Chapter 6: A Man Must Work

Mato awoke naked, sore all over, and with the taste of dirt in his mouth.

Damnit, not again.

Mato hadn't unintentionally transformed since he was ten. The resulting devastation an uncontrolled Oozaru caused made it a very bad idea. There was some special training warriors got to control themselves even after transforming, but Mato had no idea what it was. He had tried to work it out on his own a few years ago, but after half a dozen attempts with nothing even resembling progress he had given up.

As Mato slowly sat up there was a sharp pain in his cheek. Investigating with his fingers revealed a cut, not a deep one but deep enough to draw blood. That was a surprise. That something could have wounded him while he was transformed, Mato didn't think it was possible for humans. It might not be any more; anything that could actually harm an Oozaru tended to command its attention. That did not bode well for whoever cut him.

Mato saw cross-legged and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a wooded area, though one with a line of toppled trees stretching off into the distance. No credits for guessing what caused that. Speaking of credits, the transformation shredding his clothing meant he had lost the contents of his pockets, the money he had earned with his work. So now Mato had nothing to show for his time with the White Fang except a sense of disappointment. Really, the entire two months he had spent on Remnant had been completely wasted. Maybe he should chuck it all and just live out here in the wilds; his state of dress would be a problem otherwise. Though saiyans lacked the stigmas associated with nudity that many species had, Mato was aware enough to know he couldn't exactly return to the human city without finding something to wear.

Mato smelled Grimm in the same moment he heard the screaming. A second later he was darting through the underbrush. He burst from the foliage to see a young human, a male maybe four or five years older than Mato, being menaced by an Ursa. He was backed to a large boulder, his arms raised futilely to ward off the monster and his eyes closed to attempt to deny the inevitable. They tentatively opened when the Ursa let out a strangled gurgle instead of biting off his head. When he saw Mato sitting atop the fading corpse he did a double take, then averted his eyes.

Mato tsked. Prudish human. "Hello."

"Um, hi." The human seemed to be having difficulty accepting that he was not in fact about to die. "Thank you, I mean, for saving me." He walked over to a knife that had been lying in the grass and retrieved it. Even after he had done so, he kept resolutely staring at a tree off in the distance.

"Don't thank me just yet." Mato said. He had an idea. "I didn't save you for free."

The human gulped audibly. "So… what exactly do you want?"

"Give me your pants."

The human stepped back, looking nearly as distressed as he died when facing the Ursa. "W-why?"

"Because I'd like to be able to have conversation with someone without them staring in the opposite direction." Mato said drily. "And I'm getting the impression that's not going to happen until I cover up."

After a moment's deliberation, the human surrendered the garment. The pants were oversized and Mato could tell they were going to chafe certain sensitive areas after a while but they would suffice for now. As Mato was donning the article of clothing his stomach growled. An Oozaru rampage tended to make one hungry. Mato glanced at the human in his undergarments.

"Say, is there a village around here?"

The human's name was Octarine, Octa for short. He had been returning to his home village from a neighboring one yesterday, when he'd had to take cover from the Grimm. Normally, he explained as they walked, it was fairly easy to avoid the Grimm in this region, even with them becoming more active recently. If you knew the terrain and made sure to travel during the day when they were less mobile, you could travel between villages with little danger. However, yesterday afternoon he had been making the trek home from another village where he had done some trading the Grimm had been far more active than usual. "It was like nothing I'd seen before." Octa said. "I don't know what happened yesterday that might have roused so many Grimm all at once, but if I hadn't hidden up in the trees I'd be a dead man."

Mato didn't comment. Octa did most of the talking as they walked, Mato mostly brooding and giving one word answers to any questions. Eventually, they reached the village, so far just a wall of logs bound together with the woods cut back from them. Octa called out.

"Hey! It's me!"

"Octa?" A head popped over the wall. "When you didn't come back we feared the worst. Cerul went out to… Why aren't you wearing any pants?"

"It's a long story." Octa replied, briefly glancing at Mato. "Mind letting us in?"

"Sure, just let me get the door." The head dropped back below the wall. There were the sounds of something rattling and being slid around. Mato was suddenly gripped with a surge of impatience. He wrapped an arm around Octa's waist and lightly hopped into the air. As they crested over the wall, he got his first look at Mist Village. The walls extended all the way around to a full circle, within were an assortment of houses and other buildings. All of them were made of wood and the majority was only one story. Smoke rose from the houses, an oddly pleasant scent. Mato found himself reminded of home and for half a moment felt content.

Then they landed. Mato released Octa, who staggered a bit before sharing an incredulous look with the gatekeeper. They might have said something, but at that moment Mato's noise picked up a delicious smell coming from close by. His stomach warbled a reminded he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday and he set off. The scent was coming from a nearby house, one with its wooden hatch windows opened. Mato pushed open the door to see a table and a pair of benches. On the bench closer to him were two men, one younger, the other old enough to be his father. On the opposite bench there was a woman, looking about the age of the older man. Each one of them had a plate of food in front of them, some kind of meat with a smattering of vegetables. Simple fare, but it looked good all the same.

The diners looked up at his intrusion, a little concerned but mostly curious. Since he had been thinking of home, Mato found himself remembering the old game. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the younger man and threw him off the bench. He ignored the shouts and cries and sat down, already grabbing a piece of meat and taking a bite. The older man stood and reached a hand out towards him; without looking up from his meal Mato grabbed it, bent it back and threw him into the wall behind him. As an afterthought, he dragged the older man's plate in front of him next to the one he was currently eating from. The younger man was back on his feet and lunged forward, but a quick jab to the stomach put him back on the ground wheezing. The woman had withdrawn from the table, hands clasped over her mouth.

In the silence that followed the brief display of violence, Mato stuffed his face. Eat quickly, leave some of the good stuff, don't hurt them more than you had to. He may not have played on this side of the game back home, but he still knew what the rules were.

"What are you doing?" That was Octa, who had followed him. The human seemed distressed, but was still sensible enough to not try to pick a fight.

"Eating." Mato said. He kept it brief so he could eat faster, but it did cover basically everything that needed to be said.

"You can't just march in and take people's food like that!"

Mato rolled his eyes. Humans. "Can. Did." It was that simple. Did they really not understand that?

Octa said nothing back, but quietly spoke with the house's residents. The four of them left after a moment, leaving Mato alone with his food. That served him just fine.

Mato finished his meal and took a minute to wonder what he was going to do now. He currently had nothing to his name but a pair of ill-fitting pants. This village would be a decent place to get started, get a least some proper clothes and a few meals, but Mato had little intention of staying in this place, ruling over helpless villagers. He reviewed his options. He could go anywhere he wanted and do anything he wanted. He just didn't want to go anywhere or do anything.

He exited the house and found himself confronted by a young woman. She had bright blue hair, with traces of brown at the roots showing it was dyed. She carried a spear and looked ready to use it, a hard expression on a face that looked accustomed to having it there. She was dressed in leather clothes that had been adapted into makeshift armor, with its fair share of wear and tear. Octa was standing behind her, looking pensive with his knife in his hands.

"Who do you think you are!?" The spearwoman demanded of him.

"Mato." He answered bluntly.

"Mato." She endeavored to turn the name into an insult. She took a step forward and gestured with the spear. "You think you can just walk in here and take whatever you want?"

"Of course." Mato let out a sigh at the human's inability to understand basic social mechanics. "I have the physical capacity to take that food from those people and prevent them from taking it back. That makes it mine."

"So you have the right to do whatever you want if no one can stop you?" She replied, shaking her head. She looked him in the eyes with a glare that was probably meant to be intimidating. "So if I can kill you, you have no right to complain about me doing so."

That was not, strictly speaking, true. People were not only allowed, but outright expected to resist being preyed on by stronger beings. Honor dictated that the stronger party suppress them with a proportionate degree of force and to respect their courage for daring to fight back, while the weaker side was obligated to capitulate rather than struggle on past the point of decency. However, Mato had no inclination to provide a lecture on one's social obligations and he didn't think the human would listen if he did. So he limited his response to simply saying "That's correct. Assuming you could kill me, that is."

The woman responded with rushing forward and lashing out with her spear. Mato dodged the steel headed serpent's strikes, using a minimum amount of movement. She switched tactics to wide slashes that were harder to sidestep and Mato responded by increasing his speed and flipping past her, stepping off her head just to be a little cheeky. Incensed, she charged at him but her rage left her open. Mato slipped past the spearpoint and drove a palm into her chest, throwing her backwards.

"Cerul!" Octa cried, rushing over to the downed woman. She coughed air back into her lungs as he helped her up. She glared at Mato.

"Picking on people who can't fight back? You're pathetic."

Mato's hands clenched into fists. He raised one and let fly with a blast of ki. When the dust settled, he saw Octa lying unconscious and Cerul sitting up over him, both burned.

"Octa! Hang on!" A light glimmered in Cerul's hands and she pressed them to Octa's chest. The light washed over his body and his burns began to fade.

A healing ability? Mato turned away and rose into the sky. He didn't feel like fighting anymore.

In the absence of anywhere better to go, he ended up landing on the tallest building in the village, a two story smithy of some sort, and perched on its roof. He intended to take a nap, get some sleep so he could clear his head and think about what to do next. Unfortunately, his memories denied him that pleasure.

"Mato."

"What is it? I'm about to head back out."

"One of the survivors you brought back, she's not gonna make it."

"I doubted they all would, what's your point?"

"We think it would be…best… if you were to make her dying last a few seconds rather than a few hours."

Mato didn't say anything, just walked over to the prone woman. Her body was a ruin; you didn't need to be a medical expert to know she wasn't long for this world. She was still awake, the medic probably didn't want to waste the limited supply of painkillers they have on a lost cause. Mato crouched and gently leaned her up into a sitting position. She struggled to speak.

"Thank… you, for helping me. You're, argh, a lot more help than these idiots." She winced, her feature contorting in pain. "They won't give me anything and…hah hah… are helping people way better off first. When I get better I'm gonna kick their asses."

Mato's arm snaked around her neck faster than she could react, his other arm on her head. He twisted and a crack echoed off the walls. Mato let the corpse slump back down onto the ground and rose, face expressionless.

"I'm going back out, he announced, and was flying before anyone could say anything.

He could still hear the crack of that unnamed woman's neck. When he closed his eyes it echoed out of the recesses of his brain. And it was all his fault, a little voice that sounded like his father whispered at him.

It was not. He hadn't hurt her, the Grimm did. He just made her passing less painful. And it was Torchwick who let the Grimm in in the first place.

He had helped, though. He had been defending the White Fang, securing resources for them, enabling their plans.

He hadn't known what those plans were, though. How could he have known they were going to do something as dishonorable as launching their attack on a bunch of noncombatants?

What was he expecting? That a group of revolutionaries who have never so much as heard of warriors would keep to the warrior's code of honor? It wasn't like they had been hiding their plans from him; he had been trying to not be told. Everyone in that tunnel had died because he was too apathetic to give half a damn.

They made their choices. They knew what the plan was, even if he didn't. They chose to put their lives on the line.

And the noncombatants in the city? Did they choose?

Mato angrily shook his head. He could never beat his old man when they argued in person. Now that Mato's consciousness sounded like him the losing streak continued. Thankfully, he was spared having to dwell on this by a spear embedding itself in the roof next to where he was sitting. He plucked it out of the thatch and threw it back to Cerul's feet. "Try again, but this time aim better."

Cerul did pick up the spear, but she made no move to throw it again. Instead she just glared at him. "I want you out of this village."

"Then make me leave." Mato was aware he was being petulant, he just didn't really care.

Cerul gave a disgusted sigh. "You're the worst kind of person. We're fighting off increasing Grimm attacks, every day out here is a constant struggle to survive and then you show up, take whatever you want, give nothing back, and tell us it's our fault for being weak."

Unbidden, memories surfaced in Mato's mind. "Come on Mato, it's time to hit the fields."

"Daaad, can't I go train instead? It's not like you need my help."

"A man must work, if he wants to eat."

"Warriors don't have to work. They just take our food whenever they're hungry."

"Warriors do their own work. It's not as great as farming, but they don't lie around doing whatever they want either. And even if they did, until you're a warrior yourself you still need to eat. Which means you still need to work."

He'd forgotten that. He had forgotten a lot of things the old man had tried to teach him. He had been young and stupid back then. As opposed to now, where he was a paragon of intelligent decision making.

Mato let out a bark of laughter. Looking down at Cerul, he spoke. "If you were as strong as me, those Grimm attacks would not be a problem."

She just shook her head, turned on her heel, and left him to his thoughts.

Cerul regarded the setting sun with distaste. If it could just get on with it and let night begin, that would be great. The Grimm of this region had settled into a pattern these last few months. During the day, they kept to themselves and would only really attack if someone wandered close by. But when night fell, that changed. The Grimm would range outward, hunting. The woods were no longer safe, hell, the village wasn't truly safe either. A concentrated force of Grimm could easily overrun the walls and there was nowhere for the people of the village to run. And since a few weeks ago, there had been enough Grimm out there to do it. The village had been surviving thus far through sheer luck. Any night could be the one. Maybe it was this one.

The sun passed below the trees and the gloom began to grow. Cerul grimaced and pressed a hand to her chest. That punch Mato had given her still hurt even now. Though her semblance was that of healing, she had spent her power on Octa before using what little was left on herself. There hadn't been enough left over to fully mend her wounds. As much as she didn't want to admit it, he was probably right that if she was as powerful as him she could drive away the Grimm on her own. The problem was she wasn't and she was on her own anyway. Octa could take care of himself with his knife if you didn't expect much from him, but most other people in the village could barely handle a spear without hurting themselves. With the walls to keep the Grimm from mauling them, that was enough most of the time. But if anything got through or even put a little too much pressure on the wooden palisade, it would wreak havoc until Cerul could bring it down herself.

This lack of manpower wouldn't have been a problem if Vale had actually sent Huntsmen. Coral had sent out a distress call to the kingdom over a week ago and no one had come. Not even him. Cerul angrily shook her head. Did that surprise her? He had abandoned the village once before, why wouldn't he do so again? She wasn't being entirely fair, she knew. He might not be ignoring their plight; it might be he just didn't know. Of course, he didn't know because he wasn't here because he had abandoned them.

What was taking the Grimm so long? She had been standing here waiting for almost a half an hour now and hadn't seen so much as a Creep. Cerul leaned on her spear and peered into the darkened forest. She hadn't been able to convince her fellow watchmen to douse their watchfires, which played havoc on their night vision, but even so she felt she could make out something moving around in the trees. So there were Grimm out there, if she strained her ears she could hear them. But what were they doing? She heard grunts and growls and… squeals?

Why were they holding back? The Grimm attacks had been increasing in frequency and intensity over the past few weeks. The arrival of Mato, a thief who stole by beating up anyone in his way, would have only made the situation worse by filling the villagers with fear. The Grimm ought to be charging forward in a slavering horde. Instead, it almost sounded as if they were fighting amongst themselves. Further adding to her confusion, a flash of light briefly illuminated the trees.

She was distracted from this riddle by a cry from the other end of the village. "Grimm attacking from the east!"

Cerul gripped her spear and leapt off the wall. She hit the ground running. She could cross the village in twenty seconds and each one of them could mean life or death for her neighbors facing down the Grimm. Which made her tripping and falling potentially catastrophic. She picked herself off the ground bewildered. She could have sworn something had knocked her over, almost like it had blown past her at a high speed, but looking around she couldn't see anything.

When she finally reached the wall, there was an eerie quiet.

"Where are the Grimm?" She asked one of the watchmen.

He responded with a shrug. "Beats me. One minute they were swarming the walls, the next there's a bright flash, almost like an explosion, and they were gone."

Brow furrowing, Cerul leaped down to the outside of the walls. She patted the dirt, confirming her suspicions. It was warm and crumbly, just like a flare of fire had scorched it for a second or two. Looking around, there wasn't any grass left in a wide swath around the wall. She leapt back to the top of the wall, a possible answer she wasn't sure she believed brewing in her mind.

The rest of the night was both busy and uneventful. The Grimm would mass at some part of the walls, Cerul would rush over to combat them, and would find nothing or on a rare occasion a few fading Grimm carcasses. By midnight the attacks had stopped and from the noises and flashes whatever had been killing the Grimm had moved into the woods to engage them more directly. By the time the sky began to brighten, Cerul had withdrawn from the walls and was sitting outside her house. She heard a yawn coming from the roof.

Without turning to look, she asked him. "You don't need to answer this if you don't want, but why?"

"Don't get me wrong." Mato said to her. "I annihilated those creatures so I wouldn't have to put with you people trying to get in my way. I think I've proven I could wipe out this entire village if I wanted to. I don't expect any more crap when I take what I need."

If you've killed half as many Grimm as I think you did, the entire village owes you their lives. A little food is a small price to pay. Cerul sighed. "I tell Coral, our leader, what you've done. She'll make sure you can get whatever you want."

Mato yawned again. "Right now, all I really want is some sleep."

"I doubt you need any help getting that." Cerul answered dryly. When Mato didn't answer she stood and walked over to where she could see up onto her roof. The young man was already fast asleep, his bare chest rising and falling rhythmically. Cerul noticed the soles of his feet were bruised and covered in dirt. She sighed.

After putting Mato in her bed, she set off to find Coral. Cerul, at least, paid what she owed.

"Five minutes to our arrival, students." Professor Port called back from the cockpit. Jaune suppressed a yawn.

The five days following the Grimm invasion of the city had been busy ones. Classes had been suspended in the wake of the breach and extra credit was offered to students willing to help with the reconstruction efforts. Jaune and Nora were in desperate need for something to boost their grades, Nora would be more hindrance than help if Ren didn't come along, and Jaune faintly suspected Pyrrha would have gone even if it had had cost her points. After several long days of toiling away, you would never suspect that the city had suffered a decently sized Grimm attack.

Jaune had been hoping to spend the day after the end of their volunteer work resting and preparing for the start of the tournament. However, when Ren had learned the mission they were going to do before the breach interrupted them hadn't been completed in the interim, he had been insistent that they finish it themselves. Unusually insistent. Though once he had explained his reasons, Jaune couldn't even begin to argue.

The members of Team JNPR didn't do much talking about their pasts. For Jaune, there wasn't much to tell. Pyrrha's various accomplishments were a matter of public record, if you cared to look. Ren and Nora met in an orphanage, which implied the sort of unpleasantness that was rude to pry into. But when insisting they go, Ren had volunteered a brief summary.

He had not been born within the kingdom, as Jaune had assumed, and was instead from one of the villages dotting the wilds. His parents had been protectors of said village and had unfortunately lost their lives defending it. Their last wishes had been that Ren go to Vale both to be safe and to train within the kingdom so that when he was grown he could defend it himself. So he packed up his things, left the village, been picked up by Vale's border patrol and brought to the orphanage, met Nora, started training as a Huntsman, and now had gotten word that his home village was suffering from Grimm attacks. Naturally, he wanted to do something about that.

"We're here!" Professor Port announced as the bulkheads swung open. Ren threw himself out into space, followed closely by Nora and Pyrrha. With a gulp, Jaune leapt out into the air. He fell the twenty some odd feet to the ground and managed to land on his feet, though he stumbled and almost fell over after. He couldn't but compare that to his teammates perfectly coordinated landings and feel a little depressed. He reminded himself to follow Pyrrha's advice and focus on the positives; a few months ago he probably would have landed on his face.

Professor Port joined them on the ground as the airship roared away to find a place to land and Jaune got his first look at Mist Village. It seemed a quaint, quiet place, lots of little wooden houses and a general rustic feeling. JNPR had dropped into what appeared to be the town square and a small crowd had gathered to peer at them. Murmurs rippled, and they didn't sound too positive. Just as Jaune was starting to feel self-conscious a pair of women pushed free from the crowd and walked over to them. The first looked to be about his age, with blue hair and spear slung over her shoulder. The second reminded him uncomfortably of his authoritarian grandmother, from the closely cropped gray hair to the steely glint in her eyes.

Ren spoke first. "Hello Cerul, Coral."

Both of them ignored him. "You are late." Coral said, leveling a stone faced gaze at Professor Port.

"Well," Port began, clearly wrong-footed. "There were circumstances that delayed our departure."

"Truly?" Coral asked, clearly not believing a word. "I hope they were dire circumstances indeed, seeing as if we had not gotten help we would have all been killed long ago."

Jaune's face flushed from embarrassment. It was easy to write off the Grimm as a minor threat at best when you were safe behind the kingdom's defenses, but out here fighting them off was a matter of life and death. And the Huntsmen of Beacon had ignored this threat in favor of being janitors.

Port was less abashed and noticed what she had really told them. "Then you mean to say someone else dealt with the Grimm? Who?"

His question was answered by someone falling out of the sky to land near Cerul and Coral. The newcomer looked a bit younger than Jaune and had spiky black hair and a tail that looked a lot like a brown furry belt wrapped around his waist. Kind of exactly like that one super strong White Fang member Ruby had told Jaune about. But, given the way the murmurs from the crowd now sounded a lot more pleased he didn't really seem like a terrorist. Whoever he was, he ignored the Beacon contingent and spoke to Coral and Cerul.

"I've made a sweep out as far as the river. I'm pretty sure there are more past the east bank, but everywhere west of the river should be clear for now."

Next to Jaune, Ren was muttering. "The river? All the way to the Blue Ribbon?"

Coral replied to the maybe White Fang member. "And have you reconsidered your decision to leave?"

He let out a short bark of laughter, out that seemed completely devoid of any amusement. "Oh no, with all the Grimm gone this place will get awfully boring. Plus, if I stuck around much longer I'd probably eat you all out of house and home. No, better for everyone if I get going."

"We made you a going away gift." Cerul blurted out; almost like she hadn't been sure she wanted to say it. "It's just a pack with some clothes and those apple slices you said you liked. It's over at Viridian's house."

"Hmm." The black haired Faunus didn't look pleased by that but he didn't seem offended either. It was like it didn't matter to him one way or another. "I'll swing by there then on my way out."

"You're leaving right now?" Coral asked, the slight surprise in her voice the most emotion Jaune had seen from her.

"Yeah. I try not to linger." The Faunus was turning to leave when Ren stepped forward.

"You saved this village from the Grimm?"

The Faunus turned back. "Yeah, I guess."

"Then thank you." Ren bowed at the waist. "I owe you a great debt."

"Uh yeah, you're welcome." The Faunus scratched under one of his ears. He shifted awkwardly. "Anyway, time I was getting gone. I'll see you guys around, I guess." He rose and blasted off into the air, rapidly becoming a speck in the horizon. Professor Port stared after him with an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

"I believe you were leaving as well." Coral said archly. "No doubt you are very busy."

Jaune looked at the sullen and unhappy faces staring out at them. No, they were not welcome here. Not one bit. Professor Port must have felt the same way, as he raised the pilot on the radio and told him to bring the airship back around.

Ren spoke quietly to Cerul. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"You made your choices, Ren." She answered him just as softly. "If this isn't what you wanted, you have only yourself to blame."

Ren didn't have an answer for that.

When he had been a kid, Jaune had seen Huntsmen as heroes, champions, people that were respected. It was why he wanted to be one. But, he reminded himself, it's what you do that gets you respect, not what you are. And even by the time the bullhead roared back over their heads, Jaune couldn't think of one reason why someone who was repairing flowerbeds while people fought for their lives deserved respect.

General James Ironwood looked out from his personal box at the opening matches of the Vital Tournament. Brilliant displays of personal prowess from the young people of Remnant, broadcast around the world seamlessly through the CCT network, taking place in the most advanced facility ever created, and defended by top of the line combat droids. Each element was a testimony to humanity's ingenuity, determination, and capability to achieve greatness. Even the logistics of arranging the Vytal Festival would seem an insurmountable difficulty to many people, yet the whole thing flowed without so much as a hiccup.

"General Ironwood! Sir!"

James sighed. Of course. He turned to face one of his lieutenants, a young man named Lloyd whose excitable temperament was a marker of his lack of real combat experience. Still, he was an adept administrator and leader and thus far had handled the security detail of the Festival without incident. Something James strongly suspected had changed. "What is it?"

"We've found him, sir!"

"Who?" James' mind immediately went to the absent Qrow, who had been out of touch so long they had begun to suspect the worst. He then thought of Amber's mysterious attacker, who they hadn't seen so much as a trace of ever since that dreadful day. But of course, Lloyd couldn't possibly mean either of them. To James' men, Qrow was just another Huntsmen and the attacker didn't even exist. James had argued the value in informing his men to keep a look out for the trio, but Ozpin had spoken against it. It would raise too many questions, he had said.

"The missing White Fang member we were warned to look out for." Lloyd reported. "He's infiltrated the colosseum, I suspect in preparation for some kind of terrorist attack. I have a team standing by to engage."

James held out a hand and was given Lloyd's data slate. He quickly compared the security footage from the colosseum with the images the surveillance systems had picked up during the breach incident. There was no doubt, this was the same man.

"Just give the order and we'll take him into custody." Lloyd said with the eagerness of someone who could stand to lose a fight or two.

"No." James said while staring at footage. He was a bold one, this White Fang. Walking around the colosseum bold as brass, like he owned the place. James looked up and saw Lloyd's incredulous face. "With an enemy this powerful, attempting to bring him in in such a public space with inevitably result in civilian casualties. We need to wait for him to enter a more secluded area first. Keep an eye on him and have squads ready to move in the second he does anything suspicious, but be sure to keep them out of sight. The last thing we want is to spook him, who knows what he'll do when he thinks himself cornered."

"Yes sir." Lloyd was already issuing orders as he made for the elevator. James allowed himself another second of looking out upon the tournament before turning away. Humanity's accomplishments have always required brave souls to defend them. James prayed his familiar plea that he not be found wanting.

Mato walked along the outer areas of the flying colosseum, just another face in the crowd. He had to give credit where it was due; this was an impressive display of technology. Making the massive structure fly seemed a bit excessive but maybe the point had been to show off. Still, this place wasn't exactly secure. Mato had been able to infiltrate it just by body flickering through the check point at an entrance.

When Cerul had mentioned the existence of this "Vytal Festival" Mato had been interested. A collection of some of the best fighters on Remnant all competing for glory and nationalistic pride. Mato might be able to learn a little more about Remnant combat styles by observing the fights; if nothing else the humans fumbling around would be good for a laugh. Judging by the cheers, a fight was already in progress.

Mato followed the crowd around a corner and could now see into the seating at the end of this passageway, as well as the massive screen on the opposite end of the stadium. He watched the screen, as a team waved to the crowd and a bombastic announcer praised their victory. Judging by what Mato assumed to be Aura meters on the screen, they had won rather handedly.

Mato stood there, watching, deliberating, for a long moment. He started to walk forward; the walk sped up into a jog which sped up into a run. At the end of the passageway his final step propelled him forward, over the heads of the audience and into the arena itself. He landed in the center of the ring, about ten meters from the winning team.

"Hi." Mato said, straightening up from his landing crouch.

"Long time no see." He continued, savoring the look on Cinder Fall's face.

AN: Haha! Ya'll thought I was just gonna follow along the canon plot, didn't ya? You set em up and then you throw em the curveball, outta nowhere.

This last chapter was a bitch and a half, and trying to write it during exam season didn't do wonders for my writing speed. Ah well, no one said writing a crossover between a contemporary American animation and a Japanese series over twenty years was going to be easy. That's not true they all said that.

Since Mato can't remember anything from his transformed rampage, I'll just fill in some of the blanks for you here. The White Fang tried to fight him off with the paladins, but Matozaru quickly reduced them to so much scrap. Adam returned at some point and was the one to cut Mato's cheek like that. Mato retaliated and badly injured Adam, but some of his lackeys were able to drag him from the area still alive. With everyone running for their lives, the Oozaru stomped off into the wilderness.