So. Here we are again.

It's been about 4 or so months since the end of this fic, and I still can't believe how popular it had gotten since I started it nearly a year ago. I gave a lot of people something to enjoy in that time, and even more people are finding this crazy story.

I think it's time we go a little further.

The chapters to come are one-shots and short side stories that go into the lives of our favorite RWBY characters post-Big Brother: Ozpin and how they cope with day-to-day life (or fail to do so). Characters that did not appear very often in the main story (or didn't appear at all, i.e. Volume 4 characters) will take center stage at times, but will experience the same batshit crazy scenarios the main cast had to deal with.

There is no set amount to how many of these chapters I will make, a dedicated length, nor a schedule to their posting. If I think of an idea, you can bet I will have it typed and ready for you to read.

Now… back to it.

"Ah… Home sweet home."

The trio of men paced down the dark hallway lit by torches, finally back at their base of operations after six months out in the field. One of them, bearing the most pristine and debonair of moustaches, led the way. He adjusted the collar of his petticoat, assuring that he looked his best in front of Her Grace.

"Ooh, I cannot wait to see our new plaything!" one of the men said with dark glee. His narrow yellow eyes dilating just at the thought of the heinous acts of torture he could perform. "I hope she is a screamer!"

The mustached man rolled his eyes in disgust. "Tyrian, please. I know you are incapable of having any class, but try to not mutilate this one so quickly."

"No class?" Tyrian gasped dramatically, taking a step back and covering his mouth in fake shock, "Why, my dear friend! I did not know of how low regard you held me. It hurts me so."

"Really now?"

"Oh, why of course! I consider you one of my best friends, and here you are degrading me. It pains my soul so deeply…"

"You're a terrible liar, Tyrian," the third and largest man spoke gruffly, "Just shut up until we get to the throne room."

"Thank you, Hazel," Watts replied, "Just put him in the sleeper hold again if he opens his mouth once more."

Tyrian gave his partners a deadpan glare before shrugging it off. Hell, maybe he would talk again just to piss them off. It wasn't like he minded the pain of being choked out. Just another kink of the job.

The three men reached the two gigantic doors to their boss's throne room, a pair of stone snake pillars on each side looming over them. Pushing them open, they strode into the space expecting their queen to be awaiting them on her throne, dignified and victorious in her quest to defeat Ozpin.

That was the exact opposite of what they witnessed.

Lying prone on the floor was a snoring Salem, bottles of booze littered about. No longer was she dressed in black robes, but instead in a felt brown dress lined with flowers. There was a wavering haze in the air with a very medicinal scent, accompanied by the relaxing sound of reggae rock. Tie dye blankets hung from the wall, and a rainbow colored Beowolf was napping in the far end of the room on Salem's throne.

None of the men made a sound, and if Tyrian wasn't laughing, then you knew the situation was really fucked.

The empress hiccupped, stretching as she rose from her slumber, She brushed her loose hair from over her face and smiled – yes, a genuine, cheerful expression – at her subordinates. "Heey… Whazzup?"

"Y-Your Grace?" Watts said, still unsure if this was actually Salem or some twisted hallucination. The woman, ever so light on her feet, walked over and planted a kiss on his cheek. He reeled back in fear, and wiped it off in shock. "What in blazes is going on?!"

"I've found it, brother Watts," Salem said, pulling a lighter and a rolled up piece of paper from her dress. She ignited it, inhaling deeply and blowing a puff of smoke in the men's' faces. "This… is true bliss."

"B-But why?! How?! The last time we saw you, you were planning to destroy Beacon Academy! What in bloody hell could've happened between that time to bring upon you this… degenerate lifestyle?!"

With Watts about to blow his top, Hazel stepped forward to calm the situation. "You lost the bet, didn't you?"

"Yes," Salem sighed, doing a weird dancing motion with her hands, "But I got to thinking: if those young people in that house could find peace, then why couldn't I? So I did some soul searching, and I found the greatest answer."

"…Maiming?" Tyrian replied, cocking his head. Hazel backhanded him for the pointless contribution. "Oh, come on. A little harder next time."

"This," Salem grinned, holding up the burning roll of paper and plants, "The young people call this a 'blunt'. I don't really know exactly what that means, but certain places sell this for medicinal purposes. And I must say, it is great at curing depression."

Hazel took notice of the dozens of bottles scattered about. "I'd say the alcohol helps as well… But what now?"

"What now?" Salem spun in a twirl, "What now is we enjoy our lives to their fullest! No more schemes, no more killing! Just carefree bliss…"

The three men looked at each other as their former queen skipped away from them to hug her rainbow Beowolf. They formed a group huddle to talk over a plan. This was quite the predicament; none of them really had much else to their name that wasn't attached to gaining great power from Salem. And with that future now down the drain… what else could they possibly do?

"So, who else feels like vomiting right now?" Tyrian asked, cringing.

"This is preposterous!" Watts hissed, "We leave for six months, and she loses her mind! All of our glory, our promised power… Gone! What do we do now?!"

"We could kill her. That would be fun."

"Tyrian, she is still the same woman. She could eviscerate you in the blink of an eye if needed!"

"…I'm going home." Watts and Tyrian looked at Hazel in surprise. The big man nodded his head to reaffirm his words. "I've got a kid. A wife. They miss me. It's better than staying here."

Tyrian blinked twice. "…I still say we kill her."

"Enough!" Watts slapped the psycho in the back of the head, "You can try that, but I will not be a part of it and risk my life! It seems,,," the man sighed heavily, watching years and years of work go down the toilet, "I will have to find my way to the top through other means. Hazel, it has been an honor knowing you. Tyrian… Well, I just flat out despise you. The world would be much better off with you dead, and I hope you suffer an excruciating demise."

"All that and more back at you, my dear Watts."

The trio stood apart, taking one last look at their former queen.

"I… think we will take our leave now," Watts said, backing out of the room slowly, "We will, uh, keep in touch. Yes, we definitely will. If this phase of yours ever comes to an end, we will return in a heartbeat. Or at least, I will."

"Good luck to you in whatever it is you decide to do," Hazel bowed, leaving immediately after to get to his family sooner.

"If you ever need help dying, then you know who to call!" Tyrian winked. Once the madman sprinted down the hall, his cackling echoing throughout the castle, Watts turned his back to Salem and went to depart himself.

"Watts!" Salem's voice halted him in his tracks. He peered over his shoulder to see the woman waving goodbye to him. "Remember… Keep moving forward. Only then will you find the happiness you seek."

With a subtle salute, the mustached man shut the door on his past. He straightened his tie, standing straight and dignified as he paced down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps on the marble much louder now that he was alone.

"Adieu to you… My Grace."