The Craft District was an unattractive site choking on smoke and covered in soot. The only color to the district were the fiery flares of the workshops occasionally brightening the charcoaled streets. Captain Ashur preferred the green of the forest over this pallid place. Still, the grim setting was a small price to pay for the sheer invention birthed here. Thanks in no small part to Marcus Vulcan. Even an old-fashioned man such as Captain Ashur could see that.

His Lieutenant approached from behind, "Captain, its time."

Ashur looked over the faces of his Rangers, faces he's known for years. Expressions blank, eyes focused on the battle to come. Their enemy were brutes to hear the City Guard tell it. Savage and ferocious. But to those sorry excuses for security a kitchen mouse might appear threatening. The Rangers live and serve outside Refuge's cozy walls. They fend off bandits and Grimm on a daily basis. How could these revolting citizens hope to stand a chance?

Still, it wasn't wise to rush in without proper recognizance. Any good commander knew that. Underestimating the enemy was flirting with disaster and the Captain was no flirt. So, he sent scouts to hover just on the edge of the Craft District and observe their enemy. They were more organized than he anticipated. These Mud District folk had at least one person on their side who knew what they were doing. They quickly spotted the Ranger scouts and not long after that they reinforced their patrol. Wooden clubs were quickly traded in with military grade assault rifles. There'd be a fight, no doubt about it. At least he knew now why they were dragged into this in the first place. The City Guard have grown lazy and soft behind their walls. Unfit it seemed to even maintain control over their own city.

The Ranger Division were spread thin throughout the surrounding landscape. It took the better part of the night for the whole Division to gather. Little over forty good men and women, called in to clean up other people's messes. To end this doomed revolt while it still slept coiled in its crib. The notion of stomping out the flame of whatever sparked this rebellion didn't sit well with Captain Ashur. Yet, perhaps it was best this way.

They waited for midnight tucked away in the shadow of a Vulcan Industries workshop. The cover of night would give them the advantage to infiltrate the Buffer and close the distance before the patrol even knew they were there. The Mud District may be organized but discipline is something achieved over years of hard training. Ashur knew, once their assault broke through their patrol, panic and confusion would grip the rest and they'd scatter to the wind. At least he hoped. If they were foolishly brave enough to stand their ground then it would mean unnecessary bloodshed.

With a sigh, Ashur addressed his Rangers. "Remember, our job is just to drive them out of the Buffer. No killing unless as a last resort. We need this to be quiet. The less blood spilled the better." Affirming nods followed by another routine check of their weapons. Satisfied, the Captain led his Rangers out from their hiding place. Few wandered the Craft District this time of night and those that did kept to themselves. They all averted their gaze as if paid to do so. The thought made him sick. These workers weren't as lucky as those in other districts. They couldn't feign ignorance like the rest. They knew. They saw. All they could do was focus on their work. Let the whirring of machines and cranking of gears block out the noise to come.

Nearing the Buffer, the Captain unsheathed his khopesh. The crescent blade gleamed from the flying sparks of the smithies. The nicked and scratched blade was a mirror of the wielder. Old and scarred both were. Their history written there for any sharp-eyed opponent to see and fear. He spun the curved sword in his hand, letting the motion stir awake the muscles in his wiry arms. They turned the corner, just a few strides away from the Buffer only to find someone barring their path.

He stood directly on the border as if waiting for them. A sentinel in the dark. His sudden presence startled the Rangers to a halt. With eyes raised to the stars he spoke. "It's a fine night, isn't it, Ashur?"

Captain Ashur bristled and with a curt gesture his Lieutenant cracked a glow stick and tossed the thing forward. It rolled to a stop in-between them and the stranger. Its dim light illuminated the scene crimson, bringing out the ruddy tinge to the stranger's hair. The young man's face remained fixed on the sky above. His ragged attire matched that of someone from the Mud District, yet there was something familiar about it. The remains of a uniform, parts of which were singed black. The blue insignia imprinted on the jacket's shoulder marked him as a recruit. Ashur's gaze held on that insignia. He was not alone in his recognition. Other rangers behind him murmured in surprise. Their confusion bordered on fear. Fear in realizing that this stranger was no stranger at all.

The Lieutenant stepped forward, her crossbow lowered. "You…You're the Stroud kid, aren't you?" The young man at last wistfully pulled his attention away from the stars. His once pale skin had been tanned. A thin beard aged him some, but those perceptive eyes remained the same. He stood in the tattered uniform like a corpse that had just wandered out of its grave and yet the man underneath looked more filled with life than Ashur had seen in him before.

He smiled of all things, "Despite the circumstances…Its still really nice to see you all again."

Ashur cleared his throat. "Sanguine-"

"That's not my name anymore. Its Buckets now."

"Buckets?" Ashur repeated the name in disbelief.

"I know it sounds silly, but it's grown on me."

"What are you doing here?" asked Ashur, his throat dry.

"I actually came to ask you the same thing. Didn't think Rangers ever ventured into the city."

"We don't."

"Then why are you here?"

"Technically, we're not. Records still show we're outside the city. Business as usual."

"A shadow mission then?"

"That's what our employer wants." Said the Captain.

"Thought the Rangers reported directly to the government."

"Who do you think I was talking about?"

Buckets' smile waned, "Have things really gotten that corrupt since I've been gone?"

"You've been gone a long time." Said Ashur reluctantly, "But things have been like this for way longer. You would've learned that once you joined our ranks." A sad smile crept onto his face. "You were going to be the best of us Rangers. What happened? The human snot, Webb, said you simply disappeared over night."

"In a way, I kinda did. I live here now, Ashur. The Mud District is my home." His hand fell gently onto the grip of the baton at his hip. The hole punched metal tube caught the light. Nameless. Gods, to know the name of your opponent's weapon speaks volumes to their reputation.

"You're with them and yet you still wear your uniform?"

"With it came an oath to protect the people of Refuge. I still hold to that oath. Do you?"

Ashur couldn't meet the young man's eyes. He stood there a ghost painted red. A reminder of all that he once believed in. "You must understand. We have orders."

"You don't have to follow them." Pleaded Buckets, "Please. I know you, Ashur. You don't want this. You know this isn't right. What's being done here in this city."

"You think we'll rebel? Now?!" He shook his head, "You have no idea the fight your in."

"We can win."

Ashur scoffed, "With you on their side, maybe. But I know you just as you know me. You don't have the stomach for this. Your enemy is deeply rooted in every level of this city's infrastructure. To beat them you would have to tear it all down. How many will be crushed beneath the rubble, I wonder?"

The young man flinched as if struck. "There's another way. There is always another way."

"I wouldn't count on it." Mumbled Ashur. The words tasting like bile on his tongue.

"I won't ask any of you to disobey your orders. Just…delay them. Barter for time. Come up with an excuse. Anything."

"What would be the point? Eventually they'll come down here and force us to attack and there won't be any delaying them then. Right now, we're needed here to clean up what the City Guard can't handle. And if not us then they'll just send someone else."

"What if your needed elsewhere?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ashur.

Buckets examined the rangers behind him, "You're all here. The whole Ranger Division." An idea sparkled in his eyes. "Can you delay it? Just for a couple of days."

"To what end?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

"This is nuts."

"Can you do it, Ashur?"

The Ranger Captain sheathed his blade. "I can get you a few days."

"Thank you. All of you." Buckets turned to leave.

"Wait." Called out Ashur, "There's something you should know. Your father, he's been looking for you."

"He came in person?"

Ashur bit back his reply, knowing the answer would only wound him.

Buckets nodded to himself. "Thought so. If he calls on you again just tell him, I'm where I belong."

"Will he understand?"

He shrugged, "I suspect not." After one over the shoulder wave Buckets set off until he vanished from the small radius of the glow stick's light.

Behind Ashur his Rangers stirred. "Captain, what will we do when we run out of delays and are forced to move in?" The fear in the Lieutenant's voice infected the rest of the division and rightly so.

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Buckets leaned back against the bar with a bemused smile. This morning people had gathered here worried and scared. Now they sang and danced without a care in the world. Coll had cracked open the barrels and let the frothy ale flow. Buckets spotted his friend making his way from table to table refilling empty tankards with a pitcher. For the first time in years, night had come and Coll wasn't stone-faced drunk to greet it. That alone was enough to make Buckets happy.

The innkeeper plopped on the stool next to Buckets, "If these people don't leave soon they'll drink this place dry."

"Isn't that good for business?"

"Yeah, but then there'll be none left for me." Buckets laughed only to quickly realize Coll wasn't joking. The innkeeper refilled his pitcher from the barrel tap resting atop the bar. "I don't know when I'm gonna be able to restock. I'm not Old Gran, I can't grow this stuff out of the mud. And with things so strained right now I doubt I'll hear from my man in the Flower District."

Buckets stirred his tankard and watched the creamy liquid slosh around inside. "Don't worry about it. We'll figure something out. We always do."

"That's the thing. I can't not worry about it. I'm too fucking clear headed. How do you people stand being sober all the time? Its torture."

"It ain't that bad, surely."

Coll stifled a grunt, "Speak for yourself."

Seeing a patron wave him over, he set out, refilled pitcher in hand. When he was out of earshot Buckets muttered into his drink. "I always do." After taking a sip he spoke up, "Going to lurk there all night, Clementine?"

From behind the bar Clementine stood from a crouching position. "Caught me then?"

"Saw you sneak in through the backdoor. You're not as stealthy as you might think. Especially with that purple flair your wearing. If everyone wasn't drunk out of their minds they would've spotted you as well."

Clementine stared out across the inn. "What in the world happened here?"

Buckets grinned and motioned towards the dancing crowd in the inn's center. "She did."

They formed a circle, arms interlocked and moving in a spiral. Ale spilled out from the dancers' tankards splashing themselves and any who got close. Their legs kicked in the air and stomped on the floorboards in rhythm to whatever it was they were singing. The ale had long since slurred their words to gibberish, but the toon was catchy enough to keep them going. Interlocked in that circle and leading the merry band was none other than Kiera. Her eyes were as wide and as delightful as her smile. With one arm she held up one of the old Boyle brothers who looked more hammered than the rest combined. On her other side, dangled a kid who somehow got thrown into the mix. His legs kicked into the air and he laughed with every bounce.

"The ale calmed them." Said Buckets, "But she riled em back up only in a completely different mood. This morning these people were anxious and uncertain. They were too afraid to address the elephant in the room so they argued about everything else. Then she comes along, cracks open the casks and the whole room lightens up. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"You sound in love." Observed Clementine.

"And you sound distant. Kiera got your message. What happened out there? What did you and Runt find?"

"What makes you think we found anything?"

"Why else would you be skulking about?"

Clementine observed the joy in the room yet there was none of it in his eyes. "Best it wait till morning when everyone has sobered up. I'm still mulling it over myself."

Buckets nodded his understanding, "Where's Runt then?"

"My place. Sleeping. At least I hope so. He's exhausted. How are things at the Buffer? Any trouble?"

"Some. Earlier today Naz and his Mudslingers spotted several strange looking men at the border. None entered the Buffer, but they looked to be watching us. Gauging our strength. Trying to find a weakness in our defenses. I mixed up their patrol routes to prevent them from finding any patterns. But you should know, Naz armed his guards with the guns Sned had acquired."

"How? I thought they were hidden someplace safe."

"They were. I gave it to them."

"You what?" seethed Clementine, forcing his outburst to a hush.

"Those weren't typical City Guard at the border. They were Refuge's elite. The Ranger Division. Just the scouts by the look of them, but the rest were sure to follow. If they had decided to attack in full force, the Mudslingers would've needed all the help they could get."

"Have the Rangers made any moves since?"

"They tried. At the stroke of midnight they moved to invade, but I intercepted them. Managed to convince Captain Ashur to stand down, for the time being anyway."

"That was less than an hour ago." Clementine considered for a time, "Anyone else know about this?"

"None. Kiera did such an excellent job here…I didn't want to start them panicking all over again."

"Perhaps it's for the best then." Decided Clementine.

Buckets stroked his stubble in thought, "I bought us some time, but it won't last. Fighting the whole Ranger Division would be…unfavorable. We should avoid that at all costs. I've been thinking of ways to draw the Rangers away. To make them needed elsewhere. Yet, I can't think of anything Moss might value over the Buffer. Besides maybe an all-out attack on one of the hamlets in the glades, but that's out of the question."

"I might have some ideas." Suggested Clementine, "Tomorrow morning. Same place we met last time. Drag Kiera along if you can."

"She won't like that."

"She'll want to know what we have to say."

Something in his voice made Buckets uneasy, "She'll be there."

"Good." Clementine backed away, "Nice work today." He let the words slip out like an afterthought before disappearing the way he came.

It took another couple hours for the place to die down. Celebration was a scarce thing in the Mud District. There was hardly ever anything worth celebrating and when there were the resulting gatherings more closely resembled wakes. Yet tonight was a party. One that carried on into the nocturnal hours of the morning. By its end all who remained were Buckets, Coll, and a handful of drunken patrons.

Buckets found Kiera passed out under a table, an empty tankard held close to her chest. He nudged her, but she didn't move. Curious, he tried prying the tankard from her grip. She held on tight, her grip deadlocked.

She stirred, "Let go."

"It's empty, Kiera."

"Huh?" she held the tankard over her head, peering up at its bottom with one eye. That eye squinted then slowly closed. Kiera drifted to sleep in a matter of a few seconds. Her arm laxed and the tankard hit her face, jolting her awake once more. She looked around confused for a moment before finding Buckets still kneeling beside her. "Look what I found." Kiera reached into the folds of her baggy pockets and pulled out a pair of wooden dice. "Come on, do it for me, will you?"

"It's not a party trick."

"Bah," she tossed the dice into the tankard and clasped a hand over its top. Kiera shook the tankard back and forth before slamming it upside down onto the floor. "Go on, call it."

Buckets sighed, "Six and a three."

Kiera lifted the tankard revealing a two and a one. She squinted at the dice as if the whole world had ceased making sense. If he had not roused her again then perhaps she would've stayed that way all night. Hunched underneath a table glaring at two innocent die pieces as if they just murdered her dreams.

"Come on," said Buckets, "Let's get you to bed."

Kiera snapped to and gave a lecherous smirk, "All subtly out the window then? Since when did you become so brazen?"

"Since never. You're just drunk."

"You're drunk." She retorted. Buckets slung her limp arms over his shoulders and lifted her up by her thighs. Her hot breath tickled his neck as he made his way to the stairs. "Things turned out alright didn't they?"

"It was fun." Replied Buckets, "Thanks to you."

Kiera hiccupped, "I don't remember the last time I danced."

"Doubt you'll remember this time either." Making it to his room on the third floor, Buckets slid Kiera off onto the bed before sitting down himself. He rubbed at his tired eyes. So much on his mind pulled at him. The arrival of the Rangers threatened their security here and he suspected that whatever Clementine and Runt found would be even worse. For once in a long time, tomorrow wasn't something Buckets was looking forward to. He caught his reflection in Nameless' metal tube that leaned against his chest at the foot of his bed. Buckets remembered when he first gripped that baton. When he first wielded it with his family's eyes upon him. The power-

A hand reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt. With a yank, Kiera dragged him away from melancholic memories and down onto the bed with her.

"When this is over," she whispered, her words slurred. "We should leave this place. Just for a little while. There's people I want you to meet. They'd like you, I'm sure of it."

Buckets relaxed in her embrace, "Who?"

"My family…Back on that little farm of ours. My sister would've returned home by now. It's been so long. The sunrise used to paint the fields gold and when it rained, Sap would sit us by the fire and tell us stories." Her smile hid regret, "The three of us together could weather any storm."

Buckets imagined himself sitting there with them and he smiled. "You always were a happy drunk…Kiera?" Her snores blew warm air down his back. Family, huh? I wonder what you'd say, Father…Seeing your oldest with a faunus. Would you be happy for me? I know Mother would. And you, Bianca? Forgive me, but you were always a mystery to me. How about you, Nero? Still working hard to follow my footsteps? I hope you realize as I did, that following your own path is far better than walking one that's predetermined. Always think your own thoughts and act on them and one day you may be as fortunate as I am to meet someone to share that path with.

Hangovers are never fun. Especially when dragged out of bed in the winking hours of the morning and placed in the middle of another secret meeting. Kiera's head ached. Last night was a blur, her memory spotty. She remembered Blind Shan and how she petted her tail. Such touches brought back unwelcome memories for Kiera. Ones that made her wish she could forget all over again. She remembered drinking to do just that. The next thing she knew Buckets was shaking her awake. She had a vague memory of doing or saying something embarrassing. The fact that Buckets only smiled and deflected her questioning only provoked her worrying. The bastard knew and he wasn't going to reveal any juicy secrets that easily.

All the playfulness died in its crib when they arrived at the roofless ruin far out in the Mud District's outskirts. Runt and Clementine were already there. Both wore expressions as harrowing as Grimm. Clementine did all the talking while Runt idly fiddled with a chunk of wood. Using his chisels, Runt sculpted the chunk into a piece of art. Yet he didn't even seem aware of his hands. His eyes just stared past them, looking at nothing. The more Clementine explained the more Kiera's head thudded. Her skin itched as if she were uncomfortable wearing it. His words battered against her skull. She refused to let them in. Refused to believe. They were looking at her now. When did they stop talking?

"Kiera, you alright?" asked Runt.

She laughed, "You're joking right? This is all one big joke meant to scare us isn't it? Well har har, it isn't funny so cut the shit."

"I wish we were joking." Said Clementine, "But there's no denying what we saw."

The ground shifted beneath her feet. Was it actually or just a figment of her imagination? Either way the rocking motion left her nauseous. She stumbled to a nearby window and vomited out into the mud. Buckets was at her side holding back her hair as she gagged. His face had stiffened as they told their story until not a trace of his signature smile remained. Buckets without a smile wasn't Buckets at all. Just a stranger wearing his clothes.

"What do you suggest we do about this?" asked the Buckets imposter.

Kiera wiped her mouth across her arm, "How is that even a question? We attack, free them all."

"I'm with Kiera," agreed Runt, "They have the numbers, but that didn't stopped us taking on the City Guard and it won't stop us now. I know the way. We lead a small team as close as possible. Take control of the lifts. From there we work our way down, level by level until everyone is freed."

Clementine clawed at his hair. Clearly, he and Runt had been arguing about this all night. "What then? We'll have thousands of former slaves with no place to go and nothing to feed them with."

Runt launched to his feet, "We have the Mud District! There's plenty of room!"

"For good reason!" argued Clementine, "Did you forget just how unstable the ground beneath our feet even is? We're fine here because there's only four of us and that's still not without risks. You want hundreds of people walking about here? They'll be swallowed up by the mud before the day is over. And that's even if we could sneak them into the city. I doubt Moss will be too enthusiastic about an army of his former slaves taking up residence. He will try and stop us if not kill us outright."

"There are other places to go." Argued Runt, "Refuge isn't the only city in Mistral."

"Maybe, but the next one is weeks away. They won't survive a trip that long. A congregation of that size will be a beacon to Grimm all over."

Kiera moved from the window, her curly hair slipping through Buckets' hands. "There are villages."

"And how many would take in a party of that size? Who would be eager to give up all their food and shelter to help these strangers? Half of which, I'd like to mention are condemned criminals. So, there's that. Any village would be just as likely to drive them away than welcome them with a hug."

"He's right." Buckets spat out the words as if they were poison. "We can barely feed ourselves here and it's only going to get harder as the days go by. Let's face the fact that they are probably safest where they are now. At least they're fed."

Kiera slammed her fist down on the table, snapping one of the boards. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's the truth, Kiera. There's nothing we can do for them right now. The best chance they got is if we fix things here first."

Kiera glanced between Buckets and Clementine, "You cowards…"

"We don't like it any more than you do."

She couldn't believe it. Clementine, she could understand. When things got down to it, the boy was cold and distant. But Buckets…He knew her history. She trusted him enough to reveal it and yet he sides against her. A dagger in the back. She watched as he curled up around himself, arms crossed and head pointing down. His face hidden to her in shame of his betrayal. Kiera wanted to hit him. Knock him to the ground. Force him to face her. But she knew that if their eyes met then she'd be forced to recognize the truth of what he was saying. From there either all the fight would die out of her or she'd rage in the face of that terrible truth and likely lash out.

Runt dropped his sculpture and tools as if he just realized what they were doing. He stared at his open palms before clenching them tight. "I won't sit idly by twiddling my thumbs."

"I never said we'd do nothing!" Clementine's icy tone gripped them all. "If we're going to do this," he continued, "we do it right. Together. And we won't just bring down the Quarry. We'll bring it all down. Right on top of their heads. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say and then decide. I won't oppose anything you three agree on, but allow me the chance to convince you there's a better way."