What up, peeps?

It's me. I wrote another chapter. Which is good news, because according to the little view counter thingy we're over 100 views now, which is great! That's like a milestone or something. Oh, and none of you guessed the name of the protagonist. None of you even tried. (Xera Stark, I'm sorry but you don't count since you already know.) I am deeply, genuinely hurt. And I'm keeping my five bucks!

So here we are with chapter four, and I suppose I'll go ahead and let you read it, but I'm fairly pumped about how it ends. Oh, a reminder: this is a T-rated fic, and you'll find some tastefully applied, but still mildly explicit, language in this chapter, so just a heads-up. Anywho, have fun reading!

The steady mechanical hum of a Millington Diamond Series V6 racing engine carried clearly through the mid-afternoon air, right outside a club in the outskirts of Vale proper. It was gradually increasing in volume, a deep throaty sound that gave the sort of feeling one might get when on the sidelines of a Formula 1 race, waiting for that exhilarating moment when the cars zoom past right in front of the audience, in a blur so quickly they can't even be seen. And yet, as the automobile that was the source of this noise drew closer to the club, anyone who might have hoped for such a feeling would be growing steadily more confused.

By that time of day, after the first security Breach of the kingdom of Vale in recent history, the invasion of the creatures of Grimm had finally been sealed off. There were still a good number of stray beasts roaming the various districts of town, though, and it was one of these – a Beowolf – that found itself in the path of the said car. It was stalking along in the usual Grimm-ly fashion, raising its head occasionally to sniff the air for signs of prey, when suddenly it caught wind of something.

The wolf Grimm searched left and right, forward and behind for the source of the scent it had caught. Its eyes narrowed, for it knew the smell of a human when it found one, and it definitely smelled one just then. It was still looking when the humming engine from before came close enough to draw its attention. It turned to the side in time for a 1997 four-door Mini Cooper to crash into it rather abruptly at a speed of thirty-five miles per hour.

Muffled electric guitar music emanated from the interior of the blue vehicle, decorated with white racing stripes, when engine and music both were turned off and a surprised "Whoa!" came from inside.

The driver exited the car in alarm. A tall young man, almost towering in fact, pushed the door open with a squeak and got out, rising to his full height. He wore a gray and blue shirt and khaki cargo pants visible underneath a white haori – a long, open coat with short sleeves (A/N: For reference, Minato Namikaze from Naruto wears one). His most distinctive feature, though, was the shock of unruly azure hair that fell down almost over his eyes. The young man strode to the front of the vehicle to give it a thorough inspection, then cast a sidelong glance at the Beowolf he had plowed through.

The creature of Grimm was back on its feet, dazed but aggressive nonetheless. It had been stabbed, shot, beaten, clawed, bitten, and stomped on, but never before had it been rammed with an economy-size sedan. The confused beast shook itself, then charged at the young man with a guttural growl.

The blue-haired teenager turned to block the first swipe of the Beowolf's claws with his forearm. It tried to strike at his chest, inside his guard, but he grabbed the clawed limb with his free hand, restraining the attack and giving the claw a firm shake. The Beowolf's red eyes glared at him with suspicious confusion.

"Hi." The teen said with a handshake and a smile. "Blue Zorimatsu. Nice to meet you."

The Beowolf was lifted off its feet by a sudden pull as Blue grabbed its arm with both hands. Feet planted firmly on the ground, he swung it in a wide circle, building up rotational force. The wolf-like Grimm let out a whine as the whole world except for the blue-haired teen rotated around it. Then Blue let go, and allowed the Beowolf's inertia to carry it a good thirty feet through the air, sailing directly into one of several concrete piles that held up an overhead bridge.

After watching the corpse of the Grimm dissolve into shadowy vapors, Blue dusted off his hands and turned back to the Mini, undamaged in its encounter with the Beowolf's face. The car might've been fine, but the gas tank was also empty, so a quick look around led him here – the closest place to ask directions.

Blue walked to the back of the Mini and popped the trunk open. From the space he took an olive drab messenger bag and slipped it over his shoulder. Next came a heavy pistol; he pulled the clip and checked the ammunition load before reinserting it and slipping the firearm into his bag. Some spare clips, a medkit, food rations - you never knew what might happen. He set them aside, but paused at the last item.

An oblong cloth-wrapped bundle, tied up with tattered, fading, bronze-colored thread, laid in the bottom of the trunk. Blue reached in and picked up the bundled object, hefting the weight in his hand. He pulled on the tassels at the end of the threads that tied it together and let the folds of fabric fall to the sides. In his hands the blue-haired teen held a long, curved sword enclosed in a slim sheath. The outer layers of the sheath were black, with a blue cloth grip extending several inches from the open end. Three buttons - red, light blue and gold - adorned the edge of the sheath, hinting at an additional function.

He grasped the sheath near the opening with one hand and the hilt of the sword with the other, feeling the smooth texture of the handle. Then in a single swift movement, he whipped the sword out of the sheath with barely a whisper, spinning it once and ending the stroke with the blade held out in front of him. Blue turned the sword sideways to examine it, angling the steel so it caught the light in a luminous ribbon across the polished metal. The blade was in the style of an eastern nodachi, about five feet long plus an eighteen inch hilt and gently curving throughout its length. The grip was wrapped in ray skin and deep blue cotton, and the guard depicted a dragon wreathed in clouds entwining the blade. Unlike its high-tech scabbard, the sword was old, older in fact than most people. It had been ancient back before the first battles of the Great War were even fought; an heirloom passed down for generations upon generations and cared for so reverently that it was no less sharp now than the day it was forged.

Sheath and sword were leaned on his shoulder casually. Blue closed the trunk and turned toward the building he'd pulled up alongside. Its location in the industrial district and the fact that it had some fancy décor, but was practically deserted made the place appear to be a nightclub. Not exactly a 7/11, but someone in there ought to be able to point me in the right direction. He grabbed his nodachi and went inside.

The entrance doors were obnoxiously large considering the function of the building. Blue pushed one of them open hesitantly, peering into the club's interior. The prominent theme was glass; transparent panes covered the walls and floors, and holographic trees rotated on free-standing columns. Stage lights also hung from the ceiling, but the more outstanding effects of the club like strobes and pulsing dance music were absent during the middle of the day. Several employees dressed in identical suits and red sunglasses were loitering around, since they didn't seem to have much work to do at the moment. As Blue crossed the open dance floor area, he noticed how many of them stared at him openly, including one up in the DJ's balcony next to a hollow bear head. Wow. Awkward. He straightened up and walked faster.

Upon reaching what seemed to be a bar, the blue-themed swordsman took a seat at one of the bar stools. A tall man in a red vest and white shirt who'd been leaning against the wall took a look at him and sniffed. Blue waited patiently at the counter, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for something to happen. Once it became clear that he wasn't going to just leave, the tall man sighed and made his way over to him.

"Isn't it a little early in the day to be visiting a nightclub, kid?" he asked in a deep voice.

"Well, I don't know. That depends." Blue scratched his head. "Do you have root beer?"

"No," said the bartender. "We serve real drinks here, and I doubt you're even old enough for those."

"So you don't have root beer."

"Yes."

"Yes, you do have it, or yes, I'm right that you don't?"

"We don't have root beer, dumbass."

"Well, do you have regular beer?"

"Of course we have regular beer."

"How about seasonal beer?

"We have pumpkin ale, but somehow I doubt you'll order that." The man was getting annoyed.

"So you have normal beer."

"Yes."

"And you have pumpkin beer."

"Yes." A vein was bulging visibly on his forehead.

"But not root beer."

"Oh my god, we don't have root beer, you moron!"

Blue sat for a moment, rather taken aback by the man's outburst.

"…"

"Do you have birch beer-"

"SHUT UP!" The man yelled. His face was so red it almost matched the deep crimson of his vest.

"Your head looks like it's about to explode," Blue pointed out.

"You look like you're about to explode!" The furious man slammed his fists into the countertop, then reached beneath it for something nestled between rows of clinking glasses.

"Out of the of the two of us, why do you think I'd be the one who's more likely to explode? If you don't mind my asking." Blue piqued the question as several of the club's staff began to slowly back away with expressions of alarm. From under the counter, the man withdrew a large red tube and mounted it on his shoulder with a grimace as he pointed the rocket launcher straight at his irritating customer.

"Oh. Makes more sense now." Blue remarked as he grabbed his sword and planted his feet on the counter, pushing off and flying into the air away from the armed bartender.

"The name's Junior, punk, and you shouldn't mess with me!" he roared, and pulled the trigger.

From the barrel of the launcher sprang half a dozen miniature rockets, all of which proceeded to spiral erratically toward the airborne Blue. Dammit! How do I always get into these situations!? The swordsman panicked internally as the rockets homed in on their target, leaving white smoke trails in their wake. He had to act.

Blue gripped his sword and sheath, fingers positioned directly over the three colored buttons on the sheath's grip. The rockets were inches away when he pressed down on the second button, light blue, and a snowflake lit up on its surface. An azure glow spread down a line at the sheath's center, and Blue drew his sword.

It wasn't flashy, really. Just a sword strike. Three sky-blue crescents lit up the club, all within an instant of each other, and then the curved sword was sheathed again. He landed in a crouch on the glass floor, followed by a series of thumps as six chunks of frozen ordnance hit the ground along with him.

He stood to face Junior again. The club owner scowled, swinging the rocket launcher by its end. Its cylindrical sections telescoped into each other, condensing into a thick metal bat. He leapt at Blue, shifting his whole body into a heavy swing. Crap!

The swordsman jumped, barely in time to avoid a crushing blow, and managed a hasty block with his sheath at the next hit. His aura took some bruises for both attacks, but the next swing left Junior open and Blue took his chance. Jumping forward, he shouldered into the other man to throw his swing off. Junior tried to correct, but Blue spun around and planted his free hand on the chest of the sharply-dressed man.

"You know, I really am sorry about this." he expressed apologetically. Junior felt a jolt of searing pain in his chest, moving through his torso and through his legs into the ground. His muscles contracted in response to the electrical shock, spasming wildly, and the next thing he knew he'd been thrown backward into the counter, groaning in pain.

Junior pushed himself up, grabbing his weapon in rocket launcher form and brought it to bear on Blue. The swordsman stepped back, but he knew this wasn't right. Blue dropped his nodachi, waving his hands as he walked toward Junior. "Whoa, whoa, no need to blow up your nice tidy club. Or me. Listen, can we just talk about this?"

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not worth it, but I'm not sure I actually believe that." Junior's breaths were heavy, winded as he was, and he looked like he might still shoot Blue even though he was only a few feet away.

"Look, I seriously feel bad for coming in and getting in a fight. All I really need to know is where there's a gas station around here." Blue rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Can I just leave and that'll be that?"

Junior hesitated, considering the teen's offer. On one hand, this kid really, really deserved a missile to the face. On the other, he definitely didn't want a repeat of what had happened with the blonde. He was still paying out workers' compensation for the hurt she'd laid on his staff, and that was four months ago.

Blue had been holding his breath, but he exhaled in a sigh of relief when he saw his opponent lower the rocket launcher. Not going to get hit with explosives… That's good. "So… yeah. Just need to get gas."

Junior massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "There aren't any gas stations in Vale. Cars run on Dust fuel, if you hadn't noticed in years of living in the present. Please leave."

Blue opened his mouth to thank the man, but Junior held up his hand. "Just… just go." He closed his mouth again and jogged over to the counter to grab his bag before turning toward the door.

The club's suited employees stared with dropped jaws from their hiding places. Not many people who walked in and angered Junior walked out again afterward. Usually they crawled. Or were dragged. The tall blue-haired swordsman had unknowingly become one of a select group of elite persons who had defied their boss and lived to tell the tale.

Blue had his hand on the door when a strange noise made him pause. It was a weird rumbling, like stuff was hitting the roof. He looked up to the ceiling, searching for any such phenomena, but found only some dust motes floating lazily in the air, illuminated by the stage lights. And then the ceiling caved in.

He didn't even have time to say or think anything about it. The ceiling was sagging right over him, but all he got out was "Ack!" before the entire top half of the club seemed to fall on him. Lots of concrete and rubble, dust and rocks, and a row of the stage lights poured out of the hole, the flow staunching only after several seconds of rumbling and shaking had taken place.

Blue groaned and shifted beneath the pile of disheveled rubble. Aura was nice. It healed wounds. It blunted attacks. It kept pointy things from killing him. But it didn't stop falling roofs from hurting like hell. He clutched the knot quickly growing on the back of his head, pushing some thick stone slabs aside and sitting up.

Something else stirred and groaned beneath the dust and debris, and Blue froze. Was there someone…? He scrambled up and shoveled chunks of broken building off whatever it was until the person's body was mostly uncovered.

Layered in a coating of dirt and grime was a girl, about his age, crumpled in a heap and completely unconscious. She was dressed mostly in orange, with red hair and a heavy machine gun strapped around her shoulder. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and she didn't seem to have any serious external injuries.

Blue sat on his knees next to her, bent over and ready to help, yet not quite sure what to do. Most of the suits around him were just gawking unhelpfully. I really hope this doesn't come down to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He was spared that indignity, though, as the girl began coughing gently, eyelids fluttering as her brain reorganized all its discombobulated signals.

"Hey." Blue reached over to place his hand on her arm as the mystery girl pushed herself up. She stopped, turning her head pointedly to look at his hand. Blue removed it.

"Do you know where you are?" he probed. Seemed like a safe question.

The girl was brushing the dust off herself, and she answered offhand. "Well, I certainly hope I'm still in Vale. Otherwise I will have been thrown quite farther than I'd like to think about." She reached down to dust off her skirt, but hissed in pain when her aching muscles tried to move too far.

"Well then, no problems there. You're in a club in the industrial district." Blue scratched his head. "So, um… I guess I'll start with 'who are you', and then if that works out we can try 'how did you get here?'"

The mystery girl gave him a funny look, but responded nonetheless. "Natalie Dryas, Huntress-in-training. I got a bunch of explosive stuff blown up on me and I guess it threw me across town." She patted the sides of her legs to search for something, then reached into a side pocket on her skirt to remove a white scroll. When her finger touched the button on its center, it expanded to full length – about seven inches – and brought up a home screen filled with apps.

Natalie looked at it in surprise. "I honestly wasn't expecting this thing to still work." She pulled up the combat screen and checked her aura level, wincing when she saw that it had dwindled down to the 10% range. "I must've really taken a hit." A pause. " Well, actually, I guess I did fall like five hundred feet after bombs exploded on me."

"Wow. Rough day." Blue remarked. Natalie nodded tiredly in agreement.

She was seated in a chair Blue had found, sipping from a glass of ice water. Blue was leaning on his elbows over the tabletop, eyelids at half-mast in lethargic boredom. Some club staff had cleaned up the broken ceiling, and they were working on patching the hole while Junior oversaw the process. He was pretty much about to fall asleep when the purple guy walked in.

Rapid footsteps outside the door drew Blue's gaze to the entrance, which was thrown open by an oddly dressed young man. He had on a purple shirt, tan pants and this weird scarf thing that was honestly just confusing. He was panting like he'd run the whole way there.

"Um… hello-" Blue started, but the newest arrival ignored him, instead holding his eyes closed for a minute then opening them to look at Natalie.

"Weird," he spoke. "You were in the air a few minutes ago. Can you fly?"

Natalie was still processing the appearance of the young man when she realized he was addressing her. "Um, no?" she responded. "I was... thrown. Who are you, exactly?" Her brow was furrowed in confusion. "And how do you know it was me? Heck, how did you even know anybody was up in the air?" She glared at him suspiciously. "You're not a bird watcher, are you? Just searching the skies for random avian life and happened to see me?"

The purple-clad figure bowed with a flourish. "I'm Cyril Bingani. Nice to meet you. No, I'm not a bird watcher, for whatever reason that would be important."

Natalie sniffed. "Good. I hate bird watchers."

"As for how I noticed you, my eyes were closed and I was focused. I sensed your aura. Burnt orange, unless I'm mistaken. That's also how I can tell that the person I detected earlier is also you."

"Wait, so you can just sense auras?" Blue interrupted. "That's kind of an arbitrary talent to have."

"It's my Semblance. When I focus I can sense auras, among other things. It happens to work a lot better with my eyes closed." Cyril was waving his hands gently as he talked, which Blue actually found helpful in understanding his explanation. "So that's how I got here, to…" He looked around. "Um, a night club."

"Wow, funny story about that. So I was driving along and I ran out of gas, so I had to stop in here-" Blue started but was cut off.

"Yeah, yeah. We all care so much about how everybody got here. Whoop-de-doo. Does anyone actually have an important reason for being in this random club in the middle of the day?" Natalie demanded.

That's a good question. Blue considered her inquiry, delving into his mind for answers, but came up empty-handed. He looked over at Cyril, but the monk appeared to be in the same boat with him.

"No?" Natalie turned back and forth between them. "Nobody? Going once, going twice…?" Blue and Cyril shook their heads. "Then I'm leaving. You can come along or you can't, whatever you want."

"Yeah!" shouted Junior from across the club. "If you have no reason to be here, I'm putting up a no-loitering sign!"

"Shut up!" Natalie hollered. "I wasn't talking to you!"

The three warriors – blue, orange and purple – made for an odd sight as they walked down the street away from Junior's club. Natalie walked with her hands behind her head and her feet kicking way out in front of her, in a relaxed I-don't-care kind of way. Cyril and Blue took more normal steps, but the monk had to quicken his pace to keep up with the longer strides of the other two.

Blue stretched his arms above his head. "Man, this is just a weird day. I mean, Grimm invasion, fighting a bartender, roofs caving in on me…"

"Fighting giant metal Death Stalkers and winning," Natalie chimed in.

The tall youth shot a glance at his companion in surprise. "You fought a giant metal Grimm? What, did someone decide to turn humanity's deadliest enemy into a science project?"

"Mm-hm. Forty feet tall, or thereabouts. Had armor plating and stuff. It was really tough, but I totally wrecked a warehouse on top of it." A toothy grin spread over Natalie's face at the thought. "That part was fun."

"But not the blowing up part." Blue added.

"Definitely not the blowing up part. But hey, maybe it was a new species or something!" Natalie speculated with excitement. "The very first giant mechanical Grimm in the world, and I got to kill it! Maybe they'll even let me name it. Now what would be good to call such a thing…?"

"Actually, I encountered a similar creature." Cyril stated. Natalie turned to look at him in horrified anguish, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks as her dreams of going down in the history books melted away before her eyes.

"Really?" Blue asked as he and Cyril walked around Natalie, oblivious to her tragic loss. "I wonder if the two were related."

"Well, the Grimm I fought was a mechanical Creep, so they were different base species."

"What kind of stuff did it have? Like, how was it modified?"

"Hmm… there was the armored skull and claws, and I distinctly recall it breathing fire at me. And there was something else strange about it, too. Obviously someone made it artificially, but I found an odd device attached with a camera, like someone was watching it." The monk stepped over Natalie, who was laying on the ground and gasping for breath as she clutched at an imaginary dagger in her heart.

"So do you think someone really is manufacturing them? Like a coordinated strike or something?"

"That thought did cross my mind. It's just despicable to think about anyone who'd want to engineer an invasion on one of Remnant's biggest population centers. And they're practically a force of nature, too; however they managed to do it, it wasn't easy."

"That's the biggest question, though. Who? Not everyone can just subdue a Grimm and do surgery on it." The swordsman's brow furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, Natalie put her hand to her forehead and swooned behind them.

Cyril shook his head. "For one thing, we have no leads. For another, I doubt we'll be able to track any down. I'm not sure about you, but I'm new here. I don't even have an apartment or anything yet, so this whole thing is going to go nowhere fast."

Natalie popped up next to them, having abandoned her dramatic production after failing to elicit any reaction. "Yep, same. If you do manage to get an apartment, though, you should totally let me stay there."

"Why?"

"What? You can't find room in your heart to provide housing and a warm meal to a girl who just lived through a citywide invasion and was thrown about a mile through the air by bombs?" Natalie put on a pouty face. "You're mean!"

Blue chuckled in amusement at Natalie's haggling, stretching his arms behind him. The mid-afternoon sun was blocked by some of the taller buildings near the street as they walked down the sidewalk. In the aftermath of the breach, which appeared to have been taken care of, some level of normality was beginning to resumes in Vale. He could hear a conglomerate of noises that didn't seem to include screaming, gunshots, or explosions. So that was good.

The streets even looked pretty clear. People were starting to come back out from their homes to the street again. Blue peered down the street to get a better look at some of them. Boy, people sure are excited about the thing being over. There was a whole big crowd of them walking down the street toward them.

That's… actually a lot of people to find hanging around in the industrial district. They're, like, congregating. Weirdly. Is there a parade or something?

"Uh. Guys." Blue muttered sideways to his companions, not taking his eyes off the group of people.

"Guy and girl." Natalie corrected him. Cyril rolled his eyes, evidently somewhat annoyed that she hadn't given up mooching off his future residence.

"Yeah. That. Whatever. Do those look like people to you?" The tall swordsman pointed to the distance. "They seem to be wearing an awful lot of dark clothing."

"Let me check." Cyril offered, stopping to close his eyes. Natalie and Blue halted as well, waiting patiently for his verdict. The monk stood with his eyes closed and arms crossed, concentrating on the mass of people(?) down the street for a good twenty seconds. Then he opened them back up.

"Nope."

"So, not people." Blue asked, his hopes fading rapidly.

"Well, there's one person. Aura was faint, but there's definitely someone over the rooftops heading this way." Cyril explained.

"Wait, so all those people aren't people? Was there a pet store jailbreak or something?" Natalie asked.

Cyril shrugged. "Well, we can ask whoever it is that's on the roofs. They're coming this way."

"He or she," Blue corrected Cyril's grammar automatically.

"He or she is binary and discriminating." Natalie argued. "We don't know what that person is like, or if that's what their pronouns are."

"We'll ask them that too." Cyril pointed to a dark figure on the edge of a rooftop high over their heads. As they watched, the person leapt off the corner of the building, grabbing onto a drainpipe that ran down the wall and sliding down nimbly.

"Hey!" Blue yelled. "What's the deal?"

Natalie shouted at them before they could even see what the new arrival looked like. "WHAT'RE YOUR PRONOUNS!?" The person walked over, not giving Natalie a strange look, which Blue found in itself to be strange.

"Greetings." Whoever it was seemed to prefer dressing like a government agent. "I am a female, since you asked. My name is Catherine O'Neill, but I generally prefer to be called Agent 1."

Cyril opened his mouth, presumably to respond politely, but Blue completely cut him off. "Yeah. Weird nickname. Whatever. Is that giant mass of people a good thing or a bad one?"

Catherine turned to face him. "Those are Grimm. If you are by chance proficient in combat, I would appreciate your help in deterring them."

The four of them turned to face the now rapidly approaching herd of Grimm. "They must have been drawn by your aura." Cyril speculated.

Natalie reached for her gun. "And now there's four of us. Together. And they're coming this way."

Blue gulped. Oh, crap.

What? You thought there was going to be one little introductory chapter for each main character? Like the trailers?

WRONG!

Technically, even though they're labeled chapters 1-4, you've actually read what I consider to be chapters 1-3 and then 3 ½. So there's definitely gonna be an epic climax next chapter. It looks like I do actually tend to do new chapter posts on every other weekend or thereabouts, so check then if you're following faithfully. Or you could follow the fic. That would be way easier because the site would just tell you. It'd be cool if you favorited and reviewed it, too. Alright, be seein' ya!