Chapter 2

Butters finished Pyrrha's check-up and departed shortly after Harry had established their next move. The short man deemed Pyrrha's leg healed, if weak from the injury, and left a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers with Harry in case something came up. He also gave Harry a firm reminder to not let her stress it. Even if it was scar damage, there had been plenty of muscle damage, and it could take an indeterminate amount of time for it to completely recover.

"Thank you Doctor," Pyrrha said, giving the most patient smile she could. "I will be as careful as I can."

Butters grunted, "Hmph, make sure you are. I've got enough trouble with Harry tearing himself up all the time, I'd rather not add you to the list of unofficial patients."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I think she's got it Butters."

The little man puffed out his chest in indignation for a moment, then sighed and began packing up his medical equipment, "Right, right. Sorry. Good luck Ms. Nikos."

He zipped the bag shut, swung it over his shoulder, and gave them both a level nod. Then he left, taking that weird skull with him. Pyrrha made a mental note to ask Harry what the deal was behind that later. There were other items higher on her priority list for the moment.

"So, you hungry, kid?" Harry asked.

That would be one of them.

Pyrrha opened her mouth, and her stomach answered for her. A warbling groan from her midsection that managed to reverberate across the apartments admittedly cavernous walls. She flushed red and nodded, "That sounds lovely. Thank you."

Harry shrugged and meandered to the kitchen bar, "I'm no chef, but I do have food. Why don't you make yourself at home while I scramble something together? Until we figure out a way to get you home, my apartment is open to you."

Her smile returned, "I don't think I can thank you enough Mr. Dresden. You really are too kind."

That got her a grunt of reply from Harry. "Yeah, that's me, picture of kindness. Just, leave the desk and book case alone. Delicate items, I'd rather you not mess with them."

Pyrrha glanced at the desk nestled into the wall. Now that she had a full view of it, she realized that it wasn't as neat and orderly as she thought. The books in the shelves above were neatly stacked, but not in any particular order. Bottles, boxes, and baubles of varying shape and size were stacked around the desk on small plastic shelves, ordered into sections of their own personal chaos. Several notebooks lay open on the desk and a carved wooden skull rested in the center of it all. Two little white roses rested on either side of it, just starting to wilt.

"Hmm," Pyrrha hummed, "That's your equipment, right? You're the equivalent of a Hunter?"

Harry chuckled, "Well, some might say that, but it's not quite accurate. I'm a Private Investigator, who happens to also be a professional Wizard of the White Council." Something on the makeshift stove sizzled and popped. The smell of eggs followed a moment later, and Pyrrha's stomach rumbled again.

She ignored it, and glanced back at Harry, "Wait, a Wizard? As in, a magician? Someone who can use things like magic?"

Harry snapped his fingers, "Bingo!" A tiny flame of fire lit on the end of his finger without burning it. He smirked and shook his hand, extinguishing it.

When he looked back up, he jumped back in surprise. Pyrrha was sitting at the bar, a small but eager smile on her face, and a fresh notebook in her hands. Harry looked from her to the middle of the living room where she'd been standing. He'd looked away for maybe half a second! Pyrrha just smiled her polite smile at him, oblivious to his confusion.

"…Where'd you get the notebook?" Harry finally asked.

She glanced at the pages, "I borrowed it, you had extras. I'm sorry, was that rude?"

It wasn't everyday someone took such an interest in magic. The last person Harry could honestly think of that had been this eager was his former apprentice, Molly. But those days were long since passed.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting me to tell you kiddo." He finally admitted. "I know you don't have the gift, it'd just be trivia to you."

Pyrrha quirked her lips, "I think I'd disagree on that. If what you're saying is true and magic is real here, then wouldn't it be better for me to understand it so I can be prepared for it in case we run into something nasty?"

He gave her a cautious glance, "What makes you think we would?"

"Past experience," Pyrrha shrugged.

Harry grunted and scratched the back of his head, "Right, guess I can't argue with that. But I can't just tell you everything. The White Council doesn't exactly like big magical secrets being spread around to vanilla mortals, and I don't have what most people would call a 'healthy' or 'safe' relationship with them right now either."

"Then let's keep it simple?" she suggested.

The eggs sizzled on the pan, and Harry raised one brow at her. Pyrrha politely smiled at him in response. "Uh huh," he finally said. "Pyrrha, I get the curiosity, trust me it's the not the first time I've dealt with it. But right now the priority is figuring out why you are here."

Her smile faded a little as Harry spoke, "So, I'll ask the questions first, okay? Once I think I have a decent picture of the situation, I'll tell you all you want to know. Within reason."

The faint slump was obvious to Harry, but Pyrrha tried to hide it anyway, "Alright. You do have a point."

Personally, she'd rather have something to take her mind off the harsh truth. That she was a long way from home, in a world completely unlike her own, with no idea how or why she was there or how to get back. It was a problem she had never had to deal with before, and a small part of her didn't want to deal with it.

Harry did make a good point though, they needed to find out why she was there, even if the answer wasn't one she would like. Just because she didn't want to do something, didn't mean she could deny the responsibility. As a Huntress it was her duty to put the health and well-being of others above her own, and anything less was inexcusable.

'Just answer his questions,' she thought, 'Then you can move on. Bite the bullet Pyrrha.'

She took a deep breath and sighed, "So, what do you want to know?"

Harry kept cooking as promised, but his questions came out short, precise, and quick. Obviously he had a lot of experience with this kind of thing. "Let's start with the basic. Last thing you remember before you woke up in that alley. Be specific on the details, anything you remember could help."

"Didn't I answer that question already?" she asked dryly.

The look she got made her do a 180 on that stance, and she went ramrod stiff, "Right, sorry!"

All she got was a sigh in response, which she took as the go ahead to tell him what she remembered. Pyrrha thought back to the last thing she could remember before she woke in that alley. Details were very important like Harry said, so she focused on that.

"Well, like I said, the very last thing I remember is being called up to Headmaster Ozpins office. Before that, my team and I had taken place in the Vytal festival and were part of the tournament. Its bi-annual, and we had just finished our first match. Afterwards, we went out celebrating before I received a message on my scroll that the Headmaster wanted to see me. From there, it's a blur."

Harry frowned, "A scroll?"

"Portable communication device," Pyrrha explained, "Do you not have those here?"

"We do," Harry said, "Though people call them Cell Phones. I think. Don't know, don't own one. You're sure that's all you remember? What about this team you faced in the tournament?"

Pyrrha frowned, "I can't remember their names, it feels like it was so long ago, but… I don't think they'd try something like this, even if it was possible."

Travel between alternate worlds was something a bit out of the realm of possibility for even the mightiest of Hunters of Huntresses, least as far as Pyrrha knew. Harry though, seemed unconvinced, "None of them could've used that… Aura thingy you mentioned? I know some people who don't take losing real well."

Pyrrha shook her head, "No, no, they were good sports about it in the end, I promise. Plus, an Aura can't do something like that. It's a projection of one's soul, and its used to protect Huntresses from physical harm while boosting our speed and strength. Without it, we'd be as strong as the average human and couldn't use our Semblance."

Another raised brow. Pyrrha sighed, "A Semblance is an ability every Huntress possesses, the manifestation of their Aura. Some can move faster than the eye can follow, one of my teammates can absorb electricity, and a friend of mine gets stronger the more someone tries to hurt her."

Harry rubbed his chin, and moved the eggs off the stove, "I see. And you?"

A simple thought, and raised hand sent a kitchen fork lying on the counter next to Harry flying into her hand with a soft 'thwap!' of impact.

"Polarity." Pyrrha smiled, "I can manipulate metal and steel."

Harry quirked his lips, "Huh, a girly Magneto. Neat."

"Who?"

"Stupid reference," Harry said off hand, "On topic, you're saying that these Semblances tend to be physical or combat oriented?"

"Far as I know, yes."

Harry muttered under his breath, "Guess that eliminates the revenge theory for now. One more question, then you need to eat."

Pyrrha's stomach grumbled again in agreement. She blushed and ducked her head, "Er, yes. What is it?"

"Do you think that whatever happened to you was caused by your Headmaster?" asked Harry.

Pyrrha opened her mouth to respond, and froze. Harry frowned, "Pyrrha, you okay?"

She didn't hear him. Her skull was pounding, pulsing with electricity. It hurt, scorching the nerves of her brain with searing fire. A hammer blow seemingly knocked across the back of her skull and Pyrrha fell forward, barely stopping herself from hitting her head on the bar. Harry rushed around to help her, saying something.

Images flashed in her mind, a dozen memories that she saw for a moment, then lost in that same instant. Something had happened after she met Ozpin, something bad. She couldn't remember what though, and trying to remember, it hurt. It hurt so much.

Pyrrha clenched her eyes tight and felt tears at their corners. A small part of her realized she was crying. The rest started to scream. More memories, more pain, so much pain. But she couldn't pinpoint any of it, all she knew was that it was wrong, and that it hurt. Well, no, that was a lie. There was one thing she remembered, that much was true. She reached out and grabbed onto that one memory, that one vital memory of what might've happened to her. She didn't know what it meant, but it was important. In a sea of pain that thrashed at her, tore at her, wanted nothing more than to drown her in its bitter agony, it was a life raft that kept her from drowning.

And as quick as it came, the pain was gone.

Pyrrha realized she was crying. Gut wrenching, stinging sobs. Tears streaked down her face in rivers. She gasped for air and opened her eyes through the tears. The kitchen was dark now, someone had turned out the lights. Pyrrha let out another sob and tried to cover her face with her hands. It was then she realized that an iron grip was on either wrist, keeping them from thrashing about.

Harry had her held in place, his strength something far greater than even someone his size should've been able to produce. But hold her he did, until the great heaving sobs finally died into more manageable weeping. Once he was sure she wouldn't hurt herself, Harry let Pyrrha go with exaggerated care.

She immediately buried her head in her arms and started crying again. Her scarlet hair was everywhere now, a total mess. Harry was at least kind enough to pull it away from her face, and he sat on the nearest stool next to her, keeping a comforting hand on her shoulder. Pyrrha didn't do anything, just kept crying until finally, the tears just wouldn't come. She didn't feel any better.

Just stable.

Barely.

"How you feeling?" Harry finally asked after an eternity of silence.

Pyrrha felt humiliated. While she wouldn't call herself a prideful girl, and her recent situation certainly hadn't been a cause for her to feel very prideful, Pyrrha was a warrior. With that came an image she was supposed to uphold for others, an ideal for them to strive towards. Ever since her fame had started to rise, her mother had reminded her to always maintain composure, because those around her would always be watching and judging.

So she had, and in the first hour of meeting a potential ally, she had a mental breakdown from a simple question. Humiliated was the only word that adequately described how she felt for the moment. Harry, apparently, realized this.

"Hey, hey," he gave a gentle pat on the back and carefully tilted her head up.

She was a mess, big puffy red eyes, tear stained face, and a nose full of snot. Actual full on sobbing was never pretty for most people. A handful of people on the planet might be able to pull it off but Pyrrha was not a pretty crier. To be fair, Harry probably wasn't either, but he was much too manly to ever cry. Totally too manly to cry.

"It's alright," Harry softly said. He used a paper towel to wipe her tears away, and brushed her hair out of her face. "Just take a deep breath alright?"

Pyrrha sniffled and did as he said. One breath in, one breath out. One breath in, one breath out. It was no cure, but it made her feel… Well certainly not better, but a little more capable.

Harry smiled, a genuine one unlike his usual sarcastic grins. "See? Feeling any better?" Pyrrha murmured something and he leaned down, "Sorry, could you say that again?"

"…Do you believe in Destiny?"

He blinked, "Pardon?"

Another sniffle, and Harry handed her a fresh paper towel. "Thank you," she murmured, and blew her nose. "Do you believe in Destiny? When I… when you asked me if I remembered, all these memories came pouring in. I couldn't hold onto any of them… Except that."

A few more tears spilled from her eyes, "I don't know why, but… It hurts, just to say it."

It was true. A gnarled and twisted knot had formed in the center of her sternum, right below her neck. It burned with intensity every time she thought of the phrase, but she had no idea why.

Harry's smile faded away into something more serious. It wasn't a mean expression, just very… Solid. "Pyrrha," he started, "I want you to listen to me, and listen closely, okay?"

She nodded her confirmation, but remained silent. Harry continued, "The way I used to see it, we as people have two paths when it comes to that question. Either you think you have a grand destiny, or you don't. But I see a third option now. You can either worry about whatever it is your destiny is, or you can move on with your life and forge your own destiny."

Pyrrha looked confused. That seemed the same as the second option. Harry raised a hand, "Let me explain. I know that someday I will die. It happens to everyone. Me, you, our friends. It's a sad fact of life, but it's a fact. But that trip there, what you'll do and change along the way is entirely up to you. Sure, there might be some railroading along the way, but there is nothing stopping you from creating the destiny you want. Understand now? Destiny isn't some predefined objective you are striving towards. It's your end goal."

He sighed, "Long winded speech short, I believe in my own destiny, not the destiny others tell me. If I did, I'd have died a long time ago. Make sense?"

A few new tears formed in Pyrrha's eyes, but they were happier tears, tears of relief. While thinking that phrase brought her pain still, what Harry said made a lot of sense. She wasn't some pupped to be hung about on strings for someone else's amusement. No, she was a person with her own feelings, thoughts and goals. Whatever her destiny was, she would forge it herself.

Harry wasn't prepared for the tight hug Pyrrha gave him. A few ribs might have popped, but he'd had worse. Besides, judging by the pain versus tears quota, it seemed like Pyrrha was long over-due for a hug. Harry returned it, letting her borrow some comfort from him.

She finally looked up at him after a minute of crushing his ribs, eyes a little clearer, "Thank you, Mr. Dresden. Really."

"Ah, its nothing," Harry said dismissively, "Though just call me Harry. The whole Mr. Dresden thing is starting to sound weird."

Pyrrha blinked then nodded, her lips twitching. The Soulgaze wasn't wrong, Harry was a good man. And one willing to weather a storm it seemed…

Because when Pyrrha glanced around, she saw why the lights had gone out. They had been those fancy recessed lamps made of steel that looked really classy in the right conditions. Had being the key word there. In her fit, Pyrrha's Semblance had flattened every light in the kitchen. It had also knocked drawers out of their cupboards, nearly knocked the oven over, and ruined the eggs. A dozen knives and forks were embedded in the ceiling and walls, and one knife hung loosely from his shirt. The only thing that kept that sight from causing a panic attack was the fact that there was no blood.

"Oh my…" she said softly.

"Bah, it's no big deal," Harry assured her, "Minor damages, my landlord should understand."

Pyrrha started to hang her head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

Harry stopped her, "Ah, no more of that. We've had one crying fit today, I'd rather not make it two."

That made her smile a little and-

A low groan echoed through the kitchen. Pyrrha blinked, "Um, what was that?"

Harry glanced down, "That, would be the metal bar stool you crushed finally giving way under our combined weight."

"…Oh…"

"Yeah."

There was a snap like a breaking twig, and the two went tumbling to the floor. Harry landed on the floor splayed, and Pyrrha landed on top of him. He made an 'oof!' noise from the impact. Pyrrha blinked stars from her eyes and pushed herself up.

"Hehe, sorry about that."

Harry laid there and grumbled, "Don't worry about it. Shaping up to be one of those days anyway…"

On cue, the handle to the apartment's entrance jiggled and turned, opening the door a moment later. The creek it made lasted a subjective eternity for the two before it finally swung open all the way to reveal…

A short woman, no more than five feet tall, with bright blue eyes, and short blonde hair that came down to her jawline in an even sheet. She had an adorable button nose and laugh lines that looked recent. She was dressed in a dark blue shirt, jeans, and wore a sports jacket that read 'Chicago Cubs' on the side. This woman walked in, carrying two bags worth of clothes, and just stopped in place.

Pyrrha blinked once, looking at her. Harry followed her gaze, saw the woman, and froze stiff. The awkward silence was as thick as snow, until the woman spoke, in a deceptively calm voice, "Harry, you have exactly ten seconds to explain."

That got the big man moving, "K-Karrin, it's not what it looks like, I swear to God it's not what it looks like!"

The woman, Karrin, raised a blonde brow at him, then glanced at Pyrrha again. Her face was an unreadable mask. That was, until the giant grin spread across her face.

"Well then, you better start explaining then, shouldn't you?"

Pyrrha finished her shower and began the long and tedious process of brushing her hair straight. There had to be some reason she had decided to grow it this long, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was. At this point, she had gone too far to really go back now. So she sat on the edge of the bathroom sink, brushing her scarlet hair until it shone.

She took the time to reflect on the events that had unfolded after Karrin Murphy (Murphy, as the woman insisted she call her) had arrived at the apartment. To everyone's relief, Murphy had not tried to kill Pyrrha on the spot, and instead had let her and Harry disentangle themselves. Murphy had, apparently, gone out to buy some proper clothes for Pyrrha while she had slept, for obvious reasons. The short woman handed the bags off to Pyrrha after introductions were made, and let her shower, while Harry agreed to explain the situation to Murphy in the interlude.

Pyrrha hoped that she hadn't gotten Harry into too much trouble with that accident. It was obvious that he and Ms. Murphy were an item, and Pyrrha would never want to get in the way of anyone's relationship. She personally knew how that felt.

She let out a sigh and pulled her hair back. Thinking about her home wasn't going to get her there, as much as she wanted it to. Action was required, and as her friends often said, Pyrrha was a girl of action.

A selection of hair ties lay on the counter, courtesy of Murphy, and Pyrrha used one to hold her hair in place. Her bangs fell forward again, framing her face, but that was normal. The girl in the mirror smiled at her, but Pyrrha knew it was fake. She was in a strange world with no memory of how she got there, and without anything familiar to hold onto. Even her hairstyle looked alien without her tiara to neatly hold it in place.

'But,' she thought, 'I'm not entirely alone. I do have at least one ally in this world. That's certainly better than the alternative.'

Dresden's words echoed in her mind again, and she felt happier just thinking about them. No one would keep her from getting home, not even herself. Without a shadow of a doubt, Pyrrha knew that was her destiny, to return home to her friends and defend the Four Kingdoms from the Grimm. That was her destiny, and no one, not Grimm, not White Fang, not even her own morbid sense of negativity would stop her.

"A lack of pants will though." Pyrrha giggled a little, and decided to check out what Murphy had gotten for her. It was only two pairs to choose from, Murphy hadn't known if Pyrrha had a home where she could change, but they were surprisingly thematic nonetheless. Murphy had good taste.

Pyrrha settled for something simple, given the type of clothing she'd seen from this world, and chose a long sleeved red blouse, a black skirt that stopped mid-thigh, and a pair of black stockings. Pyrrha missed her boots, but settled for red slip-on's that Murphy had chosen for her. Sneakers were never her style anyway.

"I suppose that will have to do," Pyrrha said to herself. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her new outfit, and exited the bathroom.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head to hard?" Murphy asked Harry. Pyrrha stopped in front of the door and smiled a little. Odds were good that he'd finished his bit of exposition, and like Butters, Murphy didn't believe it.

They had both migrated back to the fireplace, and Murphy wore an expression that, to a more cynical mind, could only be described as 'extreme skepticism'. Harry took it in stride. "She's legit Karrin. Plus you saw the kitchen, at the very least there's some truth to what she says. Only way to really confirm it though, is to head into that alley where we found her."

"Speaking of," Pyrrha interjected, "I'm ready to leave when you are Mister- I mean Harry."

They looked back at her and Harry blinked, "Huh. I didn't think you even knew what a skirt was Karrin."

Murphy crossed her arms and gave Harry a steady look, "What does she mean Harry? Please tell me you didn't offer to let her tag-along."

"Well, I…"

"I convinced him," Pyrrha said quickly, before Harry started to dig his own grave.

Murphy looked back at her, then at Harry, "That doesn't surprise me, you always were a sucker for a pretty face Dresden."

Harry sighed and stood up, "Yeah yeah, I'm a total pushover. Either way, Pyrrha is going to tag along,"

"Harry, don't be stupid. She's just a kid, and regardless of what she says, we can't just let her 'tag-along'. This could be dangerous."

"Then why not lend me a weapon?" Pyrrha interrupted, again. Harry and Murphy both stopped, and looked at Pyrrha. During their argument, she'd walked up between them in case things got heated. Neither had even noticed her until she'd spoke up.

Murphy frowned, "You're kidding, right? We can't just give an unlicensed minor a weapon."

Pyrrha frowned, "That hardly seems fair, given the circumstances."

"And neither would bringing you into a potentially dangerous situation." Murphy said. "Hell, you're lucky to be walking around at all."

"I am perfectly fine Miss Murphy, honest," Pyrrha insisted. She could understand why Murphy was so reluctant, after all, she didn't know what Pyrrha could do. But even so, this was getting ridiculous.

"Do you even know how to handle a gun?" Murphy asked.

"Yes," Pyrrha said, "Since I was just a child. Everyone I know can use a gun."

"Well-" Murphy began, ready to argue some more.

Harry interrupted that thought process though. "Enough!"

They both fell silent, though Pyrrha felt she was being rather unfairly treated by this whole situation. Harry rubbed at his eyes for a moment, obviously tired. Then, he gave Murphy a fixed look, "It's just a quick trip to the alleyway, see if anything suspicious is afoot. If things go sideways, we can defend her if we need to. Otherwise though, I don't see the harm in letting Pyrrha tag along."

And that was the end of that.

Pyrrha was never sure exactly what part of that sentence convinced Murphy to let her come along, but the woman sighed and marched off to the door. "Fine, fine. If you're ready, then I'm ready."

Harry gathered his duster, staff, and the rod (he called it a blasting rod). Murphy grabbed her jacket, and Pyrrha just waited on three of them left Harry's apartment behind. Murphy insisted they used her car instead of Harry's on account of it being completely wrecked right now, and lead them to a much sleeker looking vehicle in comparison to the bulbous bug that Harry drove. It was a bright white four door coup, and looked new. When Pyrrha got into the back, the new car smell still lingered.

"I will never understand why you chose to buy another Beetle," Murphy said to Harry once everyone was settled in.

Harry set his staff on the console between their seats and sighed, "You wouldn't get it Murphy. The old Blue Beetle may be gone for good, but I don't see anything wrong with a little nostalgia."

"I bet those old man knees of yours disagree," Murphy replied. There was humor in her voice though, and Harry chuckled. "You know you love it."

"Do I?" Murphy tapped her lip. "I guess I do."

Oh yeah. Definitely a couple.

Pyrrha stared out the window as Murphy drove them through the streets of Chicago. Last night's thunderstorm had left the city soaked, and the thick cloud cover overhead made sure it hadn't evaporated yet.

One thing Pyrrha noticed immediately once they started driving, was that the city was big. Very big. Vale had been fairly large for a human settlement, which weren't exactly common back home. Large scale cities had a habit of naturally generating negativity that could attract Grimm. It was why the Mountain Glenn project, an attempt to expand the cities borders, had ended so poorly.

Chicago clearly didn't have that problem. The skyscrapers were colossal things, stretching so high that Pyrrha could see them start to curve. Thousands of bustling people crowded the sidewalks and streets, each going about their day. Vale could have moments like that too, and it certainly had its share of skyscrapers, but the difference was in numbers. Vale had a few towers downtown, while Chicago was packed with them. There had to be more people living in the city than all of Vale combined.

This was a world where the Grimm didn't exist. A world without constant fear, a constant never changing threat. Chicago was an example of what Remnant would be in true peace. A peace that might never come.

It was an unspoken truth among… well, everyone. The Grimm were a force of nature, like a hurricane or earthquake. Sure, you could build walls, shore your defenses, and prepare for the next tragedy to strike, but you could never end them. No matter what they did, at best they could limit the damage the Grimm inflicted on them, and at worse, survive a tragedy.

That had to be it, didn't it? Something had happened back at Vale, something bad. That would explain how she'd wound up in Chicago, or at the very least, provide a plausible motivation for whoever sent her there. Pyrrha's stomach twirled and she felt queasy. If someone had sent her away, what did they plan on doing? Every Huntress pulled from the front lines was another chink in the carefully constructed defenses of Vale.

What tragedy had struck her home? Pyrrha twitched, and looked away from the window. "How much longer?"

"I'm looking for a place to park," Murphy responded.

Harry grabbed his staff as they came to a stop by a familiar location. The scuffle from the previous night had left its mark. Claw marks several inches deep had been dug into the surrounding asphalt, and a pair of dark skid marks were clear on the street, along with a chunk of steel about a foot in diameter.

A small construction crew was parked across the street from them, scratching their heads at the damage. The answer obviously wouldn't occur to them, and Pyrrha was rather reluctant to tell them. To her surprise though, most civilians were simply ignoring the damage to the road, as if it were a common occurrence!

"Get used to it kid," Harry said. "People in general tend to ignore things that don't fit into their daily lives. A little road damage won't catch their eye."

Pyrrha frowned, "That does not seem right."

Harry opened his door, "It's not. It's a coping mechanism."

He stood up and opened Pyrrha's door for her. That made her smile a little, and she joined him and Murphy around the car. They were quite the odd group, a near seven foot tall man dressed in a leather duster with an equally tall, intricately carved staff, a six foot tall red head dressed for what looked like her first business meeting, and the five nothing blonde woman in a Chicago Cubs sport jacket. Subtlety was not their strongest suite.

Murphy popped open the trunk, and Pyrrha's eyes widened in surprise. Several black duffel bags were packed tightly away inside. Pyrrha's semblance told her that there was enough firepower in the trunk of that car to service a small army.

Murphy glance at Harry, "So, what do you think? Bring the duffel bag, or leave it?"

The wizard looked from the trunk, to his staff, to Murphy. "How's your arm?"

Murphy scowled at Harry, the most venomous look Pyrrha had seen on the woman's face. "Harry. Duffel bag or no?"

Harry was unphased by the look Murphy gave him, and tapped his staff lightly against her leg. "Murphy, you just finished physical therapy. How is your arm?"

She didn't lose the glare. She simply lifted her left arm to chest height. Most people would've missed the wince of pain that showed on her face. Pyrrha didn't, and neither did Harry.

He said, "Just keep the piece you already have on you, we should be gone before trouble finds us," and closed the trunk.

"Damn it Dresden, I hate it when you try to baby me like this."

Harry strode past her, "Come on, we're wasting daylight."

Pyrrha stood there awkwardly for a split second. Murphy looked at her with that venomous scowl… And Pyrrha decided to follow Harry. Obviously this was a rather hot topic for the couple, and Pyrrha would rather not get dragged into it.

Pyrrha managed to catch up to Harry right as he reached the edge of the alley. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at her. "Looks different in the day, doesn't it?"

It was true. Pyrrha had barely seen the alley when she woke up in it. Sure, she'd had an idea of what was in it, but there was so little light that the details were hard to make out. But even in the cloud covered light of Chicago, she could make out quite a few subtler details.

For one, the alley was curved towards the middle, leaving a shallow cavity in the asphalt that stretched from the far wall to the exit. Graffiti covered the walls, of course, and it was as soaked there as anywhere else. Pyrrha also noted that the stench had grown worse. Stealing that tarp for her makeshift dress had left the garbage exposed to the elements and it did not create a pleasant smell.

Yet even though it was the middle of the day, Pyrrha still very much remembered what had happened here. That feeling of helplessness, the terror and weakness she had felt were not pleasant memories.

Pyrrha shuddered and ducked her head, "Different, but still the same."

Harry noticed her reaction. "Want to stay out here instead? I can find what we need on my own."

"No, no, I'll be fine." Pyrrha said.

"Good, then let's go." Said Murphy. The short woman had caught up to them, and while the venom in her eyes had died down, her tone was definitely not a patient one.

Harry grunted, and they entered the alleyway. Harry went straight to the back of the alley, eyes to the ground and steps slow. Murphy moved her head from side to side, slowly, and said nothing. Pyrrha made sure to watch for puddles, and approached the spot she'd woken up in. It wasn't hard to find.

The ground had been stained a rusty orange from her injury, and the rain had not washed all of it away. In fact, Pyrrha could see a small trail of the substance leading all the way up to the dumpster, where it had pooled again. She shuddered at how close she'd come to bleeding out. If Harry and Butters hadn't come across her, well…

Pyrrha knelt by the first pool of blood and frowned. "Harry, I think I found something."

The big man appeared quickly and leaned over her. Pyrrha pointed to a perfect ring of marred asphalt. Something hot had appeared on it, scorching it to the point of melting. Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Something glimmering in the pale sunlight caught Pyrrha's eyes. She focused on it, and held back a gasp.

"What, what is it?" Harry asked, concern rising in his voice.

"Nothing that I think can help us," Pyrrha admitted, and reached for the object. "But it's something from home."

She showed it to Harry, and he raised a brow, "Is that… a tiara?"

Its bronze surface was soot stained, and covered in watermarks, but the leaf pattern and green gem was unharmed. Even the small chains were intact. Pyrrha smiled faintly and rubbed some of the soot off the bronze.

"It is. It was part of my armor back in Vale. I didn't think anything had come with me when I woke up here."

Being wrong felt nice, for once.

"I see," Harry said. He grunted and straightened up, "Well then, stand back for a minute Pyrrha. I've got a trick up my sleeve that should let me see if any supernatural tampering went on here."

She stood up and took a step back, "What kind of trick is that?"

"Complicated to explain," Harry said, "But in basic terms, it's a Sight that'll let me see things how they really are. If there were forces of magic at work here, I should be able to see it. I'd just prefer not having anything else get in the way."

"Oh!" Pyrrha took another step back, "I'm sorry. By all means, please!"

Harry smirked and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, his eyes had changed. His pupils had dilated until his irises were but a thin ring of brown around them. The effect was unnerving, and entrancing. Pyrrha quickly looked away, because she was sure if she hadn't, she'd never be able to.

"He doing the Sight thing?" Murphy asked. The woman was very good at appearing silently by someone's side.

Pyrrha nodded, "Does he do that often?"

"Every so often a case comes up with too few leads. That Sight of his has saved a few lives in the long run."

"Impressive," Pyrrha murmured.

Harry frowned as he stared rather intently at the melted asphalt. "This explains a lot, and raises so many more questions."

"What is it?" Murphy asked.

Before Harry could answer, the ground beneath their feet promptly exploded into a shower of gravel. Pyrrha and Murphy were knocked against the dumpster, and Harry crashed against the wall. Smoke filled the air, and a high pitched screech filled the air. Pyrrha's eyes shot opened, and she started struggling to her feet.

Several black shapes emerged from the smoke, each about the size of a large dog. They were Theropods, two legged creatures with torsos parallel with the ground. They had no arms, and large mashing maws filled with dagger like fangs. A hide of pebbly white bone covered their backs and legs, and their skulls were visible, and glistened with a red streaks.

Creeps, the most basic of Grimm. A few days ago, they'd hardly be a threat to Pyrrha. But now she had no weapons, no armor, and two other people without her skill or experience with the Grimm. Well, except for Harry, he seemed to have the power to handle a Grimm just fine.

The big wizard pulled himself up, using his staff to keep himself steady as he rose. Once he was on his feet, he glared at the Grimm through narrowed eyes. They shot open wide, and rolled into the back of his skull. Harry convulsed once, and fell flat on his back. He didn't move.

"Harry!" Murphy was back on her feet, a small semi-automatic pistol in her hands and focused on the Creeps. Her eyes were wide with shock, but if she was scared of the creatures hissing and snarling at her, she did an excellent job at hiding it.

Harry mumbled incoherently, and didn't move. Murphy cursed her luck. "These those Grimm he mentioned Ms. Nikos?"

No answer.

Murphy blinked and looked at where Pyrrha had been standing a moment ago. The young woman had simply vanished from sight, not a hair in sight.

"You bitch!"

She knew that the story Harry told her was just that, a story! All that talk about being some sort of Hunter or other such bullshit was a load of crap. She just fluttered her pretty eyes at Harry a few times, and he bought the story hook, line, and sinker. And now he and her were going to pay for it.

Murphy aimed down the sight of her pistol at the Grimm nearest to Harry. If she kept their attention off him at least, he might live long enough to get to his sense and run. Then he could teach Pyrrha a lesson for what she'd done.

"Sorry Dresden." Murphy murmured, and pulled the trigger.

"Excuse me!" Pyrrha's voice rang.

The Creeps swiveled towards the alley exit. Murphy mirrored them, and blinked in surprise. Pyrrha stood with one of the duffel bag's swung over her shoulder. That tiara she found had been wiped clean of soot and rested comfortably on her head. And in her hands, was a standard issue Remington 870 pump-action shotgun. She held it with the air of a woman who had spent most of her life at the range.

Pyrrha shouldered the gun and scowled at the Grimm, silently. The Creeps hissed and screeched at Pyrrha, but seemed almost reluctant to charge. Murphy stood there, flabbergasted, but never once let her sight on the creatures waver. It was a Mexican stand-off, monsters in one corner, humans in the other. All it would take was a single strike to light this powder keg.

Something Murphy was all too happy to do. She steadied her bead on the nearest Grimm, and hammered the trigger.

And all Hell broke loose.

A/N: An apology for being a few hours late. I wanted to have this chapter done by noon, but a healthy dose of writers block and the fact that this chapter wound up being twice as long as I'd planned kinda put the kibash on that. I'm happy and upset with how parts of this chapter turned out, but I'd like to hear from you all on what you think.

And come Tuesday, we'll see the first real action scene as Pyrrha shows the Dresdenverse exactly what she's capable of. We'll get some full on RWBY style action, followed by some Dresden style intrigue and grey morality. What does that imply? I'll never tell!

As an aside, thank you to those that have reviewed or followed/favorited in the past few days, it means a lot to get to this level guys, and we've almost hit 500 views! I don't normally get excited on these things, but its so cool seeing any feedback on a story that contains elements I'm really not used to. So please, leave your feedback, tell me what you liked and disliked, what I could improve on. Or, leave a question instead. I'll happily answer any questions you have in the next Author's Note.

Otherwise, Ta-ta for now!