AN: Hello all…1,452 of you! Have to say, the fact that so many of you have been reading this scares the hell out of me. I'm glad you're all at least enjoying the mysteries and changes I've started dipping into the series. I honestly don't have too much to say in this one except for as always feel free to review and comment what you like or don't like, things like that. It always helps to know where I can improve my craft, or if not improve my craft at least fix what I've done wrong. That being said let's get right back into it.

The City of Vale was quiet.

Other than the rustle of the wind through the ruined buildings and the the echoing Grimm footsteps on cracked and broken streets. Even as the sun began to dip across the sky Arsenal could not help but find morbid amusement at the situation. What had once been a thriving metropolis was now serving as his student's training ground, playing amongst the bones of civilization. Watching as the teen continued to make his way down the long avenue with his head on a swivel, the Grimmwalker had to stifle a chuckle.

And they call Grimm the animals. He thought, leaning back against the shingled roof he had made into his perch.

"You know, Arsenal. When I said Jaune needed a teacher I had expected you to actually teach him." A voice cuts the silence, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of heels clattering against the ceramic tiles.

"And I am training him, simply not in the way you would probably find acceptable. Though I have to ask what's the occasion; I have not seen you since you asked me to take this assignment." Arsenal replies to the once assistant dean.

"When the person I put in charge of one of my students runs off into the city and leaves them to the Beowolves it is worth my attention. So then, I must ask, what are you training him in exactly? How to get yourself killed?" the pale blonde chides, prompting the other Huntsman to shrug.

"While it is something I am well versed in, no. The kid thinks too much, so I'm having him do the exact opposite: Fight without enough time to think farther beyond the next ten seconds." He replies, watching as Jaune slams his shield into the chest of a beowolf before stabbing his new sword into its exposed abdomen.

"And you could not think of a better means of doing that then simply letting him go at it?" Glynda continues to push.

A sigh is heard as Arsenal rolls his eyes, unbeknown to his once teacher.

"Unless you want him to follow more literally in my footsteps Ms. Goodwitch, I assure you he's in as much danger as I need him to believe he is in." He insists before pointing the sky and drawing a few circles with his finger. "See for yourself."

Looking up Glynda saw what could only be described as unique. It was not the first time she had seen the phenomenon, let alone from Arsenal. However to see a flight of Nevermore's circling high in the sky over the city and Not immediately targeting the huntsmen below? That was something a scant few people could do.

At least, there were few people who could do it and be considered sane; But then again, Arsenal and his team were not what Glynda could ever consider 'normal' huntsmen.

"You know you're not supposed to do that." Glynda reminds the young man, though this gets another shrug from Arsenal.

"Well, given there's no witness, Whit' isn't here to stop me, and it isn't hurting anyone who cares? If you'd let me use it more I could probably clean this whole mess up like That." He responds, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

"And you remember the last time you tried something like this." She counters, though to this the Grimmwalker says nothing, instead focusing on the fight going on bellow.

If Glynda were a less composed person, she would have sighed at the behavior. But at the same time she knew that what she had said had been what most people would call 'a low blow'. She had known Arsenal and his team since before they had even been a team, and was one of very few people who knew the full story of Team ICAS. Of all the members and their varying degrees of 'uniqueness' however, Arsenal was the one who she and the rest of the Brotherhood considered the greatest risk. So it had been a surprise to her and many others when Ozpin had chosen Arsenal of all people who advocated for him to join their group.

Though it was moments like this where Glynda wished the groups now deceased leader had reconsidered.

For all of his fears, Jaune was surprised at how easy it was to get back into the rhythm of things.

Blocking a swipe from another Beowolf, the Blonde Knight forced the beasts up and away before bringing his new blade across the creatures exposed legs. Watching as the blade seamlessly swam through the midnight grimmflesh, watching the nearly nine-foot tall creature's legs give out as the tendons sheer apart Jaune does not hesitate. Flipping the grip on his blade the blonde plunged the blade into the beasts skull, passing through the armored bone like a hot knife through butter. The beast no longer moving Jaune continued to move past, pulling his blade free as it begins to disintegrate away into dust.

Scratch Eight. Jaune thinks to himself, scanning the area ahead of him to see if any more Grimm were the immediate threat.

Finding none the teen sheaths his sword and retracts the shield before leaning himself up against one of the abandoned vehicles that littered the road. In the three hours he had been making his way through this particular section of the city, the Blonde had not run into too many Grimm. Though given that in the two weeks since the Fall the city itself had more or less turned into the Dark Creature's territory, that was to be expected. From what little Jaune had retained from his Grimm studies, Areas with high populations of Grimm often had them in far less density.

Though given that he was fighting through one of the more ruined avenues, it may simply have been the fact that larger Grimm were still beyond.

Looking at the road there was a fracture in the road a few dozen feet away, no doubt from the surface collapsing into a subway tunnel below. Jaune could only imagine what had caused the damage, as snapped rebar and mangled vehicles littered the road around the fault. Drawing his sword again, the Blonde Knight presses off his once resting place and continued on towards the fault, preparing himself how little he could for what could possibly be waiting for him.

The fact that Junior's was still open was a certainly a surprise.

While the outer facade was all but demolished and the windows on the upper floors shattered, it had become a rather popular spot for the Huntsman who were on 'clean-up' duty. For most it was a way to at least destress, get a drink and pretend like the world hadn't fallen all around them. For Arsenal however, it was a source of information. Stepping down the grand staircase into the bar proper the Huntsman had to admit: it had seen better days.

The lighting tiles that made up the floor were cracked in places and the lighting fixture was in a heap along the far left wall. The bar and its contents were equally disheveled, with missing stools replaced with ramshackle scrap from broken booths and tables that littered the wide space. Even in this condition, however, there were still patrons huddled in small groups near the bar.

The Grimmwalker had to hand it to Junior, for as much of a scumbag as he could be: he knew what was important in his own way.

Sidling up to the bar and sinking into one of the impromptu seats at the bar, it did not take long for Arsenal's intended target made his own approach. Though his vest was torn in some places and his tie was undone, Junior still carried himself with an air of professionalism; or at least as close to professionalism as someone like him could carry themselves with.

"Arsenal Gray, I haven't seen your face around here in a long time. What brings you to this watering hole, Business or pleasure?" He ask, his tone kind but his words less so.

"Sadly I have other arrangements so it is strictly business for now. I'm looking for Qrow, have you seen him?" The Huntsman asks, his arms propping him up at the bar.

With a furrow of his brow, Junior scoffs. "And just what business could I give you? I don't know if you've noticed, kid; but the only business I've got right now is pleasure."

"Exactly, which is why out of every person in the kingdom right now you're probably the only dive bar that would know where I could find him. And if not find him at least point me in the right direction." Arsenal counters, still passive in the face of the towering barkeep.

Junior for his part, was quiet. For a split second Arsenal sees something flicker in his eyes before he speaks up.

"If I tell you what I know I only ask for a favor in return." Junior offers.

"And what would that be? I can't play bouncer for you if that's what you're looking for. " Arsenal teases, though Junior responds simply by pulling out a worn black bottle and a glass.

Watching the bartender as he worked, the cork of the bottle was quickly removed and a bright red fluid pours from it into the glass. Recorking and setting the bottle away and retrieving a small grated slip of metal and setting it atop the rim of the glass.

"You aren't making what I think you're making, are you?" Arsenal asks, watching as the taller man sets a small cube of clearly soaked sugar atop the grate.

"Consider it a sweetner to the deal." Junior advises, before striking a match and setting it to the cube for but a moment.

Immediately the cube bursts into flame and with a flick of his wrist the cube falls in. Not wasting a moment the man pulls a small blue vial from his belt and dumps the contents within. Immediately the concoction extinguishes and Junior slides the now sanguine colored fluid to Arsenal. Thinking it would be rude to deny the gesture, the huntsman in question gently wraps his fingers around the beverage, the glass still warm from the fire.

It wasn't every day you were given a glass of Grimm's Blood on the house.

Raising the glass to his lips, the Grimmwalker takes a sip of the rather expensive cocktail. Immediately the still lingering heat of the flame is there, the warmth of the beverage only matched by the wash of flavor that came with it. From what Arsenal understood of the drink the main component was a mash of a number of herbs and spices from around Remnant, something he was now greatly enjoying as it washed down his throat. It was a complex drink, and while Arsenal considered himself a simple man, it was more than pleasant to his senses.

"The boss wants to speak with you, she's up in the penthouse." Junior cuts in, and immediately three things occur:

One: Arsenal swallows out of surprise, unknowingly forcing the alcohol down the wrong pipe.

Two: the remaining of the drink is forced from the Grimmwalker's mouth as he spits out the rest of the drink.

Three: He asks a single question: "What?!"

There was good news and bad news.

The Good news? Jaune had found out what had caused the fault in the road, The bad news?

The Fault in the ground was a King Taijitu Pit.

Locking eyes with one of the massive serpent's eyes, Jaune could swear his heart stopped. Sure he had fought Ursa, Boarbatusk and Beowolves in the past; But most massive Grimm the teen had ever encountered had been taken down as a team. Watching as one of the beasts massive tongues darted out and licked at the air, the ivory head turning slightly towards Jaune. Forcing his fear down at least long enough for a singular idea to pass through his mind:

Run!

Jumping down the slight rise in the terrain, only for the sound of crumbling concrete and the rumbling hiss of the massive beast as it darts after him, it's gaping maw only a few short feet from the Blonde's head. Taking off in a sprint, Jaune is at least thankful that for the moment he was nimble enough to maneuver through the broken and cluttered terrain. However, hearing the sound of bending metal and breaking glass makes it clear that while it was an advantage, the creature was not letting it get in the way. Seeing the road split ahead the Knight feels his heart sink for a moment, knowing that with the King Taijitu hot on his heels the chances of being able to change direction without becoming Grimm food were slim.

Come on Jaune, left or right, just make a choice. He chides himself, the sound of devastation behind him growing ever louder.

Finding no answer and with the looming threat of death on the horizon, Jaune felt a sudden calmness overcome him. The only reason he had even noticed the change was the fact that he had only really felt this way once before. It had been in the last days of his first year at Beacon, and he had found himself spending the late afternoon with Pyrrha. They had been training for hours and it had finally come to an end. Yet instead of returning to the dorm the duo had opted to simply lay in the grass, enjoying the warm summer air and company.

Yet here, in a moment of near death, the same calmness and tranquility sank into his bones.

Looking at the options ahead of him, Jaune saw an opportunity and took it. Channeling his aura into his legs the Blonde Knight threw himself forward, bringing his shield up and bracing himself as an explosion of dust and glass surrounds him. Giving a grunt as his body lands amongst broken furniture and glass shards, quickly turning himself around the face of the black snake ploughs into the facade of the building Jaune had flown into. Thankfully the building's stone face held, giving the Blonde Knight enough time to get up and make a beeline for the staircase. Making up to the second floor in time the teen heard a crash as a plume of smoke and debris filled the lower floor, followed by the sound of scraping furniture and hissing of beasts. Continuing up the stairs the sound of falling tree's fills the air as the black head of the King Taijitu explodes through the floor, maw wide and yards long fangs glistening in what little light filtered inside. Moving quickly, Jaune lashes out with his new blade, cutting a gash below the Serpentine Grimm's nostril, the creature giving a shriek as its mouth clamps shut.

However this is short lived as the beasts white head slams into the second floor, shattering the windows and turning what success the knight had into a moot one.

Looking between the two eyes the Blonde Knight has an idea, a crazy idea, a potentially suicidal idea but one that could very well work. Slamming his sword against his shield, Jaune begins to yell at the beast.

"Come on, you scaly son of a bitch. Come and get me!" He roars, his muted fear having transformed into anger.

Watching the head rear back, the blonde immediately retracts the shield and begins to run to the back of the stairwell, barely avoiding as the massive pale head slams again into the wall, the stone and wood frame caving inwards as its massive head makes the black head sink back under the floor Jaune rushes forward and with a grunt leaps across the hole in the floor the beast had left, and the briefest glance giving way for Jaune to see the beasts jewel like eyes watching him with predatory hunger. His feet barely touching the shattered flooring, Jaune rolled through the landing, the floor where he had touched down crumbling away into the maw of the King Taijitu below.

Where was Arsenal when Jaune needed him?!

Who still uses their penthouse as a meeting place when the power's out and the only way up is twelve flights of stairs?

This was the question Arsenal had to ask himself as he rounded the final bend in the staircase to the top floor. While he understood the need for protocol forcing him to do such a thing when he was tasked with clearing a city and training a child? It was ludicrous in the extreme.

The drink was good though, he couldn't deny that.

Coming up the last few flights of stairs, the Grimmwalker rolls his shoulders and pushes on through the plainly painted metal door of the stairwell. Slipping past the door revealed a far more decadent interior than one may have expected. Polished black and white tiles, red carpeting and faux marble pillars lined the hall; With brass light fixtures and art installations breaking up the monotony. It screamed of class, or at the very least the imitation of it.

So it was no surprise to Arsenal that Roman Torchwick's abode would be presented in such a way.

It had been some time since the gray haired hunter had thought of the crime boss. In fact the last time he even thought of him had been the last time the two had seen each other nearly five years prior. Back then the bowler hat wearing crime lord had only just been starting out and had been wise enough to back down when the two had come to blows. Though even before then the two had never gotten along, so seeing the gaudy display got a chuckle out of him.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. He muses, moving down the hall in silence.

Something had been bugging him since he'd come up. Junior had insisted that his boss was female, and that 'she' would speak with him. The last time he had seen Roman he was certainly male so unless the petty thief-turned kingpin had been hiding something from him something had happened. However Arsenal knew a negotiation when he saw one, so for now he decided he'd play nice.

Might actually be something worthwhile.

Reaching the far end of the hall and stopping in front of the twin hardwood doors. Taking a deep breath the Huntsman grabbed the pair of gold handles and with a twist pulled the doors open. Immediately the feeling of a breeze hit his senses and upon giving a look over the room it became obvious as to why. The far wall had been floor-to-ceiling windows that had been smashed in, the dying afternoon light and wind filtering through the now open wall.

Other than that however the room had once been nice.

Split between a standing bar areas and a open den area, it was easy to see that beyond the rich aesthetic it was a comfortable place. Dark Hardwood floors, granite countertops, leather couches and thick carpets. Closing the doors behind him, Arsenal takes a few more steps into the room before deciding to speak up.

"Hello?"

No response.

Giving a sigh the Grimmwalker plants himself onto one of the couches, closing his eyes before something dances across his senses. Strawberries. Given the fact that he was nearly one hundred and fifty feet in the air and it was early October, this shouldn't be possible. It seemed whoever was here was playing coy. Grinning slightly Arsenal could not help but be amused.

Alright then, game on.

Calling upon his Aura in a small trickle, Arsenal could feel the slight tingle of the energy along the back of his neck and up into his skull. While he did not have the most flashy Semblance, or even the most noticeable one; What Arsenal had was an effective one. Immediately the Grimmwalker became aware of the other person in the room, or more specifically their emotions. On the surface it was amusement, mirth and a sense of confidence; Given what was happening it was no doubt stemming from the fact that whoever it was thought that he was unaware of her. However below that was where things became far more worrisome.

For raging beneath this otherwise sweet exterior was a torrent of violent emotions.

Anger, Fear, Uncertainty, but more than anything pain. It wasn't the sort of pain that one could accrue from simply living, it was too sharp, too much...too fresh. Just as he was about to cut off the connection he felt one last emotion. The faintest spark of hope, though before he could follow it the sensation fizzled out.

"You know, manners usually dictate that one welcomes a guest into their home." Arsenal says, opening his eyes and looking slightly left of himself.

In a shimmer of iridescent blue slivers reality itself seems to fall apart before the huntsmans eyes, revealing a surprising sight.

They were certainly female, given the rounded face and long flowing hair of pink and chocolate brown. Her eyes equally unique, though the colors were reversed with her right eye being brown and her left pink. Immediately after this was the height difference, with even Arsenal at his sitting height being just shorter than her standing. How such a small woman was able to draw Junior's respect enough to change loyalties was unknown...or at least it had been until he saw it.

For clutched in her hands was a very familiar black bowler hat, complete with red silk band and petrified Nevermore feather. There were many things the Grimmwalker could say wouldn't happen: All the Grimm disappearing from Remnant, the Schnee Dust Company advocating for Faunus rights and Roman Torchwick willingly separating from his precious hat. Something had gone wrong; Terribly, terribly wrong.