1 Year Later.
The moons light danced and rolled atop calm waves, lapping at the smooth concrete invaders with careless abandon. At this time of the year, two full moons came as the sign of a good harvest for the fisheries, and safe travels between cities, and would be met with joy and celebration, but tonight, the moons ghostly visage only brought apprehension and anxiety.
Usually he would never consider the docks an option, but ever since the news broke, and people had seen it with their own eyes, not only the docks, but the beaches, lakes and rivers had all been nearly abandoned. He couldn't blame anyone for wanting to stay away, not when he'd finally seen why.
Vale's seasons weren't very different from the other Kingdoms, they had Summer, Spring, Fall, and Winter all the same as the others, but what made them unique was what they came to call a "SuperSeason" or "Blanket Season", a season of pure rain, that covered both Winter and Spring in their entirety. During the SuperSeason, the warmer southern currents began to wrap around the coast, colliding with the approaching cold northern, creating a form of perpetual super hurricane that lasted months.
He'd seen the storms approach many times in his life, he'd experienced the storms as well. In his younger years he had wondered if it ever stopped raining, with every visit, a constant unending deluge of both frigid and warm rain would suffocate the streets and sidewalks. To their credit though, the citizens of Vale never seemed to be bothered by the downpour.
'Tough bastards, for humans.' He remembered his father once saying, surprising even his mother with the remark.
The thunderous crack of lightning woke him from his thoughts, as his caramel eyes focused on the beast that stalked the horizons for as far as he could see.
Volcanic black clouds engulfed the horizon, blanketing the vicious rolling waves beneath in near their pitch black shadows, the occasional flash of the the storms claws would briefly illuminate the coming onslaught in an eerie red glow, an imposing and booming roar escaping the dark predator close behind it's fearsome claws.
Fennec had never seen such a storm, nor heard of one, but what worried him and the other citizens the most, is that it stumped even the most brilliant minds around the world.
"Brother?" His siblings voice chirped through his radio.
"What is it?"
"We've found the containers at the south end, we'll meet you at the east gate after we get the loot."
"Got it, see you in five."
He glanced at the dockmaster's tiny building, as if making sure it hadn't moved when he'd been lost in his thoughts.
Five minutes, should be enough to smoke one real quick. He thought to himself.
He pulled a small wood box from his jacket and popped it open.
"Atlesian Cigars." Came a voice.
He spun around, shutting the box as he scanned his surroundings.
"Y'know those are some of the best on the market." The voice called out.
As he glanced around him, his eyes caught a glimmer of something strange between two nearby containers.
A small flame, flickering proudly in the darkness.
His eyes remained fixated on the light as it extinguished, then reignited with a faint click.
A lighter. He realized.
Then he noticed something that made his blood pressure sky rocket. The light was slowly getting closer, accompanied by the clicks of boots.
"You see, they do this really cool shit with it." It was obvious now the voice came from whoever held the lighter.
"They take about a gram of ice dust, and half a gram of fire dust, and they infuse the tobacco with it."
He felt himself unconsciously begin reaching for his weapon as the voice got closer.
"Then, they infuse half a gram of electric dust into this leather that they soak in bourbon for three days, and bake dry."
Red light flashed across the dock, revealing the stranger for a split second.
No, please no, we were careful! He begged.
"And those happen to be." The voice paused.
The figure stepped into the moons light, his fire-orange hair slightly reflecting it. A pair of Green eyes shimmered as they glared venom into his soul.
"Please, let us go and I'll give you the cigars, I'll call off my guys, I'll get a real job, anything, just let us live." Fennec stammered pleadingly.
The man grimaced. "You trash are all the same. I don't do bargains." He growled.
His toothy grin shattered as a once long forgotten pain consumed him. Hot tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. His strength left him instantly and he quickly found himself on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Fennec!" He wailed.
"Corsac, what the fuck's wrong?!"
"Fennec." He choked out. "He's gone."
"What do you mean gone?"
"He means gone." A voice called out.
In the agonizing pain of loss, Corsac found himself only able to watch as a man with green eyes and orange hair slaughtered his friends.
He knew he was next, and he knew he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Every criminal knew it. If you aren't careful, he will show up. And if he does, there is no escape, there is only death.
He sighed, grimacing at his handiwork. There was no hatred in his eyes, not for his victims, only remorse and regret. This was his task, and he couldn't escape it.
As his adrenaline burned away, a dull ache grew in his shoulder. He pulled his shirt aside and sighed.
"Are we thankful we aren't wearing white anymore yet?" Her voice asked.
"I wouldn't consider it thankful."
"What would you consider it?"
He pondered it a moment, a faint smirk growing. "Faint toleration with an underlying hint of anger."
She was silent a moment. "Come home, I have needs of your other talents."
"Yes Mistress." He complied irritably.
As she broke her connection she roared in anger, slamming her fist upon her chair. "I've given him everything he's asked for! Why does he still resist me!?"
Her head fell into her hands and she rubbed her temples, letting her mind and emotions cool. Then a realization hit her. "Of course. Her." She hissed. Her blood boiled momentarily at the thought of Beacon's newest professor. "If she dies, he will be mine. Truly mine." She grinned. "I will have your head-"
"- Professor Cinder Fall, report to my office." Glynda's booming voice said over the schools loudspeakers.
She sighed and looked to her class, a forced smile failing at concealing her temper.
"Professor Fall, does this mean we won't be doing the exam?" One of her students, a young blonde boy who reminded her of a camp counselor, asked.
"No Jaune, we won't be. Please pack your things, class is dismissed for today." She announced through gritted teeth.
She grabbed her personal effects and left quickly, passing through the main hall, finding it be filled with quite a few more students than usual.
Her eyes skimmed through the swaths of students as she strode through, her eyes stopping on a white Atlesian coat in the elevator, her blood pressure rising.
The pain had returned, the unmistakably familiar white hot intensity of the Grimm's fangs buried deep in his shoulder as it tore his arm from the socket with its immense claws. Anyone else would have collapsed in agony, screaming and convulsing, but James Ironwood had lived with this pain for fifty years. His doctor and shrink called it "Phantom Limb", to him it was an all too real hell. For the first few months he'd scream and thrash in his sleep as he'd relive the nightmare over and over again, every night losing his arm again, every night falling deeper into despair. The prosthetic didn't help either, bringing only memories of what once had been. His depression grew more with every day, spreading like a tumor. Eventually his wife left him, taking their son with her. He'd lose them again months later when a drunk driver careened off the road, killing their son instantly, his wife being left to bleed out in the street before help could arrive.
He gently caressed the aching metal, his eyes resting on his wedding ring. He'd never taken it off, Ozpin swore it couldn't be healthy, but what did he know?
A deep sigh rolled through him as his thoughts drifted to the man he considered family.
He smiled as the memory of their first meeting came to mind. That smile faltered when a slender hand stopped the elevator's doors.
"James, could you open the door?" A familiar voice requested.
He clicked the button, his smile returning as he recognized Cinder Fall.
" , wonderful to see you again." He said heartily.
She chuckled, "Same to you, what's it been? A week?" She half joked.
"Sadly not even half." He sighed.
Her smile faded to a grimace as she sighted the approaching maelstrom.
"It's a peculiar one isn't it?" He asked softly.
"Peculiar doesn't even begin to describe it. First our usual storm drops off the radar, then this fucking thing appears a thousand miles south. Even stranger it crossed the ocean in two days and just stops a few miles off the harbor."
"Not to mention the effect it's had on the Grimm." James added.
She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. "What effect?"
"Glynda hasn't told you?"
She shook her head in response.
"They're getting bolder around the mountains, it even seems some of the more secluded of the beast have traveled here. It's almost like they're planning something."
Her eyes narrowed as she turned to the glass. "But what?"
Glynda barely glanced as they strode in, her eyes focused on the holographic screens that adorned her desk. Beside her was Leo Lionheart, an ancient man who's fantastical hair resembled that of his namesake, a thick and well combed beard completing the ensemble, but despite his outwardly stoic and intimidating appearance, Cinder had come to find the man was every bit a coward as one would consider a worm to be, though in her opinion a worm displayed more bravery than Haven's headmaster.
"Take a seat." Glynda told them, her tone harsh.
The screens enlarged and glided to the center of the room, the morning news paused, it's tagline reading "Eight men found brutally murdered in East Wharf".
"He's struck again." Glynda announced.
"How are we so sure?" Ironwood asked. "It could have been a gangwar."
"Initially the police believed so too, until little over an hour ago when detective Schnee paid me a visit."
"Schnee? So is Branwen here too?" Cinder asked, half joking.
"Why yes I am." A rough voice replied. The tall figure of Qrow Branwen stalked into the room, the pale, slender, figure of Detective "Schnee" following close behind.
"Detectives, if you will, inform my associates of what you found."
Winter held out two tan envelopes for Cinder and James, bold red letters reading "Confidential" adorning their front faces.
Qrow cleared his throat and began, "As you know for the past four months, someone has been killing criminals. At first we assumed gang violence, as the victims were all members of the local racially insensitive, violent, and drug based gangs. We ran with our assumption, attempting to meet with a few well known gang's representatives, each turning us down till we got to the Blue Fangs. We set up a deal with their leader Tuckson. The night before we got to speak with him though, he and his entire gang were killed in an explosion on forty fourth street."
"Which you guys called a gas leak." Cinder commented.
"Turns out it wasn't. Forensics found what we've linked the killings to. Atlesian Cigars. As we know these are a popular kind around Vale, with all the bigwigs smoking up their offices with the damned cancer tubes, so on their own we can't exactly build a case. But last night, whoever this guy is got sloppy. We captured a still image of him."
Cinder pulled the image from the folder and her blood ran cold.
"We're going to try and use facial recognition to identify h-" The sound of papers slapping the floor interrupted him.
All eyes landed on Cinder who had gone ghostly white, tears welling in her eyes.
"Cinder?" Glynda hurriedly stood and moved to the young professor.
"Glynda it's him." Cinder choked.
"Who?"
"Roman."
The man in the image glared down at young faunus. A thick beard adorned his face, thinning to light stubble as it met his hair, short and spiked forward. His eyes a piercing green. A form fitting black shirt covered by a thin vest replaced his white coat, making him appear like some sort of action hero, but despite his new "style" the man was undoubtedly the man she had buried a year prior. Roman Torchwick had returned, a Dead Man Walking.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter everyone, leave your feedback below, I hope to get the next chapter out within the new two weeks, maybe three, till then enjoy.