kind of too busy fighting for their lives to keep the maps up to date, so gods know how long it'll take. Hope you all like MREs." There were scattered groans from the crowd. "Suck it up. What do you expect out here, an all-you-can-eat buffet?"

"Any of them fish?" Blake asked hopefully.

"Will you shut up about your fish?" Sable snapped. "That's it. When we get back, you're going on a diet."

Blake mewled in distress, turning to her partner for support. Yang shook her head. "No, he's right. After what happened this morning, we're way overdue for an intervention." She patted the seafood addict's shoulder consolingly. "Now, Blake, the first step is admitting you have a problem—"

Qrow coughed. "Briefing now, banter later. Anyways, couple more things to keep in mind. First, it's real dark down there, they're all faunus, and we're...not." Blake avoided his gaze. Shrugging, Qrow picked up a pair of goggles. "That's what these are for, so we don't end up like General Lagune and his lemmings. Night vision goggles. Atlas's latest and greatest."

Yang regarded the thick green lenses with distaste. "Not really my style."

"Again, suck it up. We're here to do our jobs, not look pretty for the cameras." Qrow said. "Second, if you see something suspicious, point it out. Quietly. For the love of all the gods, don't just run in blasting. We'll pull back, let the other team know—that's what this is for, see the 'Talk' button?" He dangled a walkie-talkie by its antenna. "Everyone gets together, we scout out what we're dealing with, we figure out the best way to blow their little operation. Maybe literally." Qrow tapped one of the green-wrapped bricks. "That's what those are for."

Blake nodded in recognition. "C-4..."

"What's that?" Jaune asked.

"Plastic explosive." Sable explained. "A specially formulated Dust blend, optimized for brisance and shock-insensitivity, mixed with a binding agent and a plasticizer for malleability purposes—"

Jaune was even more confused. "A wha—what?"

"It's a bomb." Ruby said helpfully.

"More or less." said Weiss. "A SDC invention, as a matter of fact. It's useful for mining." She gave Blake a mildly impressed nod. "I'm surprised you know what it is, Blake. I don't think Huntsmen use the stuff much."

"Um..."

"It's useful for blowing things up in general. As the White Fang figured out." Sable's mouth twisted into a cold smile. "Giving them a taste of their own medicine, huh? I can appreciate that."

Qrow glared at him. "Control yourself. We're not here to indulge your personal revenge-fantasies, understood?" Sable clenched his jaw so hard it seemed his teeth would splinter. "I'll take that as a yes. Now, about who goes with who—"

"Leave it to me!" Port thundered. He'd remained quietly off to the side during the briefing, but now rejoined them. The professor held out two crumpled balls of paper, one in each hand. "Pick one, Qrow! I thought we'd leave it to luck of the draw, you see?"

Qrow sighed. "Screw you, Pete." He unfolded one of the paper balls. On it was drawn what looked like an eight-pointed star. "What is this, some sort of demonic symbol?"

"Erm, no, it's a snowflake..."

"Same thing, really." Qrow muttered. "All right, Team SJBY, you're with me." Port unfolded the other paper, revealing a scribble that looked almost, but not entirely, unlike a rose. "And Team RRWN with me! Lucky you!" he roared. Ruby collapsed to the ground in despair. "Come now, Miss Rose, do try and contain your excitement! No need to faint on my account."

Yang whooped in delight. "We got Qrow! Hell yeah! Oh...oh, Rubes, I'm sure it'll be okay." She hugged her sister, who was still slumped over in the middle of the street. "Er...Professor Port has to be good for something, right? I mean, it sure isn't teaching...or flying...but, uh, I'm sure Ozpin hired him for a reason."

Ren bowed his head. "I suppose this is where we part ways." he said formally. "I wish you good fortune, in the battles to come."

Nora clapped her partner on the shoulder. "Ah, don't be so dramatic, Renny! They'll be fine! At least I think so! No one collected any death flags at the dance, right? Like, uh..." She made a circle with her right hand, and thrust her left index finger into it repeatedly.

"What?!" Jaune shrieked. "No! Nothing like that happened!"

"It better not have." Yang growled. She kept Ruby trapped in her embrace, ruffling the younger girl's hair. "Stay safe, Rubes. I love you. Remember to brush your teeth and eat your vegetables and—"

"Yang, stop it." Ruby let out muffled groans of protest. "But, um, I love you too."

The other sibling pair said goodbye in very different fashion. Weiss and Sable approached to an arm's length apart, and gave each other the tiniest of nods. "Well, good luck. See you later." said Weiss.

"Same." said Sable. "So...what do you say, a hundred Lien our team finds the base first?"

"Don't be a child." Weiss scoffed. "Come on, only one hundred? Seems you don't have much faith in your teammates." She shot her brother a challenging look. "Three hundred."

"A thousand!" Sable countered. "Too much for you?"

"Deal." Weiss agreed. The twins solemnly shook hands. "Sable, why on Remnant would I be afraid of a thousand Lien? You do realize it's all Father's money anyways?"

Yang mimed wiping away tears. "Geez, talk about heartwarming." she said sarcastically. "What, too good for 'I love you'? 'Take care'? 'Please don't die'?"

"We're not going to die!" Sable said heatedly. "Besides, that's implied, isn't it? She can't pay up if she's dead!"

Nora winced. "Ooh, death flag."

"You—you could at least say something nice, right?" Ruby added. "Not just talk about...money." She pressed up against Weiss's arm, donning her cutest smile; for a moment, her silver eyes transformed into silver Lien signs. "But say, Weiss, if you win your bet, it'd only be fair to share, right? Have I ever told you, that you're the best partner I've ever had—"

Qrow cleared his throat. "Wrap up the comedy skit, kids. At this rate, old age'll get us before the Fang does." He turned on his heel and walked briskly down the street. Port slung his blunderbuss-axe over his shoulder and went the opposite way; the students scrambled after their Huntsmen. Weiss lingered behind, trying to think of some suitably witty/poignant/memorable parting words. "Um..."

Sable waved a hand impatiently. "Yeah, I know." Having fulfilled their quota of family affection, the twins ran after their teams. Pyrrha was stranded in between the two groups, head swivelling back and forth at whiplash-inducing speed. "Wait, where do I go?!" she cried.

"Pick a side, Cereal Girl! Today would be nice!" Qrow called back at her. Pyrrha dithered a few more seconds, then sprinted for Ruby's retreating back. Zwei ran past Team SJBY, panting happily, to lope at Qrow's side.

Blake groaned. "Great. They get Pyrrha, and we get...a dog."

"No, weren't you listening? We've got a tracker." Yang insisted. "Let me tell you how it'll go. Good boy sniffs out the base for us, we win that thousand Lien, we kick their asses, we head back to Beacon and party. Watch this." She whistled sharply. "Zwei! Find the White Fang!"

Zwei's nose twitched, his tail wagged, and his ears perked up. The team watched in varying degrees of anticipation/skepticism, only for the dog to turn around and charge right at Blake. Again. This time, she was better prepared. Jumping off a clone, the dark-haired girl hurled Gambol Shroud at one of the many empty windows around them. Its folded blade caught on the sill, and Blake came to a stop three stories off the ground, dangling from her ribbon, while Zwei barked at her from below.

Sable looked distinctly unimpressed. "Yang, I think your dog is broken."

"—and then, I said to the guards: 'I have tequila, will you boys let me by?'" Peter Port paused for dramatic effect. His five students didn't react in the slightest; they just kept trudging down the street with glazed eyes. Peter continued, slightly discouraged. "I was quite eager to dispense with the disguise at that point, for you see, the coconuts I had stuffed in my brassiere were beginning to chafe my nipples!" Still no reaction. Okay, they definitely weren't listening. This was exactly why he preferred to let Blowhard do the talking. An axe to the face had a way of getting people's attention like his words never could. Yes, Peter was well aware of his reputation among the student body, thank you very much. It was inevitable, with his Semblance being what it was. Few people knew of it, but ever since he was a little boy, the sound of his voice had caused unnatural feelings of boredom and lethargy in all who heard it. Needless to say, that had always made making friends a bit tricky, though it had its good points as well. Peter still fondly remembered his first combat class at Beacon, when he'd put his opponent to sleep, along with his teacher and half of the first year. Luckily, he'd learned how to moderate his voice's effect during his school days, though it was impossible to completely turn off. After graduation, he'd hunted alone for a very long time, before Ozpin came with a job offer. Thanks to his age, lack of social life, and personal interests, Peter had spent more time studying Grimm than almost any Huntsman alive. And for that, Beacon's headmaster proved remarkably willing to tolerate his more...eccentric traits.

A growl interrupted his thoughts. Oho! A large Beowolf blocked the road they were walking on. More streamed in from alleys on either side, adding to the cacophony. Whether the students' collective boredom had attracted them or whether it was pure chance, Peter was grateful for the diversion. "Look alive, children! Let's see what you make of this!"

"Let's kill them!" Nora roared, instantly breaking out of her stupor. Peter felt a thrill of anticipation. Blowhard was practically vibrating in his hand; he gave his faithful old companion a soothing pat. Easy, girl. Our time will come. Gods, how badly he wanted to just start slicing. Those few students who saw him in action never looked at him as boring old Professor Port again. Their gazes became tinged with respect, and dare he say, a healthy bit of fear...but no, this was the children's chance to shine. The mission promised more battles ahead, anyways, against more exotic foes than Grimm. Ahh...he shivered with excitement, before calming himself. It was best to be careful with those urges. Red blood was exciting, but it didn't wash out near so easy as black.

"Should we, though?" Pyrrha said uneasily. "I mean, the noise might blow our cover."

Hmph. Peter would've thought a four-time tournament champion would be more eager to fight. "Well, Miss Nikos, they've already spotted us." he huffed. "So unless you can somehow make us invisible—"

Ruby snapped her fingers. "That's it! Ren, cloak us!" The strangest feeling came over him, as if someone had thrown a heavy blanket over his soul. His jacket faded to dark gray, pink sparks dancing over it. The Beowolves stopped advancing, looked at each other in bafflement, shrugged (as much as soulless creatures of darkness could shrug), and dispersed back into the alleyways. "His Semblance masks emotions." Ruby explained dully. "Pretty useful out here, isn't it?" Peter nodded. Yes, useful indeed. Considering their mission objective, it was only rational to avoid fighting Grimm as much as possible, in order to remain concealed and conserve their resources.

"Okay, Ren, let it go." Color flooded back into him, burgundy jacket and gold buttons...and blue balls. Only his well-honed manly stoicism prevented him from sobbing aloud. No! His entertainment! His chance to impress! His beautiful Grimm bits flying all over the place! Gone...all gone. Confound it all, he knew he should've picked Team SJBY. Qrow, that lucky bastard, was probably having a rip-roaring good time with them.

Qrow Branwen was not having a good time. A Schnee, an Arc, a Belladonna, and a (sort of) Branwen? That sounded like a joke about four people walking into a bar, not a team of Huntsmen to entrust with a critical mission. A fine bunch of teammates Yang had found for herself. He'd blame his Semblance, except that he'd been nowhere near Beacon on initiation day.

"Hey, Branwen! Where the hell are you taking us?" The Schnee boy's grating voice was giving him a headache. Qrow was going to think of him as that, until he came up with a suitably clever and belittling nickname. "We're supposed to head for Merlot Street station!" No way in hell was he using Icy-Hot, even if Yang thought it fit, which was pretty concerning in itself. He'd suspected his elder niece might have a thing for bad boys, but he'd been thinking 'cool rebel', not 'frigid sociopath'.

"Thanks. I realized that." Qrow said with great forbearance. "Listen, kid, I've doing this since you were in your daddy's nutsack. I graduated top of my class from Beacon. So how about you trust me to read a map? I'm a professional Huntsman, not a fucking illiterate." Was he allowed to say that on a school mission? Fuck it, they were training to kill monsters, their ears could survive a couple swear words. Wasn't like Oz employed him for his squeaky-clean vocabulary.

The not-so-little bastard jabbed a thumb to his left. "Yeah, you say that, but I'm pretty sure we're supposed to take a turn here."

Qrow waved the map in his face. "Well, you'd be wrong. That was only the third left, we go on the fourth." Left on Cabernet, then right on Merlot—damn it, whose idea was it to name these streets after wine? It was making him thirsty. "Did they not teach you how to count back in Atlas, or something?"

"That was four!" the Schnee insisted. "One of them had a bunch of rubble blocking it. You probably missed it, what with all those pink Goliaths you're seeing." For gods' sake, Qrow hadn't had any drunken hallucinations since he was, like, twelve. If there was one thing he would not abide insults to, it was his alcohol tolerance. The brat's face was looking more punchable by the minute; his uncanny resemblance to a theoretical Raven/Winter love child didn't help his case.

"I think that might've been a parking lot." Blake muttered. Oh, and that one might prove an even bigger pain. He wasn't sure any of them realized, but Qrow noticed how the secret faunus walked slightly apart from her teammates. Tempting as it was to tag her with a cat-related nickname, if he accidentally said it out loud things would get awkward real fast, and Oz wouldn't like that. The old man had made it clear that Blake's furry little secret was something for the team to deal with on their own terms. Personally, Qrow thought it better to rip off the band-aid sooner than later, but what did he know? He wasn't the immortal reincarnating wizard.

"Uh, Qrow? Icy-Hot?" Yang sounded frustrated. "I know you two got off on the wrong foot, but can you at least try and get along? Before we attract—" Loud caws came from above, where a medium flock of small Nevemores was diving at them. "—Grimm."

The Nevermores' cries were almost immediately drowned out by gunfire. Bullets and Dust attacks ripped through the flock; everyone joined in on the barrage, except for Jaune Arc. Lacking any ranged attacks, the Taiyang lookalike just cowered under his shield. At least he seemed relatively benign, compared to those other two. The worst he could do was...get them killed with his incompetence—okay, still pretty bad. "Yeah, can we stop arguing about directions?" Jaune laid about with his sword, bisecting a couple Nevermores that had made it past the air defenses. "This is kind of annoying!" Annoying was about right. These Grimm were too small to pose real danger to them; it was more like swatting mosquitoes than anything. They cleared up the flock in short order, Yang blasting the last Nevermore apart with one punch.

Qrow took a generous gulp from his flask, to brace himself for what he was about to say. "Okay, Schnee. Sable." he amended. "I get it, you don't like me—honestly, you don't make a great impression yourself—but Huntsmen have to work with whoever they get. So, in the interest of not attracting every Grimm in this gods-forsaken place, let's...turn it down a notch." He considered offering a handshake, but ultimately couldn't bring himself to. "By no means does this make us friends."

Sable grunted. "Whatever. Wasn't counting on it."

"Cool. Good talk. And by the way, I was right about the directions." Qrow pointed out the street sign ahead of them. Half of it was broken off, but the name clearly started with 'CAB'. Needless to say, he didn't get an apology. He'd count it as a win that the kid had kept his damn mouth shut, though the resulting silence, as their shoes crunched down the empty streets, was palpably tense. It was the team's first real mission, wasn't it? This was his cue to give some sort of cheesy morale-boosting speech to the rookies. A shame that 'morale-boosting' was not an adjective people usually associated Qrow with ('drunk', 'depressing', and 'family-unfriendly' were the common ones). Hmm. What would Oz do? Qrow recalled the question the wizard had asked Team STRQ, when he escorted them on their first mission all those years ago. He knew Yang's answer to it already, and didn't really trust Blake to give an honest one, so..."Hey, Arc." Jaune looked up at his name. "Why do you want to be a Huntsman?"

"Eh?" Jaune blinked in surprise. "Well...I'm an Arc. I've got a family legacy to uphold." he began. "Growing up, I wasn't exactly the strongest...or toughest, or smartest...honestly, I totally sucked." He chuckled ruefully, exchanging knowing looks with his teammates. It was cute how he thought Oz didn't know all about his transcripts already. A country bumpkin showing up to initiation with no Aura was hardly the con of the century. "But...you know, when my sisters told me the stories about Crocea Mors and the heroes who'd wielded it...there was nothing else I wanted to be."

"Hm. Family business. Good thing you came from a line of Huntsmen, then." Qrow said. "If, hypothetically, your family was a bunch of murderous bandits who spent their days pillaging helpless little frontier villages, would want to uphold that legacy?"

A bird cawed angrily in the distance. The sound was unpleasantly familiar; he sighed and took another hit from the flask. "Uh...no?" Jaune stammered. "Well, maybe? If I grew up hearing how awesome it was to kill people and take their stuff...I mean, I really hope I wouldn't but nature versus nurture and all that...I don't know, I guess."

"Geez, Qrow, that's dark." Yang muttered. "And oddly specific."

Sable snorted. "Eh, probably just a hypothetical. There's no way that business model would work out. There aren't a lot of frontier villages to start with, and they tend to be pretty poor. The ones actually worth pillaging can afford to hire Huntsmen, so it'd be a risk. Plus after you sack a place once—"

"—there's no way they'd stick around just to get pillaged again, right." Yang finished. "Not to mention how the Grimm would move in."

Jaune nodded. "Yeah. It'd probably make more sense to keep some villages alive. Have them pay you protection money, like in those gangster movies! I mean, it'd be totally bad and wrong and stuff but if we're talking hypotheticals..."

"Hell, why bother with villages at all?" Yang wondered. "I mean, the kingdoms are where all the Lien's at. Rob some Dust shops, and hey presto!" She made a money-printing gesture. "No offense, Icy-Hot."

"Some taken, but whatever." Sable said. "It'd be even better to set up a shell company to launder the profits through. Gives you some legal cover. Hypothetically, of course."

"Man, Qrow, your hypothetical bandits are totally dumb." Yang quipped. The angry cawing returned, even louder. Qrow stifled a laugh in his sleeve. Oh, Yang didn't know the half of it. He had so many childhood memories of living out of tents, not having electricity, 'mechashift' weapons that were just knives taped to guns, and shitting in the woods unless they could raid a village to use the toilet. Even ignoring the moral aspects, he'd had reasons aplenty for leaving the Branwen Tribe behind.

Jaune chuckled weakly. "Heh, yeah. But I guess I see your point, Qrow. Just wanting to copy my ancestors...it's kind of a shallow reason, isn't it?"

Qrow put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, kid. You can't expect to have everything figured out at your age. Besides, people have gone to Beacon for worse reasons." Like, say, learning how to be a more effective murderous village-pillaging bandit. "Hell, I know I did."

"Really, what was your reason? To get free drinks in bars, or something?" Yang asked curiously.

"Or something, yeah." Qrow hastily turned to the team leader. "What about you? You could be up in Atlas right now, sitting on a pile of Lien..." He would've added a crack about cocaine and hookers, were he not trying to 'get along'. "...but you're here instead. Why? You got your own family legacy to look after?" Sable looked down, frowning. All was quiet in Mountain Glenn. Qrow found himself wondering what the boy might say. If he was like Winter, it was probably going to be something high-minded about family, duty and honor, that ultimately boiled down to 'getting away from daddy'.

"Well, you're not wrong." Sable finally said. "I could be back in Atlas, hiding under my bed. Acting like a name and a bunch of Lien made me untouchable, like Wh—like a coward." he spat. "I mean, Lien's just ink and plastic, right? And our name's just a word. Means snow, for gods' sake." Well, hot damn, that was more self-awareness than he'd expected from a spoiled rich brat. Qrow could imagine Ozpin saying something along those lines, albeit in a much calmer way. The circumstances of your birth are irrelevant, Qrow. The imaginary Ozpin smiled mysteriously and drank coffee, somehow at the same time. It it what you do with the gift of life that—

Jaune chuckled nervously. "Ah, it's okay, I think your name's pretty cool." Yang cracked up. "Um, no pun intended..."

"Jaune, shut up. I didn't interrupt your monologue." Sable hissed. "That stuff, it might impress the boot-lickers, but it doesn't make you strong. What am I supposed to do when the Grimm and the White Fang come knocking, throw money at them? Come on!" He drew his sword, staring at it almost reverently. Qrow had seen that expression before, on the face of another pale, dark-haired sword user. He felt a sudden chill in the pit of his stomach. "Remnant's got a lot of...well, bad stuff in it. And If you can't fight back, in the end you're nothing but prey. I refuse to be that. Not when I could be a hunter instead." He looked over to Qrow, smiling eerily. "Does that answer your question, Branwen?"

"Eh.." Holy shit, red flags everywhere. If this were one of those cartoons Ruby liked, he'd have put money on the boy turning evil by Season Two. "Tell me what you think of this phrase, will you? 'The weak die, the strong live.'"

Sable tilted his head. "That's...a harsh to way put it. Not wrong, though." That damn bird was cawing again. It sounded pleased this time. "That's why we're here, isn't it, so we can get strong. And not die! And make our enemies die instead! Because they'll be weak...relative to us, anyways."

"Dude, dude. Oh my gods." Yang was snickering into her hand. "Try not to cut yourself on that edge."

"Let's see you give a better reason!" Sable retorted. "We've all seen how you get in a fight, Yang! Don't act like you're some...some sort of holy Huntress saint with light shining out of your—"

"Nah, that's Ruby you're thinking of." Yang held up her hands, laughing. "Me, I'm here for the thrills, I'll admit that. Nothing wrong with being a bit of a party Huntress, though. Better than, you know, an aspiring supervillain."

"What's so bad about wanting to be strong, damn it? Look, if your village was getting attacked, would you rather have a strong Huntsman or a weak one show up?"

"To be fair, you...didn't really mention helping people." Jaune pointed out hesitantly. "More about, uh, killing our enemies...that's, I don't know, maybe a little creepy?"

"Because that's what Huntsmen do! We help people, by killing stuff before it can kill them!"

Qrow reached for his flask again. A shot would really help settle his stomach right now. It was times like these where he wondered why Beacon didn't have mandatory philosophy and ethics classes, or failing that, some basic sanity checks ('Are you here to learn how to kill people? Yes/No). At least there wasn't a Schnee Bandit Tribe for Sable to run off and join—wait, there was, they just called it a Dust Company. Before the liquid happiness could touch his lips, however, he heard Zwei barking. "Behind us!" Blake shouted in warning. Qrow had nearly forgotten she was there, so little had she contributed to the conversation. The street behind them looked empty, but he didn't doubt something was coming, what with her faunus senses. Plus his Semblance had gone suspiciously long without screwing them over.

"You sure? I don't hear anything." said Jaune. Then one Beowolf stepped out from an empty building. Two Beowolves. No red Beowolf or blue Beowolf, but a few Creeps and Ursas showed up in solidarity. Then about fifty more Beowolves. It was sort of impressive, actually, how they'd all fit in that one building. "Oh." Jaune whispered. "That's not good." More growls came from in front of them, where a second horde materialized for good measure. Ah. His Semblance was determined to make up for lost time, wasn't it? "Really not good."

"...and you, Miss Valkyrie? Why do you want to be a Huntress?" Peter muttered tiredly. So far, the answers he'd gotten had been as exciting as a piece of toast sandwiched between two other pieces of toast. Duty. Honor. Saving people. Typical wholesome stuff. And they said he was boring.

"Well, I agree with what Ren said." Nora began. "People need someone to keep them safe! Especially out on the frontier..." She chewed her lip. "But...I guess I wanna be a Huntress because it's fun, too. I mean, Grimm make such nice sounds when you smack them! Nevermores go splortch, and Beowolves are like, crunch-squish!" Nora swung Magnhild at thin air, making cartoonish violence noises.

Peter clapped slowly. "Bravo! Absolutely brilliant! Miss Valkyrie, that's the finest answer I've ever heard!" The other four looked absolutely stunned. "Come now, don't be so shocked! What better reason for doing something, than sheer joy? Do what you love, young ones, and love what you do! Do you think I'd teach Grimm Studies, if I didn't utterly relish cutting Grimm open and observing their innards?" Scratch that, now they looked stunned and a little afraid. Ugh, people were so irrational. It was a Huntsman's job to kill Grimm, so he never understood why they got so perturbed when he smiled and laughed while doing so. What was wrong with enjoying his work? He was spreading positive emotions, too! Much better than those depressing sorts who went around moping about the futility of violence and inevitability of death and the like.

"Hear that? I'm a genius!" Nora swelled with pride. "Thanks, Professor Port! You're becoming, like, my favorite teacher." The boisterous girl bowed deeply. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were boring! And slept in your class! And laughed when Ruby told that joke about—"

"About how you're a really cool person!" Ruby said hastily. "Not to mention kind, and uh...benevolent, and definitely not one to hold a grudge. It's, uh, funny because it's true, right?"

Peter responded with his most enthusiastic laugh, to show there were no hard feelings. For some reason, Ruby's face turned the color of milk. Bah. He decided to just keep talking to the only rational member of the team. "Now, on the subject of acoustically pleasing Grimm, I'd have to recommend the Apathy."

Nora's eyes shone. "Ooh, tell me more."

"Ugly little creatures." Peter stroked his mustache. "But oh, they scream so prettily. I first encountered them on a dark and snowy night, in the wilds of north Anima. It was the fifty-third year after the War. I remember the date well, for it was the same week my grandfather's cabbage won the blue ribbon at the Compost King Fair—"

"Professor Port?" Weiss interrupted. "I think we're at the subway station." Judging from the 'Subway' sign and the big hole in the ground, so they were. The full tale of the Apathy would have to wait for another time—shame, it was a good one. The way they'd reacted when his Semblance turned out to cancel the effect of their screams was quite amusing. Peter peered into the station entrance. The stairs had crumbled away at some point, leaving a long fall into blackness. "Quite right, Miss Schnee." he harrumphed. "Hm, that's quite a drop. Prepare your landing strategies, children. Or...perhaps we should build a ramp! Miss Valkyrie and I could demolish one of these buildings and—"

"Weiss, just make us some stairs." Ruby ordered. A neat line of white snowflake glyphs formed, spiraling down into the dark. Nora pouted. "Oh. That's boring."

"Have patience, my dear girl. Our time will come." Peter reassured his new favorite student. "Same to you." he whispered to his weapon. He could feel Blowhard's growing rage at being denied the chance to feed. "Sometimes waiting makes it all the sweeter."

Qrow's group retreated down a side street with the horde snapping at their heels. The two Grimm packs merged at the street entrance and flowed after them like a nightmarish river. "Damn it, why is these streets so wide?" Sable shouted. "We need a choke point!"

"How about up there?" Blake indicated a spot ahead, where a line of burnt-out cars mostly blocked the avenue. The surrounding buildings seemed particularly decrepit; slabs of concrete balanced precariously on crumbling support columns, the lower floors having long fallen away. Qrow could still make out the faint outline of a snowflake on one of them. Heh, what were the odds?

"It'll do!" They all ducked behind the defensive line. Qrow brought up the rear, cradling Zwei in his arms. Sable waved his sword over the barricade, sealing most of the gaps with Rock Dust, save for a small space in the middle. "Jaune, Yang, hold them at the gap! Blake, we're going up top!" The black-themed pair began climbing a staircase of white glyphs. Qrow watched them closely, half-expecting one of them to take an unlucky spill and break all their bones (there was a reason he'd quit teaching at Signal. At least that poor girl had regained use of all her limbs).

Yang started firing off shotgun blasts. The Grimm approached ever closer; Qrow could practically see the whites (well, reds) of their eyes. Jaune crouched behind Crocea Mors and looked back nervously. "Um, Qrow?" he asked. "Are you going to help, or...?"

Qrow shook his head. "You're here to learn by doing, not by eating popcorn. Don't worry. I'll step in if it looks like you're about to die." Time to play babysitter. Not for the first time, he wondered why Oz had insisted on setting up the mission like this. He could understand why the old man had called him back—his search for the false Maiden had, to be frank, turned up jack shit, and at least this was a lead...but seriously, couldn't he have done this on his own? A black bird in a dark tunnel was a hell of a lot stealthier than nine semi-trained children, two semi-responsible adults, and a dog. For as long as he'd known the man, sometimes Ozpin's mind was difficult to fathom.

Yang laughed. "Sit back and watch, old man." A black bird touched down atop the ruined SDC building, taking in the scene with an air of interest. Qrow checked to make sure the kids weren't looking, and flipped the bird, to the bird. He was sure Tai would've appreciated the gesture, and the pun. It (she) squawked indignantly. Yeah, suck on that. The first few Grimm funneled mindlessly into the gap, jostling to get at the two blondes. Yang uppercutted a Beowolf to death, while Jaune sliced a Creep in half. The Arc bashed a second Beowolf with his shield, sending it stumbling into Yang's reach, and Qrow's niece executed it with one blow. "Dragonknight, bitches!"

"I thought it was Dragonslayer!" Jaune shouted, now fending off an Ursa.

"What? No, that's dumb! Why would I want to get slayed?" The only explanation Qrow could think of was that Oz wanted to get these kids some experience, like how Team STRQ had always drawn suspiciously important missions back in the day (most of which ended with Summer spamming her eye-beams). Conflicted as he was about Ruby and Yang following in his footsteps, it was easy to see what Oz saw in this bunch. Besides genetics, they had ties to prominent families in Mistral, Atlas, and Menagerie, not to mention a shit-ton of Lien (SDC blood money, but hey, Lien was Lien).

A bright orange streak sailed over his head and across the street. It slammed into one of the pillars that held up the SDC building, right in front of the barricade. With a faint boom and a small fireball, the worn pillar broke in half. Qrow looked up to see Blake re-aiming the gun end of her weapon. A red snowflake appeared in front of the muzzle, and Blake fired again, bullets now infused with explosive Fire Dust. A second pillar shattered...oh, that was the plan. Oh boy.

A third pillar went. The building creaked ominously. "GET BACK!" Yang and Jaune abandoned their position, Yang firing off rounds to cover their retreat. The fourth pillar went. The upper levels of the building swayed, leaned, and crashed into the building across from it; both toppled into the street with a deafening roar. The air filled with the death screams of dozens of Grimm, and the surprised shriek of a single bird. Idiot. A plume of concrete dust rose high into the sky. Blake and Sable ran back down the glyph staircase to help their teammates mop up any survivors.

"Enjoying the show?" Yang grinned at her uncle, flashing double peace signs. She and her teammates stood victorious in front of the smoking ruins of a city block. A disgruntled-looking raven perched on a piece of rubble, trying to clean the dust from its feathers. Well, on second thought, maybe Ozpin had more practical reasons for sending Team SJBY to an abandoned city.

"Guys, over there." Blake pointed to one side. "I think that's a way down!" Where the now-destroyed SDC building had once stood was a gaping black pit. At the bottom was a wide tunnel lined with boxy shapes, a mirror image of the street they stood on. So that was Mountain Glenn's underground city. It looked just as shitty as the one on the surface (maybe a bit less so, after the team's recent renovations).

Yang whistled. "Damn. That's lucky."

Suspiciously so, yes. Were there razor-sharp spikes at the bottom? An army of White Fang? White Fang wielding razor-sharp spikes? But for all Qrow squinted into the gloom, he saw nothing but an empty cavern. Perhaps he was being too paranoid...eh, who was he kidding, something stupid was definitely going to happen down there; it always did. They'd just have to deal with it. "We're going in, kids. Remember—goggles on, voices down."

Four humans, a secret faunus, and a dog climbed down into the dark. The dusty bird watched them go. Once the last of them was out of sight, it transformed into an equally dusty woman. The mysterious figure removed the white mask from her face, and proceeded to double over, coughing violently. "Ack! Pfft!" She spat out a mouthful of powdered concrete. Her hands brushed over her red-black dress and dark hair, sending up miniature dust clouds. "Ugh! Stupid brat—achoo!" She instinctively sneezed into her arm, then looked in dismay at the giant glob of snot on her sleeve. In the ruins of Mountain Glenn, there was not a tissue to be seen. "Damn it." With an aggrieved sigh, Raven Branwen turned back to a bird and flew down the hole after her kin.

Well, what is there to say about this one? Sable continues to be blatantly unheroic (but hopefully in a fun way), Branwen family reunion hype, Port gets a backstory—which absolutely no one asked for, but you're getting it anyways. I was trying to come with a Semblance for him, thought 'hey, what if being boring was literally his Semblance?', and then realized how bad that could mess him up. I'm now slightly afraid of what I've turned him into. It's like a saner version of Tyrian.