Courier Six stared into the embers in the fire pit trying to stifle an impending migraine.

While Red Rock Canyon had changed a lot over the past few years, the drug lab where over half the chems of New Vegas came from remained nearly the same. Looks like a shit-hole and still smells like it. Should've packed aspirin.

In front of him prattled one of his 'biggest fans' as Master Sergeant Stonham put it. The damn trooper remained at attention even after he expressed his disaffiliation with the NCR. Though she did give him a meticulous after-action report of everything that had transpired.

"Is there anything else, sergeant?" Vickers asked, seated on the wooden recliner in front of the fire pit.

"No, sir!"

Christ on a stick, I'm not your CO. "At ease, soldier."

Mags loosened up. As did the rest of the Misfits who breathed a sigh of relief after being strictly prompted to straighten their backs in front of him by their sergeant. And that was when Six finally had a clearer view of the brats skulking behind the squad. They all had their own visceral reactions to what they had heard but none more so evident than Kitty and Snowball. Can't blame 'em. Having an older sister leading the pack, half of which are half-animal, and they're all tagged and collared in a brahmin pen, I wouldn't be as concerned.

"Dismissed," Six said.

The Misfits—being the mascot misfits of the NCR Army—immediately slouched onto the ground around the fire pit, unceremoniously stretching their limbs and belching out. The Courier left them there to meet with the sister teams idling inside one of the trailers, half of whom were scratching at their arms, necks, and cheeks.

"Winter Schnee and Glynda Goodwitch," he started. "Care to tell me who they are?"

"Don't you already know?" snarled Weiss. "Winter is my sister! She's here in the Mojave, bound like some animal in a refugee camp!"

Calm your non-existent tits, Snowball. "'Collared' is the right word. What else about her?"

Taking three long breaths, she controllably replied, "She's an Atlesian military specialist. Graduated from Atlas Academy as a registered Huntress and enrolled into our armed forces as a technical specialist and liaison to General James Ironwood, the commander of all Atlas forces."

Another Jimmy, eh? "And Glynda Goodwitch?"

Blake answered, "Professor Goodwitch is our combat class instructor at Beacon. She's one of the best and most respected Huntresses in Vale."

She some kind of wicked witch of the west, huh. Goddamn, all this fairy tail bullshit is getting annoying. "So two femme fatales leading a ragtag bunch from your world. All still collared for some reason."

"Why are they still collared?" Ruby wondered aloud while unsubtly rubbing her bare arm which was getting redder by the minute. "Can't the NCR really—"

"It's what they were told," Jaune echoed. "Sergeant Mags didn't seem like she was lying when she explained that they tried everything to get them off. Her squad mates, too."

"I don't understand," Pyrrha added. "The NCR should have been able to disable those collars, right? They have the means, don't they?"

"Sounds fishy to me," chimed Nora, who had so far been constantly scratching at her neck.

Ren hummed. "We can only conjecture."

"Something's definitely not right," Yang piped. "There's something going on that they can't even trust their own troops."

"They're grunts," Velvet said. "I hate to sound blunt but they are technically low-level soldiers who might not take well to the deeper motivations of their commanders if they were informed of it."

Six looked over his shoulder to check on the Misfits—the four troopers were so caught up in their own conversations that they were most likely inattentive to whatever was being discussed over here. Meanwhile, Syrup nuzzled his boot, sniffing for that parcel of brahmin jerky that was supposed to last him until next week.

Fuck it. Here you go, you little shit. The Courier led the infant deathclaw outside where he had the Misfits try to feed it, the troopers being both parts stunned and fascinated that such an apex predator could be domesticated like this. Besides, whether in the wilds or in the civilized lands of the NCR, it was not everyday that one would see a deathclaw panting and collared like a dog.

Collared. Goddamn. Brings back some nasty memories. Six flushed away the memories of a toxic red cloud over a vain paradise. Either the NCR couldn't or wouldn't try to get rid of the damn things. They could be rigged to blow or worse. Fucking hell, James wasn't bullshitting.

He returned to the trailers, tapping on the doorframe to get the kids' attention. "Alright, everyone sit back and rest. You've been walking around the desert long enough."

"Yeah, no shit," groused Yang, who had begun scratching at her legs. "I've got blisters, my hair's a mess, and I stink."

"Don't we all?" groaned Blake, her arms folded and her fingers minutely digging at her reddening elbows."

Wait a minute. Six glanced around. Pyrrha was massaging Jaune on the shoulders while Ren tried to keep Nora from peeling her arm open. On the other hand, Weiss and Velvet were digging through their own supplies to have something for Ruby's, Yang's, and Blake's rashes...

Rashes. He eyed the dirty, rusted steel walls and the messy floors. Ah, shit.

"You didn't touch any of the bare surfaces here, right?" the Courier asked.

The two teams failed to meet him in the eye.

Six felt the veins in his temples start to pulsate. "Hyper, hold your arm out."

Ruby hesitantly did so, pulling up her sleeve to show the clear signs of a nasty skin rash stretching from her palms all way up to her shoulder. "Is it...bad?"

He twitched. Then sighed. Even a hot spring bath can't get rid of that shit. "Goddamn it."

"Cooking one-o-one!" barked the Courier. "Pay attention."

Teams RWBY-V and JNPR-S huddled by the campfire, some digging their nails into their skin and rubbing their arms and legs so much that the rashes they had gotten from the filthy trailers were getting even worse. With the Misfits out on patrol in their jeep (and covertly instructed not to divulge their location to any of their NCR comrades they might come across), he could freely focus on treating the nasty skin rash that had somehow infested his kids.

Just peachy. They're looking like junkies now. "Alright, we don't necessarily have what we need but this is close enough."

"Is it for our—"

He cut Jaune off. "Yes, Knight-boy. This is for your rashes. Quit scratching, you'll make it worse."

"But it itches!" whined Nora.

Goddamn it. "Stop scratching and pay attention!"

Minutes later, he emptied half a bottle of spare vodka just to calm his nerves after the kids came up with a 'balm' that almost gave him a rash when he tested it.

This was absolutely not what Six wanted to to end up doing but he had long since stopped giving a shit.

If you want something done right, you got to do it yourself. Can't believe these kids. He scooped a small portion of the gel he mixed together from the extracts of Nevada agave and barrel cacti growing around the canyon and rubbed them up and around Ruby's bare arms and legs. This'll help get rid of these rashes. And keep her from scratching herself 'til she bleeds.

Ruby squeaked.

Six stopped. "Tell me if I hit a nerve."

"N-no, you didn't," she mewled. "I'm just a...just a..."

"What?"

"She's ticklish," Yang finished for her, standing behind her sister who had been seated on the recliner while the Courier continued to spread the ointment across her fingers, toes, and even parts of her bare neck. "Like really ticklish. Like if you touch a certain spot and she'd moan like—"

"Shut your trap, Blondie," he hissed.

She threw up her hands. "Hey, I'm just saying. This looks kinda—"

Six flicked a some residue gel at Yang. "Can it. I know what you're thinking."

"Yang, don't make this weird," Blake added, trying to be subtle with her scratching on her elbows.

"Wh-what's the s-s-safe word again?" Ruby mewled. "Y-your pushing too h-hard!"

I sense a dumb misunderstanding coming. The Courier grit his teeth, only grunting in response as he spread the ointment over the ugly red patches scattered over Ruby's pale skin. Huh. Kid's pretty skinny to be able to swing around that scythe of hers. Then again...

"Ow, ow!"

Six stopped. "You're pretty stiff."

"Y-yeah!" Ruby hissed cathartically. "It f-feels...good?"

"Christ Almighty, am I your masseuse now?"

"Technically," Yang worded.

"Don't start with me, Blondie." Six paused to pop open a bottle of whiskey he fished out from his field pack. A few big swigs later and he was able to tune out the quips from everyone else around him and focus on kneading Ruby's tight muscles because it dawned on him that the girl needed a release and no one else around seemed capable of properly doing it.

"You know," the cat faunus said. "You were just supposed to demonstrate where to rub the ointment, right?"

"Too late for that now," winked the blonde.

The Courier groaned. Too late now. Might as well get this over with. "Can't believe this shit..."

To say that Ruby was in bliss was one way of putting it.

It was great that her skin stopped itching. It was amazing that she was getting a well-deserved massage. Trekking the Mojave and fighting all these wasteland horrors did a number on her. Seriously, all her stiff muscles were coming loose in fits of pain that actually felt good. Really, really good. For a moment, she thought she was in a massage parlor instead of some dirty old abandoned drug lab.

"Having a good time there, sis?" Yang chirped with that malicious smirk on her face.

"Don't ruin it," the reaper moaned.

"We've prepared more...ointment," announced Weiss with Velvet in tow, both plopping out of the trailers and carrying cans of the same refined gel that they had vigorously refined with a salvaged and thoroughly sterilized hot plate. "... What is...going on?"

The blonde winked. "Ruby's getting some spa treatment."

Velvet cracked a small smile. "She seems to be really enjoying it."

"That's an understatement," Blake quipped.

"Would y'all shut up, I'm trying to work here," the Courier barked tiredly.

Yang threw up her hands. "Hey, we're just here for the ointment. The free complimentary massage though..."

"Christ, Ellie," sighed Six, his tone suddenly dropping. "Why don't you get Alex to run your limbs, eh?"

The brawler's smile died. "Ellie?"

The heiress narrowed her gaze. "Alex?"

Ruby propped herself up on the recliner only to be pushed down while Six expertly kneaded her shoulder blades. "Six, wait—"

"Stiff like your mother," the Courier echoed.

The other girls froze.

"M-mother?" the reaper quivered.

"What did you just say?" Yang carefully worded under her balled fists.

"Can't have you constantly runnin' 'round with Ellie an' Alex, y'know? Y'might trip and we don't have enough meds for your condition, darlin'," he continued absently, a hauntingly foggy smile directing his hollow eyes towards the dirt.

"What are you saying?" Velvet prodded.

"Girls, wait," Blake interjected, holding back her teammates. "Look. He's not...he's not himself."

"You're right," Weiss conceded, peering close and catching Six's blank stare and a small, homely smile curling on the edge of his bearded lips. "He's... I can't say he's spaced out but he's..."

Six blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then he pulled back, stood up, and wiped his hands on his pants. This time, the mystique in his eyes had been replaced with the same weighted contemptuous pupils. "Alright, I'm done here."

"What about me?" Yang raised.

"Rub yourself," he countered gruffly, tossing her the can of gel.

"But—"

"Come on, Blondie, do I have to fucking hold your hand all the time?"

"I mean...n-not really."

Six twitched. "Shut up. You and Kit can get busy. You're partners, after all. Snowball and Cottontail, too."

Blake frowned. "Really?"

Velvet scowled. "You want us to rub each other?"

The Courier pinched the bridge of his nose. "For the love of... Pull your heads out of your asses! You're fuckin' old enough. Treat each other for fuck's sake. I ain't doin' it for you."

"No offense, Blake," Yang started. "But Six is better with his hands than anyone of us and..."

Six swatted her in the back of the head. "Shut the fuck up and treat yourselves already. Those rashes aren't goin' away by themselves."

"And where are you going?" Velvet called.

"A drink. God knows I fucking need one after this shit."

"Just a drink?" Weiss pressed.

The Courier glowered at her sharply. "Goddamn it, Snowball. I'll be back for dinner if that's what you want to hear."

And with that, he quickly saw his way out through the ravine before the girls could stop him. Along the way, he did his best to ignore the sounds of team JNPR-S awkwardly trying to massage each other in one of the trailers with another can of the same type of ointment they had cooked together over the fire.

Blake hugged her knees closer to herself on the outcrop overlooking much of Red Rock Canyon. She had switched into more comfortable yet still pragmatic clothing offered by the settlers whose generosity she feared they were continuously exploiting. A part of her argued not to think too much about it—the people here were only being kind and were willing to give away what little they had to help them. Unfortunately, said voice spoke in the tone of either Courier Six or Adam Taurus.

She did her best to clear her mind and in the process amplified her hearing, picking up the crickets and the whistling of the dry Mojave wind that blew sand and dirt onto her back. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself before laying down on the rocks to stargaze. She could hear the noise of her friends down below, goofing around the campfire they had set up with that oddball NCR squadron. There was also this bird, a strangely curious crow, nestled on one of the jagged edges of the cliff a few feet away.

It had been the only thing in the sky, occasionally squawking but constantly flying around. Almost as though it had been following them. For a moment, she thought she saw something similar in the Divide but she chalked it up to delusions brought by physical exhaustion and mild radiation sickness. But that bird was here, staring at her with its piercing red eyes, tilting its head every now and then.

Blake had given up trying to shoo it away; it always came back. She tried feeding it but it only stared at the crumbs she tossed at it. Then she just accepted its existence and occasionally fought the temptation to talk to the damn thing, even though she knew it wouldn't reason back with her. Because it was an animal...like her...

Rocks falling.

She whirled around with her pistol whipped towards the silhouette emerging out of the starry evening sky.

"At ease, Kit," Six said.

Blake holstered her gun and laid back down while the man clamored over the rugged clifftop to where she was. Strangely, that bird stayed atop the same outcrop, now bouncing its attention between the two of them.

"Nice spot," he remarked, now crouching next to her. "Not easy getting up here. Especially without climbing gear."

She ignored him, pushing her cheeks against her knees.

"You still itching? There's still some cream left."

"I'm fine," she blurted out.

"Let me see your arm."

With a huff, Blake unrolled her sleeve and showed him that her rashes were indeed fading.

"That's a relief," Six grunted. "You had dinner?"

"An hour ago. You're late, by the way. Ruby panicked and Weiss nearly threw a fit."

"Hey, at least, I came back." He glanced around. "This ain't an easy spot to go for a piss, if you ask me."

"Why are you here?"

"I'd ask you the same thing."

Blake frowned. "Overwatch."

He pointed to the carbine slung over her shoulder. "You don't have a scope attached, no binocs on you. And I doubt you have the range to pick off targets from this position. Plus, you have shitty aim."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. You got me. I just wanted some space, that's all."

"Right." He adjusted himself to sit next to her, the both of them now idling precariously on the edge of a high cliff. "A lot of space up here. Nice view of the stars."

"I don't plan on sleeping up here."

"Hyper know where you are?"

"I told them. JNPR and the Misfits, too. So they don't have to worry about me. What about you? Does Ruby know you're here?"

"Yeah. Kid needs to relax."

"She worries. Weiss, too. Everyone does. We all do."

"I ain't goin' to tip over and die anytime soon. Quit your worrying. It's annoying."

"Tell that Ruby then," Blake growled. "Tell that to Weiss. You said it to me, now say it to Yang and everyone else, too. Won't stop us from feeling concerned for you."

Silence.

Rustle, rustle.

Blake turned to see the Courier popping the cork off a glass bottle so he could take a big swig of his specially home-brewed 'wasteland tequila.'

"Want a drink?" he offered.

"No."

The subsequent moments passed wordlessly with the occasional sloshing of the alcohol in the bottle whenever he took a swig. For a spare second, both of them eyed the crow perching itself closer with more focused attention to Six's tequila.

"What's got you thinking, Kit?" the Courier started.

The cat faunus stared at him. "Why are you asking?"

He motioned at her cheeks. "You got that thinking face on."

She frowned. "What? You can read minds now?"

"Hah, I wish I could. Would've solved a lot o' problems that way."

Silence.

"You're not going away, aren't you," Blake remarked.

"Neither are you," Six rounded.

The bird crowed from its perch and the Courier and the cat faunus both decided to ignore it completely.

"We know," Blake started. "We know about the family you lost in Arizona."

Whistling wind.

"It must have been very hard for you and...I can't imagine...none of us can imagine...the pain you went through."

Crickets.

"I'm sorry. We...we screwed up and we thought we knew better and..."

Six fished another drink from his pack, twisted off the cap, and handed it to her without bothering to even look at her. "She was frail."

Blake hesitantly took the bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla, finding the taste a little too sugary than she wanted. "Who was frail?"

"Sick, really," the Courier continued distantly. "Born sick but none sicker than her mother. She couldn't speak either. And her eyes...they weren't even the same color. We all ate so much rads walkin' the wastes that we thought we ended up with a rad-child."

"Your...daughter?"

"She was four years old when I...when we left."

"Left?"

"To keep the world safe for everyone," Six choked out bitterly. "At least, that's what we told ourselves every time we mustered out."

Blake shifted in her spot, her legs now dangling over the edge with her face locked onto his. "You...left your family?"

Six kept swigging at his drink until the bottle was half-empty, his bloodshot weighted eyes dragging over the revelry below. "Long deployments, long missions, long time away from home...doin' things that were the opposite of what we stood for."

"What..." The cat faunus bit her lip, finding the right words. She glanced to the crow which continued to watch them with morbid, taunting fascination.

"She was walkin' healthy though. Runnin', too. Skinny little girl jumpin' 'round, ignoring her sickness so she could squeeze into tight spaces whenever she played hide-and-seek with Ellie, Alex, and the other kids," drawled the Courier.

Blake took in a deep breathe. "Who were they? Ellie and Alex?"

Six set aside his drink and pulled out a small plastic bag from one of his many pouches. In it were dried tobacco leaves, the same ones that he often chewed but never swallowed. She watched him shove a bundle into his mouth, waiting until she started smelling the faint pungent odor of coyote tobacco.

"Imperium fugitives," Six answered. "Alex got caught, pressed into service, escaped Legion boot camp with his centurion's favorite slave girl. Made it through the desert for days, livin' off the land an' squeezin' out every drop o' water they could find."

"They sound resilient."

"Ain't just that. Alex had moxie, Ellie had sass. Both got a kick out o' the Old World fairy tales and stories of heroes. Boy acted like Robin Hood even though he read the wrong book. Hell, he picked up the wrong name: Alex. Ellie wasn't Ellie until she started goin' on and on about Cinderella."

Blake cracked a small smile when the Courier chuckled at the memory. "They must have had a wild imagination."

"Sure did. They loved to read. Volunteered to help catalogue our backlog of Old World records, y'know, holodisks and holotapes. And then they...they acted out these...fairy tales with my little girl. Heroes, damsels-in-distress, a party of adventurers, a gang of...super...heroes...savin' the world like their dad...like the Desert Rangers that raised 'em, trained 'em, and protected 'em."

And as easily as the warmth came, the air cooled.

"But there's only so much protectin' you can do."

"You left," Blake said slowly. "You left the ones you cared about... You left to protect others."

Chewing. The smell of tobacco was stinging.

"Is that why you couldn't hit Ruby?"

The chewing stopped.

Blake found it hard to look the man in the eye. When she did, she saw him staring down at the campfire below. She followed his gaze, narrowing down to Ruby having fun with the rest of her friends. It looked like they were playing a betting game or something with the Misfits and their laughter resonated against the cliff walls, reaching her faunus ears. They were having fun.

"Hyper is Hyper," Six spat. "She's not my little girl. None of you are."

"But do we remind you of them?" Blake asked impulsively.

For the first time tonight, he turned to look at her. But just like the day when they emerged out of their misadventure in the Divide, his eyes were foggy and his stare was unfocused while his hands mechanically dug through his little plastic bag for more tobacco leaves. When he spoke, his voice came off as hollow.

"My little girl couldn't say a word. But she did her best to let us know what was on her mind. She made faces, she pointed at this an' that an' everywhere. She made shapes with her fingers, then made shapes with her hands...and when she started walkin', she started making poses, bendin' and stretchin' like she was born o' plastic... And on some days, I swear...I thought the colors of her eyes would change..."

"Six," Blake tried only to be cut off.

"She wanted to help, she wanted to save the world like her dad. She wanted to...she wanted to...she would've tried to stop people like me from doing what I do."

"Six?"

The Courier stopped. He blinked multiple times, snapping out of what he was seeing before spitting out a cod of saliva and tobacco leaves. "Her mother was a tribal. From what tribe, we couldn't figure out. She never told us, just said that she came from a far away place filled with giant wolves and angry black bears. Eventually, we stopped asking."

Blake opened her mouth only to be stopped by his finger pressed to her lips.

"Shh, Kit," he whispered hoarsely, his putrid breath assaulting her nostrils. "You might spook our visitor."

Her eyes went wide as her faunus ears picked up on the faint footsteps on gravel. She had been so caught up in their conversation that she failed to identify whoever it was that had crept up on them. That was when her nose picked up the scent, a sharp flowery balm that pierced through the thick odor of tobacco. And her worry died down.

"Christ Almighty, where the hell did you get that much soap to smell like a pixie, Snowball?" Six barked.

"Excuse me but Nevada extract is a treasured commodity around here and it behooves me not to waste such a thing!" screeched Weiss Schnee who now angrily paced from the outcrop behind them, balancing herself on the uneven rocks with her revolver-rapier. "Ugh! How did you manage to even get up here? There's barely a straight path!"

Blake furrowed her brow. "How long have you been...?"

"Not long enough, it seemed," groused the heiress. "Was I interrupting a tender moment?"

Six snorted. "I didn't touch her inappropriately if that's what your getting at."

The cat faunus groaned. "What is it, Weiss?"

"It's late," Weiss deadpanned. "Ruby and Jaune are calling everyone in to hunker down."

"You better go," the Courier prodded. "I'll keep watch from up here."

"And when was the last time you had any sleep, Major?" the heiress pressed.

"I sleep when I sleep."

Blake shuffled off her perch and tugged Weiss by the hem of her sleeve. "We should go."

Crackle.

The heiress tripped on a loose rock and with the cat faunus holding onto her, they both tumbled down the cliff. Or they could have. Instead, before either one could scream or activate their Semblances to salvage their fall, they found themselves hanging off the ledge. Six had both his hands gripping their belts.

"Watch where you're stepping, goddamn it!" he hissed, pulling them back up.

"Sorry," Weiss breathed shakily.

"Th-thanks," Blake mouthed in relief.

"Do you need a flashlight?"

The girls nodded and carefully made their way down with an industrial torch the Courier had salvaged from the Vegas ruins. When he returned to his perch, he found that lone bird gone. He thought nothing of it and continued drinking well into the night.

Crackle, crackle, snap, crackle.

"So yeah, uh, that's how it is."

Team RWBY-V sat in morose silence around the campfire. Master Sergeant Stonham poked at the embers to keep the flame alive a bit longer. In one of the trailers, more than one person howled over another intense round of poker between team JNPR-S and the rest of the Misfits.

"Y'know, Friday night is usually poker night at Fort Mead," Mags said. "Sometimes, a couple of the refugees would sneak over the fence and play a few rounds. Pretty sure the brass knows but they don't give a shit."

"That's one way of funneling extra supplies, I guess," Ruby remarked. "Thanks for filling us in on all this stuff. We haven't been able to catch the latest news recently."

Sergeant Stonham smiled back. "Happy I could be of help then. I hope it wasn't all that much of a downer though."

The reaper glanced to her partner who sat in deep thought beside her. In the same way, Blake huddled in her own bubble, unresponsive to Yang constantly shaking her shoulder. Both had recently come down from the cliff top, leaving Six to his lone vigil.

"Weiss? You okay?"

"Winter," breathed the heiress. "Enslaved and treated so...inhumanely by the...by the Imperium."

"Don't forget Miss Goodwitch," added the blonde.

"Faunus, too," her partner mumbled. "A dozen of them. Collared like...animals."

Velvet twiddled her thumbs. "Did you know anyone else among the refugees?"

"We were only allowed to engage with their representatives," Mags replied. "Fraternization was largely discouraged."

"But not prevented, right?" Ruby asked. "So you'd have met the others, too, right?"

The sergeant flashed them a conflicted face. "A few. Mostly Winter and Glynda though. While a lot of us did try to connect with the others, the brass tries to keep a strong eye on the camp but there's only so much a chainlink fence can do. Anyway, I'm pretty sure General Hsu's doing his best to get them rehabilitated."

Sideways glances and uneasy looks were all the five Remnant girls could offer at this point. To her credit, Mags was as sharp as she was a 'big fan' as she described herself.

"I guess I don't have clearance to know what the general sent you out here for, huh," she groused.

Yang exhaled. "Right back at you, sarge."

"As long as we won't get in each other's way then."

"We have to head back to New Vegas soon," Blake reported.

"Good luck on your trip then. Now that you've got Courier Six with you, you won't have anything to worry about."

"Good luck to you as well," Weiss reciprocated. "I hope you complete your mission without any serious complications."

"Eh, we're just here to patrol the roads while the main force clears out the east. That and figure out what caused this massive smoke plume that literally riled up whole colonies of mutants in the surrounding hills. My guesses? Either a brush fire or some asshat probably caused a big explosion."

"Ah, ha-ha, yeah, something happened here, huh," stammered Ruby. "Not like we know anything about that."

"We don't," Weiss cut in. "If you don't mind, what else can you tell me about Winter and Miss Goodwitch?"

"And the rest of the refugees," added the cat faunus.

Mags glanced around. With the rest of her squad so heavily invested in their poker game with team JNPR-S, she felt free to disclose what would have been considered dubious information on an after-action report. After all, she was the leader of the Misfits—the best and worst of the NCR. Besides, it was not like any of their superiors were around to keep things any more hush and hush...and these were the Vegas Wonder Kids she was talking to.

For all she was concerned, they went out on stuff that was as clandestine. So fuck it, she thought.

"Winter's awesome," the sergeant started dreamily, stretching her back on the bench. "Like, her swordplay is really something. And I haven't seen a lot of swords myself but damn, she can cut through wood and steel with a rusty machete like butter...with some glitter in it, too! Like magical, shiny glitter..."

Weiss held off from mentioning Semblances, instead coming up with a substitute. "You could say it's a natural flair that comes with every stroke."

"Huh, and I thought special effects only existed in movies."

"By the way, do the Fort Mead folks know about us?" Yang asked.

Mags hummed in thought. "Pretty much. Winter knows. Glynda knows, too. Hell, everybody and their mother know all about the Vegas Wonder Kids. No surprise that they really want to meet you. I can imagine why since the Ice Queens are sisters."

Ruby tapped her chin. "What about Six? Does he know about Winter and Miss Goodwitch and everyone at Fort Mead?"

"Does he?" the sergeant wondered. "I was going to ask you guys that myself."

Blake sighed. "Wouldn't be surprising if he did."

Yang nudged her partner. "You asked him?"

"No. And I don't think he'll give a straight answer anyway."

"You sure about that? I mean, other than Ruby, you're the only one who can get through to him."

The heiress sighed. "He has to either be very drunk or very tired to really open up to anyone close to him."

"What about Raul?" posited the reaper.

"He has his reasons," Velvet interjected. "Believe me. He's not as cryptic as Six but he won't give a straight answer if it's something really serious. And he's an open book. Granted, some of the pages have fallen out but an open book nonetheless."

"That's one way of putting it," Yang noted.

The rabbit faunus shrugged. "His words, not mine."

"Goddamn it! Shit!" someone screeched from the trailers.

Mags sighed. "Guess it's time to hit the hay. Nice chatting with you. I'll go get my boys before they do something stupid. See you in the morning."

Bidding goodbyes, team RWBY-V watched the sergeant march up the ramp and chew out her subordinates before their poker game would turn into a fistfight. Later on, as they were settling down for the night, Yang noticed Blake leaning against the doorway, eyeing the cliff tops. She traced her gaze up to the small but defining silhouette perched on the outcrop above. Ruby, Weiss, and Velvet also shuffled over to see.

The shadow waved at them.

They waved back. Then Ruby fished out her walkie-talkie, twisted the knob to the right frequency, and held it between her and her teammates.

"Goodnight, Six," she announced.

There was a buzz. Followed by chitter. And then a faint, tired reply. "Go to sleep, Hyper."

"You too, Six. Don't push yourself. Please. We're safe here."

Buzz. "Just making sure."

"Okay then. Um..." Ruby regarded her teammates.

Wordlessly, they all leaned in to the speaker and chorused, "Goodnight."

Up on the clifftop, the Courier's hands trembled so much that he nearly dropped his communicator. Although inebriated, he did his best to hold himself together. After a while, he tossed the empty bottle behind him, wiped his eyes dry, and unsheathed the old broad machete that had served him well over the years. The campfire down below had petered out as did the light coming from the trailers, leaving much of Red Rock Canyon in relative darkness.

"Goodnight, kids," he slurred, tracing the shapes of the giant mountain geckos scampering over the rugged hills searching for prey. "Sweet dreams. Daddy'll keep you safe."

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: June 11, 2020

LAST EDITED: July 2, 2020

INITIALLY UPLOADED: July 2, 2020

NOTE: So this is largely bonding between them. And since the other tag for this story is 'family', I might as well expound on that. I hope I did it right.

Also, I'll be quickening up the pacing in the next chapters. There's a lot more to the Mojave Wasteland that the kids are going to bumble into.