I've woken up in some weird places.

At the entrance to an abandoned resort preserved by time, in a high tech facility after having some of my vital organs removed, and that one time on top of the Lucky 38 after I had climbed up there while drunk and passed out (don't ask), to name a few.

The dark cell I found myself chained to the wall in was pretty high up on that list though. Not because jail cells are inherently weird, but more along the lines that I wasn't expecting it. I mean, honestly, I thought I'd still be laying down in the street when I came to. Worse, I wouldn't have woken up at all.

'Yo, brain, you alright?' I asked after sitting in silence for a while.

He sighed and I suddenly sensed myself at the mercy of thorough chewing out. "Yes, no thanks to you! Do you know how many times we've almost died in your attempts at playing hero? I've lost count! In fact, rememb-"

As he continued on his tirade, I just tuned him out and glanced around the room once again. Like every other time I had checked it, it remained the same. The small amount of light that let me see filtered in through the cracks around the door across from me. If I had to take a guess, it was made of reinforced steel and probably too thick to brute force my way through.

The same thing could be said for the chains that kept me confined. Like the door, they were made of steel and looked almost brand new. A quick rattle showed they were firmly attached to the wall by a large number of steel bolts. Whoever chained me up here was determined on making sure I didn't break free.

A cold breeze suddenly blew through the chamber and I shivered at the chill. If I was wearing anything more than a tight pair of boxers that left little to the imagination, then it wouldn't have been a problem, however, I was no longer wearing any armor or clothes save for said boxers. Not only was I cold, but my paranoia was kicking into overdrive at showing unprotected skin.

"-thought that was the end of it, but no! You get us thrown into some portal and transported to who knows where?! And, not only that, but you feel the need to throw yourself into the middle of a war to save one woman and a couple of cops! We're just lucky you managed to take out the mech and not get killed in the process!"

'...You done?'

"Yeah," he said, taking what sounded like a deep breath. "Sorry about that, I just needed to get it off my chest." After a brief pause, he snorted. "Oh, you know what I mean! It's a figure of speech."

'Don't worry about it,' I thought with a chuckle, examining the lock that held the shackles together closely. It was far from the most complicated I had ever picked, but without any bobby pins it was a dead end. If the Buffout was still running through my system, I probably could have torn my restraints right off the wall, but the drug must have worn out a while ago because I wasn't feeling the benefits anymore. In addition to that, my senses felt dulled and even my mind felt sluggish. Although I couldn't check my Pip-Boy, I knew it was Jet withdrawal. A long history with the drug made me very familiar with its side effects.

"Have you come up with any escape strategies yet?" My brain asked, now recovered from his angry shouting.

Grunting, I tried to reach my other hand over to the Pip-Boy. 'I'm working on it.' After a couple failed attempts, I gave up. Even if I dislocated my arm, there was no way I could reach it, something I was secretly glad of. The last time I had used that method, I had to fight my way through a Legion camp with only one arm. Not a fun experience by any means.

"Why don't you just alert our captors we're awake? We could maybe get some information, and, with a tongue like yours, maybe even a way out."

Quickly, I ran his idea through my head. It could work, after all, I had talked my way out of some ridiculous situations before. Only problem was that they might just kill me on sight. However, I seriously doubted that would happen because they would've wasted time and resources to keep me in here.

'Alright, that sounds like the best thing we could do right now.' Nodding to myself, I cleared my throat. 'Any suggestions on what song I should sing?'

"You're singing?" he asked in surprise. Before I answered though, I heard him chuckle. "That's not a bad idea. Beats just straight up screaming for someone." He was quiet for a second, probably running through the songs I could sing, but spoke up not too long after. "Do one of the hymns Daniel taught you. I can't really think of a better chance to use one."

"You got it." I whispered, before clearing my throat once again.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home."

I started out slow, making sure my voice wasn't too raspy from lack of use. Satisfied that I sounded fine, my voice steadily grew in volume.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home. I looked over Jordan, what do I see? Coming for to carry me home,"

The sudden sound of footsteps drew my attention back to the door. After a brief second of what sounded like someone fumbling with a latch before a slit at the top slid open, allowing more light to spill in. Illuminated against the slit, was a pair of eyes that quickly flicked around the room. As soon as they locked with my own, I gave them as much of a friendly wave as I could shackled to the wall.

"Hey, I was wondering if whoever locked me in here would be-"

Whoever was at the door slammed the slit abruptly shut, engulfing the room in near darkness once again and footsteps took off back down the hallway. Rolling my eyes at the rudeness, I relaxed back against the wall with a sigh. Now that they knew I was awake, there wasn't much more I could do but wait.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long.

After around five to ten minutes of hanging in wait, the cadence of footfalls returned, this time louder and more numerous. The latch was fumbled with once again, but instead of the slit at the top flying open, the entire door swung open. I flinched as the flood of artificial light blinded me for a brief second once it spread rapidly into the room. My eyes worked well in low-light situations, but took extreme changes in brightness more severely than any normal set.

Blinking away the spots that danced across my vision, I examined the newcomers that had just entered. There were four in total, but two were dressed in simple armor, helmets in the visage of snarling dogs, and held rather simple rifles. I ignored them for the time being, instead focusing my attention on the other two.

One was dressed purple military fatigues and towered over his companions with his thickly built frame and muscular legs. A pair of metal boots the same color as his clothing covered his feet. His left hand was in a constant state of twirling the thin, blonde mustache that graced his upper lip. His other hand held a bag of ice over his right eye, and when he lowered it for a second, I could see the purple skin underneath. I almost, key word almost, laughed at how ridiculous he looked before my eyes locked with his own and I saw the respect and hatred that burned in them. If I was breaking out of here, he was not someone I wanted to fight.

The other man was the shortest of group, but without a doubt carried the most authority. An expensive red suit was stretched around his stockier frame, revealing a large gut and lack of muscle. I blinked in surprise when I realized that he was the first person I had ever seen who was overweight. Food was too scarce or irradiated in the Mojave to eat enough to gain weight. Even me, one of the wealthiest there, didn't eat enough to put any meat on my bones. Along with his pudgy body, his face had greasy hair and beady eyes to match. The most unnerving thing, was the greed that shone through his gaze. He eagerly examined me up and down like a prime cut of meat and a grin slowly began to spread across his face.

"You have a beautiful voice," he said, eyeing me greedily. "It's a shame I couldn't sell you off though. With your looks, you'd sell quickly, and for a nice price to boot. What's your name?"

I gave a short chuckle before staring him dead in the eyes. "Six, and you can go to hell." Any time I was captured, I always did my best to maintain a confident facade. Nothing was worse than letting your captor know you felt intimidated. I knew that from experience.

He blinked in surprise for a moment, his face becoming blank. After a moment, his grin returned twofold and he launched into a fit of raucous laughter.

"Oh, you'll be perfect for the Maze," he said, snapping his fingers to one of the guards. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, the man pulled out a steel rod with a flat end on one side and handed it to him. With practiced ease, he flicked a switch on the side, causing the flat end to crackle and turn white with heat. Across the tip, I could see the same mark that had been painted on the giant robot I destroyed. Putting two and two together, I swore under my breath. "Now, just hold still, this will only sting for a moment."

'He's going to fucking brand me!? No way in hell!'

Flicking my eyes between the brand and his glinting eyes, I let out another chuckle, putting as much venom into my voice as I could. "If you so much as touch me with that, I will not hesitate to tear you limb from limb."

A grin spread across my face as his eyes narrowed in anger. "What did you say to me?" Behind him, the man in purple took a threatening step forward. "Do you know who I am?"

"No clue," I growled. "But from what your organization was doing yesterday, I have a pretty good idea at who you are."

It was his turn to smile. "Oh, I don't think you do, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten involved with my gang. My name is Rowan Minose, notorious gangster and the most feared crime lord in all of Remnant!"

"At least, until Torchwick came along…" the man with the mustache snorted, pressing the ice back against his eye.

Minose's eye twitched as he turned on the taller man. "I thought you weren't going to mention that, Phyrius! That cigar-chewing, bowler-wearing, self-centered asshole doesn't have anything on my empire! Besides," he said, turning his scowl into a rather cocky grin. "I thought you were supposed to be Remnant's strongest enforcer, so how did you get that black eye again?"

Phyrius's sharp features suddenly darkened and his hand holding the ice squeezed it so tight that I could hear it crack. "It's not my fault that that old crow showed up! He caught me off guard and because of that, we barely managed to escape with another group of Faunus. You should be thanking me for getting as many prisoners as I could, including this one, not berating me for events outside my control!"

I choked, something that sounded like the unholy mix between a laugh and a cough. He had been beaten by a bird? As if he sensed my mirth, his eyes flicked towards me and I quickly regained my composure, rearranging my face into what I hoped was mixture of disinterest and slight agitation.

"Fine," Minose relented, pushing the brand back towards me again. Very slowly, I inched away from the steel stick it got dangerously close to my exposed skin. "I will admit that this boy is probably the best contender we've had in awhile, hell, he might even give Asterion a slightly more difficult challenge. He's been complaining to me about how easy his last couple opponents have been."

A frown broke out across my face and I narrowed my eyes. This conversation was not going in a direction I liked. "I don't have a clue what game you're talking about, but, whatever it is, I want no part in it."

The mobster turned back to face me. "You don't have a choice. Attacking my empire was a dire mistake, and now you'll pay for it by being the main event in my next showing. Now, hold still."

I flinched away from the brand and tugged at the shackles holding me to the wall as he pushed it towards my left shoulder. Right as the hot steel touched my skin, I grit my teeth in agony as the flesh burned under the scorching steel. Adrenaline began pumping through my system and I let out a roar, tearing my right arm free from the wall in a shower of stone and slamming it down onto Minose's head.

With a surprised yelp, the man stumbled backwards as the same invisible force stopped my manacled hand from cracking his skull like an egg. Phyrius's eyes widened before he stepped forward and slammed his free hand into my face. The cartilage in my nose snapped, sending a river of blood flowing down my face. At this point though, I was too angry to care. Cocking back my fist for another blow, I prepared to slam it into his jaw.

Only I was stopped short when a sharp pain shot up my thigh. Glancing down, I noticed one of the other guards had stabbed a needle into my leg. All of a sudden my limbs felt heavy and the pain in my shoulder dulled to a throb, threatening my eyelids with the immediate prospect of shutting.

'Come… on…' I thought drowsily, as whatever drug began cycling through my veins, gradually overtaking my body with weariness. 'T-third… time… I've… fallen… unconscious…' The last thing I remembered was Minose shooting me a devilish sneer as Phyrius's fist slammed into my face.

"Wake up!"

I snapped awake instantly at the rough voice, snarling furiously and tugging on the chains that bound me. The pain of the brand was still fresh in both my mind and skin, causing an awful amount of heat-related nightmares to resurface. So, upon waking up, my body went crazy in self-defense, attempting to lash out at the first thing to come near me, but, seeing as I was still shackled to the wall, I just strained against the shackles.

"Woah! Easy there kiddo, I'm not gonna hurt you!"

"P-prove it!" I growled, blinking the spots out of my eyes and silently thanking the adrenaline that snapped my mind to attention. I had yet to see whoever had awoken we, but I knew better than to trust the first words I heard out of someone's mouth. Slowly, my vision cleared and the figure came into view, standing face-to-face at eye level with me. He wore the same gear as the two other guards I saw earlier and had a rifle slung across his back, so I'll be the first to admit I freaked out a little bit and hit him with the only limb I had available.

My head.

The blow caught him off guard, forcing him to stumble backwards onto his back and exposing what was in one of his hands. It was a set of handcuffs and they looked brand new, shining any time they crossed across the beam of light leaking through the open doorway. My scowl deepened. If he thought he was getting anywhere near me with those, he was sorely mistaken. Elijah had paid for putting a collar on me dearly and if he attempted to do anything, I'd do something worse than shoving him in vault for the rest of his life.

"Damn!" he swore again, slowly clambering to his feet and rubbing the front of his helmet. It pleased me greatly to see that I had managed to crack the nose of the dog right down the middle. "You've got a surprisingly rude way of greeting people."

"If your boss wants anything from me, tell him to come talk to me himself." I growled, watching as he reached up and pulled the helmet off of his head, revealing a shock of unkempt black hair. Short stubble ran its way down his jaw and a pair of dull, red eyes stared at me in a mixture of agitation and intrigue. Sadly, I could see no signs of visible damage from my headbutt earlier. "I've got a couple of choice words for him."

The man chuckled under his breath. "Don't worry," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. "I don't work for that racist idiot. No, I've come here to help you get out. I already said I'm not going to hurt you, didn't I?"

All I did was snort and shake my head. What did he take me for, an idiot? "And I'm supposed to believe you?"

"You don't have to," He produced a flask from inside his uniform and uncapped it, filling my nostrils with the harsh scent of alcohol. In spite of my paranoia, I couldn't help but stare at the canister enviously. Without the copious amounts of Jet that usually was flowing my veins, I needed something else to replace it. It might not completely get rid of the withdrawal, but a stiff drink was exactly what I needed right now. "But I'm your best bet at getting out of here right now, so either you can not be a pain in my ass and come willingly or I will beat you unconscious, handcuff you, and drag you out of here myself. It's your pick."

As he downed a swig from the flask, my resolve fell apart like a wet piece of paper, much to my brain's dismay. "Let me cut you a deal. If I get a sip of your drink, I'll go with you."

For a brief moment, he glanced between his drink and me before screwing the cap back on and began placing it under his clothes. "No can do," he said, shaking his head with a cocky grin. "I'm not legally allowed to supply minors with alcohol, much less stuff this potent."

"Wait!" I hissed, stopping the motion of his hand. I hated to beg, but his whiskey was the only thing I needed right now. "Don't put it away yet! Here, let me cut you a better one. If you give me a sip of yours now, I've got a couple of bottles with your name on it. And, I promise you it's the good stuff, not that cheap shit that's all over." I couldn't help but grin as I saw him hesitate. "I swear I'm not pulling your leg. Besides, I'm not in any position to lie, am I?"

Another couple seconds passed before he grumbled in annoyance. "Fine, just let me get you down first." As he tucked the flask back into his waistband, I heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "Tie's gonna have my hide if he finds out about this." Before I could dwell on it too much, however, he produced a grey sword from his back and sliced through each of the shackles binding my arms and legs easily.

As soon as the last manacle was severed, I fell the short distance from the wall to the floor. In a situation all to similar to yesterday, my legs gave out from underneath me, sending me toppling to the floor. A pair of strong arms wrapped around my own and hefted me upward, saving me from taking a nosedive right into the concrete.

"Damn, you're heavy." the stranger muttered before taking stock of my appearance. "You okay there, kid?" he asked, standing me back onto my two feet. At this close of a distance, the smell of alcohol was overpowering, mostly emanating from the man himself. It surprised me that I hadn't noticed it earlier, especially with my enhanced sense of smell. More than that though, I was beginning to regret letting this man help me.

'Great, I got saved by an alcoholic.'

My brain scoffed. "If he's an alcoholic, then what does that make you?"

I chose not to answer.

"Yeah, I'm good," I mumbled, breaking out of my thoughts and taking a step away from him to test my legs. They had fallen asleep and the constant tingling wasn't making standing very easy. "Do you know how long I've been in here?"

He tapped his flask to his chin in thought. "About two days, give or take. The booze makes it hard to tell sometimes."

'Jesus Christ,' I thought, taking another step that quickly devolved into a stumble towards one of the walls. The man watched with raised eyebrows as if asking if I needed help, but I waved him off. 'Traveling through the busted Transportalponder wormhole must've been more taxing than I thought if I passed out for that long. No wonder I feel like shit.'

Steadying myself carefully, I tried walking once again, this time to much better results. I managed to cross the entire span of the room before collapsing against the other wall. A couple more minutes and I was confident I'd be able to walk farther without too much trouble.

With my legs now feeling more like actual body parts and less like lead, I stepped away from the wall and ran a hand through my hair. Instead of meeting the usually shaggy length I kept it to, however, I found it quite a bit shorter than usual. They must've cut it while I was passed out and I just hadn't noticed yet.

As I swept it across to the left, I noticed my savior's eyes widen as he examined me. "Holy shit... Where'd you get those two scars?" He asked, gesturing to my forehead. Before I could answer, he switched his gaze to my body. "Nevermind that, your whole body looks like its been run through the wringer a couple times too many. Either you are very experienced or have no idea how to dodge. Whichever it is, I bet they're some good stories to go with those scars. Especially from those." He said, pointing at my forehead

I snorted, glancing down at my exposed torso and running a finger down the largest scar, one that stretched from my right shoulder down to my left hip. My entire body was covered with old wounds like that one that ranged from near-lethal to minor cuts. "Hardly. Most of them came from dumb mistakes on my part." Stretching both my arms, I brought the Pip-Boy back over to put on some clothes only to find that the entire screen had gone dark.

'Oh no…'

My chest tightened as I frantically began flipping the switches. The PDA was my lifeline, and without it, I was screwed. Not only did it have my weapons and medicine, but it held my most treasured possessions. The sheer thought of losing them made my blood run cold and my skin crawl.

"Something wrong?"

Turning back to the man, I examined the Pip-Boy another time. "Yes, actually." On the back side, I found a small black strip wired into the back of it. My mouth twisted into a scowl as my hands followed the copper cables into the back of the device. "They messed with my Pip-Boy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your what-Boy?"

"Pip-Boy," I corrected, gingerly removing the casing from the back in order to assess how deep they had ingrained their device. Swearing at the jumbled mess of intrusive wires inside, I let out a sigh and glanced back towards him quizzically. "Have you never heard of one of these before?" My heart sunk as he shook his head. "RobCo? Vault-Tec?" Another shake. I quickly attempted to stamp out the rising sense of dread, but it quickly overtook my rational thought.

"Calm down!" my brain chided. "Although that's worrying, it's nothing too outrageous yet. Both of those names were purely American companies. Keep a level head, you can't afford to freak out now."

He was right. RobCo and Vault-Tec were known to everyone in any part of ruined America. The skeletons of their facilities and pieces of old technology were unavoidable. From old Vaults to robots to weaponry to technology, every person at least knew at least both of their names. Combining that with the fact that Ches hadn't known what Earth was made for some very foreboding signs.

"What does it do?"

"Hmm?"

"Your Pip-Boy," he said, pointing to it. "I assume it isn't just for show, because it doesn't look comfortable at all."

"Yeah," I said, replacing the casing and scratching the back of my neck. "It's like wearing a giant brick of steel. As for what it does, it's a portable armory, GPS, and radio all rolled into one. With some tools and a workbench, I could fix it and bust out enough firepower to turn this damned facility to dust. Only problem is I don't have any of those, so I'm weaponless."

If it had impressed him, he showed no sign of it. "Really? Luckily, I brought my own, so you can have this one." Reaching back, he slid the rifle off his back and tossed it to me. Catching it with both hands, I examined it closely. It was sleek and new, nothing like any rifle I'd find lying around in the Mojave. The same logo that now graced my shoulder was stamped onto the body, which looked uncannily similar to an assault carbine. "Don't have a spare set of clothes though, so you'll have to stick with the briefs."

I chuckled and answered with a shrug. "Trust me, I've done a whole lot more with a whole lot less."

Cracking a grin, he made his way back to the door, keeping his sword at the ready. I followed quickly, covering the small ground of the cell in two long strides. Once I got near him, he pulled his flask from and waved it in front of my face. "You sure your stuff is good? My karma's gonna take a dive giving you this."

"Promise," I said, taking the bottle and uncapping it. The strong smell of alcohol permeated the air once again and I smiled in spite of myself. Downing a mouthful, I wiped my face with the back of my arm and handed him back his flask before sticking out my hand amiably. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name's Six."

He grasped it tightly and gave it a firm shake. "Crow."

If his drink had still been in my mouth, it would have sprayed out a that. Coughing to myself, I gave him a questioning look. "Crow? As in the bird?"

"Crow" scowled and rolled his eyes, sending me a glare that would've made a lesser man soil his clothes. "You, of all people, are in no position to be making fun of names, Mister I'm-named-after-a-number. And it's Qrow, Q-r-o-w, nothing like the bird."

"My bad," I said, holding my hands up in defense, but making sure to keep the gun aimed away from him. I wasn't usually accident-prone, but luck always managed to find a way screw things up. "I just wasn't expecting it." A sudden thought occurred to me and I raised a finger. "So you were the one who gave that purple man with the thin mustache his black eye? He was complaining about an old crow, but I figured he was talking about an actual bird. This makes so much more sense if it's true."

"You mean Phyrius?" he asked, sticking his head out the doorway and quickly glancing left and right. "Yeah, I was in the area when the gang war started up, so I dropped by to lend a helping hand." Qrow motioned me forward as he stepped out of the room. "Damn man is fast on his feet, but I managed to get a couple hits in before he turned tail and ran. Think it had something to do with you blowing up that stolen Paladin. Quite nicely too, I might add."

I followed after him to find that my room opened into a long hallway dimly lit with buzzing fluorescent lights. "Wait, you saw that?"

When he nodded, my brain started throwing up red flags. "Stop! Don't follow him! If he knows who you are, then he obviously wants something. Nobody would ever help someone escape from what is basically a prison for free, you should know!"

"I know," I muttered, making sure to keep a careful eye on both him and the opposite direction he was heading. Nobody was at the opposite end of the corridor, so I followed him along to the left. "But he's my best bet at getting out of here. There's no way I could have gotten out by myself."

"As much as I agree with that statement," he retorted. "You need to be more careful than usual. This whole situation has been absolutely devastating to what we know. A society that seems to have missed the message about the nukes that devastated Earth? Nothing about this bodes well."

Grimly, I agreed. Ever since touching down, there had been a constant sense of dread in the back of my mind. Something about where I was felt… different, like it was missing something. There wasn't time to dwell on it now, however, seeing as escape was what I needed to focus on.

"Keep close," Qrow said, continuing down the hallway with his sword at the ready. "We've gotta get out of here quickly. Minose was really talking you up to his clients, so he's gonna be pissed once he realizes I broke you out. We shouldn't have too much to worry about though, seeing as I disabled the security system befor-"

The sudden screeching of sirens stopped his sentence short, echoing through the near silent corridor with steady, piercing wails. A long sigh escaped his lips as I let out a chuckle. "You were saying?"

"Shut your mouth," he growled, picking up his pace. I quickly filed in behind him, making sure to keep my rifle at the ready. "I don't know how they managed to find the little bug I left them, but we've gotta move. The garage is this way, so hurry up."

As he continued on, I stopped dead in my tracks, lowering my gun. A sudden feeling of forgetfulness had washed over me, sending my mind into overdrive. Briefly, I began running a mental checklist through my head. Even though I was just a scrap of clothing away from being naked, I still had everything in the Pip-B-. '...son of a bitch.'

I smacked my forehead and switched my gaze back to Qrow, who had stopped and stared at me impatiently. "Where would they be keeping my stuff?"

"What?"

"My stuff!" I said, waving my arm in desperation. "The armor and guns I had before they captured me! Where would it be?!"

He gave me another blank look. "We're trying to escape the facility that imprisoned you and now knows that I broke you out, and you want to go back for your stuff?"

"I'm going back for it whether you want to help me or not. There's no way I can leave any of it behind."

A sigh of frustration clambered its way out of his throat and he held up the handcuffs. "Listen, kid, my job was to grab you and get out, and that was it! If you're not willing to cooperate with that one, simple request, then I'm going to have to drag you out of here myself!"

My temper flared and I leveled the rifle at his chest. "You know what?" I said, keeping my eyes trained on his sword as the blade slowly wavered at his hip. "You've actually brought up a question that I've been meaning to ask you. Why exactly are you helping me? I doubt it was out of the kindness of your heart."

He growled, tightening his grip on his weapon and began raising it up, but before he could even move, I squeezed the trigger and sent a round whizzing past his ear. "Answer the damn question!" To my surprise, he hadn't even flinched, only stood there like a statue. I didn't let it unnerve me though, and made sure to take a step backward. At a close range with a sword like that, it was pretty clear-cut on who would win a confrontation.

After another moment of silence, save for the screaming of the alarms, he lowered his sword and shot a venomous glare my way. "An old friend of mine heard about what you did from the people you saved and wanted to meet you, so he sent me to find out where you went. It took me longer than I liked, but I managed to track you down here eventually. There are other things that happened, but we don't have time to go into it."

Once he was finished, I began cycling the information through my mind. It was never good when somebody I didn't know wanted to meet me. Never. Any meeting like that always eventually ended in disaster. House was dead in his longevity machine, Caesar had a rather large hole in the middle of his forehead, and Crocker had been scared shitless all the way back to Shady Sands. Granted, it always went badly for the person who wanted to meet me and never myself, but I still wasn't keen on taking chances.

"Wow, all that trouble for little old me? I'd say I'm flattered, but that'd put Ulysses to shame." Rolling my shoulders, I took another step backward and jerked my thumb down the hallway, still keeping the rifle trained on him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to find my stuff and get the hell out of here. It's been a pleasure, but I don't like what I'd be roped into, so goodbye."

His eyes flashed dangerously and I instantly tightened my hands around the rifle. Maybe antagonizing the man who had saved me wasn't a good idea, but I was beyond caring at this point. Ever since the Transportalponder busted, I had been on a downward spiral of one bad event into another.

What he did next surprised me.

"Fine," he grunted, lowering the sword. His face settled into an expression of indifference rather than irritation and he gestured his free hand towards one of the many doors that lined the hallway. "I won't stop you. It's more of a headache than it's worth."

I raised an eyebrow. His now laid-back expression worried me even more than his frustrated one. Nonchalance was always more frightening than other emotions because of how unpredictable it could be. It did a better hiding someone's true intentions than any other emotion.

"Just like that?" I asked, taking yet another step backwards. Any amount of distance I put between him and his blade was potentially life-saving. "After all the fuss of rescuing me you're just going to let me go?"

"Yeah, the person who wants to meet you specifically said to keep you alive, and you've got that cornered animal look in your eye that I no part of."

Now I knew something was off. I had become quite good at reading people, in fact, it was one of the reasons I had survived as long as I did. You didn't last very long if you couldn't tell whether someone wanted to put a knife in your throat and take every last thing you had or honestly wanted to make your acquaintance. Not only did that ability consistently help me get out of tight spots before they even arose, it managed to get me banned from every single casino because nobody wanted to play games with someone who could guess their hand even before they looked at it.

"Alright," I said, lowering the gun slowly. I made sure to keep it within easy range of his face. "So, do you know which way the armory is? I figure that would be where they'd be keeping my stuff."

"Sure thing." He pointed at a door a couple feet down the hallway. "It's through there and the first door on your right. You can't miss it." From his belt he pulled a blue card and tossed it to me. "That should get you to it."

Nodding in thanks, I caught it deftly in my free hand and strode over to the mentioned doorway. It looked identical to all the others, made completely of reinforced steel. There was no handle, only a small box with glowing lights and a slit down the middle on the left side. Making the connection, I slid the card through the slot, causing the display to light up green. With a hiss, the slab of steel slid upward to reveal another long corridor.

And a squadron of armed guards all turned in my direction.

"Hey, stop!"

Before they even stepped towards the door or raised their rifles, I swiped the card back down the box forcing the door closed again. A second later, a wave of bullets slammed into the metal near the bottom. Based on where their shots were placed, I'd say they weren't aiming to kill.

"There a problem?"

I glanced back towards Qrow, noting his bemused expression. "Problem? There's no problem. Just found out where all the guards were."

"Ah," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "So at least my bug did something. Scrambled the security system enough to slow them down."

Another round of bullets slammed into the door and I started to form a plan. From my quick glance at them, I had counted around ten or eleven, give or take a couple. The red light that was washed over the hallway made it hard to pick out details, even with my low-light vision.

"You could always ask Qrow for help," my brain offered. "He looks like he knows how to use that sword of his and, right now, we could use the extra hands."

Taking another look at my companion, I silently relented. He was right, after all, the man held himself with the practiced ease of an experienced swordsman. His posture resembled that of extreme indifference, almost to the point of boredom, but I could see the readiness that hid just below the surface.

"Hey, Qrow?" I asked. "You're pretty handy with that sword, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

I brought the rifle up to my shoulder and aimed it at the shut door. "I'd really like to get my stuff and I'd appreciate your help in getting it back. Without it, taking them on would result in more bullet wounds than I'd care to take." More bullets slammed into the door. "So, can you help me out?"

He crossed his arms. "Sure, you just gotta come with me."

'Whelp, I should've seen that coming.'

As if he could read my thoughts, he scoffed. "Don't be like that, he's not a bad man, just wants to talk is all. In fact, he runs a school that my niece is going to, I'd trust him with my life." Muffled voices floated out from behind the door and Qrow quickly flicked his eyes from it and back to me. "Make it snappy though, they don't seem like the most patient type."

Blowing a heavy sigh out from between my teeth, I focused my attention on the door. There was no time to argue now and I could deal with it later. His help was essential because without my Pip-Boy or riot gear, I could only do so much. "Fine, but at the first sign of some ulterior motive, I'm gone."

"Fair enough," he said before pressing a button on the side of his sword. With a whir, the cogs that sat just above hilt spun and turned, splitting the blade into multiple segments that curved downward into a hook. In addition to that, his hilt extended into a long red and black pole that repositioned itself perpendicular to the blade. With one hand, he slung the sword-turned-scythe over his shoulder and faced the door.

'Holy shit,' I gawked. The weapon was massive and the mechanism that enabled its transformation must have been extremely complex, something I had never seen before. That itself was surprising, considering I spent extensive amounts of time studying all the latest tech at Big Mountain. In fact, I wasn't even sure something that intricate could exist in the Mojave since all the small pieces would have to be produced by hand and there was nowhere I had ever seen that had the capabilities of creating anything close to it.

The sound of shearing metal tore me from my thoughts and I glanced up at Qrow once again. In a single swing, he had cut the door in half like a piece of wet paper, leaving the two halves to clatter loudly to the floor. Not wasting a second, he barreled through his new opening into the group of guards that stood blinking in surprise on the other side. The first man went down like a rickety card castle, a result of being slammed in the side of the head by the flat edge of Qrow's massive scythe. The second didn't last much longer, as his feeble attempt to shoot the blur of motion only resulted in his legs being swept from underneath him before a shotgun blast from the end of the blade launched him into the nearest wall.

'That's officially one of the coolest things I've ever seen,' I thought, bringing the gun back up to my shoulder and quickly following after him. One of the grunts had managed to escape the fifteen foot radius of death that perpetually surrounded Qrow and prepared to shoot him from a safe range. I beat him to the punch, squeezing the trigger and sending a spray of lead his way. At least, I assumed it was lead until the bullets smashed into him in a spray of electricity. Arcs of the stuff ran up and down his body, forcing him into an impromptu seizure, incapacitated.

I didn't dwell too long on my ammunition however, quickly switching targets to the next man who tried to get out of Qrow's melee range. He fell as quickly as the last. The only problem with taking out two of them was that a couple more seemed to finally remember that I existed and decided that it was a better choice to fight the near-naked kid with an assault rifle than the caped man who swung a two-handed death sickle around with the ease of a baseball bat.

The first man to come forward raised his gun to fire, but I beat him to the punch, sending enough of my electrically-charged ammunition into his skull to knock him out cold. I quickly switched my sights to my next opponent, but upon squeezing the trigger once again, the bolt jammed.

"Fuck!" I swore as the other man took advantage of my gun trouble and fired his own volley. I ducked to my left to avoid his gunfire, but his first shot nailed me in the right shoulder, sending electricity arcing all across my body. Biting my lip hard to push through the pain, I swiftly changed course, sprinting towards the grunt and ignoring the numbness that was spreading through my arm. Like hell I was going to let him get a free shot on me without making him pay for it.

As I approached, he tried to shoot me once again, but to my confusion his own gun jammed. My luck never affected other people, only myself. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth though, I continued forward, letting a grin make its way onto my face as the man fumbled with his own gun. I switched the rifle to my left hand before flipping it so the barrel rested between my gloved fingers and gripped it tightly.

Once I got within melee range, I stabbed the gun forward stock-first, slamming it right into the center of his mask and knocking his own rifle from his hands. He stumbled backwards in surprise before reaching one of his now free hands down to his hip. A half second later, he brought up a small handgun and centered the barrel right on my head.

Thankfully, my arm had regained some of its feeling, so I slammed my fist home into his throat, mentally cursing as the protective barrier that seemed to surround everyone dulled the impact. It was starting to get really annoying.

Although my hit had lost some of its punch, it still retained its initial velocity, forcing him to stumble backwards and raise both of his hands to his throat out of instinct. Continuing my assault, I whipped my leg around into his stomach, smashing through his forcefield before driving the gun into the side of his temple. He dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks.

"I find it equally sad and impressive how your mind can make up puns while in a life or death situation."

I frowned, rolling my right shoulder to return any feeling still missing and glancing back to Qrow to see if he needed any assistance. Judging from the cries of pain and the wild grin on his face, he didn't. 'How can you critique me on that when it's technically your mind too?'

"I refuse to take credit for any of the ridiculous things that spout forth from your mouth," my brain said as I dropped my jammed gun to the ground in favor of my downed opponents handgun, making sure to grab an extra magazine. "In fact, I'm quite certain that I only control rational thought and you somehow get domain over anything else."

"That would explain why you always complain about my decisions," I muttered, sliding the magazine free and quickly counting the bullets. It held twelve shots of yellow tinted bullets, more than enough for two or three people, if I placed them well.

One final grunt echoed through the hallway and I glanced back over to Qrow. The man stood with the groaning, unconscious forms of about a dozen grunts around him, all sprawled in various positions throughout the hallway. One had even been slammed into the ceiling, a comically, human-shaped dent marring the otherwise smooth metal sheets.

"You're pretty good with a gun," Qrow noted, switching his scythe back into its sword and striding up to me. There wasn't a tear to be seen on his clothes, other then the already-ratty, red cape that fell down around his back. "Did the boys at Atlas teach you how to shoot like that?"

"Atlas?"

His look turned from one of mild intrigue to concern shockingly fast. "Yes, Atlas. Military capital of Remnant. Only place they train you to shoot like a soldier. You do know what I'm talking about, right?"

"No clue," I said, furrowing my brow. "What is i-?"

"Well, well, well, look who it is!"

A familiar voice echoed down from the opposite end of the hallway, cutting off my next question. Both of us turned in its direction and I scowled as Phyrius walked into the hall, twirling his mustache like an evil supervillain with one hand while the other was held behind his back. He was flanked by two additional guards on either side, each holding a similar rifle in their hands.

"I have to admit," Phyrius said with a chuckle, continuing forward slowly with a hungry look in its eye, like a Nightstalker who had singled out an injured Bighorner. My grip tightened on my pilfered handgun and I brought it back up to aim at his smug grin. "You got farther than I expected, though I suppose it helps to have a Huntsman aiding you, right?"

Qrow snorted beside me and took his flask from his side for another drink. "How's that eye treating you Phyrius?"

Said eye twitched as the mustached man's smile twisted into a scowl. Motioning to his entourage, he flexed his calves and I could see razor-sharp spikes spear out of the bottom of his boots, punching holes through the ground underneath his feet. "Leave Qrow to me, we have unfinished business, you take the boy." Before they started forward, his expression darkened. "Remember, nonlethal. Minose wants him alive."

At his closing words, he darted towards Qrow and his men moved in formation towards me. I dove to the side as a wave of bullets eradicated the space where I used to be. As I sped towards the floor, I aimed the handgun at the closest man and plugged as many rounds as I could into him before landing on all fours. The bullets slammed into his torso, sending lightning arcing all across his body. He dropped to the ground with little resistance.

Upon hitting the floor, I used my free hand and legs to launch forward into a roll. I could feel the air displace around me as each shot narrowly missed my . At the end of the roll, I rose to a kneel and emptied the rest of the clip at the second grunt. As the last bullet left the gun, dropping him like the first, I got to my feet and faced the last two.

"Go into melee," the one on the left ordered, and they both slung their rifles over their shoulders and drew security batons from their hips. With a flick, they crackled to life, rivulets of energy running up and down the shaft. "He can't take us both on at the same time."

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't have stopped the grin that spread across my face. I lived for moments like these, becoming nothing but a man forced to result to his own wit and skill to survive lethal encounters. It's why I sometimes regretted having the easy-access arsenal the Pip-Boy provided. Most fights lost their challenge when I could just pull out a gun large enough to turn whatever I was facing into red mist. There was just no satisfaction.

The first guard lunged forward, stabbing his baton forward in an attempt to poke my chest with the electrical tip. I stepped backwards, only to find that Goon #2 had swung his towards my legs. Leaping over his attack, I flicked the spent magazine free of my stolen handgun before ramming my last one home and racking the slide. They didn't even have time to advance forward again before I leveled it at them.

"Drop the sticks, boys." I said, gesturing with the gun.

Too bad they didn't listen.

In sync, the attacked together, Goon #1 aiming high while Goon #2 went low once again. I danced between their strikes, slamming my left arm into #1's throat. He stumbled backwards, but before he fell to the ground, I grabbed him and shot three rounds into his chest before tossing him to the side. He went limp, tumbling across the ground before rolling to a stop.

A sharp shock in my back snapped my attention back around to #2. He had a triumphant gin on his face at managing to land a hit, but that confidence faded when I shook off the electricity and pistol whipped him in the side of his head. Whatever resistance he had shattered instantly, causing my eyebrow to raise.

'Christ, might've overdone that one a bit…'

Flicking my eyes back to Qrow and Phyrius, I watched their duel transpire. It was surprisingly evenly matched, the mustached man's absurd lower body strength compensating for Qrow's speed and reach. In fact, it looked like neither of them had even managed to land a hit. The scythe-wielder darted around Phyrius, trying to get in close with his blade, but every attempt was thwarted by an expertly placed block from Phyrius's spiked boots.

At least, until luck decided to give him the finger.

Qrow suddenly stopped, before approaching him straight on. I saw a smile appear on Phyrius's face as he stepped forward to block another attack, only for it to melt once his legs caught together and he tripped.

A grown man tripped in the middle of combat.

Fucking tripped.

I shoved my laughter down as Qrow launched the man like a golf ball with a wide swing, sending him flying into the nearest wall. It wasn't good to laugh at someone else's misfortune, and, before my other strengths had made up for it, my luck had always left me up shit creek without a paddle. Sometimes I felt like the universe enjoyed watching me suffer.

As if sensing my presence, Qrow turned towards me before his opponent . "Hurry up and get your stuff! It's the door two down from you!"

"What about helping you?"

"Don't worry about it. I can beat the shit out of him with a blindfold, besides you'll be little help without your gear, right?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, I nodded. He was right, my own weaponry and armor would be far more suited to dealing with someone of that calibre than the small handgun I had. Following his instructions, I found the door he was talking about. There was no handle, but like the last one I had opened, there was a slot for a keycard on the left. I reached out to slide the keycard through it only to realize that I wasn't holding onto it anymore. I glanced back towards the hole he had made in the wall. It must've fell out of my hand when I had to cover Qrow after his gung-ho charge into danger.

"There's no way you can get it back now though," my brain said, shifting my attention back to the fight between Qrow and Phyrius. They had gotten back at it, each side now with a few cuts and bruises each. The biggest problem was that their skirmish blocked most of the hallway, preventing me from returning to the first. "We're stuck."

A sigh escaped my lips and I turned back back to the door. Without a card, I couldn't get in. That left me a handgun and whatever I could scrounge up to fight Phyrius and anything else that stood between us and freedom. Absentmindedly, I rubbed my branded shoulder and examined every inch of the doorway. There was no way I was going to leave Qrow to fend for himself, so I had to figure out something. My gaze eventually landed on the blinking card slot.

Inspiration struck like a bolt of irradiated lightning.

Without wasting any time, I sped over to the box and dropped my handgun to the floor. Frantically, my fingers sped across the thick, metal casing looking for anything to pry it off with. To my dismay, my hands could only find the screws that bolted the box to the wall.

Backing up a step, I scanned the room for something I could use to loosen them. My eyes caught on one of the unconscious bodies and I gave a silent cry of triumph. A short sheath with a handle sticking out was strapped over his right pectoral. It was just what I needed.

Taking the knife in my hand, I turned back to the box and went to work. A screwdriver would have been much easier to work with, but I wasn't going to complain. Besides, a knife was more than what I needed to pry the box off.

When I had each screw about halfway off, I stabbed the knife into the wall and resorted to using my hands. It came loose with a groan, exposing a tangled mess of multi-colored wires underneath.

"Christ," I muttered, pulling one loose and examining it. "All that time spent with Raul had better have paid off."

With that said, I dove into the noodle-like mess in an attempt to bypass the door's security before more backup came.

"You're slipping up old man."

Qrow grunted, dodging a roundhouse kick and sending in a swing of his own. To his increasing frustration, Phyrius avoided the blow, leaping backwards nimbly. Even though he was a bit slower than Qrow, the other man managed to stay just a step-and-a-half ahead. It was becoming infuriating. That wasn't even mentioning the biting remarks about his age he kept sending his way.

'I swear,' he thought, briefly swapping Harbringer back to sword form to get in close. 'Once we get out of here, if that kid doesn't have some of the best liquor in the world, I'm going to skin his hide.'

Speaking of the kid, a quick slip on Phyrius's part allowed him to ram the hilt of his blade home into his temple before slamming his foot into his chest, sending the other man sprawling across the floor, giving him a brief window to look at his charge.

Six was standing near the door to the armory, with the multiple different grunts he had taken out earlier still sprawled around him. He was frantically pulling at wires from the keycard slot and he could see his lips forming silent words. Sparks suddenly launched forth from it in a fireworks display, and he swore vehemently before getting right back to work.

'Why isn't he using the keycard?'

Before he could dwell too much on his actions, something moved out of the corner of his eye and he ducked, narrowly avoiding the foot that was aimed towards his face. He barely had time to recover before his opponent threw in a jab with his lead hand. His fist bounced off of Harbringer and he recoiled backwards, hissing at the fact he had just punched solid metal with his bare hand.

"What?" Qrow snickered, backing up to clear space between him and the kickboxer. "You forgot that you don't wear gauntlets? If that's true, then it's embarrassing for me to not have taken you out by now."

Phyrius growled and a vein throbbed on his forehead, but his mouth soon split into a cheshire smile. It was a stark contrast to the frustrated expression he mirrored during their fight. "Don't count me out yet, you old geezer."

In one sudden movement, he tore his lavender military jacket apart, exposing his muscular torso underneath. His Aura suddenly flared around him, lighting the room with a purple glow. Every muscle on his body, most notably his legs, swelled with newfound strength, the veins practically popping out of the skin. Slamming one of his feet into the ground, he cracked the cement below him, sending fractures spiderwebbing out from the point of contact.

"I'M JUST BARELY GETTING STARTED!" he roared, brandishing his fists in fury.

Then, he leapt towards Qrow, screaming the whole way.

Upon landing, Phyrius swung his right leg low, intending to decimate Qrow's own. Hastily, he thrust his sword down to block it, only for the weapon to almost be torn from his grasp. He barely had time to recover before a barrage of strikes were thrust upon him. As he expected, the man had received a massive boost to strength and speed, leaving his strikes as mere blurs while he hit with the equivalent force of an eighteen-wheeler. The only reason Qrow hadn't loss yet, was because his Semblance was now pushed into overdrive, turning each unlucky scenario into a couple extra moments to live.

"Is that your Semblance?" he asked, narrowly avoiding an axe kick that threatened to crack his skull. "Because if it is, then you should probably ask for a refund. It sucks."

Of all of his comments he had made earlier, this one seemed to break the last of Phyrius's self control. If it was possible, he got even angrier, his swings becoming wilder and more erratic. Although any complex fighting style he had was gone, he was now harder to predict. He seemed to just throw out every attack in hopes that it would land.

And, at the moment, it was working.

His defense was getting torn apart at an alarming rate. With one great roundhouse kick, Phyrius finally knocked Harbringer from his grasp, sending the sword sliding across the floor. Without a weapon, he had to rely on his fists to block his opponents spiked shoes, focusing his Aura into his arms to avoid getting shredded.

"YOU CAN'T STOP ME QROW!" Each leg that rained down upon him forced him backwards, gradually backing him up against the wall. A couple more seconds and his Aura would be smash into little pieces. "I WILL RIP YOU INSIDE OU-"

He stopped suddenly, before catching a knife that nearly impaled him in the forehead. A smile appeared on his face and he turned in the direction it came from.

That smile turned to shock when Six wrapped his arms around his stomach and tackled him to the ground.

Qrow's eyes widened in shock as the kid not only started to whale away at Phyrius's mustached face with his free hand, but managed to avoid his thrashing limbs. That was impressive in its own right, considering he had barely been able to dodge them himself. Studying their scuffle for a few seconds revealed his answer though. Six wasn't dodging when the limbs came, he was predicting where his opponents next blow would come from and moving accordingly. It was something Huntsman didn't usually have to do because their speed allowed them to avoid attacks as they came, but that didn't make his feat any less impressive.

Suddenly, Six jabbed his open palm into Phyrius's chest, causing the man to literally freeze up. His muscles locked in place and his face stayed screwed up in a visage of unending rage. With his opponent disabled, he brought up his other hand, a handgun clenched between his fingers. A rapid burst of gunfire discharged from the gun, only to slowly ebb away into a chorus of empty clicks.

Spitting off to the side, Six stood up and tossed the handgun to the ground in disgust. Phyrius was now unconscious on the ground, his Aura having been overloaded by the sheer quantity of Lightning Dust rounds the kid had pumped into him. Small arcs of electricity bounced around his body, and, every so often, he would twitch from the shocks.

"You alright?"

Qrow glanced back towards Six, ignoring his question and examining him up and down. His body was free of fresh wounds, though the heavily scarred tissue made it hard to tell. The only thing that looked somewhat new, were a couple of electrical burns that he presumed were from his fight with the Mad Dogs and the rabid dog branded into his shoulder.

"I thought I told you get your stuff and then help me out, not charge in here recklessly with just a pistol?"

Six snorted, gesturing to Phyrius's unconscious form. "And let you take on the chem junkie by yourself? No way." He walked over to Harbringer and picked it up before returning and offering back to Qrow. "Besides, I doubt you would've done much without this anyways."

'Chem junkie?' Qrow thought, giving him a thankful nod and stretching out his hand. 'Never heard that before.'

As he reached for the weapon, Six frowned, studying the hilt carefully. "What's this trigger for?"

Before Qrow realized what he was talking about, he had pulled the trigger, firing a spray of buckshot into the air. His eyes softened and a grin of pure joy spread across his face. "Your sword-scythe is also a gun?! That is one of the coolest things I've ever seen!" He suddenly brought the circular center up to his face. "The mechanism alone must contain hundreds of individual components..."

'Wow, Ruby would love him.'

Quickly, he swiped Harbringer back and did his best to look annoyed, but ultimately failed. Six's mood was just so contagious, it was impossible to stay mad at him. Which was weird, considering how off-putting he had been when they first met.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Both of them snapped their heads around to the new voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Qrow noticed that Six's hazel eyes returned to their resting state of intensity and his mouth curled into a snarl. Not that he blamed him, in fact, upon seeing who had talked, his own face couldn't help but twist into disgust.

Minose stood at the same door Phyrius had entered from, a disappointed scowl on his face as he looked down at his enforcer. A little to his left stood a beautiful, raven-haired woman in a short, red dress with glowing markings running along the sleeves and collar. Her face was wreathed in the shadows of the doorway, obscuring her identity from view. Behind both of them was another host of Mad Dog members who quickly fanned out and aimed their rifles at the two of them.

"I guess I overestimated your skill," Minose said, shaking his head in shame. "But don't worry about that, I'll deal with you later." With that said, he turned towards Six and flashed a sleazy grin. "Now, we have to get you ready for the Maze tonight. I've got people expecting a show."

"Already expecting an easy victory, eh?" Six asked mockingly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't count us out just yet, Minose. I've still got a couple of tricks up my sleeves." He paused, glancing at his bare arms. "Or lack thereof."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"This," he said, before grabbing Harbringer from Qrow's grasp and firing it at the fluorescent light standing between them, sending a shower of sparks falling down the hallway.

Then, all hell broke loose.

I am so sorry about the long wait. Between finals and moving, I've been pretty busy. I know excuses don't really count for much, but I'm going to try and be quicker at putting these out. I seriously don't want to have a JonTron-esque upload schedule.

That being said, I'm going to be on vacation for the next week and a half, so I won't have much time to write. What I will have a lot of time to do, however, is brainstorm.

Now onto the actual chapter.

I hope you guys enjoyed it. I still have one or two more chapters planned for the Mad Dogs before I get into canon events, so I hope this isn't too dull.

All feedback is appreciated, both good and bad, just please don't be a dick about it. There's nothing more disheartening than someone rip apart your entire work without offering anything helpful.

Take care of yourselves.

SVVessel