A/N: Now now, I know I said that this chapter would have weapon smithing, but I really wanted to extend this first day just a little more. So have a flashback and a Carbonara recipe to boot! There are a few things I wanted to ask you all before we get to the thick of volume II.

1º Do we want gore and creepy stuff Project Moon is known for doing? Because I wanted to do it, but then I realized that not most people are accustomed to it.

2º Do we want to follow RWBY's story? Because at first, I was against it, but now I'm not so sure.

Just simple doubts I have.

VGBlackwing: They kind of worked at all floors at once, because of that shortage of staff at both Lobotomy and the Library. Yes, there will be flashbacks!

Rhomark: That I Shall!

holandia1103: Aw, don't say that, or else I fall for you! And yeah, the Index is a weird bunch.

Anyways, enjoy the chapter ya'll!

Bemaia stood completely still on his bed while Blake held him by the shoulder, attempting to unlock his aura. Now, she wasn't entirely sure of what would happen, because the last time someone tried to unlock the aura of an alien, the alien ended up fine-ish but completely naked.

And that's why Bemaia covered himself with a blanket beforehand.

Blake initiated the process, leading her aura inside his body, carefully, patiently, trying to find his very soul.

The bald one watched, as his partner started to glow a dim yellow light. "Did that happen to me also?" Francisco asked no one in particular, however, still expected an answer.

"Kinda?" Yang answered, unsure of what she was seeing. "Your's shone a dark red instead."

Francisco nodded. "So the color means that it's going well?"

This time, Weiss joined in. "It means that it's starting to manifest with her help."

The former librarian huffed, discontented.

What exactly was aura? He couldn't wrap his head around that idea. 'A power anyone has, powerful enough to elevate you to the status of Urban Plague?' There must've been a catch, Francisco knew that a deal that good had some kind of drawback that he didn't know. "Does aura come with some, uh… Adverse effects?" The heiress once again responded. "It does, yes." She never once took her eyes out of her friend. "Aside from its obvious pros, Aura also accentuates feelings."

Francisco didn't quite get that. "Explain, please?"

She sighed, still unaccustomed to the fact that these people were utterly uneducated in everything she once thought was common knowledge. "Since it's your soul and mind, your feelings have direct control over your aura. And since aura is that, pushed to its limits, every feeling you have is multiplied."

Francisco stared at Weiss, completely speechless. 'That's dangerous' he thought. The last time he could remember that someone had their feeling multiplied by something, that someone beat him so hard that he ended up in another world.

But that also meant that the same thing that happened to that crybaby of a man, Philip, could simply become a common occurrence in the City.

"That's bad."

Weiss nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is so bad! Especially when you realize that it's directly linked to your semblance!"

Francisco didn't really understand what that 'semblance' business meant, but that sure sounded a lot like bullshit for him.

As they continued their exchange, the cat-Faunus reactively jumped backward and hit her back against the dorm room's wall as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Francisco instinctively dismissed the distressed girl and snapped his head towards his partner. It didn't take a genius to notice what had happened, although, in the bald guy's eyes, Blake's reaction wasn't justified.

On Bemaia's back, awkwardly pressed against the mattress and his back, a single wing made from pitch-black feathers as tall as him, resembling the active soaring wing of a giant bird matching his stature.

Sadly, the wing was painfully beneath his body.

"Oh." Francisco calmed down and shrugged. "It's just the gift." he sighed, "Got me scared for nothing."

Blake could barely get up from the shock "What was that!"

She screamed as desperate gasps left her chest. But instead of trying to help her get up from the floor, like her teammates, Francisco smirked "Well, someone ain't used to weird stuff."

He watched his partner closely, carefully taking note of any distress he might be feeling. "Well, I'm no medic but he looks fine." He attentively laid Bemaia down on his chest, giving his newly acquired member some much-needed space to fully stretch.

"Does anyone know where we can get food?" Francisco nonchalantly asked. "He'll be fine, but I'm sure he's also hungry. I know I am."

Now Playing: OFF! OST -14- Desperately Safe

It had been some difficult times for him. Being the manager of what could arguably be the most prestigious restaurant in District 12 and the manager of his own Fixer Office, life came with more than a few surprises.

Bemaia had just managed to get back to his home after a few shortcomings with that color. "I knew I shouldn't have signed that contract."

He let out a tired sigh as he put his hat and coat near the entrance door.

It was already late in the night, nearing Night-Time in the backstreets, so not many would be stupid enough to bother him at such time.

Inside the restaurant, once brimming with life from his eccentric co-workers, was now reduced to a broken mess dimly lit by a half-broken ceiling light. The windows, tables, chairs, everything were now reduced to dust due to all the fighting done not a day ago, all to protect one of the fixers working under him from the fury of the index.

Only for her to snap and run away.

He undid the knots of his armored gauntlet that covered his entire right arm, letting it fall to the ground while moving towards what was left of a small tent inside the restaurant.

Though the sign once stood at the top of it had now tumbled down, he could still read it, as clear as day.

'Catch's Sushi. No refunds.'

He let out a sour laugh. The man in question, Catch, had been sitting on the floor right behind what was left of his Sushi Tent.

He was… Worse for wear, so to say.

Wires of the most different colors had been ripped out of his chest and arms, while metal chunks that were probably ripped out of his body were now littering the floor of the restaurant.

Dried blood and rotting viscera surrounded what was left of Bemaia's friend, though he knew those weren't his.

Before he could open his mouth to say anything, a mechanized voice, clearly badly damaged, came out of the unmoving carcass. "Ho-ve your d-een, Bemaia?"

Bemaia lamented silently. Since Catch's face had been torn open, he couldn't see what was happening around him, but he could still hear, ever so slightly. "Better than yesterday. How're the repairs."

Catch remained silent for a few seconds, and after some sparks flew out of his damaged body, he struggled to speak. "The Emerald Leaf came here while you were gone." His voice no longer seemed to be damaged. "He-offer for you. For us."

Never mind, it was still damaged.

Bemaia crouched near him, being careful to not step on any of the broken glass.

"The midget? What did he want with us?" He asked, as he took out his overcoat and put it on Catch's metal body. "-saw us fight-Proxy. Wanted to-elp us. So he-contract."

Bemaia analyzed the room with haste, quickly noticing the piece of paper that was left on the severed hand of Catch.

"Focus on repairing." He yanked the piece of paper off of the severed hand and started reading it.

"I also bought you some gas, since your bio-engine went out." He mentioned, as his eyes trailed the room finding every piece that was taken out of Catch's body, all damaged beyond repair.

Catch didn't react to that information, much to Bemaia's grief. "I wa-ou to accept it. Best course of action." Bemaia felt his stomach drop hearing his words but decided to hide how it felt. He began to read the contract.

Well, It's not much of a contract, it's more of an ultimatum.

Bemaia held the paper down for a few seconds, had he read it correctly? "He wants me to hand you over to him. That fucking midget." He held himself back, using everything he had still in him to not crumple the piece of paper. "Let him, -ept the deal. It's for the best-us."

Bemaia heard him but still couldn't wrap his head around that idea.

'Your restaurant intrigues me, much like your friend. Leave both to me, and I shall give you something of equal value. A nest migration permit, and a spot for you inside of L-Corp. Should you refuse such a handsome deal, the wrath of the Emerald Leaf shall brook thee no quarter.'

Bemaia sighed, taking in the scenery around him.

Was there anything he could've done to prevent this outcome? Bemaia used everything he could, he played all the cards he had and pulled every trick, but now, he was left exhausted of all resources just to stop the onslaught of a Proxy. He pulled the favors of the Thumb, all fixers of his office, and although it was enough, the Thumb distanced themselves, and the Fixer Associations couldn't give two shits about him.

In the end, it was for naught.

Lily, the young fixer that worked under him ever since he was a simple grade 7 fixer, had messed with the wrong people by accident and provoked the ire of the Index. Even after sacrificing everything he had, even his beloved restaurant, she snapped and ran away.

The Emerald Leaf was simply kicking him while he was down.

"Do I have any other option?" He pondered to himself.

Analyzing his gauntlet, it had seen better days. The contract he had signed with Stigma Workshop had ended last month, so the incendiary function had been removed. His bio-enhancers had also been struggling to keep up after the Proxy incident. The bloody thing couldn't match the strength of a Color, not then, and definitely not now.

His holstered revolver, a gift he received from the Thumb for helping them out in a few errands, had broken down during the fight.

He sighed in defeat. "Are you certain you want me to take his offer? Only the Head knows what will happen."

Catch let out a mechanized laugh sitting completely still. "I will mo-dismenteled. However. All is right. I have ac-eath a long time ago." Sparkles flew out of the dying corpse of the tinman, and eventually, a small piece of paper was dispensed from his chest cavity. "Take it."

Bemaia hastily took the piece of paper that his friend had just printed and began reading it. It was clear what this was. "It's my secret sushi recipe."

As soon as he read those words, he immediately staggered back in fear, disgust, and curiosity. "Memorise-" He attempted to speak, but his metal body was failing him. "Take it with you, so that-left."

Bemaia nodded. It was progressively becoming harder and harder to understand what Catch attempted to say. "Fine. Your cooking methods are dubious at best, but I will take good care of your recipe."

From Catch's mangled face, a single green light bulb was lit up. "Th-"

And then, nothing.

Bemaia understood that Catch's time to go was nearing close.

"Worry not, Bemaia." His voice returned once again.

"For it is in sharing memories that we achieve immortality."

Bemaia straightened his posture, turning to leave the restaurant. "

Through this, we become a herald of virtue, that will rise above the very stars."

He hesitated, for but a moment, he knew that he needed to hear Catch's last words.

"Infinite in distance-"

"-And unbound by death."

Huh?

That last part, he couldn't remember Catch saying that.

His body felt lighter than usual.

What was going on? Was he reliving his past memories? Wasn't he just mere moments ago running from three birds? What was the last thing he could remember?

"I release your soul,"

He heard the voice of a young woman speak those words. Weren't those the final words he heard from Catch? Why was he hearing it from someone else?

"And by my shoulder, Protect thee."

Bemaia's eyes shot open in a cold sweat, as he instinctively tried to get up from the bed, but something held him in place.

He saw Blake, tightly holding his shoulder. He tried to calm down but soon noticed something else.

A familiar feeling, a weight on his back he hadn't felt ever since the 'Seed of Light' incident, alongside an unbearable sense of dread coming from it.

Even Blake felt it, her hand was shaking as she held his shoulder. Bemaia took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, he quickly took the spare set of clothes specifically separated for him and put them on beneath the blanket.

Or at least he tried. The singular wing, 'Through the Dark Twilight', had shown its true nature.

"A complete pain in the ass!" he half-yelled in frustration.

Blake was taken aback by the sudden outburst but decided to simply observe him.

"Why? Why did this thing appear on my back again?" He asked nobody in particular, as he struggled to put on his shirt due to the very real and big wing getting in the way.

The Faunus girl watched in amusement, Bemaia's hassle to simply put on a shirt. That wasn't the first time she watched someone struggle with their extra appendages, she grew up in a place filled with all kinds of Faunus people after all.

She knew of clothing specifically made for Faunus with extra 'parts', made for fans with a tail, with an extra set of arms, even for the winged ones.

The only problem with them is that they are extremely expensive for no reason, and considering that he decided to enroll at Beacon, just so he didn't have to pay his medical bills, showed that even if she were to speak of those types of clothing to him, in her eyes Bemaia would simply complain about it and modify his own clothing.

'Like so'

She thought, holding back her laughter as Bemaia started to bite through the back of his new shirt.

Just before she could try to stop him from reducing his uniform into ribbons, the door swung open revealing Francisco holding about three plastic bags in his hand and three sets of silverware in his mouth.

"Hmph!" He grunted as he carefully put the bags on top of the cabinet and quickly spat the forks and knives near the bags, "I knew you'd be hungry!" he said, as Bemaia slowly put away the shirt he was munching on.

"It's not as it seems." He said, as his stomach roared "But I am hungry."

He got up from the bed, wearing only his underwear and pants, and walked towards the cabinet that now would serve as a table. Opening the plastic bags, Bemaia was met with something indescribable.

"This, smell…"

Francisco smirked in response. "Yep. It's what you suspect."

He could feel himself drooling at the mere thought.

"It's real food!?"

Francisco let out a loud laugh "Yes! It's not those compact rations from Lobotomy, It's not light labeled as food from the Library!" He pointed to the bags. "This is animal meat! These are planted and harvested vegetables!" Francisco laughed with happiness dripping from his words.

"However," he stopped suddenly, earning a tired sigh from Bemaia, "The people from the cafeteria didn't let me get any cooked food, since it's past their working hours."

"Why is there always a catch to everything!" Bemaia lamented, but something wasn't right. If he couldn't get any cooked food, what did he bring? He swallowed.

"True, but this time it's not so bad!" Bemaia's wing shuttered reactively. He could feel something bad was about to happen.

"I got a cooking pot, a Bunsen Burner fueled by fire dust, three pairs of plates and silverware," Bemaia already knew where this was going, and he couldn't help but smile at the opportunity. "and whatever I was allowed to get, but I'm sure you'll manage to make something to appeal to one of our teachers!"

He exclaimed excitedly, but unfortunately, his excitement was not shared with Bemaia.

"What do you mean, 'one of our teachers'? Did you just invite a Teacher to a dinner that I don't even know what to cook?!"

Francisco looked down in shame, much like a puppy who knew he'd done something wrong.

"How?" Bemaia demanded.

"Well, you see…" Francisco swallowed, "When I tried to get us food, they wouldn't let me." He scratched the back of his head, "But then this fat old man came in and persuaded them to give us raw food, and in exchange, we would have to cook dinner, since he didn't have his food either."

Bemaia's eye shot towards his scroll. How did this thing work? Ozpin gave it to him but forgot to tell him how it worked.

As luck would have it, he tapped the screen and numbers popped to life. '10:34 pm' it read.

This day may very well be the longest he has ever experienced.

"He said he wanted to talk to us in particular or something." Bemaia wanted to get to work, but something still bothered him. "Where's the teacher then?"

"Oh, he went to get something first."

Bemaia felt a wind of relief hitting him, but it wasn't time to calm down just yet.

A teacher, the so-called 'Absolute authority' on the school grounds was about to join them for dinner.

Francisco couldn't give two shits about that, but Bemaia understood the situation perfectly. He needed something that would blow the professor out of his feet, but how? He didn't even select the ingredients himself.

But he had to make do, he represented the ideals of the Thumb on Remnant, and those very ideals dictated that the teacher was way above him on Beacon's hierarchy, so he needed to give it his all.

Now Playing: The Cyber Grind (Ultrakill OST)

'Let's do this.'

Bemaia took a mad dash towards the bag filled with the ingredients, and so he got to selecting them.

Inside the first bag, he found a literal slab of raw and uncut bacon, a wheel of cheese, a bar of butter, a random assortment of various spices he didn't have the luxury of sorting through, and five apples.

A drop of sweat fell from his left cheek. 'What the fuck am I supposed to do with these, Francisco!' An overwhelming sense of dread filled his very soul.

He felt like his sanity was about to fall into the abyss while he could only hold it by a single strand of hair.

Panic!

He then proceeded to open the second plastic bag, with an insecure hope that his friend didn't doom him.

Giving someone of a higher something deplorable is the same thing as committing social suicide! The person would spread that you are incompetent to everyone around him, and those people will most likely do the same! Soon, everyone in the nest would know of your failures and you will never be able to have a decent job ever again!

"That's enough venting." He forced himself to calm down.

Overthinking things at this stage of the game would do him no good.

On the second bag, things looked more promising.

Two cans of condensed milk, half a dozen eggs, a bag of raw fusilli, two papayas, and two boxes of milk cream.

Bemaia's prayers have been answered, something he could work with! "Francisco you magnificent bastard, you've saved me!" He yelled, as his mind got to work.

"Uh, you're welcome?"

He didn't know how long it would take for the teacher to arrive, so he assumed soon.

With that in mind, there was only one recipe he could think of.

The thing about it is that it's such a simple thing to do, that it could almost be seen as disrespectful to make it. But what other option did he have? Give him nothing? Risk the teacher arriving while the dinner was being cooked? Part of him wanted to do just that. But he was stubborn, and he would not settle for less!

He would make the best Carbonara that the teacher will ever eat!

But there were still a few problems that needed to be addressed.

One of them, the most concerning one, had no shirt! He couldn't hold a meeting with a professor while being shirtless! That would be the same thing as spitting on his face and telling him to kiss his ass! That needed to be assessed immediately!

"Francisco! Find me a shirt that fits my wing, on the double!"

Francisco, sensing the urgency he couldn't really understand from Bemaia's voice, gave him a single nod and swung the door open with enough speed to trample even the mightiest of fixers, and soon, he was out of sight.

"You are my only hope." He quietly said to himself.

With that out of the way, he could focus on the actual food.

The bacon needed to be cut, the cheese needed to be grated, and he also needed water to prepare the pasta.

Deciding to figure out the water problem first, Bemaia quickly took the single pot he had. "Where's the water though?"

His mind went on overload. Bathroom water? No way in hell he'd even consider doing that, not for someone that important to him and the academy.

Perhaps he could find a drinking fountain.

He heard schools had those, maybe this world also followed that logic. The former librarian decided to bank on that. He quickly got to the hall right through his dorm room's door, and there lay the ever-desired public drinking fountain.

He dashed towards it with reckless abandon, uncaring for how he looked to those around him.

Not that there would be a lot of people in the halls this late in the night.

He quickly approached the fountain, only to be surprised by a sight he did not want to see.

'Out of Commission' Was labeled on the sign glued to the metal contraption. Bemaia's hope did not extinguish, however, for there was another one on the opposite side of the hall!

As he neared the second fountain, something unprecedented happened.

A random student, one he most likely had never seen before, though his short ginger hair did seem familiar to Bemaia.

The student in question had just started filling his bottle, and from the looks of it, he had three more bottles to go through.

Hopeless!

Bemaia cursed, instead of going for the water, for now, he entered his dorm room and threw the pot on the cabinet that was being used as a makeshift table and oven, and took hold of the bacon to cut it.

But then, another problem arose. "We have no proper knives!" he exclaimed to himself.

But then, a revelation struck Bemaia straight on the face.

He took the knife Francisco brought, although they weren't ideal to cut bacon, they would have to make do. Either he liked it or not. And, inevitably, he realized that those knives weren't enough to cut through the rough slab of bacon he had.

Bemaia sighed, he knew exactly what to do.

Or so he hoped.

Setting up the Bunsen Burner he was left with an interesting conundrum. He had the Fire Dust necessary, but he did not know how to make it work.

After a few desperate seconds of grueling trial and error, he managed to activate the Dust crystal, and with a quick motion of his hands, he used the Burner to elevate the temperature of the knife, to the point it was blazing red.

And like butter, the bacon couldn't resist the hot knife pressing against it as it sizzled.

With that out of the way, it was finally time to get his water pot. Looking out in the hallway, he noticed the lack of people at the fountain, he promptly filled the pot to a reasonable quantity and carefully made his way back to his makeshift kitchen, where he had yet another problem.

He needed to season the water to just the right amount, or else he risked butchering his whole dinner! The thing is, the spices Francisco brought him, all of them had been randomly selected, so the chances that he brought an actual useful spice, were almost completely null.

Or so he thought.

With less than three seconds of search, he found the salt. "That was easy…"

But then, another problem downed on him.

"I need another pot!" he yelled to no one in particular, but luckily for him, Francisco had just walked back with a white shirt with a hole on the back.

Perfect.

"Leave that on the bed, go get me another pot. Now!" Francisco quickly threw the shirt on one of the beds and vanished once again, almost as if he wasn't even there in the first place.

Bemaia quickly added salt to the water at his discretion and put it to boil, with the fusilli.

With that, he was left with a single problem.

By Angela's tits, how was he supposed to grate cheese without a cheese grater?

He didn't have a food processor, he didn't have a mandoline, and he didn't have a vegetable peeler. He sweated profusely as he held the wheel of cheese with both hands, thinking about what he was supposed to do with it.

Bemaia swallowed, knowing what he needed to do.

He would try to grate the cheese with one of the forks! It's more like scraping the cheese with the tips of the fork in order for small pieces of the cheese to fall out, but he didn't have much choice in the matter.

While grating the cheese, he had time to think about other things, like the lack of a proper table, chairs, drinks, dessert, and most important of all, a way to rid the room of the smell afterward.

Just to expedite the processes of the latter, he opened the window to let the smell of his cooking out.

On the moment he finished 'grating' the cheese, the very same moment he judged the fusilli pasta was ready, a pot was thrown through the window, hitting Bemaia's right foot.

Instead of cursing out whoever threw a whole pot through his window, he yelled "Thank you!" and just in case it was Francisco who did that, he also yelled, "Get me Two chairs!"

He prayed that Francisco heard that.

Not minding the pain in his right foot, Bemaia took the new pot and immediately cleaned it on the bathroom's sink.

After taking the boiling fusilli out of the Burner, he put the new pot on it, throwing in the bacon first.

While that was sizzling in the pot, he took one of the plates and cracked three eggs, and mixed them, while adding salt, and whatever spice the gods decided to grace him with because he did not have half the mind to sort through that mess.

After drying up the pasta, Bemaia was left with a difficult conundrum.

He needed one more pot, the order of creation mattered little to the recipe, but the order chosen to build the plate, was everything that mattered, and without a new pot, he couldn't do it.

First comes the eggs, on top of that, comes the pasta that will cook the eggs with its own heat, and then comes the bacon and cheese.

He swallowed dry. He would have to make a slight modification to the recipe, much to his despair.

Hopefully, the professor would have mercy on him for his mistake.

Adding the eggs to the pot of the still very hot fusilli and mixing them, the pasta was supposed to take a more clear yellow color, but by adding the element X that was those random spices, the fusilli was now colored with a darker yellow.

He resided himself to fate.

If his dish went downhill because of the spices, then so be it.

He cleaned the used plates and served a portion on each one of the three. He added the cheese and bacon to each plate separately, and, after some struggle with the stash of spices Francisco brought, he added a pinch of oregano to each.

As much as he wanted to sigh with relief, his troubles were far from over.

Francisco had yet to bring in two chairs since they already had one in their room, he was sweating bullets, which called for a bath, and he had yet to figure out a way to find a table and make it presentable.

The bath he would take last, and the table was priority number one.

Cleaning the cabinet Bemaia used as a table, he pushed it into the middle of the room, making space by stacking two beds on each side of the room.

Luck smiled at him once again, as he stared at the, seemingly very expensive, red curtains in the room. Each of the two was big enough to cover the entire window by itself, but the window had two of those.

He took off one of the curtains and gently rested them on top of the cabinet, where he then put the three plates, still steaming, since they've just been made, and the pairs of silverware Francisco brought.

He finally sighed a sigh of relief as his friend came in, somehow holding two chairs with just one hand, and placing them around the cabinet.

Unfortunately, they did not have the time to take a bath, as they heard knocking coming from the door.

Bemaia quickly put on the shirt, still struggling, but the wing fit like a glove through the hole on the back. Glancing quickly at Francisco, he took note of a few major problems with his clothing, but there was no time left to correct them.

He swallowed nothing, as he opened the door.

When the door opened, Bemaia didn't know what to expect from the professor, after all, everything he knew about the man was that he was 'fat', and that description did not help him in picturing the man's personality.

But, as soon as he opened the door, the man in question did not wait for a formal greeting, instead, the teacher spoke in a loud and clear tone. "Well, goodnight to the two newly accepted students."

Bemaia took notice of the plastic bag the rotund man was holding. "I was promised a fine dish, and I am willing to help bake it!"

Bemaia couldn't believe what he heard.

Did he do all that for nothing? The professor wanted to bond with them by cooking!

He sighed, "No need professor, I've already prepared our dinner."

The teacher was big. Wearing a brown-ish red suit that seemed to accentuate his rotundness, his gray hair hinted that one day, it could have been longer than what it currently was.

His thick mustache was his most prominent feature, it was just large enough to hide his lips and keep him into an eternal, unreadable expression since his eyes couldn't also be seen.

Bemaia closed his eyes. He was sure he'd meet an outburst from the professor since he'd tarnished his plans.

However, instead of ire, the professor laughed surprised, "Well, color me, speechless boy! You've done all that in less than twenty minutes?" he asked, looking at the plates on top of the very scuffed table.

Bemaia staggered back a bit, not expecting to receive praise. "Why don't we get in?" Peter was quick on his feet, quickly entering the room as Francisco closed the door behind them.

Setting to the side his plastic bag, the professor quickly took his seat, ever so excited to eat.

"I don't believe we've met before, professor." Bemaia said as he took his seat. Francisco sat down, completely silent, simply because he didn't know what to say to him.

"Ah, pardon my manners. I get very excited when it comes to food." He excused himself. "My name is Peter Port, but you may call me Professor Port."

Bemaia opened his mouth to greet Port, but the professor proved to be far too agile in his speech for him to keep up.

"Excuse my intrusion, but I had to see who were those two strangers that appeared out of nowhere and are now my students."

Francisco laughed, his cheek eyes were glued on the teacher. "We are wondering that ourselves, Professor."

Bemaia quickly cleared his throat, "What he meant, is that we don't know how we got here in the first place." He said as they started to eat.

Then, the silence came.

For but a moment, Bemaia's world seemed to stop, as Peter tasted the pasta he'd prepared.

Then again, nothing.

For what felt like an eternity, Peter tasted the carbonara, and then, after a few seconds, his eyes lit up.

"What dish is this, my boy?"

Bemaia felt his heart sink. He had disappointed him. "Carbonara." he stated, as he braced for impact.

"I've never eaten something like this…"

Bemaia's calm front was starting to crack.

"I like it!" The teacher exclaimed as he took another bite.

Bemaia felt as if all of his worries, all of his sins, had been finally released from him.

"Why, thank you." He said calmly, as he too, enjoyed the fine dish.

"Now, let's be serious for a moment, okay?"

Francisco and Bemaia shared a glance.

"Don't you find it strange that Ozpin decided to let you two in without a mental test?"

Ah, that.

Bemaia did give it some thought, but simply decided against going further in the matter. He was simply happy that he was accepted through those means.

"Well, I've known our headmaster for years now, and I can tell you exactly what he's thinking." Bemaia continued to eat his dish, while Francisco waited for the man to finish his speech.

"He doesn't care if you're capable of passing a simple writing test or not. The real test will come, and I want you to be ready for it." Port opened the bag he brought, revealing a full bottle of whisky and three glass cups. "He'll ask you to do something that will put your lives at risk, but if you succeed, you'll have earned his trust."

He then served it to himself, "You two drink?" After a quick nod from both of them, the professor served them as well.

"I've always wanted to drink with a student of mine." Peter joked.

Bemaia was relieved. The teacher had enjoyed his food, even if his reasons to come were dubious at best.

"Why did you come here?" He asked, as Port just finished his plate. "Very well, I'll go straight to the point then."

He downed the glass he poured to himself, "The headmaster will ask you two to act as a failsafe for a first-year mission, nothing the two of you won't be able to manage, I'm sure." He said, but Bemaia knew that wasn't all.

"But,"

Francisco sighed, he was tired of all of these 'buts'.

"The nature of that mission is to judge you two if you're truly worthy of Beacon. He won't tell you two that, so I came here to do just that, to warn you two of it."

"Well, that's interesting." A person neither of them expected to hear had spoken.

Blake, who had been sitting in the corner of the room for this entire ordeal, had been viciously writing everything that transpired in front of her.

"You've been here the whole time, and didn't want to help me?" Bemaia asked while a feeling of betrayal washed over him.

"I didn't think it was necessary." He sighed, as Francisco got up from his chair and went to the bathroom in complete silence. "Is that so? I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Belladonna." He said as anger dripped from his voice.

Fortunately for Blake, he was way too tired to do anything about it.

A loud belly laugh came from the professor. "Ah, I see you're getting yourself acquainted with the many maidens of the academy, hm?"

Bemaia forced his eyebrow to raise, and Blake simply hid her face behind her notebook, as she laughed. "Well, I shall bother you younglings no longer, but keep in mind that you'll have classes with me tomorrow at eight!"

The teacher left the room, leaving Bemaia to clean whatever was left of the dinner. "Hey, you want a plate as well? You probably skipped your dinner because of me, it's the least I could offer."

Why not, Blake thought, she deserved at least that much after watching him making that dinner alone.

A/N: Now I can safely say that next chapter there will be weapon making! Btw: Bemaia hates Fusilli Pasta.