Chapter 6, Pleasant Conversations


"I assume you would be Junior?"

Hakke had begun to walk down the shallow staircase leading towards the rather large and rather angry group gathered there, stopping halfway down to ask his question. It appeared he had stumbled into something of a tense standoff between Junior and the two younger women beside him and the gang of Blue suits. What their dispute was about he couldn't imagine caring about if he tried. Just as long as it didn't boil over and affect him.

"Who's asking?" Junior growled up at him.

"A customer. And not the kind who's looking for a drink." While on their hike, Callie had managed to dredge up enough evidence that pointed to this particular bar being a hotspot for criminal elements, beyond the burner Scroll in their possession, that is. Little details, scandals being swept under the rug, rumors about known criminal elements in attendance, that sort of thing. Junior ran a tight ship and was exceptionally adept at keeping the rumor mill from turning about his Club, but it was impossible to cover up everything.

Junior's face shifted slightly. The bearded giant was still pissed, but it was apparent that Hakke was no longer the target.

"You picked the wrong time to stop by then." Junior began, before stopping himself. "No, I take that back. Perfect timing. Give me a second and I'll meet you over at the bar." Junior jerked a thumb back at an onyx strip of bar parallel to the right wall.

Hakke nodded, and began to make his way over there. So far so good. He just hoped that the strip had a cash register or the Remnant equivalent. With any luck, he would be able to slip Callie behind the counter to find some Lien. Then it would be easy to manufacture some of his own.

He reached the bottom of the stairs when Tank Top decided to act up.

"Hey, where do you think you're going? Junior, we ain't done here, not by a longshot. You can't blow us off that easy."

"I can and will. Now you and your boys have exactly ten seconds to get the hell out of my bar before I throw you out!"

Hakke picked up the pace. Thankfully he didn't have to pass by the Blue boys by any real margin in order to get to the designated bar. They looked like the sort to resort to violence over anything else. He doubted they would pose much of a problem, but they certainly would make his time here in the Club harder. The place had just been trashed, it looked like.

He doubted Junior would be too happy with another brawl.

He strode across to the bar, taking a moment to see if any of Junior's goons were nearby as he went. He turned, facing back out towards the floor and leaning against the counter. He hoped he looked nice and casual.

Callie meanwhile materialized, the tell tale flash hidden by the tail of his duster, before silently flying around the end of the bar and behind it. Hopefully she would find something useful back there. While a sample of Lien was the priority, there was a chance she could find information instead. Whether that was blackmail or info regarding the Crown thieves really didn't matter too much. Either was good.

The argument continued back at the stairs.

"Gods damn it Junior, you don't know what you're throwing away here! This here is the only time we're gonna even try to make a deal like this. After today, you'll be on your own. The only one in the whole damn city without Boost." Tank Top continued, seemingly oblivious to the ever growing ring of Black suited goons backing up their boss. "Your guys will be even more useless than they already are! And all for what? A little Lien off of Mr. Nobody over there?"

Junior towered over the man, and said something quietly. Hakke could only see the giant's back, but judging from Tank Top's face, whatever it was had been less than pleasant. The lanky man finally seemed to concede, finally acknowledging the growing odds against him. He made a gesture to the rest of his men, and they all began to file up the stairs to leave the building. Tank Top lingered a moment, his eyes lingering on Hakke for a second longer than the Warlock was comfortable with, before the man turned his head away with a sneer.

He figured that there would be a problem with them later.

Hakke muttered under his breath, as carefully as he could. "How are we looking, Callie?"

His earpiece chimed. "I think I found some, but I need time. I'll let you know as soon as it's ready and in your bag."

"Wonderful."

Looked like he would need to do some delaying.

Junior and his two oddly dressed and oddly armed bodyguards watched the Blue Suits leave, before the giant turned to the rest of his crew.

"Well? Get back to it, this place isn't going to repair itself."

With that they began to make their approach. Hakke braced himself mentally, going over the talking points in his head. This was a new situation he found himself in. Usually, his job was to go in and act on information, not be the one out gathering it. Truth be told, outside of obtaining bounties and haggling with gunsmiths, he had practically no real world experience with, well, this.

Uncharted territory and all that.

Thankfully, it seemed that Junior was far happier to deal with him than he was dealing with the Blue boys. If the Warlock was careful, he figured he could use that to his advantage easy enough.

"Sorry about that. Some people just don't know when they're no longer welcome." Junior walked around the other side of the bar, to Hakke's light panic. He watched the giant, trying to keep his face neutral and watch for any indication he saw Callie. If he did, he didn't show it.

"You can say that, alright. Who were they, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You don't know?"

"Not off the top of my head." Hakke admitted.

Junior reached down under the bar, pulling out a square bottle and two glasses. The two women bodyguards hadn't followed him behind the bar, instead making themselves comfortable on either side of Hakke. Their intent was clear. If he tried anything, they would be able to react instantly. Judging by their strange fashion sense and even stranger weapons, he guessed they were Huntsmen. Or Huntresses. Or huntsmen-adjacent. Whatever.

That had been the main thing that had stood out to Hakke during Callie's info dump on the walk in. They were easy to pick out of a crowd for much the same reason you could pick a Guardian out of a crowd. Both were fond of dressing to impress, although Huntsmen seemed to favor cloth over armor. And both were always heavily armed. Even if the weapons of choice for Huntsmen seemed to be more outlandish.

Junior hummed to himself, and poured a shot in each glass. "You seem to know who I am. But I don't know you. Drink?"

"No thanks. I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't here for a drink."

"Fair enough. Why are you here?"

"I'm looking for someone."

That, as it turned out, was the wrong thing to say. The more relaxed stance that the man had taken fell away, and was replaced with irritation.

"Really. And who would that be?"

To his sides, the two women repositioned themselves, acting off of their boss. It seemed like an innocent enough way to begin his inquiry, so he was unsure why they were reacting with immediate escalation.

"Well, it's more like several someones." Hakke elaborated, pulling out Slick's Scroll and putting it on the counter. The device was in its collapsed position, with its two separate metal borders connected. Hardlight tech seemed to have some serious advantages in making things compact.

"A little while ago I ran into a trio of individuals. This," Hakke tapped the Scroll, "belonged to a certain man on that team. Slicked back black hair, pinstripe suit, had a toothpick in his mouth. Didn't catch his name, but his companions went by Doc and Sage. Now, you wouldn't happen to know where I might be able to find this guy, would you?"

Junior picked up the Scroll, giving it a quick look over. Whatever they had been anticipating didn't seem to come, to Hakke's relief. If he had to get in a fight, he'd much prefer to have bullets in his guns. He still had his Light, and with Callie's assistance, he would be able to use it to a far better extent than he was against the Crown thieves, even with the Barrier taken into account. That said, his guns were his tools. And no Guardian would willingly get into a proper fight without their tools.

Not including Titans, of course.

Those maniacs preferred punching things.

"I might know the crew you're referring to. Still, I am a bit curious what this is about." He said, holding up the Scroll.

"I have reason to believe he bought it from you. I figured I'd return it to him. Seems like the kind of thing he'd want back."

"You might be right there. Now, here's the real question. If I did know something, why should I tell you? I don't know who you are, and the last time someone I didn't know came in looking for someone they decided to smash up the place when they didn't like my answer."

Junior leaned in, placing the Scroll back on the counter where Hakke grabbed it. "So. Why should I tell you anything?"

Hakke considered for a moment. "For starters, I don't intend on breaking anything in here. Double up that I'm willing to pay for the details, and I'm not sure what else you'd need. I'm here for a simple transaction from a known professional. Nothing more, nothing less. Is that something you can work with?"

That seemed to do the trick. It certainly didn't answer Junior's question in any meaningful way, but it did seem to readjust his viewpoint back to that of a merchant.

"Yeah, I can work with that. This crew you're looking for, I do know a little something about them. They're a mercenary band, always moving from one city to the next. They like staying quiet when they aren't on the job, but I should be able to put out some feelers for them on your behalf."

"Sounds good to me. What are we looking at?"

"Thousand Lien up front."

Hakke considered. He had no idea how much money that actually was. His first instinct was to compare it to Glimmer, but even then, his metrics for judging the value of Glimmer were completely off compared to a regular civilian. He could buy a decent, small jumpship from the Shipwright Amanda Holliday for around 5,000 Glimmer, but that told him nothing, as Remnant didn't have any jumpships to compare prices off of as far as he knew. Silver and Bright Dust came to mind, but they were an even worse comparison, as the only merchant he knew of who traded in them was Tess Everis.

He refused to think about that profit-hungry shark.

He had two options then, pretend like 1,000 Lien was a great deal, or pretend that it was too much. He could play either off well enough, as both would be equally fake.

He just wished Callie had figured out something by now.

He went for it. "A thousand? Little steep for a starting cost." At the very least he could fall back on the ancient and time honored art of haggling.

"No it's not. If anything, it's cheap. Finding people who specifically don't want to be found isn't exactly easy. The only reason I'm offering a price this good is because you caught me in a good mood."

Once again, Hakke had no point of reference. 1,000 Lien may have been enough to buy ramen from a street vendor, or it could have been enough to buy and refurbish a Cabal freighter. At the very least, now that the talks had devolved into actual haggling, the two bodyguards were rapidly and noticeably losing interest in the conversation at hand. The one in the white dress even grabbed the glass that Junior had poured for him.

"Call it 850, and we have a deal." Hakke said, ignoring the Huntresses.

"This isn't a negotiable price."

"Well, you can't blame a guy for trying. Fine. 1,000 Lien. But before I cough that up, how long of a timetable are we looking at?"

"Time is a concern? That will make things more expensive. It's doable, but I will need to grease some extra palms along the way."

Of course it would. He sent a mental ping to Callie, one that they had long ago decided meant 'hurry up'. The negotiations were winding down, and he doubted he would get any further if he didn't have any money on hand to show.

"How much extra are we talking about?" His plan was to get Junior talking details as long as possible. The giant struck him as the sort that liked money; an exploitable feature for the time being.

"An extra 500 up front."

"250."

Junior sighed. "Are we really going to go through this again?"

"Hell yeah we are. Base price is what it is. Now we're talking about peripherals. You haven't told me anything about how fast you can get me results from your base price. How much faster would you be able to work with an added 250, compared to 500."

"The higher the cost, the faster you'll get their location. I can't say specifically how long of course, however, I can make an educated guess. If they're in Vale, I can confirm their whereabouts in a few days, easy enough. With extra, I can cut a day or two off that time, or half a day. Depending."

Hakke stopped, and did his best to look like he was truly weighing his options. In reality he was sending more mental pings Callie's way. If she didn't come in soon, things were going to get complicated.

A ping sounded in his own mind, closely followed by another. Confirmation and a 'Go' signal respectively, followed by the sensation of the Ghost returning to his Backpack. Hakke thanked the Traveler.

"Fine. 1,250 and you have a deal." Hakke said.

He reached into his satchel bag and rummaged for a moment, delaying for a moment more as Callie manufactured several thin plastic cards in his hand. He placed them on the bar counter with a light click. The cards were slightly larger than business cards, and his Visitor's ID, with a stylized rendition of the planet in the middle, and different colors to indicate value. Junior took them and looked them over, apparently finding the newly 'minted' Lien up to his standards before pocketing it.

"I believe that takes care of that. I'll leave you to get down to business, then." Hakke said, and began to walk back towards the stairs, before Junior called out once more.

"I still need a name from you, and a way to keep in touch."

The Warlock stopped and turned. "Hakke. I'll be back in a day or two." So far so good. Not the absolute best response he could have gotten, but it was better than he had honestly been expecting. There hadn't been a fight at least. If he fought and died here, it'd make things exceptionally harder for him. Guardians didn't exist here, and he didn't want to inadvertently warn his adversaries that he was on their trail by getting killed and coming back in a place full of witnesses.

"Now what?" he whispered under his breath.

"We keep looking on our own. I wasn't able to find Junior's contact network when I was snooping around, I just didn't have the time. So while he works his end, we'll try our luck outside. We should also find you something to eat. Just because I can make you not feel hunger doesn't mean you aren't literally starving to death." Callie said.

Oh right. Food. He did need that.

He walked out of the Club and onto the deserted streets. It was well past midnight at this point, maybe the people here valued their sleep more than the people of the City. He knew for a fact that the Last City never truly slept, he had patrolled plenty of streets in the aftermath of the Red War to verify that. Still, Vale should have had a nightlife of some variety, in his opinion. Vale wasn't as large as the Last City, so that might have played into it somewhat. Or maybe this wasn't the best neighborhood for it, at least not with the Club down and out for the time being.

"Hakke?" Callie said over his earpiece.

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you. You managed a whole conversation with normal people without coming off as threatening, uninterested, or a total psychopath! Ahh, it warms my mechanical heart to see you grow!"

"Thanks, Callie. I'm glad I impress." Hakke said, a sarcastic grin beginning to form on his face. "Gotta ask though, how much glimmer did this venture set us back?"

"Surprisingly little. The cards themselves are very easy to manufacture, and at a premium given that I can program their value. Still, we shouldn't go overboard making Lien with such a premium resource."

"Agreed. See if you can find a diner or food stand or something, then we can work on finding a base of operations. I really want to get that new auto rifle up and running."

"Can do! Now let's see what's still open... wait. Behind us. I think we're being followed."

Hakke looked over his shoulder and saw exactly what he expected to see. About a block down the street and approaching him at a steady pace was Tank Top and his Blue suited goons with an assortment of hand weapons out.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

If he had to make a guess, they had a bone to pick with him for 'getting them kicked out of the Club', or some other idiotic justification. Disregard that they were on their way out the door when he walked in. That, at least, was the impression he had gotten off of them when they had finally left.

If they wanted a fight, he'd be more than happy to give it to them. A brawl in the Club had had the potential to end up as a disaster for him. This, however, held no such ramifications. He had been on the back foot ever since he wandered down into the Arcology looking for that Guardian, and had suffered one setback after another. First the Hive ambush that killed the Guardian he was looking for, probably that is, and pulled him all the way here. And directly into yet another ambush where he had been shot, beaten, and eventually torn to pieces by a pack of feral monsters. Then literal days of nonstop fighting to the death through uneven terrain and against more breeds of black and white monsters than he knew what to do with. Getting his name messed up in official documents. No ammo. No support. Broken weapons. Painful deaths. Haggling and social encounters. Bureaucrats. Hakke was positively itching for a fight.

This promised to be downright therapeutic.

He waited for them to get closer before speaking.

"Let me guess. You're here to teach me a lesson in humility or something stupid like that."

"Damn straight ya gods shamed creep." Tank Top called out. "The hell do you think you are, some kind of discount private eye with that stupid long coat? Some kinda gumshoe? Tell you what you are, just some gum to scrape off my shoe."

The Blue Suits make an assortment of jeering laughs at their leaders' bold sense in humor. Hakke meanwhile blinked in disbelief at the genius he had just been exposed to.

"Okay. That was a new one. Gotta give you that at least." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Do you just... run around half naked as an aesthetic thing? I just can't wrap my head around that decision."

"What, you making fun of me? Fun of us?"

"Yeah."

"Are you not taking us seriously?"

"No."

"Well, I wasn't looking for a fight, but if you aren't gonna show us some respect-"

"Oh yes you were, Tank Top. So let's get this over with, shall we?"

Tank Top leaned back and pulled some sort of long, segmented silver pole off of his belt. Including Tank Top, there were five Blue Suits in front of him, all of average build except one large man with a pair of goat horns coming out the top of his head. A Faunus, Hakke guessed. Two men had half-meter long swords, their curved edges lined with a neon red material he didn't recognize. There was a woman wearing sunglasses with two red edged tomahawk axes. Goat Horns just had a pair of gloves that had had a plate of formed steel attached to the knuckles.

"A'ight lads, get that son of a bitch."

Hakke got ready.

The two swordsmen closed the distance first, with Axes following and Horns taking up the rear. Tank Top held back, watching.

Hakke knocked the first wild overhead sword swing out of the way and jabbed a fist into the man's face, followed up by a hard right hook that snapped the man's head back as he tumbled over. The second swordsman was better, sending several well aimed slashes at Hakke's midsection that forced him back further down the street. The man pressed the advantage, and stabbed forth with the sword. Hakke twisted and let it pass, trapping the blade between his torso and arm. One more twisting motion, and Hakke tore the blade from the man's hands, grabbing the handle and slicing out at the disarmed swordsman.

The slash was stopped by a red tomahawk, as Axes hooked the blade in turn, allowing the standing swordsman to send a roundhouse kick into Hakke's face instead.

With two people on him, and Horns bearing down fast, Hakke needed to clear some room between himself and his opponents. For that, there was nothing like the tried and true. The Warlock wrenched the sword free, launching a palm strike at Axes. It hit her in the shoulder, sending her flying back into a light post with a dull thud.

He flipped the sword around in his hand, and struck out with the blunt edge against its previous owner. The man blocked it and the next strike with his forearms before trying to grab one of Hakke's arms in a bid to regain control of his weapon. The man kicked at the Warlock's foot, sliding it along the concrete and throwing off the Warlock's balance just in time for a sledgehammer-like blow to come crashing into the side of Hakke's head.

He fell to one knee, and received a knee to the chin courtesy of the man he had disarmed and a large hand grabbing him by the back collar of his coat. Horns had a wonderful hold on him, and heaved him against the brick wall of a building before winding up for another heavy punch. Hakke ducked down and to the side in the nick of time, Horn's fist just barely scraping through the Warlock's hair as it smashed its way into the wall.

Continuing down, Hakke hooked the sword behind the big man's knee, raising it up and to the side and toppling the man to the ground. He repositioned himself, getting out of the corner the wall made and back out into the open of the street.

So far things weren't too bad. They could definitely have gone better, but not too bad. The hits he had taken had been hard, but far from debilitating. Unfortunately the same could be said for the hits he had given them. He hadn't seen any aura spark off of them, if that was how that worked, leading Hakke to the uncomfortable conclusion that Remnant natives may just be tougher than he thought.

The disarmed swordsman charged forward, before launching himself up to an impressive height for a spinning kick. One that never landed, as Hakke launched him backwards just as fast with another palm strike.

If there was one truth to the world, it was that Hakke never got tired of ragdolling his opponents with a trusty palm strike. It was never not entertaining.

The other three goons were all up at this point and making their way over to him, Axes in the lead. Behind them Tank Top scowled, not enjoying the show.

Axes lay into him with a startling amount of speed that the Warlock found he was unable to properly match. Many of her blows he was able to deflect or knock aside with either a well timed swipe or with his sword, but many others rained down on him. They hurt plenty, but they didn't bite through his armor, Light or fabric.

Finally, he saw an opening. A quick upper slash through the whirlwind of axes followed by a hard hit with the handle of the sword to her sternum and she backed out of the melee, clutching at the base of her neck. A final front kick sent her flying back, hopefully down for the count.

Roaring, Horns charged forward with another haymaker. Hakke ducked under his opponent's fist, and slammed the hilt of the sword into the man's side, under his arm, and finally into the back of his head. The man retaliated by wrapping his arms around Hakke's torso, lifting, and then crashing Hakke headfirst into the asphalt in a picture perfect suplex.

He rolled to his feet and out of the way of a wild swing from the first swordsman. He blocked the next few strikes, perplexed, as the man thrashed at him with zero thought or skill. He had to give it to the guy, he seemed to be having a blast. A blast that stopped when Hakke grabbed the man's blue tie, using it as leverage to make his own punch significantly harder. The fact that Hakke's fist was reinforced from holding a solid object didn't help much either.

With Horns returning to his feet, Hakke took a quick headcount of his adversaries. Both swordsmen seemed to be down, clutching at various body parts. Axes was up, but only on a technicality. She was propped up on her side, warily watching the fight and making no move to re engage. Tank Top meanwhile looked absolutely livid.

Horns took up a boxer's stance, and approached. Hakke adjusted the grip on his sword, holding it blade down to better use the hilt as a smashing weapon.

These grunts had proven surprisingly durable, not as durable as the Crown thieves had been, but not too shabby either. Even with their edged weapons they didn't pose a serious enough threat for him to resort to lethal violence.

Horns charged once again. Hakke threw his sword like a frisbee at the man's legs, tripping the faunus up. He stumbled forward and received a hard kick to his stomach, doubling him over just enough for Hakke to bring his knee and elbow crashing into his head simultaneously. As the man collapsed, the Warlock turned to look at the last man standing.

The Titans were on to something, Hakke decided. Guns were great and all, but there was something viscerally satisfying about a good fistfight.

Tank Top was grinding his teeth in anger, fumbling with both the metal rod he had pulled earlier, and something in one of his pockets. Hakke lifted both arms up a little, palms out, in the universal 'is that it?' signal before letting them drop down to his sides.

"You know, My job was to give this Boost stuff to some competition so they could find out how good it was." Tank Top began, fishing out a small, complicated looking device and a small matte black case. "I think I'm gonna use it to paint this street a new color. Gumshoe red. How's that sound?"

The lanky man opened the case, pulling out a small vial of something, slotting it into his device, and jamming it into his side. Hakke's eyes narrowed. The Vial had been glowing green. A very particular, sickly green. Tank Top let out a pained grunt, and tilted his head to one side with an audible popping sound.

"Ooh. Hot damn, does that have a kick!" Tank Top let out a whoop, and with a solid clang, the rod unfurled into a long staff.

Oh. He was a Huntsmen.

That explained the stupid attire.

It also explained why the man was able to close the gap between them faster than a freight train.

He barely had time to register what the hell was happening before Tank Top was on him, slingshotting the end of his staff directly into Hakke's stomach. The air completely emptied from his lungs as he was launched backwards head over heels. Before he had even stopped skidding along the ground the man was on him again, his staff furled back into a club that he was mercilessly slamming into him.

Hakke somehow managed to regain his footing, desperately throwing punches and palm strikes at his enemy, only for Tank Top to either dodge or use them as leverage to wail on him more.

If Horns was akin to being hit by a sledgehammer, Tank Top was akin to being rammed by a sparrow. He'd known that Aura allowed Huntsmen to be stronger than normal, faster than normal, but he hadn't expected this. The man had turned into a bone breaking blur of strikes and kicks, staff hits and punches. Desperate, Hakke threw one last punch, only to have Tank Top grab hold and use his momentum to literally throw him over four meters back into the side of a building.

Gasping, Hakke began to pull himself up, the familiar stretching feel of his body being repaired by Light cascading over everything. He stared out at a manically launching Tank Top, who was yelling in celebration at the top of his lungs.

His cohorts weren't though. They looked outright scared.

Tank Top stopped laughing, and gave Hakke a smile that was mostly teeth. A smile that Hakke barely noticed. It was the eyes that caught his attention now.

They had changed, turning a sickly, lightly glowing green. A green that Hakke was more than familiar with. The same tone of green that could be found in the deep ravines of Luna, Earth's moon.

Hive Green.

What the hell had he done to himself?

"Ain't that a kick in the pants!" the man roared. "I'm going to SNAP you in HALF, Gumshoe! Tear you APART!"

Once again, Hakke wondered what he had done to piss Lady Luck off to this extent.

With a wordless howl the man charged forward with his staff held like a spear. Hakke channeled the light into his legs, leaping over the blow just as the staff embedded in the wall. He kicked off the wall, gaining momentum to return to the middle of the street, aiming for a manhole cover he spotted there. As he passed over the man he threw his hand out casting a wave of Celestial Fire, once again fighting to pierce through the Barrier.

He figured going lethal was more than called for here.

Tank Top skittered out of the way. "Full of surprises, aint'cha?"

Hakke hit the ground in a roll, sliding over the manhole cover and tearing it out of the ground. Tank Top was already on his way, but Hakke needed him nearly on top of him for his ploy to work. The maniac leaped, looking to get over Hakke's makeshift shield as Hakke threw every scrap of Light he could muster into a palm strike, slamming the ball of concentrated reality into the cover.

It worked like a charm, launching the cover straight up and into the unsuspecting torso of Tank Top, who howled as it ricochet off of him. Hakke grabbed it out of the air by its rim, before slamming the heavy metal edge first onto Tank Top, the hit being absorbed by the man's aura.

He brought it up again, but Tank Top was faster, sliding along the ground and swiping Hakke's legs out from under him. His enemy was on him almost instantly, hands wrapped around his throat in a vice like grip. He struggled to tear the man's hands off, but he couldn't budge him. The maniac's glowing green eyes burned down at him, watching him with a hunger that he had only seen one place else. He was hungry for Hakke's death.

Nah, not today.

Hakke focused on the Light, letting it pool throughout his body to a critical mass and willed a sword made of flame to appear in his hand. It didn't. Instead, the Light crashed into the Barrier and went mad, forming a critical mass, a pulsating glow of solar potential pouring out of his body and into reality. It poured out of him in an uncontrollable, horrible fashion.

Hakke exploded.

Tank Top screamed as raw paracausal energy formed and detonated directly in his face. It should have killed him. Torn him down to his fundamental particles and scattered his remains to the wind. Instead, he flew backwards, unnatural flames tearing at his Aura.

Much to his own surprise, Hakke was not dead. The fire had burned him, but it hadn't destroyed him. He was still in this fight.

He'd figure out what the hell that was later.

Hakke rolled out of the patch of half melted asphalt and tar before getting up, enjoying the sensation of not being on fire from the inside out. His opponent meanwhile had a green Aura visibly swirling around his body, which eventually faded before he returned Hakke's gaze.

The green in his eyes had died down. Not all the way, but by a measured amount.

"Okay then." Hakke said.

"Alright."

Tank Top began striking out with his staff again, noticeably slower than he had been just moments ago. He was still far faster than his team had been, but he wasn't a maelstrom of pain anymore. It turned into a slog of violence, each throwing out as much as they were taking. Tank Top's staff swirled out more than once, catching Hakke in the ribs, in the knee, and finally hitting his head with an audible crack, leaving the Warlock seeing stars. Another swing caught the Warlock in the neck, tossing him aside and flat on his back.

"You stupid… Son of a …" Tank Top began, slurring out the words.

As Hakke once again rose to one knee, Tank Top vaulted off of the ground, using his staff to gather momentum for a heavy axe kick. Hakke watched his heel come down towards his shoulder, rising slightly to meet it. He reached out as it hit, falling back down to absorb some of the blow and more importantly, giving himself plenty of time to grab his leg, pivot, and swing Tank Top like a pickaxe into the concrete of the road.

The man face planted with a brutally satisfying crunch, before Hakke spun about and did it again, using the man as a hammer to break the road with before finally heaving him across the road sideways.

He had dropped his staff weapon, so Hakke picked it up, looking it over. It was a simple enough device by the look of it, an indented button on the side to control its extension. Staff in hand, he turned to face his opponent once more. The green miasma covered him once again, before clearing out into a pale yellow. Tank Top got up, and tried to affix Hakke with a death glare.

"That's mine." He said, pointing at the staff.

"Then come get it." Hakke said, collapsing the staff down to the length of a baton. He figured now was as good a time as any to end this.

Tank Top threw a right hook. Hakke dipped left, hooking his right arm around his opponents and extending the staff on the left. Arm caught in a lever between Hakke's own arm and the staff, he wrenched down and broke it, and the man's Aura. To finalize, he hooked his leg behind Tank Top's, and slammed the staff into his neck, throwing the man to the ground.

He backed up slightly, the end of the staff pointed at Tank Top who was miraculously still conscious. The man lay there for a moment, stunned, before collecting himself just enough to scrabble back away from the Warlock, and eventually get up and run, right arm hanging limply.

The other Blue Suits turned to follow their leader, Horns picking up the swordsman who had been knocked unconscious. Hakke stood in the street and watched them go.

"Any reason you're letting them get away?" Callie asked.

"That crap that Tank Top used. That turned his eyes green. The hell was it?"

"I don't know. But I've viewed footage of professional Huntsmen in combat before, I don't think he was supposed to be able to move like that."

"Something about this isn't right. Callie, can you follow them? We need to know where they're going, where they got that vial."

She paused before responding. "Sure, I can do that. You should get off the street for the time being. No use in you getting arrested for noise complaints or anything along those lines before Junior finds something out for us."

"Can do. Actually, give me updates on where they are so I can follow from the roof tops."

Callie materialized in front of him, looking at him with concern before she turned her lights off and flew into the sky to pursue.

They were here looking for a Hive artifact.

And they had just met someone with a vial of something that made people act like Hive.

It didn't take him long to find an alley with a ladder that led high enough for him to reach a roof. While Callie was far faster, he was able to listen to her callouts and pursue from above.

It was shaping up to be a long night.


A/N

Figured it was about time for me to appear from the ether.
First of, to every one of you crazy boyos that've taken a look, read, reviewed, etc, this story here. Thank you. Its a wild feeling to know there are folks out there who are getting a kick out of it. At 30k words, this has officially become the longest writing project I have ever attempted, period. Didn't expect that to take the form of a fanfic, but the world works in mysterious ways.
I also intend to start actually responding to reviews and the like. Should have done that from the beginning.
I'd like to take this moment to vent a little bit about how incredibly frustrating it is that there is no official timeline with dates and crap for RWBY. That and the lack of background information on just about everything, from the function of Lien to the defenses of actual civilization. If there's any good resource for that sort of thing outside of the Wiki/show itself, please for the love of god let me know.

Otherwise, the last few pieces of the plot have been put into motion. Now lets see just how badly they affect Remnant.

- RangoTango