A/N: I promised a longer chapter, and here I am delivering for once. Go me.

Chapter 4: Breaking it Down (On the Dance Floor)

How did it come to this?

Well, I know how it came to this. Thanks to the blonde woman's directions, I found Beacon easily enough. Getting there is the hard part. It wouldn't be so easy as sneaking onto a ferry this time. Why the fuck the hub of all their communications passes through a fucking school and not some sort of military installation bewilders me.

I didn't notice it before, wasn't looking for it, but as I walk through the city… some of these people have Light. Nowhere near as much as a Guardian, not quite a Spark, but more than any human back on Earth. And that's a problem because I have no idea why, or what sort of abilities they have. And Beacon… even looking at it from a distance, I can feel the Light surrounding the place. If Beacon is a refuge for these Huntsmen, going in blind and unprepared is the last thing I want. But… it might be my best shot at finding somebody with the Spark. Now that I know what to look for, I'm sure I won't miss it.

Unfortunately, it seems like the police presence in the city increases at night, and as a stranger with no identity or documents that's somewhat concerning. So, here I am, sitting on the roof of a… nightclub? A building near the docks. The ferry's been shut down for the night, so returning to my ship isn't an option, and I don't feel like taking a risk by bringing it into the city on autopilot, even with a stealth system. Besides, it's not like I've never had to camp outside before. Light does wonders for a sore back.

Leaning back, I close my eyes, feeling the building shake slightly with the rhythmic beats of the music playing several floors below. With a sigh, I curl up on the concrete, feeling a gentle breeze wash over me from a ventilation unit a few meters away. Moments like this make me wish I could still sleep, it sounds –

I jolt upright as a sound, familiar as breathing, rings out. Gunfire, coming from the club below me. None of my business, yet…? Too risky to leave it be, I must investigate. Standing, I stride over to a nearby hatch. Locked. Closing my eyes, I reach out and lay a finger on the steel. Calming myself, I feel the outside world bleed away again. My enhanced senses slipping and returning to their previous state. But my mind… expanding. When I open my eyes again, I know what to do. My vision blurs for a moment as time seems to slow ever so slightly, before quickly returning to normal.

Calling on the familiar Light of a Sunsinger, I summon a tiny flame, small yet intensely hot. I press the flame against the metal around the lock, unconcerned with the heat of the fire or the molten metal. In seconds, the metal begins to glow as I rip the mechanism out, stifling the flames. Swinging the hatch open, I see a ladder, leading into a darkened room. No helmet, so night vision isn't an option. But maybe I could… there. Blinking once, I feel my eyes begin to warm as the room grows brighter, tiny flames flickering around the edges of my vision as the Light compensates for the darkness.

"Why does Light always affect the eyes?" I muse. You'd think glowing eyes would give away your position in a dark area, but the Light plays by its own rules. Dropping into the room, I rise from a crouch and walk over to the door. Unlocked. I swing it open and look around. Immediately I wince, as the light hits my sensitive eyes. Blinking, I let the Light slip away, the flames at the edges of my vision dying down.

The image quickly resolves itself into a long, carpeted hallway, with several more doors on both sides. At the end – double doors leading to a flight of stairs. Moving forwards, I creep down the hall, pushing the doors open a bit as I listen. Further down, I hear people, clattering down the stairs. Seconds pass, and the stairwell falls silent. A quick scan of my motion trackers confirms. Several signatures at the bottom level, in the middle of a huge room. Nothing else in the rest of the building. Looks like everybody else either evacuated or joined the fight.

Shrugging, I leap forwards, flipping over the banister and falling down the central shaft, towards the ground floor. Before I turn into a pancake on the cement, I activate Glide, slowing my descent until my boots tap gently onto the ground. Striding forwards, I push open the doors and see…

Chaos. The doors open to the side of the large room I identified, in which a… rather one-sided beatdown is taking place. Multiple men in black suits are swarming around a dance floor, swinging and shooting at a… familiar-looking blonde. The woman from the park? Before I can even form a coherent thought, a bearded man in vest and slacks pops up from behind a nearby bar.

"Who the hell are you?" He grunts, looking towards me.

"Nobody." I say. Nodding towards the dance floor, I ask, "What's with that?"

He turns to look at the fight. "Just some troublemaker, came in thinking she was hot shit." He says angrily. "My boys have got it handled."

"You sure?" I ask, tilting my head towards the woman, who had just finished with the last of the black-suited men, leaping up onto the soundstage and delivering a vicious beating to the poor DJ.

"Uhh…" The man pales slightly. I step forwards, eyeing the man she had thrown off the stage. He… wasn't dead, but he wouldn't be running any marathons for a while. Or ever again, probably. Humans don't heal like I do.

I sigh. "Stay put," I tell him, walking towards the stage. "I'll make sure she doesn't kill anybody." Really, it was a miracle she hadn't yet. Whatever kind of weapons she was using – sounded like a shotgun? Whatever they were, it was amazing that she hadn't even drawn blood. Though judging from how a lot of the men's extremities were bent it would be safe to say some of them wouldn't last long without medical attention. The longer this lasted, the more likely one was to die from a punctured lung or internal bleeding.

As I pick my way through the shattered glass and broken bodies, I see two women clad in a pair of short, frilly dresses racing over to the man behind the counter. They seem to be unarmed, so I look back towards the stage, where the blonde girl was reloading a pair of… gauntlets? Watching her flip the strips of shells through the air, I frown internally. That sort of showmanship gets one killed on the battlefield. But – now that I'm looking for it, I can feel the Light radiating from her.

Standing in the center of the dance floor, I call out to her. "Hey, you!" I shout. Yeah, not my best line, but I didn't exactly get her name earlier. "How about you come down, and we settle this peacefully? These guys need medical attention."

She looks over to me and frowns, before shooting a hand forwards and pointing at me. "You! You're the guy from the women's bathroom! You work for Junior?"

I wince. "Look, I already apologized for that. And no, I don't work for anybody. Can we just stop this whole fight so we can all go home?"

She grins. "Not a chance, bud. I still need to have a little chat with Junior over there. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of my way."

"Fantastic," I grumble. "So much for staying under the radar." I don't know what her deal is with this Junior guy, but this ends now before somebody dies. I fling my arm to the side, cupping my hand as I prepare to toss a suppressor grenade.

She preempts me, punching forwards and sending a barrage of fiery blasts my way. I thrust my left hand forwards, channeling my Light into a wave of kinetic energy that pops the flares in midair. She didn't wait around, though, leaping off the stage while using her gauntlets to propel herself through the air before thrusting out a single fist.

I recognize her position immediately. Everything about it reminds me of a Striker, ready to drop a Fist of Havoc. As she begins to plummet towards the dance floor like a fiery comet, I leap into the air, activating my Glide to keep me there. My right hand moves forwards, launching the suppressor grenade towards her point of impact.

It's a perfect throw, her outstretched fist slamming into the grenade right as it detonates. A flash of light and heat, just enough to blind and stun without causing serious injury, with an added bonus of temporarily disrupting the ability to channel paracasual force. Leveling the Vestian Dynasty, I can feel a pair of flaming wings sprout from my back as Angel of Light activates, keeping me suspended in the air as I empty my magazine into the stunned woman.

As I suspected, where the rounds impact a soft, almost invisible flash of light ripples. Some sort of passive barrier, much like a Guardian's shield. I knew there had to be a reason those men from earlier hadn't been killed outright. She jerks backward, covering her eyes with one hand while the other flails wildly, spraying buckshot left and right.

That has to stop before she shoots one of the downed men by accident. All abilities are on cooldown though… except one. Unleashing my Radiance, I feel my wings spreading even wider, flames mantling me as my connection to the Light broadens. In moments I feel my abilities recharge. Sprinting towards her, I reel my hand back before unleashing another shockwave of kinetic force, sending her crashing through a glass pillar. Oops. I shoot a glance towards the man behind the bar. "Sorry about that!" I shout.

I turn back towards the shattered glass as I hear a scream of fury. The girl is back on her feet, and she looks steamed. Quite literally, her hair appears to be on fire. In fact, it almost looks like my own Radiance, though lacking wings. Sliding a foot backward, she suddenly breaks into an impossible leap, arms outstretched and ready to pummel me to bits. Fast – too fast for a human to possibly dodge. But I'm not human. My vision blurs again as time slows down once more. Not literally, of course – simply a result of the mind of a Warlock processing my surroundings faster than before. Drawing on my Light, I leap upwards and over her, with an arm trailing downwards as she catapults by me. For an instant, I hesitate. Can I really kill this woman? I don't think I have a choice. Closing my eyes, I reach out, planting a fusion grenade squarely on her back. "I'm sorry." I whisper.

The world blurs again as time returns to normal. Spinning around, she glares at me before a sudden explosion rips her off her feet and sends her skidding along the floor. Wait – she survived? As she skips across the ground, I see a soft flash of light pulse from her entire body – her shields have broken. A theory confirmed when a large shard of glass slices into her shoulder as she slides to a stop.

As I approach, I eye the cut with interest. It's not so bad – just a flesh wound. Messy and deep, but not enough to be life-threatening. Still, for a direct stick from a fusion grenade, it's a light injury. There's definitely more than meets the eye here. Which begs the question, will it heal as my own would?

The answer, apparently, is no. She just lays back on the floor, sobbing quietly as she clutches her lacerated shoulder. A wave of pity washes over me. I shake my head, walking forwards.

"Hey," I say, nudging her with my foot. "Sit up."

Stifling her sobs, she sits up, glaring at me. "You- I'll beat your-!"

Reaching out, I will my Light into my hand before laying in on her injured shoulder. I see her shields ripple again as the cut closes in moments, flesh knitting back together like nothing ever happened.

She blinks, all threats of revenge forgotten. "What did you do?"

I shrug. "Nothing much." I say. "Now, be a good girl and sit down until I deal with the others. Then we'll talk about what happened here." Okay, a little condescending, but seriously! No matter how 'gifted' she is, sitting there on the floor biting back tears she seemed as young as a child.

Walking over to the other men, I mutter apologies as I straighten broken bones, heal fractures, and fix dislocated limbs. A few cases of serious internal damage are a bit beyond my limited abilities, but I stabilize them as best I can.

Staggering over to the bar, I wiped the sweat off my brow. Healing that many men damn near exhausted my reserves. Healing others is exhausting in general, especially since my knowledge begins and ends at 'pump Light into them and hope it works'.

With a clink of a glass, a shot of some sort of semi-clear liquid appears before me. "Here you go, kid." The bearded man – Junior, I presume – says.

"By the Traveler, yes." I mutter, reaching forwards and slamming it back. I cough twice, feeling the burn in the back of my throat.

"Not much of a drinker, eh?" Junior says, pouring something for himself.

"No." I admit. "Never had time for that sort of thing." And the Consensus would drag me through the mud if I gave them even the slightest bit of ammunition against me.

"Hmm." Junior grunts, downing a shot himself. "I appreciate what you did for my boys. Stopping that bitch." He says, changing tack.

"It's fine," I say, leaning back. "It's the least I could do, after…" Thinking back to the rooftop, I wince. Probably shouldn't have destroyed that hatch. Or the pillar. Or the dance floor. I look back towards Junior. "So, what's her deal?" I say, waving a hand towards the girl on the dance floor, apparently being grilled by the other two women.

"Dunno." He shrugs. "Came in, demanding information on some woman. Refused to pay. Told her I didn't have anything for her, she got mad, started a brawl with my boys. Not much else to it."

"You're pretty calm about this." I observe, watching him mix another drink.

"Comes with the territory." He says. "Not the first time this place has gotten trashed."

I sit back, thinking. My mind races, trying to come up with some way to twist this to my advantage. Yeah, I did a good deed, but… there are things I have to do.

I blink. "Did you say she came to you for information?" I ask.

He looks up from his drink. "Yeah." He says.

"So, I take it you're the local wise guy? One who knows everyone? Information broker?"

He hesitates, before nodding. "You could say that. Ain't much of a secret, really."

I wave my hand back towards the women, as well as the men getting up from the floor, rubbing their newly healed limbs with amazed looks. "If you're feeling generous after my little act of charity… think you could get me into Beacon?"

Junior hums, leaning back and looking at me. Looking over to his men, he nods sharply before turning back to me. "Yeah, I guess I can do that. What do you need to get in there for?"

I frown. "That isn't important." I wave a hand. "Nothing nefarious, anyway. I just need to get in and out, with nobody else being the wiser."

He looks me over. "You're not the first person who asked me this, you know."

"I'm not?"

"No. A guy not too long ago. Blonde hair, jeans, blue eyes? Wanted me to arrange fake transcripts for Beacon. Could do something similar for you."

I frown. "I'm not looking to be a student. I just need a way inside, and an alibi if I get caught."

"I figured," Junior says. "But your options are limited. Only a few people get into Beacon. Students, staff, and visiting huntsmen. There's a few other things, tours and whatnot. With the school year beginning soon, all those are on hold though. I'm a broker, not a miracle worker. Fake student transcripts I can arrange, but nobody I know can forge a real huntsmen's license, and the chances of a kid like you being hired on are slim."

"Damn." I curse, mulling over my options. "No other way? Maybe as food service, a repairman, anything? Also, I'm fairly sure I'm older than you."

"No, they keep that all in house and their background checks are extensive." Junior says. "Student isn't so bad, though. You look young enough, and if you get caught out where you shouldn't be you can just claim you were lost. Besides, you don't even need to attend. Beacon has an initiation on the first day, to weed out the weak and the stupid ones. Fail that, and you'll be able to leave no questions asked."

He smirks. "And students arrive the day before, spend a whole night there before initiation. Should be the perfect chance to slip out and do whatever it is you need to do. And no offense kid, but I'm 46 and you look barely look old enough to drink."

Rolling my eyes, I laugh quietly. "So, I have you beat by about a dozen centuries." He blinks rapidly but doesn't ask any questions. Casting my gaze down, I think about it for a moment. Really, it sounds too good to be true, and that raises a lot of red flags on its own. But can I afford to pass this up? No, no I can't. Besides… would it be so bad? A longer-term position might be beneficial… plenty of time to scope the place out, search for somebody with the Spark. Beacon's a combat school, right? Sounds like the kind of place natural warriors would gravitate to.

I raise my hand, offering it to Junior. "Sounds like a deal to me."

He chuckles, shaking my hand briskly. "I'll get started on the paperwork. You get miss Blondie out of the club and tell the twins to take you to my office."

Picking my way back across the shattered dance floor, I see the twins storming away from the blonde girl, who looks positively catatonic at this point. Ignoring them for the moment, I walk over to her.

"So," I say. "What's your story?"

"What?" She looks up, lilac eyes rimmed with red.

"What are you doing here? Junior says you were looking for a woman?" I ask.

She seems to struggle with herself for a moment, before slumping and exhaling violently. "Raven Branwen. My birth mother. I've been trying to find her."

Oh. This is kind of awkward. "Why's she missing?" I ask.

She shrugs dispassionately. "I don't know." She admits. "She left when I was a child."

I frown. "What, went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back?"

She chuckles weakly. "Yeah, pretty much. My dad and my uncle won't talk about it, won't tell me anything about her. I just wanted… to know, I guess."

"Well, tough break." I shrug. "Hope you find the answers you're looking for."

She looks up at me, incredulous. "Why? I attacked – I attacked you."

I snort. "Yeah, if I hated everybody I ever pissed off, I wouldn't have any friends left." I hold out my hand. "You got somewhere to be?"

She takes it, letting me haul her to her feet. "Yeah." She says. "My bike is outside. Thanks, I guess."

"Don't mention it." I say, waving her off. Just as I'm about to head over towards the twins, an ear-splitting shriek rends the air.

"YAAAAAANG!" A red blur screams, shooting towards us.

Instantly I react, shifting the girl behind me while flinging a barrier up. Not nearly as strong as a Ward of Dawn, but it should be enough to hold out against whatever attack this is.

The red blur bounces off the barrier, which cracks slightly, before resolving itself into another familiar face. "Ruby?" I say incredulously.

The red-clad girl lies on the ground for a moment, stunned, before springing up and waving at me through the barrier. "Hi, Izanagi!" She says cheerily, before her face draws into a thunderous scowl as she looks towards the girl – Yang, I assume.

Yang steps back, plastering a fake grin onto her face. "Hi, Rubes." She says, before chuckling weakly. "Uh, this isn't what this looks like?"

"YAAANG!" Ruby shouts, stepping around the barrier and towards Yang, before leaping forwards and hugging her around the waist. "Dad's going to kill you when he hears about this! And he's going to kill me for not keeping an eye on you! He'll kill both of us!"

"Wait, your father's going to kill you?" I ask, confused.

"Not literally." Yang says, rolling her eyes as she tries to pry Ruby off. "And Dad doesn't have to know." She says, glaring at her. "These guys are criminals, no way they'll call the cops. So, you'd better keep quiet about this or I'll rescind cookie privileges for a week."

I look back and forth between them. "So, how do you two know each other?" I ask.

They share a look before turning to me. "She's my sister." They both say at once.

"Really? You two look nothing alike." I muse.

"Oh!" Ruby squeaks. "Well, Yang is actually my half-sister, we each have our own mother and-"

I raise a hand, cutting her off. "I think I get it." I look back at Yang. "You good to go?" I ask.

"Uh, yeah." She says, shifting awkwardly. "I'm good. Thanks for, you know, healing me."

"You can heal people!" Ruby practically trilled. "I thought your semblance was teleporting?"

"Yeah." Yang frowns. "What's with that? You can jump thirty feet in the air, heal people by touching them, and knock my shots out of the air with your bare hands? What are you?"

"I'm a Guardian." I say. They both look bewildered. "Look, just pretend that it's magic. It's easier to understand that way." I figure the truth, or as close to it as I can manage, is probably the best, since I can't seem to make up my own story. Funnily enough, nobody ever teaches Guardians how to stick to an alibi. Hell, nobody fucking teaches Guardians shit. We just… learn by doing. "Probably the Traveler's work." I muse quietly.

"Oooh!" Ruby says, whirling around me at ninety miles per hour. "Real magic? Like in the tale of the seasons? That's so cool!"

"Yeah, look, I really don't have time for this. I have to go meet Junior in the back to set things straight, so be safe okay?" I say, backing away.

"Hey!" Ruby stops abruptly, inches away. "Can I have your scroll number? What kind of weapons do you use? Can I see it? Show me-"

Yang flashes a grin at her sister. "Already asking for the guy's number, Rubes? That's pretty bold."

Ignoring Ruby's embarrassed cry of "YAAANG!" I continue to back away.

"Oh, I, uh, don't have one." I say absentmindedly, trying to signal to the twins standing in the corner to come save me. What – were they laughing?

"What? But didn't you have one in your – urk!"

"Tough luck Rubes." Yang says, collaring her sister and dragging her off. "See you around, Lover Boy."

"See ya." I respond, too relieved to have escaped to care about the nickname.