Chapter 7

Pyrrha woke in a daze.

She was laying in the back of Thomas's hummer in the third row seat and felt very stiff. Voices could be heard in the background, but they were very dull and stuffy, like she was listening to them through a wall. It took her a moment to realize that was because her head was sandwiched between a pillow and the soft leather seats of the truck. She pushed the pillow off her head and sat up.

Almost immediately she regretted it when a pit promptly fell into her gut. Pyrrha covered her stomach and groaned. That got the attention of the others, and Murphy poked her head over the second row seat.

An amused smile spread over her face, "Sleeping beauty's awake Harry."

Pyrrha rubbed her eyes while someone, probably Harry or Thomas, laughed in the front seat. "Ugh, what happened?"

Murphy pointed down at the floor between their seats. Pyrrha followed her gaze and gasped. A dozen fastfood wrappers, all of them labelled 'Burger King' lay in piles on the floor with two empty drinks and barren boxes of fries. Her stomach made a noise of complaint, and Pyrrha blushed.

"Oh…now I remember."

Murphy laughed, "I can't say I've ever seen anyone dive into their food so fast before, but you definitely set a record. It was like you hadn't eaten in months."

After Harry got the information he needed, they'd stopped for food as neither he nor Pyrrha had had a chance to eat breakfast that morning. Pyrrha had been insistent that she would be fine, but the complaints died in that first round. Most of what happened after Harry handed her a burger was a blur. What Pyrrha did remember was that they had to turn back for her and pick up several more meals, which she promptly devoured with great gusto.

Upon finishing the last burger, she had simply shut down into a food coma. Apparently they'd continued on while she was asleep, as she recognized the neighborhood. They were parked by Thomas's apartment again, and the two men were trading insults again.

Still blushing, Pyrrha asked Murphy, "Did you manage to catch Roman while I was out?"

The short blonde woman shook her head, "No, Lara doesn't have his actual apartment, just an address. It's across the street, but that's all we know. Harry tried a tracking spell with that vial, but he couldn't get a decent read. It had been passed through too many hands or something."

"It was just some business material," Harry called back, "There wasn't enough of a bond for it to work. I never really expected it too, but you can never be too careful with these things."

That was a philosophy Pyrrha could get behind, but when she looked out the window, she saw the sky darkening with angry clouds. It seemed the eye of storm was passing, and a muted gray had colored the city. Anticipating the storm to come, most pedestrians had retreated to their homes, and only a few people still walked the sidewalks.

"How long was I asleep?" Pyrrha asked.

Murphy wiggled her hand side to side, "In and out for about three hours. We've been on stakeout, waiting for Mr. Torchwick to make an appearance. No luck so far, obviously."

"Three hours," Pyrrha rubbed at her head and removed her tiara for a moment and shook out her hair. Sleeping in it was a guarantee for painful headaches, and the sides of her skull were slowly pounding in protest. She ignored it and mulled over the fact that she'd fallen unconscious from eating for several hours. That was something that Nora might do, but Pyrrha had to be better than that, especially in a situation like this. Something like that wouldn't happen again if she could help it.

After letting her head rest for several minutes, Pyrrha slid the tiara back into place and tightened her ponytail. When she finished, Pyrrha noticed that Murphy was raising a brow.

"Yes?"

"Sorry," Murphy apologized first, then said, "I've been meaning to ask you, if you're supposed to be some sort of… super-warrior, then why the fancy headgear and super long hair? I cut mine short because it makes an easy hand hold otherwise."

The young woman tried not to feel self-conscious about her hair, "Oh, that. I simply never let my opponents near me. No Hunter would stay in place long enough for the Grimm to really grab hold of us, and if they did, then we have far more problems than handholds."

"Fair enough, but it seems like an unnecessary risk."

Pyrrha took a breath and her expression grew distant. "Perhaps. But anyone who chooses to become a Hunter and expects to come out of every fight unscathed is foolishly naïve. We have a dangerous job after all."

Her hand fell back on the bronze of her tiara and she smiled again, "Its best to take pleasure in the simple things."

Despite the calmness in her demeanor and the logic of what she said, to Pyrrha's surprise, all eyes had turned back to her. Murphy looked disgusted by what she said, Thomas was unreadable, and Harry, well… He just looked angry.

"What? What did I say?"

All Murphy did was ask her a question, and Pyrrha had answered it honestly. Sure it wasn't the most positive and uplifting thing to say, but Pyrrha was no fool when it came to her profession. While she maintained an upbeat attitude and enjoyed being a huntress, she knew for a fact that at the end of the day, it was a very dangerous job. Not everyone always made it home in one piece.

Thomas was the first to look forward again. He immediately said, "Well shit, that's great timing."

Attention switched from Pyrrha to across the street. A red haired man in a white suit was casually strolling down the street. He'd traded his cane for an umbrella in anticipation for the possible rain, and wore that same black bowler hat. A black briefcase was in his other hand, and he had a neat spring in his step.

Roman Torchwick had arrived.

The gang piled out of the hummer and ran down the street. They crossed at the intersection ahead of their target, and made a beeline for him. As they walked, Harry glanced at Pyrrha. "Get behind us kid. If he recognizes you, he might bolt before we can ask any questions."

Pyrrha did as she was asked, and was surprised when Harry waved a hand at her and muttered, "Obscurata."

It was like someone had pulled a cloth bag over her head. She could still see well enough to navigate on her own, but there was no sharp contrast to the world, everything looked fuzzy and imprecise, like she suddenly needed glasses.

"What in the world?"

"A veil," Harry explained, "It should blur you enough that Roman won't take note of you."

She could understand that. Roman was from her world, and Pyrrha, much as she hated to talk about it, was a bit of a celebrity. While she doubted he'd know her personally, he might recognize her from the publicity, and given his history with Beacon Academy students, that would be grounds enough for him to make a break for it.

Pyrrha looked past Harry down the sidewalk. Torchwick and a few other equally overdressed individuals were walking along the sidewalk, though he seemed alone. She looked back at Harry and asked, "What if he does run?"

"Then we chase him down," Harry said.

In the short time she had known him, Pyrrha was already growing an… well, not an admiration, but a respect for Harry's capacity to simplify things to the point of ridiculousness. Truly he was a warrior of wit.

"Harry, here he comes," Murphy warned.

Sure enough, Torchwick was almost within earshot of their group. Pyrrha shrank back further, hoping that combined with the veil Harry had cast would make her almost unnoticeable to Torchwick.

Harry raised an arm and called out, "Sir! A moment of your time."

Torchwick was in the midst of turning towards the entrance of an apartment complex, but paused at Harry's voice. He turned back to their group and raised a brow at their gaggle of misfits. Thomas was smart enough to break off to the nearest wall and looked uninterested in what was going on. Pyrrha decided to imitate him, though she had difficulty pulling off the uninterested look.

Luckily, their target was far more focused on Harry. Torchwick was actually surprisingly tall, nearly six and a half feet high. Even so, he had to tilt his head back a little when Harry approached him. An amused grin spread on his face.

"My my, aren't you the tall one. And what can I do for you exactly?"

Harry came to a stop, his staff clacking with finality, "My name is Harry Dresden, I'm a Private Investigator for Chicago PD, this is Karrin Murphy, she's my assistant. We're investigating recent attacks in clubs across Chicago, and you were last seen at one of said clubs."

Torchwick tapped his umbrellas plastic tip against the sidewalk, in clear irritation. Despite that, his face remained the picture of calm, "Is that so? I must say, that's quite the accusation, Mr. Dresden. Do you have any evidence to support these claims?"

"Not accusing you of anything, sir," Harry clarified, "Just trying to get some questions answered. If you can cooperate, this'll go by a lot faster for everyone."

For a moment, the stylish villain rubbed his chin in thought. He eyed Harry, then Karrin, then glanced past them at Thomas and Pyrrha. His eyes slid off her and the veil around her, and rolled back around to Harry. Pyrrha felt some of the tension leave her shoulders, and let her eyes start drifting, occasionally across the street and occasionally at Thomas.

Torchwick sighed and held up his hands, "I'm a busy man, Mr. Dresden, how long will these questions take?"

"Five, ten minutes tops."

"I see, I see. Well I might…"

His eyes shot back to Pyrrha, and for the briefest seconds, their made eye contact. Nothing physically happened, but she felt a faint tingling in the air and clearly saw Roman, a sharp contrast to the world of fuzz around her. The veil slipped away under his gaze, and recognition flashed across his face.

And then, he was gone in a flash of white.

Harry cursed, "Shit, we've got a runner! Thomas-"

A blur of white and a blur of red passed Harry on either side. Thomas was already on the move, tailing Torchwick. But to his surprise, Pyrrha was keeping pace with the vampire. Thomas had the lead for now, but Pyrrha was quickly gaining on him. That was next to impossible, a White Court Vampire moving at full speed could outrun just about any vanilla mortal. Then again, Pyrrha had made it clear she was as far from normal as it got.

Murphy grabbed Harry's arm, "Come on Dresden, stop gawking!"

"R-right!" and the two chased after Thomas and Pyrrha.

Pyrrha cursed her luck. Torchwick had noticed the veil, obviously, and recognized her. Now he had a lead on both of them, and she was stuck with the stupid veil obscuring her vision. She could see where she was going, but her depth perception was screwed, and Torchwick's crisp white suit almost melted into the grey urban landscape. His pumpkin orange hair though, was a flare to her senses.

Pouring everything she had into her run, Pyrrha blazed after Roman Torchwick with a speed that surprised even her. As a huntress, she was certainly faster than most people, and Pyrrha had built her fighting style on speed and strength. Yet in a flat sprint she knew she was normally slower, or at the very least, oriented to endurance sprinting. Something was very wrong with her body.

There was no time to think on it though. Torchwick ducked into the nearest with a sudden turn, and vanished. Pyrrha didn't have time to slow down, so she jumped. Years of physical training had turned her body into a machine of flesh and blood. The ground vanished from beneath her, and she sailed in a perfect arc ten or fifteen feet through the air. Her jump had been angled, and her feet met the wall of the building. Coiled like springs, she quickly sprung off the wall into the alley where Torchwicks fuzzy white outline was far more apparent.

She rolled across the floor, sprang back to her feet, and lunged for Torchwick in a full body tackle. Maybe he'd heard her coming, maybe he'd planned on it, or maybe her vision was worse than she'd expected, but she missed him by inches, his leather coat brushing against her fingers.

Then she hit the floor flat on her stomach and skid across the ground until she hit something hard, probably a wall. Torchwicks biting laughter just poured more salt into the wound, and prompted Pyrrha to start pushing herself up.

"My, my, Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl from Sanctum Academy." He chuckled, "I have to say, the cameras were far more flattering than you'd expect, you seem to be lacking in…definition."

Pyrrha got to her feet and turned to Torchwicks voice. Something hard hit her across the face, and her vision exploded into stars. She fell back to the ground, and struggled to push herself back up. There was a boom of thunder, and Torchwick hit her again across the back of her neck. Pyrrha let out a strangled gasp, and fell back to the floor.

"Not so invincible now, are you-GAH!"

Something slammed Torchwick into the nearest wall. When Pyrrha started getting back up, she saw that it was Thomas, who had caught up to her and pinned Torchwick to the wall by his throat. Roman obviously found issue with that.

There was a flash of black and Thomas let out a high pitched scream. Roman fell back to the floor, free, and back handed Thomas across the alleyway. The vampire crashed into bags of trash and started reflexively curling into a fetal position. Roman ignored him, dusted off his coat, and picked his umbrella and briefcase off the floor.

He looked at Thomas for a moment, then at Pyrrha struggling to her feet. One more glance down the alley showed Murphy and Harry about to join the fray. Roman sighed, opened the briefcase, and pulled a bright red crystal from it.

Pyrrha went rigid, and looked back at Harry, to warn him and Murphy to get down. Roman beat her to the punch.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid I have no time for questions!" he tossed the crystal into the air with an underhanded throw, and pulled an oversized pistol from his coat.

"Harry, get down!" Pyrrha warned.

Roman fired and an explosion blossomed in the middle of the alley. Force slammed Pyrrha back against the wall and flattened her. Smoke quickly filled the backstreet, blinding everyone.

Pyrrha slowly pealed herself off the wall and staggered forward. The acrid smoke burned her lungs, and she pulled her sweater up for some modicum of protection. The world was eerily silent, save for the ringing in her ears. The explosion must've blown her eardrums. Her aura would heal it in a few moments, but she was blind until then. Pyrrha slowly ambled through the smoke to where she had last seen Harry and Murphy, desperately hoping she'd find them unharmed.

Relief flooded through her when she saw three shapes in the smoke. Harry and Murphy were propping Thomas back up against the wall. The vampire didn't look badly hurt, just stunned from his proximity to the explosion. Harry and Murphy were unharmed, probably protected by his shield bracelet.

Pyrrha grabbed Murphy's shoulder. The blonde woman looked up at her and even through the veil, her concern was obvious, "Pyrrha? Christ, you're alive."

Murphy's voice came out dull and toneless, but Pyrrha could hear it. She was recovering already. She gave a curt nod and looked at Thomas, "How is he?"

"Stunned, but I think he'll live," Murphy said.

Pyrrha nodded again, "Okay. I'll be back with Torchwick."

"Wait, what!?"

Murphy stopped Pyrrha before she got farther than a few feet, and grabbed her by the wrist. "Pyrrha, what do you think you're doing?"

"Ms. Murphy," Pyrrha said softly, "I mean no offense, but none of you know how to handle someone with access to their Aura. Not yet. I know what I'm doing, and the longer we waste time arguing, the farther away he gets. I'm faster than any of you, so I'll catch him quickest. He's one of the few real leads we have. So please, help your friend first."

Perhaps what she said got through to Murphy, perhaps the way she said it was what convinced her. In the end, it ultimately wasn't important. Murphy released Pyrrha's wrist, and let the girl run off down the alley, leaving her and Harry to tend to Thomas.

It took less than a minute for Pyrrha to realize that she had no idea where the heck Torchwick had run off to. The backalley had been a straight path that cut to the right where it ended in a two way path, one way leading out onto the streets and the other going farther into the maze. Piles of garbage blocked the way out onto the street, and remained undisturbed, so Pyrrha doubted that Torchwick had gone that way. So she went left and found herself stumped.

She followed the alley all the way to another junction between two paths. Both would split into more junctions, and it was impossible to tell where each would lead. Torchwick had run into a maze of alley's, and Pyrrha had no idea where to even start looking for him.

So she stood in the center of the junction and looked left, right, then left again. She took in her surroundings, hoping to find some sort of clue and found nothing. All she saw was trash everywhere, this city really was filthy. Some of it had even been stacked into a broad square structure that almost resembled a house.

Pyrrha narrowed her eyes. No, it didn't resemble a house, it was a house. Well, hut would be more appropriate. A dozen cardboard boxes had been unfolded and arranged into a makeshift hut, covered in garbage bags as a homemade tarp to protect from the rain, with limited success. One wall had nearly collapsed in on itself, and the other didn't look much better.

"It's not polite to stare," a nasally voice crowed.

Pyrrha jumped in surprise, and the voice laughed, "To your left child."

She followed the voices instructions and looked to her left. An old woman, her age undefinable, hobbled next to Pyrrha and smirked up at her. Years in the sun had aged her face into a wrinkled mass, and her nose was unnaturally long. She had long white hair tied into a braid that poked out from her ruined hood. The clothes she wore were a shambled collection of old raincoats and jeans that looked very impractical. She walked with a limp, but had no cane to speak of, and her beady blue eyes looked at Pyrrha with a measure of irritation.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Pyrrha apologized.

The old woman seemed to take stock of Pyrrha, like she was measuring the girl. It was unsettling, and Pyrrha had to resist the urge to cover herself. After a subjective eternity of that, the old woman dismissively waved her off with a 'Bah!' of irritation. Then she hobbled forward and planted herself at the huts door.

Without looking at Pyrrha she said, "I do not appreciate strangers on my property, child. What is your name?"

Pyrrha blinked. Was this woman serious? Better yet, was Pyrrha seriously wasting time gawking at a homeless woman?

"Sorry ma'am, but I should probably-"

Lightning crackled overhead and thunder boomed. As if that was the cue it was waiting for, the clouds overhead dropped a blanket of rain onto Chicago. And Pyrrha.

She was soaked thoroughly in an instant, and her hair flattened against her. She brushed it out of her eyes and sighed. The old woman chuckled, "You are not favored today, are you?"

"Lately, it feels as though I have none at all," Pyrrha admitted.

She glanced at the old crone, and said, "My name is Pyrrha Nikos ma'am. I'm sorry for intruding on your property."

The old woman grinned, exposing surprisingly healthy teeth, "There, now was that so hard? A simple bit of politeness can go a long way, young lady."

Oh how right she was. Pyrrha bowed her head, "Indeed. But I really am in a rush ma'am, so I must be going."

The rain began to pour harder, and Pyrrha's first step splashed water everywhere. The old woman laughed again, "Yes, yes, after the young man in the white suit. If you want to find him, you're going the wrong way."

Pyrrha whirled back to the old woman, eyes wide, "Wait, you know where he is!?"

"Yes, of course child! He too ran through my property, though he was far more rude about it." She closed one eye and peered at Pyrrha, "Is he a friend of yours?"

"No, not really." Pyrrha admitted.

"Ah, good. Then if you wish to find him, you will not find him going left or right."

Suspicion crept into Pyrrha's voice, "Then where will I find him?"

The old woman gently patted at the damaged wall of her hut, "Why, straight ahead of course. Are those pretty eyes of yours blind to the world girl?"

Pyrrha clenched her eyes tight and sighed, "No, not at all, it's just…"

When she opened them, the world around her suddenly seemed to pop into focus. She could see the rain for what it was, the crones discolored skin and icy blue eyes, and the edges of every object littering the alley. Her veil was gone, and she could see again.

"Ah, there we go." The old woman crooned. "Now you see, don't you child?"

Pyrrha stared at her, but peered past her hut and saw… Another back alley, one that was admittedly smaller and hidden by her makeshift home. With the veil in place, she never would've seen it before, but even under the pounding rain, she could see it far clearer than ever before.

When she looked back down, the old woman almost looked smug. Pyrrha bowed her head again, "May I please pass then miss?"

"Why of course!" the old woman said, "A girl as polite as yourself may pass!"

"Thank you."

Pyrrha walked to the lowest mound of junk she could find and was about to jump it, when the old woman grabbed her wrist. She almost flung the crone down the alley, but managed to stop herself at the last second, and only look at the woman with mild annoyance. If she saw it, the woman gave no sign.

Instead, she shoved a faded orange backpack into Pyrrha's arms and said, "You dropped this earlier Miss Nikos. I figured I'd give it back soon enough."

Pyrrha raised a brow, and glanced at the old thing. She definitely had not dropped it, but she'd spent enough time feigning politeness. So, instead of questioning it, she slung it over her shoulder and said, "Thank you ma'am. I appreciate the gesture."

"Ah, any time, any time," the crone said, flippantly.

And with that, Pyrrha leaped the makeshift wall and continued her pursuit of Roman. She didn't have to go very far to find him. One turn and she found the criminal cornered in a total dead end. It looked like it had once been a back exit for the complex, but age and future projects had led to its abandonment.

Old trash and abandoned stacks of wooden pallets were all that decorated the square. The rest was nearly smooth wall, that Torchwick was debating how to scale. He could possibly make the leap required, but the building was several stories high. It would require several jumps to reach the top, and his hands were full. His desire to avoid getting wet left him with a briefcase in one hand, and an open black umbrella in the other.

"Let's toss you up first," he said to his briefcase, and gave it an underhanded toss towards the roof.

Pyrrha took her chance and reached out with her semblance. The briefcase was lined with steel to protect the merchandise within. She metaphorical wrapped a fist around the case, and jerked it back towards her with barely a thought. It soared up into the air, then promptly arced backwards where it landed at her feet in a splash of water.

Torchwick watched it land at her feet, and his shoulders slumped, "Well, that's just great. You've got moxy kid, I'll give you that."

Without taking her eyes off Torchwick, Pyrrha kicked the briefcase behind her down the alley. Best to even the odds the best she could. Torchwick frowned at the motion, and took a step forward, "Now, that was a bit harsh Ponytail. What did I ever do to you?"

"You tried unleashing a horde of Grimm on my home," Pyrrha replied.

"I meant recently."

Pyrrha scowled, "That was less than a week ago."

That made Torchwick pause, "A week… Ooh, now that is interesting."

He began to pace, "Tell me, Ponytail, what's the last thing you remember? The tournament games I assume?"

Pyrrha wasn't sure what he was getting at, but decided to play along. If Torchwick wanted to monologue, then she would use that to buy time for Harry and Murphy to catch up. Three on one were significantly better odds.

"I remember the qualifying matches with my team, yes, and the quarter-finals." Pyrrha confirmed.

Torchwick smirked, "And then…what? Nothing else?"

Pyrrha didn't answer. The smirk grew wider and Torchwick twirled his umbrella, "Silent act then? Well let me make some guesses. You woke up in the middle of an alley, naked as the day you were born, no idea how you got there, and possibly with a Grimm or two on your trail. Is that about right?"

Her silence was enough of an answer for him. Roman's smirk grew into a grin and he laughed, "And if I had to guess from how utterly trashed you look and your complete lack of a weapon, this was recent, wasn't it? Well let me tell you a little secret Ponytail. It's been four months since I was last in Remnant."

He might as well have hit her in the gut, the effect was still the same. Pyrrha lost her breath and the world began to dance. Four months, that couldn't be right. She could by a few weeks like Lara had said, but four months? Had she been gone for four months? How many memories had she lost in that time?

Roman laughed again, "Oh, didn't see that coming did you? Well to be frank, I saw all your fights Ponytail, so I'm not surprised. You might be the Invincible Girl, but you sure can't handle stress. Or deal with murder either. Guess Penny learned that the hard way, didn't she?"

Those last words were like a bolt of lightning. Her skull erupted in fireworks again and Pyrrha fell to her knees, grasping desperately at her skull. The agonizing pain burrowed into her temples and started tearing at her mind. The world was a kaleidoscope of bright flashing pain, so much pain. The world began to tilt forward, and fire erupted across the back of her scalp. No, not fire, Roman had kicked the back of her head. And she was lying on the ground now.

She heard footsteps, not Romans, other footsteps, and heard a voice, also not Romans. At least, she thought it wasn't his. Everything hurt, everything was confusing.

"Pyrrha!? What did you do to her!?"

That was Murphy. That had to be Murphy.

Someone, Roman, grabbed her ponytail and pulled Pyrrha up to her knees. Her eyes drifted for a moment, until they settled on the figures standing a fair distance away. She recognized them. It was Harry and his friends, Murphy and Thomas!

Murphy had her pistol drawn and focused on Roman, Harry's staff was smoldering, and Thomas was glaring daggers at Roman. Pyrrha couldn't help but wonder why…

Something dropped to the floor, and water started splashing her face again. Roman had dropped his umbrella, why? Her ponytail started hurting again, and she heard something click. Oh, that was why. Roman was still holding her by her ponytail, and had pulled out his big gun.

"Now let's not do anything hasty people," Roman warned, "After all, I'd hate for things to get messy."

"Let her go, Torchwick," Harry ordered through clenched teeth, "We just wanted to talk."

"Hmm," Torchwick hummed, "I'm going to have to say no. You really need to work on your people skills Mr. Dresden."

They bickered like that, exchanging insults and threats. Pyrrha felt her mind steadily grow clearer as they did though. The drill in her skull had subsided and her memories boiled indignantly beneath a cloud of self-control. Pyrrha focused her thoughts on the situation at hand, and peered through the rain.

Harry was negotiating with Roman to free her obviously, and the criminal had a gun to her skull. Thomas and Murphy had slowly spread out to try and flank him, but Roman had caught the movement and tightened his grip on her. So that was a no-go.

Her eyes darted to the floor where the briefcase lay. It was big, heavy, and made of steel. She could possibly use it to catch Roman off guard and even the field again, keep him from opening that big stupid mouth of his.

Something else caught her eye, a big orange something.

The backpack the woman had given her lay on the ground where Pyrrha had initially lost control of herself again. It must have somehow fallen off when she collapsed, and Roman hadn't given a damn about it. The old seems along its edges had torn from the impact somehow.

No, they hadn't torn, they'd been cut. By a bronze disc big as a car's hubcap. Her throat went dry, and Pyrrha extended her Semblance to the backpack. Her control over polarity acted as a metaphysical sixth sense. If she used it, she could feel the metal around her, and when she passed her senses over the backpack, she felt two familiar old shapes.

She didn't know how or why the backpack held them, but Pyrrha felt tears of joy all the same. Her Semblance seized hold of the backpack, and tightened like a spring. Tension built and rose until the bag began to shake. Her eyes flicked up to Torchwick, who was now as soaked as everyone else, and she released the spring.

The bag exploded, and a bronze shield flew through the air where it smashed against Romans face. The man yelped, released Pyrrha's hair, and she sprang into action. She grabbed the shield from the air and slammed it into his face again, before jumping backwards and scooping the second item off the ground. A scarlet short sword as long as her forearm, highlighted with bronze.

Miló and Akoúo̱, her personal weapons from Remnant. The worn leather grip was a comfort in her hand, and for the first time since she arrived in Chicago, Pyrrha felt complete.

Roman staggered back and fired his pistol without aiming. Pyrrha rolled left, and lunged. She struck three times, once across his firing arm, once across his midsection, and once across the inside of his leg. His aura flickered from the blows, but did not give.

Pyrrha used the slickness of the wet concrete to continue sliding past him, and twisted back around to face him. By now, Roman regained some control of himself and shook his arm, glaring at her with his acid green eyes.

"Oh, so now you're up for an actual fight?"

Her response was to flick the switch on Miló. The entire blade shifted and squealed in response, its hilt and blade transforming into that of a javelin. Pyrrha spun the weapon with expert precision, and attacked.

Roman deflected her strikes with the top of his pistol, once, twice, three times. Pyrrha swung her leg out, and he jumped back and lashed out with his own. Pyrrha's shield took the blow, and she jabbed at him with Miló once again. The blow missed, but tore the collar of his suit.

"Gah! I just got this suit you stupid bra-Eep!"

She never gave him time to finish. Pyrrha twisted on her heel and smacked the hilt of her spear against his jaw. Roman spun through the air and barely managed to land on his feet. He fell to one knee, and sagged in place.

Pyrrha gave him no chance to recover. She returned Miló to its sword form and sprinted forward. To anyone looking, all they'd see was a blur of red and gold slash through the air past Roman four times. On the fourth, Pyrrha slid across the ground and knocked Roman into the air. One more transformation saw Miló take the form of a hunting rifle.

Still on her back, Pyrrha used her leg as a steadying fire, and unleashed a barrage of Dust rounds on the criminal. Each was like the crack of a whip and propelled him farther and farther into the air. When Pyrrha finally emptied the clip, Roman hung in the air for a split second…

And promptly fell back to earth. Pyrrha flipped back onto her feet and delivered a roundhouse kick to his back as he fell. Roman let out an agonized yell and went flying through the air and face planted into the farthest wall. Concrete shattered, leaving a neat little imprint in the wall where he lay. It cracked once, and Roman promptly fell out of the wall and onto the floor, unconscious.

Pyrrha smiled, lowered her leg, and slung Akoúo̱ over her shoulder, and attached Miló to it via her polarity. Then she looked over at her friends, and tried not to laugh.

Murphy was the only one of the three who did not look stunned. She had holstered her gun and had her arms crossed, but there was an impressed look in her eyes. Harry and Thomas on the other hand…

Well, Harry's jaw might as well have been on the floor, and Thomas kept looking back from Pyrrha to Roman, to the Roman shaped outline in the wall. Obviously, they had not expected her to be capable of… Well, that.

Pyrrha couldn't help it, she let out a quiet laugh, "Well then, I'm happy to see you are all okay now."

Harry and Thomas didn't say or do anything. Murphy rolled her eyes and walked forward. She gave Pyrrha a thumbs up and crouched next to Roman, placing her fingers on his neck.

"He's alive, we should probably get him out of here. Someone will have heard all of that, we don't need the cops getting involved, right Harry?"

The wizard finally picked his jaw off the floor, and nodded, "Um, y-yeah. Definitely. We should go. Like, now."

Pyrrha could agree with that sentiment. She walked over to Murphy and helped the woman lift Roman. Murphy winced at the required movement, and Harry quickly moved to help her take it. Murphy made a show of glaring at him, but her eyes showed she was grateful for the assistance, and let Harry take up his side.

They left the dead end as it was, covered in soot and tiny craters, and a stylish cartoon imprint in one wall. They had spent far too much time trying to catch Roman, now it was time to see what the criminal knew.

A/N: Another late chapter with yet another legitimate excuse. Yard work and drama took over once again. I had planned on trying to post this chapter last night actually, but it kinda grew larger than I intended, obviously.

And, before people get worried, there is very much a reason why Pyrrha regained her old weapons, and why Pyrrha was able to easily handle Roman once she got them. I'll explain the latter only though.

Roman does not have his old weapons on him, and was not prepared for full combat today. If he had his new Dresdenverse weapons, he'd have likely put up a better fight. That said, friggen Blake was able to handle him with some Dust helping her out, so while Roman is a competent combatant, he certainly isn't infallible. And lets face it, Pyrrha was a MUCH better fighter than pretty much any of the main cast of RWBY was. That said, should Pyrrha and Roman fight again, it won't be nearly so one sided, I promise.

Now, onto questions from the previous chapter!

Parks98 asks: When will the bigger and more mature Grimm come through, because so far its just been grunts.

Well, that will be around the climax I imagine. It wouldn't be all that fun if I just started throwing Griffins and Goliaths at our heroes yet, give it time. Plus, I have some custom Grimm that'll fit the more... crazy-awesome aspects of the Dresdenverse. Oh, and if a Grimm seems to be taken down rather easily, assume that its a young one, like when the shotgun (Which, fyi, has FAR more kick than a hunting rifle) was able to easily handle the Grimm, they were just young ones for the most part.

Next question! Cowslayer has several, but I answered one just now, and as for his other one, he wants to know if Penny will appear in this story.

Not this one, but possibly in the sequel. But I've said enough.

That's the only questions this time around, but don't be afraid to ask guys, I will happily answer any and all questions. Now before I go though, I have one minor announcement. In celebration of breaking fifty reviews, and over 4,500 views on this story, I plan on releasing a special chapter that is specifically non-canon. It has no bearing on the story as a whole, will not be reference, and exists only for shits and giggles. Its essentially RWBY Chibi in text form. I don't know when I'll release this chapter, as ideas for it are rather slim at the moment. So if there's anything ridiculous you'd like to see that you know wouldn't fit in the story, feel free to leave a comment in your review! I'm always open to hearing new ideas!

Welp, that's all for now folks, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Ta-ta for now!