AUTHOR NOTE

Wow, thank you for all the support for this story. It's genuinely amazing. Before I lose you all for what I've done this chapter, I'd like to address a couple of points/comments/questions.

First, the elephant in the room, the big problem... I spelt Vergil as Virgil last chapter. I...I... I can't even comprehend how this slipped past me. I spend so long on the Wiki, making sure I get certain things right, and I mess up the name? Wow. I've gone back and changed it but seriously... wow.

RED DUSK 369: I too believe it's dumb when the new universe inserts explain everything to Ozpin for no discernible reason. Even Dante would be a bit cautious in a new dimension and Vergil is more likely to become a pacifist. While the brothers will be spending some time at Beacon, interacting with the teams, they are both still proactive with their own goals, not to mention valuable pieces for Ozpin (even if he doesn't know/trust them entirely).

Otakufreak225: Thank you, rest assured neither brother would outright lose to Qrow. Not to say that Qrow wouldn't be able to do some damage though. He is a top tier fighter in rwby and with a dangerous semblance. There's a line in this chapter where Vergil eludes to his strength compared to the top tier he's seen so far. Although, without their devil triggers, Dante and Vergil won't be 1 shotting everyone... just most people. Also, when I say blue for Vergil's coat, I mean the blue accents/patterns that look amazing.

StGian21: Thank you, for some reason I imagine Vergil enjoying being a little sh*t to Glynda. I think it's their personalities.

OneYuTriSlayers: ...Mostly working together. Some habits are just hard to break.

theunknownjoe: Thank you. When they both backhanded Nero, this new brotherly bond just felt right to me.

Uknownguy78: "Hey, let me tell you my backstory, with every terrible thing I've ever done included so you can manipulate me dumbledor style through this entire story!" Yeah, no. Vergil and Dante are no ones b*tch. Not to say they won't help, but they'll do it their way, and it will be their decision who to trust.

N3R0-4NG3L0: Since it's not a spoiler, yes Dant has his devil arm. Which are (to my knowledge): His big f**k off sword, gauntlets/greaves, the fantastic hat, and his pistols. Meanwhile, Vergil has Yamato, his gauntlets/greaves, and his summoned swords. Basically their DMC5 arsenals.

Kabuto S. Inferno: Thank you. I'm trying to keep interactions as in character as possible. Let me know if you think I slip up :).

Reddevil47: I have not reverted their ages. With Nero being around his early 20's at a guess, I personally estimate them to be in their mid to late 40s. While not that young anymore, I'd say being Physically active and half-demons (which may or may not mean they age slower), their age shouldn't be a problem. Effectively, minus some interworld tomfoolery with their devil triggers, they are both relatively in their prime.

FerunaLutelou: There are plenty of reasons why powers we have no way of quantifying by human means don't work when they cross the boundaries of space of time through unknown means into a world with different elements and laws of physics than our own from a hell portal. Or maybe I'm just being illogical.

Drake Serr: I don't mention their age specifically in this chapter, but as I stated above, late '40s to early '50s seems like a decent guess (depending on how long you think they spent in hell). A few characters I think describe them as middle-aged men. There has been no de ageing, but possibly half-demon slow ageing. Either way, I want to stress that their age does in NO WAY make them any less of gods in combat.

Now, I know I'm going to get some complaints about decisions in this chapter. I welcome comments and will be more than willing to answer questions.


Chapter 2: World Black and White

"I'm just going to get some air," Weiss strived to keep the pleading from her voice as she tried to pull her arm from her father's vice-like grip. A laughably fake smile and a mildly sexist joke later Jacques released her.

Rather than reply in kind, Weiss kept quiet like she was trained to, slinking away without a word. She hated these parties. They were self-pleasing, egotistical, boasting events where she was paraded around like a prize peacock. Worst part? Weiss' lovely father had at least three more planned before she could leave for Beacon.

The opportunistic git was punishing her for sure. Every event Jacques would talk about cross-kingdom cooperation. About how Vale was lucky to have a Schnee visiting, how Weiss could have gone anywhere and Weiss volunteered to go.

That last one was often accompanied by a half-hidden glare in her general direction. Jacques Schnee was not pleased. In fact, the only reason he was likely allowing Weiss to go was that the public 'somehow' found about her plans to go.

But just because Jacques couldn't keep her here without losing face, it didn't mean he wasn't going to drag Weiss to every Gala he could before she left.

At least there was no chance of Weiss joining the Atlas military after graduation. Despite being... friends, Weiss was pretty sure Jacques hadn't forgiven general Ironwood for 'taking' Winter.

"Miss Schnee," speak of the devil.

"General Ironwood," Weiss turned and gave a respectful nod which the General returned. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"You as well," James stated, standing at ease. "I caught your concert earlier, you have a rather beautiful voice. It's a pity we're losing you to Beacon."

"Yes, well I just felt it might help… broaden my horizons to get out of Atlas for a while." Weiss hoped her polite smile would ward off any implied insult.

"You needn't worry," James waved off quickly, reading the heiress like an open book. "I know from Winter how… difficult it can be here." His glance towards Jacques didn't go unnoticed by Weiss. "Ozpin will be lucky to have you if your half the fighter your sister was when she joined Atlas academy."

"I will endeavour to prove myself worthy of her legacy," Weiss replied with a more genuine smile.

"On the note of Beacon, there's someone I want to introduce you to," Weiss' eyes sparked at the Generals words. "He's…"

"General?" Weiss wanted to know who this person was. Needed to know really. Atlas was more stifling by the day, and she could use any glimpse of the outside to help keep her going.

Following the General's eye line, Weiss saw him looking at her father. Wait… no. He was looking at where her father was making his way towards. Mingling and chatting with guests, Jacques was moving towards a man Weiss had only glimpsed earlier.

He was tall, middle-aged, with an air of elegance in every action he took. Leaning against the wall, the man was currently reading a leatherbound book, not noticing or caring about her father's approach.

"Excuse me miss Schnee," there was urgency in his voice, as well as a hint of… panic? Enough for Weiss' curiosity to be peaked as she followed the General at a respectable distance, as he marched across the Gala as fast as civilised society allowed.

"Jacques!" Weiss could see the General's shoulders relax just a bit at catching her father metres away from the other man.

"James," Jacques's eyes narrowed briefly at Weiss before returning his gaze to Ironwood. "Not trying to steal another one of my daughters, are you?" It was phrased as a joke, but Weiss tensed; hearing the underlining resentment in the statement.

"No," Ironwood chuckled, knowing Jacques still blamed him for leading his eldest 'astray'. "I was just congratulating her on getting into Beacon, and saying how extravagant this Gala is. You've really outdone yourself."

"But of course," Jacques preened as his ego was stroked. Not even noticing as Ironwood subtly started to lead him away from the other man. "And Weiss could have gotten into any of the academies. She is a Schnee after all."

"I'm sure Ozpin can keep here challenged," Ironwood replied. "He can be a fair but harsh taskmaster."

"My daughter will excel I assure you," Jacques stated, leaving no room for argument. "If not I'll have to contact Ozpin myself. Just because he's getting the opportunity to order around one Schnee doesn't mean he should forget where the power in our relationship lies. After all without the dust my-"

"Pathetic."

Weiss could see Ironwood's whole body stiffen as the cold voice echoed through the air.

"What did you say?" Jacques asked, dumbfounded at the stranger's gall.

"I said, pathetic," the white-haired stranger in a black and blue coat stated again as he closed his book. "As in, it's pathetic you believe money and dust give you true power." Apathetic blue eyes locked onto her father now, who was either too prideful or stubborn to acknowledge the fear they instilled.

"Vergil-", Ironwood was quickly cut off.

"No real power you say," condescendingly Jacques chuckled at the stupidity of the man in front of him. "Do you think you could still say that if I turn all resources to ruin you. Dragging your name through the mud, making sure you can never buy a speck of dust again," Jacques smiled knowing he had won.

"Do you think you could do that after I remove your head from your shoulders?" The air froze. Her father's smile disappeared as he became increasingly aware of the sheathed sword in Vergil's hand.

"Vergil-", Ironwood tried again only to once again be ignored.

"Tell me," Vergil started as he walked towards Jacques. Every graceful step echoed in their souls as Vergil's cold enraptured them. "Will your company block my blade? Will your lien hold me back? Will your dust lay me low before I kill you here? Insect, do you believe that there is a single man you own capable of stopping me?"

Vergil was barely a foot away from him now. Rooted in place, Weiss would later note that this was the first time he had ever seen her father sweat.

"VERGIL," Ironwood finally interjected, placing himself between the two men. "I won't be able to hold up my end of the bargain if you attack the Schnee's. You don't want to be… inconvenienced because of this, do you?"

Unlike with her father, where Vergil looked at Jacques as apathetically as one would a bug before squashing it, Vergil's eyes showed something else for Ironwood. Respect maybe? Weiss hadn't known him long enough to tell.

"Indeed," Vergil stated after a long second, before walking towards the exit. "Just make sure to honour our accord."

Breathing out, Ironwood watched Jacques grumble about foreigners before slinking away. Once he was out of earshot, the General turned to Weiss.

Not that Weiss noticed; she was still processing what had just happened. That hunter had stood up to his father. And rather than having to back down because of money or threats, the General had to reason him down.

Because it would inconvenience him… Not because Vergil couldn't do it. Not because General Ironwood could stop him. But because it would have been a bother.

The way he moved, there wasn't a single wasted action, and the way Vergil spoke! It was like every word was fact. Unapologetically true, he was… he was…

Everything Weiss wanted to be as a Huntsmen. Sure he was a tad aggressive, but nobody is perfect, not even her! Vergil could stand up to her father, and win, unflinchingly. Weiss wanted to win her family's honour back, she could imagine doing it with the elegance and strength Vergil seemed to exude.

"Sorry about that," Ironwood said, catching Weiss' attention. "I should have known this would happen when I invited him."

"Who is he?" Weiss half-whispered out.

"His name is Vergil, and he was actually the man I wanted you to meet." At Weiss' questioning gaze, he continued. "Winter mentioned you didn't know anyone in Vale, and since he was on a hunt nearby, I thought I'd invite Vergil so you could meet him."

Ironwood internally chuckled at the memory of Winter pacing when she thought he wasn't watching. It was almost adorable to watch Winter worry about her sister then try to hide it for the sake of professionalism. But he was a tin man with a heart, more than happy to help one of his most capable subordinates.

"Both Vergil and his brother have been teachers at Beacon Academy for the past two years." Weiss reviewed Vergil's actions in a whole new light as Ironwood continued. "Despite their… difficult, personalities, if you learn from them, I'm sure you'll be a fine hunter."

"Thank you, General." Weiss, like her father, preened under the praise.

"That said, would you mind guiding Vergil to the exit." Ironwood watched as the man in blue left through the ballroom doors. "I'd hate for the guards to think he's an intruder," left unsaid was the fate of any guard who attacked him.

"Of Course," rushing off, Weiss quickly caught up with her quarry.


Worms. All of them.

Outside the general, Vergil had yet to see a single person of worth at this pathetic gathering. Then to be threatened like a weakling? If it weren't more frustrating to walk back to Vale then perhaps the Schnee dust company would be getting a new CEO after tonight.

"Excuse me," closing his eyes, Vergil resisted the urge to just keep walking. Vergil had heard the clicking heels behind him, hoping it was someone with another purpose, so he could just ignore them.

"Yes," Vergil said, turning to see the young heiress from earlier. Ice cold blue eyes stared through Weiss' very soul, looking at her for the first time. Judging from the concealed shiver, Weiss felt it. Finally, Vergil's eyes settled on the scar over her eye, maybe there was another person worth his time; scars meant combat. While it wasn't deep enough for her to lose her sight, it still indicated she fought something of similar strength, it showed the heiress had pushed her limits.

"Good evening," Weiss curtsied, Vergil politely nodding his head in return. Weiss quelled her nerves and spoke as an heiress should. "I am Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee dust company, I would like to apologise for my father's attitude towards you."

"You needn't worry," Vergil replied. "I do not concern myself with the words of jesters and fools."

"Yes… well, may I walk you to the exit?" Weiss asked. "I would hate for the guards to harass a guest."

After a confirming nod from Vergil, Weiss fell into step beside him, matching Vergil's steady gait. Silence stretched on as the two made their way through the halls.

"Is it true you are a teacher at Beacon Academy?" Weiss asked, unconsciously wringing her hands, at his verification she continued. "I am actually to attend Beacon this year. I just wanted to say that I am looking forward to being under such esteemed tutelage."

"The educators at Beacon are all capable," Vergil replied in a conversational (for him) tone. "Many of them teach as they believe passing on the lessons they've learnt will better prepare you for the world and all its 'horrors'. Protecting the world more by proxy. But each is still, primarily, a warrior. None have them have forgotten what matters."

"I am pleased to hear that," Weiss felt like Vergil's approval was probably a high bar. "Wait, many of the other professors, but not you?"

Vergil grinned, pleased that Weiss had caught that. "Yes, I have other reasons. Ozpin offers me resources for certain… private research I'm conducting." While Vergil saw no reason to hide what was public knowledge amongst both students and staff, though there was no reason to share more. Secrets held power after all. "My brother attends more for the joy of teaching. Also, I suspect, to keep an eye on me. Not to mention, Ozpin offers us more challenging contracts normally held for teams of weaklings to let us keep our skills sharp."

"Is that what you were doing in Atlas, Professor Vergil?"

"Yes," Vergil replied with a satisfied smirk. "I was offered a contract in Sterben Valley."

"STERBEN VALLEY!" Weiss blushed, more in embarrassment than fear, as Vergil glared at her. But really she couldn't be blamed for her screech. Could she? Weiss' father had been trying to set up a dust mine there for years. It was an area some way north of Atlas which had been untouched for generations; most people just went around it.

...Because it was basically an endless pit of Grimm.

As the grim rarely overflowed to the surface, the Atlas military deemed it too resource-intensive to clear, especially with other less dangerous areas to mine. The main reason Weiss' father even wanted to mine there was that her grandfather deemed it impossible. He campaigned to have it cleared, hiring groups of graduated huntsmen to clear it. Huntsmen that never came back triumphant, if they came back at all.

Sterben Valley wasn't difficult to fight at first. Experienced huntsman would clear away waves of weak Grimm with ease as they ventured deeper. Waves that came more frequently until finally, they reached a point of a constant flood of black and white falling upon them. When the Huntsmen tired, trying to retreat, they would find out they were trapped. The tide wasn't against them, but around them entirely; Grimm lining the path to their entrance and bearing down on them.

Emerging from hidden caves, tunnelling beneath and behind them, the Grimm surrounded them, never stopping the assault. Oldest amongst the pit had dwelt in its depths long enough to kill even veterans, primarily exhausted ones. Despite their purpose to destroy humanity, the elder Grimm stayed; they knew humans would always come for the dust.

And they would always be devoured by Sterben Valley.

"W-what was your mission there?" Weiss asked. After all, the only people who came back alive were those who turned back early, Vergil must have had a scouting mission.

"Pest control," Vergil didn't even stop walking. "I was to exterminate every Grimm I found."

"WHAT!?" Weiss screeched. "Who would send a team of Huntsmen there! It's literally a DEATH TRAP!"

"I went alone," Vergil internally chuckled at Weiss gobsmacked expression; it reminded him somewhat of Glynda. "I was all that was needed."

Smiling, Vergil thought back to the fight. It took three days to clear the entire valley…


Like for others, it was too easy at first, frankly boring. Then the Grimm sprung their trap: tunnels opened behind him, black filled the skies, Elder Grimm emerged in their titanic armoured glory. It was hell.

Vergil felt right at home.

Hundreds were cut down as they piled onto him, thick black smoke filling the area like a house on fire as not one scratch touched him. In under a second dozens at a time exploded into unrecognisable chunks of black flesh in a flurry of sword strikes.

One of the three eldest Grimm, giant centipede-like creatures tried to crush him. Dashing back, Vergil entered one of the tunnels that had opened. Where most huntsmen would then be pulverised between the dozens of ambushing Grimm in the shaft and the elder bearing down on them, Vergil was a tornado of death. Emerging on the other side of the tunnel mere moments later, untouched, already slicing down more.

Then the elder Grimm came through, slamming into Vergil. The two other elders moving forward with the firsts head ready to slam the human with their comrade… only to realise in the closest thing Grimm had to horror that the human wasn't there. And that their battle brother of untold centuries was already dead.

It wasn't muscles or determination moving the Grimm, merely momentum. Crashing into the valley wall, the bisected centipede Grimm finally separated, leaving two halves of smoking dead Grimm. Turning to where Vergil was still standing, unmoved, the two elder's felt something they hadn't in untold years.

They felt what it was like to be prey.

A feeling that only intensified as the Grimm pouncing behind Vergil were impaled by summoned swords. Swords he then span, creating a blender for the stream of vultures that descended from the black sky to devour him.

For hours into days, the two sides played a game of cat and vortex of death. The Elder Grimm were confident that, with thousands of Grimm and a terrain advantage, they could kill one human. No team of hunters had ever survived staying in Sterben. A single combatant had no chance.

What they didn't know was that Vergil wasn't like most huntsmen.

While there were Huntsmen semblances strong enough to trade blows with Dante on his best day, or fast enough to race with Vergil on his, none had what made the sons Sparda truly dangerous. Stamina. Especially stamina recovery.

Sure, if you could fight one of them into the ground in a constant battle, you can claim victory. 'IF'. It is, after all, how Dante and Vergil beat each other. But while Aura let you recover from wounds, it was often rather spent after a fight. Huntsmen couldn't pull themselves off their own sword like Dante, then walk around like nothing happened. Similarly: give Vergil seconds and minor damage were gone, a minute he was practically untouched, ten? It was like he was never in a fight at all.

Of course, the weakness of this recovery was exertion. If Vergil or Dante were fighting, then generally they weren't healing, so most human opponents had to be defeated first. But Grimm? In the smoke of their countless deaths and their own twisting tunnels, Vergil was able to keep himself from exhaustion.

Despite his moments of recovery, the Grimm's near-constant attacks had been wearing on him. A rare ache in his bones reminded him of how long the fight had gone on for. At one point, a frog-like rhino was going to get past his sword only to meet his gauntlet.

Sheathing Yamato, Vergil used Beowulf (a set of black wolf-like gauntlets and greaves) to tear through his opponents. Precision punches smashed through bone plate while he masterfully blocked and parried any blows he didn't decide to outright dodge.

With the man resorting to his fists, the Grimm thought Vergil was on his last legs. Emerging from the ground, one of the elder Grimm created a new tunnel with black predators flooding towards Vergil to finish him.

The elder Grimm would have seen them all explode into pieces the moment Vergil touched his sword with a victorious smirk. Would have… if it wasn't for that same sword lodged in its eyes. As the centipede reeled back in pain, a quick crescent swing from Vergil had its head flying from its body. Slicing down as he dropped, Vergil bisected the elder Grimm.

Channelling his strength into his gauntlets, Vergil grabbed one half, hurling it like a meteorite into the startled Grimm overhead before swinging the other half violently. Countless Grimm were crushed with every swipe until Vergil tossed the carcass into the far end of the valley, causing a rockslide that pulverised countless more.

Seeing the second of his ancient brethren fall had the last elder finally realise something.

Digging into the ground, it moved frantically to escape... Then the pain started. Even as it tried desperately to bore further, it felt Vergil eviscerate inch after inch of its tunnelling body, until finally reaching its head. Leaving no piece large enough to be called a body part in his wake, Vergil's feet hit the end of the in-progress tunnel before launching himself back up. Every Grimm that followed him in was killed before Vergil emerged as a valkyrie of carnage and slaughter.

All the remaining Grimm at that moment shared in their elder's realisation. That what stood before them wasn't some human prey, but a demon sent to devour them. The remaining Grimm barely lasted a day. Those who did not flee were cut down mercilessly as Vergil sought his real reward. A reward he found deep within the valley, left there by humans and untouched for generations.

Leaving, he found Ironwood with a military blockade. Evidently killing the stragglers.

"Sir," a scout running in from behind Vergil saluted his General. It wasn't surprising soldiers had ventured into the valley after Vergil left and arrived here as he did. Frankly, it had been a good few days, so Vergil decided to walk casually back through this blizzard. "Preliminary scouts confirm little to no Grimm presence in the Valley."

Ironwood didn't know whether to be surprised as he turned to address Vergil. Part of him thought the man had simply decided to take a break; no one would blame him after fighting for 3 days straight. Hell, no one would begrudge him for not finishing this job. Although, Ironwood could see why Ozpin gave it to one of the 'ridiculous' brothers that turned up some years ago. But Ironwood did expect both of them to show up for something this big.

"Commendable work Vergil," through the blizzard Ironwood couldn't hear Vergil's proud hmmm. Not that he needed to. It was exactly what that man would say. "The contracted reward will be delivered to Vale… and I can offer you a bonus reward if you agree to a little bargain."

"I'm listening."


"So," Weiss said after gathering back some of her societal grace. While it was... well impressive was an understatement that one Huntsman cleared Sterben Valley, he was a Beacon teacher. Perhaps such a high standard was simply to be expected of the best. "Was clearing Sterben Valley your part of the bargain the General mentioned?"

"No," Vergil replied. "The valley was simply a contract that has been completed. Ironwood has simply offered me transport back to Vale in return for attending this… gathering." There was a particular disdain in the last word. "I was going to walk back, but the offer of an airship to a catered train back to Vale seemed more appealing."

"You were going to walk?" Weiss asked incredulously. "Isn't travel between the kingdoms like that dangerous?"

"I walked to Atlas."

As Weiss processed that nugget of insanity, the two finally arrived at the front gates. Vergil moved to leave once they opened. When he did, a question burned in Weiss' mind.

"Before you go!" Vergil turned slightly to show his attention but still stood with his back towards Weiss as she continued. "What's the most important aspect of being a Huntress? I'm trying to be like my sister… like my grandfather. A man who thought for the family and carved out our good name with sword and valour. I want to regain that. What do I do? What should I focus on?"

Silence reigned, stretching on before Vergil turned to fully face Weiss. "Power."

"Power?" Weiss blinked. "Aren't you going to tell me it's saving people? Or inspiring them? Or kindness, something like that?" Those were the answers her mind had come up with. Things her father would never do or have.

"Foolishness," Weiss almost objected but Vergil's gaze stopped her. His blue eyes seemed to glow with cold burning wisdom with the full shattered moon light behind him. "Might controls everything, and without strength, you cannot protect anything. Let alone yourself."

The words resonated within Weiss almost as much as within Vergil. He remembered when he said those same words to Dante. Back when he thought his brother weak.

Dante was still a fool. But Vergil had come to accept that his brother was right about some things. A small number of subjects but he was correct all the same.

The defeat of Urizen had shown him that there was strength in his human half. With it, Vergil had beaten his brother many times when he was sure Urizen would not. The death of his nightmares had shown him some... errors, in his previous convictions. The battle atop the world tree with Dante showed him his heart.

Although none of this would have reverberated within him if it wasn't for Nero.

His son.

Still part demon, but more Human that he or Dante, and strong despite it. Or because of it? Nero was proof of this unsettlingly complicated revelation. Not to mention the final catalyst to his… reconciliation with Dante.

It was good to have a real brother again.

He was proud to have a powerful son. Although he didn't miss Nero. Missing him would mean that Vergil thought there was a chance of never seeing him again, which was ridiculous. Nero was his son. If Vergil or Dante couldn't find a way back, Nero would find a way to drag them back. There was never any doubt.

When they did meet again. Nero would have to fight him with everything he learnt, as Vergil struck with every strength he could take from this world. After all, power must be cultivated at every opportunity. And with what he found in the valley, another piece of the puzzle finally fell into place.

"I look forward to seeing you at Beacon, Miss Schnee."

"You too," Weiss automatically replied as she was startled out of her thoughts. "Professor Vergil," she finished with a curtsy as Vergil walked off into the moon's light. Engraving the frame of a true huntsman in her mind before returning reluctantly to the party.


"COULD VERGIL PLEASE REPORT TO THE STEWARD'S CABIN IMMEDIATELY."

Ignoring the intercom, Vergil flipped to the next page of his poetry book, sipping his tea as he did so. Tea that didn't even spill as another un-ordinary tremor shook through his train compartment.

"COULD VERGIL PLEASE REPORT TO THE STEWARD'S CABIN IMMEDIATELY. IT'S VERY IMPORTANT"

Another explosion, another quake, another sip.

"VERGIL PLEASE REPORT TO THE STEWARD'S CABIN; IT IS IMPERATIVE."

"Urgency lives, within its inception, if time for a demand is made, then it is a deception." Vergil read aloud, rather fitting. Flitting to the next page, Vergil didn't react as his cabin door slammed open.

"Excuse me!" The steward frantically said, scroll in hand. "Are you Vergil?"

"Go away worm," Vergil commanded with a glare over his book. The glare shook the civilian to the bones. Still, another explosion shaking through the train gave him the courage to continue.

"S-si-sir, we need-"

"Now," Vergil interrupted.

And like that, courage left the steward's shaking form, practically curling into himself next to the wall. "Sir he's…" the steward muttered into his scroll, Vergil only picking up pieces of it. "I can't… sir is there no… White Fang… he won't…"

With shaking hands, the steward offered his scroll to Vergil who just looked unimpressed in return. On a particularly bad shake, the scroll slipped from his hands, the steward immediately scuttling back as Vergil effortlessly caught it out of the air.

Closing his eyes, Vergil took a moment to breathe before answering, "what?"

"Vergil," General Ironwood's voice came through the scroll with clear authority that Vergil could easily ignore. "The train you're on is currently under attack."

"And?"

"We believe it's the White Fang attempting to steal the dust on the latter half of the train," Ironwood informed.

"And?"

"I would like you to assist in their subjugation," Ironwood kept going as if he was briefing a specialist. "While the dust is important, focus on securing the safety of the passengers so we ca-"

"No," Vergil then hung up the scroll and threw it back to the steward.

Moments later the scroll was once again, shakily handed to him. "What?"

"Vergil," Ironwood. "There are many passengers on the train. If the White Fang detonates even a portion of the dust being transported, the train could derail. The loss of human life would be-"

"Not interested," Vergil hung up again, returning to reading his book.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vergil saw the steward once again try to hand him the scroll. The poor man shook like a leaf and looked rather wilted by this point. "What?"

"If the train derails I will have to have you detained when you reach Vale." Ironwood took Vergil's silence and probably contempt as a sign he was actually listening now. "Cross kingdom cooperation would allow me to do it as your testimony would be in Atlas' interests. SO when you WALK from the derailed train to Vale, I can have you interviewed, detained, and generally annoyed for up to forty-eight hours."

Counting down slowly from three, Vergil placed the scroll down, leaving the compartment he made his way slowly down the train.

"I'll take your silence as confirmation you'll help," Ironwood continued over the scroll. "There are a few things you should know. Atlas military has several…" And on he went, talking to an empty room until two minutes later the steward recovered enough to retrieve his scroll. Informing the general Vergil had left minutes ago, the steward was surprised when the General suddenly hung up, muttering a curse.


"Goodbye, Adam," Blake cut the couplers between the train cars. Despite everything, part of her still hated herself for the expression of betrayal on Adam's face as he drifted away.

"That was smart," a smooth voice cut through the air.

Jumping in surprise, Blake pulled out her weapons, dropping back to put distance between herself and this new man. Who was he? How did he get so close to stand next to Blake without her noticing?

"Good instincts," the man in black and blue complemented, admiring Blake's fight or flight reflexes. "If you had not cut the car loose, you can your former friend would be dead."

It wasn't a threat. Merely a statement of fact, like the man was talking about it being rainy yesterday or that the sun will rise tomorrow. Part of Blake… no, every part of Blake believed him. Something about this man screamed danger. "W-who are you?"

"Vergil," his blue eyes ripped through Blake's soul as if no secret was hidden from them. "What is your name?"

"B-Blake," she thought about lying, or running, but with Vergil an arm's length away it didn't seem possible. Blake was frozen in place.

"Come with me Blake," it felt like an order, a command she had to obey. Following Vergil through the train, they arrived at what Blake presumed was his compartment.

"M-Mr Vergil," the steward stuttered out. "D-did you deal with the White Fang?"

"This young lady had already fought them off," Vergil gestured to Blake, her eyes widening in surprise. When the steward's own eyes scanned her, Blake was happy she'd taken to wearing her bow near constantly, concealing her Faunus heritage. "She then severed the back carts to save all your worthless little lives from a catastrophic explosion."

"Mr Schnee won't like the lost dust shipment…" the steward muttered before feeling Vergil's glare on him. Swallowing audibly, every muscle in his body stiffened and stilled. It was like a mouse trying to make itself seem as worthless as possible to a lion.

"I do not care," Vergil's voice carried with the finality of the headsman's axe. "Inform General Ironwood the situation has been handled. And know, if I'm disturbed again I will derail the train myself and walk to Vale."

Watching the steward scuttle off, Blake almost felt sorry for him, if not for the fact that she would still be sitting with Vergil. No time to feel sorry for Schnee employees while she was still very much in danger.

Sitting across from him inside the compartment, Blake made sure her weapons were easy to access; for whatever good they could do. "Why didn't you tell that man I was a member of the White Fang?" Keep him talking, Blake thought, it meant he wasn't attacking.

"I don't care for politics," Vergil replied. Leaning back, he smirked. Everything about this woman screamed 'ready to pounce'. Showing him he was right to be interested in Blake, she was a fighter. Young, nowhere near his level (few were), but one with potential. While not looking for an apprentice, Vergil was a teacher, so one less talentless student was less of a waste of time

"That's… it?" Blake frowned' there had to be more to it. Blackmail? Was Vergil going to force her to do things? Or was ninja's with love just dirtying her thoughts?

"Yes. I am interested in two other things though, first being your fighting prowess." Vergil thought back to Blake dodging and slicing the Atlassian knight bearing down on her. Despite it towering over her, Blake handled it calmly, each strike ferocious but measured. "Few could handle that knight while taking as few hits as you did."

"How long were you watching?" Blake demanded. The stress of the situation was getting her. She didn't think Vergil was lying. So a man who could easily have killed her and Adam watched them fight and LET them live. That in addition to not even caring she was part of a PUBLICLY DENOUNCED TERRORIST ORGANISATION. This just set off more confusing alarm bells Blake didn't know the meaning of.

"Since you and your former friend were thrown onto the open cart."

FROM THE BEGINNING! "Why didn't you intervene?"

"I only cared if you derailed the train," Vergil explained. "It would have inconvenienced me."

So international terrorism was like traffic to this man? Who the hell was he?

"I am curious though," Vergil started, immediately gaining Blake's full attention, her inner questions tabled for now. "Why did you betray your kind? My ancestors once forsook his own, I am curious about your reason." Vergil knew of Sparda's own, at least in part, what were this girls?

"They weren't my kind," Blake stated with a frown. For the first time since their chat, Blake's hand left her weapon. "They don't represent us, not anymore; they betrayed that trust. Now the White Fang has been turned into violent extremists!"

"And you disagree with this, violence?"

"The White Fang used to fight for Faunus equality!" Blake stood, practically shouting her point down at Vergil. "Faunus who were pushed down or abused, picked up the cause. Empowered themselves to show racists and slavers we weren't lesser than them! That's who we thought tooth and nail against. Now? The White Fang are seen as terrorists because they attack innocent people, killing them without a thought!"

"It is the privilege of the strong to crush the weak," Vergil countered. "If these innocents didn't want to be crushed, they should have taken power like yours did and fought back."

"It's not right!" Blake's eyes filled with a passionate fire as she looked down into Vergil's cold blue pools. "It's the duty of the strong to protect the weak!"

"The only right thing in the world is power," Vergil contradicted. "Without it, you can change nothing, protect nothing. Not yourself, the Faunus, or the innocent."

"Then I'll gain strength!" There is was. Conviction. Blake was nervous when she came in, emotional in her speech, but this was what Vergil was looking for. The conviction to gain power for her own ends.

"How?" Vergil asked.

"I'm going to become a huntress," Blake still spoke with conviction, not yet wavering into uncertainty. "I can't run forever. When I face my demons, I'll be ready. Huntress' are heroes throughout the world! They are the strongest warriors of all time, they are symbols of humanity's peak. As a huntress, the Faunus could see my dedication to protecting people. They could follow my example, I could root out the corruption of the White Fang and return it back to what it's meant to be!"

Breathing heavily, Blake finally realised she had been shouting down at Vergil. Adrenaline overrode her survival instinct; Blake stood there resolutely before his gaze.

"Good," Vergil smirked, sending shivers down Blake's spine. This girl had what he wanted in a student: purpose, power-lust, and motivation. "I'll contact Ozpin when we get to Vale to enrol you. You will likely need to have a short chat with him, but that will be all. I expect you to be ready for when term starts in a few weeks." With that, Vergil opened his book, finally returning to reading.

"Wait. What?" Usually, Vergil would sigh, but he was in a good mood, and Blake's confusion was fairly amusing. What was it with this dimension's women being so entertaining to confuse (GLYNDA).

"I am a teacher at Beacon Academy," Vergil briefly explained. "I will talk to Ozpin, the headmaster, who will enrol you. You will then attend the school for huntresses."

Silence reigned for longer this time. Blake really thinking on his words before speaking out again, "what will you tell Ozpin." Blake's nails dug into the seat as she awaited the answer."

"I will tell him you are to attend Beacon as a huntress in training," Vergil turned the page. "What you tell him will be your prerogative."

This can't be right. Blake's luck wasn't this good. No way an extremely dangerous Beacon teacher HAPPENED to be on a dust train from Atlas, didn't kill her for being a member of the White Fang. Then offered her a place at the school she was going to work her ass off to find a way into.

But, as the minutes ticked by, the idea sank in.

She was going to Beacon. Oh god, she was going to Beacon.

Was Blake ready? Could she do it? What if she was discovered? What would she do? Were all Beacon teachers like Vergil?

Looking past the instinctual reaction of fear, Blake really looked at Vergil. He looked strong but cultured. His Black and blue attire gave a dangerous yet dignified look, while his white hair was bright and slicked back. In his hands was a… poetry book? That was a good one Blake had read before. That relaxed her somewhat, such a cordial hobby to such a threatening presence.

Time marched on, and Blake squashed her desire to run. Questions still plagued her mind, but this was the path she chose.

When refreshments were served, Vergil took another pot of tea, Blake even receiving a cup (adding a fair amount of milk, unlike Vergil). Before the end of the journey, Blake even managed to strike up a conversation on the book. The two discussing different poems, their meanings, implications, etc.

But they had to arrive eventually.

As Vergil strode through security, Blake fidgeted behind him. Swallowing, she steeled nerves, mentally rehearsing what she would tell Ozpin. It was time.

Meanwhile, Vergil just smiled. This year may well be interesting. Two new students and one more discovery in the Valleys of Atlas… What a productive trip.