Hey everyone! Welcome back to an all new chapter of The Darkling Thrush! Oh boy, it's been a minute hasn't it? Apologies, but I've been busy with life and college, you know, that sort of thing.

I must admit, but while attempting to write this chapter, I kept finding myself struggling to whether proceed with this one first or substitute it with the arc that would follow it. Both are actually equally important, but it was something of a struggle to determine which would go before the other. This was because there was a through line between both arcs that I had in mind and I wasn't sure which should come before the other. So, here we are.

As always, more notes below! Now on with the story!

LVI

Days Gone Bye: Part 1

Today was meant to be a day of celebration. For the first time in the past six months, power has finally been restored to the remnants of the city of Vale. As those stranded in the outskirt ruins and those newfound residents dwelling in the affectionately named Melting Pot, it was also meant to be a day of much sorrow. At least, that's what Kaidence Fulvous had intended when he awoke in the morning.

In the aftermath of The Fall, the White Fang had realized that the people of Vale would find their way out of the dreary darkness that they had cast them into. The though of them finding hope after such brutal onslaught had provided those with sense amongst the organization, primarily those of Adam and Pangolin, to cripple the people even further.

So they sent Kaidence into the city with a bomb.

Walking amongst the people had been easy. Kaidence had sacrificed much to ensure it would be so. The antlers that had once proudly shown from his scalp had been sawed. What identified him as a proud Faunus was no more and the humans were none the wiser.

A full two months of passing himself off as another Mistral refugee who'd been long forgotten by the sickening Kingdom had provided Kaidence with the necessary intelligence to choose the right target to remind the people of Vale of their vulnerability. So that once they'd begun to gather to witness their accomplishment, he would strike at the heart of their assembled mass, right at the center of the Melting Pot.

That was his intention, of course. But now, Kaidence was running across ruined rooftops, trying to lose the attention of pursuing Huntsmen.

He didn't when or how they'd figured him out, but it was obvious by their desperation that this was no simple check on a citizen. They knew him to be Faunus, they knew him to be White Fang. They knew he aimed to kill them all.

The pursuing Huntsmen were a curious sort. He recognized a few from passing during the days of his undercover work. Others, he'd seen on television, competing in the Vytal Tournament. But chief among them stood a figure he most certainly recognized, that almost everyone else knew from the final images to escape Vale during the Fall. The Huntsman leading the charge after Kaidence was Cardin Winchester, heir to the Winchester legacy and as of six months ago, alongside all other students of Beacon, a fully inducted member of Vale's Huntsmen.

He spurns his head forward and hastens his pace. He does not see the Huntsmen signal one of their own to diverge from the pack. Kaidence thinks to himself, about how all he needs to do is reach his destination. All he needs to do is run through the crowd and then set off the bomb. What did his one life matter in the grand scheme of things compared to the goals of the White Fang? The thought of trading his life, that of a lowly faunus, for that of hundreds of his people's opressors, appealed to his heart so dearly.

With his mind set and true, he leaps across one final rooftop and sees it, the masses congregating at the center of the Melting Pot. And for a moment it seems that Kaidence can see the future, of the world and how it will soon be, where his brothers and sisters live free of oppression, all thanks to his small contribution. All he must now do is push himself just a little further.

But before he can reach his final landing, before he can usher the promised vision of a fantastical world where faunus now lead the charge and destiny of the world of Remnant, a pair of hands thrust forwards off from the side and snag a hold of him. Caught by surprise, Kaidence cannot help but be snatched out of the air and slammed through the crumbling roof.

He falls and tumbles into the desolate makings of a former bedroom. He hits the floor, then he leaps up to orientate himself to better defend against his attacker. Kaidence looks to the opening in the ceiling, then he looks to the door. They'll be upon him, he realizes, it's a sure killing ground within these confined spaces, so then he makes a break for it.

Dashing for the doorway, Kaidence can hear his attacker enter the room through the opening, and that vision of the future that seemed so sure began flicker from his mind. What was once a sure thing now began to fade to fictitious day dreaming as his pursuer snagged ahold of his arm.

It was do or die as he was now forced to confront his pursuer. Spinning around to face the Huntsman, Kaidence reeled back his fist, aiming to punch with all his might. But the Huntsman was faster and beat him to the literal punch. A four fingered left hook that launched him airborne and out a nearby window.

There was a crash and, followed by a 'thud'. Then there was the rain, the fall of a hundred shards of glass soon succeeded by the silent compressed crash of boots landing on the side of the road.

Kaidence, in his now blood-soaked robes, groans and woes overs the festering wounds that no aura could possibly heal alone. He rolls in the glass, looking for purchase with the ground to crawl and drag his body away. But his attacker looms.

"You should've worked on your landing strategy." Russel Thrush smirks.

Applying his foot to the White Fang's back, the Huntsman pins the man to the ground. Leaning down, he swats away Kaidence's hands from his true target, the bomb that was destined to end the lives of many and dash away the few pieces of hope that the people of Vale still possessed. A cursory glance over the device and a crease forms at the corner of his lip as he realizes the bomb had yet to be armed. With the plot foiled, Russel turns his back and steps away from the wounded White Fang as the Huntsmen he traveled with and emergency service specialists began to arrive.

No casualties on the Huntsmen side of things, no unnecessary civilian deaths and the world doesn't feel like it's ending. To Russel, it feels like a good day.

It is a cold morning and the sun has yet to break the sky. But the scent of morning dew lingers in the air and stirs The Iron Nail from his slumber. Silent musings and fleeting whispers of the night fill the room of the fabled agent of the White Fang.

Taking a stand from his bed, The Iron Nail's aura shimmers alive as the metal armor coating of his semblance reflexively activates. He turns and approaches a nearby mirror adorning a dresser and gazes upon his visage through his one eye and thinks to himself, here in the darkened room, that the man standing before him could not possibly be The Iron Nail.

The White Fang had sung songs of praise for The Iron Nail and his deeds, celebrating the liberation of camps and his contributions to the effort's goals of widespread Faunus empowerment. The Iron Nail, man of unstoppable steel, who stood beside The Great Ghira as they tore down Menagerie's Walls and build upon the rubble the foundation of new Faunus society. A crusader of unending drive, The Iron Nail cut through the lines of Langue with a pair of unstoppable daggers took through the night and stood upon a mountain of dead armies, all in the name of faunus everywhere.

That was The Iron Nail. But the man standing before him was not that. His semblance deactivated, the metal coat of armor receding through the pores of the skin. Now, staring back at him, a tired old man who'd seen too much, who'd done so much, and yet had too little to show for it. This was not The Iron Nail that faunus parents spoke of too their children. This was not a paragon of ideology.

He was just a man.

With a gasp, he traces a hand over his face, from his claw mark scars adorning his bald scalp, to that of his right eye, or rather, what should have been his right eye. Obsidian deep claws had marked his scalp, cutting through the impervious metal coating afforded to him by his semblance, a feat never heard of, all thanks to the surprise assault by an Ursa. The socket remained vacant, any offers about a potential prosthetic replacement had been declined. The scars The Iron Nail would forever serve as a reminder of the dangers that plagued the world and that of the consequences of his lack of caution.

The rush of his mind while his body plays catch up, The Iron Nail thinks here in his most private of thoughts in uninfringed solace of the failures and deaths he could not prevent, of the people he'd known in this decade spanning journey and the friends he'd buried all in pursuit of the fantasy of universal Faunus freedom.

He thinks to Oakwood, of The Ursa and then of him. He thinks of his demotion, of serving under Pangolin during The Fall. He thinks of the faunus boy who aspired to be a Huntsman, who fought against his own interests and against his brethren in Amity. He then thinks of his mercy and desire to spare the boy, because despite his decisions to be a human lapdog, the boy was still one of them, he was still faunus.

But then Pangolin intervened and took the young man's life.

He had gone to Adam the following night, after they'd watched the city burn and symbols of human supremacy crumble to dust, he'd gone and spoken with the White Fang overseer and voiced his complaints. He'd done so because he'd assumed Adam would see things his way, that Pangolin's actions were beneath that of the organization, that it went against all their beliefs.

Instead of reprimanding Pangolin, Adam had rewarded him and given the young Captain a new mission and greater command. The killing of one of their own had been seen as an act of patriotism, instead of a horrid act of murder.

The ideals and beliefs that The Iron Nail professed were the very same of the White Fang. He above all others would know, he was there when they first created the organization. But now, someone with greater authority and command had gone and spat over those very ideals. The thought did not sit well with the Iron Nail.

It had been six months since that night in Vale, over a year since that night in the fields of Oakwood, six years since he'd said his goodbyes to the best friend he ever had and forty since they'd founded the White Fang. The Iron Nail has never felt so old in his life.

Quietly in the stillness of early day, he resumed his morning preparations. Dressing fully, arming himself with weapons of lesser renown than those which he had held through war and siege, the Iron Nail stood tall and headed out for his appointment.

Stepping out of the Inn, the old and weathered faunus was met with peaking sunlight and the sounds of locomotion and the scent of the coming day's labor. It had been a long time since he'd graced this fair land of Menagerie with his presence.

Menagerie, a word for a zoo of beasts. But there are no beasts here. Only people with the freedom to govern their own lives and determine their own futures without the interference and corruption of the humans.

The history of the Faunus has been a long and bloodied affair, as written records would clearly attest. For centuries most Faunus were nomadic, roaming the desert wastes of what would one day become Vacuo or would be settlers striking out in more Eastern part of the world. Most were met with fierce bias, while some others were tools and objects to be used in wars conjured by petty kings. For some many years there had been those who'd believed that the Faunus would never have a land of their own, not until they'd wrangled free a plot from their human oppressors.

Menagerie was the land given to the Faunus, to serve as something as a boon to quell further attempts to unhinge the powers that be and their age-old games of playing god with other peoples lives. The island itself was inhospitable and only given to the Faunus for the deniability of their systematic racism. But the Faunus had always been an enduring people and they banded together and made Menagerie a step toward paradise.

For all the years that the four kingdoms have spent squabbling, playing king maker and secret political liaisons, their vision had clouded. They thought they could put the Faunus into a box time and time again, Menagerie being only one of their many failed attempts. Because once more the Faunus had persevered and made the land their own.

Soon enough, the ideas that made Menagerie the haven for Faunus would soon spread to the rest of Remnant. At least, that was what the Iron Nail told himself, as he arrived at 'The Palace'. He'd spent so many years believing in that sentiment and yet he'd seen so much to disprove his thoughts, that the outside world might never change. Maybe now that he was here, within the shadow of the White Fang's head quarter's that he might settle his unease.

Stepping through the halls of The Palace, The Iron Nail was met with disinterested glances and snorts, it wasn't everyday where one would see an old relic such as he. Once upon a those who served within the White Fang would have heard of him, if not by name then by exploits. They would stop and stare in idolization and reverence, while others would salute. Now, however, it was as if a leper walked amongst them.

Reaching the receptions desk, he was halted in his stride by a youth who wore a mask a size too big for his face. "Our leader's time is important. Do you have an appointment?" The youth inquired, doing his best to be polite despite the bluntness of his words.

"I do." Came the Iron Nail's reply.

Scrolling through a list and checking the time, the youth caught whiplash by turning to face

"Hey, you're him aren't you?" The youth manning the reception inquired. "You're the old guy who fought at The Fall of Vale?"

Seeing no need to lie, The Iron Nail saw fit to answer accordingly. "I was there, yes."

The receptionist was practically leaning over the counter by now. "What was it like? To see a human Kingdom fall?"

What was it like indeed? To see a long thought symbol of human oppression to melt away like wax to a flame. It was only in the parts of his youth when he'd been far too willingly to give into the fantasies of his mind that he had thought such acts could occur. That a faunus such as he could walk into their city and swat away the humans as if they were flies.

But that was not what had happened. He'd gone into their homes under the cover of their bi-yearly games of celebration. Then they'd gone and bomb their symbol of peace and crashed it down onto their kingdoms surface. Flame kissed the rock and man devouring beasts laid siege upon their homes and places of worship.

Then his thoughts drifted to the faunus boy who wished to be a Huntsman. He who had stood with humans in vain to stop prevent them from accomplishing the impossible. But they'd fallen, all the humans who'd dare to stand in their way had fallen, but so did the faunus boy Ezekiel. A faunus had decided to forgo his relationship with his brethren and stood ready to fight and die beside those who'd make slaves of them all. And he was not the only one.

Vale was a city birthed from the machinations of their human oppressors. But humans were not their only inhabitants. So too were the misguided faunus who'd accept the scraps of ilussionary freedom they'd been offered. There was no telling how many of them were there when Amity had fallen and that haunted The Iron Nail.

The Iron Nail thought over the youth's question once more and thought long and hard about his answer. He looked the young man in the eyes and gave the only answer that could possibly mean anything to anyone. "There was screaming."

The receptionist's slightly widened, having expected a modicum of something glorious, not a peek into a night of horror.

Time passed. People left the from the throne room. Some walked past The Iron Nail where he sat and passed reception without need of an appointment. But the old soldier did not raise a fuss, to caught up in his thoughts of a night months past. He was almost reluctant to proceed with his meeting upon being called. He voiced his thanks to the receptionist, as it was the curious thing to do and went off.

Taking his leave for the throne room, The Iron Nail's thoughts lingered. He hadn't been older than the boy manning reception when he'd first took to the stand for his people. While it did his heart proud to see such young minds putting their time and energy into fighting for their species, he hoped that the boy would never see the day of lengthy wars and seared homelands. He very much doubted that he would survive the experience.

Pushing past the too tall for comfort doors of that lead into the throne room, The Iron Nail was greeted by a familiar sight of dedicated bodyguards in cloaks and white masks, standing at attention while their leader sat up above a series of steps overlooking the room. Though the furniture and scenery remained the same, the one sitting upon the mighty throne of White Fang leadership was not, however, she was still a familiar face.

"Nail," Sienna Khan, the leader of the White Fang greeted the old warrior with a soft smile. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. It's good to see you."

"You have no reason to apologize, you're a busy woman these days and the not the child I met all those years ago." Despite himself, he managed to smile. "I trust things are well with you?"

"As well as they might be, considering mounting pressure from the four kingdoms" Sienna spoke, not one to downplay the severity of their situation with the continued struggle with The White Fang and their "It appears whatever goodwill we had with the humans has since been squandered thanks to a certain incident six months ago."

"The goodwill of the humans was hardly a concern. It was the hearts and minds of faunus everywhere we wished to earn." The Iron Nail paused for a moment, thinking over the words that had just left his mouth and finally of the events that had led him to his coming here to Sienna's throne. "At least, that's what I was led to believe."

"Your reason for seeing me?" Sienna raised a brow. "You said it was urgent."

"Thoughts that have been stewing in my head, about what I'd seen in Vale, of an action committed by one of our own and its handling by our immediate superior. And you know it's never been my style to go over another's head to voice my grievances." The old veteran frowned.

"That's because the only one you ever used to answer to was Ghira." The White Fang leader uttered pointedly, having learned so through experience.

A pang of guilt crossed The Iron Nail. He wondered if Ghira and his family were okay. Last he'd heard their daughter had severed ties with The White Fang and run off to become a Huntress. He could only hope that she had elected to seek her studies somewhere else other than Vale. "Yes, well, that may be true, but I'd like to think the standard was upheld in the years after his retirement."

"So why now?"

The Iron Nail sighed and thought once more the night in Vale. He thought of Ezekiel. He thought of reaching out to drag the boy's unconscious body away from the battle and deliver him elsewhere. But then his superior had intervened and put one between his eyes. "Pangolin, you know of him?"

"I have read Adam's reports, and his commendation of Pangolin's actions during The Fall."

"Then you've no doubt heard my displeasure at the murder of a faunus."

"The murder of a faunus? No. The murder of a Huntsman, yes, I have heard."

The Iron Nail whipped his head around. "I'm sorry?"

"I may be known for my decisions to play politics, Nail, but I too have been in the trenches. I may not have seen as much action as you have; I doubt anyone else here has, but I have fought Huntsmen before, and not all were human. However, the man that Pangolin killed was not faunus, Nail, he was a Huntsman." Sienna spoke harshly, her words seeming to cut deeper than any blade ever could. "He renounced his people and any rite to be considered as such the moment he dedicated himself to a system of government that fostered our continued subjugation."

"Would you say his actions were then just?" The Iron Nail looked up to one whom he'd watched since her days as a child who'd risen through their ranks to sit upon their throne as their leader, one who's opinion he highly valued and wished would see things his way.

"I say that Captain Pangolin acted reasonably." The White Fang leader spoke neutrally, reining back any personal feelings from the matter. "Though I disagree with Adam and his drastic escalation, his decisions have renewed footholds in the other kingdoms that have once been thought forgotten. Pangolin's actions should serve as an example to all those who would side against their people."

Stunned, The Iron Nail could only gape at his leader in disbelief. He had thought long on his feelings in the matter, he'd thought that she would share his views, that Pangolin had acted inappropriately and should be relieved of his command. He barely responded. "Is that your final word on the matter?"

"All the years you'd been fighting for us, for faunus everywhere, you mean to tell me you'd never once been forced into a position where you'd been forced to kill one of us who'd been fighting for the humans?" Sienna supposed, aiming to have The Iron Nail view from her shared perspective of Pangolin.

"I have fought other faunus before, yes." He answered honestly. "But I have never killed a brother nor a sister. I always found another way."

Sienna Khan, the leader of The White Fang, could only stare at her senior. "I'm sorry, but times have changed, Nail. That kind of thinking cannot possibly reap the results we require for this new day and age." She looked upon him, as if fearful of what he would do now. "You will return to your post, will you not?"

He stared at her for a moment longer, then swallowed his pride. "Yes, I suppose I will."

Turning to leave, it is then that a thought flutters through his mind, that perhaps The Iron Nail's time has finally gone.

Lights were shining through the shell-shocked land, that much Russel could see from his perch atop the SDC building. The makeshift command center for all things Huntsman related had the best real estate bar none, a nice view to survey all of the city the remained under their control as well as tall enough for one of their number to slink off and collect himself after another day's work.

Just another Faunus trying to take a shot at the crippled Vale, nothing that Russel and his cohorts couldn't deal with. But that was just the issue, it had been another attempt and certainly wouldn't be the last. In the span of six months there had been a grand total of twenty-two attempted bombings. There just seemed to be no end in sight.

As far as they could tell, the White Fang had left the city after The Fall and yet they persisted with these attempts at kneecapping them. The remnants of the city under Huntsman control were considerable despite them being but a percentage of the vast city, but due to their displacement during the initial days of their current situation, they'd taken stock of who was who and where was what, meaning for all they knew there were no secret meetings in warehouses for further White Fang plans of dissention.

Ultimately, that meant there were no White Fang operations currently based in Vale, the were located elsewhere in an adjacent position. Now where that happened to be was the current question running through the top brass' heads. Turning the lights back on was a great accomplishment for Vale, but if they wanted them to stay on then they were going to need to curb all White Fang efforts immediately, that meant finding their forward positions and neutralizing them. The only question was where.

But Russel wasn't hanging out on rooftop just to mull over the certainties and uncertainties that plagued the people of Vale, no, he had an appointment.

"Have you thought of my offer?" He hadn't even heard the roof access creak open.

"Six months we've been living in the dark, children huddling together in the lonely cold while their fathers and mothers scraped by off scraps and brick" He spoke, not once parting his gaze from the coast. "Then all of a sudden we get the lights turned on. The dark isn't so scary anymore now that we've got ourselves a torch to shine in it. But when their leader, the lady whom they all now answer to, is supposed to take the reins and show them all there isn't much to be afraid of anymore now that they've all had their first victory in what now seems like a lifetime, instead she goes and meets with someone far less important to discuss matters far less pressing."

"I wouldn't call this discussion anything other than pressing." Goodwitch spoke with the calm demeanor of a seasoned educator, the kind that commanded respect and demanded one's attention. But by now she was familiar with Russel and his issues with authority. "It is a nice view." She said, turning her eyes to the water.

"The one on the dormitory was better." Russel muttered bitterly.

"I could think of a couple of people who'd share the sentiment." She spoke with the obvious intent to egg him on.

He scoffed, eyes shifting slightly away from his view of the ocean to fi a stare on the highest-ranking Huntress in Vale. "That so?" He said, as if he were daring her to continue that train of thought.

Goodwitch was all too familiar with the pains of angst driven feelings of those whom she'd instructed over the years. To say she called his bluff would be a ludicrous underestimation. "I hear you're still looking for Ms. Nikos."

Taking the comment in stride, Russel let out a humorless laugh and countered. "I found Sky, didn't I?"

"He wasn't lost to begin with." Goodwitch commented, turning her gaze to the young Huntsman seated with his back against an AC unit. "I hear they've made a statue in her honor."

Russel scoffed. "Only one?"

She raised a curious brow. "Do you believe she deserves more?"

He met her stare. "Not just her."

Goodwitch nodded, half in understanding and half in sympathy. Through the actions of a simple few, one of the mightiest kingdoms had the rug ripped out from under them and Monty knows how many of the best and brightest had died during the onslaught. To the day, the numbers of their dead were unknown. All were busy trying to think of what they could save, rather than think of what they'd lost.

"We'll take it back one day. We'll take it all back." Goodwitch vowed not so much to Russel but more so to herself. "Not just for the living, but for the dead as well."

"Just a bit iffy on the 'when' and 'how'."

Goodwitch sighed. "It is a process. The reality of our situation guarantees that. Not to mention the tumultuous task of rebuilding afterward."

"But do you have the time?"

Such a question resonated with Goodwitch. With so much uncertain with the future, maybe she won't see the reclamation of Vale within her life time. Then again, maybe there won't be a reclamation at all. Despite there best efforts there still was the possibility that it would be for naught. "Perhaps, perhaps not. A lot can happen in a day's time, as you no doubt could attest. But we will do as we must with what we can. It all comes down to us all in the end, to persevere and continue to fight against all those who would threaten humanity."

A brief pause and Goodwitch had half thought she'd stunned the Thrush with her insights. However, she should have known better than to assume. "No. I meant, do you have the time to get from here to address the public for the celebration? Can't really give a speech if your not there."

"Ah. I see." She shot him a scrutinizing look. "You worded it that way on purpose." His answer was a smirk. "Very well, I'd best be off, too much to do." Goodwitch said before making her leave.

"Uh-Huh."

"Russel." She said, looking over her cape draped shoulder and meeting the Thrush's eyes. "Your answer?"

"I…" He thought it over. But he was still undecided. "You'll have it soon."

With that, Goodwitch had left, to prepare for the evening's celebrations. But even after she' gone, his eyes had kept watch in the direction she'd gone, as if to make sure the severe weight that she'd pressed on his shoulders had left as well. But alas, it seemed it had not.

It had been something of a surprise to Coco that the latest bomber had been the first to break in interrogation. All it had taken was some good natured one on one conversation.

"So you got my name, right?" The White Fang bomber, Kaidence, asked from where he sat cuffed on his side of the table.

On the other side, the bunny eared Velvet sat with her note pad and pen in hand. "That's 'cadence' with a C or a K?"

"With a K." He smiled.

"No last name?" She asked, looking up from her notepad.

"Naw. Just 'Kaidence'. That's my White Fang name." The White Fang operative nodded to himself. "So, just to make sure. You're really going to put my name and picture out there, as well as my cooperation with The White Fang?"

"Of course, why would I lie to you about that?" Velvet gave a shrug. "You're a faunus celebrity now. This is front page material: 'White Fang Agent Strikes Against Vale'. How's that for a headline?"

Kaidence placed both of his hands-on table with an audible 'slap', "I friggn' love it."

"So, let me run this by you one last time to check if I got everything down properly," Velvet said, giving the prisoner a look at her notepad.

"Uh…hm" Kaidence hummed to himself as he read what Velvet had jotted down. "No, they recruited me out of Grendel."

"Grendel, Atlas or Grendel, Vacuo?"

"Oh that's in Vacuo. I'm from Vacuo."

Velvet snapped her fingers and pointed at the young man sitting across from her. "See, that's helpful information. I need that to get the sheer authenticity of your story."

"You think so?"

"Yes" She slowly nodded. "It's the little details that humanize us and help reach wider audiences. We definitely need those little details."

"I see," Kaidence leaned forward to better give his hands access to scratch his nose. "I write poetry, does that make me more appealing?"

"Not sure, but lets keep focused to what I have written down for the time being." Velvet said, redirecting the young man's attention back to the notepad with her pen. "You're a tough young White Fang Patriot, so of course they recruited you. So you studied in the no man's land territories correct?"

"I wouldn't say studied, more like they recognized my inherent White Fang loyalty and recruited me for my mission. But, yeah, in that relative area that's where I was brought into the fold."

Despite the sound proofing of the room looking into this one, Velvet could hear Coco laughing like a madwoman.

"Alright, well, thank you Kaidence for your help with my…article." Velvet said delicately, giving the guy a smile as she closed her notepad and signaled for the guards. "These fine gentlemen will show you to where you'll be staying for the foreseeable future."

"They say Ghira did time too, back in the old days." Kaidence smiled with stars in his eyes as the pair of Huntsmen grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him out of his seat, freeing him from the table in the process. "Can I get a copy of that article when it gets published? I'd really like to have it on my wall."

Velvet gave a look over her shoulder to the one-way mirror looking into the room. She could practically feel the stupid look Coco was giving her. "Uh…sure, I don't see any issue with that."

"Sweat." He smiled wide before being shoved out of the room by the guards. "Viva la White Fang!"

With that over and done with, Velvet reclined in her cheaply made chair rubbed the back of her neck. For almost an hour, she'd been sitting there listening to the guy run his mouth. While it had been beneficial, it almost seemed like the sacrifice had been too high. She was never going to get that hour of her life back and she knew it.

The reflection on the mirror dissipated, revealing Coco in the room over. The former CFVY leader looked at her friend with the biggest grin she could muster and hit a button on a console, allowing her voice to carry into the interrogation room. "I can't believe that fucking worked!" Coco laughed. "Oh my, Monty! Good job Velvet!"

"The White Fang must be truly desperate for membership to enlist someone like him." Velvet said dryly as she reviewed her notes, making the correct amendments.

"Well, they did give the guy a bomb and told him to run at a crowd full of people." Coco hollered. "He definitely wasn't one of their line backers if you catch my drift. More like…I don't know, what's an adequate simile for something expendable?"

"A plastic cup?"

"Yeah, there we go, that guy was basically a plastic cup."

"Oh joy, I just spent an hour of my life talking to a plastic cup." Velvet half heartedly raised her arms into the air as she walked out the room. "Living the dream."

"So, you going write that article?" Coco asked upon meeting Velvet in the outside hallway.

"Eh," She gave her longtime friend and team leader a shrug. "I'm going to write something for our new paper, so, you know what, why not?"

"So, you going to tear him apart in it or what?"

"Oh, no, I'm going to stay true to my word and write it so he's portrayed as a White Fang patriot, but for wide release I'm totally going to objectively and unbiasedly rip him a new one." Velvet couldn't help but smile. One could argue that Kaidence wasn't really at fault, just fed lies by the White Fang. But at the end of the day, he'd tried to bomb a public gathering. As a journalist, Velvet felt the need to report the facts and truth. As a Huntress, she felt it was her duty to spread his story to help educate others about the lengths the White Fang would go to harm others. As a resident of Vale she just wanted a little payback. This seemed like an excellent means to satiate all three roles. "Now what?"

"Now?" Coco smirked, as she looked over Velvets notes. "Now we get even."

Word had spread easily, all the people had to do was see the SDC building along the coast pierce through the dark. Like moths to a flame, they gathered near the gates, not so much unlike how they'd done so six months earlier when they'd been on the brink. The thought was not lost on Glynda Goodwitch took to the center of an impromptu made stage. A spotlight shining down from above, encircling her and directing the gathered audience to look upon her.

"People of Vale," Goodwitch spoke without a microphone. But she did not need it, for the people were silent. They all knew what she had to say was important and none would dare interrupt. "One hundred and eighty-two days ago we'd witnessed the worst attack in the history of the four kingdoms. Since then, we've lived in the dark, cowering by candle sticks and waiting for someone in the world to take pity on us."

"But no one did!" She shouted. "Day after day, it has been a constant struggle, a matter of life and death as we toiled with the threat of food shortages and of blight. But we endured, we stayed our course and overcame the darkness!"

She paused. There were a couple of cheers. Then she continued. "We, your protectors, your Huntsmen, we'd failed you in the most trying time. But never again! We've shown the world and ourselves that we can come back from the edge of oblivion! From this moment forward I say no more! No more losing your loved ones in times of celebration! No more losing friends and family to a terrorists bullet! No more Grimm coming to our homes! Your heroes! Your Protectors! Your Huntsmen! We vow to redouble our efforts! To protect you all from those who'd seek to harm you! We, your Huntsmen, we are your Shield!"

More applause. More cheers. More high hopes, the kind that would repel even the Dragon frozen atop Beacon. "This is it, this is the first step. It won't be the same. We can never take back what happened. But we can move on. Our enemies, the ones responsible for this, have not yet broken us! The world took its best shot at us! And we're still here!" Goodwitch could feel their stares, the excitement in the air as electric as the currents now running through the land lines. "We the people of Vale! We are still here!"

The floodgates opened and the people of Vale applauded.

From up above the roof of the SDC building, Russel peered over the edge, glancing down from his perch, straining to hear Goodwitch's words. Nonetheless, her words reach his ears.

"She knows how to whip up a crowd," Cardin spoke, making his presence known.

"We kind of need that, don't we?" Russel mused as he continued to observe the gathering. "All the council members are dead. All that's left are the Huntsmen. That's all that consists of our governing body."

"At least they've got us." Cardin said, earning an agreeing nod from his friend. Letting the sentiment stand for some time, watching as the people below celebrated, it now seemed like the appropriate time to change the subject. "Orders just came in. Got a hot tip on the location of The White Fang's forward base."

"When do we leave?" The Thrush asked.

"Within the hour."

"Sounds like a plan," Russel said, turning his back to the crowd and giving his partner a grin. "Let's go wreck someone else's house."

Looking back, I realized that we're officially stepping into the second act of the story. Tears of Venezier was the moment Russel became a legit Huntsmen. We're officially in the second act of the story now. I can't guarantee Empire Strikes Back level of insanity, but things will go down now that our boy Russel is out in the world.

What made writing this a bit difficult was originally I'd envisioned this story arc to be five stand alone stories revolving around the six months between volume 3 and 4. I do plan on doing something like that further down the line, but no any time soon.

I'm unsure of how you all will respond to The Iron Nail and his development. He's a character who's been around since almost the beginning of the story, but he's an OC, so I really don't know how you all feel about his character.

Also, Velvet as an interrogator? I got stuck writing how the story was going to progress but then the idea of Velvet running an interrogation with her reporter cred was too good an idea to pass up.

Next chapter, Russel and company are heading westward. I think I've already warn out my welcome with introducing OC characters to be protagonists. Expect some familiar faces to accompany Russel next chapter onward.

Anyways, until next time! Later days!