Heya everyone, welcome back to the next chapter of The Darkling Thrush! Wooo!

Before we get started, as always, I'd like to thank everyone who left a review on the last chapter!

Vostok2142, Drake D Zero, Baoh joestar, AgentDraakis, Nordlending, ShadedAzure, Bagration and noone297! Thank You all for words and support, I'm glad to be back and I don't intend on going anywhere.

For the most part I hope this chapter answers a few questions, as well as makes you ask twice as more. Well then, on with the show?

XLVII

Brand New Day: Part 2

Dove wasn't a big fan of the cold gloom that came with the rain. Give him a nice blue cloudless sky with maybe a nice calm breeze, and that'd be fine by him. As a kid he'd always enjoyed running outside and playing with friends, but whenever those gloomy clouds arrived, so did the rain and Dove was forced to back in side. And when it was cold he was forced to wear one of those wool jackets, the kind that had the tags to high up so they'd always scratch against the back of your neck. And now, zipping past toppled buildings high above the concrete and shattered streets, Dove found another reason to hate the rain.

Droplets crashed against Dove's face as he sped through the wounded city. The water smeared his armor and drenched his clothing, weighing him down and forcing him to push himself in order to keep his altitude, lest he plummet and find himself snatched up by one of the Grimm that stalked the floor below.

Through squinting eyes Dove measured his course, calculating the weight he'd need to shift in order to make a wide turn around a burnt steel bar protruding outside Beacon Tower. And with a heavy heart, he did his best to pay no mind to the ruined state of the academy he'd called home.

A shy glance upward and Dove could see the Dragon frozen in place, peering out of Ozpin's office and overlooking the once mesmerizing sight of the city of Vale. There was a part of Dove that nagged him to fly upward, take a sharp breath and ram his blade into the Dragon's head. The Grimm that surrounded it, that coddled it, wouldn't be able to stop him, not if he was quick enough. But there too many unknowns that he recognized, such as if his actions had the adverse effect of freeing the Grimm from its frozen state.

Besides, Dove wasn't here to take a shot at the Dragon, no matter how much he wished to. He was here, back in Beacon, on a mission of great importance. To find his partner.

He zipped across campus, drawing the eye of bipedal Grimm that walked the grounds below. But Dove didn't care, he'd be long gone before they could catch up with him. As Dove's destination came into view, the first year student's dormitory, he found himself in the predicament of questioning exactly how he was to enter the building. He set his sights on the roof, hoping to use the door access.

Flying was still a fresh concept to the CRDL boy, but he handled himself as if he'd been flying his whole life. He could spin midair, pull out of a dive at neck breaking speeds and all sorts of other acrobatics. However, there was still the matter of landing that Dove had trouble with. So when Dove arrived at the rooftop, he hit the ground and tumbled forward until he slammed into the door.

Dove groaned as he lay upside-down against the door access. With a grunt, the CRDL boy picked himself up and dusted himself off. He then reached out for the door, pulling it open and making his descent below.

Arriving on the top floor, Dove made sure to check his surroundings. He could hear the muffled roars and inhuman wails of Grimm within the building. From what he could tell, they were somewhere else within the dormitory, but still he remained cautious, there could be a Beowulf hiding in a closet for all he knew. So Dove began to creep through the hallway, his sword drawn and his index finger resting on the underslung pistol trigger.

Slow and steady he went, checking his corners, peering into open doors left in the wake of the evacuation. Dove peered into one such room, finding it perfectly intact. Almost as if those living in the dorm room were out the moment the attack hit. Upon further inspection, Dove recognized a familiar yellow blouse with an emblem akin to a burning flower printed on it. It was then Dove realized that this room belonged to Team RWBY.

Dove thought about Yang, how she'd been put under house arrest for wounding Mercury in the tournament. As it turned out, by some power beyond Dove's understanding, Mercury had faked the entire incident which turned out to be the first step in destroying Vale. A sigh escaped Dove's lips. If only they'd truly been paying attention during the fight, or if more people believed Yang, maybe they wouldn't be in the mess they were now.

He sighed once more before continuing on his way down the hall before coming to a stop. He turned to his right and drew a dorm key, using it to open the door in front of him. When Dove had set off this morning, he didn't know what he'd be expecting to find. Maybe he'd find Sky's corpse, as time passed, the likelihood of that happening seemed to increase. Or perhaps he'd find some sort of message left behind for him to find, something to give Dove the hope that his friend was still alive.

Dove opened the door and stepped into the CRDL dormitory, finding the place messy as ever. And yet, something was off. He peered to Sky's corner of the room, finding that his teammate's bed was covered in clothes. Dove walked up to the bed and looked it over before turning his sights on the nearby dresser. He reached out and pulled it open, finding it empty.

A feint smile creeped its way across Dove's face. It wasn't much to say if Sky was alive or dead, but it was something. Sky had come back to the dorm. He come for clothing, or for something he'd left in the dresser and run off. Whatever the case, Dove knew now with certainty that Sky had come to retrieve means of survival, which meant he'd intended to live past the night. But where Sky was now was anybody's guess. One thing for sure though, now Dove had proof, he had hope that somewhere out there in the land of Vale, Sky was alive.

With his immediate business concluded, Dove turned to head back down the hall for the flight back to the safe zone. But mid-step, Dove froze. He shook his head and mentally slapped himself. Now was a golden opportunity to retrieve some personal items of his and of others. So Dove turned back around and began to rummage through his belongings, grabbing the secret stash of candy he had buried under his bed. Dove grabbed some clothes and spare gear lying around, rummaged through Cardin's things, finding batteries and a case of magma dust crystals. And finally, Dove emptied out the contents of Russel's nightstand, deciding to take it all with him. He found Russel's duffel bag and tossed what he could into it before kicking open the window and flying off into the gloomy, cold and rainy sky.

There was something off about Atlesian combat armor, as if it were purposely designed to chafe. Cardin had tried loosening the straps that bound the plates together a myriad of times since first donning the stainless steel white and grey mesh, but his efforts proved fruitless as his new set of gear constricted his upper torso.

It was the following morning of the attack when Ironwood had sought him out, come to Cardin battered and bruised and asked the Huntsman in training for his help. Those who knew Cardin, those who believed they knew him anyway, would have thought the notion of the Winchester answering to some higher authority other than his own quite the comical joke. How could the man who refused to do his own history assignments ever rise to the occasion?

But then again, those who thought such didn't really know Cardin. All they knew were the stories whispered across the halls, that he was nothing more than an unapologetic bigot, nothing beyond a cowardly bully, nor greater than a remorseless thug. But that wasn't him, that wasn't Cardin Winchester.

Cardin's eyes drifted to the corner of the tiny room he now called home, to where what remained of his old family armor lay. His eyes fell upon the image of the Phoenix that shown proudly on the breast plate, even now it proudly flared with a golden shine despite the cracks and battle scars. The Winchester Family crest, cemented into the history books by a lineage of soldiers, architects and generals who'd give every last drop of blood in their body to save their fellow man.

Would an unapologetic bigot ask for forgiveness? Would a cowardly bully charge into the unknown, willing to give his life in service of people he never knew? Would a remorseless thug weep over the souls he could not save? Cardin was many things, son, huntsman, friend, but most of all, he was a Winchester and he always rose to the occasion to keep the world from crashing down. So when Ironwood came asking for volunteers, to help keep the kingdom of Vale from crumbling to pieces, he was the first one in line.

And that brought Cardin to here and now, standing in his cramped makeshift quarters that he shared with five other people, five other Beacon students who'd jumped at the chance to serve their kingdom, even in less than ideal circumstances beneath another flag as he made sure to double check his gear. When he was first presented with the armor, Ironwood himself told him the importance of presentation, to keep the outfit clean and the plates straight, that the armor was a symbol of order in this chaotic world.

But Cardin didn't buy that last bit, deciding that Atlesians just had a thing for tight compact outfits. After another minute, Cardin surrendered, promising that he'd settle the matter the next moment he had free. Now, however, Cardin had to go, lest he run late for his meeting. As he was informed some time earlier when he was asked by the General to attend, the current leaders of Vale and the chief military officers were assembling for a long overdue discussion, one that Cardin was certain would prove to be both lengthy and heated with a variety of shouting matches and threats of war.

Quickly, but without obvious exertion, Cardin crossed the small distance between himself and the door, then head down the hall of the SDC Logistics building, the Atlesian Military's temporary command post.

Down the hall he went, up a flight of stairs. Cardin arrived at his destination, the designated war room and was accosted by a pair of genuine Atlesian soldiers. It must've been quite the shock when Ironwood announced to his stranded troops that they'd be cultivating a militia from Vale's inhabitants. Even more shocking must've been the sight of a Valean wearing the uniform.

After regaining some sense of composure, one soldier held out a hand to stop Cardin in his tracks. "Security check." He muttered as he moved to pat Cardin down. The Winchester obliged, recognizing the need for caution, recalling how easily the Atlesian military had been outsmarted by a man in a bolo hat. "You're clean. Go on right ahead."

Cardin nodded and did just that, pushing open the door and stepping into what was once upon a time a conference room. To say room was dim was an understatement, the lights above, running off of backup power generators, flared weakly, flickering every other second.

And not much to his surprise, the so called 'deliberation' had kicked off early. On one side of a long desk, arched forward in a slouching position, fists planted into the hard wood and spit dripping down his flapping jowls, stood an elderly fellow in his late sixties, dressed in a torn suit stood. His name was Dolm Mayflower, the last living member of Vale's governing council.

To Dolm's right stood Glynda Goodwitch, arms crossed over her chest and an even crosser look on her face. And to Dolm's left stood a trench coat clad figure, wearing a dress shirt, scuffed black tie and black pants. Cardin didn't recognize the man, but from what he gathered from whispers amongst VDP officers he'd had the pleasure of working with over the last four days, he presumed the man to be Heyman Burns, the senior ranking member of the Val Police Department. The trio of Dolm, Goodwitch and Burns were all that remained of Vale's government, if you could call it that anymore.

On the other side of the desk sat General Ironwood, dressed in a freshly pressed white suit. To Ironwood's right sat a young woman Cardin had little chance to speak with since signing up with the Atlesians, but he knew her from her participation in the Vytal Festival, she stood by while Penny dropped rocks on his team. Ciel Soleil was quiet, often had her eye on the time, but Cardin was never sure if that was a nervous tic of hers or if she really did have everything planned to the minute. There was another gentleman, one seated to Ironwood's left. He wore navy whites, had brass bars on the side of his freshly ironed yet tattered jacket, signifying his rank as a corvette captain and he appeared to have recently lost his arm given the way he sat, subconsciously attempting to shift his weight on the absent limb.

While Dolm continued his the long tirade Cardin had walked in on, the Winchester waltzed to Ironwood's side of the room and joined a certain petite bunny eared girl with her back against the wall. "What'd I miss?" Cardin asked quietly as not to interrupt just whatever it was he'd just walked in the middle of.

"The usual." Velvet whispered beneath, keeping her attention forward as she discretely jotted down notes on a paper pad. Ever the journalist, even when wearing poorly fitted Atlesian armor, it was a pleasant sight to say the least, given all the insanity in recent memory.

Cardin turned his attention forward, back to the shouting and quiet listening. It was then that he realized he and Velvet weren't the only second stringers standing idle. Cardin bit his lip and mentally kicked himself over the other bodies that filled the opposite side of the room. Beneath blackened out lights, almost hiding in shadows, stood Jaune, arms folded over his chest in a similar fashion to that of Glynda's and the icy glare he held trained forward to those sitting on the Atlesian side of the conference table.

Jaune, however, was not alone. Cardin glanced to the other corners of that side of the room, and almost as if he were peeling back the darkness itself, he found Nora and Ren standing at the wayside, just as focused on the goings on at the table as Jaune was. Cardin shouldn't have been surprised to find them here, but still he was. It was quite jarring, to think someone like Jaune, who a week ago found himself arguing with his team over team attack names in the middle of tournament fight, now stood imposingly with the most pissed off look on his face Cardin had ever seen.

"This is an illegal occupation!" Dolm shouted at the top of his lungs, slamming a fist on the wooden desk, causing it to shake. "You and your Atlesian dogs have seized the Kingdom of Vale in a time of crisis, do you know no shame?!"

"I wasn't aware we've seized anything." Ironwood said coolly, unfazed by the councilman's behavior. "Nor that our current shared predicament was an 'occupation'. We're stranded here, the same as those Vacuans and Mistralians living in the Melting Pot, it just so happens that we're taking up residence within an Atlesian corporation building."

"Which also just so happens to have positioned between the shore and the airstrip." Heyman spoke up in an accusing tone. "Priming yourselves to have complete control over who comes and goes, just like that Schnee fellow. Is that pissant even going to send help?"

Cardin was surprised by how Ironwood handled himself, to say tensions were high would be an understatement, in fact, he was the only one in the room with any semblance of restraint. "As you are right to remind me, our circumstance is less than ideal and most peculiar. But we're not controlling anything, the people of Vale are free to do as they wish in their own kingdom, to set sail off to Peach as often as they'd like and to take off into the air on whatever airship can still fly."

"Pfft, right." Heyman rolled his eyes. "Then what about the Schnee? With you set up here any Atlesian vessel could just land, we could be looking at an entire invasion force showing up at our doors and you'd just roll on in!"

"Yes, he did show up, to rescue his daughter." Ironwood said, a matter-of –fact. "His arrival caught us all off guard, to be perfectly honest, I find it very concerning that the first ship to arrive in Vale was that of a frightened father trying to save his daughter."

"If you can even call it that." Jaune sneered, catching the attention of all in the room. "He treated her more like property than that of a daughter."

"Need I remind you, that the terms of our 'guests' presence, that they remain silent unless addressed by the members of this discussion?" The wounded Atlesian Captain said, sending a sharp glare in Jaune's direction. The JNR leader simply looked to Glynda, who shared the Captain's icy expression. So the Arc bit his tongue and resigned himself to pout against the darkened wall.

It was Ironwood who spoke first after Jaune's interruption, who cleared his throat before resuming talks. "Yes, well, the manner in which Mr. Schnee arrived was peculiar, that's something I believe we all could agree on.' He said, in an effort to find some sense of common ground amongst those standing opposite of him. "But, we should be thankful, as before he departed I asked that he relay a message to the rest of the Atlesian council, to send aid quickly."

Cardin quickly exchanged a concerned look with Velvet, both recognized how fragile the peace they currently held was, as well as how terrible the current state of the kingdom was. What Ironwood ha said was most certainly intended to be taken as good news, probably something he'd been banking on to help earn the Valean government's trust, but it clearly had the opposite effect, as Cardin noted the twisting of their expressions.

"More Atlesian ships?! Are you out of your mind?!" Glynda practically screamed. "What do you think the people will do when they see more of your corvettes hovering above? They're all traumatized enough as it is James, we'll be seeing riots in the streets, an unrelenting purge!"

"It appears I alone possess any faith in the Valean people, then." Ironwood said, meeting Goodwitch's stare. "The people of Vale have been kicked, knocked down, shot up and exploded a thousand times over, since the first Noble Wars to even the Great War. I don't believe that you'll succumb to baser instincts, especially at the sight of supplies being airdropped into your settlements. Vale is above that, your people persevere in spite of the odds."

And then, to Cardin's surprise, Ironwood glanced over his shoulder and beckoned to the Winchester to come over. He blinked, not sure what to do. It was almost as if Cardin's body was on autopilot as the next thing he knew he was kicking off the wall and strutting towards the table, stopping right behind the General.

"Mr. Winchester," Ironwood addressed him while keeping eye contact with the three individuals standing in front of him. "Why did you join the militia?"

The easy answer for Ironwood's question would have been for Cardin to say because he'd asked him to. But that wasn't the answer Ironwood was looking for, this was a question of Cardin's character, a question of his motivations, as if to ask what would drive a proud Valean to wear Atlesain armor.

The answer was obvious, Cardin needn't ponder more than a moment. "Because Vale and its people need to be protected."

"And to what lengths would a man like you, Mr. Winchester, go to help your fellow countrymen?" Ironwood questioned. "To ensure the kingdom you loved could be reclaimed from the monsters that besieged it?"

Now that question, Cardin could answer in a heartbeat. So with a smirk, he said, "I'd wear the damn Atlesian flag if I had to."

"Ugh."Goodwitch groaned, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "The recruitment of Beacon's brightest is beneath you, James."

"Mr. Winchester, Ms. Scarlatina and all the others who've joined all wish to save their home," Ironwood leaned forward against the desk, folding his hands together on the wood. "And clearly, as you've proven in your reluctance to admit them as proper Huntsmen, the only way to do so is under another form of direction."

"You mean my refusal to turn a blind eye to how ill prepared they all are?" Glynda shot back. "All the forth year students are dead. The majority of third year students are lucky to be maimed. I can't with good conscience ask of my students to fight for their kingdom, knowing fully well they're unprepared for the tolls of war."

"War has already come to Vale, it's already claimed the lives of you people, to not utilize every willing body to combat the threats that endanger Vale will be the doom of us all."

"The only threat to the people of Vale I see is sitting in front of me." Dolm sneered, sparing a glance between Ironwood and then to Cardin. "You claim that siding with these butchers is for the good of Vale, the good of the people, you're fool. I'm not sure you're even an idealist, but I am certain you're a fucking idiot, boy." He glared.

"Enough!" Ironwood shouted, raising his voice for the first time since Dolm had started yapping his mouth. "I won't let you chastise my people, let alone your own. This meeting is over." He said finally.

Dolm gritted his teeth at the sound of the conference room door opening at an audible creek. Outside light shone in and the two Atlesian soldiers standing guard peered in, waiting for the Valean council to depart. The Councilman was the first to depart, murmuring a number of curses, followed closely behind by Heyman. Goodwitch spared a glance Ironwood's way not at all attempting to hide the weariness she felt nor the sadness. After that, JNR followed, and with them gone the room appeared to brighten.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Winchester, M. Scarlatina." Ironwood said, glancing over his shoulder at the pair, putting on a smile. "I'm sorry if anything Mr. Mayflower said cut deep, I wish these were better times."

"Not even words can break past my semblance, sir." Cardin said, cracking a smile. "Will you be needing us for anything else, General?"

"No, that'll be all." The General said just as Ciel raised up her left arm to him and began tapping on her wristwatch. "Now, if you could, resume your assignments, the rest of us have a lot to discuss in private." He gestured to the door.

"Of course, sir." Velvet said as she and Cardin gave a salute. Without another word, they set off exit, passing the soldiers who shut the door after them. "So, that happened." She said as soon as they were down the hall.

"Yup." Cardin nodded in agreement.

"I didn't think things would get so heated, but, then again, I could see their side of the argument." Velvet said, raising a hand and rubbing her neck.

"And yet we're the only ones trying to help." Cardin muttered. "Ms. Goodwitch means well, but when have you seen a senior Huntsman running around?" He asked rhetorically. "Because there aren't any running around, they're all too busy operating in the other towns, in the villages far removed from the capitol. We're the only things keeping the monster out, Velvet."

"I know that," Velvet said, glancing at Cardin from the corner of her eye as they walked about freely. "But I'm saying that I can understand their perspective, after all, Atlesian ships shot at buildings."

"That was Roman Torchwick's doing, not the Atlesians."

"But Torchwick wasn't the one who shoved guns at people and pulled the trigger," Velvet countered. It was then that Cardin frowned deeply, reminded of the Atlesian Knights, how they'd murdered civilians right before his eyes. Picking up on this, Velvet reached out for Cardin's hand, gripping it tightly and looking up at the taller boy in concern. "You okay?"

The memories of that night dissipated and Cardin flashed a reassuring smile. "I'm fine." He said, drawing his thumb over Velvet's knuckle. "How about you?"

Velvet just smiled and stared upward into Cardin's eyes. "Doing good," She spoke quietly, almost longingly just as her gaze deepened. "As long as you are." Her lips pursed.

It was at that moment that Cardin realized just how ill experienced he was when it came to women. Sure, he'd had his school yard crushes and admired a fair few over the years, but aside from a drunken one night stand, he had about nothing to go off of. He felt his heartbeat quicken in its pace, his cheeks now burning and rosy red. But, to his credit, he didn't miss a beat. Cardin leaned down, his free hand drawn and already tenderly caressing Velvet's cheek, and claimed her lips with his own.

Not even a second later, the sound of a man clearing his throat caught their ears. Cardin and Velvet whipped apart, half expecting to find General Ironwood himself standing present. The rules of fraternization with the militia were uncharted territory, the last thing the pair wanted was scolding or some such nonsense. But just as they'd turned to face the wide eyed individual, a look of surprise appeared over their faces.

"Uh, sorry to bother you two." Jaune coughed once more. "But you and I need to talk." He pointed at Cardin."

"You were supposed to be escorted out of the building." Velvet squinted at Jaune. "What are you still doing here?"

"Snuck off, you're security's real lax," Jaune said casually before pointing to a door further down the hall with the words 'Emergency Exit' stamped on it. "Don't worry, I'll be leaving, I promise, but we need to talk."

"About what?" Cardin raised a brow.

"Where's Russel?" Jaune questioned in a serious tone completely alien to the Arc.

Cardin eyed Jaune cautiously, ever since news of Pyrrha's death had reached the JNPR leader, the word had been that he'd been sleeping less and building up his anger, which, given the way he was staring at him, Cardin was poised to believe. "Russel and I aren't exactly talking at the moment." He said, his earlier frown returning. "I don't think he took to kind to the idea of me working with Atlesians."

"That doesn't answer my question." Jaune said, the corners of his eyes now squeezing tightly against each other forming into a fine glare. "Now where is he?"

"I don't know." Cardin shrugged, speaking the honest truth, he really had no idea where Russel was or where he now lived, if he even found shelter. For all Cardin knew, Russel was now a wandering hobo, with the stick and all flung over his shoulder. But the question was so out of left field, Cardin felt a pit form in his stomach, so he decided to ask one of his own. "Why're you looking for him?"

Jaune shrugged. "He's got something that doesn't belong to him." He said cryptically before turning around and heading back the emergency exit, which he promptly kicked open and exited the building.

"…So," Velvet said after a long silence. "See you tonight?" She flashed Cardin a smile.

An eager smile graced Cardin's lips, but soon it vanished, replaced by a grimace. "I've got perimeter duty." He said, sounding apologetic.

"You're a bit late aren't you?" Clover Aves spoke in a playful tone.

"The job was completed on time, I just didn't bother to show up." Russel said as he reached in his back pocket and produced the bloodied hood of The Abbatoir Bloke. With the flick of his wrist, the hood went sailing across the enclosed room, landing on Clover's desk.

Clover Aves wasn't a person Russel would normally associated with, in fact, if it weren't for the Fall, he'd most certainly never had met the woman. A third year Beacon student, Clover would have made a decent Huntsman if she had a sense of responsibility. Word around the upper classmen dorms was that the brown and green haired woman sitting before him was the kind experimented in less than legal extracurricular activities. Nothing was ever proven of course, just like how no one discovered the unassuming visiting Haven students such as Mercury and Emerald were actually terrorists.

But desperate times called for desperate measures, and the last time Russel checked, Kevin was lying dead in his alleyway, he needed information and Clover was the only person he knew who could get him what he needed. Unfortunately, however, since the fall, money had seemed to have lost its value, and the importance of other goods and or services spiked. Thankfully, Clover had accepted services as form of payment as, frankly, Russel was dirt poor when it came to goods, his only belongings the tattered clothes he now wore, aside from a few other things he'd stashed away for personal reasons.

"McAllister was bad for business, only a fool gets addicted to his own supply. Waking up stripped bare in the melting pot square, should teach him." Clover shook her head as she eyed the bloodied hood she now held in her outstretched hand. "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him well!"

"It's 'I knew him, Horatio.'" Russel rolled his eyes.

"Really? Well who gives a fuck?" Clover cursed before tossing the hood aside. "Well, you held up your end of the bargain, I'd best hold up mine." A wicked smile graced her features. "But you're going to have to make it worth my while."

Russel just stared at the woman, anger swelling in his chest. He knew it was a risk dealing with these types, he knew she'd pull a fast one on him. "What do you want?" He sighed, throwing his arms up and then letting them fall to rest at his sides.

"That a hammer in your pocket?" Clover leaned forward and pointed to the hammer shaped protrusion against Russel's hip. "I want the hammer." She smiled.

Russel stared at the woman for a minute, unsure of what to do. The hammer was his only weapon, his only means of protection living in a Post-Fall Vale. There was no assurance that if he did part with it Clover wouldn't just turn around and demand something else. But Russel was running out of options, he was forced to play her game and Clover knew it.

With a sigh, Russel produced his hammer and walked across the room, presenting it to Clover. The once and former third year Beacon student shot him a toothy smile and plucked the tool from his hands before placing it under her desk. In the hammer's place, appeared a folder which instead of handing to Russel she dropped on her desk for him to pick up.

"I'd have never of guessed nice little boys like you were into this sort of shit." Clover practically giggled as Russel retrieved the folders contents.

Russel opened the folder and fond his payment, high resolution photos of Cinder turning Pyrrha to ash. "How'd you even get these?"

"Found a camera on a dead guy, probably a tourist who got snatched up by a Nevermore or some shit." Clover shrugged, obviously having previously pondered the origin of the photos herself. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know what happened to that girl's headdress would you?" She asked, smiling coyly. "That Jaune kid's been asking about it, seems so certain that you might know something."

Russel looked up from the photos and met her questioning eyes. And then that shit eating grin of his appeared. "And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken the corse they follow did with desperate hand fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate. Couch we awhile, and mark."

"Great, you have it fucking memorized." Clover rolled her eyes.

"Wait 'til you hear my Othello." Russel smirked.

"Our business is concluded, get the fuck out." She barked, producing her new hammer and smacking it on her desk like a gavel.

Without a word, Russel left, emerging out of a collapsed building. And then set off to Hooligan's.

It was a quiet evening, even if with all the people living on muddy street corners made it the most claustrophobic thing Russel had ever felt. Whatever tensions had clung to the air on either side of the Melting Pot had seemingly dissipated. It seemed almost fleeting to Russel, to find that everything could so at peace, if he hadn't known any better, he'd have assumed it was business as usual. The calm before the waking storm. So Russel closed his eyes and chose to savor the moment. He took in a sharp breath. Then he let it go.

Whatever brief reprieve, whatever solace he'd found in that quiet moment, Russel felt it slip through his fingers as he hurried through the Melting Pot in hopes of getting back to Hooligan's before dark. As he grew closer to his destination, Russel noticed the amount of people began to shrink. It was to be expected, Hooligan's was right near the edge of the safe zone, where few dared to tread, lest they risk the chance of a Grimm spring past their watch towers and plowing through whoever dared to live nearby.

But, along the way home, Russel past by the last bastion of centralized bodies, the chantry. The chantry would have been packed with the devout even on its worst day, packed with those willing to pray. But lately, it's been jammed packed, a lot more people praying as of late. Russel paid them no mind, just continued on his way. That was when he heard a scream.

Glancing over to the chantry, finding its people rushing out the door and a haunting screech chasing after them. There was a crashing noise, followed by more screams. Then, Russel's eyes widened at the sight of a Creep bursting out of a window. And then Russel found himself kicking himself in the ass, of all the times he could have parted ways with his hammer, he should have fought Clover over it rather than relinquish it. There was a Grimm running amuck and he hadn't a damn thing to stab it with.

Russel could have ran at the Grimm, but he was all too familiar with a Creep's pack mentality, there would no doubt be more close by. That left him without a lot of options, such as engage the beasts unarmed, which was as suicidal as it was stupid, and yet he would be buying the civilian's time to get to shelter or for another Huntsman or an Atlesian soldier to arrive. But there was also the second option that Russel could run and save himself, he wasn't a huntsman, he wasn't an Atlesian soldier, he wasn't obligated to risk his life. And yet he was going to do it anyway.

So he took off, running at the Creep as it attempted to bite at a parishioner. Russel reeled his arm back, intent on driving it down the Creep's throat, with any luck he'' manage to choke the blasted thing to death.

But Russel never got the chance, he never even got close. A long sword came swinging down, cleaving the Creep's massive head off the rest of its body. The Grimm dissolved, turning into dust in the wind and standing over the blade now stabbed into the ground was one Lance Grimsby.

"The beast is dead!" Lance shouted to the chantry goers. "My name is Lance Grimsby, Huntsman. And I kill monsters! Rejoice!"

Witnessing the murder of one of the beasts that killed their loved ones and driven them from their homes was enough to entice the crowd. At Lance's beck and call they began to chant, cheers and applause, finally the people had something to celebrate. And Lance just stood there, smiling, waving, being praised.

Russel just stood there, watching as the people began to chant Lance's name. "What the actual fuck is going on?"

When it comes to Dove, I'd think having a semblance that lets you fly would come in handy given the current situation in Vale, he comes and goes as he pleases. So, Dove's just trying to find his friend, the city's gone to hell and that's sort of all he wants to do.

I'd also imagine that after the fall, there'd be a lot of seats left vacant on the ruling council, like something out of The Dark Knight Rises where the mayor gets bombed while watching the football game. The football game in RWBY being the Vytal Festival.

And congrats to those who caught the Heyman Burns character being a mash up of both Joel Heyman and Burnie Bruns, who played those two detectives in Volume 1.

Cardin/Velvet.

Last chapter, during the opening portion, right before Russel left Hooligan's, there was a point where he passed over a bloodied hood he'd taken from some dude. In this chapter its revealed who its from, why he took it and for whom.

Clover Aves, the newest OC to appear in this story because there aren't nearly enough characters in canon for me to work with, really was created out of just wanting to write a character even more of an abrasive ass than Russel, who just doesn't give a damn but is kind of our view point of the city's underworld criminal element now that Roman and Kevin are dead. So, I was fun to write, even stretched some of that Russel 'is actually well-read' aspect of his character.

And Jaune wants something that Russel may or may not currently have. But, I'll talk more about that once that plot point is fully fleshed out.

Anyways, next chapter will be out next week, 'til then later days!