Arthur sighed as the last newspaper flew down the pneumatic tube, disappearing in a familiar whoosh of pressurized air. It had only taken him around half an hour to finish processing the rest of the paperwork, but it had been remarkably stressful compared to how his normal workday went. The memories of Percy certainly hadn't helped with that, but with the lack of Joy in his system, it was even worse!

Before, all he had to do was glance at a paper to see if it was happy or sad. He'd never had to actually think about what the paper talked about, or if it tied into any other events. However, now that he was able to comprehend what was written in them, he couldn't help but read up on what else he had forgotten.

Evidently, that had been bloody near everything.

'General Byng Urges for Co-operation with Occupation Authorities'

'New Anti-Grimm Defensive Systems Tested'

'Drug Trials Prove Effective, Mild Impact on Aura'

Each new headline sent a sharp spike of memories into his mind, dredging up half-remembered events and vague conversations. However, even in the foggy miasma of his mind, a few details still stood out. The dreadful shortages of the occupation, people being put into forced labor, increased attacks from the Grimm…orders to register the children…

He shuddered, suddenly feeling quite glad that he had the privacy of his office to break down in. Looking at his 'Employee of the Year' certificate never failed to cheer him up, and the window offered a lovely view of the Parade District.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stay there for much longer. There was Dierdre's birthday party to attend, and as much as he didn't want to go, there was no way he could avoid it. Everyone in the office had been invited, and if he tried to duck out now, questions would be raised. They might figure out he was off his Joy! Not to mention how dreadfully awkward it would be to come up with an excuse.

Arthur stood up from his desk, slowly moving towards the doorway. Right now, all he had to do was fake it until the workday was over. Once he got out, he could go back home, come up with a better plan, get a few bits and bobs, and figure out some way to get across the Bridge. After that…

Well, Arthur had no idea. Go town to town, seeing if Percy had been around recently? Try to go to one of the major cities, like Vale or Atlas, and look for people willing to help? Keep following the train tracks and look for clues? And all that was assuming he'd even make it past the anti-Grimm defenses around the city, or the Grimm themselves!

"Focus, Arthur, focus." He chided himself, stepping out into the stark hallway beyond. The sleek, curved white walls and black flooring helped keep him from getting distracted, unlike some of the decorations in his office.

As Arthur went further down the hallway, he glanced at some of the other rooms nearby. On the left side of the hallway, the contents of the Inter-Network Room could be seen through a massive window, with dozens of interlinked pneumatic tubes sending processed papers to…well, somewhere, he supposed. Possibly to an archive of some sorts, or perhaps a library.

On the right side of the hallway, several offices were spaced next to each other. Arthur's was at the end of the hallway, befitting of his impressive accomplishments in processing papers. Clive Birtwhistle, the little shit, had somehow managed to nab the office next to him despite his terrible workplace attitude. Finally, at the end of the hallway was the office of Prudence Holmes, one of Arthur's old workplace friends who had gone off on holiday.

"…Wasn't Prudence supposed to return from holiday today?" Arthur wondered. As he looked closer at the door, he noticed that the nametag was heavily smudged out, as if someone had tried to rub the white lettering off but stopped partway through. It was a bit much for someone simply taking a trip over to Vale, wasn't it?

He couldn't help his curiosity. After taking a quick glance around him, making sure he was alone, Arthur gingerly opened the door.

The inside of the office was not a pretty sight. A basket of food lay long-forgotten on a metal cart, filled with rotting sweets and fruits. Thick layers of dust coated the furniture, with more drifting throughout the air as Arthur stepped inside. An old string was hung across the ceiling, with most of the blown-up letters strung across it having fallen to the floor.

It was a space that had clearly been undisturbed for weeks, and possibly even longer.

"But…shouldn't this office have been cleaned? Or at least tidied up a bit?" Arthur murmured, moving further into the room. As he got closer to the desk, he could make out a number of Joy bottles placed on the desk, right next to Prudence's Redactor.

Not a single one of them had been opened.

"You're off your Joy, Pru? I mean, you too?" Arthur asked, almost wishing that Prudence would answer him. If she wasn't taking her Joy, and wasn't coming in to work, then…had she already made it out of the city? Where had she gone?

His eyes fell on the nearby wall, where pictures were pinned to a corkboard and tied together with lengths of red string. She had been so cheerful about her vacation plans before, talking about hiking around the forests and seeing the exotic locales. Had she been figuring out an escape plan all along? Did she ever make it to Vale?

"Wherever you are, Pru, I hope you're safe." Arthur whispered, heading back towards the door. Taking one last look inside, he sighed, shutting the door behind him. While it pained him to admit it, he had to focus on other things for now. He could try to find Prudence once he made it out of Wellington Wells. If he was lucky, maybe she'd even be near where Percy was!

"Yeah, right. And maybe Uncle Jack will come around and hand me the keys to the city." Arthur grumbled, shuffling his feet.

"No, NO! Leave me alone!"

Arthur stopped, flinching at the sudden screaming. It sounded like it was coming from just down the hall, near Hopkin Jones' office. But why would Jones, of all people, be screaming like that?

Trying to remain quiet, Arthur carefully snuck over towards Jones' office. Thankfully, for whatever reason, Jones' office had a massive window out in the hallway, with the drapes still open. Perhaps it was meant to let managers see how the person inside was doing, even if it was a bit on the large side.

If that was its purpose, it did its job quite well for Arthur. It gave him a perfect view of Jones being restrained against his desk, desperately clawing at the intimidating figure of a Doctor standing above him. With the thick black trenchcoat, green fedora, and nightmarish grin he wore, it was impossible to mistake the other figure for anything else.

"Please, I've taken my Joy! I've taken-" Jones choked out, kicking and scratching at the Doctor as he squirmed. The Doctor, undeterred, quickly brought his free arm out of his coat, sticking a syringe right into Jones' neck. Jones' struggles immediately stopped, with his body going limp and his eyes glazing over. His face, which had just been twisted in panic, was now morphed into an insanely gleeful smile that seemed even more horrifying.

A smile that was being sent directly at Arthur.

"Oh, hi Arthur!" Jones slurred out, leaning heavily against his desk. The Doctor immediately twisted to face Arthur, his eyes glaring malevolently behind a massive pair of spectacles. In a way, they almost reminded Arthur of the ones he had worn in that article photo. It would have been funny if the Doctor hadn't started to walk over towards the window, keeping his gaze on Arthur the entire time.

What was he meant to do?! If someone like Jones had been caught, then surely that Doctor would be able to sniff him out! He could run, but then they'd call security, and he'd never see Percy again, and-

And as the Doctor reached the window, he gave Arthur a little wave, his smile seemingly growing by the slightest margin. A second later, the Doctor's hand reached out, quickly snapping the blinds shut.

Arthur blinked, staring at the window while his thoughts tried to catch up. That was all that the Doctor did? No terrifying chases, or harrowing escapes, or grievous injuries? It was…surprisingly fortunate, if completely nerve-wracking.

"All the more reason to get going soon." Arthur whispered to himself, hastily moving towards the Central Processing Unit. From there, it would be a simple walk to the conference room, where an awkward birthday celebration awaited him. The Doctor probably wouldn't try to snatch him with that many people around. Probably.

Opening the door, Arthur was greeted with a chaotic, disorderly mess in the form of the Central Processing Unit. Every desk, filing cabinet, and waste bin in the room was filled with stacks upon stacks of old newspapers, with several having already fallen over onto the floors. It was as if the entire floor was being run by Clive!

WHOOOSH

A sudden, terrifying sound caused Arthur to duck instinctually, covering his head with his arms and whimpering. After waiting for a second, in which nothing tried to attack him, he slowly glanced up towards the source of the noise.

One of the pneumatic tubes had evidently broken down, and was now shooting newspaper containers directly at the floor. Where the tube was aiming, someone had placed a small bucket, which was currently overflowing with dozens of the smaller containers. A small cardboard sign marked with 'Watch Your Head!' lying nearby was the only notice that had been given about the damage.

"I knew that we were running a bit behind on our work, but this is starting to feel a bit excessive." Arthur mused, glancing at the conference room door a few feet away. He could already hear the shouts and cheers of the birthday party going on inside. "Shouldn't someone have called a maintenance team by now?"

"Arthur? Is that you out there?" The voice of Victoria Byng called out, catching Arthur's attention once more. "Hurry up and join us!"

"C-coming!" Arthur called out, quickly sidestepping the bucket and entering the conference room. Inside, there were several people gathered around the table, whacking at something on top of it with clubs and sticks. Victoria was quickly approaching him from the side, broom in hand.

"You nearly missed the piñata!" Victoria said, shoving the broom into Arthur's hands. "It's the most adorable Vacuoan custom, Uncle Jack did a whole show about it. You smash it, until all the candy comes out." She said, spreading her arms as if already seeing the sweets flying across the room.

On the table itself, the piñata had clearly already been put through a terrible beating. It looked like it had originally been built as some sort of dog, or possibly a horse, and colored in with a variety of vibrant colors. By now, however, it was a dented, lumpy mess that was clearly one solid whack away from breaking apart.

"Come on, now! Hit it, hit it!" Victoria urged, prodding the remains of the piñata with her riding crop. Around her, the rest of the partygoers began to do the same, crying out for the utter and complete destruction of the papier-mâché construct.

Plastering a fake grin on his face, Arthur did as he was told. He raised the broom handle up above his head, brought it down with a mighty swing-

SQUISH

And immediately recoiled as blood splattered against his arms and face, nearly dropping the broom in the process. He could make out the others cheering around him, but he was too focused on the bright red spots now dotting his palm.

"Is…is this…" He murmured, slowly gazing down towards the table before gasping in horror and disgust.

What had once been a piñata was no more. In its place was the brutalized corpse of a massive rat, splattered all across the wooden tabletop. The other partygoers seemed to pay no attention to the sudden shift, crowding around and shoving chunks of raw flesh into their mouths as if they were the most delectable chocolates.

It took everything Arthur had to simply dry-heave instead of losing his breakfast, doubling over as the smell of iron reached his nose.

A smacking noise caught his attention, and he turned to look at Victoria approaching, licking the drops of blood off of her fingers. "You are off your Joy!" She said, looking as if she were on the verge of panic. She quickly dug into her pocket, pulling out a light red Joy pill. "Take one of mine!"

But he couldn't. Not after what he had just seen, just experienced. Did none of them realize what they had just been feasting on? Did none of them notice the casual collapse of the building around them, or the disappearances of their coworkers? Could any of them even see what was happening?

He couldn't speak. All he could do was inch away, trying to escape from that evil pill and the disingenuous hallucinations it brought.

Victoria continued to stare at him, her eyes quickly widening in shock and horror. "Oh my…he's a Downer!" She cried out. "Call security!"

The rest of the partygoers responded in kind, shrieking in panic and confusion. Arthur could have sworn he saw Dierdre pass out nearby, while another worker sprinted from the room, clearly on the way to get help.

There was no time left to hide. All he could do now was run.

Spotting a door out of the corner of his eye, Arthur rushed to the side of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Then, as an afterthought, he shoved the broom through the door's handle, keeping anyone else from coming inside.

At least, it would until the nearest Bobby made their way to the door. Against them, the wooden handle may as well have been a shoelace for all the good it would do.

Almost as soon as he thought that, something hit the exit with a tremendous thud, causing the door to violently rattle on its hinges. From back in the conference room, Arthur could already hear his former coworkers take up a new battlecry.

"Take your Joy! Take your Joy!" They cried out, slamming into the door repeatedly as they did so. Had they even waited to find a Bobby, or were they planning to deal with him on their own?

"I-I need to get out of here." Arthur said to himself, turning back to face the rest of the room. Thankfully, although it was obscured by several filing cabinets and machines stored in the room, he could make out a separate exit on the other side. With desperation and adrenalin fueling his movements, he quickly dragged his way through the improperly-placed obstacles, sending papers and tools falling onto the floor.

However, as he pulled himself through the doorway, he heard the absolute last sound he wanted to hear at that moment.

The sharp, shrill shriek of a Bobby's whistle, from directly to his left.

Not even daring to look at them, Arthur all but threw himself to the right, rushing towards the door at the end of the hallway. Even that was too late, as he felt himself get roughly shoved through the doorway. He soon found himself tumbling, over and over until faceplanting against a cold concrete wall.

Despite this, Arthur suddenly found himself grinning, even through the sudden pain or his now-hazy vision he was experiencing.

At the bottom of the steps was a maintenance door to the Wellington Underground! He could lose the Bobbies down there, then circle back when they lost interest! Some of those tunnels might even lead to the Bridge!

With a solid plan at last, and a real chance of escape ahead of him, Arthur threw himself down the rest of the stairs with all the energy he could muster. He ignored the footsteps of the Bobbies behind him, or the shouts of his angry coworkers behind them.

Just a little longer, and he would be safe!

Throughout the Four Kingdoms of Remnant, Beacon Academy had long been one of the most prestigious institutions around for training new Huntsmen and Huntresses. With some of the most experienced instructors in Vale, high standards for both academic and physical pursuits, and a janitorial staff that was highly skilled at cleaning up collateral damage, it was no surprise that the halls of Beacon had seen some of the finest Huntsmen teams in the world graduate from it.

However, there was still one factor that tied the students of Beacon to the students of every other school around the world, from Huntsmen academies to civilian colleges.

Everyone hated unexpected assignments.

As such, for teams RWBY and JNPR, it had been an unpleasant surprise to hear that they were being sent off to an unknown town in the furthest stretches of Vale right as they were about to enjoy the weekend. Looking the place up online had only raised further questions, with most news about the town stopping after over a decade ago.

What news they had managed to find hadn't been very clear. After recovering from some sort of brutal and destructive attack, the town had decided to completely isolate themselves from the rest of the continent, with only the occasional trade caravan being sent out every so often.

However, as the years had gone on, even those sparse traders had eventually stopped venturing out. Anyone who had tried to enter the town since then had either been turned away or never returned, and while foul play was suspected, it had never been confirmed.

The mission instructions hadn't been any clearer than the history of Wellington Wells, simply stating that 'unusual activity' had been detected near the town, and that both teams were to investigate. Stranger still, they hadn't even been assigned a professor to oversee them. Given everything that had so recently happened at the docks, it was all fairly confusing.

As such, with limited information and their weekend plans ruined, the teams decided to spend their time in effective, responsible ways, such as searching for more recent information, looking over their equipment, and making fun of the strange town's name.

"I mean, seriously, Wellington Wells? What kind of a name is that?" Yang asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"It's not that unusual of a town name." Blake replied, leafing through a novel on her mattress. "Besides, Patch isn't exactly a common name either."

"Patch is a totally reasonable name for a town! It's simple, effective, and a single word! Wellington Wells just sounds like someone got uncreative!"

Blake rolled her eyes, flipping to the next page. "You're just upset because we can't go to the movies this weekend."

"Seriously, it's been forever since we've had a good movie night! And Kingdom of the Hidden Dragon just came out!" Yang whined, slumping in her chair.

"That movie's just going to be a bunch of people punching each other." Blake said, raising an eyebrow.

In response, Yang simply shook her head. "None of you people appreciate true art." She murmured, looking despairingly at the other side of the room. "Come on, guys, back me up here!"

"Come on, Yang, it won't be that bad!" Ruby said, looking up from her scroll. "Besides, at least it's a chance to get away from Beacon for a little while!"

"Not you too, Rubes!" Yang groaned, turning towards her last, worst hope for support. "Seriously, Weiss, how are you not complaining about…this…?"

She trailed off in defeat, watching as the heiress kept glancing between her scroll and a rapidly growing pile of handwritten notes. For some reason, Weiss had continued to look for more information on Wellington Wells long after the rest of them had given up. It was almost worrying, seeing her so invested in the fate of a nearly fallen town.

Then again, that might have just been her normal studying habits acting up, which were already unnatural enough.

"…Soooooo…" Yang trailed out, inching closer to where Weiss was sitting, "Have you found anything interesting yet?" Nearby, Ruby and Blake were also looking over, hoping for something to alleviate the boredom.

Weiss looked up, staring around the room slowly until finding where Yang was standing. "No, nothing besides what we've found before. But…I keep thinking that I've heard of this town before."

The other three members of the team blinked in surprise. "Wait, what?" Ruby asked.

"I remember my father discussing the town once or twice with some of his business contacts. I can't recall what he wanted with the town, but I know he would get furious whenever he talked about it." Weiss said, turning back towards her scroll.

Blake frowned, closing her book. "But that doesn't make any sense. What would someone like him want with a town like Wellington Wells?"

"That's what I don't understand!" Weiss said, flinging her arms in frustration. "From what little information I can find, there's nothing there he would be interested in! No Dust veins, no transportation infrastructure, nothing! If these dates are correct, they wouldn't even have been buying any Dust from him!"

"A town that large, not buying any Dust at all from the SDC?" Blake asked, sitting upright. "But how would they even survive? Aren't there supposed to be thousands of people living there?"

Everyone paused, considering the implications of that line of thought. Even with smaller, out of the way settlements, there was no getting around the fact that Dust was vital to civilization. Without Dust, there was no power generation, no weapons production, and absolutely no way to keep the hordes of Grimm at bay. A settlement the size of Wellington Wells should have easily fallen without any Dust imports, and there were simply no other suppliers besides the SDC.

Except the city hadn't fallen. Somehow, without relying on the SDC for their continued survival, Wellington Wells had continued to exist.

"Huh," Yang said, grinning. "Alright, this mission is starting to get interesting."

"So they have their own Dust supply?" Ruby wondered. "But why would they try and keep that a secret?"

Weiss laughed bitterly. "The second they try to sell any Dust outside their town, my father would bury them in enough lawsuits to ruin them all. As it is, I'm sure he was furious he couldn't buy the source for himself."

"Whatever it is, it's probably why we're being sent there." Yang shrugged. "Just like the last time. Beat up the bad guys, get the Dust, and save the day! It's easy!"

Weiss grimaced slightly, although she didn't know exactly why. The others seemed to be more excited than ever about the mission, but the more she tried to think about Wellington Wells, the more uncertain she felt. After all, something in that town had managed to withstand the wrath of Jacques Schnee.

For that reason alone, Weiss doubted Wellington Wells would be quite as simple as the rest of them believed.