I'm back again, the rewrite will begin.

I forgot the email *and* password for tuckerson...

01. Live, again.

The stucco walls of this city were completely pale and sparkling. Someone had the job of scrubbing every bump on these walls till the grass below was stained black. The worst part was the fact that the walls looked like the inside of a loaf. The Drifter felt as though he could tear it down with his bare hands, it was completely worthless as a wall.

Perhaps that was a sign that the city - Vale - was a safe place. That seemingly no one would attack it led to it being so lax with security.

Almost like Central Town…

But Central Town was isolated by all the chasms and the monsters who gawked at the wall would rather infight over scraps, and the Dirks never could jump far enough anyway. He wasn't so sure about the creatures of the night he had to cut his way through to get here. Almost every animal you could think of, soaked in black and red and primed to kill anything on sight with absolute recklessness. He had many confrontations with them, and whenever he tried to sneak around they always would find him, and running away simply pulled more of the beasts on his trail. So the battles would start anywhere: in the grasslands, on the hillsides, in the middle of a village diner.

One time he was injured while defending a farm, the people there wanted him to stay. They offered him gifts and tried to shower him with food…

Maybe he should've stayed there. Its not like he'll be fighting for his life, the coughing fits had stopped completely. His mind felt more clearer, his lungs no longer burned with a metallic aftertaste, his body felt lighter, and his stomach growled while waiting in line.

Not that anyone cared. The people around him seemed to be awfully tense, fidgeting and looking around like owls. Was the process that strict? It can't be that bad, the guards at the gate were lightly armoured, with just a simple Green gambeson and a flimsy plastic bolt rifle with no bayonet. One of the guards mechanically waved groups of people into the entrance, watched them enter and called for the next group. Eventually came his turn. And the guard watched him while another one waved him to a counter.

"Are you here to visit?"

'Yes.' He bobbed his head.

"Do you have any weapons?"

The hilt of his sword quickly rested on the table. The guards confused stare made him take it back and with a flick of his wrist activate it. The blue blade pointed upwards as its stunning brightness never bled out into the world. It remained rigid as the guards looked it. Almost as quickly the blade quickly dissipated, leaving the guards to stare at him with muddled emotions.

"OK…" He started scratching his stubble, looking upwards to find the next words. "Well, your gonna have to not use that thing out there, OK? We'll be watching you…" He trailed off, unable to read The Drifter's half shrouded face.

"Just go." He eventually settled on that and without any hesitation The Drifter took his first steps into Vale.

The city was spacious and tall. Taller than the spongy walls made him believe. There were these – holographic signs – that he could touch, and they would spew coloured lights, changing at set intervals, he had counted. Many of the buildings reminded him of the number of cottages he would find cordoned off in a forest with a small lake. It was almost cultist in how every inhabitant would act the same when they met him…

Sometimes there would a large two storied building made of concrete with colourful bars painted in many angles, with massive signs that would change their picture with just a twist. There were a lot of people as well, and through the neutral crowds he could only count a few number of people with faint smiles on their faces. One of them gesticulated wildly, pulling someone else along. Breaking through the crowds.

In the distance to his right there stood massive grey and black towers that were seemingly taller that the wall, even though he could not spot them as he approached.

Kinda like before…

But this wasn't before, this is a new world. A fresh oyster for him. A pouch full of colourful cards, money apparently. Maybe he'll be able to sleep somewhere nicer. The streets were bright grey with massive gaps in-between some buildings, where colourful vehicles would propel themselves, stopping only to let people cross to the other side. There were banners and large boards showing odd tools and items with people smiling, asking If you need "insurance" or faster deliveries.

Speaking of the people, he felt numerous eyes focusing on him. Perhaps it was his clothes? Maybe it was his skin? Everyone else seemed to have shades of rosy-white or deep brown and everything in-between, and his skin was blue…

Maybe its the hat, none of their hats glow...

More walking was the answer to this dilemma, as it helped take his mind off the looks he got. He pushed himself to experience the sights and sounds of the city, he found himself in a street who's litany of shops sold nothing but clothes. Black and white blouses with splashes of vibrant colour was the theme of one store front. In another they sold thick black leather jackets with fur collars. Another store had leather jackets but with longer sleeves and a taller collar. Down one random street he found massage parlours and hair salons sandwiching a supermarket.

Wait, a Supermarket?

The entryway had big red posters on it with what looked like numbers claiming things such as '30% off'. Percentage… was that something he remembered? If it meant that things were cheaper…

The interior of the supermarket was awfully tall, and the roof was full of rugged metal tubes and boxes with fans in them. The floor was like a slippery mirror and he could see underneath the aisles, which were packed into the centre of the store. Around the edges were containers with condensation pouring out from them, which seemed to pump freezing air onto the produce, and into the store. He wrapped himself into his cloak as tight as possible and followed as the people ran a circuit around the store. From cold meats to cheese and butter, to vegetables and fruits. Still somehow fresh.

The people here are well fed… surely someone would want this stuff for themselves?

It made no sense that this land was not contested or torn apart by greed. Perhaps the other cities had plenty? Then why were there so many villages? It couldn't be a class issue if he was allowed in. Why did The Emperor destroy the city he took? Wait, he was getting to deep into the past, there's no need to worry about it. He can only go up from here. Down one aisle they sold flour, sugar and spices, another sold bars and liquid soap, and down a different aisle they sold candies, biscuits and soda.

...'Soda'… 'So-Dah'… 'Soo-Dah'...

The canister was a bright crimson, with white bubbles surrounding its name, 'That Fizz'. The container claimed that it was "lemon and lime" flavoured. Which sounded sour. But it was only 10 "Lien", and he had… a lot, he wasn't sure the exact amount. Waiting in the queues was faster than it looked, When it was his turn he had dumped all the Lien from his pouch and let the worker deal with the rest.

There were 30 red cards, 20 blue cars, 22 greens and 5 yellows in the pile, and 10 Lien was equal to one blue card. The Drifter could feel the bemused stares from the adjacent lines. Meanwhile he was sure that the one behind him was cracking their knuckles.

Speeding back outside he felt the warm autumn air thaw his skin and his fingers that were once stiff around the canister were warm enough to make errant twitches. The canisters was a lot like the ones they used for the tennis balls, only smaller.

Not as dangerous I hope…

Lifting the tab didn't cause the entire top to fly off, but instead a small hole was pushed into existence. The mixture hissed and fizzed and his nose burned at the lack of smell, Tentatively he took a small sip -

!

Bubbles began stabbing into his tongue. His throat cracked under the assault. The can was now at a right angle. Something was crawling up his nose, its legs tickled the back of his sinus. And as quickly as it entered it had burst out, the soda was burning his nose and lines of drool hung off his face. He was bent down, furiously rubbing his nose like a cat. In retrospect, lemons and limes were by themselves painful to eat. So a combination was...

Whatever thoughts he had at the time were forced out by the raw energy foaming out from the concoction. He could feel the stares of those around him, was it that surprising? It seemed that people really liked it from how cheaply they were giving it away… Or did you sell things cheaper because no one wanted it? The moment he straightened himself out the stares had dissipated, although it was still obvious who was watching, the children who were tugged along quickly.

After that little mishap The Drifter continued to wander around the city, there were so many storefronts selling luxury items like they were novelty toys. The actual novelty toy stores had been shut down and their hollowed dark interiors driving him to want to explore inside, but he had pushed those thoughts aside as he saw what appeared to be lower ranked guardsmen in blue shirts eyeing him warily.

Right next to one there was a derelict store selling masks that had a massive "SEIZED" sign wrapped around the broken glass door.

Further on ahead was the ocean, and to his left there rested these massive metallic ships seated on land. There were people pushing and pulling crates out of one ship and into another. Down the smooth-stone pathway alongside the harbour the stench of sea salt occasionally broke through, muting the faint smell of foul incense. The pathway itself was completely unstained, without any bags of garbage or errant glass piercing his boots. This place was awfully clean and idyllic, and yet...

Everyone was on edge right..?

That single thought had made him sit on the nearest...bench? It was more like a block of concrete with rebar bends - No wait, The guards looked at him funny, and one of them seemed even more scared when he had presented his sword. The people in line, they turned away when he came to look at them. And while he was in the clothes district people there looked and, if those phantom pokes were any indication, they were pointing and talking about him… Maybe the looks he was getting were from his skin rather than his outfit.

Maybe people like him were vilified? Not the first time that had happened, not without reason.

Although, the past is the past, we should be trying to make peace with it…

Is anyone like me here?

By now it was almost dusk and the ships were still being unloaded, taking their precious time. There were people now, arm in arm trudging hunched over. He watched the people walk back in the direction he was in, but there was something odd.

Over in the distance, he could see, a halo? No it was a diamond, a black dog…

Then it hit him, in his lungs. That burning sensation as he felt blood pooling into his lungs was back. Every time he coughed out a clot three more had formed in his throat. The soda was dropped as he leaned over the bench spewing out more blood. The dog stood staring, following his eyes. Unflinching, uncaring as people cried around him, some were covering others eyes, and some just fled.

No one dared to move. Through the blurry vision and ear-splitting migraine He could see some of those still standing were pointing rectangles at him. There was some babbling into the rectangles and others running away from the scene, but they found it hard to comprehend, as soon enough he reached his limit.

He didn't know if he had woken up or if this was all just a dream. When he tried to pry his eyes open the surroundings were painfully bright. There was this hum that permeated through his body accompanied by a repetitive beeping, it pressed him down. He tried to move, raise a finger, or even shudder in place, but he couldn't. He couldn't even pry his eyes open again. All he could remember was that the room had a blue band wrapping around it, and the ceiling was tiled.

He was certain he was awake. He must be! fate didn't just punch him in the throat after giving them the only thing he wanted! fate isn't standing next to him mockingly-

Someone was standing next to him.

He felt a chill run along his side. The hum became sharper, he could smell acrid bile permeate the room. Someone was close to him, he could feel a hand raised over him. The incessant beeping quickened, and he felt the hand rise a little higher.

Hal…? Please ...

He could feel his mind slipping away, his throat was full and he couldn't swallow. The presence had lowered his hand now, but the beeping remained. How long has it been? Not long, not long. He kept telling himself that, that it will be over soon. Whatever happens next however, he didn't know…

All he could do was wait in the dark.

"Did you just come all the way here to see if the man's skin was blue?"

"It looked more yellow-ish in the picture."

"They going to want you quarantined as well sir."

"I'm not that close am I?"

"…"

"I did take on Ironwoods suggestion of adding a bulletin board for villages, and a man looking exactly like him was one of the first notices placed. He had helped several villages. I did check but Vacuo still doesn't keep any logs of active huntsman."

"Its not like they have any dust to spare… Wait- but what do you want with him?"

"I'm here to offer him asylum."

"Ozpin?!"

"Listen, listen. The last thing we need is for this man to be associated with the newcomers, when are they arriving by the way?"

" A few days, wait… Were they from the villages?"

"The very same. These records are open to the public and I'm sure that someone has scraped it before I could have it purged. It may be slightly conspiratorial but with everyone on edge from the shortage, the last thing we need is for it to take air, no matter how unlikely it is, and we'll need all the help this year..."

"I still can't believe you let that child in."

"She's skilled for her age, and is now on the news circuit. A perfect combination..."

"..."

"Besides, I already have the paperwork signed. They're both with us now."

END

Chapters every week or so...

Good day.