"I don't think they found us," Royce said. "They checked the cabin because it looked like a possible shelter, not because they knew we were here." All five of them had emerged from the cabin's hidden basement and were examining the tracks covering the floor. Royce paced, his eyes fixed on the muddy bootprints.

"The rain washed away the tracks outside, and I made sure there wouldn't be any trace of us inside. If they knew we were down there, they could have buried us if they had explosives, or suffocated us with smoke. We wouldn't be having this conversation."

"They could be spying on us," Reese said. "They could be waiting out there right now, listening."

Blake shook her head. "That doesn't track. Like Royce said, if they had known we were here they would have tried to kill us or take us prisoner. Watching and waiting doesn't make sense. Even if they were observing us, they wouldn't leave clues that they had been here. We got very lucky last night."

"So what do we do now?"

"We stick to the plan," said Coco, hefting Belle Mort. "We're moving out in five minutes; we don't want to burn what little overcast daylight we have if we're going to push to Harvest."

"Seriously?" Reese asked. "A bunch of ghost ninjas came within inches of discovering our hiding spot and murdering us in our sleep, and your impulse is to track them down?"

"Don't tell me you're scared of bandits too," Coco said.

"I'm not afraid of a bunch of thugs, but I've spent enough time in Mistral's back alleys to know a bad situation when I see one," Reese said, fire in her voice. "Maybe they don't know exactly where we are, but if they know we're out here and they're half as smart as you and Blake think they are, I'll bet you a million lien they've got a trap waiting for us in Harvest."

"It's not ideal, but if we're expecting a trap we can turn that against them. We can't just walk away because a situation is dangerous; there could be people that need our help. Even if there aren't, we could still find something that helps explain what's happening out here."

Reese folded her arms and leaned back against a wall. "Even if you know a trap is there, walking into it is stupid if you have another option. I vote we head back to Crescent Hollow, fortify the village, and come back with reinforcements from Vale."

"This isn't a democracy," Coco said clenching her fists. "We're going to Harvest."

"Actually, I'm with Reese on this one," Blake said. She moved to stand next to Reese, who looked at her in surprise before flashing her a grateful smile.

"These people clearly know the terrain. Even if they aren't affiliated with the White Fang they've adopted their guerilla tactics. On top of that, we lost the element of surprise last night. It would be trivial for them to ambush us under present conditions."

Blake fixed Coco with a predator's impassive stare. "I've been in their position enough times to know."

Coco looked from Reese to Blake, glaring. "Unbelievable. This is exactly why I wanted my old team for this mission. I can't trust any of—"

"I say we do it," Nora said. Everyone turned to stare at her. She responded with a shrug.

"If they want to be a bunch of sneaky snakes, I say we let 'em. We'll go to Harvest, and if they try to jump us we'll blow them to bits!"

Coco's eyebrows rose, then she leered at Blake and Reese.

"Looks like it's a tie. But since I'm the team leader, I think my vote gets a little more weight than yours. So I guess—"

"I'm sorry, do I not get a vote?"

They all turned to look at Royce. He shrugged at Coco, somehow managing to make the gesture incredibly patronizing.

"I mean it's not like I've been your guide for the past several days or anything like that."

Coco pursed her lips at Royce, then said, "You're not part of the team. You don't really get a say."

"Counterpoint: I'm not part of the team, so you can't boss me around."

Coco made an exasperated sound, but didn't dispute the rebuttal. Royce gave her a smug look, then softened and walked over to her.

"Coco, you and your team are really strong, really awesome, really tough huntresses. You don't need me in a fight, and you didn't need me to show you around; I just helped move things along faster. That said, it wouldn't sit right with me to abandon the only people fighting for the folks who live out here. If y'all decide to go to Harvest I'll lead the way, but I think we should head back to Crescent Hollow. If we get caught or killed out here, Isaac and Marta will be the only people left I'd trust to lead the village against an attack. They could put up a fight for a bit, but Isaac's not as good as any of us, and Marta doesn't have a lot of stamina anymore, even if she's got the resolve of a statue. If we fall, the village will too."

"You're willing to abandon another village like that?" Coco asked.

For the first time since meeting the huntresses, Royce looked tired. "You've all said how stealthy and capable our mysterious friends are. I don't like the idea of abandoning Harvest either, but I'd rather help the people I know we can protect instead of risking their safety because there's a small chance another village might have some survivors."

Coco met Royce's eyes. "That's detestable and cowardly." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "But, it is the smart play."

Royce took her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet.

Coco nodded, then shouldered her pack. "How fast can we get back?"

…

Two days later they arrived at Crescent Hollow in the afternoon and told Marta the results of their scouting.

"So we're the last ones," she said. "When do you think they'll attack Crescent Hollow?"

"It could be a few days from now, it could be tonight" Blake said. "I think we made it back without anyone following us, but if I were in their position I'd move on the village if there was even the smallest chance someone would get back here in time to warn you."

Marta nodded. "How do you want proceed?"

"Tell us everything about your defenses and the surrounding area," Coco said. "Institute a twenty-four hour watch, and introduce us to the villagers so they'll know to listen to our commands when the attack comes. We'll help reinforce the defenses while the sun's up. Once that's done, Nora and I will take turns standing watch with the active guard shift."

"What about me and Blake?" Reese asked.

"You need to rig something to boost our scroll signal enough to call for reinforcements. I think we've seen enough to justify some extra muscle. Blake's on standby; she needs to rest after our run back here."

"No, I should be leading the watch," said Blake. "I'm your best set of eyes and ears, and I'm better at fighting stealthy opponents than all of you. Besides, I feel fine; I'm not any worse off than the rest of the team."

Coco regarded her statement in silence for a moment. Then she gave Blake a gentle prod in the ribs where she'd struck the tree, light as a lover's caress. Blake recoiled like she'd been stabbed, and cried out in pain.

"I know you thought no one saw you nursing your side on the way back, but I noticed," Coco said. "You've done more than your share of the work Blake; don't worry about taking some time to let your Aura heal you up. I think we'll survive a night without you on watch."

"You couldn't have just ordered me to rest?" Blake asked, clutching her ribs.

"Team RWBY consisted of the most stubborn huntresses I've ever met. You all expressed it in different ways, but if one of you decided you were going to do something, you went and did it. I think you managed that trait better than the rest of your team, but would you have listened if I told you to take it easy?"

There was silence for a moment, then Blake shook her head. Coco rose from her seat and helped Blake stand.

"I can't believe you of all people called me stubborn," Blake said.

Coco grinned. "Come on Belladonna, I'm the original obstinate bitch."

…

Reese stepped back from the workbench and stretched. It had taken her from the end of the meeting until dusk to scavenge parts from around the village. Hours had passed since then, but she had managed to slap together a crude repeater to boost their scroll signal. The housing was a patchwork of different kinds of sheet metal, and it sounded like it was about to explode when she turned it on, but it would get the job done.

Her stomach growled. She gathered her toolkit and hoverboard and exited the small workshop a few streets down from the inn. As she closed the door, a voice came from behind her.

"Are we ready to blast my village's shrill wilderness folk music at the pop music fans in Vale?"

Reese snorted. She turned to see Royce walking toward her. "Not quite yet. What brings you by?"

"My watch shift is over and I'm looking for someone to grab a late-night dinner with before I hit the hay. If you're interested, I know where the innkeeper hides his best food."

"Lead on."

They walked through the village. There was a small but constant amount of quiet activity on the streets. No large groups roamed, but they passed a handful of individuals moving with purpose. Peering down side alleys they could see figures moving along the walkways near the top of the village walls. The tension was level and controlled, the result of generations of villagers reining their emotions in to prevent attracting grimm, but it was palpable all the same. Royce showed absolutely none of it, walking with his fingers laced behind his head, his halberd slung across his back.

"You look better," he said. "Like you did when you first got here."

Reese shrugged. "I'm back in my element. I'm on track to get us talking to Vale again, even if it takes a while."

"Which is why you recruited people to build the antenna and work in the forge."

"Anyone can weld struts or purify dust with a little instruction, but jury-rigging a repeater that won't burn out the second it turns on from scraps and old radios is an art."

Reese placed a hand to her chest. "And I am a master of the arts."

Royce let out a bark of laughter. "I thought masters were humble and old."

"Dude, I made a small generator from a model train set, a teakettle, and a flame Dust crystal. I secured my dorm room at Haven with laser tripwires I made with batteries and a bunch of broken CD players. I made hand grenades from Dust and old pens. I think I've earned the right to be a little proud of myself."

"Hand grenades made from pens?"

Reese made a wobbling motion with her hand. "Eh, I guess they were more like flashbangs."

"That sounds more believable." Royce grinned. "So if you're this super genius, why haven't we called Vale yet?"

"The antenna isn't done, and we need a lot more refined Dust. I'd have helped with that earlier, but building a repeater like I did is tricky, even with good components."

"How so?"

"Using dust to produce a specific frequency of electromagnetic radiation requires a closed system to contain the dust; which is incredibly delicate and precise work. Stray particles in the air are fine if you're firing a dust weapon, but if you're generating some kind of radio wave or x-ray or anything like that, stray dust inside the machine interferes with whatever frequency you're—"

Reese froze in her tracks. Then she slapped her forehead.

"Eu-freakin-reka," she whispered.

"What is it?" Royce asked.

They had reached the inn, but Reese kept walking past the door in the direction of the blacksmith's forge.

"I'll catch you later, I need to get some of the purified dust." She broke into a jog.

Royce cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because I know how to fix the thing we found in Perfection!" she called over her shoulder as she hopped onto her hoverboard and rode down the street.

Reese rode until she reached the blacksmith's workshop, and retrieved a thumb-sized vial of the newly-purified dust. After pocketing it she rode back to the inn, drew a startled glance from the innkeeper as she burst through the door, and ran up the stairs and down the hall to her room. She slowed as she neared the door, padding softly across the wood floor. She reached for the knob, gave it a slow twist like she was cracking a safe, and slipped inside, switching on her scroll light as she did so.

She tiptoed through the room, careful not to rouse Blake, but the care proved unnecessary. Before Reese had left earlier, Blake had fallen asleep in her clothes the moment she removed her boots. She hadn't moved since; lying curled on her side, draped in the folds of her coat, and softly snoring. Her cat ears, unbound from her bow, twitched every so often. Reese watched Blake's shoulders rise and fall for a few moments, then retrieved her pack and slipped back out the door.

She moved a few doors down to the end of the hall and entered a small common room. A couch, and a round table circled by chairs sat inside. She unrolled her toolkit out on the table and laid the device in front of her. It was box-shaped, and its front panel had popped off when its owner had fallen down the well, revealing ruined circuits and tangled wires.

Reese pushed aside some of the wires and examined the inside of the housing. At Perfection's inn she had been too shaken by her experience at the bottom of the well to closely inspect the thing, and they had all been too focused on the mission at the following villages for her to spend much time with the device. But sitting behind the safety of the Crescent Hollow's walls with a relative abundance of time, she was able to examine it in a thorough, unhurried manner.

Her eyes tracked along the housing until she noticed a faint line in the metal, near a wire that had come loose. She pried at it with a screwdriver and popped open a panel. Inside was a contact that looked like it would accept the loose wire, and a collection of thin rubber tubes that attached to the housing at a point opposite what Reese had assumed was a dent on the outside of the box. Wrapped in the rubber hoses and mounted in a pronged setting was a wafer-thin bruise-colored crystal.

Something hummed in Reese's head and she saw how the wires had connected to the crystal with pronged copper ends; how they had snaked across the circuits, linking to the box's missing control panel; how the series of thin rubber tubes had held the ultra-pure lightning dust that had led her to the box, keeping stray particles from producing interference; how the dent the tubes led to wasn't a dent, but where cartridges of the ultra-pure dust fed the device its lifeblood. Reese saw the device's insides in her mind as if it were brand new.

And she saw how she could rebuild it with the right parts.

It wouldn't be pretty, and it probably wouldn't work for long, but she'd know what it did. She dug through her bag, securing the tools and spare parts she needed. A few pieces short, she scanned the room and spied an old radio sitting on a shelf. She put it on the table with the rest of her things, pried off the back, and starting pulling out wires and silicon. She grinned as she cannibalized the radio.

"Arslan always did say I was a terrible houseguest," she said.

…

Coco sat at a table in the dining room on the inn's first floor, polishing the side of her boot for the third time. She moved the cloth around in tight circles, buffing the latest coating of polish she had applied. She set the cloth down next to her beret and sunglasses, and cocked her head at the boot to examine it up close. The black leather shone, reflecting a silhouette with crisp defined features.

"Oh good, we've moved onto accessorizing," said a cheeky voice. "Has the threat level dropped since this afternoon?" Coco looked up to see Royce carrying a cloth bag.

"Hardly," she said. "I just hate lying in bed if I can't fall asleep. I ran out of productive things to do an hour ago. What's your excuse?"

Royce shrugged. "I was going to eat dinner with one of your teammates, but that fell through so I just ate in the kitchen. I thought I'd sit out here and collect my thoughts for a bit."

He produced a bottle of brown liquor and a pair of whisky tumblers from the bag.

"I would be delighted if you'd join me." He regarded her with a thoughtful look. "You look much better without the beret."

Coco frowned at the glasses, then up at Royce. "Really? We could be attacked at any second and you decide that flirting with me is your best course of action?"

"Stranger things than romance have happened under siege."

"Not under any siege I've been a part of. Besides, I've got someone waiting for me in Vale."

Royce blinked at that information, then shrugged. "Then let's just share a drink as two young comrades in arms; no romantic advances from me. You said yourself you ran out of productive things to do; if it doesn't help you sleep, it'll help you relax."

There was a pause. Coco opened her mouth to tell him off, but her gaze went back to the bottle. Back in Vale she had been saving an almost identical bottle of whisky she had stolen from Sanctum's headmaster as a souvenir. It was older than her father, and its color was like someone had bottled autumn itself. She had been saving it for the day CFVY graduated from Beacon, but like everything else in her room, it had gone up in smoke with the rest of the school. Coco sighed and gestured for Royce to sit.

"One drink."

Royce smiled and sat down. He poured two fingers of whisky into each glass. Coco sipped at her glass, savoring the burn and the smoky flavor of the spirit; her face serene. Royce tried to affect the same expression, but he grimaced as he tasted the drink and gently set the glass down. Coco let out an amused snort.

"Nora has a friend like you. He tries to be suave, but he never quite pulls it off. You take a hint better than he does though."

"It's common courtesy," Royce said. "Why waste time on someone who's not interested? That just aggravates everyone."

Coco rolled her eyes, but there was an amused quality to the expression. "If only more guys understood that."

Royce chuckled. "You just need to reframe it in selfish terms for the persistent ones: moving on lets you find someone who's willing to give you a chance—like another lovely Vale huntress."

"It sounds like you've got a type."

"Yeah, my age and available. I already offered Nora a tour of the village the night you first arrived and she turned me down. Even if Blake defected, the idea of asking out an ex-White Fang member terrifies me, so that just leaves Reese."

Coco sniffed. "Your judgement seems inconsistent."

"She's not that bad."

"She's a liability." Coco set her glass down with a 'clack', emphasizing the last word. "Her team leader thought bringing her on this mission was a bad idea, but she said; 'It was Reese's decision.' If Vale's command hadn't been so adamant we take her, I would have sent her right back to Mistral. I wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't fought a single grimm until Beacon. I used to live in Mistral; city-born huntsmen don't always get enough experience with live grimm their first year at Haven."

Royce leaned to one side and gave Coco's boots a pointed look, before doing the same to the rest of her outfit.

"I wasn't born in the city," said Coco.

"Well aren't you a chameleon? Isaac will be glad to know he's not the only faunus in town."

They sat in silence for a few minutes as they finished their drinks. When they had finished, Royce gazed at his glass with a pensive look.

"I think Reese will surprise you. She may not have a lot of grimm kills under her belt, and she doesn't have the huntress mentality yet, but she's got enough spirit and brains that I think she could become a good huntress with the right team helping her grow."

"And that opinion of yours is in no way influenced by the fact that you think she's cute," Coco said, her voice dry.

"If it was, I would have said she's destined to become the best huntress of all time. I'm charming, not dishonest."

Coco laughed. She looked at the bottle, shrugged, and refilled both glasses. She held hers up.

"To growth."

Royce smiled and they clinked their glasses together. Coco gave him an appraising look as she drank.

"Before we went to scout the villages you said you wished you could have studied at Beacon."

"That's right," Royce said.

Coco leaned back in her seat. "Well we're both off duty and can't sleep, and I need to feel productive. What would you like to learn?"

…

Reese's hands moved across her workspace with a fluid precision that made her look possessed. Every few minutes she'd pause and close her eyes, consulting a mental image of what the device had looked like before she had removed every part and cleaned out the housing. Then she'd seize a part, secure it within the housing, and solder the appropriate connections. She continued at a steady stop-go pace until all that was left was the part where she got creative.

She produced a small switch, and wired it to the rest of the device. Without any additional metal to work with, she removed the faceplate from a light switch by the door, fit the switch through it, and secured the faceplate with a small bottle of superglue. Reese attached the device to her belt and looked down at it, her hand resting on its side. Then she turned her face away from it, shielding her eyes with her other arm.

"Please don't explode," she said, then flicked the switch.

…

Fire blazed into the night until only the brightest stars shone through the smoke. The White Fang had come to Vacuo and unleashed grimm upon Shade Academy just like they had at Beacon, producing similar results. People ran and screamed and died, the grimm devastated the grounds, and the White Fang picked off those who looked like they would escape, just like before.

One thing differed: This time, Blake was ready.

She watched a group of White Fang soldiers, led by a tall man with red hair, follow a young pair of students as they fled through the oasis gardens. They ran down a path bordered on either side by vine-covered trellises. The students passed a bench and Blake pulled on an almost invisible length of fishing line. Explosives engulfed all but two of the soldiers in a burst of fire. Blake leapt from her hiding place and cut down the remaining two soldiers with two neat strokes of her blades; one to the neck, the other across the belly. She turned to the students.

"Are you okay?"

The boy began to answer, but then his eyes bulged in terror. Blake dove forward and tackled them to the ground, leaving a shadow clone behind to take the gunfire. Blake rolled to her feet and spun around to find Adam strolling towards them unharmed, twirling Blush around one hand.

"You'll have to try harder, my love," he said, a languid sneer on his face.

"Go," she said to the students. She squared off against Adam as the students ran, slinging Gambol Shroud over her shoulder in favor of another pair of swords she had acquired for this fight; jagged one-handed blades shaped like lightning bolts. The two stood perfectly still for what seemed like ages. Then Adam flicked Blush up, and Blake dashed forward and to the side, swinging her right sword.

Bursts of electricity shot out from the blade and streaked towards Adam. Unable to parry the immaterial strikes, Adam took the electricity in the chest; growling in pain and bending at the waist. He swung Wilt at Blake. Blake leapt towards him as if to tackle him, then sprung up away from a shadow clone, vaulting high over Adam as the clone's momentum carried it forward, knocking Adam over even as he skewered it and turned it to smoke. He roared in anger and chased after Blake, crashing through the hedges and trellises of the garden as she weaved over and around them.

Blake burst into the open, coming upon a reflecting pool with a stone fountain in the middle. She glanced over her shoulder to see Adam following only three strides behind. She surged forward with a final burst of speed and leapt into the fountain, wading as fast as she could through the water, her heart pounding. She heard a large splash close behind her as Adam landed in the fountain—exactly where she wanted him.

Blake leapt one final time, getting some extra height by springing out of a clone. She spun in midair to face Adam and swung the other jagged sword, sending bright blue-white bursts of energy towards Adam's legs. The dust bursts landed and froze the water around Adam's legs in a circle two yards across. He staggered, shouting in pain as his knees locked out when he tried to move forward. Blake landed on the fountain's base, inches from the water. She didn't quip or gloat; she just bared her teeth, snarled, and thrust the lightning dust sword into the water.

Arcs of electricity danced across the surface of the water like leaping fish, lighting up the night even brighter than the fires. Adam screamed in agony and convulsed as the electricity flowed through his body and boiled the water of the fountain. The smell of ozone and burning flesh filled the air. Blake burned through the sword's dust reserves in fifteen seconds, but those seconds lasted a triumphant eternity. When there was no more dust left, Adam fell forward into the water and floated face down.

Blake stepped into the water and waded carefully over to Adam. She prodded him once, then shoved the spent dust sword through his neck just to be safe. She glowered down at the body for a moment, then turned and waded towards the edge of the fountain. She had almost reached the edge when she stepped forward and plunged straight down. Blake surfaced and gasped, kicking to keep her head above water that had been knee-deep moments before. A low and mocking laugh drifted from thin air, and Blake's heart turned to ice.

"You never learn, Blake. But I'll still give you one final lesson."

Something seized Blake's foot and dragged her five feet underwater before she could scream. When she tried, clouds of bubbles floated up to the surface, growing farther and farther away as she was dragged down. She thrashed and clawed at the water above her as she sank. In the darkness underwater, all she could see were vague shapes: Grimm, bandits, a chair…

Blake shot out of her nightmare, dry and warm in the inn's bed, but still unable to breathe. Her hands clawed at her throat, touching something coarse and thick wrapped around it. She pulled at it, fighting for air, but it stayed tight. Behind her, someone rolled her onto her stomach and jabbed their knees into her back, pinning her in place. Her arms flailed, but she couldn't bend them back to strike her attacker. She tried to call for help, but all that came out was a plaintive wheeze.

Spots appeared in her vision, bright as fireworks on a summer night, then the unlit room grew even blacker.

…

Reese felt a strange tingling sensation course through her body but nothing changed. She didn't feel stronger or faster or more energetic. She frowned for a moment, pondering what the box could have done, then dug an empty vial out of her pocket and chucked it straight up. She moved underneath it as it fell back down and cursed as it struck her nose.

"Not a forcefield then," she said to herself. She scanned the room for something to lift, wondering if the box had given her super strength after all, and her gaze fell on the couch. She crouched next to it, hooked a finger under it, and strained. The couch didn't move until she used both hands. She glared at her hands in frustration.

Her hands weren't there.

She yelped, springing back, and looked down at herself. She saw nothing. She grabbed her scroll off the table to look for her reflection in the screen. It reflected an empty room back at her for a brief moment before it vanished. She set the scroll down and it blinked back into existence.

She grabbed different items testing the effect. Her hoverboard and some stray dust crystals disappeared, as did her screwdriver and her pack. She grasped one of the chairs in the room, but it remained visible; as did the table, the bookshelf and every other large item she tried the effect on. Reese flopped back in one of the chairs, trying to process the full implications of her discovery. She failed to muster any coherent thought. Then she burst out laughing.

"This is frigging awesome!" She sprung out of the chair and left the common room, moving down the hall to her nearest potential witness. She swung the door to her room open, throwing light across the bed near the door.

"Blake, wake up! You have got to—"

Reese froze in the door. Blake was twitching and making choking sounds, her hands feebly slapping at her throat. A thick rope, big around as her thumb was pulled taut across her windpipe, its ends pulled back into the air by an unseen force as if held by a ghost. The back of Blake's coat was creased as if something was pressing against it.

Reese darted inside, grabbed a lamp from the night table, and swung it at a point behind and above the ends of the rope. The lamp struck something solid with a 'CRACK', the impact sending tremors up Reese's arms. She heard a cry of pain, and a depression formed in the bed as if someone had fallen there. The rope slackened and Blake tore away, diving off the bed and gasping for air as she staggered to her feet. Her head shot back and forth, her eyes wide with confusion and terror. There was a groan from the depression in the bed, and it moved towards Blake, disappearing as it stepped onto the floor.

"No you don't!" Reese shouted. She yanked the sheets off the bed and tossed them towards Blake. They stopped a yard from her, draping over a human figure where there had only been empty air. The figure shouted in surprise and thrashed against the sheets, but it was too slow. Reese swung a chair at its legs, knocking it to the floor. Then she brought the chair down again and again with overhand swings, shouting in wordless fury, striking the attacker until the chair shattered into a mess of wood scraps and crossbeams. The form under the sheet lay still. Reese exhaled in relief, only to jump back as a sword cut the air where she had stood. Blake swung both halves of Gambol Shroud, slashing through the air blindly in every direction.

"Blake! It's over, it's me!" Reese shouted. She reached down to flick off the cloaking device and held up her hands in defense. Blake stared at Reese for a moment, her upper body heaving as she breathed in ragged gasps, then collapsed back into the remaining chair.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked, her eyes wide.

Before Reese could answer, running footsteps came from down the hall, hurrying towards their room. Reese hefted a chair leg and fistful of sheets, and Blake brandished Gambol Shroud. Both huntresses assumed fighting stances. The footsteps drew closer, slowing as they neared the door.

"Blake? Reese?" Coco asked. They relaxed as Coco and Royce entered the room, weapons drawn. Coco looked from Blake to Reese slightly confused, then looked at the body. "Lovely. Is that one of the assholes we've been trying to find?"

"I think so," Reese said. She inched back towards the figure and gently prodded it with her foot. It didn't move. She peeled back the sheets on Blake's would-be assassin to find a man with wolf ears dressed like the body from the well. He wore the same device as Reese belted to his hip; its control panel smashed from her attack. Reese pointed at it.

"That's how they've been getting around without anyone noticing. There's some weird crystal in these things that lets these guys disappear. Energy released by the dust in the box goes through them, it breaks a couple laws of physics, and 'bam': invisible bandits."

"Invisible bandits?" said Coco, her voice skeptical. "You're joking."

Reese gave Coco a flat look and cycled the switch on the cloaking device, popping out of view and back. Coco gawked at Reese for a moment, then she shook her head and composed herself. Her fingers played with her sunglasses where they hung at her throat as she processed the new information, then she spoke:

"Do you have any way to make these guys visible again?"

Reese shook her head. "Nothing practical. I only took this guy down because the sheet didn't turn invisible when I tossed it over him."

"Too bad they weren't nice enough to leave footprints this time."

Reese and Royce perked up at the same time and exchanged glances. Coco stared at them, perplexed.

"What did I say?"

"Give me five minutes with my gear and I can throw something together," Reese said. "It'll be like putting a band-aid on a grimm bite, but it'll be better than nothing." Before Coco could reply, she moved towards the door and flicked the device on, vanishing from sight just before she passed through the doorway. Coco turned to Royce.

"What's your bright idea?"

"There's something we can use downstairs. It'll sound really dumb if I tell you though."

"Royce, answer the damn—"

"We're wasting time," said Blake. She cupped her throat gingerly and flinched. "We need to warn the village. This is an old White Fang tactic for attacking a fortified position: take out the off-duty threats with infiltrators to spread fear, then hit the active defenders in their backs while the main force strikes."

As soon as Blake finished speaking, a short cry of surprise came from downstairs, followed by a muted thump. They turned to the door, weapons ready. Coco cracked her knuckles.

"Blake, watch Reese's back. Royce, you come with me and clear the ground floor. Once everyone's ready, we'll raise the alarm and secure the village."

"Splitting up?" Royce asked. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"We have to move fast. You chickening out on me lanky?"

He raised his halberd to a ready position. "You wish."

It's good to be back, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!