A serious crime had occurred within 'From Dust Til Dawn.'

That the store had been picked clean of its namesake was somehow the least obvious sign. Displays were upended. Sections of drywall had been gouged out. Rust-like stains smeared the canvas paneling. No self-respecting owner would have left the building in such a state.

A pristine island amongst the ruins was the purchase counter. Since Dust was only brought there when it was ready to be weighed, the robbers had left it alone. This also made the area a good place from which to stage the forensic investigation.

Behind the stall, next to the bulk scale, a technician sat cross legged on a light-green tarp. The brunette pushed up her sliding glasses. A sweaty nose was making concentration difficult.

Due to a lack of air conditioning, and the prominent hole in the storefront, the shop was incredibly warm. Two running fans did little to improve circulation. She peeled off her white jumpsuit for comfort. The protective barrier made a much better cushion than outerwear.

This small breach in protocol was deemed acceptable. Whatever biological specimens she was going to gather had already been swabbed. Still uncomfortable, but feeling much better, she dove into the latest discovery.

Spread out before her were stacks of important looking documents. Various dates and Dust quantities were printed all over them. Their prominence as the last work-related items that the victim touched increased their probative value.

A thin, rectangular scanner churned through the papers as she fed them in. Her Scroll, which connected wirelessly to the box, pinged with each new electronic copy. When a bundle was finished, she would save the collection to a network folder and move on to the next.

As she set aside the fourth stack, she heard the bell above the entrance door ding. There were crinkling noises from steps on the olive sheeting. Although hidden away in the counter alcove, she thought the visitor would find their way over without instruction.

This was proven incorrect.

"Hello? Anyone there?" Squeaks from rubber soles on bare floor tiles echoed. "Hello?"

"Stay on the tarp!" She yelled.

Laying out a path that would not disturb the crime scene had taken all morning. There would be hell to pay if some oaf messed everything up. To their credit, and her relief, she heard them slowly step back on to the tarp.

That comfort evaporated as the footfalls came closer. They were dead set on speaking with her. Setting aside work for the moment, she looked up in time to see a man in a slim suit wander into view.

"Hey." He greeted with a warm smile that withstood her haggardness. "I don't think we have met before. Detective Shoat."

"Technician Peregrine." She answered back with the customary greeting of position followed by a surname. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

Another courtesy. The forensic technician was far too busy to offer anything. Shoat seemed oblivious to the empty nicety.

"Checking in. Got assigned this case a little while ago and am trying to get up to speed." He craned his head to look around. "Where is everyone else?"

"This is everyone else."

The detective did a full sweep of the interior. If Shoat was hoping he had accidentally overlooked someone, he was in for a disappointment. Coming back to her, he let out a deep groan.

Her sentiments exactly.

X. And Shut Your Mouth

After coming to grips with their shared struggle, he asked. "Have you been working by yourself?"

"Yep."

A couple of officers had helped secure the scene. However, once the barricades were set up and the rubberneckers shooed away, they had to leave. Other assignments needed to be attended to.

Peregrine was okay with the arrangement. The fewer beat cops potentially contaminating the place, the better. She also did not begrudge the quietude that Shoat was now disturbing.

"Definitely drew the short straw." He muttered before speaking up. "Care to give me a rundown of what you have found?"

"It is short. Still processing the evidence."

To demonstrate, she grabbed another handful of papers before loading them up. The scanner whirled and clicked. A light flickered as each page passed through.

"No preliminaries?"

"Haven't had time to write one up."

Certain equipment was needed before she could provide any top sheet information. And their facilities were all the way across town. There was zero chance of her producing a report that day.

"What about direct sources? I know there were no local witnesses, but what about friends, family, or coworkers? Anyone who could shed a light on the victim's daily movements and patterns."

"Not my specialty, but as far as I know, the shopkeeper lived and worked alone."

That a service provider found him the morning after the assault spoke volumes. The other cops had mentioned something about relatives in Mistral. Peregrine wondered if they had not recorded that in the case file.

"Cameras?"

Like a dog with a bone, Shoat was not letting go. With the docs still being scanned, she stood so that he was no longer hovering over her. He was slightly taller, but she was the evidentiary authority.

"Nothing useful was captured. Someone intentionally covered them."

An organic substance had been applied to the lens. Whoever had done so was good. They managed to find the perfect blind spot. The footage immediately beforehand was unhelpful.

She had yet to identify what had been used. It was grayish-white and extremely adhesive. The consistency reminded her of week-old cobwebs. A chemical analysis would be able to ascertain the components. Until then, she could only guess.

"How about from the surrounding buildings? There's a flower shop across the way with an unobstructed view."

"Those were similarly disabled."

"Odd." The detective said in such a way as to invite her to ask why. When she did not play along, he finished his thought. "Besides wearing sunglasses and hats, the thieves from the first robbery did not hide from or tamper with the security systems."

"Foolproof." As in, proof of fools.

"Might have worked. The heist crew were all pretty generic looking. No one would have been able to provide a positive ID. Only their leader stood out, and he was clearly after attention. Wonder why the change of methods?"

"Could be anything."

It was best not to speculate. Doing so ran counter to her duty. As a forensic examiner, she was supposed to be a neutral arbiter of crime scene facts. They were not out to prove whatever outlandish theory the police were peddling.

Her department had been slipping recently over this issue. Some of her colleagues had become a bit too friendly with VPD. The Gangs Unit in particular liked to drop by their offices to schmooze. Peregrine, in contrast, liked to keep her distance. Things were less awkward if she had to testify for the defense in a court case.

Which was probably why she was working alone.

"Suppose you are right."

A long-drawn-out silence came. Yet, Shoat did not seem to be going anywhere. The technician coughed and attempted to end the conversation.

"Well, if there is nothing else..." She gestured out to the unorganized crime scene. "You can go. The 'processing' phase goes slower when people are constantly breathing down my neck. As you have already noticed, I have a lot to do with little support."

At the pace she was on, there was another day's worth of work ahead. With laboratory work on the horizon, she was going to be swamped. Just another reason she could not dawdle with a chatty detective.

"Well, I'm here. What can I do?"

"You're kidding."

"Many hands make for lighter work, right?"

"Yeah, and too many cooks spoil the broth." She tossed back. When he made no motions to leave, she relented. "Fine. Want to play forensic assistant so badly? I have something for you."

She shunted him off to a set-up cubicle in the corner. Bagged and stacked on the shelves within were objects of interest, such as powered-off electronics and other non-degradable samples. A console with a printer attachment was set up beside the numerous pigeonholes.

"What am I doing?"

"Basic data entry. Everything we are taking needs to be recorded in the chain of evidence. Take a picture, type up a description, create a label, and sign your name."

None of this was expected to be useful. She had already separated out the promising items. However, they had to be thorough. Any future court case could be undone by improperly recorded evidence.

Instead of balking, he slipped off his jacket. "I'll get to it."

"Have fun." She left him to the busywork.

The two went about their tasks in their respective corners. From time to time, Peregrine would dump new items on his collection. Upon each visit, the pile of unprocessed evidence shrunk.

Much to her chagrin, Shoat was good at repetitive tasks. Double checking his notations revealed that his attention to detail was almost as great as her own. Accepting that he knew what he was doing, she focused all of her energies on the remaining chores.

/ / /

Everything had gone to plan. Roman talked them into the facility, Neo was positioned, and the gang leader was distracted. All the setup objectives were complete.

So why did Jaune Arc feel a rising unease in his stomach?

In a word, his nerves were shot. He kept thinking about the undisclosed dangers at Madam A's cabaret club. Knowing that Roman had misled him had strained what little trust had existed between them. Now Jaune wondered if he had fallen for the same trick twice.

Before a great metal tank, he regretted many things. Not having a fume mask was high on the list. Smelly steam plumed out from between seams and rusted rivets.

With the sounds of sloshing liquids obscuring his voice, Jaune hissed. "I think we're in too deep."

"Too deep?" His passenger rumbled, in high spirits for a spirit. "This is nothing! I'll tell you when we're in too deep."

Oddly enough, and against his better judgment, this did put Jaune at ease. It was easy to forget that Roman had done things like this before. The problem was the boy was unused to these kinds of charades.

His experience with deception began and ended with fibbing about how many sweets he had before a family dinner. Other models of behavior included cartoons, where villains lied to gain trust before a betrayal. Jaune liked to think he was a good guy.

Yet here he was. About to betray someone. That they were scummy drug peddlers did not make it any better.

In some ways, this was worse. If he was a true hero, would he not have just shut them down without skulking about? Did Roman and Neo really need to rob them? Or follow through on the orders of another that neither respected?

There was much to consider. His host, Shaw, was not inclined to give him the space to do so. The High Fly Flow leader was intent to fill the verbal silence as they waited for the return of their associates.

"So that piece of tail you came in with…"

"Yeah?" Roman asked.

"Ever tapped that?"

That Shaw spoke like his old gym coach did little to endear him to Jaune. Still, he was not ready to condemn someone for being a colossal jerk. Roman provided a very reasonable rejoinder.

"Nah. I prefer my sharries attached."

"Bit of a hellcat?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Shame. I've had troubles with chicks like that myself."

The tank lurched. Jaune instinctively took a step back. Shaw did not so much as flinch as it rumbled and roiled intensely.

"Say pally-wal. Your vat is vibrating."

"Nothing to worry about. All part of the cook." He picked at his forehead bandages. "Although, I may have added too much drain cleaner. That could be making the batch a little unstable. Some Dust flakes ought to balance everything out."

"Dust flakes?" The teen was the one to ask this time.

"Chaff that local businesses throw out. Y'know, from their HVAC systems. The stuff is cheap, plentiful, and a perfect binder."

Roman took over again. "How does that not kill off your entire customer base?"

Jaune had the same question. Dust was dangerous to handle bare handed. The elemental crystals could cause serious damage.

His parents had drilled that lesson into him and his sisters' heads whenever they bought fuel for their home. The pretty lights in the glass cylinders were not toys. Purposely inserting that into a person's body seemed like a bad idea.

"It'll definitely kill 'em." Misshapen teeth filled out his gruesome sneer. "Doesn't matter though. The high is too much for them to ignore. With the right ratio, they'll spend every last red lien they got before popping off."

If Jaune had any lingering doubts about putting the Flows out of commission, those had been squashed. Such callous disregard for lives caused an ugly flicker of anger to bubble under his skin. Neither of the crooks noticed how his hands curled into a tight fist.

"And this ratio?"

"Trade secret."

"Hey, I'm not getting into the business. Just some professional curiosity. The process must be fascinating."

"Nah. It's barely a step up from any other shake and bake recipes I know."

"Remind me not to eat any of your home-cooked meals."

"Like I'd ever-" Above them, there was a crash. Something heavy had tipped over. "What was that?"

"Someone must have tripped." Roman coolly responded.

Another loud bang. This time, a series of thuds. Some rigorous activity was happening in the upstairs office.

"What are those morons up to?" Shaw groused. "Better not be another slap fight."

"I'm sure it's nothing serious."

Cries of agony started up. What sounded like a meek plea for mercy reached their ears. Jaune was familiar with those particular noises. He had made plenty of them earlier that day.

Then there was the heaviest boom yet followed by distressing silence.

"I should go check on that." The gangster made a turn for the staircase. "If they broke anything up there, so help me."

Alarm bells rang in Jaune's head. He was supposed to keep Shaw occupied while Neo dealt with the others. Panicking about complications from an early arrival, the huntsman-to-be acted.

Jumping onto the larger man's back, Jaune wrapped his elbow hinge around Shaw's Adam's apple and his legs around the torso. The teen had read about martial art holds that could make people pass out. He tried his best to emulate them.

If this tactic was working, he could not tell. All it seemed to accomplish was make Shaw angrier. He flailed and cursed up a storm. Jaune tucked in to avoid taking the full brunt of an errant headbutt.

The High Fly Flow leader landed on a new strategy. He ran backwards, slamming into the tank. Jaune heard the metal groan as his Aura rippled. Despite the discomfort, he held on as they both fell over.

In the jumble that ensued, Jaune ended up on top. However, he lost his grip. He tried desperately to re-establish the hold. Shaw bucked upwards to throw his attacker off.

"Forget the fancy stuff! Hurt him anyway you can!"

Taking the advice, Jaune began to do so. He targeted anything that was available with elbow and knee strikes. The wiggling form beneath him made direct hits difficult.

Realizing he was getting nowhere with body shots, and recalling Shaw's pre-existing injuries, Jaune gripped some neck scruff. He ground the guy's head into the concrete. Squeals assaulted his senses.

What felt like hours of this punishment passed. The pain was eventually too much. Finally, Shaw went limp.

Jaune held on longer than necessary, not out of malice but because of heightened adrenaline. When his clouded brain cleared, he let up. His chest expanded and retracted rapidly as he looked over his handiwork.

"I… did it."

"You sure did. Congrats on beating up a strung-out junkie."

When put that way, the accomplishment was rather small. At the same time that was the first life-or-death struggle the teen had been involved in. And he had won. He was content to savor the victory.

Random applause had Jaune looking up from his defeated foe. Neo, back in her normal form, leered from a nearby chair. When noticed, she gave him two thumbs up.

Her seat groaned. Upon closer inspection, the chair was in actuality a pile of dazed and bruised men stacked belly to back. The one on the very bottom had been stripped of his clothes. Jaune was not sure why, but that she had done that for no discernable reason disturbed him the most.

"Were you there the whole time?"

A 'more-or-less' gesture was her answer. In the time it had taken him to subdue Shaw, she had finished her own objective, carried the prisoners downstairs, and arranged them into a throne. That was discouraging.

In hindsight, Jaune was unsure of why he had gone on the offensive. Roman had not asked him to get involved. Neo could have dealt with a surprise guest easily. She demonstrated this soon enough after strolling over to them.

"Wha-" Shaw stirred as he lifted his head, eyes going wide at Neo. "You again!?"

She mockingly touched her face in an 'awe shucks' kind of way. Then she did a quick pirouette that ended with a heel to his chin. He collapsed again.

"Do I want to know?" Her reply was a simple shrug.

From her shoulders, she unstrapped a sports bag. Dropping the tote to the ground produced a great clacking shift from within. Because the top flap was unzipped, they could all see the mosaic of colored cards inside.

The boy's jaw dropped. It was the largest amount of physical money he had ever seen in his life. Roman was not as impressed.

"That's all? Barely worth rolling out of bed for."

The lethal woman gave an affirming nod. Once again, Jaune's mind was blown. How large could their usual hauls be?

"Could be one of those instances where the true value was in the friends we made along the way. Yeah, that's got to be it. Which is why saying goodbye to them is so hard. Oh well." Roman's breezy phrasing sent a chill through the air. "Neo, if you would please."

She licked her lips. Pulling out her blade, she stooped over Shaw to raise his neck. The knife paused when Jaune placed his hand between the two.

Neo gazed up. There was a ravaging swirl of raw emotion to be found in her stare. He held firm, although shaken by what he saw.

"I-Isn't this a bit extreme?"

Jaune tried to say this low enough for only the three of them to hear. Emphasis on try. His heart was beating so loud, he was unsure if he was screaming.

"Junior wanted an example made." Roman repeated the request.

"He did not say specifically how, right?"

Maybe the Flows deserved whatever Neo was about to do. The misery they caused through their actions was incalculable. But he was unprepared to cross that line.

"It was implied." Roman rolled out a put-upon sigh. "What would you propose we do with them?"

"Tie them up for the police?"

"Those same police they were paying off?" Jaune winced at the reminder. "Actually, that may work. Especially if we leave them in a way that the cops can't ignore. Might serve our interests better as well. Alright, you sold me."

Not everyone was on board. Neo had not moved away from Shaw. She had pressed the knife up to his exposed flesh while they were talking. Roman still had to convince her.

"Come on. Do you really want to dirty Hush with bums like these?"

His direct words broke her trance. She was clearly conflicted. After mulling it over, she put away her blade. The teen sagged. He was both glad and terrified at how close he had come to witnessing a murder.

/ / /

Down at Vale General Hospital, the city's second-largest medical facility, people in blue and pink scrubs briskly moved about. Sounds of shuffling paper and conversations batted around. Interspersed were loud pings from electronic dispensers opening for withdrawals.

There was no emergency. This was a run of the mill mad dash to complete tasks before a mandatory shift change. Their last chance to ensure a smooth transition.

While other support staff dreaded it, Nurse Tawney was more than ready to hand off her duties. After a fourteen-hour workday, she was sore, tired, and hungry. All the energy from her fruit salad lunch had burned away.

Sat at her station, she checked over the documentation for her charge's current dosages and check-up protocols. It was important to make sure that everything had been accurately recorded. Mistakes were costly in her line of work.

While finishing a fourth read-through, she felt a presence behind her. This was common enough. Occasional breaches of personal space were inevitable between co-workers.

What was unusual was a masculine hand suddenly blocking her view.

"Guess who?" A homey tone rumbled in her ear.

"Hmmm. Tough one. Film action star Spruce Willis?"

The hand was pulled back and replaced by her husband's chin on her shoulder. "How'd you know?"

She laughed and leaned back for a kiss. A butterfly peck on the lips. Longer displays of affection would have to wait until she was officially off the clock.

Filing away the report for the next nurse, she swung around in her chair. Earnie looked as worn out as she felt. His formerly fresh pressed suit was wrinkled and smudged. The tie was loose enough to pull off with a light tug.

Still, he tried to put on a show. From behind his back, he produced a modest pot of purple hydrangeas. Her favorite. She took the offering with a wide grin.

"This is a surprise! What brings you my way, handsome?"

"Saw the time and figured I'd pick you up for an early dinner and maybe a matinee."

"Sounds like a plan." She perked up for a date night while setting the ceramic vessel in her lap. "We'll need a sitter."

"Already taken care of. Your brother owed me a favor."

"Look at you! My man taking care of business." The way his smile faltered had her mirror him. "Rough day?"

"Hectic. Got moved off a case and on to another. Now I'm playing catch up."

"They took you off the high-rise killings?"

"Right, I forgot I mentioned that to you."

There was a passing conversation earlier that morning. He had been on his way to bed while she was heading out. Seeing her, he stopped to make them breakfast before turning in. It had been his way of apologizing for running late.

"What happened?"

"Workplace politics." Earnie sighed. "Too many special interests and not enough people wanting justice. Probably for the best. That investigation won't end well, even if they arrest someone."

Noticeably, he had not said if they arrested the right someone. Her husband tended to wear his heart on his sleeves. He was incapable of hiding his real thoughts on a matter. It was the reason he had been passed over for promotion, despite all of his experience and success.

It was also why she loved him so much.

"What's the new one?"

"Aw, you don't want to hear about that."

"Sure I do." Less so the case than to get Earnie to talk about something else.

"Well, it's a robbery and assault combo. Could be upgraded to felony murder if the victim does not make it."

"Yikes."

"I just got it, and the case has already been bungled."

The major issues he was facing were great: jumbled evidence; lack of witnesses; few investigative resources. In other words, Earnie had been set up to fail.

There were times Tawney would get so steamed at the department's rotten culture that she would suggest he quit and go private. The Schnee Dust Corporation had once tried to hire him to be their internal investigator. That offer might still be open.

He would always say 'no.' That he had to keep trying, reform had to come internally, and other weak justifications. The only excuse that resonated with her was that he was only a few years away from early retirement.

At least there was a timer on this miserable job.

When her husband got to the victim's injuries, she started to think the circumstances sounded familiar. This feeling increased with the man's general description. At last, she stopped Earnie when they got to his profession.

"Oh! The shopkeeper! We've been treating him here."

Their latest patient was brought in around the start of her shift. Tawney had been the attendant to stabilize his fluid levels. Each hour she checked to make sure he did not backslide into dehydration.

"You are?"

"Don't sound too shocked. You are standing in the premiere trauma ward."

That was not hyperbole. Doctors and registered nurses would come from all over the world to learn at Vale General. Half their residents were from other kingdoms. Kuo Kuana, the majority faunus independent city, had even sent a cohort.

"No, I mean I knew he was here. I was just surprised that you specifically-you know what? I'm going to stop talking now."

"Probably for the best." She aped back while smelling the flowers.

"Since we're on the subject, how is he?"

She shook her head. "They are giving him a fifty-fifty chance of pulling through, which may be generous. He has yet to regain consciousness for any significant amount of time."

"Why such low odds?"

"A number of factors are dragging him down. His advanced age is a big one. At a certain point, the body is just not able to repair itself. Then there are the head wounds. Those are… problematic."

Brain injuries were unpredictable. Medical professionals hated treating them. The rules they learned for other parts of the body, such as the heart or lungs, did not seem to apply up there.

A month ago, Tawney had treated a construction worker. He had been walking around a build site without protective equipment. Loose concrete fell three stories onto his crown. Luckily, he was left with nothing more than a nasty welt and a newfound respect for hard hats.

On the opposite end was a mother of three who came to the clinic complaining of dizzy spells and a headache. She attributed this to having banged her head on her car roof. During the check-up, she collapsed and became unresponsive. During an autopsy, they discovered she had suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

There was no outside bruising that hinted at this.

Tawney must have looked distressed, as he touched her shoulder. "Sorry."

"It's… thanks."

The registered nurse had lost plenty of patients. That was the nature of the medical field. They could not save everyone. Each loss still took its toll.

"I guess we both need to take our minds off of work."

She would agree with that.

Minutes later, her replacement arrived. Tawney spent some time giving the next nurse an overview of the day's events. He was a bright kid, fresh out of school. It did not take long to get him up to speed.

Gathering her things, she met up again with Earnie. He had been waiting near the exit while she briefed the new guy. They were two steps out the door when she slapped her forehead and turned back.

"Hold on. Before we go, I should drop by the shopkeeper's room. It would be jarring if we handed off his care for the evening without letting his visitor know."

That would be the kind thing to do. The poor girl looked lost as it was. She did not need the shock of a different nurse waltzing in.

Earnie blinked. "Visitor?"

/ / /

He looked so small.

That was her first thought upon seeing him again. The medical bed was three times his size in both height and width. Green polycotton sheets, like an ailing tongue threatening to swallow, swaddled the frail form.

She had almost not recognized the man. When the nurse had brought her to his bedside, she had asked if they were in the wrong room. After receiving reassurances that they were in the right place, she looked closer and had been astonished.

Swelling had made his wrinkled face look like a black and blue catcher's mitt. The only feature she could pick out as familiar was the bald top of his head. Using that as a reference, she determined that this was indeed the old shopkeeper.

Silver eyes went blurry. She wiped at the edges of her vision with her red hood. The fabric was comforting against her cheek.

"Excuse me, Ms."

The address from behind had her straighten up. She rubbed more tears away and turned to the open hospital room door. The nurse from before, an older woman with pixie-cut black hair, was there.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt. A detective — my husband — is wondering if you would speak with him." Nurse Tawney then added on quickly. "You're not in trouble. He is investigating the circumstances behind your friend's injuries. If you are not up to it, I can tell him-"

"It's fine. Where is he?"

She wanted to help. Wanted to not feel useless.

The nurse ushered her out into the hallway. Walking next to each other, the girl fidgeted with each step. She smoothed out her combat skirt to distract from the anxiousness. Smells of cleaning solution and flowers followed them.

They soon arrived in a quarter-full waiting room. The seated people were occupied with their Scrolls, occasionally looking up when someone entered. Most of those that did saw the female pair and returned to their devices. One did not.

A thin man in a suit stood. He gestured them over to the opposite side of the room, away from the others, to meet up. The nurse spoke first.

"I'll be right over there." She pointed to her station. "Call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

"Can do."

"Didn't mean you, Earnest." She chided before reassuring the girl. "If he asks you an uncomfortable or dumb question, feel free to give him the silent treatment. Brothers know that's what I do."

"You are the wind beneath my wings." He huffed.

She kissed him on the cheek before strolling away. The two left behind watched her go. There was an awkward silence before he began.

"Hello there. Detective Shoat." He pulled a wallet out from his jacket and flashed a badge, just like in the movies.

"Ruby." She returned politely. "Ruby Rose."

"Rose. Rose. Rose." He mulled over her surname while returning the wallet and pulling out a small notebook. "Oh! You were one of the responding huntresses."

"Huntress-in-training, actually."

"Really? Which academy?"

"Signal Preparatory right now. Beacon starting next semester."

As in, at the end of that very month. Provided she passed initiation. And Headmaster Ozpin not retracting the offer. And that the Bullhead to Beacon did not crash and-

The policeman interrupted her thought train to nowhere. "Wow. Not even enrolled in one of the big four yet, and already helping the community. Impressive."

"Just doing what I can." She dug her booted toe into the ground.

"Well, I do not want to take too much of your time. I assume my darling wife told you why I wanted to speak with you?"

"Yes, although I'm not sure how much help I can be."

"Me either." He frankly stated. "Don't worry too much about that. Think of this as a friendly chat."

"I can do that."

Ruby took a deep breath. Her sister was always telling her to do that when she got flustered. Yang had always been better at talking with new people. She was not there at that moment, so it was time to be a big girl.

"How did you know the Dust shop owner?"

"I buy stuff from his store every now and then. He seemed nice, if not a little grumpy whenever I read his magazines before buying."

"So, you were not close?"

"Not really…"

"OK. When did you find out he was hurt?"

"A few hours ago. It made the news roundup."

A clip had been playing on the Bullhead into the city. In passing, the female anchor had mentioned that an elderly man had been injured during an armed robbery. The second to occur at the same location. When they showed a picture of the shopkeeper, Ruby went numb.

Once they landed, the huntress-to-be rushed over to the closest hospital. From there, she asked around. An administrator directed her to Vale General.

"Since you go to Signal, does that mean your family lives outside the walls?"

"Our house is on Patch."

"Ah. An island girl. That's convenient given Signal is right there."

"Not always. We have to make day trips for supplies we can't get out there."

That was why she was in the city that very day. She had also planned to exchange some textbooks. Signal and Beacon had completely different curriculums, and not all of the required readings could be found electronically.

"Makes sense. So, the night of the first robbery was during one of those trips? What happened there? How'd you get involved?"

Her heart sank at the word first. "Uh, I, um, was looking around when a guy in red shades and a gun came up to me. With my headphones on, I thought he was asking for assistance."

"But he was robbing the place."

"Yeah." She could recall the look of astonishment when she brought out her own weapon. "Things kind of escalated from there."

"I'll say." The detective snorted.

"You're not, like, mad about it, are you? Me doing my thing?" She made some exaggerated hand chopping and kicking movements.

Ms. Goodwitch and the officers down at the station had been incensed at her involvement. Her father as well. The only one who had not been upset was the Beacon headmaster. Even he had seemed more accepting of the situation than happy.

"In the future, I would urge you to leave such actions to the police and licensed huntsmen." She looked down at her feet again. "However, given the circumstances, I believe you acted appropriately. Damage was kept to a minimum and the perps were caught. Good job."

Somehow, the praise was worse than being chewed out. "We did not catch them all. The ringleader got away."

"Roman Torchwick, you mean?" She nodded glumly. "Don't beat yourself up over that. He's more slippery than a greased-up pig. We've been after him for years and he always gets away scot-free."

Except, that was not completely true.

Ruby had nightmares about her confrontation with Torchwick. The moonlit rooftop she had cornered him on. Red dripping from between his finger clutched ribs. That horrible, horrible laugh.

Then there was the desperation in his eyes. He looked so afraid. Like his life was over if she caught him.

"Was he behind the second robbery?"

"He is a suspect." The policeman admitted. "Having tried to rob the store twenty-four hours earlier puts him at the top of the list."

"Did…" She stopped, wondering if she wanted to know the answer. "Did this happen because of me?"

Detective Shoat furrowed his brows. "How do you mean?"

"When I stopped Torchwick for the first time…" Her voice cracked. "Did that make him more violent?"

Before, they had tried to take the Dust carefully. The situation had only turned ugly when she had started chucking guys through windows. They had been about to leave the shopkeeper behind. What if her actions had forced them to be more aggressive the next time through?

If she had not stepped in, they may have only left with the Dust. The store owner would have been poorer that day. But he would have been unharmed.

"Huntsmen have tried to stop him before. That never changed how he operated."

"Had any of them ever hurt him as much as I did?"

"You can't control other people's actions, only your own."

"Heh." She sniffed, tears starting to form again. "My uncle says similar things."

"Smart man."

"He has his moments."

They talked for a while more. Ruby tried her best to answer everything she could. She knew very little outside of the initial robbery. So, they spent time going over the filed incident report. Some of the specifics had not made it into the record.

Detective Shoat asked many questions about Torchwick's injuries. He seemed keen on understanding where the thief had been hit by the ricocheting bullet. Particularly of interest was if she thought the wounds were debilitating.

In truth, which Ruby told the detective eagerly, she believed the thief was going to die. It was why she had tried to get him medical care. That was also why she had not expected the grenade launched from his cane.

"Alrighty then. I've held you back long enough." The notebook was flipped closed and returned to his jacket. This time, his hand pulled out a business card, which he handed to her. "Let me know if you think of anything else."

"I will."

"Or if you need someone to talk to. My door is always open. Tawney's as well."

She nodded, stuffing the card away into a pocket. With his piece said, he strolled over to his wife. They left together hand-in-hand.

Ruby watched them go. Then her feet took her back to the shopkeeper's room. She needed to say goodbye. Her father would worry if she stayed much longer. The last of the afternoon flights to Patch would be leaving soon.