AN: Hello...all 2,172 of you! (Fuck me that's a lot of people) Anyways welcome back. Sorry that this took a bit longer than my usual pace; Just been busy on my end with school and so had to focus on that a bit more than usual. Anyways I don't have much to say so without further adieu, let's get into it!

Alexander had to say, seeing the hooded figure approach the bared part of his 'visitation' cell had not been part of his plan for the day.

Then again, given the state of affairs outside the prison and the tragic removal of filet mignon from his evening menu due to said affairs was also not part of his plan. So watching as the stranger finally come to a halt before the bars he decides to entertain them. Not only because they peaked his interest and visitors were rare; But because it would take another twenty minutes for the janitorial staff to dispose of the nameless guard who told him his dinner would have to change. To that end the entertainer-turned-prisoner put on his award winning smile and gave a warm, quick chuckle.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of company? And with so much going on outside no less." he says, getting to his feet from the plain metal chair, the steel soles of his freshly shined leather dance shoes clacking against the concrete floor.

The Figure says nothing for a moment, their blue eyes seeming to glow with what little light pierced the darkness the hood cast.

"My Master has seen fit to try and hold an audience with you, Alexander Palmer."

It is immediately apparent that the voice is male, carrying the same smoothness and confidence that Alexander himself put into his outward persona. However they were also restrained, nervous even? But why would they be such if they were simply a messenger? Pondering on it for a moment the proverbial light bulb goes off in his head.

"Is that so? Well, I'm not due to go anywhere for another five years so why don't they schedule a meeting of their own? Though, then again you're used to playing second fiddle aren't you?" Alexander teases, watching with amusement as the figure's eyes narrow as the light seems to dim around the figure.

"Oh tut, tut you should know better. I have eyes everywhere, my boy. Though I have to ask what brings you here of all places? Last I had heard things were going quite swimmingly in Atlas. Homesick perhaps?" He continues to push.

For a moment the entertainer expects some sort of strike or quip however the figure does not; Instead the shadows calming before the figure speaks again.

"I was here on another venture when I was given the order. Though I would tread carefully, Palmer. My Master is not the sort that takes kindly to your little games." He warns, crossing his arms.

"And just what could your 'master' want with an incarcerated man?" Alexander asks, continuing to approach the bars of his cell.

"You have your talents and skills, skills that would prove incredibly useful." The Stranger insists.

"Ahh but isn't that what everyone wants? Skills, Talent, Power. So tell me, what could you offer me in exchange, hm?" Alexander asks. "Surely you did not come to negotiate without something of value."

At this the Figure's cloaked visage begins to tremble, a muted laugh wracking their body. When it finally ended, a hand appeared from within the folds of the cloak clutching a vial of deep purple fluid.

Puzzled, Alexander tilted his head and raised a brow. "And what is that supposed to be?"

"Well, if I had been here on purpose it would have been the one thing you've been searching for. However which such little time...grape soda." The Figure answers, pulling the stopper and chugging it down.

"And why would I have wanted a glass of grape soda? I'm not a child."

It was at this thay the figure began to smile, the white of their teeth glinting in the light.

"Maybe not. But if it was what is being offered you, you'd probably be able to feel your fingers again right now." The figure changed.

Externally, Alexander 'The Dixie' Palmer did not have any reaction other than raise an eyebrow and chortle.

Internally however, was a completely different story. In the whole of Remnant there were only three people knew about his particular condition and that was himself, his incredibly well paid doctor and his supplier of Dust. He knew both of them better than anyone and had quite the healthy amount of blackmail on each to ensure they did not suddenly contract 'loose lips'. Yet here he was, being confronted not only with the fact that he was ill by a near stranger...but being offered a cure.

"Is that so?" He asks slowly, bringing a free hand to scratch his chin.

The figure nods.

"And that's simply for signing up. Whatever is beyond that will no doubt be equally within your best interests."

The ball was now squarely in The Dixie's court. On the one hand he had a stranger promising what seemed ludicrous, insane even. He had been looking for a cure since he had become a celebrity and he was completely aware that was none. Yet on the other if the offer was true then Alexander would be rid of the one thing that haunted his waking mind. And the only price he would pay is 'loyalty' to do something well beneath him no doubt?

"Tell your Master I will accept the terms when they are presented to me." Alexander informs the stranger, turning to leave when a new feminine voice speaks up:

"I believe we can do that now, if you have somewhere more private."

Spinning on the ball of his foot Alexander watches as from beneath the figures cloak a Grimm of all things floats out. No larger than a soccer ball and with numerous bladed tentacles trailing from its 'bottom' as it bobbed within the air. However, it was the clearly humanoid face that appeared with the fog that danced about the jellyfish-like creatures 'bulb' that indicated exactly where the voice had come from.

Walking to the door of his cell the man retrieved a key from his pant pocket and slipped it into the door's respective keyhole. Turning and retrieving the key the door slides open without a sound, Alexander simply gesturing to the now enterable space before making his way to the back wall of his cell. Pressing a few seemingly loose bricks the wall began to fold in, revealing a pair of double doors.

"Come, come. We can talk over dinner. I apologize for the mess in advance, you know how hired help can be I'm sure miss…?" Alexander asks, grabbing the door handle.

"...Salem."

Jaune was really coming to hate snakes.

The plan had been simple: Pin the King Taijitu's heads in the building, knock out the supports and let the building crush the beast. However as it turned out the massive Grimm was smarter than it appeared; And while the building was now riddled with holes Jaune was still no closer to killing the beast. Looking down at the waiting serpent now fifty feet below him, Jaune could officially confirm: The plan had not worked. Tightening the grip on his sword, the teen could not help but feel frustrated. Things were so much easier when he had his team, when the biggest thing he needed to worry about was planning how to take something down and trust his comrades to handle it.

Without them though, Jaune felt trapped; Standing atop a building in ruins and looking down at the beast waiting for him to come down.

Pull yourself together, Jaune. The Knight thought to himself, ignoring the rolling hiss the Grimm below released. You got yourself this far, you can do this.

Yet even as he tried to convince himself of this, the small part of him spoke otherwise. He had been training for two weeks, but it had all been physical and mental work. Heck, the weapons he had now were given to him just hours ago and he had barely any training with them. What chance did he have when he was basically walking into the problem blind and without an idea of how to handle it?!

Looking down at the aforementioned weapons, Jaune once again saw the crimson and bronzed blade of the new Crocea Mors and immediately he was brought back to his earlier thoughts.

There was no way to avoid thinking of Pyrrha, having spent a year-and-a-half with her training the sight of her and her iconic weapons had been burned into his mind. It was probably what had pushed him to take the few pieces of her equipment he could salvage. So seeing it now reforged into his own weapon, while it did not make him a better huntsman, did remind the Blonde Knight of what he was fighting for.

Jaune, everybody needs a little push from time to time. It doesn't make you any different from the rest of us. You made it to Beacon! That speaks volumes of what you're capable of!

Wincing and shaking his head, Jaune tried to stop himself from picturing his teammate. Yet try as he might to ignore the briefest flash of her emerald green eyes, He could not ignore the piercing gaze before once again the bleak world in front of him returned. To even remember that of all things at such a time hurt, though then again anything involving the once Invincible Girl had been.

I'm capable, just not capable of something like this.

It was true. After all, In all the time he had been at Beacon he had been more focused on smaller Grimm. Things like Beowolf and Boarbatusk, with Ursa being perhaps the largest of what he could handle confidently. Something like this had always been a team effort, or at the very least something the rest of his team could handle. Jaune had always known he was the weakest link amongst his teammates, but he was certainly smart enough to be able to admit it.

Then let me help you!

Again a flash of memory, this time a night he could never hope to forget. It had been the night after he had killed his first Ursa and 'dealt' with Cardin. Even after how terrible he had been as both a friend and team leader she had been willing to train him, to help him. It had been the first step to friendship with the girl for Jaune, and the moment that truly started the Blonde Knight down the path of a Huntsman.

Come on! I know you get frustrated, but you must keep trying.

Again another memory, but this time it was not simply the words of a dead woman.

This time a warmth began to bubble from Jaune's core. Unlike the usual cool sensation he attributed to his Aura, the sensation felt more...alive. It didn't bend to his will so much as he simply directed it. However as the warmth continued to surge through him, he could not deny the rush it gave him. Exhausted muscles sprang back to life, the fatigue he had been managing all but gone and his senses sharper than they had been just moments before. Maybe it was just a trick of the mind, maybe Jaune simply wanted to believe that his friend was supporting him from beyond the grave.

Whatever the case, Jaune knew one thing was certain: Maybe, juuussst maybe, Pyrrha was right.

Taking a breath, the Blonde Knight prepares himself, his aura flaring to life as he dug his heels into the ruined floor. Pressing through and jumping the ground splinters as the Blonde is sent skyward, the heat engulfing his body cooled by the billowing wind encompassing him. Bellow him the King Taijitu simply watched, its twin heads swaying in seeming anticipation. Reaching the apex of the jump, Jaune twisted himself around; Facing the Grimm below head first as his body began the long plummet down to earth. Closer and closer, faster and faster he fell, Jaune brought his arm forward and with a twitch of his fingers deployed his new shield. Nearly buckling the arm beneath the resistance, again the warmth comes to his aid, steadying his arm and preparing him for what was to come.

With a roar, Jaune steeled his nerves and readied himself for impact.

Roman Torchwick was dead.

Having watched the whole of the recording the conman had left, the Grimmwalker was unsure how to feel. On the one hand he and Roman had never gotten along, even back when Arsenal had been to Beacon. On the other it was essentially the man's last wish and while it wasn't exactly for him, Arsenal was qualified to do it. Leaning forward in his seat, Arsenal could not help but sigh and run a hand through his grayed locks. Looking to the woman he now knew to be Neopolitan, her heterochromatic eyes focused on him.

"I can see why Junior offered me in particular." Arsenal says, watching the girls eyebrow raise.

Chuckling, Arsenal slides a hand onto the table, grabbing the projector and slipping it into his pocket.

"Tell me, what do you know about Huntsman. And I don't mean the weapons and all that, I mean how they operate." He asks, the girl giving a shrug in response before rolling her eyes.

So nothing, got it.

"Well, let me tell you. See you've got your C-Class which is the polite way of saying 'student huntsman', you've got your B through S classes, which are your serious 'I have a licence Huntsman' and then there's the people like me: The X-Class." Arsenal quickly explains, counting them on his fingers for good measures.

"The X-Class itself isn't something unique, in fact it's more of an attachment to a prior class of licence than anything." He continues, watching the 'no shit' look continue to prevail on Neo's face.

"However, that distinction is important because it means I'm qualified to hunt the most dangerous creatures on Remnant: Humans and Faunus." The Grimmwalker finishes, finally seeing the light bulb go off over her head.

It was probably the nicest way he could describe his profession, which was essentially a licenced manhunter and Huntsman killer. However it was a necessary evil, one that every kingdom of Remnant understood. After all, if they did not understand the need for Huntsman who were ready and willing to do the dirtiest work they wouldn't have a legal licence for it. That wasn't even factoring in the moral and social stigma that came with putting that black little 'X' on his licence, but it had been something Arsenal had always been particularly skilled at.

That wasn't to say he enjoyed his work, he was simply one of the few people who could stomach it.

Returning his attention to the girl, Arsenal nearly jumps out of his skin as she was now nearly inches from his face, her eyes sparkling in practical excitement. He wasn't sure if it was simply because he was now 'cool bad boy' or if the idea of being able to legally murder people was what had peaked her interest. Either way the sudden and near complete violation of his personal space bothered him. Leaning back into his chair it seemed to take Neo a moment to recognize that perhaps, just perhaps, it had been a bit too close.

Watching her scoot back and stand up, the gray haired huntsman let himself relax.

"Not going to lie, in all the time I've been doing this you're the first person to have that kind of reaction to my job." He says flatly, only for the girl to stick out her tongue in response.

She was a strange one alright, however given that she had been Torchwick's associate that was to be expected. Sure Arsenal had been more preoccupied with larger threats in the last years of his career, there was no way to ignore the four years that he and his team had spent dealing with the man and his predecessor. But even then, the now-dead criminal had a flair for bringing together strange bedfellows. However, he had also been smart enough to keep such fringe elements under control...something Arsenal doubted Neapolitan could manage.

But that was not his place to say.

"Well, I suppose that concludes our business then." The Huntsman wonders aloud, getting a nod in response from the otherwise quiet criminal.

"I will start putting out my feelers when I get back in contact with the outside world. While I can't promise any quick results, I will do what I can." He adds, getting to his feet and extending a hand.

For a moment Neo stares at the extended hand before taking it. It was strange, Arsenal had to admit, shaking hands with the now crime boss of one of the biggest cartels on Remnant. While he had certainly done so in the past due to his need to get close to targets, this was the first time he genuinely sought to seal a deal. Mind you, the deal consisted of doing what he was probably going to be tasked with anyway but that was neither here nor there.

Following the shorter woman out of the ruined penthouse and back into the hall, Arsenal watched as with a simple button press the pair of gold inlaid doors to the elevator slid open. Normally this would not be an issue, however given the fact that Junior had mentioned not even half an hour earlier that the elevators were nonfunctional an issue was to be had. Stepping into the lift alongside his companion, Arsenal had to ask:

"Let me guess, the elevators work fine and Junior's just fucking with me?"

To her credit, Neopolitan was entirely caught off guard by the question; Given the confused look she gave. Though the confusion quickly turned to muted laughter as the now Crime Lord no doubt took amusement at the rather simple prank that had been played upon him. While Arsenal himself certainly saw the humor in it, the thought of getting back at the Bartender took immediate president.

"You know given the state of things it's awfully nice of your bar to be serving free drinks." The Veteran Hunter idly states as he steps from the elevator back into the ruined club level of the building.

Not hearing the footsteps of the girl beside him, Arsenal kept his amusement to himself; Instead wishing that the revenge he had gotten would be just as easy as tracking down Cinder Fall.

Things were going...well, Jaune wasn't exactly sure how they were going.

Having collided with the King Taijitu's waiting maw shield first, the Blonde had expected a far worse result. However instead of his arm buckling and shattering under the force as he had expected, the impact had managed to swat the goliath beast's head aside. Sure, it had hurt like hell but he had managed to hit it hard. While the white head was already moving to snap at the Knight, the black one that had been fortunate enough to taste his shield, was limp. Jaune had doubts that he had killed the head, but it bought him time.

And time was worth his weight in gold for every second he had.

Diving to the side, Jaune managed to roll to his feet as the pale head of the serpentine Grimm plough into the torn ground he had occupied. Looking up at its massive soulless eye, he dug his heels and sprung, his body being propelled by a mix of adrenaline, aura and suicidal confidence. Closing the gap in a few seconds the Blonde Knight brought his blade back, its blade shimmering with the familiar white glow of his aura. Like a hot knife through butter the new Crocea Mors pierced the scaled flesh, digging into the flesh beneath as a sound akin to wheezing steam burst from the Grimm's mouth. It was a victory in Jaune's mind, or it least it was up until the Grimm began to thrash and writhe.

Jaune had essentially become a bull rider; Except the bull was far larger and his saddle consisted of a freshly impaled sword.

Holding on for dear life, Jaune felt like his arms were being ripped off; Such was the force with which the King Taijitu thrashed. If Jaune had anything else on his mind, he'd probably compare it to being a tick on a dog. Unfortunately for Jaune, the only thing on his mind was trying desperately not let go. Transforming the impaled sword, the Blonde Knight had hoped that the larger shaft would provide a better grip. What he was not prepared for, however, was the segmentation of his grip.

With a yelp of surprise and an internal curse at his mistake, Jaune was sent spiraling away.

Jerking to a halt as his body impacted and buckled a toppled over car, the blonde's vision swimming from the blow. Pulling himself free of his impromptu metallic safety net, Jaune was again thankful for his aura. If he lacked it there was no questioning he would have just become a red smear on a broken car. Shakey as his legs were, he was still standing, and weapon or no weapon he was still alive.

He still had a chance.

Looking at the twin-headed serpent, Jaune formed a very simple plan: Get back Crocea Mors and kill the King Taijitu. Sure in hindsight he had actually made the whole ordeal more complicated by losing his weapon, but that was a whole other argument. Bringing his shield up, the weaponless knight stood his ground. Without a weapon going on the offense was pointless; Thankfully if there was one thing Jaune was it was durable. Watching as both heads of the beast turn to face him once again the feeling of warmth overcame him.

I hope you're watching up there, Pyrrha.

With that thought in mind Jaune watched as the twin snakes surged forward in a tidal wave of Grimmflesh. Closer and closer they came, and yet still Jaune stood unflinching, his eyes flicking from the pair of heads to his still impaled weapon. If the Knight was going to see this through he was going to have to time it perfectly, something the teen would not attribute to himself. It was a suicidal plan in every way, but as the snakes massive heads came within a dozen feet the option to reconsider was well and truly gone. Retracting his shield in its entirety, Jaune flared his Aura throughout his entire body and charged.

He had one shot, however he had a number of things working in his favor.

First and foremost he had his size which, while small in comparison to the King Taijitu, paid for itself at such close range. So long as he could stay mobile in theory he would be able to avoid its bites. Second was the Grimm's momentum, which at this point was far too great for them to course correct as the Blonde continued to charge forward. The last, and perhaps the greatest advantage, was his intellect; Because while the black head of the Grimm saw a meal, Jaune saw a crucial mistake. Kicking as hard as he could with his right foot, Jaune catapulted himself to the left.

Right in the direction of his still impaled Crocea Mors.

Slamming into the wall of flesh and muscle that was the King Taijitu's side, Jaune grasped the elongated handle and pulled; A spew of near-black ichor bubbling from the open wound. Looking behind him Jaune was glad to see that sure enough the black head of the Grimm was still after him, its maw wide open and hoping to seal his fate. However, Jaune was not done and jumped again, barely clearing the nose of the would-be killer Grimm in the process.

Come on, come on. The teen thought to himself, spinning the spear in his hand and charging it with every ounce of Aura he could muster. Stayyy riiiiggggghhhttt THERE!

Throwing the spear with all his might Jaune watched as the red and bronze missile seemed to explode into motion, a white trail of energy following behind it as the impromptu stake hit its mark. Driving through the roof of the massive Grimm's jaw, its fangs being forced down by the impact. However it wasn't enough and with a cry the beast begins to raise its head only for Jaune to slam into it, his shield crashing down atop the Spear's pommel. This does the trick and with a sound akin to rending fabric the King Taijitu's fangs sink into its own flesh, the white head shrieking as its muscles spasm before going limp.

Jaune had done it.

Though before the exhausted Huntsman could even begin to celebrate his victory, sight of black and red flakes all around him became apparent. It was no secret that Grimm corpses often disintegrated within minutes of their demise, but never had Jaune dreaded the fact until now. Immediately he moves to try and get to his feet, but what strength he had was gone with his Aura; His body no longer able to draw upon the sweet sustenance of his souls strength. He had survived the fight and given everything he had, but as his body fell back to earth he had only one thought.

You were right.

There were few times that The Dixie felt that a deal was genuinely in his favor.

That was simply the nature of business in many cases, making deals that strengthened you and ruined your competitors. After all, it had been how Alexander had gotten to where he was now. But looking at the face of Salem within the shifting fog of her Grimm messenger, he could see no real downside to the bargain yet.

"So let me get this straight, just so we're on the level here: You're giving me a fix for my condition and a seat at your whole 'New Order' in exchange for me doing what I was going to do anyway?" He asks.

Salem gives him a smile, though then again he wasn't exactly sure if it was a smile or a trick of the fog.

"That is a most simple way of putting it, but yes. A cure, a position of power and the resources to do whatever you so wish in exchange for your assistance." The woman answers, her voice slightly muddled by whatever enabled the Grimm to speak with her voice.

"You know, this deal sounds almost too good to be true." Alexander points out, leaning back into the plush hardwood chair he sat himself in.

"Of that I have no question. So allow me to show you a gesture of goodwill. In four days time I have prepared a sizeable 'distraction' for the Huntsman who defend the city. A perfect opportunity for you to make your escape." Salem assures.

"And how can you be so certain your little distraction won't end up with me in its sights?" The Showman counters.

A low, amused chuckle escapes the Grimm as Salem's mouthpiece bobbed forward.

"While I cannot give away all of my tricks, I promise you my 'pets' will not cause you harm. Though I can't say the same for the humans."

Well, not becoming Grimm food was at least a comfort.

"Are we in agreement then?" Salem asks, the bulbous Grimm now hovering only a few feet from the entertainer turned criminal.

For a long time Alexander is quiet, his mind mulling over the deal a number of times. It was front loaded with everything the man could want, but normally the most honeyed deals were the most dangerous. But at the same time if someone was this powerful, that the control of Grimm was child's play? At this point turning down the deal would be the most dangerous move; And that wasn't even factoring in the figure who had simply been standing there.

At the end of the day Alexander Palmer had only one option, or at least one option that would assure his continued survival.

"We are." The Dixie states, extending a hand to the Grimm.

Strange as it was, the creature extended a bladed tentacle, the showman grabbing it and giving it as close to what a handshake could be to it.

Watching the bulb hover back to the stranger, Salem speaks one last time.

"Licorice, if you would be so kind as to stay with our new associate. I would hate for him to be delayed during his departure of Vale." And with that the bulb retreats under the figures cloak, who for the first time since the meeting had began speaks up.

"Of course, Master. Well, Alexander old buddy old pal, welcome to the winning team." The now revealed Licorice declares, a wide predatory smile appearing from beneath the hood.