Volume CRBN!

by Dancesnapple

Four individuals. Four different people of different walks of life resulting in an adventure. Hopefully, a bond that can last. Team CRBN (carbon). Features: OC Main character, main team has two OCs alongside a lovable crime duo, and some family drama on all sides. Features a 'soundtrack' element for the fic. ENJOY! Story begins on third listed chapter. Very slow start.

3. 1 Tear in the Ties

Chapter One: A Tear In The Ties

24 Years before The Day

"Legends. Stories scattered through time. Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts, of a forgotten past."

A female voice narrates. Her speech slowed, carrying meaning to each spoken word. A very slight but noticeable Southern drawl. The words appear, written upon the slightly tinged yellow pages of a book. A slender white hand tracks the words within the written page.

"Man, born from dust, was strong, wise, and resourceful, but he was born into an unforgiving world. An inevitable darkness — creatures of destruction — the creatures of Grimm - set their sights on man and all of his creations. These forces clashed, and it seemed the darkness was intent on returning man's brief existence to the void."

Over the ridge of the book shows a bright blue rug, center of a hard wood floor. The room has beige walls with book shelves, tables lining the walls littered with bags, papers... school supplies? Upon the blue rug sits twelve children, ages varying from pre school to junior high age. The children are clean, but clothes are worn, particularly the older ones with stains on parts of their clothing. In the room, an adult female sits on a tall stool, the book obscuring her face.

"However, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man's passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. This power was appropriately named 'Dust'."

The older children appear checked out from the story. Many looking at nothing in particular, eyes unfocused. One sits with knees up and arms wrapped to hug her legs in. The younger children watch on in more interest. However, one young boy, one of the eldest, sits furthest away. A scowl forms on his face as he looks away from the story teller.

"Nature's wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness, and in the shadow's absence came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life."

"Tch" The scowling child lets out with a scoff. His eyes narrow, still staring at nothing. His hand clenches into a fist. The speaker's eyes glance over the book, a brilliant bright blue. Her eye brows are light, almost blonde. A few tiny specks of freckles mar the white skin under the eyes. Her eyes clearly display a single emotion, sadness.

"But even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone... darkness will return."

The woman's eyes remain locked on the boy over the top of the book. Her hands cease following the words. The book lowers, showing her fully. Her bangs frame her face from both sides, a deep saturated crimson. The rest of her hair is pulled into a ponytail. The left bangs for the left head frame are longer than the right.

"So you may prepare your guardians, build your monuments to a so-called 'free world', but take heed... there will be no victory in strength."

She folds the corner of the page, closing the book titled 'Bygone Fables'. Her outfit from the bottom up is a pair of brown shoes, black leggings disappearing into a knee length blue skirt, then a red and black plaid button up, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She continues to look at the brown haired boy.

"But perhaps victory is in the simpler things that you've long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul." The woman finishes, lips curling into a small smile. Her eyes are soft, inviting, as she looks between the children. "That passage begins the book, meant to bring one into the mind set for the stories to come."

She rises from the stool, walking to a table behind her as she sets the book on it. "It speaks of the importance of myths. The meaning behind the way things are the way they are." She smiles at the children before her, a brow raising. "And can even inspire, or carry one through hard times."

The boy grunts, turning his head slightly more, glaring at the wall. The woman's smile drops as she looks at the clock on the wall. 2:30. She smiles back at them. "Next time, I'll have copies of the book ready for personal reading. I'll expect an opinion on at least one story once we start getting into the readings." She brightens further. "With that, we're done for the day! Take care!"

The children reciprocate the smiles, getting up and leaving. Although, the older children lose their smiles as soon as they turn to leave. The boy snaps to his feet, preparing to walk out, but the woman speaks up. "Taylor, could I speak with you for a moment?"

The boy pauses, turning back with a scowl, but also nervous. "Uh, I don't really have time, Miss Maxwell." He gives a forced smile and a wave. "Ya know, gotta get to work and-"

The woman's eyes narrow, stern. Her voice dips. "You have plenty of time. Don't act like I don't know how long it takes to walk four streets over."

The boy halts mid step, frozen in place at the stern tone. He groans, turning back to her with his head down. "What?" His tone was defeated.

Maxwell looks at him with a kind smile. "I noticed how you were during that passage. I haven't seen you look so ready to punch something all day." She let out as if it was a joke. Although, given the boy's tightness in his face, he might actually be ready to do so. "Did you have thoughts on the reading? I'd love to hear them?"

Taylor rocks his head back and forth, working up the nerve to speak. Unfortunately, the way he does so is with anger as he snaps. "It's stupid! That passage didn't know anything at all!"

Despite his outburst, Miss Maxwell remained passive, nodding. "Go on." She said after he stopped, as if that was the end of the conversation.

He groans. "That crap about people unifying and preserving life. It's complete bull! I mean, you can't honestly believe that people help each other like that?"

Maxwell nods. "And what makes you believe that they don't?"

The boy looks at her, almost like she'd grown another head. His hand snaps towards the nearest window. "Here! Where we are!" He groans, head whipping around, loosening up. "No person helps out of the goodness of there heart in this trash town." He scoffs. "Fairmare. This place is anything but fair. Just a grubby little mining town that gets stepped on by those running the place." He looks at the woman with burning eyes, filled with anger. "Doctor says my dad might lose his hand if he keeps working, but he isn't allowed to stop! Where's the good will there? The 'life' that pretty little book talks about?"

Miss Maxwell glances into empty space nearby, a barely noticeable nod, as if considering what he's asking. Her expression is blank, eyes half lidded. "I wouldn't go that far. What of the academies? The four kingdoms that protect mankind from Grimm? What of me?" That got the boy to flinch, looking at her as she meets his eyes again. "Despite what you believe you're seeing, people around you ARE helping out of good will, Taylor." Her expression softens with a smile. "You've barely seen the world. Don't let the negativity happening now taint your entire world view."

The boy's mouth clamps shut at that. Taking a second, he still scoffs. "Yeah... Huntsmen and Huntresses. Sitting pretty at the city of Vale and Beacon." He scowls at the wall, not willing to meet her eyes. "Building up those perfect pretty places and dreams for people who can achieve it." He takes a deep breath, finally looking at her. "While my family works slave work in the mines, my father about to be in literal need of a hand."

He grunts, turning to walk away. He reaches the doorway, turning back to glance at her. His expression softens. "Sorry, Miss Maxwell. I'll see you tomorrow."

He disappears out the door, leaving the teacher in the room alone. Her eyes close, taking a calming breath, turning into a sigh. Thoroughly sure she was alone, she aloud her thoughts to be spoken aloud. "That should change shortly, Taylor. Just hold on."

Minutes later, a blue door to a white painted wooden building opens. Miss Maxwell exiting. She turns and locks the door with a key. The words 'Fairmare Daycare' are listed on a large sign, with smaller letters etched into the wood after saying 'and school'.

She walks from the wooden porch and steps into a dirt road. Wooden box buildings, most brown and shades of gray, line the streets. She walks to the center of the street, carrying a small basket in her right hand. She shields her eyes from the sun, looking up into the sky.

Looming over the town is a large mountain, must be 15,000 feat tall. Its peaks are barren, but the majority is covered in green growth and forest trees, much like the area surrounding the town. Rich forests just like most of the Kingdom of Vale. Quite small to her vision, about half way up the mountain is a gray metal building. A landing pad for bullhead transports. Only about one a week ever comes, and she sees one in the sky approaching. Usually a delivery, but she can only hope...

No time for that. She doesn't want to take after her students and be late. She starts walking down the road, off to her second job.

. . .

The hiss of dying engines rings as a man clad in gray waves on. The bullhead transport edges down, its landing legs touching down. The man and the pilot nod to one another, allowing the pilot to kill the engines fully. With a metallic clang, the airship opens, the exit ramp extending down to the ground.

After a moment, the pilot comes out, a smirk on while he's clad in brown. The gray suited landing coordinator tilts his head back, surprised. "Whoa now. Don't look so happy to be in this dung heap of a town. What's got you spitting rainbows?"

The pilot, rather older, grins and chuckles. "Oh, nothing. I'm just happy to have a passenger instead of 'store supplies' for once." He says while air quoting those two key words.

The coordinator looks at the bullhead in shock before turning to him, eyes wide. He furiously whispers. "Are you nuts? There's not supposed to be people coming into town!"

The elder pilot waves him off. "Guy was pleasant company. Good for conversation. Says he's here to visit a relative." His voice raises as he yells. "Hey! We've landed fine, you can exit!"

The coordinator clams up, unsure of this development. He looks at the transport as its passenger steps out. The younger man exits the bullhead, slowly walking towards the edge of the platform to look over the rather small town of Fairmare. Brown dress shoes, black dress pants, brown belt, a forest green button up shirt with a black suit vest. Around the neck is a forest green scarf. In the man's hand is a black cane, an ornate silver handle with an odd hand guard. The man's silver hair wasn't unkempt, but had stray locks every so often, down to his shoulders. He also had tinted glasses and golden amber eyes.

The man seems satisfied when he steps away from the edge, moving towards the coordinator. "Ah, good evening." He says with a ghost of a smile. Oddly serene. "Perhaps you would help me with something."

The coordinator nods, forcing some customer service with a nervous smile for the well spoken man. "N-not a problem. Welcome to Fairmare! What do you need?"

The strange man smiled ever so slightly, an aloof nature to him. "I was hoping you could give me directions to the Mare's Share Tavern, please."

. . .

A door swings open, rattling a bell for a single loud chime. The silver haired man enters a large serving area. Two large windows on either side of the door allowed a great deal of light to enter the tavern. Short round tables with two seats apiece litter the open space, save for booths lining along the far and right walls. One entire left side of the place is a bar, bottles lining shelves on the wall.

The place was only entertaining four men. Expected for only 3:30 in the afternoon. The three gentleman speaking to each other in the booths must have just left a shift at work. Although, with eagle eyed perception, one would notice the obscene amount of scars covering their hands and arms. The man takes notice of this. The one other individual sits at a lone table, staring at the television in the corner showing a program from the next town... 72 miles away. This man was clearly either an alcoholic based on the tall empty mug in front of him or a town official who thinks little of his post considering his uniform.

The silver haired man casual walks to the bar, taking a seat and placing his hands in front of him. He waits politely as the bartender turns around. A faunus, a man in brown clothes with rabbit ears, gray hair. "Welcome to Mare's Share. What can I do ya for?"

The man responds simply. "A house blend coffee for now, please." The Bartender quickly sets about getting a mug and filling it.

"Can only serve it black until the new shipment gets distributed. No sugar or additives available." The bartender speaks as he places the filled mug in front of the stranger. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

The silver haired man smiles ever so slightly. "Not at all. That's how I take it anyway." He picks up the steaming mug, taking a cautious sip. Glancing at the bartender, he continues. "You shouldn't be out of luck long. I arrived here with the new shipments just barely an hour ago."

The bartender pauses, blinking. While turned away, the faunus mumbles. "Yeah, we'll get scraps tomorrow." He forces a smile, going back into service mode. "Is that so? Good!"

Unfortunately, the man seemed to focus on the faunus now. Did he hear that? He must have ears like a bat! The faunus blinks a few times awkwardly, forcing a smile. "Is there a problem sir?"

The man takes another sip, refocusing his attention to the television screen. "More a curiosity." He gives a small smile, a light jesting nature in his eyes as he speaks. "I'm laughing at the thought that the bartender of the 'Mare's Share' turns out to be a 'hare' so to speak."

The bartender blinks, his rabbit ears twitch as he lets out a shaky laugh. "Usually when I hear that there's more shouting and slurs. Not just as a pun."

The gentleman frowns lightly. "Ah, people being uncivil can be a problem anywhere."

The bartender smiles back, more genuine. He liked this guy. Odd, but friendly. "What brings you here, stranger?"

"Ah, just visiting a relative. I was sure that they worked here today and hoped to surprise them." The man ratted off easily.

The bartender's brows raised with that. "You're related to-"

At that moment, the door behind the bar leading to the back kitchens opens. From it, Miss Maxwell steps out, an apron added over her clothes. She appears to be re-tying her ponytail hair band. "Sorry, I'm late Dominic." She fast steps in a rush, looking at the bottles in the back, taking inventory.

Dominic, the bartender, chuckles. "You're actually fifteen minutes early, Nessie." He nods his head to the clock, showing 3:45 with the hands. "Buuut since I had to open half an hour early today, you mind starting your shift now? You can even close up fifteen minutes early tonight."

Maxwell blinks a few times, looking at the clock. She then looks at a silver watch on her hand. "Ah, this thing is fast again!" She shakes her head, sighing with a smile. "Yeah, no problem. Any problems with the usual ones?"

Dominic shakes his head before nodding his head towards the silver haired man. "No, but I wasn't aware you had relatives."

That made her jerk her head around to the faunus. "Say what?" She follows his gesture and makes eye contact with the silver haired man.

Said man smiles back. "Why, hello there, 'Nessie'." It was subtle, but she caught that he was using that name solely because Dominic just did. It sounded almost completely genuine. Or maybe she's only noticing because she's never seen this man before in her life.

Her eyes widen in realization. She smiles. "H-hey! It's been a long time." She turns back to Dominic, a nervous sweat coming on. "Yeah, I got the place on cover. If it gets busy, I'll call Terry."

Dominic smiles, nodding. "Thank you!" He turns to the man at the bar. "And it was great speaking to you Mr..."

"Franklin Baum." The silver haired man nods to him. "Good meeting you, Dominic."

Maxwell and the stranger meet eyes, a short stare down as Dominic happily exits the bar. Maxwell swallows thickly as she moves towards him, a smile coming on. She has an idea, but she needs to confirm it. If only-

The man speaks up, holding up his now empty mug. "I'd like a new drink. Think I've had enough of just coffee."

She places both hands on the counter, leaning forward, ready to serve. "What can I get for you?"

He holds eye contact. "I'll take a Dusty Rum Blood if you don't mind."

Her breath stops, eyes widening just a bit. It's real. It's real! A response! Wait, what was she supposed to actually make when asked this? She coughs, unsure how many seconds just passed after he asked that. "R-right! I haven't made that in a while, I apologize." She turns away towards the bottles along the wall.

The man smiles. "If you have an issue with ingredients, I understand, given what Dominic said earlier."

Ah, a way out. Thank god he's playing along. She puts a show of examining some bottles before responding in a faux confidence. "Yeah, we don't have the ingredients for it." She gives a regretful look, though her eyes are way too happy. "Sorry, sir."

The man nods. "It's no problem at all. Though I believe the gentlemen at the booths require your attention more than me."

Maxwell blinks with a blank look, turning towards the booth to see all their drinks empty. She gives a shaky smile. "Right. I'll be right back." And she sets about serving the other patrons of the tavern.

. . .

Hours had passed. Patrons entered and exited the tavern, many workers with a few too many scars and unbandaged injuries. Despite this, the faces were merry, many were smiling when served by Maxwell. She went about her shift dutifully, working tirelessly. She had a spring in her step now.

Granted, the reason for this simply enjoyed the company of the people in the corner of the bar the whole time. The strange silver haired man still sat there. It was a week day, so the tavern was setting about closing at an early hour, about 11 p.m.

Everyone was merry and went home to rest for the night. The starry sky held over as Maxwell locked the front of the bar. Her 'relative' stood politely out front. With the tavern closed, Miss Maxwell begins walking, the man walking with her. To anyone else, it's a visiting relative walking to the other's home.

However, it couldn't be more wrong. That's why Maxwell is smiling. The man comments off hand walking the dimly lit road. "You make this walk home this late often?"

Maxwell lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah. Streets are fairly safe most of the time..."

The man frowns at that, but his voice carries no ill feelings. "Fairmare... One of the only mining towns not owned by the SDC if I'm not mistaken. I would imagine you'd have a booming town with the right export system and owners."

Maxwell sighs. "Yeah... the right owners is the key word, isn't it."

The man nods. "Especially with the rate of work in the town, one would think the exports would be quite high." He looks as if in thought, but she can tell he's had these questions lined up all day. "Yet, there's next to no listed exports for this town. Barely enough to stock a single dust shop in the corner of Vale."

Maxwell nods. Her eyes scan the areas. They seemed alone, but she can't be sure... Wait, if this guy is who she thinks he is, he wouldn't speak so candidly about private information. Her voice falls near silent. "It's difficult to prosper with the wrong people in charge."

His voice drops just as much, yet still comes off warm. "A true statement if ever I heard one, 'Nessie'."

She chokes in surprise, not expecting the nickname. She groans. "... Vanessa Maxwell. I'm called Nessie for an... angry outburst a few years ago." She chuckles weakly, one hand coming up and scratching the back of her head awkwardly.

The man nods. "Given your disposition, I can't imagine something being bad enough to make you angry, Miss Maxwell." He finishes with a smile.

. . .

A quaint small home, the door opening as Maxwell and the man enter. It's a living room leading to a kitchenette, a small counter with two chairs. They move to it and sit down, Vanessa sighing as she places her hand held basket on the stove.

The man seems to just admire the home. Messy. The cough of the living room had tears in it. Some clothes were strewn about in off places. He looks around, finding- is that unde- "AH!" Maxwell gasps as she sprints over and gathers dirty clothes, getting them together and out of the room.

A moment later and she's seated again, this time with a burning blush. The man smiles. "I take it visitors are a rarity?"

She squirms under his question. "Yeah... Sorry."

He chuckles. "Don't be. I'm sorry to impose." He sits with his arms on the table, fingers laced as he awaits her to start.

She gets her breathing under control, looking him in the eye. "You're a huntsman?"

His eyes have a sharpness, only a light of jest left in. His nods, reaching down and withdrawing a paper from his pocket. He places it on the table and politely pushes it towards her. She looks at it, eyeing it from the first statement.

She looks up, eyes wide, as she smiles. "This is the mission request I sent!" He lets out a disbelieving laugh as she looks at the paper. "Yes! YES!" She cheers, a broad beautiful smile on her face. She gives him her full attention, seeing his own small proud smile. She shakes her head, speaking too quickly. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" She shakes with excitement. "Where's the rest of your team?"

… That's when the man's face shows the first sign of confusion. "Pardon?"

"You hunters act in teams of four, right?" She speaks, moving about her small home and looking out the windows. "What? Are they scouting the town out or already getting to work?"

The man, now alone at the counter, has a blank look. "I would say neither, considering I'm here alone."

All happy energy coming from the woman stops as she trips on the corner of a coffee table by the couch. She falls over onto the couch, landing with a yelp. She snaps up, staring at him with utter confusion. "What?! Just you?" He nods. "Why..?" She slowly drawls out.

He merely blinks. "Well, the amount of money you sent with the letter only covered a solo mission's pay is why." No talking down. No arrogance. It was a plain educating statement.

Her mouth drops. The only sound is a small high pitch squeak as she tries to speak. She shakes that off and says in shock. "That was three months pay..."

The man's own eyes widen slightly, then narrow. "I apologize, Miss Maxwell, but requests are processed by urgent information provided, pay, and population of people affected by the problem. Your request..." He looks over his shoulder to the counter. "Merely stated that there was a problem with the town, and held a... rather meager pay. No details about the danger and what it could mean."

Her teeth clench. She shows the first signs of anger since he's met her. She glares hatefully, stepping towards him. "I couldn't risk them opening my package, so I was vague about what I was sending and what I was asking for... If they opened it and traced it to me, I'd at least be able to deny it initially and maybe skip town..."

The man nods quickly. "A sound point, unfortunate circumstances aside. Perhaps, you could provide that information now?" His voice lifted, smile slightly awkward as he offered his help regardless.

She looks him up and down, seeing that he's slightly off from that. He IS a huntsman. He thinks he can help by himself, and he's kind of cute... She blushes as she nods. Her eye twitches from anger at three months pay only getting ONE person. "Right."

A few minutes pass as she settles back into the chair, now with a drink in hand. She hands a mug of hot coffee to him. He accepts with a smile, having regained his mastered composure of the situation. So, being overly dramatic and angry threw him off. She smiles a little at him. He's just a touch socially awkward. JUST a touch.

"So." His voice, now fully serious despite his previous friendly disposition, begins. "Start from the beginning. What's happening?" With that, she began to debrief him.

About two years ago, a group of five men from Mistral arrived to town. They made the claim that they were inheriting the estates as relatives of the town's most prominent business owner and mayor... the owner of the Fairmare dust mine.

The mayor/business owner was generally kind, but inexperienced. He had made bad decisions in exporting, but was a good and kind lawman enough to keep the town happy and supplied. He had died mysteriously just a week before these men appeared. It wasn't until a few months passed that the townspeople suspected that these men actually caused the death.

The men used the dust in the town and business to take control of all exports, selling product to... who knows anymore. One moment, things were just weird. The next, entire groups of men from Mistral arrived. Ruffians. Given their disposition, they may have been bandits. One person showed up saying the name 'Branwen' once, and the thugs were on alert for weeks, brutalizing anyone attempting to leave.

Now, the townspeople couldn't leave. No new visitors arrived. Money and supplies came in, just enough to keep the people alive. Sure, Grimm were held off by the town's new 'protectors', but said 'protectors' were now a number of forty five thugs who were the only people with weapons.

The people were taxed, and the town's chief business became a slave business. If someone quit the mines, bad things would happen to them. If someone refused to answer a mine job offer, bad things happened to them.

In short, property ownership be damned. Someone needs to stop these bandits. These inhumane monsters. With that, she gave the name of the ringleader: Meren Zann. He currently lived in the old mayor's manor up on the mountain. A light skinned man with straight shoulder length gray hair, a scar over his nose, who wears a fur jacket. He typically walks with a sawed off shotgun at his side.

His main enforcer is a bird faunus. Tan skinned with a simple brown and black leather clothes. His slicked back hair actually with green hair follicles that morph into feathers. His fingers have talons, but he walks around with twin swords with thick blades. The man's name is Fenton.

No one was willing to do anything due to having something or someone to miss... that was until Maxwell's father passed away in a mine collapse six months ago. Since then, Vanessa Maxwell worked and applied three months of her pay towards hiring a huntsman to rid the town of these heathens. She'd sent that letter three months ago, with instructions to come to the town's tavern and order a Dusty Rum Blood and talk about the problems.

"That's everything..." She ends, trailing off. She hazards a glance at the man across from her. "That's why I was hoping for a full squad to get in here and clear these people out." She adds softly.

The man considers her words, mulling something over. "I see. Forty five Mistralli bandits including the ringleader and second in command. All at least moderately armed in regards to law enforcement. That sound correct?"

She nods. "Yes! So could you please call for help and get the cavalry?"

The man raises a brow. "Miss Maxwell."

The two sit in silence for a moment. She realizes that he's using a teaching tactic. Saying a name and waiting for a response like with a child. "Yes?" She lets out slowly.

Her answer was a genuine smile from him. "The problem will be dealt with. You have my word."

And she believed him.

. . .

He'd spent the next four days scouting the town. People asked about him, and he spent a good amount of time conversing with people at the tavern. To everyone, he was Franklin Baum, but Maxwell had a great hunch that that name was fake.

She went through life as usual, using the cover story that he was a cousin from Mantle, coming to visit her for his first vacation in years. He slept on her couch, put up with the bad conditions of the place without a single complaint.

Hell, his only request for comfort was a coffee whenever he came to the Mare's Share. They spoke often enough. She had just one thing to say. HE WAS SO NICE! The more he spoke to her, the more she worried how he could possibly solve all this himself.

That was until Saturday. It was the evening. Given how late the tavern would be open today, Maxwell would be going in at a later hour, not to be back until early morning. She was finishing getting her things together at the counter when the man walked in from the door. She'd shown him where the spare key was, just in case.

On the counter was some of her teaching supplies. On it was the book, Bygone Fables. The man notices, a smirk playing at him. "Ah! My favorite book."

Maxwell paused in finishing her hair to look at him. He now holds the book, admiring it. She smiles. "I've been using that book to teach reading for the children at the daycare." Her smile turns sad. "Some have strong opinions against it."

He nods, looking it over. "I believe that simply knowing the tales is a benefit in itself. Some will want to ignore such things, but so long as they know it, they may one day rethink their opinion."

She smiles wider at that. "Yeah. It was written by former Beacon headmaster Ozma. She really knew her history." She then beams at him, eyes wide with excitement. "I mean, filling in historical anecdotes about each tale's influence on regions and their laws. That's rare knowledge to have, but it's important!"

The man's smile looked as if it grew three sizes. A small blush adorned his cheeks, but maybe it was the lighting. "It's rare to hear others have that opinion."

She laughs, leaning over the counter, looking at him expecting. "So, tell me?"

His face goes blank. "Pardon?"

She grins. "What's your favorite fairy tale?"

He lets out a chuckle at that. "Why, Miss Maxwell, isn't it common courtesy to give your own stance before demanding another to explain theirs?"

Oh, is he being coy? She beams. "The silver eyed warrior. No question." She gaze trailed off to the wall, as if lost in nostalgia. "The very thought that, despite all the terrors out there, there would be someone else willing to help. Someone who could make everything better. It made me want to protect people." She grins, teeth showing. "It's why I wanted to become a teacher." She then looks back at him. "So, yours?"

He smiled brightly at her, nodding. "The tale of four maidens." He explained no further as he moved towards the door.

She had been expecting more, being left stunned. "Whoa whoa, you can't just give an answer and not define it!" She rushes after him, catching him at the door. "Where's the rush?"

His smile vanishes. "I've learned a few.. illegitimate buyers of the dust mine's product. I've gotten enough information from scouting, so tonight... I'm acting." He ends with a small smirk.

Her mouth drops a second, all teasing and happy conversation gone. "Will you be okay?"

He meets her eyes evenly. "Miss Maxwell." He pauses for clarity. "What will come next will be a trial of character. However, no matter what, know that by this time tomorrow, all will be said and done." He smiles. "I promise."

He turns and moves to the door, opening it. "Oh, and when we meet next." He turns to her. "I'll tell you about some fairy tales not found in that book."

He exited the building with a small smile, but she exited soon after with a face splitting grin.

. . .

It was now late at night. A large manor up ahead. The three story building looked to have perhaps 20 odd rooms. Rather small, but expected. It had brown walls and a black roof. A small awning extended over the door with ornate carved wooden columns supporting it. The dirt path leading to the manor lead through a gate with a brick fence surrounding the property.

The silver haired man lands silently on the corner of the brick fence wall. He looks around the perch, seeing absolutely no one around. Eerie. Lightly, he hops off the fence to the grass. He begins walking cautiously towards the building, leaning his back onto the side.

Weird. He'd been here twelve times at varying points of time over the last couple days. At no point was there not a single guard patrolling the place. Even lazily. The man's gaze narrows and closes. He listens, faintly hearing sound from inside. Too quiet to tell what, exactly.

He moves around the house to the back, looking to a window on the tallest floor. It's open. Another raised brow. Previously, a number of the windows had been opened, airing out something from within the compound. Presumably fumes from some other operation going on inside the manor no one was aware of. Now, only this room, which was certainly a bedroom.

Well, curiosity may have killed the cat, but he's not a cat faunus.

He crouches slightly before leaping from the ground up to the third floor window. Just barely reaching the window, he smoothly steps onto the window seal. He looks into the room.

Bed? Check. Dressers? Check. Some items of personal value? Check. It was well decorated, but looked rarely used. So, the man enters the room. He steps lightly, looking within every nook and cranny quickly.

Within one of the dresser drawers, he finds a journal. Opening it up, there appears to be formulas and... dosages? He looks through, flipping from page to page of information. Whoever this was, they were part of a drug cartel. A drug that was infused with dust it looked like. A list of side effects:

Lightning dust stimulates the nerves. Makes user sensitive. Best sold to users that would have high libido.

Fire dust makes user burn up with energy. Always sell to competitive users. May burn and damage internal organs. Do not use yourself.

Ice dust chills the body and slows yourself. Good for a trip. Conveniently lowers fevers. Keep some for self use.

White dust is a wild ride, but results in death rate upon first use. Sell to problem customers.

The notes go on and on with similar musings. The man's eyes narrow as he takes the small journal and stows it under his vest, a hidden pocket within. He moves towards the door, listening once again.

The sounds are sharper. He can make out the sound of boiling liquid, steam. There's the sound of a television set, some documentary about animals who most closely resemble Grimm. There's the sound of fans, though he can tell that the air conditioning is on. He can hear the vent in this room going. Either someone is one of THOSE uncivilized people that use both or the fans must have a purpose.

He opens the door, entering a hardwood hallway, white walls. The walls have various paintings of landscapes. Beautiful artwork. He moves through along the hall, no noise coming from any of the doors. At this point, it's safe to say the second floor is either empty or has some silent sleepers.

He makes it to an ornate foyer, a staircase lining a wall leading to the first floor, where several archways lead to different rooms, and the front door is on the far wall. The man slowly steps down to the first floor. He silently moves to the center of the foyer, listening to each direction. He turns his back to the front door.

He has three directions: Left, he hears the television, not worth disturbing whoever is watching it. Right, silence. Forward, the sounds of boiling and fans.

Follow the sound. He moves forward into a dining room. Chairs and counters made of ornate carved wood decorated the room, a pathway to a kitchen further ahead. Curiously, the sounds were coming from behind a door in the corner of the dining area.

He steps to the door pressing his ear against it. The sounds are rather loud. Crackling sounds? A spare glance at the bottom of the door showed a very faint flow of steam. The man's eyes narrow. So, the drugs are made here, it seems. Hidden from the public.

He takes a moment to pull his scarf up, wrapping around and tying it in such a way that it covers and filers air for his mouth. Thankfully an application for the scarf's material. The door is opened, a wave of steam blowing out into the dining area. The man quickly steps in, shutting the door.

He moves down the dark steps into a large open basement. However, the steam was fairly thick. He could only make out the boiling product littered in beakers across a long wall long counter. Various boiling flasks had drip lines leading to the beakers. The flasks each had different colors... dust solutions, diluted and mixed with the chemical drug they've been adding.

He walks further into the room, finding only one person. The man's back was still to him, having a breathing mask on and a head wrap over his hair. The stranger wore a sewn mix of leather armor and a ceremonial black cloth. The stranger also didn't hesitate to speak.

"I see you finally decided to enter." The stranger places a vial in his hands down. He turns fully, revealing two swords strapped at his hips. "It's about time. We've been waiting for you to make your move for two days."

The silver haired man nods, hand on the top of his cane. "Mr Fenton I presume?"

The man huffs, hands moving to his swords. "Huntsman I presume?"

The silver haired man looks around Fenton, seemingly unfazed by the enemy enforcer. He puts a hand to his chin in thought, speaking through his scarf. "I'm rather impressed by some of the ingenuity of your setup. It is quite disappointing that this is the life style you chose. Given your reputation and skills, you would've made an excellent hunter."

Fenton slowly draws one of his swords, maintaining focus on the intruding hunter. "Ah, you see... I am a hunter of a sort, and you fell into our trap." His blade is six inches wide, two and a half feet long, half an inch thick. An absolute fusion of a single edge sword and a cleaver.

The silver haired man glances at him with an appraisal eye. "Any fight down here would result in both our deaths. Not exactly a favorable outcome for you."

Fenton huffed, unimpressed. "Hunters aren't the only ones with semblances." He raises his sword over the red dust drug vial on the counter by him. "My semblance allows lets me split myself in two locations for the low sacrifice of decreased strength and speed."

The man's eyes widen only slightly, but still remains mostly relaxed. "Ah, I see. That is useful information."

The bird faunus huffs. "Information... that you will not get to use." Fenton slashes his sword down into the vial, igniting the chemical and dust fumes in the entire basement. The flames set off all the vials, all the dust, as the explosion overtakes the silver haired huntsman.

. . .

Morning has come. The dawn lights wash over the town. Light passes through the curtains of Maxwell's house, drawing her form from sleep in her bed. Her eyes open with a smile on her face.

After half an hour, she sat at her kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in her hands. She had a small smile, but her eyes were hollow. The more she thought, the more she worried. However, simply thinking about him brought a small smile to her. Just something about him.

Her face washes in surprise as a hard knock beats onto her door. She snaps to attention, the mug of hot coffee splashing as she's forced to drop it onto the counter. "AH!" She gasps as she waves her hand in pain. She quickly runs cold water on the hand while wincing in pain.

The hard knock hits again.

She calls out. "Coming!" She dries her hand, sighing and shaking her head. She makes it to the door, unlocking it and opening it. She looks up, putting on a smile. "Yes-"

Her smile morphs to shock as a hand grabs her, wrenching her out from the open doorway...

. . .

Maxwell lands on a wooden stage, bright light of the sun beaming down on her. She winces in pain, on all fours, as she tries to get her bearings. She shakes her head, trying to get her bearings, only to look right up to the tip of a sword... Fenton standing over her.

She's on a massive wooden stage. This stage was used for town hall meetings, a massive empty yard before it allowing the full population of the town to be present for statements and important news.

And she was brought to it for only one reason.

Her breathing speeds up, but she manages a look around. The bandits are here. Six of them line the back of the stage. In the large yard in front of the stage, the rest of the townsfolk are brought forward. The remaining bandits all line around the crowd, some arriving with the stragglers of the town. She looks and sees Dominic in the crowd, a look of pure abject fear on his face. He was fearing for her.

She looked more, finding her students. Taylor looked up at her, just... confused. Just like each of her students. They were each worried, confused, and tearing up already. The fact that they were able to guess what must be happening was exactly why she was up here.

The huntsman failed, and she was going to be executed for sure. Publicly. A show of power and fear. At the very least, she had time to live until HE showed up. He has a knack for spending too much time with his business and being late for addressing them-

"Of all the people I expected, I have to say... I'm not surprised." The tired, uninterested voice called out. With in, a wave of chill over her. If he was here at the ready, that just meant he was well and truly furious.

Meren Zann, standing with his fur lined leather jacket, a tan shirt under it, with leather pants below it. His straight silver hair went passed his shoulders. A scar adorned his nose. In his right hand was his sawed off shotgun, held like a pistol in one hand.

The last of the village was pulled together as he seemed to be appraising the crowd. He took a deep breath, raising a mic up in his left hand. "Welcome, citizens... of my town." He begins immediately. "It has come to my attention that some people... are unsatisfied with the ship I run here." He raised his gun hand out, gesturing around him.

"Here, I felt we had come to an understanding." He said, feigning the sound of hurt. "Here, I provide for you. I give you security. I sustain you." He frowns, looking away from the crowd.

At that look, Fenton reaches and grabs Maxwell by her ponytail. He steps forward, dragging her with him. Her pained grunts garner gasps from the audience as Fenton holds her up by the hair. His sword hand brings the blade up to her chin. The woman's blue eyes are wide as she wonders, 'is this it?'

However, Fenton remains still, allowing Zann to continue. "About a week ago, this woman up here did something most heinous. She brought a stranger into this town. A stranger who poked his head into others privacy. A stranger she claimed was her relative."

At this, the people start gasping and giving strange looks to her. Taylor seemed to react in shock, clenching his teeth with wide eyes.

Zann then yells. "A stranger who invaded MY home, the home of your former mayor, and desecrated it! Burned it! DESTROYED it!"

Maxwell, as well as the crowd, look towards the mountain. Shock and surprise echoed as a small faint trail of smoke went into the sky from a location about half way up the peak.

Zann scoffed. "A stranger who was a menace. A menace that my esteemed associate here put down personally."

Her breathing stopped. So, he really did fail. He died, and now, so would she. Fenton turns her head to look at Zann. The corrupt bandit leader bores into her with a glare as he aims his hand held shotgun dead at her eyes. "And for those who bring unwanted trouble into this town, you get what you deserve."

So this is it. Her moment to go. If there was any satisfaction, it's that she tried. She tried to make this place, this world better. She is more than happy to die trying than to have given up. With her eyes closed, she waits for the moment.

Zann's finger pressures the trigger. "Good riddance to filth." He pulls the trigger... exactly when a rock strikes the back of his gun hand, jerking the gun just to the side of her head. The gun shot fires just by her ear, barely missing Fenton and another man on the far end of the stage.

Her ears ring as Maxwell jerks from the sound. She rubs her ear in pain, wincing as she opens her eyes. She realizes that she wasn't shot, but sound fails her. Only a high pitched ring sounds for a moment, fading slowly into a shocked and outraged crowd.

Zann, Fenton, and Maxwell glance at the crowd, reactions ranging from annoyed to bored to purely confused. Within the crowd, Taylor steps out, eyes teary, as he shouts out. "Leave her alone!"

The crowd now erupts in whispers and mutterings, tensions rising. Maxwell takes ten seconds to find her voice, shouting out. "Taylor, stay out of- AH!"

In a single motion, Fenton throws Maxwell onto her back and leaps up into the air. All shout and yelp in surprise as Fenton lands in the crowd, directly in front of the young boy. The boy flinches back, fear etching onto his face. However, Fenton is too quick, reaching out and grabbing the boy by the throat. He lifts Taylor up so that a full foot separates him from the ground.

Maxwell watches as she moves to stand, only for Zann to aim his gun back at her. Zann isn't facing her, but he eyes her from the corner of her eye. The whole population of the town tenses, no one moving. Zann scowls fiercely at the boy's direction. "Fen, bring him up here."

Fenton, still holding the boy up, leaps once more back onto the stage. Various shouts call out 'wait' 'stop' 'Taylor!' and 'please!' Fenton throws the boy onto Maxwell. The teacher catches the boy, wrapping her arms around him protectively while moving so she shields him from Zann's direction.

Zann's cruel stare continues to bore into her. "And more reason to get rid of the garbage." He speaks into his microphone. He turns to the crowd. "Not only does she bring civil unrest, she bestows it unto the impressionable youth." His so called empathy comes off sarcastic, uncaring. Not convincing in the slightest.

He turns to them. "Such things are nothing but a cancer that requires removal." He trains his gun on the student and teacher. The people of the town enter an uproar. Children, parents, senior citizens, workers, all cry out for this display to stop. The massive outcry makes the leader's gaze shift slightly. With nothing but a single nod, every single bandit not on the stage lines around the contained area of the yard. They all have handguns, hunting rifles, and swords as they ready their weapons inward. The crowd reels inward as the weapons are all trained on them. Zann simply speaks tiredly. "That goes for ALL who stand in my way."

This was enough, Maxwell choked up for a second before snapping. "YOU'RE THE CANCER!" She shouts at the top of her lungs. The people and bandits slowly stop their mutterings as they hear her voice carry out from the stage. Zann and Fenton each eye her dangerously. "That man was a Huntsman of Beacon! Yes, I hired him specifically to remove YOU from this town, and I would do so again and again if I could because YOU need to be stopped."

Maxwell scowls at him, unafraid now that she knew exactly what her fate was. "I would do it because unlike scum like you, I want a better town, a better world, and better people to exist. Not people brought down to your level, you monster!"

The air thickens as no one moves a muscle. Taylor watches with wide eyes from behind Maxwell. She and Zann stare down one another, refusing to look away. A full fifteen seconds pass, a battle of wills almost. Zann simply willing her to submit to fear, and Maxwell's anger letting her true feelings out and refusing to relent.

Movement finally came... when the three bandits behind Fenton and Zann are thrown completely off the stage and in front of the crowd in a heap, pained yelps sounding. All the crowd, bandits, and members on stage turn to look.

"I agree with those sentiments exactly, Miss Maxwell."

Gasps and mutterings fill the air as he stands there. The silver haired man, a faint nonexistent smile on his face. He stands just a few meters from Zann. In a split second, Zann whips around, aiming his gun at the man. "Who the hell are you?"

The man seemed to mull over a response, still with that know-it-all expression. He comes to a decision, placing his cane tucked under his left arm. His left hand moves behind him before pulling out a microphone...

Zann squints at him before his eyes snap to his own left hand, finding it empty. "Wha- When did you-"

He's cut off as the man speaks into the mic. "Citizens of Fairmare." All in the crowds quiet, ready to listen as the bandits scowl and twitch in unease. This man was a problem. "I must apologize to all of you. I haven't been honest about who I am." The man's smile grows just slightly. "As Miss Maxwell has said, I am a Huntsman of Beacon Academy of Vale." A small chuckle comes from him. "And like her, I am of the teaching profession."

Maxwell's, as well as many others, expressions turned to confusion. Why would that matter? However, he continued. "So, allow me to grade your oppressors on how well a job they've done here." He looks past Zann to Fenton. "Mr Fenton, as kind as he was, happily informed me before destroying the mayor's manor that they had been aware of my presence for two days." His eyes flick back to Zann. "It would appear you haven't thought about what I was up to the previous two days before that."

His right hand goes into his pocket, pulling out a small cylindrical metal remote with a single red button on it. Upon seeing it, Zann's eyes narrowed. "And what's that for? You turning into a terrorist now?"

The silver haired man smirked. "This is a remote to the 56 planted fire dust explosives that were hidden on each and every building within the town." That causes the crowd to collectively gasp and mutter in worry. The man, however, kept calm. "Do not worry. They were all disarmed..." His thumb moves over the red button. "Some placed in new locations to be of benefit."

He presses the button... The outer perimeter of the yard containing the town's population ignites. The explosions are small, nowhere near the people. However, each and every bandit not on that stage is blown inward from the explosions. All of them hit the ground by the civilians, reeling in pain, moaning and crying out.

The man dropped the remote, smirking. "It would seem that Mr Zann has been ready to destroy this whole town since day one. In his own words..." His left hand removes the journal from his inner vest pocket. Zann's eyes widen as he focuses on it. "'in the event that this shit town would turn on us, we can blow the entire place to ash. So long as they don't, we can use them to mine the dust. But when they get uppety, then we'll have to do it ourselves when we kill them.' Endquote." The man's eyes were now sharp as he met Zann's eyes.

In just one move, only five bandits were left. The three behind Maxwell and Taylor plus the ring leader and right hand man. Zann looked around in shock. "Fenton! You said you killed him!"

Fenton likewise grimaced at the situation, seeing all their allies down. "I did! He was in the explosion." Fenton's feathers ruffled as he drew his second sword into his off hand.

Zann glared at the man, training his gun on him. His off hand reaches into his coat. "Fire dust bombs not a problem, eh?" He grins madly, pulling out a lightning dust canister with an ignition cap on the top. He hits a notch on it and throws it at the man. "Let's try lightning!"

The makeshift grenade lobs over the man, coming down on him and igniting. In a bright flash before the crowd, lightning sparks and blinds all watching. The explosion cracks the stage in half, the arcing volts nearly coming back to Zann who grins despite his clenched shut eyes.

Maxwell shields Taylor from the blinding light and explosion. The two hold onto each other tightly as the loud noise dies out. Taylor seems to hyperventilate, but calms down as Maxwell brushes the back of his head. She looks up, face in worry to see the result. Her face morphs to the same face as every member of the crowd, and the bandits up with her on stage.

Before them is just... pure energy? Green aura, morphed into a physical shield, a dome, around the area the man had been standing. A dull hum sounded from the aura as it remained in form. With that, the man's voice sounded from the mic. "People of Fairmare. If you would be so kind as to restrain the criminals writhing on the ground off the stage, please."

The green aura dome begins to brighten and dim rapidly. The man's voice continues. "The remainder shall be dealt with shortly. You have my word as a Huntsman."

Zann's grip on his gun tightens as he aims at the dome. Fenton lines up beside him with both swords ready. The three bandits, one with a rifle and two with swords, step to Zann's right.

The man's voice continues. "You have my word as a teacher." With a violent pop, the dome shatters, revealing the man with a green aura outline. His green scarf now glows with aura matching its color. The man's golden eyes lock onto Zann as he glares. "And in four months, you have my word as Headmaster of Beacon Academy."

Maxwell's breath stopped. Time seemed to stop. A professor of Beacon... A rather young one, gaining fame and recognition? Even the news out here reported on some of his exploits. Why? Why hadn't she seen it before. She barely whispers out. "Professor Ozpin."

Zann and Fenton each jerk their heads to look at her in surprise. The bandits to Zann's side look back and forth between their leader and the outsider. Slowly, Fenton turns back to the man, this Professor Ozpin. He narrows his gaze, cold and unfeeling as he brings his swords up. (Ceremonial drums begin a slow beat. A melodic hum begins a build.)

Zann turns to Ozpin, gripping his gun harder as he seethes. "This guy? The Beacon poster boy?" Ozpin takes a few brisk steps forward, the green aura glow around him fades entirely. (Music continues as it starts to build)

Ozpin's right hand comes to the hilt of his cane, pulling it forward like a sword. His left hand moves behind his back as he stands proper. His expression remains unreadable, save the barely upward curve of his lips. ("I am rebirth! I am the tear in the ties!""Wake me when I die again-")

"So, Mr Fenton." Fenton tilts his head. Ozpin's smile grows just a bit. "I believe I'm ready for round 2." He twists the cane to a reverse grip, tapping the tip into the stage floor. ("I am rebirth! Cycle of spirit deni~ied. Get back up and try again." music intensifies.)

Professor Ozpin

Age – 23

"Music continues."

Maxwell pulls herself and Taylor to their feet. "Come on!" She rushes off the stage with the child in tow. All six men on the stage tense, ready. (Strings begin again for a cord leading into guitar addition.)

Fenton springs forward, spinning as he swings both swords in one slash. Ozpin twirls his cane up to a sword grip and blocks it back. Fenton twists into a flurry of slashes, Ozpin rapidly twisting his one handed cane to block each attack. Fenton spins with a slash, sending a roundhouse kick, but Ozpin ducks it by inches. He moves to strike Fenton's back mid spin, but Fenton's semblance actives, a second Fenton conjuring from him and parrying the strike with the sword from the original's off hand. (Guitars and percussion begin.)

Ozpin backpedals a few steps, the two Fentons attacking forward each wielding one of his two swords. Ozpin parries one and strikes his sword arm lightning fast. He then blocks the Fenton to his right. The right Fenton drops for a low kick, but Ozpin kicks the limb in the shin. The right Fenton is forced back by the momentum. The right Fenton fades away as it flings its sword up, the left Fenton grabbing it. Fenton ducks, showing Zann aiming his gun. (Music continues to build before change.)

Zann fires, the shotgun blast exploding out over Fenton at Ozpin. The huntsman slams his cane down, a green curved barring arching up and deflecting the fire dust bullets. Ozpin bursts forward out of the barrier, hitting Fenton back with a flying knee. Fenton is sent rolling back as the two sword wielding bandits charge around him. Ozpin kicks the first one mid swing. He parries the second before jabbing him in the arm and chest rapidly. A final thrust launches the second bandit away off the stage. (Instrumental changes, guitars, percussion, and string instruments growing more intense.)

Ozpin spins, striking the stunned sword bandit in the side of his head, sending him rolling to the other side of the stage. The bandit with a rifle fires, the bullet speeding through at Ozpin. The hunter twirls his cane and strikes the bullet out of the air before it could reach him. The bullet spins in the air, having lost all forward momentum, before Ozpin strikes it again, sending it back to the bandit and striking him in the shoulder. The bandit falls onto his back, unable to get up. Fenton dives forward to slash at Ozpin, but he leaps over Fenton, landing between him and Zann. (Heavy instrumental continues, then dies down for first verse.)

Ozpin eyes the two opponents as they begin to slowly circle him. Fenton grimaces, twirling his own blades for movement. Zann loads the second shot for his shotgun, aiming it at Ozpin's head. The Beacon professor simple glances back and forth between them, letting them surround him. ("Mark of the blade, mercy on a fiery field. Fostered in the honor of the oldest codes.")

Maxwell and Taylor make it out to the crowd. The citizens are restraining the injured bandits, a few rushing and welcoming Taylor and Maxwell. The teacher turns around, a worried brow showing. She watches the two bandit leaders circle their possible savior. ("Painting the stains, out across the centuries. Blood upon the banners where the water flows.")

Fenton springs forward. He swings each blade. Ozpin quickly parries both blades and jabs Fenton in the gut to knock him back. Fenton separates into two, one moving left and one right. (Intense beat sounds. "Blades...")

Ozpin spins, ducking to the side as Zann fires his gun again. Ozpin moves out of the gun fire, though it frays the end of his scarf. (Beat repeats. "Spark...")

The two Fentons move in from the right and left. Ozpin strikes one with his cane and throws a kick as the other. The other dodges the kick, swinging his sword and locking it with Ozpin's cane. (Beat repeats and builds. "Grounding and Growth!")

Ozpin pushes the other Fenton back as Zann charges in with an elbow strike. Ozpin reverse grips his cane to block while Zann uses his sawed off gun as a club. Zann throws a punch with his off hand, then a knee. Ozpin blocks the punch and strikes the knee with his own, knocking Zann's footing shaky. (Beat repeats. "Stray...")

Ozpin catches another punch, twisting Zann between himself and the Fenton on the right. He shoves Zann into that Fenton, twisting around to parry the other Fenton once more. (beat repeats. "Stark...")

Ozpin pressed forward on Fenton, parrying his sword aside and striking the grip hand. Fenton is forced to release the blade as Ozpin throws the sword away. Fenton glares at Ozpin before fading away. (Beat repeats and builds. "Flaws in the oaths for-")

The real Fenton and Zann charge from behind. Ozpin leaps into the air, up and over them in a flip. He lands on the other side of the two. Fenton turns and sends several slashes while Zann uses flying punches before reloading his gun. ("I am rebirth. I am the tear in the ties." "Wake me when I die again.")

Ozpin blocks both of their attacks and manages to jab the tip of his cane into Fenton's underarm. Fenton's arm dislocates, making him reel back in pain. Zann finishes reloading and tries to step in, but Ozpin kicks him in the chest, sending him sprawling back. ("I am rebirth. Cycle of spirit deni~ied." "Get back up and try a- OH-")

Ozpin grips the end of his cane with his off hand, pushing the pole of the cane into Fenton's exposed throat, hooking under his chin. Fenton is knocked back, gripping his throat with his off hand, his sword arm having dropped his remaining weapon. Ozpin wields his cane line a fencing sword, striking Fenton's knee, gut, and head, sending him sprawled out unconscious on the stage. ("I am rebirth! I am the tear in the ties." "Get back up and try again-")

Zann rolls to his feet. He scowls in pure fury, looking at the crowds and all his downed enemies. He roars. "I'll KILL YOU-" He whips his gun up. ("Rise from the Earth. Cycle of spirit deni~ied.")

Ozpin reacts far too fast, speeding in and swinging up. He strikes the firing gun out of Zann's hand into the sky. ("Get back up and try again.")

Zann recoils from the hit, nursing his hand, but Ozpin quick steps forward, moving into a flurry of strikes and jabs with his cane. His strikes in pressure points, in the joints, in the legs. Each and every hit hit makes Zann twitch and jerk in reflex as he's beaten senseless. (Instrumental plays out. String instruments begin song's main cord.)

Ozpin strikes Zann in the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards, swaying back and forth. Ozpin twirls his cane, green aura flaring in the cane for a split second. In a blink, Ozpin thrusts the tip of the cane into Zann's center mass, center of the chest. Zann's eyes widen as he coughs out, the green aura pulsing on impact. Zann's body pulses black and white for a split second. (Instrumental repeats building to a strong note.)

Ozpin pulls his cane back, turning away from Zann and beginning to walk away. Zann's wide terrified eyes follow him as he walks away. Zann sways, eyes losing focus. "What... are you-" He falls forward, hitting the ground face down, out cold. ("True potential waits..." Instrumental quiets and dies down. Over)

Ozpin walks to the end of the cracked stage, looking out over the massive yard of people. All the citizens of the city have gathered the bandits, policing their weapons and restrained them. However, they all stood in absolute awe of the lone conscious man on the stage. All with wide eyes, disbelief clear in their eyes.

In the crowd, Maxwell watches with absolute joy, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She chokes on the emotion, breaking into a toothy grin. And others followed. Everyone began forming large smiles, giddy over what just happened. Within moments, the entire populace of Fairmare erupts in cheers and whistles, completely elated in happiness.

On the stage, Ozpin looks them over with a small smile. A warmth shows in his eyes now as he nods back to them all.

. . .

To think... all of that took place before lunch hour. The next several hours were just... a release! The town was filled with smiles, workers happily getting together and working out what needed done. Maxwell had never seen so many people acting without thinking it could end in a moment.

And it was all thanks to him.

Ozpin had been true to his word. By night time tonight, this whole thing, the whole last two years would be over. He'd had a contact on standby to come in with Vale authorities. He'd apparently contacted them to be ready for over forty arrests within the week. A transport had come, authorities pouring into the town and carrying each bandit away in handcuffs.

The grins and cheers when the people watched Zann and Fenton hauled away... was like a dream. But that wasn't all. Turns out that Ozpin had a contact that was well versed with historical and hierarchical knowledge. Some hyperactive young man named... Oobles Maxwell thinks, trying to remember the name. Apparently the contact would be coming to help reorganize the town, help people build the skills needed to fix everything up without too much need from the outside world.

Along with the consultant, Ozpin provided a list of legal trade partners and business owners. Apparently, this was key. Authorities of Vale would be contracting out a few of their finest to help build a local police due to some of the... reprehensible business partners Zann and his gang had. All of Zann's stores of supplies were located, Ozpin having found hints to them over the course of his days of scouting. It was... an experience.

Zann, Fenton, and their whole gang would be going away. It turns out the journal Ozpin had found was everything needed and more. Zann DID in fact kill the previous mayor, forged documents of an inheritance, and illegally seized control of the estates. It would be some time before all existing documents could be legalized and ownership of the mine could be bid upon by more... upstanding businessmen.

And so, we come to dusk. The sunset occurring behind the mountain. "Alright, just because this whole thing has happened, doesn't mean you can slack off on work, okay?" Maxwell says, a light in her eyes showing.

Taylor is sitting on a bench along the road, pouting. "Oh, come on!" He whines as he crosses his arms.

Maxwell giggles, ruffling his hair. "And that's why I'll expect the work NEXT Thursday." The words make the kid look up at her, complete confusion followed by the brightening of pure joy.

"YES!" He fist pumps, getting up from the bench and wrapping his teacher in a hug. "See you later, Miss Maxwell."

Taylor lets go, rushing off towards his family. Maxwell is left in the sparsely populated streets. People were in the midst of walking back to their homes, some moving to relax, others to party. Maxwell watched them all walking along the streets, a happy smile on her face.

"A happy ending, indeed."

She jolts in surprise, turning to see Ozpin standing politely a short distance away. He walks over with a small smile on his face. Maxwell puts one hand to her heart, giving a breathy chuckle. "Ozpin." She pauses, brow scrunching. "Ozpin..." She says, a bit of annoyance in her voice. She crosses her arms, raising a brow at her, though her smirk shows she's playing. "How rude not to tell me I was entertaining a celebrity."

Ozpin gives a single chuckle, looking away. "Comes with the business, unfortunately." He shares a moment smiling back at her before he reaches behind him. His hand comes forward, holding a small pouch. He hands it to her. "Here. I hope that covers an apology for the lie."

Maxwell blinks in confusion, shaking the package. Lien? She opens it, looking inside. She recognized this pouch- "This is my payment for the mission!" She looks up at him with a gaped mouth and wide eyes. She jerks the bag forward, pushing it back to him. "This is YOUR payment!"

Slowly, Ozpin's off hand comes up, gently pushing the pouch back. Maxwell looks down, seeing his hand covering the top of the pouch, brushing both of hers that hold it. He pushes the pouch back so she's holding it firmly in front of her. He smiles at her. "Another lie on my part. On record, no one was available to take this mission, I'm afraid."

Maxwell snapped her gaze up, staring at him with utter confusion. "Wh-... what?"

Ozpin looked away, a smile on his face relaxed. "On record, this town was suffering at the hands of some bad individuals until the townsfolk rebelled, freeing themselves from the tyranny." He then looks her in the eye with a small smirk. "And all resources currently going to the town are the result of one of its citizens reaching out for help. And she received it."

He releases his hold on the pound, smiling wider. "You need that money far more than I do. I came here to help. Not to be paid."

She couldn't stop staring. Could tear her eyes away. Her hands slowly but surely held the pouch of money back to her chest securely. Her mouth clamped shut as she finally looked down. Slowly, an idea formed as a giant smile formed. She looked right up into Ozpin's eyes as one hand shot out and grabbed his off hand. "Well, then since it's MY money, I'm using it to get you a drink."

Ozpin looked at their hands, then back at her. "Pardon?" Ah, aloof Oz is back.

She grins up at him. "What? You made a promise! I'm ready to hear about all those fairy tales you've got in that head of yours." She giggles, turning and pulling him along.

Ozpin starts to catch on. "Ah, I see." He grins. "Then lead the way."

And thus was the beginning of something grand.

. . .

19 Years before The Day

It had only begun as a discussion of fairy tales. That's all it was. Although, at the same time, there was so much more to it. Years passed, and we find Ozpin sitting at a desk. In this room, the walls are all windows, allowing him a view not one individual in the entire world but him can wake to every day. The image of Vale... and of Beacon academy.

Despite five years, Ozpin didn't look much different. He still wore his green scarf. The end of which still frayed by the bullet fire that day. His hair was cut shorter, no longer reaching his shoulders. In front of him was a steaming mug. By the mug were various computer screens, allowing him an array of setups to glance through. Messages, notifications, and plans put through by himself.

Being a headmaster was a different monster from being a teacher... but it's not like he hadn't been one before. Ozpin would handle the change just like Ozma... and just like O'cyrus, and Osmosa, and... well, one should see the pattern.

He sat looking over documents when a call appeared on his computer screen. Ozpin answered it. "Yes?"

A male voice chimed in. "Sir, a Miss Maxwell has come to see you. She didn't have an appointment..." The voice sounded unsure what to do.

Ozpin's brow raised as a small smile came on subconsciously. "Ah, it's perfectly fine. Send her up." The call cut out, leaving Ozpin to finish looking over his documents.

It hadn't taken long before the elevator sounded out a single beep. It opened up, revealing his visitor. Miss Maxwell. She stepped out out, showing her hair in a single braid draped in front of her right shoulder. She wore clothes more fit for travel, simple black pants with a blue button up. She now wore black rimmed glasses, a completely new addition.

She walked through the office, taking her customary look at the view of Vale. "Ah, I'm never going to get used to looking at the big city." She says with a giddy smile. "It's the main reason for me to come here."

Ozpin smirks, raising a mug. "I can relate to that. The view is quite impressive."

She strolls right on over to the desk, not hesitating to walk around it and take a look at the screen. "So, what has you busy?"

Ozpin looks over the last document. "An order of missions to be listed out for the third year students. It would seem the professors think they're ready for something more difficult."

Maxwell looks it over, brows raising. "A mission to eliminate thirteen geists haunting a town's damn?" She gives him a look with wide eyes. "That's a mission for students?"

Ozpin chuckles. "None of the geists currently possess anything larger than an average beowolf. It shouldn't be too much trouble so long as we send someone soon. Geists only become problems once they become large, rather problematic golems."

Maxwell exhales. She leans down to him, a quick peck of her lips onto his. Her hand comes to a rest on his shoulder as she shakes her head at the screen. "You hunters and your amazing super powers."

He laughs, a laugh that's louder than he would typically give. "It comes with the life we live." He gives her a look, raising a brow. "I could teach you whenever we get together if that would placate you?"

She chuckles, shaking her head. "The day you have enough time to teach me is the day I become Mrs Ozpin." Despite the levity, she saw his smile drop just a bit. "You know I understand, right?"

Ozpin's face became unreadable. His lips a fine line showing neither approval or no. However, She could read right through him, knowing the next two words out of his mouth. "I'm sorry-"

"I told you, I get it." She says with an easy smile. "Bad guys, magic, evil cults. Applying your name to anyone else is like painting them in neon. You refuse to let me become a target."

Despite her being the one to say so, it still led to a small frown adorning the man. The light in her eyes dies out slightly seeing his regret so clear. That's why it's her job to distract him.

She reaches around him, plucking a folder off his desk and looking at it. "Oh ho! New graduates!" She raises a brow, slightly grinning. "Oh yeah? Even in Fairmare, we've heard a great deal about these graduates. Team STRQ."

Ozpin's frown was soon replaced with a genuine smirk of his own. "Bright stars of tomorrow it seems. All with promising futures. Rather, three of them plan on becoming agents of the academy if I'm not mistaken."

Maxwell frowns. "Only three? What's the other one planning on?" She helps herself to his computer, typing and pulling up a file. Files that they both know she shouldn't have access to, but... Ozpin has long since lost his ability to refuse her. "Taiyang... 'hopes to become a prominent hunter' yada yada 'and bring teachings to the next gen-" She gasps as she beams at Ozpin. "Aw, you made a teacher."

Ozpin smirks at her. "I believe the choice was entirely his own." He watched as her gaze lingered on the information before them. The look in her eyes... yearning? No, more like anticipation.

"The next generation." Maxwell chuckles as she looks at nothing. "You know, Taylor is applying to leave Fairmare for Haven Academy, right? Thinks if he goes here, he'll blab about how he knows you." She laughs, shaking her head.

However, the humor didn't stop Ozpin's curiosity. It did leave a small smile on his mostly passive face as he read her. "Vanessa, why did you come today?" His smile widened slightly. "I appreciate the company as it's been a month, but I've never known you to just drop in. Not for how far a journey it is."

Her movements paused. She looked at the wall across the room, eyes slightly too wide for Ozpin's liking. She lets out a scoff as she reaches into a purse on her side. "You ever heard a fairy tale that you hadn't heard of before?" She slowly looks at him, a hesitant look on her face. "You being you, I highly doubt it's happened in a long, long time."

Ozpin lets her set the pace. He allows her to stall as she collects herself. A small smirk adorns his face. "Actually? Every generation. New tales begin all the time. Although some mirror those that came before, new tales entirely unique begin every day."

That brings a more natural smile to her face, though she still doesn't look directly at him. She seems to find the item she's looking for. She pulls a small plastic bag out, placing it slowly in front of Ozpin. "I suppose you would know. You always have a tale to tell." She smiles genuinely, slowly bringing her eyes up to glance at him. "Endlessly entertaining."

Ozpin raises a brow, looking from her to the bag. He opens the bag, reaching in as his other brow rises to the others height. From the bag, he pulls out a thick gray pen shaped object. One side of it is blank, so he turns it over. The tip is a strip inserted into the side. On the main body of the item is a small rectangular panel... one that shows a plus sign. His eyes narrow in confusion before slowly widening. Somehow, even more confused. He turns his head slowly, jerky short movements, as he makes eye contact with Maxwell.

Her face is blushing, mouth clamped shut, brow scrunched. Her clamped mouth is curled in a nervous smile. She glances between him and anything else in the room twice before breathing out nervously. "So... It would be nice to be a part of one of those new tales." She gives a breathy chuckle.

His mouth falls open slightly, but nothing comes out. If there was anything that could leave the now Beacon Headmaster speechless, this was not something one would guess. His wide eyes clamp shut. He slowly turns to her in his chair, facing her. She turns to face him, still standing. Simply looking at her, his eyes are wide and mouth still open. "... This is impossible." His voice was dreadfully quiet.

She glances at him, nervous and turning more red. "I, uh... I'm about a month along..." She cringes as she holds his eye contact. "And the last time we spent time together was also about a month." She coughs. "And... I also took five of those by the way. That's the last one." She raised a brow, raising her purse. "Would you like the others for confirmation?"

He fell further into his chair, losing the perfect composure he's had indefinitely. His eyes trail to the floor, face scrunching in thought. "But... that's just impossible."

Maxwell tilts her head, confused. "How so?" She gives an embarrassed laugh. "I mean, I'm positive that we-"

Ozpin holds his hand up, stopping her from going into literal detail. "No, I..." He looks up at her. "Across all my lifetimes... That's just been-" He stops, shaking his head.

Maxwell's eyes widened, realizing what he was meaning. "You mean... simply you being you? You've never had a child?"

Ozpin removes his glasses, placing them on his desk. He rubs at his eyes and face for a second before looking at her straight. "I'm a being that... isn't conventionally natural to say the least." He, the perfectly prim headmaster that he is, lets out an uncharacteristic sigh. "Magic is rather... unkind to the unborn, regardless of my..." He looks for the right word. He of all people has never been this lost for words. "Host gender?"

Maxwell simply stared, a mouth just barely open. "Oh..." She looks up in thought. However, that news just brought a smirk to her face. "Then... this is a new tale then? Completely unique." Her nerves slowly calmed as she smiled genuinely down at him.

Ozpin looks up at her, looking... lost for the first time. The two hold the stare for a solid thirty seconds, as if he's drawing strength from her new comfort. A exasperated breath huffs out of him as he straightens, regaining his composure. Although, he still scratches the back of his head for a second, still showing his own nerves. "I... guess so."

His smile slowly drops as he looks out the nearest window. "But... with how our relationship is... I do not believe I'm..."

Maxwell's gaze steeled, hand moving to her hip. Nessie is out. "Ozpin." Her tone portrayed her instant annoyance. "I have lived with our relationship being a secret because of Salem. I have lived with it all, and I'm perfectly fine with never having a petty ring to say we're together. There are other ways to show we are what we are. This is one of them."

She then leaned forward, placing her off hand on his chair's arm, looking him in the eyes. "You are the strongest person in this kingdom. You are one of the strongest beings on all Remnant." Her growing scowl disappears to a smirk. "And you have me, a stubborn small town teacher who refuses to lose hope." Her hand on the chair finds his hand. "We can do this. Together. You have centuries of practice watching over others already."

Ozpin holds her gaze, slowly gaining a smirk of his own. "I wouldn't exactly call it the same thing..." A chuckle escapes. They take a moment to think, letting it all settle in. "We do this, I have but one request."

She smiles brightly. Her hip hand comes forward, cupping his chin. "Name them for a color?"

His smirk grew. "Why, Mrs. Ozpin, you seem to be able to read my mind." Her face split into a massive grin. Indulging in fantasy to bring the mood up. She could cry for how much she loved this man.

. . .

18 Years, 4 Months before The Day

The tip of his cane tapped the floor. These halls of Beacon were marble white from the waist height to ceiling. The lower wall brown hard wood. Within this hall, various drapes and curtains decorated the walls, blocking light from the outdoors. The floor was black.

Ozpin sat in a couch-like bench in the hall. Both hands were held tight around the hilt of his cane. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the wall across from him. To his right was a door, the left leading down a long hallway to the exit.

His eyes were hollow, body unmoving. Sitting on the arm of the furniture is a scroll, a newer model released by the SDC. The screen lit up as a message pops up. 'J.U.: I'm on my way up, Professor.' Ozpin's body didn't move an inch. His eyes side glanced at the scroll for only a second before trailing back to the unfocused spot in front of him.

A door from the far off ends of the hall echoes as it opens and shuts. Foot prints sound off the black hard floor. Ozpin doesn't react at first, but the footsteps grew louder, eventually impossible to ignore. Ozpin slowly rises and stands. His eyes shut, as if he's centering himself.

"Professor Ozpin? It's been two years since I've seen you! How you been?" The voice echoes through the halls. Jovial, a touch sly.

Ozpin turns to look at the newcomer. The man has a dark, almost brown, red leather jacket. White fur lines the color, puffing out. The jacket is form fitted, but unzipped. He has black gloves on. Under is a dark unsaturated green shirt tucked into leather pants matching the color of the jacket. He has black boots clicking off the ground. On his right thigh is a holster, showcasing a silver vertical double barreled revolver. Engraved on the side of the silver weapon is a bright crimson sigil of a howling wolf.

The man's face is tanned with shape eyes. His eye color is hazel, and he has short black hair sticking up like a barely too long buzz cut. The sides of his head have gray colored hair. He's in his mid to late 30s. He holds an easy going smile as he gives a wave, closing the distance leftover between them.

Ozpin turns to glance at him, his calm collected exterior in place with that barely smile on. However, one can surprisingly see bags under his eyes if looking close enough. "Mr Uhlric. Glad you agreed to come here." He tilts his head slightly, a touch of regret in his eyes. "I certainly hope your wife isn't upset with my contacting you."

The man, Mr Uhlric, waves him off, shaking his head. "Ah, leave her be. I may technically be retired, but I told you if trouble called, I'd be here to help." He shifts his weight, looking off to the side. "Plus, when someone does give any details other than 'you'll be interested in this', well..." He turns to Ozpin fully, a toothy grin. "You've got my attention."

Ozpin gives a huff of a laugh, remaining proper, but looking away. "Well, if you get curious that easily..."

The man sets Ozpin with a firm stare. "Curiosity kills cats, sir." He grins, his right hand hovers on his revolver, drawing closer to the wolf sigil. "A dog sniffs curiosity out." He brings his hand up, clapping once as if settling the matter. "So, let's get down to it. What's the sitch, Head Man?"

Ozpin's look loses its humor, but he nods and turns. "Walk with me. I'll explain more once we're there, but I have some questions for you?" He begins walking, leaving Mr Uhlric in confusion before he sighs and rushes to catch up with the retreating headmaster.

Their trek through the halls is eerily quiet, only the clicking of footsteps. Mr Uhlric glances around with a raised brow. "This is closer to faculty property, right?" He glances at the headmaster, fairly relaxed, but looking the professor over. "All the professor offices and stuff. You live here, right?"

Ozpin keeps his stoic ghost of a smile, nodding. "Yes, I believe your record lists you only coming here your second year. You tore a hole in your teacher's wall while painting the posterior of a donkey around it."

Mr Uhlric couldn't help the surprise giggles coming out of him. "Oh, jeez! They STILL have that on my record?" He sighs, shaking his head with a huff. "Old guy was a stubborn ass." He flourishes his hands out in front of him. "It was artistic expression." He barks out a laugh.

Ozpin gives a low dry chuckle. "Ironic given your current job." He'd looked up a lot about Mr Uhlric before contacting him. Currently the Chief Inspector of a sizable town of Sanctuary, a port town that deals trade between Beacon and Menagerie. He settled with his Beacon team partner, a woman named Senaya Enville, or Sen. They married as she took his last name. Himself? His name is Jared Uhlric.

The school keeps track of its affiliates and alumni. Jared had 'retired' to settle in Sanctuary as one of its protectors at the age of 27. He was a decorated huntsman from before Ozpin's time, nearly ten years older than the silver haired headmaster. Despite him settling down, there was an interesting fact that Ozpin was curious about.

"So, how goes the simpler life with Mrs Uhrlic?" He begins as the two turn a hallway, many of the doors shut as they walk by. An odd window on the right every so often showing Beacon's beautiful architecture.

Jared beams a smile. "I look at her and still drop my jaw." He then scratches the back of his head. "Then she swats me for 'gawking like a fool'."

Ozpin raises his brow. "An understandable feeling. For someone to be so lucky."

The words were happy, but Jared's eyes noticed the ghostly smile having faded completely. He once more took in the Beacon headmaster. This wasn't their first meeting. Far from it. Ozpin was famous for perfect poise, a cool head, knowledge, and instinct. This man before him now... his shoulders are just slightly slouched. His facial muscles are worn. Bags under his eyes. Something... is wrong.

Jared watches Ozpin like a hawk for a few more steps before speaking. His jovial tone has turned soft. "You know exactly what it feels like." The words hang in the air as the two stop walking. Ozpin's back is to Jared, who lags two steps behind him. Jared frowns, knowing he just hit the nail with a sledge hammer. "Ah, you know what? Whatever job it is you have for me, it can wait until you sort whatever troubles you have."

Jared continues, trying to smile. "Really, I'll head back in when your head's on straight. You may be the most powerful man in Vale, but even you need to sort your own problems. Let someone else do it." Jared lights up for a minute. "I'm sure you got someone capable of running things for a few weeks. Didn't Porkbelly Port start teaching here?"

Ozpin finally turned to him. He wore a wry smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He spoke, but disturbingly, there was a shake in his first few words. "It unfortunately cannot wait, and... it may be related to such a thing."

Jared's look turns confused as Ozpin turns around, reaching a door at the end of the hall. Ozpin grips the handle. "We're here, Mr Uhlric."

Jared enters the dark room after him, finding a rather sparsely decorated dorm room. He looked around, seeing shelves and desks filled with papers and books... Grimm anatomy texts. Jared tilts his head at it. "This was one of the offices. You made it a dorm room? For who-"

He's cut off as Ozpin slowly sits into a chair by the window. Beside him is an object in the spot one would find a bed, if it were a dorm. Jared huffs a laugh as he realizes that the large object in the darkened room is a baby crib. Jared lights up with a smile. "Oh man, congra-"

The tip of Ozpin's cane appears just in front of his nose. He cuts the statement off as he hears rustling within the crib. A rather light breathing with squeak like breaths. Jared gives an apologetic grin, pushing the cane tip away with one hand. He whispers. "Sorry... But, congratulations!" He whisper shouts.

Jared grins, hands coming out and twitching in a... slightly creepy miming of grabbing. "Finally found someone to add candy to your cane, I see." He hugs himself, wriggling slightly. "A lovely lass to wear that student uniform in your office after hours?"

"Mr Uhlric." Ozpin barely speaks above a whisper. "Enough."

The serious tone yanked Jared from cloud nine. He freezes mind gesturing, face sobering quickly. He straightens his posture, looking at Ozpin closely. Jared gulps as he sees, for the first time in his years, an honest look of anger on the man. But it was more than that. A faint shimmer in his eyes. Looking at him straight on, he sees red skin.

All traces of humor were gone, Jared frowning and nodding at him. "I see." He'd put it together fairly well. Woe and misery with a newborn child in the mix. "How'd it happen?"

Ozpin placed his elbow on the right armrest, resting his head at the temple. He barely looks at Jared directly. "It would seem... that during labor, the child's aura activated."

Jared's eyes widened, body jerking at the info. "Whoa, wait a second. Most people can't even unlock their auras without some form of training."

Ozpin tensed, shaking his head. A steady breath, throat shaking with each attempt to speak. "She... gave labor to him as normal... There were no problems. The procedure was done at a Vale hospital in the city..." Ozpin's gaze traveled down, the tightened grip around the left armrest by his off hand audible even for Jared. "Then it all went wrong."

He continued. "She began to bleed internally. The doctors had to drug her immensely to continue... after fifteen minutes of screaming... The child was out, but..." He trailed off as he contained a shudder.

Jared raised a brow. He looked to the headmaster and the crib. He listened intently for the barely audible breathing. "So..." He begins. "The child comes out with an active aura... What happened to her?"

Ozpin's breathing is ragged for a moment, but recovers quickly. "She was perfectly healthy throughout her entire pregnancy." He said so with conviction. Absolute certainty. "But after she had him, it was as if her insides were that of a elderly woman." Jared jerked his head at the claim. "Her organs and makeup were... aged."

Ozpin gaze a shaken sigh. "A child exits with his aura active, and the mother's body is altered by a power."

Jared's gaze narrows. "A semblance. Have you been able to find out what kind?"

Ozpin meets his gaze. His emotions were held back in check, his mask back on. "Unfortunately, no. The child has displayed no further use of his aura."

'besides taking your loved one's life' Jared thinks to himself. The ex-hunter's gaze falls on the crib. "This job you have. It relates to the child, doesn't it?" He crosses his arms, looking at the seated headmaster. "Unless you orchestrated all this to vent to me. Which, by all means, I'd understand."

Ozpin and Jared held their gazes on one another for a full ten seconds. Ozpin finally clears his throat. "Before that, I have a query of my own that requires answering." Jared raises a brow, but motions for him to continue. "Why is it that you and your wife have not decided to have children?"

It was now Jared's turn to tense. Uncrossing his arms, he awkwardly shifts his weight from one side to the other. He looks more and more awkward until finally spitting it out. "We can't have any." He says quietly. "Sen is a faunus. I'm a human." He shrugs. "While some interspecies couples can make the rocking count." He says cracking a joking grin. However, the grin falls soon after, a grimace coming on. "Others are unable to reproduce."

Jared shakes his head, sighing. "You could say that my little ones are like inner city street urchins, and her lair belongs to a Nevermore." He lets out a chuckle. A little too loud he realizes. He stops his laugh and waits a second, seeing if he woke up the baby. When satisfied that he didn't wake it, he looks back to Ozpin. "So, yeah. Why?"

Ozpin nods. "And it never once occurred to you to try adoption?"

Blink once. Twice. Three times. Jared's eyes widen extraordinarily. His mouth goes agape as he breaths shakily. "W-what?" He can't possibly mean-

"I am asking if there are any particular reasons as to why you have not pursued such a venture." Ozpin stated plainly, as if ignoring the implications literally two feet away from him!

Jared simply stared in disbelief. He shook his head, beginning to pace the middle of the floor. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. Hold up." He stops the pacing, setting Ozpin with a fierce glare. "Ozpin, you can't be serious."

Ozpin's expression remained unchanged, awaiting his response.

Jared's eye twitched as he exhales. "That's it?" He waves his hand to the crib. "Just- Like- you- UGH!" He seethes for a moment, containing himself. "You just have a child so you can dump him off on someone else when it doesn't suit you?"

When Ozpin still doesn't shift his expression, Jared continues. "This is YOUR child!" He whisper screams. "You brought me here just to- just to- interview me?!" He jerks back and forth, just to work out the energy he's gotten into him. "I understand that having a child can be hard, but-"

"It's impossible!" Ozpin states. His voice cracking as he grips the arms of the chair. "The entire reason it was even feasible to have the child-" He stops, taking in a shaky breath before exhaling. "-was because of her... She made it possible." He trails off at the end, voice dying out.

Ozpin's outburst halted Jared's growing contempt. He stops his movement and gives Ozpin his full attention. The two remain silent as they glance away from one another. Jared looks off to the side, old memories coming back from his hunting days. "Right..." He sighs. "Right. The cult of Salem." Jared straightens back to look at Ozpin. "Teaching kids is one thing. Raising them is a whole other game."

Ozpin's eyes lower, falling to the ground between his feet. His crestfallen posture and... defeated aura only sealed Jared's thoughts in. Jared continues. "You can't do both, and you've made your choice."

Choice... like that was something Ozpin ever had. Jared knew full well that for all the 'choice' Ozpin taught and inspired in others, he was the person who seemed to have the least of it. Continue to keep the world safe, or raise a single baby in an even MORE dangerous world.

Seconds ticked by. Seconds turned to minutes. The two adults remained silent, mulling over things. Ozpin remained seated while Jared paced the room. Eventually, Jared found himself by the crib. The object had a blanket over it to prevent light from outside waking the baby.

Jared's own feelings were starting to make themselves known. He sighs, turning to Ozpin. Upon meeting eyes, they both realized. A choice has been made. Jared slouches, letting out a huff of a laugh. He awkwardly smiles, but seems nervous. "Um... so, you gonna introduce me?"

Ozpin raised a brow for a moment before a smirk grew on his face. Slowly, he rises from his chair. He reaches and pulls the blanket up and over, revealing the inner crib. Within the white sheets of the crib was a sleeping newborn. Jared spared a glance at Ozpin, noting the small bit of... pride showing.

Jared smirks, looking down at the child who seems to just be sleeping soundly. He whispers out. "Hey, little guy." He smiles wide, eyes lighting. "How you doin? What's your name?"

Ozpin's smirk remains as he chuckles. "Mr Uhlric, allow me to introduce to you, Carmine Ozpin."

Jared's smile turns to a beaming grin. "Carmine? Like the color red?" He looks at the kid's head. The top of the child's head had the more saturated crimson he'd ever seen, but something was weird about the ends of the hairs. They rapidly turns lighter. There wasn't much hair, though. Just enough to clearly tell. "Yeah... That's a good name."

Ozpin's smile turned nostalgic. "Nessie picked it after I suggested the first name be after a color."

Jared and Ozpin just looked at the child, mirrored looks of adoration for the little life in front of them. Jared's smirking face turns to Ozpin, losing some of its levity. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?"

Ozpin's smile remained, eyes still locked on the child. A few breaths passed until his eyes closed. "I am."

Jared turns to face Ozpin straight on. His face turns serious as he nods. "I won't disappoint you. I promise." The headmaster nods back, turning back to the child. Jared soon returns to doing the same, looking over the boy as he shows some nerves. "Um, could I, uh... hold him, sir?"

Ozpin gives him a blank look. It lasts a few seconds before a small smirk grows. However, his eyes seem conflicted. "I... suppose so."

Jared smiles more comfortably as he slowly reaches into the crib. With a small heave, he brings the child up, cradling him with an expertise one wouldn't expect from someone in this much leather. Jared smiles at the boy in his arms.

"Hey, buddy." He grins. "Carmine's a cool name, right?" He takes a step into the middle of the room, cradling the child. Ozpin watches from his original spot, his smile not matching his eyes. "My name is Jared Uhlric." He chuckles, still taking in the situation. "I guess... I'll be taking care of you from now on."

From outside the makeshift dorm, the two men can be seen with the child. The beginning of a journey. The beginning of something great. The last words heard are spoken. "How does Carmine Uhlric sound?"

And thus ends the first chapter of this story. Chapter sizes will vary, of course, but I want them longer than I'm used to. Song for the battle was Rebirth by Miracle of Sound, based on the game Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice. Next song used will not be Miracle of Sound, I swear. Also, song moments won't take place in every chapter. Just a good chunk.

As for the song, I cut out a good chunk of the middle. If you look the song up on youtube, I cut everything from timecode 01:59 to timecode 04:27, cutting a minute and 28 seconds. Just if anyone cares to listen to it.

References:

Ozpin's false name Franklin Baum, obviously based on the writer of the Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum. Just thought it would make sense and be funny since Ozpin is literally meant to be the Wizard from Oz.

Meren Zann is based off Star Wars character Tyber Zann from the video game Star Wars: Empire at War, Forces of Corruption. Criminal leader who made a criminal empire that managed to tamper with the Rebellion and Empire's civil war.

Fenton is based off Tyber Zann's trusted companion Urai Fen. A bird like alien who fought with twin katar swords as Tyber's main enforcer.

Vanessa Maxwell is one of two characters I have concepts for that is not based off a historical or fictional character... the other being Carmine, the main character of the rest of the fic. Her nickname of "Nessie" is based off a friend of mine.

Speaking of Carmine Uhlric, Carmine is a shade of deep red, hence the color name. Uhlric in one of its spellings in older English means 'power of the red wolf', hence the family crest and further reference to red, the distinct part of his hair color before the last inch fades to silver.

Jared Uhlric is his wife Senaya Uhlric. A few draws of inspiration that will be more obvious next chapter. For now, think a cross between Jonathan and Martha Kent of Superman lore mixed with personalities of Jiraiya and Tsunade from Naruto lore.

Join next time in Chapter 2: Of A Different Pack.