Hello there everyone! We're back!

Sorry about the long delay, everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong! Oh joy! But thankfully I'm now in a place where I can write again! So yay!

So, thank you all for your patience! Again, I'm so sorry about the delay, but life gets in the way. Without further do...

XLVI

Brand New Day: Part 1

All was unmoving inside the darkened hardware store. What was just another ruined building amongst thousands, touched by the ravenous Grimm and their surprise invasion upon the good kingdom of Vale, the store named 'Hooligan's' possessed one unique trait withheld from the rest. Amongst the emptied racks and toppled shelves, beyond the front of windows sprayed across soaked wooden flooring, where the looters of yesterday had all gone, picked apart the store's innards and fled into the dire night. The corroding building left to burden the weight of Atlesian warship debris. Drops of outside rain seeping through the noticeable hole in the ceiling were accompanied by haunting echo of a wounded man's snore.

Deep within the store, the familiar Thrush had taken up residence, laying his bandaged body on a makeshift cot comprised of boxes and old wash cloth rags he'd scrounged up. Sleep did not come easy to Russel, it hardly came to anyone. By far, the world was a master with its sick sense of humor, it was autumn and yet rain poured on through the night and into the early day, bashing against the roof that covered the Thrush's head. But, he'd managed, either due to exhaustion or through persistence, he'd finally found it in himself to slide into the comforting cold slumber for a much needed rest.

However, the moment he was gone, while lost in a soup of dreams, an invading presence made itself known. The sounds of nearby jet engines wrestled for dominance with the beating rain, eventually overpowering it and causing Russel to open his eyes with anger. A tired sigh bounced off the walls as he glared up at the ceiling. It would have been nice to escape to the land of dreams, to find peace and forget, forget that it had only been three days since the fall of Vale.

Russel's thoughts quietly raced as he properly regained consciousness, shrugging off the remnants of his desire to slumber. He sat up in his cot, placing his booted feet to the floor and hanging his head low, starring at his shoddily bandaged hands. Sleep was not the only thing that he missed, having a full set of digits on his left hand would have been nice. But he'd thrown any chance of that away in order to secure his victory against Mercury, if he could even call that a victory.

That earned bitter scowl from the Thrush. Vale was sacked, everyone he knew was either dead or displaced, and here he was, wallowing in his own self-loathing. The world as Russel knew it was gone, all that remained was the remnants of the Kingdom's people and their fractured hopes as well as their loss of innocence. For so long the people of Vale been sheltered, behind both their borders and courageous Huntsmen, never before had the threat of Grimm felt so real and traumatic. No doubt the governing bodies of Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo were scrambling to assess their own security, committing all their resources to ensuring the very same never happens to their own kingdoms.

Waking to the sound of the jet engine was a reminder of that fact. It had been days since the world had gone dark and the other kingdoms had witnessed Vale succumb. There should have been warships arriving the next morning, relief boats to rescue their trapped touring citizens and airships dropping crates of supplies to feed the starving people below. But no such aid arrived.

The people of Vale and the visiting folk from the other three kingdoms had been trapped within the hollow safe zone. Any far reaching airships had gone down during the initial attack along with the crews that manned them. All contact with the outside world was relayed through the use of barrages ferrying people from the shore to nearby island of Peach. As Russel noted some few days ago, the majority of surviving veteran Huntsmen hitched a ride of the first ride out, taking with them a number of injured, including half of Team RWBY. Russel hadn't seen them since.

Hearing that jet flying overhead should've made Russel leap out of his cot with that stupid grin of his. Instead, he was there frowning in his days old blood soaked clothing. Call him a cynical bastard, but it was difficult to get one's hopes up at the sound of only 'one' ship. If anyone was truly there to aid the people of Vale, there'd be a whole fleet booming overhead.

Russel's eyes wandered to a couple of haphazardly staked boxes in the corner. There he could make out the glint of the golden headdress hidden behind, a reminder of all the souls that couldn't be there today with him and the others wallowing in the rubble of their home. He'd be a damn liar if said he never gave way to half-formed assumptions and shoddy presumptions. But deep down in Russel's heart, he knew for a fact every poor soul who perished that day would be just as disappointed as he was now.

Regardless of his feelings, Russel knew this was worth getting up for. The first arrival since the fall, many were bound to greet it and there would be questions for everyone.

So then he stood, wincing slightly, feeling sore all over. Anyone with medical training were in short supply these days, just as were their tools. The lines outside the makeshift clinic at the heart of the safe zone were the stuff of nightmares, reaching from one corner of the zone to the next in some odd spiral.

He reached out to the stack of boxes, pulling a small hammer off the top with his left hand, quietly pocketing it. He then made his way out of his dwelling, closing the door behind him and locking it with the manager's key he'd 'acquired' from some abattoir-bloke the night prior. He shot a glance over to the counter where once the register rested and now the bloodied hood the bloke had worn now resting idle. So he sauntered his way out the building, passing over the floor of glass and exiting the store, unsure of what the day planned to throw at him.

And so Russel set out, into the rain, heading northward, up to their makeshift airstrip. It was in those brief moments where he'd cursed himself, as the rain crashed against his body, he should have brought with him a cardboard box, something to keep the rain off of him. One wary glance to his worn and bloodied clothing and the Thrush realized the pounding droplets were the best damn shower he'd had in months. The thought of his earned a brief if somewhat resentful smile. You never really did know how well you had it until everything you'd come to know was forcibly ripped from your hands. Attending Beacon was a real step up for Russel, actual beds, three square meals a day, and working plumbing. It sure was nice while it lasted.

Seeking to get out of the rain as quick as possible, Russel opted to take a shortcut, taking a left turn past the Chantry down the newly christened 'Melting Pot'. It was a term of resentment, tossed around as those visiting Vale for the festival were essentially marooned on the eastern side of the continent. Vacuans were living in shanties, fallen walls propped up on sticks and resigned to the squatting in collapsed structures. Mistralians on the other hand took up closer to the side closest to the ocean, probably because it reminded them of home. Either way, it didn't stop them from taking up refuge in what was once a supermarket. And then there were the Atlesians, the outcasts of the lot, keeping themselves positioned by the farthest end of the Melting Pot, which just so happened to be conspicuously closest to the airstrip.

And then there the people of Vale, Russel's people. Those who lived in the city were evicted from their homes and now they all resided in between the outermost fringes of their kingdom by the shore and nearby forests, but even then, there still wasn't enough room, so now a large portion the populace were relocated here to the Melting Pot. It wasn't a totally new experience for Russel, growing up the way he did, living beside a forest was an all too familiar status quo. But where he was content to live in leaky rundown and sacked buildings, he could tell it was a nightmare for the citizens of Vale and living hell for their 'guests'.

Though Russel had to credit where credit was due, he was honestly surprised that another great war hadn't kicked off the moment warships started shooting up buildings. But since stepping within the unmarked borders of the Melting Pot, the Thrush could feel the tension in the air, heck, it would have made a great roof to keep out the rain. Up ahead, Russel could see a number of Valean citizens, backs to a wall glaring across the road to an equal number of Vacuans.

Standing orders after the Great War was that the four kingdoms were to get along, play nice. But just because you stopped killing each other for king and country doesn't mean you stopped hating the other guys. The truth was, The Melting Pot was a powder keg just ready to go off. And they all knew it.

Russel minded his step, not making eye contact with anyone. But even though he controlled his actions and tread lightly through the Melting Pot, he knew it didn't really matter what he did, it was everyone else that he had to worry about. A lot of people got killed by The White Fang, and the actions of the few became synonymous to the many. The faunus population was scattered throughout, and that muddied everything substantially. The mourning period was almost up and Russel could feel it. Soon, people would start pointing fingers at the other, blaming them for the deaths and destruction. And they'll immediately turn their sights to the faunus.

"Whoa, hey!" A voice erupted off to the side. Russel glanced out of the corner of his eye, and to no surprise, he found a group of battered men and women surrounding some monkey faunus. Russel recognized the monkey boy from his blond scraggly hair and decision to not wear a shirt.

Sun Wukong backed away from the forming mob, hands outstretched defensively. Though his weapons Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang were within reach, where they rested in his holsters, Sun recognized that even the act of self-defense could be the starting incident to the horrific purge of faunus from Vale. "Can't we talk about this?"

Russel halted his course, standing idle and watched. Even with the people's backs to him, he could tell they wouldn't listen to a faunus, there was just too much blood. It appeared that if Sun valued his life, then he'd take off running. But still, the SSSN leader remained, pleading with the people to calm themselves to think for a moment.

"I understand how you feel, what the White Fang did was unforgivable" Sun spoke, appealing to the mob's humanity. "But I'm not White Fang, I'm just a faunus, not all of us are complete assholes like they are."

But Sun's words fell on deaf ears and the mob continued to close in on the young man. Russel remained where he stood, watching events unfold. And he wasn't alone, out of the corner of his eye, Russel could see a number of faunus gathering on the opposite end of the street. A few of them wore academy uniforms and appeared to be working up the nerve to step in, not until the first punch was thrown, they knew better to jump the gun. And they weren't alone, some Vacuans were watching on, some with great interest, and a slim few with dread.

Returning his attention to Sun and the mob, Russel could have sworn this would be it. A riot was bound to break out and what remained of the kingdom of Vale would be consumed by their own actions.

"Hold on, a moment of your time, please!" Another voice, one that Russel knew all too well, called out, catching the mob's attention. They turned and saw one Lance Grimsby emerging from one nearby alley. Instantly, the sight of a human gave the mob pause, long enough for Lance to speak on. "My fellow humans, this is a dire time that we find ourselves. But lashing out at the first faunus we see is not the answer!"

A stunned mob looked on, somewhat perplexed that anyone, let alone someone human such as they, would come to a faunus' aid. Seizing the chance Lance delved into soothing tones, calling for unity. "If you want someone to blame, someone to vent your anger and rage, seek not your fellow man or faunus. The White Fang and The Grimm are our enemy. More than ever, we need to stand together."

There was a brief murmur amongst the mob, but seemingly any anger they held had dissipated, replaced by the mournful pit they felt in their guts. These men and women, they were fathers, mothers, shopkeeps and teachers. One look at them now, with all their hate vacant from their eyes, Russel could see the loss, the fear, the regret. These were the people of Vale. The mob turned around and dispersed, heading off on their merry way to whichever hole would shelter them from the rain. With the threat of public lynching past, Sun thanked Lance for his timely intervention. Lance uttered some corny yet hopeful message Russel could only see the likes of Superman saying. And then Sun turned to leave, mentioning something about running late to meet with a cat friend of his.

Russel should have been smiling, just like all the other bleeding hearts who'd watched on in silence. This was proof that they could rebuild, that they could come back from the edge of destruction and stand tall, shoulder to shoulder against Cinder's forces and the White Fang's terrorism. If only it had been someone else, then Russel could have believed it.

Had it been anyone other than Lance who'd intervened, who'd spoken on the platform of unity and appealed to the good old community spirit of his fellow man, then Russel would have breathe a sigh of relief and carried on his way not giving a damn. But that hadn't been the case. In the face of a crumbling kingdom, there were few he hated more than Lance Grimsby.

It wasn't much of a surprise to find Lance running to a faunus' aid, seeing as their first actual meeting was the Team WILL member's confronting him over CRDL's treatment of Velvet. But his sympathy to the Faunus plight ad been called into question, once Russel learned of the man's more dubious motivations surrounding Velvet. Not to mention all of the other dubious acts regarding his intentions with sneaking a keg on campus for an after party and when Russel had stumbled on him spiking some Vacuan girl's drink.

To say the least, Lance Grimsby was not a man Russel could trust at face value.

"You!" Some feminine voice shouted from the Vacuan side of the crowd. Russel glanced to his left and found one Gwen Darcy stepped into the pouring rain, a pissed off look on her face, and an outstretched hand pointing at Lance in an accusing manner. "You're a monster! You're a complete bastard!" She shouted as she trudged through the mud in her dancing shoes until she was face to face with the man.

As Russel saw it, Lance must've been too high off congratulating himself over a job well done and was caught way off guard by the sudden appearance of one of his former would be victims. His face contorted, eyes widening slightly as Gwen just started screaming at him, prodding his chest by jamming her finger against it.

It took the Team WILL boy a second to regain his motor functions. He turned and shot a pleading look to the crowd, to those citizens of Vale standing by the wayside. "Get this crazy Vacuan chick off me!" He shouted, quickly changing the atmosphere of the situation. No longer was it a one on one quarrel, now it was a bout between kingdoms.

Whatever nationalistic pride Russel felt swell inside he knew better than to act on it, he would not step in to save Lance from righteous retribution. But that didn't stop the others. A number stepped forward, glaring at Gwen and moved in between them, shoving her back and onto the muddy pavement. And Russel cursed under his breath as the Vacuans joined the fray.

Russel kept his stare level, shooting it past the men and women and Beacon students who'd risen to Lance's defense and began to burn his sight against the side of the Grimsby boy's head. As if feeling Russel's stare, Lance answered, turning to meet his gaze. A haunted look crossed Lance's features, this was an all too familiar. Then Russel reached into his pants pocket and drew the hammer, holding against his side and glared. Lance got the message, Gwen's actions as well as Russel's, a reminder. So Lance turned and ran, leaving before the first punch could be thrown.

But that first punch never came. "Settle down!" Nebula shouted, pushing her way through the Vacauns side of the street. She met those Valeans and rose her hands defensively. "Let's not fight today, huh?" She gestured to the wrecked buildings on both sides of the street. "It'd be in poor taste, wouldn't you think?"

"Then keep your bitch on a leash." A man sneered, glaring past Nebula to Gwen. "Fucking foreigners."

Nebula bit her lip, holding back the urge to fight with the man and defend her friend. But for the sake of some semblance of peace, held to smack the man in face for insulting Gwen. And without a word she turned her back along with the rest of those Vacuans who'd stepped up to Gwen's defense.

Russel stood and watched, as Nebula threw an arm around Gwen in an effort to console her. The NDGO dancer was shaking, on the verge of tears with her hands balled up in fists. She cursed and cried out, hating the world and the people in it. She just wanted justice but it seemed impossible.

The presence of Russel's gaze did not go unnoticed and the Thrush caught Nebula's eye. She patted Gwen on the back before leaving her in the capable hands of Octavia. The fiery redhead nodded knowingly and ushered her partner out of the rain and into their makeshift dwelling, a laundry mat which they shared with a number of Shade Academy students.

"Russel?" Nebula called out to the Thrush. Russel followed her gaze as he met her halfway through. No doubt she noted his weary face and the days old blood stained rags he still wore. "You look like hell."

"You're one to talk." He managed a slight smirk as he eyed the young woman standing before him, noting her tired eyes and sluggish posture, not to mention the slight wobble of the knees. "Quite the heated exchange back there, huh?"

"This has been a nightmare." She let out an exhausted sigh. Nebula raised her fully gloved hand and squeezed the bridge of her nose. "I don't know how long we can keep going like this. There's too much fighting, eventually something will give and we'll just finish what the Grimm started."

Russel glanced to the spot where the mob had cornered Sun just moments ago. "Things do seem pretty bleak." He muttered, if reluctantly. "How're you're people holding up?"

"What food we have won't last a week. And that's with it rationed all the hell up." Nebula frowned as she brushed a soaked mess of her hair off of her face. "Not to mention, aside from that little display of the daily routine here in the Melting Pot, we've got our own squabbles." She gave a nod over her shoulder back to the laundry mat.

Russel peaked past Nebula, through the glass windows of the laundry mat to where the leader of Team PSYK, Panini Delso appeared to be in the middle of a shouting match with the leader of Team BRNZ, Brawnz Ni. Russel had to strain his ears to make out what they were arguing over. From what he gleamed, it was about leadership. It took Russel a second to fully grasp the severity of the Shade Student's predicament. There weren't any teachers amongst them, just students. That didn't bode well about any visiting faculty's fate and it most certainly left a power vacuum amongst the Shade students, one that would need to be filled should their stay prove to be more permanent. And given the lack of notice from any of the other three kingdoms, that seemed to be just the case.

"But things might be looking up." She said, a slight smile forming across her features. Nebula gave a nod further down the way. "All the Atlesians practically stormed out their shanties at the sight. Can you believe it? A SDC Jet?"

"So it is only one?" Russel asked, doing his best not to sound disappointment. But still, his tone betrayed him and he could tell in the dent his words made in Nebula's smile.

"Yeah, only one." Nebula confirmed, crossing her arms over her chest.

They stood there in silence for a brief moment, heads hanging low, just feeling the weight of their reality come crashing down around them. "I'd better see what this about then." Russel muttered as he turned on his heel, setting off to resume his journey to the makeshift landing strip. "Take care of yourself, Nebula." He waved good-bye.

"You too, Russel." She nodded before heading to her dwellings and out of the rain.

It was a bit of a walk after that, and for the most part, the rain drops were Russel's only company. But as he drew closer to his destination, Russel soon found himself amongst the chants of rowdy protest. There was an anger in the air, not too much unlike how it was with the mob and Sun, but there was a sinking feeling of desperation, as if someone held out some piece of hope out on a string and dangled it out in front of the starving masses.

Russel rounded another corner, now he was in the free and open spaces of what was once the coastline beaches, where the tallest nearby building happened to be an SDC logistics building just the type of place for Ironwood and his soldiers had set up shop. And adjacent to that a large flat strip of pavement where one of the latest attempt to update the local transit system was to be built, but now was an airstrip. There were no fences to keep the people out, and yet, as Russel arrived, it appeared to be.

Large masses of Atlesians, consisting of the students from Atlas Academy and the average tourist, seemed to be crowding around the perimeter, fists raised high and demanding to be taken home.

Seeking a better perspective of situation, Russel went around the crowd for elevated position atop some boulder left for décor on the nearby beach. Standing tall, he took in the sight as a whole and frowned. There was no fence, instead, it was a human wall. Atlesian Soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder in full armor, there arms locked together like chain keeping the people from storming that shiny new SDC jet resting out on the strip.

"Keep them back!" A tall, pale, white haired man in an equally white suit barked as he emerged from the nearby SDC building. It didn't take Russel long to figure the man to be one Jacques Schnee, President of the Schnee Dust Corporation.

Russel just watched as the man just walked through alongside the Atlesian masses, a scowl of contempt gracing features as servants ran beside him, holding umbrellas over him.

Surmise to say there were a number of reasons why someone like Jacques Schnee could have come to Vale, such as to see firsthand the devestation to the once great kingdom, to see how his investment into Vale Branch of the SDC. But, Russel knew better, he was for one reason only. And she happened to be running out after her father.

Weiss pressed forward in the company of two manservants, who, like her father, provided her cover from the pouring rain. The Heiress spared a wary glance to the side, off to the men and women who stood shouting, arms stretched out past the battle worn soldiers. She found herself unable to look away, meeting their desperate stares as she recognized the majority of their number wearing the familiar Atlas Academy uniform.

"Please, take us with you!" A young man wearing a scuffed Atlas Academy uniform cried out, his hand reaching out past the barricade of soldiers to the Schnee's.

"Hold them back! Hold them back!" The commanding officer shouted as he and his men formed a wall, refusing to let a single soul past.

"We want to go home!" Another voice, one belonging to a faunus girl, whose once bright clothing was now stained with grime and blood, shouted. "Please! We don't want to be here anymore!" Neon Katt cried. "We just want to go home!"

"Schnee! Hey, Schnee!" Weiss couldn't help but glance to the side, hearing the familiar voice of one Flynt Coal. The trumpeter stood at the front of the masses, a look of disdain firmly planted onto his features. "You ain't nothing! You hear me?! You ain't nothing!"

There was no denying the injustice of the situation, so all Weiss could do was turn away, hoping the umbrellas the manservants held over her would shield her from the crowd's betrayed stares and angered chants as it did the rain.

"Hurry it up!" Jacques shouted over his shoulder to Weiss, he was already rushing up the gangway. Weiss did as she was told and doubled her speed and off into the awaiting jet she went. And just as she did, the doors shut behind her and the ship began to take off.

A sea of devastation was left in the Schnee's wake as the sped off no doubt back to Atlas. There were sobs, cries of protest, and angered wails.

"You wanna hear a joke?" A voice spoke off to the left of Russel.

Russel didn't even need to look to know who it was, he just kept his stare level and frown to himself.

"Some guy flew his shiny new jet over the shanty towns of Vale. All so he could bitch to Ironwood about setbacks in productivity and then run off with his daughter, leaving his fellow countrymen behind to die."

"So what's the punchline?" Russel casually asked as the Atlesians began to head back to their downtrodden dwellings over in the Melting Pot.

"Turns out its all fucking real." The speaker cursed, not at all attempting to hide the contempt in his voice.

"Ttch." Russel shook his head. "Not a good joke."

"Really? That would explain why I'm not laughing." The speaker sighed.

Russel sighed and turned to the speaker. "What do you want, Cardin?"

There, standing to his left, wearing full Atlesian soldier armor, stood Cardin, arms crossed over his chest, a saddened expression on his face. "Just wanted to let you know, the offer still stands."

"I'm no fuckin' shill for the Schnees. And I sure as shit ain't goin' to work for the Military that bombed my damn Kingdom." Russel sent a glare Cardin's way, fixating it on the Atlesian insignia carved into the mass produced armor's chest plate.

A reluctant sigh escaped Cardin's lips as he refused to meet Russel's judgmental stare. "This is the only way we can maintain peace," He said, shaking his head. "the only way we can rebuild, and you know that."

"Not like this, Cardin." Russel shook his head, stepping down from the rock and heading his way back in the direction from where he'd come. "Not like this."

And there you have it! The first installment in the Post-Volume 3 era of The Darkling Thrush!

Russel's down and out, everyone's living atop each other in a metaphorical powder keg and Vale may or may not have been unofficially annexed by Atlas! Yay!

Following the Fall of Vale, I thought it'd be interesting to examine what the aftermath would exactly be like. Communication across the world has been severed, the other kingdoms are shoring up their own borders in an effort to prevent their own kingdoms from falling, so that would leave everyone stranded in Vale. And, I think that's an interesting situation which I hope thanks to prior world building proves to be an interesting enough setting for the rest of the arc.

I believe I mentioned a while ago that I'd be revisiting Lance's character. Yeah, brace yourselves, we're going to be doing that.

And, for fun, for those who'd like to squint this arcs events with say the moment Ruby awakens in Peach, chronologically this arc happens a week before that, so, not in the 6 month Volume 4 time skip just yet.

The next chapter will be out by the end of this week. The Darkling Thrush is back on track baby! WOOOOO!