Hunters of Justice

by trestwho

Remnant has fallen, its cities captured and its greatest defenders defeated at the hands of the alien conqueror, Brainiac. In the aftermath of his victory, the people of Remnant's last hope lies in the hands of two teams of students, whisked away to another world. A world where Gods walk among them.

71. Brave New World

Hunters of Justice (RWBY/DC)

Chapter 53: Brave New World

December 28th, Year 1, 9:45 AM (Eastern Standard Time)

Watchtower, Earth Geosynchronous Orbit

"I don't understand why you two are so insistent on this," Qrow complained as he, Ruby, and Yang sat together in one of the many observation rooms, giving them a perfect view of the planet below.

"Look, I know it's a bit of a change," Ruby admitted, briefly pausing to take a bite out of her cereal, "but, like it or not, being a Huntsman simply doesn't pay the bills anymore. Sure, there's Grimm running around, but they're both not nearly as widespread as they were on Remnant and no one is paying people to go get rid of them. In fact, we're trying to make sure it doesn't get to that point."

"Never said that was a bad thing," Qrow muttered. If he was being honest with himself, had the situation on Remnant improved to where a Huntsman like him was never needed at all, he'd have hung up Harbinger with no regrets.

"Either way, it's not an option. Which means you're going to have to get a job like the rest of us," Yang declared with a cheeky grin on her face.

"Isn't that Bruce guy paying all your bills?" Qrow flatly pointed out, refusing to call the billionaire Batman when it was just him and his nieces. Frankly, he didn't understand why all these superheroes insisted on using their codenames when in private, but he also didn't really care.

"Yes, but the less we have to rely on him, the better," Yang answered, and Qrow nodded in acceptance. The fact that they likely wouldn't be able to afford their apartment without Bruce's help went unsaid.

"Fair enough," Qrow replied before taking a bite out of his toast. Swallowing his food, he then said, "But, and here's the key thing, I've only ever been a Huntsman."

"Yeah, but that was on Remnant. This is Earth! A new start for all of us," Ruby happily proclaimed, only for Qrow to shake his head and put down his plate.

"No, no. Ruby, you're not understanding," Qrow tried to clarify. "I've been a professional Huntsman for longer than you two have been alive. That's all I've had experience in, and ever been trained for. Not only that, but I have no prior history here. What job could I possibly get?"

"There's plenty of jobs out there. We found some quickly," Ruby pointed out, only for Qrow to shake his head.

"You, Yang, and your friends are all young and knew the right people. I don't have that option, not really," Qrow said, quickly raising his palm to stop his nieces from interrupting him. "I'd also rather not rely on other people to get a job."

"Oh, come on, Uncle Qrow. Accepting help is not a bad thing," Ruby softly replied, and Qrow released a sigh.

"I know, I know. Just…let a man have his pride," Qrow requested, causing his nieces to giggle. He released a smile before straightening himself, then he added, "But I see your point. Especially since being a superhero apparently doesn't bring in a paycheck."

Sensing his obvious irritation, Ruby and Yang chuckled. Ruby then tried to explain, "Well, being a superhero is like public service. Getting paid isn't supposed to be the point."

"And that's fine and all, for living gods and billionaires," Qrow pointed out, a slight frown on his face. "I know the League gives its members stipends to help pay for living expenses, but it's not enough for anything more than that. If you ask me, if they paid superheroes like they did for Huntsmen they'd be able to devote a lot more time to actually being superheroes."

Ruby and Yang glanced at each other. While they both knew their uncle had a legitimate point, one that had been raised repeatedly by the League itself before and after their arrival on Earth, he also wasn't seeing the full picture. Heroes not getting paid ensured that the ones who existed were doing the work for truly altruistic reasons, most of the time at least. If superheroes got paid for what they did, it ran the risk of turning the act of heroism into just another job. Given how prominent superheroes had become over the past decade, that wasn't a prospect anyone liked to think about.

They also knew that Qrow still had an issue with the whole 'secret identity' thing, which Ruby and Yang had both come to readily agree with. Superheroes keeping secret identities allowed them to still be a part of wider society without being kept separate from it. Not only that, but many superheroes were able to do better through their civilian identities. There were problems that Superman couldn't solve with his vast strength, but Clark Kent could tear them apart with just a few words.

They weren't judging their uncle, far from it. Both girls and their friends would, honestly, like to actually get a paycheck for what they did. But, at the same time, they were happy with how things turned out for them.

Realizing that his complaining wouldn't actually change anything, Qrow hung and shook his head before releasing a sigh and saying, "But there's no helping it now. If I absolutely need to get a job, I suppose I can find one somewhere."

"That's great!" Ruby cheered. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"I figured I could become a mercenary or something," Qrow immediately answered, and his nieces recoiled.

"NO! Absolutely not!" they both shouted, causing Qrow to shoot his head back in surprise.

"What? Why? What's wrong with being a mercenary? I'd be perfect for it."

"You cannot be a mercenary and a superhero at the same time!" Ruby insisted, tapping her finger into Qrow's chest repeatedly to emphasize her point. "They are on completely opposite ends of the hero-villain spectrum!"

"I'd be an honorable mercenary. Wouldn't take any job that's illegal," Qrow tried to defend himself, but neither Ruby nor Yang bought it.

"Nope. We're vetoing it," Yang insisted while crossing her arms. "Our beloved uncle is not going to become Deathstroke's coworker, not if we can say anything about it."

Qrow released another sigh. Realizing that there was no arguing against this, and lacking the desire to do so, he relented and said, "Fine, fine. I won't become a merc."

"Thank you," Ruby replied, smiling widely. "Now then, just because you were a fighter your entire life doesn't mean you don't have any other skills to offer. Let's see… Oh yeah, you were a teacher at Signal!"

"I literally only took that job to be with you girls, and I quit when Ruby got accepted into Beacon," Qrow revealed, causing Ruby and Yang to pause.

"…Aww, thank you. That's sweet," Ruby cooed and clasped her hands together before straightening herself. "Anyway, you still have several years of teaching experience. You could become a teacher. One who's rough around the edges and off-putting at first glance, but once he and his students get to know each other over the school year, they find that they both have something to teach the other."

"…While that sounds super engaging," Qrow sarcastically replied, his eyes half-lidded, "I think I've had enough teaching experience to last a lifetime. If the Justice League needs me to help teach the younger heroes how to fight, I'll gladly do that, but I'm staying as far away from the classroom as possible."

"Hmph, you're no fun," Ruby grumbled while hunching over and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, there's other options," Yang started. "There's, uh… Let's see… Um…"

"You can't think of anything, can you?" Qrow asked, and Yang immediately nodded.

"I was kind of banking on the teaching job, honestly," Yang admitted, and Qrow rolled his eyes.

"Figured. Look, I know you two don't like it, but from where I'm sitting being a mercenary is the easiest fit for me. Unless you have any other suggestions for an ex-Huntsman?"

"You were under Professor Ozpin's direct employ for decades," J'onn J'onzz suddenly announced, causing Qrow to jump.

"Gagh! What the-?!" Qrow shouted, instinctually reaching for his weapon that wasn't there as the Martian Manhunter phased into the room from the hallway outside.

"Hey, J'onn!" Ruby greeted the Martian, who stoically nodded back before refocusing his attention on Qrow.

"Apologies, I did not mean to frighten you," J'onn said. "But I couldn't help but overhear and thought I could lend a suggestion of my own."

Calming himself down, Qrow looked at the Martian Manhunter and asked, "And that would be?"

J'onn nodded, then before their very eyes shapeshifted into the form of a Black man with thin black hair, wearing a tan trench coat and fedora. He then stated, "In my human identity as John Jones, I work as a detective for the Middleton Police Department. Doing so allows me to gather information and evidence for any crimes I'm attempting to solve."

"Sounds fitting," Qrow admitted while respectfully nodding towards the disguised Martian. There had been many times over his career where similar detectives were instrumental in his work. "But how does that apply to me?"

"You and your sister Raven, before her defection, were Professor Ozpin's primary field agents in his eternal war against Salem," J'onn pointed out as he shifted back to his Martian appearance. "An occupation that, by your admission, required gathering evidence, searching for and following up on leads, before finally using everything you had learned to accomplish whatever task you had been set upon."

"Oh! Oh, I get it!" Ruby proclaimed as she bounced around in her chair. "Uncle Qrow, you could become a detective! A private eye!"

"Detective Branwen does have a nice ring to it," Yang admitted. "Plus, you would fit the vibe of a noir-style detective perfectly."

"Hmm," Qrow hummed as he rubbed his chin. Transferring his skills as a scout into becoming a private eye wouldn't be too difficult, nor was it all that different from what he was doing as a Huntsman. The only difference, really, was that Huntsmen primarily went after Grimm whereas a detective mostly went after people.

"I'll have to think about it," Qrow finally said after a few moments of thought, "but I can see it."

Ruby and Yang silently cheered while pumping their fists, just happy that Uncle Qrow was no longer seriously considering becoming a mercenary. They then turned towards the Martian Manhunter, and Ruby said, "Thanks, J'onn."

"It was my pleasure, Ruby. Happy to be of assistance," J'onn replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Why were you coming down here, anyway?" Yang asked, and J'onn turned to look at her.

"The Schnees are starting their first Semblance Training session," J'onn announced. "They're offering to let anyone watch if they so desire."

Both girls nodded, then they got up from their seats to walk out the door. Qrow nodded in agreement as well, following after his nieces out into the hallway towards the training room.

---

"Wow, this place is amazing!" Penny exclaimed as she pressed herself against the glass viewing window of the holographic training room. "Not even Atlas has training rooms this impressive, and my father helped design them."

"Thanks, Penny. I'm proud of the work I did here," Cyborg told the young gynoid, who looked up at him in surprise.

"You made this place, Victor?"

"Not entirely, but I did help a lot," he clarified with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, and Penny nodded in acceptance before turning her attention back to the training room.

"Everyone quiet, they're about to start," Yang hushed them all, and the room fell silent with only the sound of soft breathing and the air conditioning being heard.

Everyone was focused on Willow, Weiss, and Whitley, standing in the center of the training room which had constructed the appearance of Amity Colosseum. All three were wearing matching light-blue and white workout gear, their weapons in hand with the notable exception of Whitley who was still carrying just a simple pole. Initially that was all he intended to wield during these family training sessions, particularly since he had no intention of actually going out into the field like his older sister. Ruby had tried to convince him of the value of actually having a personal weapon like Myrtenaster, something that Willow had readily agreed with and was having a claymore made for her in the Watchtower's forge as they spoke. But Whitley refused to listen, at least until Damian made a snide comment about his decision, at which point the youngest Schnee completely changed his mind.

Ruby still had no idea what weapon Whitley had decided on, as he was very withdrawn, but she was excited to see it.

"Now then," Willow Schnee began as she stood before her two youngest children, resting her claymore atop a glyph over her shoulder, "the Schnee Semblance has been passed down our family for generations. Before my father founded the Schnee Dust Company, we relied on our Semblance to both protect ourselves and provide for our communities. It, more than anything else, is the true hallmark of what makes a Schnee a Schnee."

"Hence why Jacques was so dismissive of it," Weiss muttered through a deep frown, and both Whitley and Willow firmly nodded.

"Indeed," Willow agreed before refocusing herself to the matter at hand. "In any case, with our glyphs we are able to do many great things, but Summoning is a technique beyond even that. It has its own rules and guidelines. In a way, you could say that Summoning is our true Semblance that we have to work towards, with everything else merely laying the foundation for it."

Weiss nodded, having heard the same thing from Winter back at Beacon Academy. Whitley remained silent as he focused his attention entirely onto his mother, with the occasional glance towards the viewing rooms which looked like the private booths at Amity Colosseum. He could see Weiss' friends standing in one, with a few of the Justice League's so-called superheroes standing with them. To his intense displeasure, Damian Wayne was there as well, looking down at him smugly. He barely fought back a growl, then returned his attention to his mother who had shifted her claymore off of her shoulder and was now aiming it forward.

"As both of you know, Summoning allows us to create Aura constructs of foes we have defeated," Willow explained, forming a massive glyph from which a white Solitas Beowolf emerged. It idly moved like the real thing, but made no move to attack as Willow walked over and ran her hand over its head.

"But not just any enemy can be summoned," she continued. "We can only summon foes from encounters that we have formed a significant emotional connection with. This Beowolf, for instance, was the first Grimm I ever killed when I embarked on a hunting trip with my father. I've killed dozens of Beowolves since then, but any that I summon are simply variations of this one."

"Ah, I see," Weiss muttered, already having an idea of specific Grimm that she could possibly summon. She then asked, "Do the summons have to be Grimm, or can they be something else?"

"As far as I know, it's never been anything but Grimm," Willow admitted, "but seeing as how we're currently in a space station orbiting another planet, I suppose it is possible."

"Forgive me if I find the idea of killing someone and summoning their corpse mildly disturbing," Whitley sarcastically remarked, causing both his mother and sister to wince.

"Anyway, let's get started," Willow announced. Both of her children nodded then aimed their weapons in front of them, making sure to not actually point them towards each other or their mother. Willow nodded then continued, "The key to successfully summoning is to focus on the emotion of the encounter, how it made you feel in the moment and since, not on what you want to create."

Weiss nodded in agreement, then scrunched up her face in concentration. Letting out a small grunt, she created a glyph on the ground, trying to force a construct to appear. Her mind reached out over her memories, trying to focus on the battles that meant the most to her. She already had several in mind. The 'test' her father forced her to go through against the Arma Gigas in order to go to Beacon came to mind immediately, followed by the fight against the Giant Nevermore in the Emerald Forest, the very first Grimm she and her team ever killed. The Boarbatusk she vanquished in Port's classroom also came to mind, not because of the fight itself but how it directly led towards her and Ruby's reconciliation and truly becoming partners.

They and many more battles came to mind, on Remnant and on Earth. But, to her displeasure, she was finding it hard to narrow it down to just one. Nothing seemed to work, and the glyph barely budged. Sometimes a tiny construct would begin to appear, but it would immediately dissipate before she could figure out what she was trying to make. It was intensely frustrating, and finally after a few moments she released a heavy breath and her concentration.

"Damn it," Weiss muttered as the glyph disappeared.

"It's okay, Weiss," Willow told her. "It took me some time to get it working as well. You'll get the hang of it, and once you do summoning will become second nature."

Weiss nodded at her mother, knowing that she was correct. After all, Winter had gone through the exact same struggle and now she was better at summoning than any of them. Granted, their mother was out of practice for years until Brainiac forced her, but the point still stood.

"Okay, then. Whitley, how are—" Willow began as she turned towards her son, only to pause when she noticed the state of Whitley's summoning glyph. "Oh my…"

Weiss turned to look as well, and to her surprise saw that her brother's efforts were substantially better than her own. Well, in a sense. The glyph itself was even more unsteady and fragile looking than her own first attempts in the early days of her training, the snowflake jittering like the tics of a clock instead of spinning smoothly, and the glow of it dimming sporadically. Despite that, it billowed forth a ghostly fog, which was already coalescing into a seemingly humanoid silhouette before their very eyes. Whitley's eyes were completely closed, his face scrunched up in deep concentration. Weiss' eyes widened and her jaw hung loose, but she quickly regained her composure. She moved to encourage her younger brother, but Willow silenced her with a quick hush. It wasn't hard to realize why. The last thing Whitley needed was to be distracted at this crucial moment.

Compared to Willow's summoning, Whitley's efforts were much slower and more gradual. Which was only to be expected, given how it was his first time ever doing this. Weiss was simply surprised that he was able to do so at all. Whatever he was summoning, it clearly had an intense emotional connection to him, but for the life of her Weiss couldn't figure out what. As the seconds ticked by, more and more of the summoned construct appeared, and before long they were able to figure out just what, exactly, Whitley was creating.

Weiss and Willow's eyes widened in realization, with Weiss covering her mouth to stifle a gasp. She moved to warn her younger brother, but by the time the words began to leave her throat, Whitley's construct was finished. He opened his eyes, at first proud to accomplish something which Weiss, who had years of training and experience over him, had been unable to. But that feeling was immediately replaced with shock and terror as he stared into the glowing eyes of a Brainiac Drone.

"AAGH!" Whitley screamed, falling back onto the ground while brandishing his pole to ward off attack, even as the white machine's faceplate silently turned to follow him. As he crawled away in a clear panic, he lost concentration on his summon and it dissipated from where it was still standing at attention. Both Willow and Weiss were on him immediately, with Willow comfortingly scooping him up into her arms.

"Whitley, it's okay. It's not real, just breathe. Breathe," Willow gently cooed to her terrified son, who was shaking in her arms. Weiss just stood there, not knowing what to do as she rapidly shifted her eyes between her brother, her mother, and her concerned friends looking at them from up high.

Finally, after a few moments, she lowered herself to her knee next to Whitley and gently placed her hand on his head, saying, "It's okay, Whitley. We're here."

Whitley continued to shiver from his PTSD-induced panic attack, but he seemed to appreciate the presence of his family. As he slowly began to calm down, she looked towards her mother and declared, "I think we're done for today."

Willow nodded in agreement, but before she could say anything else, Whitley cut in and said, "No! No, I'm…I'm fine. Let's keep going."

Both Schnee women looked at Whitley in surprise, particularly when he tore himself from their grasp. He was still shaking but was visibly trying to calm himself. Willow and Weiss glanced at each other, then they nodded.

"Alright, let's…shift gears for a moment and focus on other applications of glyphs," Willow announced, and as both Schnee children followed their mother's instruction, all three thought back to the events that brought them here in the first place and knew that, no matter what happened next, they would get through it together.

---

Lex Island

Atlantic Ocean, 50 nautical miles off Eastern Seaboard

2:00 PM (Eastern Standard Time)

"All systems powering up. Mother Box connection forming. ETA: two minutes," the lab technician announced as he and others worked on their consoles. Various beeps could be heard as they typed in various formulas and coordinates, all working in concert to ensure that both a Boom Tube would be made to the proper location in deep space as well as masking its signature from any prying eyes. So far their efforts to disguise their theft of the Mother Box had worked, but Lex had no delusions of believing that would last forever. They only had so much time to work with the alien supercomputer, and he was determined to get as much of it out as possible.

"As soon as Salem and her cohorts arrive, I want them escorted to their private quarters," Lex ordered to the security team he had assembled. "Then have Reinhardt, Watts, and Callows brought to the medical bay for a full evaluation. I can only imagine how much they need it."

"Of course, Mr. Luthor," the team's leader replied, chambering a round into his weapon at the same time. Lex nodded then returned his attention to the still forming Boom Tube, which by now had generated enough energy to cause a noticeable warp in the air.

"Lex, a word," Deathstroke spoke up, a slight twinge of unease creeping into his voice.

"Speak your mind, Wilson," Lex said, folding his arms behind his back after straightening his dark-purple suit.

"I'm still certain this is a horrible idea," Deathstroke announced, prompting Mercy to nod in agreement.

"I concur," she added, bringing her arms and tablet closer to her chest. "She is undoubtedly trying to play you to suit her own agenda."

"I'm well aware of what she is trying to do," Lex replied, not once looking at either of his subordinates. "How could I not? After all, Salem by all accounts appears to be the oldest immortal being we've ever come across. Older than Vandal Savage, even, and during that entire time she has been plotting behind the shadows, honing her craft, all to bring down her homeworld's civilization. If she wasn't trying to manipulate me, I'd be insulted."

"Then, if you know that she's trying to manipulate you, why bring her here at all? If it were up to me, I'd launch the nuke and be done with it," Deathstroke suggested, and Lex nodded in acknowledgment.

"An understandable course of action, one I myself was seriously tempted to do upon our departure from Monstra," Lex admitted. "But one does not become a successful businessman without being able to effortlessly perform a cost-benefit analysis when needed, then create a strategy to see those benefits come to fruition."

"And those benefits are?"

"Despite all of the work and success we have done with the Grimm, control and manipulation remains far out of our grasp," Lex announced. "In just a few minutes, Salem's complete control over the Grimm's form and direction was made clear. By studying how she is able to manipulate the Grimm as she does, we can learn to replicate it.

"But, I do admit, it is very well possible that we are unable to replicate her methods," Lex admitted. "Magic, by its very nature, is fickle and doesn't play well with mundane laws of nature. We've been working to try and understand magic for years, with little success. Luckily, Salem offers something much more tangible and easily attainable than Grimm manipulation: Dust."

"Sure, I understand that. Especially with the Dust, even if I think the Grimm are starting to be more trouble than they are worth," Deathstroke replied as he checked his weapons as well. "But that's the problem. You just said that Salem is a master manipulator with complete control over the Grimm. There's already been several incidents around the world where we nearly lost control. If we bring Salem into the mix, the risk of us losing it completely rises exponentially. In fact, if she's given enough time, I'd say it becomes almost certain."

"Which is why it's best to make her assume she has the upper hand for as long as possible," Lex agreed, causing Deathstroke to raise his eyebrow.

"I don't follow," he admitted, and Lex nodded patronizingly.

"Allow me to explain," Lex began. "Over the past few decades, ever since Superman entered the picture, I have dealt with many immortals. Almost every single one of them have the exact same flaw. They believe that, because they are so old, they have seen and experienced everything life has to offer. This makes them falsely believe that they cannot be manipulated or surprised. Vandal Savage and R'as al Ghul are among the few who are mostly able to keep their arrogance in check, hence why it's easier to work with them, but even they fall prey to their own hubris."

"And you believe Salem has that same weakness?"

"Absolutely. In fact, it's worse for her because now she's being thrown into an alien environment, from her perspective," Lex announced. "Salem, by her own admission, spent millennia manipulating the people of Remnant, only really opposed by a single person. But Earth is not her playground, it is mine. She does not know the rules or players, both of which I have ample experience in. Given enough time, I'm certain she'll be able to adapt, but if we make her believe that she has the advantage right out the gate, or at the very least can use me as a puppet, she'll rest on her laurels longer than she would otherwise."

Mercy pursed her lips, then said, "That's why you made it a contract."

Lex nodded in confirmation, saying, "We all know Salem will value that contract as much as the piece of paper it's printed on and nothing more. But she clearly just saw me as yet another arrogant businessman, someone I'm certain she's been able to lead by the nose before on Remnant with ease. She does not see me as an actual player in Earth's game, and that underestimation will be her undoing. By the time she realizes her mistake, or moves to betray me, it'll be too late."

"If she's so good at reading people, wouldn't she realize that you know she's going to betray her?"

"Quite possibly, but does she know that I know she knows I know she's going to betray me?"

Deathstroke paused for a moment and tilted his head, then dryly asked, "Do you find amusement in this?"

"In a morbid sort of way, yes," Lex answered, and Deathstroke sighed while shaking his head.

He still thought this was a horrible idea that was going to backfire, but he wasn't getting paid to make the decisions. He was lucky Lex considered his input valuable at all. Most employers wouldn't have listened to what he had to say. Granted, most of them were fools who didn't last long after his contract with them ended, but the point still stood. If Lex believed he still had control over the situation, it was Deathstroke's job to ensure that it remained that way. Even still, he was going to keep his blade sharp, and his guns chambered for the inevitable.

Soon everyone's thoughts were broken as the Boom Tube fully materialized. A pulsating wave of white gridlines emerged from the center, forming a large circle big enough for several people to walk through. At first, none did and the security officers nervously readied their weapons in case Salem was attempting to assault them immediately. But, after a few moments, Salem and her subordinates calmly walked through. Hazel was pulling a large, wheeled crate behind him, as well as carrying another atop his shoulder like it was nothing. Watts, in contrast, was simply carrying large briefcases, with Tyrian eyeing everyone openly like a potential target.

They undoubtedly all were, Lex knew, but this was likely their strategy. By allowing the openly hostile Tyrian to draw everyone's attention, they wouldn't notice the others doing the same thing. But Lex didn't mention that that, and neither did Mercy nor Deathstroke. They all knew the game they were playing, and for the moment it was best to just keep up the act.

"Welcome to my island, Salem," Lex announced. "Apologies we were unable to bring over Monstra, but a Grimm that large going through the Boom Tube wouldn't escape notice. I believe I already have a solution to the problem, but we can go over it later."

"Hello, Lex, and don't worry. I understand completely," Salem calmly greeted him with a fake smile on her face. "As promised, we have gathered all the Dust samples we had on hand. I was able to use my magic to ensure that it was properly contained, although I regret to inform you that we lost a few samples during experimentation."

To prove her words, Watts turned the briefcase towards Lex and opened it, displaying an assortment of large, cut crystals in several different shades for everyone to see. The scientists craned their necks, trying to get a better look at the exotic substance while Lex simply stared stoically. He studied them from afar for a moment, then nonchalantly grabbed one of them in his hand. Immediately he could feel the power radiating from the red gemstone, a warmth seeping into his fingers and throughout his body.

"Splendid," Lex announced, carefully placing the Dust crystal back into its slot. As Watts closed the briefcase, Mercy walked over and handed Salem a thick pile of papers. Salem immediately took them and began to read, with Lex saying, "Here is the contract my people and I worked over. Feel free to read over the terms and conditions, and I'm certain you'll find them to be quite equitable."

Salem fought back the urge to laugh, but couldn't resist giving the arrogant businessman a ghostly smile as she replied, "Thank you, Lex. Your generosity is much appreciated."

"As it should be," Lex replied, letting his natural attitude come to the forefront. Waving his arm towards his security team, he announced, "We've taken the liberty of assigning personal quarters to you and your servants. In addition, I must insist on giving your mortal companions a proper medical examination. We can't have them falling over from some unnoticed ailment."

"I assure you, they are in perfect health," Salem insisted, "but I see no harm in doing so."

Lex nodded in agreement, then gestured for his security team to escort them out of the room. The mercenaries nodded, with the leader telling Salem, Tyrian, Watts and Hazel to follow them. As they walked away, Watts handed his briefcase to the nearest scientist while Hazel deposited the box of Dust gently onto the floor, telling the technicians to handle them carefully. Lex watched them go, then immediately went towards the security room to watch them further.

"Move the Dust samples to the lab. I want study to begin immediately," Lex ordered, and the scientists, engineers, and technicians sounded off in acknowledgement as the Boom Tube flickered out of existence.

---

For Salem and her men, the walk down the hallways towards whatever quarters Lex had set up for them was quite dull. No one was speaking to them, trying their best to maintain an air of professionalism. Every few feet they passed by another officer either on patrol or simply standing guard at an intersection. It was an attempt to intimidate them, Salem knew, but one that was childish at best. She could easily see the fear and nervousness in their eyes, most of it directed at her. Salem welcomed this, allowing the air of dread and mystery to fester.

At the same time, they did pass by a few windows. She could see that they were surrounded by a thick forest, with a large, snowcapped mountain overshadowing everything. Various species of animals could be seen, from birds and insects to deer and wolves. Everything was immaculate, the telltale sign that this entire place was manmade. Somehow that suited what she knew of Lex so far perfectly, but she had to admit he had good tastes.

Soon they arrived at their quarters, with the soldiers escorting them inside before leaving them be. Salem and her subordinates took a moment to look around, finding that each had been given their own isolated room complete with bed, restroom, a change of clothes in their size, as well as a window to the outside world. There were also, she knew, bugs and cameras already planted all around them, watching them and listening in at that very moment. Normally Salem would've already flushed them out, but she would leave them be for the time being. Getting rid of them now would be far too suspicious.

"Watts, Hazel," Salem began, "once Lex's doctors have finished looking you over, I want you to begin researching this world. Its people, cultures, languages, history, everything. If we are to adapt to this new land, we need to understand everything about it. I'm certain Lex's people would be more than accommodating, so feel free to use them as a resource if they allow it."

"Of course, ma'am," Hazel respectfully replied, with Watts nodding in agreement. From the way their eyes were glancing around, they too recognized that Lex was listening in as they spoke, so they chose their words and actions carefully.

"What shall I do, my Lady?" Tyrian asked, reverence seeping into his voice.

"I'm curious about this island that we are on," Salem told her most fanatical follower. "When you are able, I'd like you to explore, find the best locations the island has to offer, then show them to me later."

"It would be my pleasure," Tyrian reverently declared, bowing his head in deference. Salem nodded gratefully, then turned towards the room assigned to her.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Salem announced, turning to walk away and into her room.

She closed the door behind her with a quick application of magic. Standing before her bed, Salem found the room itself to be quite plain in appearance. The walls were a pasty, clean white, with only a few fluorescent lights embedded into the ceiling above. Otherwise, the only source of illumination came from the window located on the wall opposite her bed, which had automatic blinds installed. There wasn't even a fan, merely the gentle hum of the air conditioning. The bed itself was queen sized, neatly made but otherwise nothing to really boast about.

"Hmm, was never one for grandiose vanity anyway," Salem admitted to herself, seeing no issue with her present accommodations. It wasn't as though she actually needed to sleep in the first place, and if anything she would've felt that Lex giving her all the luxuries in the world was his attempt at buttering her up. Seeing as he didn't, Salem took that to mean he still felt he was in control over the situation and was attempting to flex his might over hers. A foolish delusion, one she was content to let him believe in until the time was right.

She walked over to the window, stopping just before it to see everything the view had to offer. More of the island was now visible to her, including a long, winding river that had a ravine formed around it. There were several different environments spread out across the land, all merging together as naturally as possible, yet in a way that made it clear that the arrangement was anything but. Somehow Lex managed to get a tropical jungle grown on the southern coastline, and beyond the shadow of the small mountain range running across the island was a desert. Salem had to admit, she was somewhat impressed, even if she was never truly one to marvel at nature. After so many years, it all just blended together.

"Marvelous, isn't it? This monument to man's vanity and excess," someone suddenly spoke up, causing Salem to immediately whip around with a spell in hand. To her surprise, there was a lone man who hadn't been there before, wearing what appeared to be a military dress uniform, completely black in color with only a few gold medals adorned on his chest. Stars befitting a general could be seen on his shoulders, but Salem could immediately sense that this was no mere general.

In fact, she didn't think he was human at all, and her hackles instinctively rose.

"Get. Out," she hissed at the supernatural entity standing before her, who merely chuckled in amusement.

"Ah, I see you are familiar with divine beings. Given your…present status, I can't say I'm surprised," the general replied, then smiled and pressed his hand against his chest while giving a slight, almost respectful bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ares, the Greek God of War. You may also call me Mars if you wish. That's simply the name the Romans gave me."

Salem merely responded by firing an intense lightning bolt at Ares' head, which merely passed through the god harmlessly like a wispy cloud. He chuckled in amusement before saying, "Cute, but compared to what my father can do, that was a mere spark. You can't hurt me, Salem, so don't bother trying."

Salem growled and prepared to strike again with a different type of spell, fully willing to cycle through her repertoire until something stuck, only for Ares to calmly raise his hand placatingly and say, "Relax, I'm not here to fight. If what I sensed and overheard about you is accurate, I doubt there's anything we really can do against each other, anyway. So, really, what's the point in fighting?"

The Grimm Queen glared at the supposed God of War for a moment, her nostrils flaring with barely contained rage. After a few moments, she finally managed to regain her composure, and with obvious displeasure in her voice she asked, "Then, pray tell, why are you here?"

"I wanted to thank you in person, honestly, as well as help you acclimate to our lovely planet," Ares answered, causing Salem to blink in befuddlement. Smiling gratefully, Ares continued, "After all, your Grimm have been monumentally useful to my goals. And don't worry, Lex can't hear us at all for the moment, so speak freely."

Salem pursed her lips, then asked, "And those goals would be?"

"Same as yours, culling humanity," Ares confirmed, and Salem raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "The Grimm have been quite perfect in that regard. Exclusively targeting human beings without damaging the wider environment, I couldn't have even imagined a more perfect weapon to use against them."

"Why would a God of War care about the environment?" Salem asked, glancing towards the door wondering why her compatriots hadn't noticed their conversation.

"I am far more than that, I assure you. All Gods are."

Salem rolled her eyes and scoffed, saying, "Gods are petty and arrogant beings—"

"Who look down on everyone, yes. I am well aware and in complete agreement," Ares interrupted Salem, much to her surprise. "Believe me, my fellow Gods and Goddesses in Mount Olympus are some of the pettiest and most vain beings I've ever had the displeasure of being around. Most of the other pantheons aren't that much better. So full of themselves and certain of their superiority over the mortals they ruled over, deluding themselves into believing that they created humanity and not the other way around. And let's not even start on what happens when a mortal angers a god, intentionally or otherwise. The amount of lives my mother alone has ruined just because my father couldn't keep his urges in check would astound you."

"…Pantheons?" Salem softly asked, which Ares smiled at.

"Yes, pantheons. One of the reasons why I wanted to stop by," Ares confirmed. "You see, Salem, Earth is not like Remnant, and one of the many ways it differs is the nature of gods. I'm assuming, based on your reaction, that a singular pantheon of gods created your humanity on Remnant?"

"…That is correct, unfortunately," Salem admitted, and Ares nodded.

"I thought as much. That isn't the case here. On Earth, the gods were created by the collective belief of humanity attempting to explain the natural and unnatural world around them. Through that belief, they gained the very powers and domains that humanity prescribed to them. This happened for the ancient Greeks, where I hailed from, the ancient Norse, Egypt, and every other religion across history. It still happens now."

"Why are you telling me this?" Salem asked, suspicion readily shown on her face.

"Because I'm not just the God of War. I prefer to think of myself as the God of Truth, and I wish to advise you so that you may succeed in your goal," Ares answered, walking around the bed as Salem's eyes never left him.

"The death of humanity was merely a means to an end," Salem told him, and Ares nodded in understanding.

"Regardless of your true reasons, it still suits mine perfectly."

"If you honestly think I'm going to work for you—"

"Of course not. Why would I bother when you're going to do it anyway of your own free will regardless of what I tell you?" Ares rhetorically asked. His smile grew somewhat wicked, and he took a half step towards Salem while folding his arms behind his back. "You see, Salem, you still believe that you are the most powerful person in the world, much like you were on Remnant. I assure you that you are not. There are beings here and elsewhere vastly more powerful than you can ever be."

This, coming from a self-proclaimed 'God of War' who'd already admitted his inability to kill her or wipe out humanity himself? Salem scowled at the posturing spirit, magic crackling around her, and she hissed, "And you're here to show me that?"

"Not at all. I have no intention of harming you. After all, I'm a fan of your work," Ares admitted with a nonchalant shrug, then pointed behind her. "Him, on the other hand?"

Before Salem could react, she felt a sudden, sharp, intense pain in her chest. She stood there twitching in agony for a few moments, unable to comprehend what was happening before she shakily tilted her head down to see what was going on. There she found an arm embedded through her ribcage, tightly clasping her heart and squeezing it to stifle its beating. She soon shifted her head back up, and she no longer saw Ares. Instead, she found herself staring into the blank, pupilless eyes of a man whose skin was as white as chalk. The only clothes he was wearing was a green cloak wrapped around his shoulders and tights that exposed his bare legs alongside a pair of green gloves and boots. He was glaring right into her soul, and Salem found herself unable to move.

The mysterious figure's grasp on her heart tightened again, and soon Salem felt an intense heat shooting through her being. Large cracks began to appear through her ashen skin, and while she felt the need to scream in agony, she found herself unable to. More than anything else in her long life, Salem felt as though this was actually killing her. But rather than the satisfaction and peace that notion should have granted her, as the cracks spread across more and more of her body from the all-consuming wrath scorching her down to her soul, all she found was a primal dread she'd all but forgotten.

But soon the cracks stopped, and the mysterious figure simply held her there at the cusp of damnation while looking upon her with dissatisfaction. His scowl deepened, then without making a sound he violently ripped the heart out of Salem's chest. She fell to her knees onto the ground, gurgling as black ichor spilled onto the floor and down the man's clenched fist. Soon the heart turned into mist, a new one forming in Salem's chest which slowly repaired itself from the damage along with the fissures in her chest, but the ichor remained.

"It is not my role to end your evil here, as you deserve," the man-shaped thing finally spoke, his words impossible to ignore, "For now, this is but a taste of the judgement that awaits you, when your time comes."

With that, the man disappeared, and Salem was simply left on the ground breathing heavily. She was clenching her chest, feeling a scar fade away. Her surprise slowly turned into rage, and she stumbled up onto her feet before making her way towards her door. She caught herself before she could barge through it, breathing heavily to compose herself and hide any sign of pain or weakness behind a mask of imperious anger, then proceeding.

As soon as she opened it and glided out, Tyrian quickly noticed her and turned around welcome her, "Ah, my Lady. We were just about to… My Lady, are you alright?!"

Tyrian came to attention as soon as he noticed the scorched and torn state of her dress. Hazel and Watts, who were surprisingly also there, hurried over as well.

"What happened? You were only in there for a minute, and we didn't hear anything!" Watts announced, causing Salem to look up at the scientist in surprise.

"A minute?" she muttered to herself, knowing that her encounter with Ares and whoever that man was went on much longer. She quickly shook her head, then growled, "I need to speak to Lex. Now."

---

Luckily for all of them, Lex's doctors arrived for their checkup of Tyrian, Watts, and Hazel not too long after. All it took was a word from Salem for them to bring her along as well. Soon all three were sitting in the medical room, with Lex standing before all of them as Salem explained her encounter.

"Why am I not surprised that Ares showed up?" Lex muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in front of the Remnantians.

"I'm not concerned about Ares," Salem growled, clenching her fist in her black dress. "Who was the man that attacked me?"

Lex paused in his pacing to turn around and face them, lightly pinching his chin as the gravity of the situation took hold.

"If what you're saying is true," Lex began to explain, "the person who attacked you was the Spectre."

"The Spectre?" Watts asked, leaning forward with a frown on his face.

"My research tells me that his real name was Jim Corrigan, a police detective in Gotham City who was murdered in 1941 by crime-boss Gat Benson. He was beaten and shot, then his body was put into cement and thrown into the Gotham River," Lex clarified. "Rather than passing into the afterlife, his spirit was chosen by the Presence to serve as his Angel of Vengeance, a role he has been dutifully serving ever since."

"What is the Presence?" Hazel asked, and Lex's frown deepened.

"The Abrahamic God, the most powerful divine being on the planet, if not the universe. At least that's the Presence's closest approximation that we can hope to understand. The Presence is…different than all the other gods and goddesses of every pantheon, and far more ancient and powerful," Lex revealed as he began to pace again.

"The Spectre," he continued, growing more and more agitated with each passing word, "along with his counterpart the Phantom Stranger, serve as His direct agents on the world, fulfilling His will. For Corrigan, that's punishing sinners, a task he has been empowered beyond any reasonable measure to carry out. Reality warping and unfathomable strength, he is essentially omniscient and omnipotent. I'd dare say that the Spectre, even more so than Superman, is truly the most powerful 'superhero' on the planet. One who does not share the same standard of restraint as most heroes. If anything, he prefers to kill his targets."

The Remnantians glanced at each other, then Hazel pointed out, "There's a lot of sinners in the world. If the Spectre is so powerful, why doesn't he kill everyone who's ever sinned?"

"Because he is kept on a very, very, very tight leash for that exact reason. If he was allowed to operate as he pleased, the death count would be astronomical," Lex immediately answered. "The fact that the Presence allowed the Spectre to confront you at all is very telling, although I suspect it was mostly just a test."

"That was a test?!" Tyrian screeched in outrage, and Lex nodded.

"Yes. He's at least made it clear that he has his sights set on you, but he's kept from actually doing anything permanent? Probably some 'divine plan' nonsense. In any case, we are lucky that the Spectre is so constrained. Most of the time he punishes sinners after they die, but still gives them the chance to 'redeem' themselves if they choose to do so. Free will and all," Lex revealed with an audible scoff. "If anything, his existence only further proves my point that superheroes are dangerous and need to be eliminated, or at the very least controlled."

He turned to look at the Remnantians and added, "Did you know that, a few years back, there was a man in New York who was about to be put onto death row. This man was innocent of the crime he had been convicted of but the evidence, flawed as it was, indicated otherwise. Before his execution could go through, the Spectre appeared and demanded he be spared and exonerated. He threatened that, should the execution of an innocent man go through, he would punish every single person involved in his murder. Given how New York has a democratic government, he meant the entire population of the state."

Hazel narrowed his eyes at Lex and asked, "How many people live in New York?"

"Just over twenty million," Lex answered, "and the worst part is that everyone took his threat seriously because they knew he could back it up. He could have killed every single person in New York and there wouldn't be a damn thing we could do to stop him."

Everyone stood there in silence, Hazel widening his eyes at the horrific possibility put before him. Salem stewed in her rage alongside Tyrian, while Watts remained composed, if more than a little worried. Lex stared at them all, then scowled before looking away.

"I'll increase the anti-magical barriers around the island. Hopefully that'll keep any more uninvited guests away," Lex announced, then turned around and walked out of the lab, leaving the others to stew and ruminate over what just happened

For Salem, as much as she hated to admit it, the entire episode was more than enough evidence to support Ares' claims. In the back of her mind, she already knew she couldn't just assume that she could maintain her previous position on Remnant here on Earth, but now she couldn't deny it any longer. She could not expect to be top dog anymore, and assuming otherwise would be her undoing.

---

January 3rd, Year 2

Bottled City of Vale

1:38 PM (Local Time)

"My brothers and sisters! My fellow man, I come to you all bearing the truth!" the preacher exclaimed atop his makeshift podium made of discarded wooden boxes. He was wearing a long robe, one that probably used to be white but now was stained a light and splotchy beige from all the dirt and grime of the past few months. In his hand was a black, leatherbound book with the sign of the Two Brothers proudly displayed on the front. Behind him, serving as a backdrop, was the dilapidated and abandoned remains of a church, with a few paper signs nailed to the wall by the man himself.

"It is a truth that you will not like to hear, but it is the truth nonetheless!" the preacher continued, pacing back and forth on his podium while practically yelling at the top of his lungs, trying to catch the attention of any passerby in the surrounding marketplace. "For you see, Remnant's destruction was not just the act of a genocidal alien. No, it served a divine purpose. Indeed, divine punishment! Brainiac was sent to Remnant by the Two Brothers themselves to punish mankind for our transgressions against them and their will."

The few who were intently listening nodded in acceptance, prompting the preacher to declare, "The Brothers' design called for humanity to be pure and peaceful, neither of which we were before Brainiac arrived. What is the root cause of this imperfection, you might ask? I have pondered this very question for years, and in that time I have come to find an answer. The root cause of all of humanity's problems is the same as it always has been: the faunus."

His small group of listeners continued nodding their heads in agreement, but they were quickly drowned out by the much larger group of protesters who, as they had done every time the man took to the podium to speak, shouted back in rage.

"Screw you, man!" one wolf faunus with a tail retorted.

"Get outta here, you racist piece of shit!" a human woman added, joining a chorus of boos and jeers that were all aimed squarely at the militant preacher who, rather than be taken aback by the overwhelmingly negative response, merely gestured to the crowd as though they were proving his point.

"Do you see what I mean?" the preacher rhetorically said. "The faunus have corrupted the minds and souls of our fellow men, convincing them that they are 'equals' when they are anything but. Is it coincidence that Brainiac arrived after the faunus were given rights equal to our own? I say it is not. They are nothing more than animals, and our decision to treat them as anything but has invited our gods' wrath."

He continued to preach, ignoring and dismissing the angry responses he was getting from the people nearby. Luckily most people currently using the marketplace couldn't really hear or see him, as he was confined to an area specifically set aside for public speaking or live entertainment. Only those directly there could actually understand what he was saying, and the number of people opposing his views outnumbered his supporters ten to one. Everyone else was simply minding their own business, bartering goods and services at one of many stalls laid out on what used to be the sidewalk.

"Remind me again why we're here?" Neptune dryly asked as he, the rest of team SSSN, and team CFVY continued to watch the militant preacher from a safe distance, their weapons within arm's reach just in case they needed it.

"Because this idiot," Sun answered while gesturing forward with his tail, "has been spewing his crap about how faunus like me and Velvet were the real reason why Remnant got destroyed for weeks."

"I know that, but what I don't understand is why we have to listen to this," Neptune pointed out, barely able to suppress his anger as the preacher made a particularly nasty comment about how unclean mixed-race children were. Particularly since he was standing right next to an extremely tense Velvet, whose father was human.

"I agree with Neptune," Fox added. "If it were up to me, I'd go up and break his jaw to keep his damn mouth shut."

"I hear that," Coco darkly muttered, hiding her glaring eyes behind her dark sunglasses.

"Normally, I would agree with you. Or, at the very least, stay the hell away from him," Sun admitted. "But there is a bigger issue at play here, remember?"

"Sun is correct," Yatsuhashi concurred with a quick nod, his eyes scanning the crowd. "This preacher has made himself an obvious target of assassination by Adam's Red Fang."

At the mention of Vale's Most Wanted, the group of Huntsmen and Huntresses-in-Training let out a simultaneous groan. Scarlet then said, "Uggh, don't remind me. I can't believe we have to play security detail for this racist piece of crap."

Several of the students lowered their heads and sighed, with Sun forcing himself to keep his attention on the man they were supposed to be protecting. An attempt on his life hadn't been made yet, but if they knew anything about Adam Taurus then he wouldn't let this slide. Several others who had or supposedly had made similar claims had all been attacked, maimed, or outright killed. Either by Adam himself or by one of his Red Fang operators.

The Red Fang were what Adam's followers called themselves now. Unlike Vale's White Fang, who had largely abandoned their militarism in place of attempting to integrate peacefully into the new normal Vale found themselves in, the Red Fang declared any faunus not following their banner traitors. They continued to wear the Grimm masks, kept their crimson red logo while the White Fang brought back their original white and blue symbol, and attacked anyone they accused of being against the faunus. The vast majority of the time they were just acting out of spite against humanity, but on the rare occasions when someone was actually targeting faunus specifically, they liked to make an example of them. Such as the preacher that teams SSSN and CFVY were watching over right now.

It wasn't a plan any of them came up with. In fact, they honestly wouldn't really mind if Adam took this guy out, a feeling that was only reinforced after a few minutes of watching him speak. Many of the other teams, even CRDL of all people, came to that same conclusion when their shift came up. No, the real architect of the plan was Professor Ozpin. The hope was that they could intercept Adam's would-be assassin during the attempt, capture then bring them back to Beacon for interrogation, then find the location of Adam's hideout. After that, a team would be assembled to finally bring the murderer to justice.

The easy part was putting people in place to keep an eye on the guy. He showed up at the same spot every day at the exact same time. They all knew where he was. The hard part was discerning Adam's man from everyone else.

"What about that guy?" Velvet suggested, eyeing a deer faunus with a pair of antlers on his head who was glaring holes into the preacher.

"No, he's not doing anything. Plus his clothes are too tight, can't really hide anything in them," Coco dismissed, her eyes scanning over everyone in the immediate vicinity. Thanks to her sunglasses, along with years of practice, no one could tell who she was actually looking at.

Yatsuhashi, towering over everyone, stared into the angry crowd. He saw a woman holding something in her hand and prepared to call her out as she threw it, but then stopped when the object splattered against the man's robes harmlessly.

"Nevermind, she's just throwing rotten fruit at him," he declared, with the preacher wiping away the remains with his hand while pointing at her and adding her outburst to his preaching with effortless ease.

"Gods, someone needs to shut this guy up. He's getting on my nerves," Neptune hissed, his face clenched into a deep scowl.

"Neptune does have a point," Velvet spoke up. "Not just because of the racism thing, but the longer he keeps talking like this, the more likely it is for him to be killed. I don't like the guy, like at all, but I don't want him murdered. Maybe one of us should go talk to him, explain the situation and try to get him to calm down?"

"I'm not going up there," Fox immediately said while holding up his hands. "If you think what he's saying is bad, I don't even want to think about what he's thinking and neither do you."

The others nodded, immediately agreeing with the telepath's assessment. Sun then added, "Velvet and I shouldn't talk to him, either. That won't go well."

The remaining humans of the group all groaned and hung their heads, then Coco dejectedly mumbled, "Alright, let's draw straws."

The ever-prepared Yatsuhashi pulled several straws out of his knapsack, and held his hand out in front of him. Coco, Neptune, Scarlet, Sage, and finally Yatsuhashi himself grabbed one straw each, then held their individual straws forward for everyone to see.

"Dammit!" Coco hissed upon realizing that she drew the short straw. Releasing another sigh, she handed it back to Yatsuhashi then started walking towards the preacher, saying, "I'm going to go talk to the guy. Pray for me."

"I will," Velvet immediately responded, a hint of both sympathy and sarcasm in her voice, and Coco snapped her fingers approvingly towards her teammate without looking over her shoulder.

The others stood there and watched as Coco weaved her way through the crowd, eventually managing to get face to face with the preacher. They were too far away for teams SSSN and CFVY to hear what Coco and the preacher were saying to each other, except for Velvet who kept her face flat and unreadable while hearing every word. Their conversation lasted for a few minutes, causing the teams to briefly believe that Coco had somehow gotten through to him. But, as she all-too-calmly turned to stomp back towards them and the man immediately started going on about how the Vale elites were plotting to replace humans with faunus, they knew her efforts were in vain.

"How bad?" Sage asked as Coco angrily plopped herself back down.

"Turns out the guy's both a racist and a sexist. Probably a homophobe, too," Coco answered, crossing her arms over her chest while glaring daggers at the preacher. "What a winning combination, am I right?"

The other students groaned, with Scarlet muttering, "Just perfect…"

"Be strong, Scarlet. Be strong," Sun soothed his teammate, but from how the young man simply hung his head and scowled even deeper, it didn't seem to work.

They continued to watch the zealous preacher from afar, trying their best to ignore what he was saying in favor of focusing on the crowd. It proved harder than they would have liked, particularly when the man started yelling louder over the crowd using a homemade megaphone.

"Send me your denunciations, for I do not care!" the preacher proclaimed, spreading his free arm wide to emphasize his foul point. "The torment our people have faced these past few months, more so than any other time in our history, isn't anything less than divine retribution!"

The boos of the crowd increased with their agitation. More and more people who had been unwittingly dragged into the fray were adding to the chorus, several throwing small objects and rotten food at the bigoted man and his followers. Velvet couldn't help but briefly focus her attention on them, and she found her opinions somewhat mixed. On the one hand, seeing so many people, humans and faunus, being united against the bigotry and discrimination that the preacher was advocating for was a good thing. There was a time only mere decades before that it would have been the exact opposite.

But, on the other hand, the fact that there were still people willing to listen and agree with him was concerning. Sure, it was only a handful in this case, but sometimes that was all that was needed to cause real harm. All it would take was just one man with an anti-faunus agenda, whose feelings were allowed to fester unobstructed or even helped along by outside actors, to act upon those feelings. A lot of innocent people, human and faunus, had been hurt or even killed because of people like them, and Velvet hoped that nothing would come of this.

She took her attention away from the followers and returned to scanning the crowd. She was focusing on the faunus, as it was essentially impossible that Adam or the Red Fang would employ a human assassin. All of them were furious, their anger rising with every moment, but the majority didn't seem to be actual threats. Most were simply leaving in disgust, while others were either stewing silently in their anger or shouting back with derogatory insults of their own. A few were even throwing objects at the preacher and his followers, with no one trying to stop them. Vale didn't exactly have a police presence anymore to stop this kind of behavior.

With nothing happening at the moment, Velvet allowed herself to think back over the events of the past week. Their momentary high of watching Brainiac be legitimately, if not completely, defeated was beginning to die down. In its place came a sense of fear and trepidation over what would happen to them next. Brainiac hadn't done anything yet, but that was almost certainly because he was still taking stock of his current situation while making critical repairs to his ship. It wouldn't be long before he could once again return his attention onto them, and Velvet didn't want to think about what new torments and experimentations he would inflict on them. There was already a slight uptick in disappearances, and Velvet couldn't help but wonder if Brainiac was somehow connected.

Not only that, but the Atlesian military forces that General Ironwood had brought with him to Beacon were starting to act a little strange in Velvet's opinion. They were still a vital component of maintaining order in their section of Vale, and had been very helpful overall, but their upper leadership seemed to grow more and more distant.

Especially General Ironwood. He was starting to be seen less and less. Before the Green Lantern attack, he could be seen wandering the halls of Beacon throughout the day, but now he'd been sequestering himself in the remains of the Pride of Atlas, which had been turned into the Atlesian military's ad hoc headquarters. He was also having more and more of his soldiers conduct recovery expeditions into the unclaimed sections of the city, scavenging raw resources and pieces of Brainiac's technology. The former he was sharing with everyone, but the latter he was keeping for himself. No one seemed to know what he was doing, not even the other teachers.

Velvet was worried, but at the same time also trusted that the General knew what he was doing. At first glance he may seem to be a cold-hearted man, but she and everyone else had come to recognize the compassionate defender he truly was. Whatever Ironwood's plan happened to be, Velvet trusted he had their best interests at heart.

The minutes ticked by, and still there was no sign of anyone legitimately threatening in the crowd. Velvet couldn't help but start counting down the minutes to when their shift would end and another pair of teams would take their place. Even though he had planned this operation, Professor Ozpin knew it would be cruel to subject them to more than an hour of this guy's abuse. Something that Velvet was thankful for.

She was just about to say something about their shift ending when she noticed a small, hooded man emerge at the front of the protesting crowd, reaching into the front pocket of his hoodie. Velvet's eyes widened, and she yelled while pointing at him, "There he-!"

But she was too late as the assassin quickly pulled out a small pistol and fired six times into the preacher's chest, cutting off his vile words. He fell to the ground like a sack of rocks, blood oozing out of his body onto the podium, and the angry protesters and supporters devolved into panicked screams as they scrambled to run away. Chairs were overturned, people nearly trampled as others tried to make their escape. Only the assassin, with his white Grimm mask now easily seen underneath his hood and a pair of bat ears visible on the sides of his head, stayed where he was, looking down at the dead preacher with a triumphant smile.

"Get him!" Sun shouted, sprinting towards the assassin as fast as he could.

As he did, he pulled out Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang, his pair of shotgun nunchaku. Beside him was Neptune, unfurling Tri-Hard into its trident configuration and keeping its points aimed straight towards the assassin. Scarlet had already drawn Hook and Darling, aiming the flintlock pistol portion of the weapon pair at the Red Fang assassin's head, and Sage was dragging his massive sword, Pilgrim, along the ground with one hand, leaving a trail of sparks behind him.

Team CFVY were right beside them. Both of Fox's arms had one half of Sharp Retribution attached to them, and Yatsuhashi was holding his curved greatsword Fulcrum with both hands, ready to swing at a moment's notice. Only Coco and Velvet didn't have their weapons out, as Gianduja in its minigun configuration was far too excessive to bring in one man alive without the risk of massive collateral damage. For Velvet, her supply of Hardlight Dust was extremely limited, meaning it wasn't worth the expense to use Anesidora at this time.

Flashing a scowl at the Huntsmen and Huntresses, the assassin aimed his pistol towards them and fired another six times. Sage and Yatsuhashi immediately placed their blades in front of them, acting as massive impromptu shields to absorb the bullets. The assassin then haphazardly threw his now empty weapon at them, turning around to flee down a nearby alley.

"Scarlet, get up high and tell us where he's going!" Sun ordered, with Scarlet immediately complying. He jumped atop a few large piles of debris before using his Semblance to glide up despite the inert air currents, giving him enough of a boost to reach a nearby rooftop. Sprinting and leaping across them, Scarlet fired a single shot towards the assassin, only for him to miss the fleeing target and strike a nearby brick wall instead.

"Dammit! He's going left!" Scarlet declared, prompting the rest of the pursuing Huntsmen and Huntresses to sharply veer left after their target. As they ran, the assassin jumped up and off a wall while throwing down a nearby stack of boxes carrying salvage and miscellaneous items, momentarily causing the students to pause lest they run into them, with the exception of Velvet who effortlessly copied his movements and quickly took the lead of the pack.

"Velvet, keep going!" Coco shouted as she got back to a hasty sprint. As she ran, she glanced over at Neptune and ordered, "Neptune, take the shot!"

"I'm trying, but I can't get a bead on him!" Neptune revealed, having already shifted Tri-Hard into a railgun which was loaded with a net round. Unfortunately, with all the people walking through the streets and trying their best to get out of the way of the chase, it was nearly impossible to isolate just the assassin without accidentally hitting a citizen instead.

"Sun, there's a three-way intersection coming up!" Scarlet revealed. "We might be able to cut him off!"

"Got it! Neptune, Sage, with me! Scarlet, you stay on Velvet!" Sun shouted as they approached the intersection Scarlet had forewarned them about.

"Fox, Yatsu and I will take the other way!" Coco added.

As they reached the three way intersection, Coco's group veered left while Sun's went to the right. Velvet ran straight after the assassin into the large alleyway, with Scarlet leaping and gliding across the wide street to stay on the rooftop just behind her.

The assassin, growing more and more agitated that his pursuers weren't giving up, attempted to shake Velvet and Scarlet off by taking advantage of the many twists and turns the alleyway offered. He was leaping across walls, sliding underneath stacks of boxes and debris that he simultaneously knocked over, but thanks to Velvet's Photographic Memory she was able to effortlessly follow his path. With her greater strength and endurance, honed through years of dedicated training, she was even able to start catching up to the assassin, with each stride bringing her closer and closer.

"You can't get away!" she told him as they ran. "Give up now before you make it worse for yourself!"

The assassin shot her a quick, enraged glance that told Velvet all she needed to know. He then jumped onto a nearby wall, rebounded to leap across the gap to another where he grabbed the edge of an AC unit that was nearly pulled from its mount under his weight. Hoisting himself upward, he began to scale a pipe in an attempt to reach the rooftop. Velvet was right behind him, repeating his actions perfectly. When she grabbed onto the AC unit, however, the strain was too great and it was ripped off the wall, forcing Velvet to hastily leap away and grab onto the nearest pipe, with the AC unit crashing onto the pavement below with a loud crash that echoed across the alley. It wasn't the exact same one that the assassin used, and she nearly fell off before regaining her grip, but Velvet didn't care as she began to climb up it regardless.

Quickly reaching the top, she immediately located the fleeing Red Fang assassin and gave chase, with Scarlet right behind her. They leapt across rooftops and over raised sections of the buildings, never once losing sight of the fleeing murderer. Below, they could catch momentary glimpses of their friends and teammates, rushing through the winding alleys in hot pursuit. To Velvet's relief, they were converging onto a single location that was coming up, telling her that this chase was coming to an end one way or another.

Pushing herself past her limits, she closed the gap between herself and the assassin as he reached the edge of the rooftop they were on. As he turned around in surprise, Velvet tackled the man as hard as she could. Her momentum carried them both over the edge, where they fell at least three stories towards the street below. They crashed into and through a broken fire escape, followed by the tattered remains of a fabric shade before slamming onto the ground. For a brief moment, Velvet laid there in pain, but she was able to recover as the assassin tried to escape. Rolling herself on top of him, she grabbed both of his wrists and held them firm against his back while planting her knees onto his legs. He tried to struggle and shake her off, but an emboldened Velvet Scarlatina wouldn't budge.

"It's over," she hissed as the rest of her teammates caught up to them, their weapons primed and ready to go. Sun gave her a quick, acknowledging nod, then he and Sage relieved Velvet of her burden by grabbing the captured assassin by his shoulders and raising him to his feet.

"You're under arrest, asshole," Coco growled as she walked up behind him, slinging Gianduja off her shoulder and idly hefting the nearly solid metal purse. "Let's go for a walk back to Beacon, shall we?"

"Fuck you, human, and you two traitors!" the assassin spat, directing that last insult squarely at Sun and Velvet, only to flinch when Coco unfolded her minigun with a menacing series of clanks. The message received, he reluctantly allowed himself to be escorted down the street, making sure to drag his feet as much as possible. More than a few people watched them from the sidelines, most relieved that another Red Fang agent was captured while others were confused or even angry.

Velvet didn't concern herself with them, however. Instead she focused on the man she had caught, and before she could stop herself she asked, "Why? What did that even accomplish?"

The assassin, as he was being dragged forward by the others, looked behind his shoulder and smirked before sarcastically answering, "Isn't it obvious? Divine retribution."

---

ANS Pride of Atlas

6:45 PM (Local Time)

Winter Schnee had just gotten out of an intense, hours-long interrogation of the Red Fang assassin teams SSSN and CFVY had apprehended earlier that day. So far, the best way she could describe it was that it had been a colossal waste of her time. The only information she had gotten out of him was that his name was Stephon Cye. That and more than a few insults directed specifically at her because of her heritage, both name and race. It had quickly become apparent that the man was a fanatical follower of Adam Taurus, making it extremely unlikely that they would obtain any useful information out of him.

Knowing this, she walked across the metal hallways of what used to be the flagship of Ironwood's Vytal Security fleet, her footsteps echoing across the walls, floor, and ceiling. Around her were workers and engineers, trying to repair what they could and maintain what they had already repaired. Many flashed her a quick salute out of respect for her rank, but the rest were too engrossed in their work to notice. Winter paid them no mind, focusing instead on what she would tell General Ironwood when she got to her destination.

After several minutes of walking up and down various decks, a trek that wasn't helped by how damaged the Pride of Atlas was, Winter finally managed to reach the bridge. It opened for her automatically, much to her relief as it meant they finally got that function working again. General Ironwood was standing before the shattered remains of the bridge's glass window, gazing out over the city with his arms crossed behind his back.

"General," Winter announced while flashing a salute of her own.

"Winter," Ironwood calmly greeted her while continuing to watch over the city from his perch, the second highest in the city behind only Ozpin's office. "Do you have a report on the interrogation?"

"Yes, but unfortunately he isn't talking," Winter confirmed as she folded her arms behind her back as well, and Ironwood briefly scowled in rage while slamming his fist against the railing, creating a small dent.

"Dammit! We go through all this effort and we're still no closer to catching that anim—!" Ironwood stopped himself, then took a deep breath and calmly corrected, "That murderer. We're still no closer to catching that murderer."

"It's alright, sir. I understood what you meant," Winter assuaged her superior officer. While the negative connotations of calling any faunus an animal was quite unfortunate, she knew that wasn't his intention. Besides, if anyone deserved to be called such, it was Adam Taurus.

Ironwood sighed and shook his head, then remarked, "If only I had more men. If I did, I could just march an army into the city to hunt him down, leave no stone unturned until he's brought to justice. But I don't have enough manpower to do that while keeping Beacon safe."

"We understand, sir. Don't worry, we'll catch him," Winter declared. "I have other interrogators working on Stephon as we speak. It may take some time, but we'll break him."

"I wouldn't bother. He's a fanatic, and fanatics won't turn on their cause for anything," Ironwood dismissed with a wave of his hand. "He's more likely to commit suicide than betray his beloved leader and Red Fang."

"Which is why we have him under constant watch and supervision," Winter said. "He won't be able to escape his fate, not if we have anything to say about it."

"See that you do. If you get anything from him, let me know," Ironwood replied, briefly glancing over his shoulder to look at Winter before turning back to Vale's dome-capped skyline.

Winter nodded in understanding, but then paused as she noticed the blueprints laying on a nearby table. While she was too far away to read it cleanly, she already knew what it contained. After all, she had been part of its planning stages.

"General, may I have a word about this…plan of yours?" Winter asked, and General Ironwood immediately turned around to look at her fully.

"Of course, Winter. I take it you still have concerns," Ironwood replied, and Winter nodded.

"Somewhat. Mostly over our decision to not inform the members of the Council," Winter confirmed, partially referring to Vale's remaining civilian leaders but mostly to Professor Ozpin and the other high-ranking faculty members of Beacon Academy.

"It's simply a measure of operational security," Ironwood told her. "The more people who know that we've restarted the project, the more likely it is for the plan to leak, thus ruining everything."

"Which I understand and agree with," Winter pointed out, "but this involves the Superheavy Dust Bomb. Not only restarting it, but increasing its destructive yield? If that bomb were to go off accidentally, it would destroy all of Vale."

"Hence the need for the utmost security. The last thing we need is for someone like Adam Taurus, Roman Torchwick or, Gods forbid, Brainiac to find out the most powerful weapon in the kingdom is right in the heart of this ship," Ironwood explained. "Believe me, Winter, I am not doing this lightly. We simply have no other choice."

Winter pursed her lips, then asked, "But surely Professor Ozpin at least could be trusted with this operation?"

Ironwood sighed and shook his head, then replied, "Ozpin knows how to keep secrets better than anyone, but he's far more likely to try and shut it down rather than actually help. He has proven to be…unwilling to take the necessary risks as of late."

"You're referring to his decision to not participate in the Green Lantern's attack?"

"Partially, although I do understand why he didn't. Still, I would've liked it had he at least tried," Ironwood muttered, a brief frown crossing his face. He then shook his head and continued, "But regardless, it's not that. The most important reason why Ozpin can't be involved with Operation AURORA is because I have reason he believe he and the others lack the will to do what needs to be done."

"And that is?"

"Forcing Brainiac's hand," Ironwood revealed. "We all saw that the Green Lanterns had Brainiac at their mercy, but he knew they wouldn't actually kill him and risk destroying all the other cities he captured. If he believes that someone will, regardless of what will happen to the other cities, actually kill him, Brainiac will relent to their demands. All we need to do is get the Superheavy Dust Bomb onto his ship and demand he release all of the captive Remnant cities onto a habitable planet, otherwise we will detonate it."

Winter nodded, remembering the larger goals of the plan that they were still trying to figure out the specifics of. She then frowned and asked, "And if he refuses our demands?"

Ironwood sighed again and pointed out, "Brainiac needs to believe that we will follow through with our threats, otherwise there is no hope of him agreeing to negotiate. There can be no room for doubt, which is why I will be the one holding the detonator."

Winter's lips flattened, not entirely liking the sound of what Ironwood was saying. It was dangerously close to him admitting that he was willing to risk destroying all of what remained of Remnant in the hopes of defeating Brainiac. At the same time, she also recognized the logic in his words, so she nodded in agreement.

"And what will we do after he plants Remnant's cities onto a planet?" Winter asked, and Ironwood's face grew dark.

"Then we detonate the bomb, killing him before he has a chance to inevitably betray us and stopping him from hurting anyone else ever again," Ironwood answered, causing Winter's eyes to widen.

"Wouldn't that…destroy all the other alien cities?" Winter pointed out, and Ironwood released a heavy sigh while nodding.

"Yes, it would," he confirmed, his guilt obvious and transparent as was his unflinching resolve. "When I detonate that bomb, I will be committing genocide on an unimaginable scale and damning myself to Hell. It's an unforgivable act, one I cannot impose onto anyone, which is why I will be the one doing it. But we have to be honest with ourselves, Winter. Those aliens Brainiac has captured…while they are victims like us, they're not our people. They're not our responsibility. We need to look out for our own first and foremost."

Ironwood stood up straighter then continued, "Besides, these people in the bottles…one way or another they're already dead if Brainiac isn't stopped. Either they die peacefully in an instant, their captor dying with them, or their cruel existence under his microscope persists for generations until he empties the bottle anyway for his new victims. I know which one I would prefer."

Winter stared at the general silently for a few moments, keeping her face in the same cold mask she'd mastered before she'd even stepped foot in Atlas Academy. She then nodded in reluctant agreement before flashing a salute. Ironwood nodded, then dismissed her as he turned around to look back onto Vale. She spun around on her heels before exiting the bridge, trying her best to follow Ironwood's example and keep her emotions down. Still, try as she might, she couldn't escape this feeling that they were beginning to travel down a dark road, and she didn't know what waited for them at the end.

---

9:30 PM (Local Time)

Atlas Academy

Bottled City of Atlas

Clover Ebi sat on his chair in the remains of what used to be General Ironwood's office. Surrounding him was the rest of the elite Ace Operatives, all seated in their own chairs while focusing their attention on the television screen mounted onto the wall. They were watching a news report on a press conference held by Jacques Schnee and many other members of Atlas' elite, highlighting their plans to help rebuild Atlas and Mantle with what little resources they had left.

"The Atlas Rebuilding Initiative proposed by Schnee Dust Company CEO Jacques Schnee has proven to be quite controversial," the reporter for Atlesian Broadcasting Channel declared. "While its supporters insist that it remains the most efficient way to rebuild the kingdom, its detractors claim that it does so at the expense of Mantle. Demonstrations have already broken out across Mantle against the initiative, with many led by Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses."

"For too long, Mantle and its people have been viewed as second class citizens by the Atlesian government," a recording of Robyn Hill declared as the camera captured her speaking to a large crowd of supporters, the rest of her Happy Huntresses flanking her. "Now, more than ever, we cannot allow our class differences to drive us further apart. We are all Atlesian, which is why I insist that our government treats us as such. The city of Atlas should not and will not be rebuilt while Mantle is left to squalor and ruin."

"A spokesman for Mr. Schnee, speaking on his behalf, insisted that Miss Hill is 'grossly misrepresenting the purpose and intention behind the initiative,' the reporter said while coming back onto the screen. "An invitation was offered to Miss Hill to discuss the matter personally in Schnee Manor and reconcile any differences between their visions. Miss Hill, however, adamantly refused while citing the disproven conspiracy theory that the kidnapping of Willow and Whitley Schnee by Brainiac was aided and abetted by Mr. Schnee himself."

A recording taken weeks ago during one of the few public appearances by Jacques Schnee came up on screen, and a visibly shaken and angry Jacques boldly declared, "I resent these vile allegations. Brainiac held me and several of my employees at gunpoint, injuring one to the point of hospitalization. He took my wife and son from me, and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop him."

Clover zoned out from what the reporter was saying, leaning back into his chair while the newest member of the Ace-Ops Marrow Amin, a wolf faunus with dark skin, long greenish-black hair, and a dark-grey canine tail coming out of his lower back, growled, "That lying piece of crap…"

"I second that," the small and tightly wound Harriet Bree added, her tan skin contrasting sharply with her spiked, bleached-blonde hair. She was hunched over in her chair while clasping her hands together in front of her face, and she angrily spat, "He's been acting like he tried to stop Brainiac from taking Willow and Whitley this whole time when he really just handed them over to save his own skin."

"He's a damn coward," continued Elm Ederne, a tall, muscular woman with brown-tan skin and short, brown hair whose asymmetrically-sleeved jacket proudly showed off her left arm for all to see. "We should've arrested him as soon as the butler came to us with his allegations."

"We all know why we couldn't do that, Elm," the ever-calm Vine Zeki disputed, his deathly-pale skin, marked only by the tattoo of a third eye on his forehead, and light blue eyes adding to the serene and tranquil disposition he constantly employed.

"Why don't you remind us again?" Harriet sarcastically asked, only for Vine to take her up on her offer and begin to explain.

"The only evidence of Jacques Schnee's crime is the testimony of one Klein Sieben, who came to us directly following his release from the hospital," Vine pointed out, laying his hands atop his lap. "All of the other witnesses to the kidnapping have disputed his claim."

"Because they were participants!" Marrow countered. "Of course they would dispute it. They were lying their asses off!"

"Be that as it may," Vine conceded, "there is the issue that there is no other corroborating evidence to support what Klein insists actually happened. It doesn't matter if we believe and know it to be true. There simply isn't enough evidence to bring to court. No security camera footage, no other witnesses, only Klein's word against Jacques'. On that front, the SDC has already started a smear campaign against Klein, insisting that he is nothing more than a disgruntled employee lashing out in his grief against his former employer while simultaneously painting Jacques as the real victim. Jacques has also refused to meet with Robyn Hill in person due to her Semblance, Lie Detection, despite his public claims of wanting to do just that."

Vine held up his finger in emphasis and pointed out, "The one time she took him up on his offer, he sent a representative in his place while making some excuse to not attend. He's also refused to leave his mansion while tripling the number of guards in his employ, turning Schnee Manor into a fortress while furthering his claims that he was severely affected and traumatized by what happened."

"Probably the only honest thing he's done in years…" Marrow mumbled, his tail standing straight back in agitation.

"Well, his PR campaign clearly worked," Clover muttered while keeping his eyes on the television monitor. "The majority of people in Atlas honestly believe he's a victim."

"But clearly not in Mantle," Elm muttered, glancing at the news report which was showing an effigy of Jacques Schnee being paraded around on a large pole, the word 'Murderer' written in dark red on a sign draped around its neck. "As soon as the smear campaign started, Klein went right down to Mantle and took up residence with the Happy Huntresses, adding more fuel to the fire burning down there."

"He should've stayed with us," Harriet said while shaking her head. "All that did was make his claims seem even less believable to the people who matter."

"Klein only did that because we weren't able to do anything," Marrow pointed out, a deep, regretful frown on his face. "By going to Robyn, he at least was able to spread the truth around to people who would actually listen."

"Which is another problem," Harriet spoke up, her tone rising alongside her anger. "General Ironwood wouldn't have let this stand. He would've marched in and arrested that bastard as soon as Klein told him what happened without a second thought, yet we haven't because of 'optics.' Why we're even letting the civilians manage everything right now astounds me."

"Harriet, we've been over this," Clover calmly spoke up. "Even if I was willing to allow that, too much of our military was wiped out during Brainiac's invasion. We simply don't have the manpower or resources to put Atlas under martial law, whereas most of the civilian leadership was able to survive."

"Indeed. It was logical to keep governance in civilian hands, not to mention help calm tensions between the cities during the initial aftermath. We could justify instituting martial law during the first few weeks, but prolonging it any longer than that could've led to widespread riots that we would've been unable to control. It almost did," Vine concurred with his superior officer. Harriet glared angrily at him, then hung her head and released a sigh.

"I know, I know. I'm just…frustrated at all this," Harriet quietly admitted, and the rest of the Ace-Ops looked at her sympathetically. Marrow momentarily moved to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself after noticing that none of the others were doing the same. He quickly decided to emulate their example, sitting straight up with his arms clasped tightly to his sides.

Clover, meanwhile, glanced out of the window towards the city of Atlas. Much of it still laid in ruins, a far cry from the majesty it represented before Brainiac's invasion. While the hardlight shield generators along the outer edges of the floating island did protect much of the city during the actual battle, significant damage still occurred. Especially during the final moments when the shield finally gave out. Months later, they were still in the process of repairing the devastation, and current estimates said it would likely be years before Atlas could return to a semblance of normalcy. Mantle was even worse, with most of the fighting confined to its walls, although from here Clover couldn't see the lower city at all. He idly wondered if that was a symbol of some kind.

Perhaps in an even worse state than the city was the current status of the kingdom's leadership, especially in the armed forces. The upper military chain of command was almost completely gutted, with most dying during the actual battle. Several more succumbed to their injuries once the battle was over, and others took their own lives over the totality of their failure to protect their kingdom. Normally, General Ironwood would've been there to provide a steady hand and proper leadership, but he had been in Vale at the time.

Since then, despite the efforts of Dr. Pietro Polendina, who mostly stayed with the people of Mantle and the Happy Huntresses, to bridge the gap between the CCT towers across the bottled cities they had been unable to reestablish contact. There was no word about the state any other city was in. For all they knew, General Ironwood died in the fighting, which left a significant power vacuum in Atlas itself.

The first few weeks after Brainiac bottled them were complete and utter chaos. Most of the kingdom's infrastructure had been destroyed, including significant damage to Mantle's heating grid. Thousands succumbed to starvation and hypothermia before they were able to bring it back online, although it was much colder down there than before. There had been a period of lawlessness, with criminal gangs and AWOL military officers attempting to form their own little fiefdoms in the ruins, preying on those trying to recover from the tragedy. With how decimated the military was initially, for weeks they were able to gather their strength and fortify, repelling any efforts to bring them to justice. Ultimately, things only began to improve when Clover, as one of General Ironwood's direct protégés and head of the Ace-Ops, was forced to step into a leadership position and making him the head of what remained of Atlas' military. It was a job he was not remotely qualified for and was still trying to get the hang of, but anyone higher ranked than him was dead. More than a few times he questioned whether he was doing the right thing, but he tried his best to follow his mentor's example.

The civilian leadership, while also impacted by the invasion with several deaths, was mostly able to survive thanks to dedicated military protection and retreating into underground bunkers. In fact, the casualties in Atlas itself were relatively minor. Thousands still died, but the majority of the city's inhabitants were able to evacuate to the underground subway tunnels which Brainiac's forces completely avoided. Mantle suffered much higher casualties, but most of the population had also been able to evacuate to the massive pit mine that formed the heart of the city thanks to efforts coordinated by the Happy Huntresses. With so much of Mantle destroyed, the majority of its population still lived in and around that mine, forming a sprawling shanty town that showed no signs of going away anytime soon.

Overall, the kingdom of Atlas was in a mess. Every day they were faced with perpetual shortages of food, water, electricity and more. People were scared, confused, and didn't know what was going to happen next. Tensions with Mantle continued to rise each and every day, and it didn't help that hostile actors like Jacques Schnee were fanning the flames of resentment. Despite her being the voice of Mantle, Clover didn't blame Robyn in the slightest. She was fighting for her people, and Clover honestly hoped to work with her in a more open capacity to solve the problems they all shared. He respected her, a sentiment he hoped that she shared towards him.

But, at the same time, Clover had to be honest with himself. Were it not for one overlaying factor, it was likely that relations between Atlas and Mantle would've exploded into widespread riots. That reason was Brainiac, whose dome hung over them instead of the Solitas sky they all grew up under and who had kidnapped dozens of people for his unknown experiments, never to be seen again. Their shared victimhood had united the peoples of Atlas and Mantle, and Clover hoped it would be enough to keep things calm.

As the broadcast came to a close, Clover turned off the television then stood up from his chair. He turned to look at the others and said, "Come on, break time's over. We have work to do."

The other Ace Operatives nodded, then they too stood up and walked out of the office, ready to tackle whatever challenges were in their way, yet quietly worried that things were going to continue to get worse and worse. Clover couldn't help but absentmindedly rub his lucky charm, hoping that his Semblance, Good Luck Charm, could perhaps spread to affect more than just himself and his team.

---

January 4th, Year 2

8:15 AM (Local Time)

Bottled City of Mistral

An air of unease hung over the city of Mistral, trapped and amplified by the glassy dome encasing the city like a greenhouse. It was hot and sweaty as an artificial heat wave rolled over them, with the people constantly looking over their shoulders for any signs of danger. Around the marketplace formed in the ruins of what used to be a public park, slowly waking up as the fake sun rose overhead, people were setting up shop and opening their doors for potential customers. Compared to what Mistral was supposedly like before Brainiac's invasion, it was a somber and cold affair, with most people just wanting to play it safe and get on with their lives.

Armed White Fang guards patrolled the streets and stood watch on corners and rooftops. Most of them weren't wearing their trademark Grimm masks anymore, in an attempt to appear friendlier to the masses they were supposed to be protecting. A direct order from High Leader Sienna Khan from her seat of power in Haven Academy. It was somewhat ironic. Before the invasion, Sienna was mostly seen as an extremist or terrorist, depending on who you talked to. But now she was apparently attempting to play the role of statesman. To her credit, her official edicts were supposed to be equitable to everyone under her leadership, both human and faunus, but sadly Mistral was a hotbed of racial tension, and Brainiac's invasion did little to help with that.

"Why did I see you going to Shaw's Bar the other night?" a visibly angry White Fang agent, who appeared to be a cat faunus whose hands were replaced by feline paws, asked a nervous human man, who was attempting to keep his fruit stall between them.

"I…I just wanted a drink," he admitted, but that did little to placate his interrogator.

"Really? You just wanted a drink?" he sarcastically replied. "You could've gone to any number of bars and restaurants open at that time. Julia's, Hole in the Wall, the Green Dragon. All of them are around here, yet you chose Shaw's."

"It…it was closest to where I live," the scared man pointed out. "And the drinks are cheaper there."

"So the fact that Shaw used to turn away faunus customers didn't affect your decision at all?

The man's face visibly blanched, and he stuttered, "…He…doesn't do that anymore."

"BECAUSE WE MADE HIM!" the White Fang agent screamed, nearly lunging at the man as his anger got the better of him. Just as he grasped the man's shirt, however, his partner stepped in and pulled him away.

"Knock it off, now!" the other White Fang agent, a wolf faunus with a secondary pair of canine ears atop his head, yelled as he pulled his partner away from the now terrified human. He looked at him apologetically, then said, "I'm terribly sorry, sir. Please, just go about your day."

Before he or anyone else could have a chance to speak up, the senior White Fang agent dragged the other into a nearby secluded alleyway. Once they were out of sight and earshot, he angrily shoved his younger partner against the wall and hissed, "What the hell was that?!"

"That man was going to a racist bar!" the younger faunus angrily pointed out, only to be shoved back into the wall.

"That does not mean he, himself, is a racist! You had no proof he discriminated against faunus at all, yet you nearly attacked him anyway," the senior agent refuted. "You know what the High Leader said. We are here to keep the peace, not seek retribution. Especially in places that don't deserve it. Now, I'm going to trust you to go back out there and not make another scene, but mark my words if you pull another stunt like this again there will be consequences. Understand?"

The younger faunus glared at his superior for a few moments, a glare that was matched and surpassed in intensity by the other White Fang agent. He then finally relented and averted his gaze, nodding in defeat. The senior agent nodded back, then released him from the wall and escorted him back into the marketplace. When they left the alleyway, a few people who had noticed the altercation were staring at them, but they hastily averted their gazes.

Soon the entire marketplace fell back into a sense of normalcy and relative security. Off in the shadows there was one figure who tracked the White Fang guards' departure. They stepped out to reveal a young boy wearing a thick, dark-green hoodie that was covered in various patches and stitches that showed how much wear and tear it had gone through in the past few months. Thick olive pants covered his legs, ending with dark brown boots that had clearly seen plenty of use. A long, flowing cape made of dark-green cloth shrouded him, which included a large hood that obscured his face. From underneath the hood he watched everything with careful, observant eyes, with no one paying him any mind.

For the most part, he found everything calm, much as he expected in the Upper City. Under the direct watch of Sienna Khan, the militant White Fang was mostly kept in check. Reprisals were kept to a minimum and properly reported and punished. Issues still cropped up frequently, but overall the Upper City was still the safest place to live. It certainly helped that one of Sienna's primary policies was increasing the number of communal housing available to keep people off the streets, with more and more manors that used to house just a handful of people now being turned into makeshift apartment complexes every single day.

With everything seeming peaceful at the moment, the hooded boy turned around and began to make his way into the lower reaches of the city. With each layer passed, more and more obvious signs of damage could be seen. Leftovers from when Brainiac invaded. Entire city blocks, ranging from tall skyscrapers to residential buildings, had been completely leveled. People were still trying to sift through the remains, scavenging whatever they could and recovering the mountain of dead left in the aliens' wake.

More importantly, the further one got from Haven's shadow, the less control the academy was able to wield. Both over the random citizens of the city, and its own operatives who acted far more freely than they would otherwise in the Upper City. It was harder for Sienna to see or hear what was truly going on in the Middle City, and her more volatile agents took full advantage of that freedom.

"You have no right to do this!" a storeowner screamed as a group of five White Fang operatives, all wearing their masks, ransacked his store with metal bats and wooden boards. Their ringleader, a muscular boar faunus with a pair of tusks coming out of his mouth, stood in front of the man and prevented him from rushing forward.

"We got word that this place was smuggling illegal goods, and refusing to serve faunus customers, too," the operative declared while crossing his burley arms over his chest. "My boys just want to investigate."

"I didn't do either of those things! I never have!" the human insisted, but he quickly stepped back in fear as the faunus stomped closer to him.

"Oh, really? Well, I just so happened to get an anonymous tip, and we're going to tear that place apart until we…verify who's telling the truth," the White Fang agent said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Unless you want to do something about it, human."

"I…I…" the human storeowner stammered, trying to find a way out of this situation that wouldn't leave him a bloody, broken mess on the ground.

Down the street, the watching boy narrowed his eyes and reached for something beneath his cloak. These White Fang operatives certainly looked intimidating, but he'd gotten enough experience by now to recognize when someone was more bark than bite. It would be tough, but he could take them if he played his cards right. But, before he, the shop owner, or the White Fang operative threatening him could say or do anything else, another group of people confidently walked towards them, all wearing matching purple shirts, jackets, and vests. On each of their bodies, never in the same spot, were also matching tattoos of a small, black spider laying in the middle of a spiderweb.

"Buddy, buddy, let's all just calm down," the leader of the newly arrived bunch insisted while waving his hands back and forth. Rather than calm down, the White Fang operatives stopped what they were doing and rushed over to their leader, with the human storeowner quickly scurrying to get out of the way.

"Get out of here, Spider," the boar faunus hissed while pulling out a knife. "Or we're going to make you. This is White Fang territory."

Instead of getting intimidated, the Spiders merely chuckled among themselves, then pulled out small handguns and pointed them at the White Fang operatives. As their opponents visibly recoiled at their display of firepower, proving the boy's assertion right, the leader of the Spiders mockingly said, "Nah, this place is under our protection. So I'm going to have to ask you to leave, or we're going to make you. Your choice."

The two lines of thugs stared at each other, neither party moving. The tension grew with each passing moment, and the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. For a brief moment, the White Fang grunts seemed like they were going to charge, only to flinch when the Spiders audibly cocked the hammers of their handguns back. Realizing that they were outmatched, the leader of the White Fang slowly and reluctantly lowered his weapon, then with a quick huff began to walk away. The rest of his men followed him, shooting angry glares towards the Spiders who mockingly waved goodbye.

"Say hi to Sienna for me. Miss Malachite sends her regards," the Spiders' leader called out, and as the White Fang left earshot he turned to look at the grateful storeowner.

"Thank you. Thank you so much!" he graciously told them while shaking their hands, the Spiders giving the man faux smiles while stowing away their weapons.

"It's our pleasure. Besides, this is what the protection money you pay us is for," the Spider said, only to pause and tap his chin while looking at the ruined store. "Geez, those animals, for lack of a better term, really did a number on this place."

"I know, and for no reason!" the storeowner said while turning to look at it. "Gagh, it's going to take me weeks to clean up this mess!"

"Mmm-hmm, assuming they don't come back," the Spider added.

"I don't even want to think about that. Ugh, what am I going to do?" the worried storeowner moaned while running his hands through his grey hair.

"From where I'm standing, looks like you need some more protection," the Spider said, the rest of his men giving him conspiratorial glances of approval that the storeowner missed. "Tell you what, I'll talk to the lieutenant and ask about placing a few more soldiers around here to…make sure this place is protected."

"You'll do that?" the happy storeowner asked as a smile grew across his face. "Thank you, I—"

"But," the Spider continued, cutting him off, "it's going to cost you more."

"…What?"

"I mean, with the extra manpower needed, not to mention the increased risk to our members, it's going to be more expensive to protect you. It's just simple economics, and at the end of the day we're legitimate businessmen, just like you. We need to recoup our costs," the Spider explained, and it quickly became obvious to everyone involved what this was turning into.

"But…I'm already paying you protection money. Isn't that enough?"

"That was before the White Fang started sticking their noses in your business. Now things are different."

The storeowner pursed his lips, then shook his head and replied, "I'm sorry, but…I don't have any more money to pay."

"Tsk, tsk. Well, that's a shame," the Spider said while shaking his head. He then placed his hands into his pants' pockets and declared, "In that case, looks like our business arrangement is over."

"What?!" the storeowner shouted in surprise as the Spiders turned around to leave.

"If you can't pay your protection fee, well, there's no reason for us to keep protecting you," the Spider explained, giving him a halfhearted wave from over his shoulder. "I recommend getting a gun. That'll drive them away, most of the time. Hopefully."

"But, but…" the storeowner stammered, halfheartedly reaching out towards them, but the Spiders were already gone. He was left alone to wallow in his despair, and as he turned to look at his ruined store, he collapsed to his knees as the shock and realization took hold.

The hooded boy watched it all from a nearby darkened alley, a deep scowl on his face and his fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to go over and help the man, but forced himself to stay where he was. There wasn't anything he could do to make this situation better, and it wasn't like he could convince him to head up to the Upper City where it was safer.

That was the problem here in the Middle City. It was a near constant fight for control between Miss Malachite's Spiders, who dominated the Lower City, and Sienna Khan's White Fang. Both groups wanted to expand their hold over Mistral, but from where the boy stood, Miss Malachite was the one who held the advantage here. Her organization was much more cohesive. How the last group of Spiders acted was typical of all the others. Ruthless yet disciplined. If any of them acted out of line, Little Miss would inevitably hear of it and the offender would be punished. They were allowed to pursue their own agendas, but so long as they towed the party line, they were afforded plenty of leeway.

The same could not be said for the White Fang. Before Brainiac's invasion, there had been rumblings of a growing sect within its ranks that aligned more with how Adam Taurus was running his cell in Vale. They wanted more violence and retribution, to put the Faunus on top and subjugate humanity as vengeance for the pain inflicted onto them for centuries and more. But Sienna, despite being more than willing to use violence to accomplish her goals, still wanted the faunus to be treated as equals rather than superiors.

She couldn't help but often give the faunus preferential treatment, but she still tried to provide for all of her subjects equally. Not all of her supposed followers agreed with that, however, even among those she trusted to report to her directly. And in the dark reaches of the Middle City where she couldn't see what was going on at all times, many not-so-former terrorists took their vengeance. Innocent and guilty people were harshly punished, mostly humans and even a few faunus whom they felt didn't align with their extremist views. These violent acts pushed many into the arms of the Spiders who were more than willing to exploit them for all that they were worth in the name of protection.

So far, the city hadn't fallen into complete chaos and open warfare, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before it did. Until then, the boy had to pick his battles. He was only one person, and in this environment, the actions of one couldn't do a whole lot at any one time. Occasionally the scale of what he was trying to affect nearly overwhelmed him, but even now he persevered.

The hooded boy continued to prowl the streets of the middle city, keeping his head down and avoiding bringing any undue attention onto himself. As he walked, he kept a careful watch on his surroundings. Compared to the Upper City, everything was dirtier and more hazardous. Drug dealers and escorts were operating completely in the open, peddling their products and services to any who were interested. The prices legitimate storeowners were demanding were much higher than they were in the Upper City, a consequence of having to pay excess 'protection' fees to the Spiders. At the same time, the people seemed to be more relaxed, not looking at the patrolling Spiders with fear that any one of them would suddenly lash out and attack them, showing why they were putting up with their squalid living conditions.

Seeing that he wasn't needed here, and wanting to avoid being recognized by staying in one place for too long, the boy continued moving on. He traveled deeper and deeper into the city, staying along the edge of White Fang and Spider territory. It seemed as though every block involved a change in hands. One street would be patrolled by Spiders, the next by the White Fang. Everyone was tense, constantly looking over their shoulder for any threats. Whenever the two opposing factions intersected, there would be long, hard standoffs where they would silently dare the other to make the first move. For the most part, neither of them did more than hurl insults with only the occasional blow, but no serious fighting actually took place.

At least until the boy began to hear a loud cacophony of gunshots in the distance, causing him to immediately begin sprinting towards the noise. Drawing closer, he saw numerous terrified people running away, trying to keep their heads low while avoiding the bullets flying around them. Makeshift incendiary grenades made out of glass bottles filled with a mixture of oil and Fire Dust were being thrown, igniting along the ground and walls as soon as the glass shattered.

Climbing up a fire escape, the fellow ran to the edge of a rooftop to get a better look at the carnage. As he guessed, there were two large groups of Spiders and White Fang fighting each other, a hectic mixture of gunfire and melee combat tearing everything apart. Scores of terrified people were trying to either run away or take cover, with neither party particularly caring that civilians were caught in the crossfire. Already a few had been injured, some clutching their wounds tightly while others were just lying dead on the street.

The boy scowled, and knew that this fight had to stop right now before more people got hurt. Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out a small, roughly carved wooden mask and tied the leather straps around his head. He then pulled out the lumber axe he kept strapped to his back under his hooded cape, one of the few things he had left of his home. Creeping onto the edge of the rooftop he was on, he quickly scanned each of the combatants and tried to figure out the best way to take them out as quickly as possible.

Upon finding his first target, he pulled out a glass mason jar with a sparkler drilled through the center of the cap and filled with Combustion Dust and various other powders. He ignited the wick with a lighter, then tossed it down into the center of the fighters. As soon as the glass hit the pavement, it shattered and caused the ignited sparkler to make contact with the powders. They combusted immediately, sending a loud bang and bright flash of light as the improvised flash bang grenade worked as intended.

"GAGH! WHAT THE HELL?!" several of the fighters yelled in surprise, covering their eyes and ears in an attempt to stem the pain. It was even worse for the faunus, many of whom had secondary pairs of ears and more light-sensitive eyes that made the effects of the flashbang even more pronounced.

The boy followed up his initial strike by throwing down a pair of fireworks which ignited in the center of the Spiders' group. His improvised grenades went off with two chains of pops, causing the criminals to scatter in an attempt to protect themselves and, more importantly, pausing the fighting long enough for more civilians to escape the crossfire. Determined to help more people get away, the hooded boy jumped down from the rooftop onto the back of a Spider, causing the woman to collapse under his weight into the pavement. Her Aura was already weakened from the fighting against the White Fang, and under his landing it broke completely.

He followed up his attack by rushing towards the nearest fighter, using his lumber axe to sweep the legs of his disoriented opponent. As the man fell onto his back, the boy struck his face a few times with the back of the axe head like a hammer hitting a nail, breaking his Aura and knocking the criminal out cold. The boy was already onto his third opponent, hitting another Spider a few times with heavy axe swings to destroy the remains of her Aura and take her out of the fight, but by then the effects of the flashbang and firework grenades had subsided and the two groups of criminals immediately noticed the interloper in their midst.

"It's that damn Woodsman!" one of the Spiders declared, her voice filled with rage, and underneath his hood the Woodsman frowned while twirling his axe in his hand.

None of them knew who the Woodsman actually was, which he took great pains to ensure, so she defaulted to the title both the Spiders and White Fang had given to him. At first it had been an insult, mocking the boy for being a pale imitation of an actual Huntsman, most of whom died during the invasion. Those who remained were spread few and far between, if they were still active at all. With how much of an embarrassment his first few attempts at vigilantism had been, the insulting title was rightfully deserved. But that was at the beginning when the boy was just starting out. By now he had become a legitimate thorn in the side of both groups, and everyone made that clear as they snarled at him. She immediately turned to aim her weapon towards the boy, only for her to be struck down by a member of the White Fang wielding a board.

"Take them all out!" the extremist ordered, and the street descended into a three-way melee brawl. The White Fang and Spiders attempted to eliminate each other as before, with the additional emphasis on trying to take out the Woodsman as well. For his part, the Woodsman was attacking both groups, running between opponents and either leaving them open for their mutual opponents to take them out or striking them down himself with punches, kicks, and swings of his axe.

But, while he had gotten better over the past few months, his youth and inexperience showed. Now that they all knew he was there and the element of surprise faded, the Spiders and White Fang were able to get blows of their own against the Woodsman. He was knocked onto the ground repeatedly with heavy blows to his back, chest, stomach and sides. His body began to hurt all over, and sweat trickled down his brow as his breathing grew more and more labored. But, even as a White Fang agent pulled him violently down onto the ground by his cape and prepared to stomp his face in, the Woodsman refused to give up.

Thanks to his practice and training, he spun around on his back, sweeping his leg underneath the terrorist and knocking him down to his level. The Woodsman immediately swung his axe down like a heavy hammer onto his opponent's groin, causing him to recoil in agony as his Aura shattered. He curled up into a fetal position, allowing the Woodsman to shakily stand up and take stock of his situation. To his relief, the fighting was dying down, but only because the White Fang's group had almost become completely incapacitated. Their last fighter was being repeatedly punched in the face by a Spider, his Grimm mask shattered and nose broken and bleeding profusely. The Spiders weren't in the best position either, with only three of their members still standing. But, as they finished knocking the last White Fang out, they immediately turned their complete attention onto the Woodsman, and they snarled in rage.

"Get that punk!" one of them yelled, and all three charged the Woodsman with every intent to kill written on their faces.

The Woodsman quickly took stock of their situation. While all three were injured, so was he. In fact, he was more beat up than they were, and more importantly they outnumbered him three to one. He might be able to take out one or even two if he was lucky, but by no means was he likely to take out all three without breaking his already spotty Aura and suffering severe injuries. With that in mind, he did the only thing he could do. He turned tail and ran, prompting the criminals to give chase.

All four fighters ran down the streets and alleys of Mistral's Middle City at full tilt, trying their best to ignore their injuries press on. One of the Spiders proved unable to keep going, eventually coming to a stop in a winding alleyway against a wall while beckoning his partners to go on without him, who happily did so as they continued to pursue the Woodsman. For his part, the Woodsman only spared passing glances in their direction, keeping his focus otherwise on where he was going.

Spotting a fire escape, he leapt onto the ladder and began to climb. Below him, the other two Spiders continued their pursuit, with one yelling, "When I get my hands on you, kid, you're dead!"

The Woodsman didn't respond, instead continuing to climb higher and higher until he reached the rooftop. Once he did, he noticed that one of the bolts securing the ladder to the building was rusted, prompting him to take out his lumber axe once again and strike the bolt with his blade. After a few chops, the bolt broke completely, causing the ladder to tilt dangerously to the side as it began to fall.

The teenager couldn't resist calling out as it did so, "Timber!"

"Oh, SHIT!" the Spider screamed as the ladder completely collapsed onto the ground, sending a loud noise echoing across the walls. For a brief moment, the Woodsman smirked at his victory, only to stop when he noticed the second Spider climbing up another fire escape adjacent to the ladder he just knocked down.

Scrunching up his face, he turned around and ran to the other side of the building, leaping across another alley with his cape billowing behind him. The last remaining Spider continued his pursuit, following his exact path as he slowly gained on his target. Reaching another fire escape, the Woodsman scaled down it to the alley and turned to run into the street, only for the Spider to simply take a shortcut by sliding down a lead pipe. The Woodsman's scowl deepened, and he immediately turned and ran with purpose to what he believed would be a safe space to hide and recover.

They were much closer to each other now, and as they got higher and higher into the city, more people got in their path. Most got startled and parted ways as the two combatants ran through them, with some calling for guards to stop them. Neither the Spider nor the Woodsman stopped for a moment, continuing to run through an alley in the direction of the agricultural fields.

When the Woodsman reached a small, secluded alcove in the alley, filled with stacked boxes and crates, the Spider finally managed to catch up to him. He grabbed the Woodsman by the drifting cape, pulling him violently back before socking the boy in the face. His wooden mask shattered under the blow, knocking him down with a painful grunt as his feet flew out from under him from the momentum.

"Heh…nowhere to run now," the Spider said with malicious glee, standing over the Woodsman who struggled to push himself off the ground. When the boy reached for his fallen axe, the Spider kicked it away before dragging him up by the scruff of his hood. The Woodsman's hazel-colored eyes stared right into the Spider's defiantly, trying his best to not show his fear.

"You know," the Spider began, "Miss Malachite wanted me to bring you in alive if we ever managed to catch you. Something about 'paying you back for all the trouble you've caused.' But, now that I have you at my mercy…I think I'm just going to save her the trouble."

The Woodsman glared at the criminal, then spat in his face without saying a word. Enraged, the Spider punched the Woodsman in his eye, blackening it and knocking him into the stack of boxes. They collapsed onto the boy as his back slammed into them, covering his body as the Spider approached while cracking his knuckles.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this," the Spider declared, but as he prepared to inflict more pain onto his victim, someone else emerged from further down the alley.

"Hey, what's going on down here?" an elderly female voice called out, prompting the Spider and the Woodsman to turn towards her.

They both saw a short, hunched over women with dark skin and long silver hair tied into a single braid approach, holding a wooden walking stick that had a teal skull carved into the top. She was wearing a necklace of smooth jade and brown stones, along with a frilly, dark-blue full-length dress. Most striking of all, she was staring at them both through a bulky set of prosthetic eyes that glowed a bright cyan.

"This doesn't concern you, lady," the Spider told her while waving his arm to the side. "Just turn around and walk back the way you came."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. It's just…I got turned around is all. You know how windy these back alleys can be," the woman said as she continued to walk forward. "I was trying to find my way out when I heard a commotion going on, so imagine my surprise when I see a full-grown man trying to harm a sweet little boy."

The Spider frowned while the Woodsman remained silent, unable to move thanks to his injuries. The Spider quickly kicked the Woodsman in the side for good measure before stomping over to the woman, saying, "Listen here, that little brat and I have some unfinished business. He's been very naughty—"

"The only naughty person I see here is you," the elderly woman interrupted, marching straight up to him and glaring up into his eyes. "I've seen your type before. You act like you're reasonable or justified, but really you're just a bully. A bully who gets angry and frustrated whenever someone actually fights back and sticks up for themselves and others. You don't scare me, punk. If anything, you're pathetic."

The Spider shook with rage at the insults being thrown his way, then he moved to punch the elderly woman with all of his strength. But, just as his arm extended, the woman deftly moved to the side as though she knew exactly how he was going to move before he did. She hooked her cane underneath his arm and pressed a button, causing a metal prong to extend from the back of the skull. She hooked the short protrusion around the back of the surprised Spider's neck, then pulled him down with his own momentum into the corner of a nearby crate.

His Aura shattered upon impact, breaking his nose and leaving a bloodstain on the tan wood. He fell to the ground while clutching his face, crying in agony before stopping as the woman pointed her cane, and the small gun barrel hidden in its head, right at him.

"Get out of here," she ordered, with no room to argue in her voice. The Spider glanced up at her fearfully, then hastily got up to his feet and ran as fast as he could back towards the Middle City.

"Heh, works every time," the woman said with a smirk on her face. Retracting the hook on her cane, she began to walk over to the Woodsman as he struggled to push himself back onto his feet. She sighed and shook her head, then asked, "Well then, my little apprentice, are you okay?"

The Woodsman slowly rose to his feet, breathing heavily with his back turned to the woman. After a few moments, he turned around while lowering his hood, exposing the dirty mop of dark brown hair, and the bruised, tanned, and freckled face of one Oscar Pine.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ms. Calavera," Oscar said, trying to move towards her only to wince and clutch the side of his torso in pain. Maria Calavera sighed and shook her head, then carefully walked over to guide him to a smaller stack of boxes.

"Here, sit down," Maria told him. Oscar followed his teacher's demands, wincing in pain as he did so. Once he was settled, she continued, "Take it off and let me see."

Oscar nodded, then slid his cape and hoodie off of his body. This left him in the scuffed linen shirt underneath, with leather pads meant to help absorb the blows he took during fighting sewn across it with handmade stitches. He then slipped his orange suspenders off of his shoulders, raising up his white long-sleeve shirt to expose his bruised skin to the watchful eyes of Maria.

"Hmm," Maria hummed while carefully poking her finger at several of the wounds Oscar sported. Each touch caused him to wince, but thankfully it didn't last long before Maria pulled back and declared, "It's just a bunch of bruises, nothing serious. A few hours of rest and your Aura will patch you right up like nothing happened."

"Uggh, it doesn't feel like it," Oscar complained, lowering his shirt slowly and carefully. As he did, Maria took a seat next to him, planting the end of her cane onto the ground while looking up into his eyes.

"Your aunt and I were getting worried when you didn't come back this morning, so I figured I'd find you around here somewhere. All I had to do was follow the commotion," Maria began to explain.

"Yeah, well… My patrol took a turn," Oscar admitted, and Maria chuckled while shaking her head.

"Oh, is that what the kids are calling it now? Patrol…heh, how serious. Back in my day, they were called 'missions,'" Maria joked, and Oscar couldn't help but snort before wincing in pain.

"Ah, don't do that," he requested. "It hurts to laugh."

"Take that pain as a lesson to do a better job next time," Maria told him, her artificial eyes narrowing as she continued to look at him. "What happened?"

Oscar looked at his mentor, then answered, "I was…in the Middle City. Came across a group of White Fang and Spiders trying to kill each other, with people caught in the crossfire."

"So you thought you could take on two groups of criminals at once to end the fighting as fast as possible, am I understanding you right?"

"…Yeah."

"Did it work?"

"…For the most part."

Maria pursed her lips, then after a moment smiled and nodded before saying, "Good job."

"Good job? They nearly had me," Oscar pointed out, but Maria raised the palm of her hand while shaking her head.

"Not that. You clearly need more training before you can take on that many people at once," she admitted. "But you still stopped the fight and made it so that people could get away, which is what you set out to do."

Oscar stared at her for a moment before sighing and hanging his head, saying, "For what good it'll do. They'll be back at it tomorrow."

"Hey, if there's one thing I learned during my career as a Huntress, it's that every little bit counts," Maria said with a wide smile. "Don't sell yourself short. You helped those people while beating up a bunch of jerks. That's all anyone could ask for right now."

Oscar was silent for a moment, then nodded and replied, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Us old people are always right. It's you youngins who need to realize that," Maria teasingly declared, and Oscar once again chuckled. The pain was starting to fade away as his Aura slowly recovered, but he was still in no shape to move.

"Aren't you worried that the Spiders might come after you?" Oscar asked, but Maria shook her head.

"Nah. I know those types of people. He's not going to admit he got his butt whupped by an old lady."

"Even if that old lady was the Grimm Reaper?"

"You're the only person here who knows that," Maria pointed out. "And you only found that out by accident when I saved your sorry butt the first time you tried being a vigilante. Not that I'm complaining. Those thieves deserved the thrashing they got, and the exercise was good for my bones."

Oscar smiled warmly at that fond memory. It happened about a month after Mistral was bottled. He and his aunt were among the last groups of refugees who managed to reach the city before the invasion ended, having been driven off their farm by Brainiac's drones. All they had on hand were the clothes on their backs and the lumber axe Oscar had been using that day to complete his chores. For a while, they had been homeless like so many other people, but then Sienna and the White Fang repossessed a mansion that used to belong to a member of Mistral's elite and converted it into public housing. Oscar didn't know if the owner was killed during the invasion, or if Sienna merely took it by force after the fact, but he didn't particularly care. He and his aunt were given a small room that was barely big enough to hold two cots laid end to end, with comfort a pipe dream, but it meant a roof over their head and food in their bellies. That was enough for him.

Maria had been another tenant who was given shelter in that former mansion. She, like Oscar and his aunt, was a refugee who had the luck, or misfortune depending on who you ask, to have just returned to Mistral from a trip to Atlas when the invasion began. She proved to be quite popular with the people there, charming them with her wit and humor, but otherwise was mostly overlooked. Oscar considered himself among that group, at least until he could no longer just ignore the terrible things he was watching happen all around him and tried to do something about it.

His first attempt at being a vigilante was a complete disaster. He had tried stopping a pair of pickpockets from making off with their stolen goods, only to be beaten up and nearly robbed as well. That was when Maria stepped in, brandishing combat skills that no one expected her to have and driving the thieves away. They weren't able to get the goods they stole, but Maria cared far more about making sure that Oscar was alright. A week later, he went up to her and begged the retired Grimm Reaper to train him, and while it took a few days of constant begging to convince her, she eventually relented.

"By the way, do I have to keep wearing the cape?" Oscar asked, and Maria firmly nodded.

"Yes, you do. The cape is essential."

"By why? Do you know how many times people have grabbed that thing when I'm fighting them or it's gotten snagged on something as I'm trying to run around? It's a hinderance more than anything else."

"That's just because you're still getting the hang of wearing it," Maria dismissed with a wave of her hand and roll of her eyes. "I wore a cape for years and never had any trouble. You'll get used to it. Besides, capes help disguise you and what your arms are doing during combat, distract your opponents and, most importantly of all, just complete the look."

"…Really? How I look is the most important thing?"

"Being a Huntsman is just as much about style as it is substance," Maria teasingly answered, and Oscar couldn't help but laugh. The elderly woman joined him, and for a few minutes they simply sat there in comfortable silence.

After a while, Maria gently asked him, "You think you're good to head on back now? Your aunt needs some help with the soup line."

Oscar nodded, then said, "Yeah, I think I'm good now."

"Good. Now let's get a move on," Maria said, rising to her feet alongside Oscar who carefully wrapped his costume around himself. As he retrieved his simple axe and they began to walk back up the city, Maria added, "By the way, we're training again tonight. Clearly you still need it."

Oscar chuckled, then happily replied, "Yes, ma'am."

[~][~]

Hello, everyone! Here is the latest chapter of Hunters of Justice! A very special thank you to NaanContributor and Jesse K for their help in bringing this chapter to life despite everything that's been going on. While I will not be diving into specifics due to the sensitive nature of what happened, there was an event that happened with one of our teammates' families that prompted a delay in editing this chapter.

A lot happened in this chapter. Qrow, Penny, Willow, and Whitley are acclimating to Earth, Salem has arrived, and she and Lex are already planning on betraying each other when the time is right, and we also get to see glimpses of what's going on in both Atlas and Mistral. We considered showing Vacuo as well, but due to Vacuo not being seen in the show proper just yet and nothing of major plot importance happening there for now, we decided to not show it.

To answer some of your more pressing questions, rest assured that we do have plans for all of the newcomers. That includes Willow and Whitley, even if they won't be a direct participant in the superhero shenanigans that make up the heart of this story.

Once again, I must reiterate that I do not take suggestions or requests for this story. Reviews along the lines of "I hope we get X" or "You should do Y" will not be considered as a matter of principal. I especially will not do story requests. If you want a story to be written, write it yourself because I will not. The only stories I write are those I come up with myself.

We already saw Dr. Fate, and you'll definitely see the Main Man. As for Klarion, not necessarily but, if I can find a use for him in a chapter, you can expect to see him. Right now, though, he isn't a major part of my plans.

Once again, I must insist that the reviews do not turn into a chatroom request. I've been allowing guest reviews to get away with some things as some of them make good points and I don't want to be the guy who turns them off. But I will start removing guest reviews if they are direct responses to other reviews.

Cyborg and Penny are meant to be a brother-sister dynamic. Don't expect anything romantic coming from them. Besides, the only romantic partner I legitimately see for Penny is Ruby. Do not take that as an indication as to what ship I will be doing for Ruby, if any, for this story.

I'm glad so many of you liked last chapter. As for the potential of Grid coming online, you'll have to wait and see.

We hope you guys enjoy. If any of you have a TV Tropes account, any assistance you guys can provide in updating the TV Tropes page would be greatly appreciated. Let us know what you think!

Also, special thanks to edCOM02 over at DeviantArt who created a piece of fanart for this story, showing Superman catching Ruby when she first arrived on Earth all the way back in Chapter 2. Go to his page on DeviantArt and check it out!

See you all next time!