"Are you sure this thing is safe?" Qrow rubbed his neck as he eyed the large white box with a skeptical eye.
A numpad on its top, the square piece of metal was hitched with several lights that glowed red, yellow, and blue.
"Of course it's safe!" Oobleck rubbed his hands together in excitement. Unlike his peers Qrow and Port, the history enthusiast adorned a snazzy olive-colored suit with a glimmering yellow bowtie.
"But did you have to choose such a precarious location to set the device? This isn't the safest of places you know." Port tugged on his collar as he struggled to balance himself on the rafters high above the guests of the auditorium.
"How could this not be the perfect place for our most ambitious spectacle?" The sparkle in his eyes never fading, Oobleck continued to fiddle with the box's controls as Qrow stepped away to ensure their plan went uninterrupted.
Or so the ravenette said, but it could've been because he was afraid of the after-effects of his cohort's blinking device.
"Oh, by the way, Glynda found herself a date so you'll have to pay up when the reunion ends." Oobleck whistled while clicking some sort of gear inside his contraption.
"That's gotta be a lie!" Qrow growled.
"It's the utmost truth!" Oobleck retorted and dipped his glasses. A smirk of utmost victory plastered on his fair visage, the history lover extended his left hand and demanded his dues for winning the bet while his right remained on the box's buttons.
"Glynda couldn't have found a date in such little time!" The ravenette sputtered. "Besides, while your leader is quite the catch, her attitude is practically a repellant for any romantic advance."
"Hoho!" Port chuckled and wrapped an arm around Oobleck's shoulder. "While that may be true in most occasions, tonight is a hypocrisy of that fact!"
"Prove it!" Qrow demanded in a last-ditch effort to save his hard-earned bounty.
"All you have to do is look toward the swan punch bowl, and all will be clear." The history lover laughed, but as all eyes set on a familiar head of pale blonde hair, brows were furrowed and lips pursed.
Glynda was indeed by the punch bowl, but by her strained smile and twitching eye, her happy facade was chipping away with every remark Ironwood made.
"Huh, I didn't think the tinman and the snooty witch would ever get along." Qrow scoffed and reluctantly slapped his lien bills in Ooblecks palm.
"No... The upstart captain wasn't Glynda's selection, it's supposed to be Summer's moody card reader." Port tugged his mustache with interest.
"What?" The booze lover coughed.
"Hawkins was supposed to be Glynda's date. In fact, my Peachplum told me the stoic blonde looked rather fitting with our leader beside him and she decided to silently excuse herself so the two could share a moment." Oobleck added.
"Then that raises the question," Port hummed, "where did our grumpy tarot reader scuttle off to?"
Their shared goal with the metallic box on hold, three pairs of eyes wandered the auditorium floors with a bird's eye view, but none could identify Hawkins among the gossiping crowds. Seconds passed and by pure luck, Qrow's pupils landed on a familiar figure trailing the playful steps of a rather attractive woman with green hair.
He opened his mouth to notify his friends but bit his tongue as something seemed amiss between Hawkins and this stranger. He didn't know what it was about the situation, but a feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that Hawkins wasn't following his attractive acquaintance willingly.
"Hey, the time for Ms. Schnee's performance is coming up in the next hour. I'm sure Hawkins will find his way back to Glynda by the end of the night, so why not focus on whatever that metal box is Oobleck, with Port standing watch?"
Oobleck shrugged his shoulders and did as he was told, but the former Atlesian scratched his chin.
"And where are you headed off to?"
The ravenette pointed a thumb to a group of silver carts exiting the kitchen doors on the eastern side of the auditorium.
"The waiters just took out a whole ton of free booze and my flask is empty. I gotta make sure to get some of the high-class whiskey because that's the one that always runs out first."
With a promise to meet with his fellow pranksters before Ms. Schnee's performance, Qrow nimbly hopped from one beam to another until reaching one of the ladders leading to the ground floor.
Despite his earlier claims, the young hunter decided that alcohol was a secondary priority, as his first was on the retreating form of Summer's moody card reading friend.
"Alright, Hawkins, let's see what you're up to in the closed-off gardens..."
Carefully weaving past the crowds of chatter and food, Qrow made his way to the courtyard. Secluded from attention, he closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. The hairs on his skin prickling, his lips stiffened and extended as the world around him grew dark.
When he opened his eyes, the chilled air of the night weaved through his ebony feathers as he took to the sky and made his way to the back gardens on the southern borders of the academy.
/-/
"This is an acceptable spot." Monet grinned and sat down on a bench beneath a tall oak tree. She'd been walking for a good while, so her feet had earned a well-deserved rest.
As for her reluctant companion, his crimson eyes wandered to the shattered moon high above and the twinkling stars that surrounded it.
"It's a nice view don't you think?" Monet rested her chin on an open palm as she leaned against the bench's armrest.
"I'm not a fan of lights." The magician sighed.
The greenette tapped her chin. "Hoh? Is the infamous magician of the North Blue afraid of the sun? Perhaps he's a vampire disguised as a human?"
"The sun is the least of my concerns."
"Yes," Monet giggled, "it is isn't it?"
The woman's tone shifted from playful to calm in a heartbeat. "It's a shame that the clock is against us tonight, so I'll get straight to business. Tell me, Hawkins, do you have any ambition for the years to come?"
The former pirate crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Why is my ambition the main topic? Have I done something to earn your concern?"
"...Not yet, but it's important to plan for the future isn't it?" Monet stretched her arms and leaned back into her seat.
"I have a proposition for you, magician, one that guarantees a pleasant and bountiful lifestyle."
Hawkins said nothing, curling a single brow of interest as his random acquaintance rambled on.
"I know quite a lot of people, who's shared goal is to increase their stature in this seemingly docile world. I'm well aware of the crushing defeat you suffered at Sabaody Archipeligo, but there's hope for you yet! It's only a matter of time before the idiotic council and narrow-minded headmasters fall, so why not secure a seat among the winning team when all is burned to the ground?"
Standing from her seat, Monet approached the blonde with an extended hand.
Hawkins eyed the gesture carefully, the gears in his mind grinding to comprehend what he'd just heard. Did Monet belong to a cult or conspiratory organization? Whatever the case, the magician had no reason to become somebody else's pawn if he didn't have to.
His stance unmoving, Monet's smile dropped to a neutral line.
"Why the hesitation?"
"This is all so sudden and vague. Do you expect me to swear my loyalty to a random stranger who asks for my assistance?" Hawkins sighed.
"Is that it?" Monet retracted her arm and moved a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Of course, the newest addition just had to be a smart fellow."
Strutting to meet the magician head-on, Monet planted herself a few inches from Hawkins' frame and rested a hand on her hip. "It's true that I consider your talents beneficial, and since we both come from the North Blue so I suppose I'm slightly biased, but I'd rather have someone like you with us rather than against us."
"If a conflict between the four kingdoms occurs, then you don't have to worry about my contributions. I'm not interested in sticking my neck out for somebody else."
Monet giggled. "Really? Then why did you save those poor farmers from the burning windmill?"
Hawkins stepped back. "How did you know about that?"
"I have my ways..."
The creak of a branch echoing across the dormant gardens, both Hawkins and Monet turned to glance at their surroundings. Their eyes scanning the trees, a single crow was nonchalantly picking at its wing.
"As I was saying..." The greenette rolled her eyes and pulled out her scroll.
"The rope which binds the peace of the four kingdoms is near its snapping point. Haven't you seen the recent news broadcasts and articles? Not only are the Faunus finding it difficult to exercise their rights as citizens; the separation between Mantle and Atlas has strained the relationship between the nobility and the working class."
"This is an excessive amount of speech for a person who isn't involved in international matters." Hawkins cut in.
Monet shrugged. "Information is an invaluable asset no matter what your task is."
Checking her scroll, she sighed as the time between them had run its course. Pulling out a small card from her pocket, she offered it with a demure smile.
"While brief, it's been a pleasure meeting you. I hope we can chat under better circumstances."
Hawkins glanced at the card. It appeared to be an invitation to a restaurant he'd never heard of.
"The noodles sold here are to die for, I'll even treat you when we go on our date."
The blonde's visage vexed. The word date had been stated far too often for his liking, especially since it usually involved him. However, Hawkins had to consider, did he really have a choice in this? The fact that Monet knew about his involvement in the farming district's inferno left a queasy feeling in his gut, and his instincts were screaming that something was amiss.
Not to mention the greenette's gaze was glued to his person. Only using a second here and there to blink.
"I think you should take the card, Hawkins." Bastion, who'd remained as a bystander during the whole ordeal, spoke in a tone of the utmost seriousness. A stark contrast to his usual chirpy demeanor.
"And why should I?" The magician shot back. "All I've done is comply with your advice and look where that's gotten me..."
The spirit chuckled. "It got you a temporary date with a beautiful woman and your very first friend in this vast world of Remnant. Also, while I do question her motives, this Monet woman is rather pretty don't you think?"
Hawkins grit his teeth. "Of all things to prioritize, why should the appearance of a lady be any concern?!"
"Aw come on, learn to live a little, you'll only be alive for Oum knows how long. So why not enjoy the view while you still have eyes?"
"Is that what you think?!" Hawkins blurted. "Do you really want to know what I think about Monet's appearance that badly?!"
The woman in question stepped back and retracted her extended arm. Pursing her lips, she could only wonder what caused the stoic magician to lose face.
"Is that so?!" Hawkins continued. "Well, if you must know, I think Monet is very attractive!"
"U-Um?" Monet's breath hitched as a dusting of pink colored her cheeks. While she did possess a history of being a ruthless officer of the Donquixote Pirates, she was rather susceptible to compliments, though she'd never admit this willingly.
"Her fair skin rivals the brilliant moon! The lush green vines that pass her shoulders emanate the pristine elegance of nature! And her curves, by Oum her curves! They'd put an hourglass to shame any hour, of any day, of any minute!"
His rant done with, the magician mentally facepalmed as he'd allowed his stress to once again pry his mouth open. Veering his sights to Monet with dread, he was stuped at the sight of her reddened visage.
Her brows scrunched and teeth nipping her lower lip, Monet met the blonde's gaze with trembling eyes.
"A-Are you done?" Her voice bordered a squeak.
"...Yes," Hawkins grunted.
"W-Well, I'll see you some time next week. Make sure you show up or e-else." This time she held up two cards, one with the address of her favorite noodle restaurant, and the other appeared to be... a scroll number?
"Perhaps, if I'm feeling generous." The magician shook his head and made his way back to the auditorium, swiping the cards from Monet's hands with renewed vigor.
/-/
"So, how did your peachy greeting with the stoic magician go?" Tyrian grinned as he chugged down what had to be his tenth punch glass. He opted to remain in his combat attire but added a light leather jacket with a Grimm-designed badge on its shoulder.
Monet took a deep breath and poured a cup of strawberry punch. "The results were slow... but satisfying."
"Is that all?" The hidden Faunus quipped. "You told me that you'd have Hawkins wrapped around your finger by the end of tonight, but when he returned from the gardens, he was as grumpy as he was when he got here."
"That doesn't matter," the greenette huffed, "I've piqued his interest and that's enough to get the wheel rolling."
"Alright," Tyrian juggled his empty glass with a cackle. "Though I have to ask, why are you so flustered? Your cheeks have been red since you returned from the gardens."
Monet glared at her cohort. "That's none of your business."
"I think it is, because if you're not ready for battle, how do you expect to get rid of our prickly rose problem?"
"That's not my mission, it's yours." Monet countered. "I'm just here to mingle and gather information, while you were deliberately selected to assassinate the red reaper."
Tyrian shrugged. "I intend to fulfill my goddess wishes to the utmost perfection, but there are a few obstacles littering my road to success. Qrow Branwen and Tai Xia Long, while I'm confident that I can do away with them one on one, their years of shared combat chemistry make them a formidable pair. Not to mention Summer is well renowned for her swordsmanship."
"So what your trying to say is that you're scared." Monet giggled, some of her usual flippant personality taking hold of her demeanor, she downed her punch as the voice of Beacon's headmaster rung from the stage.
"May I have your attention please." Ozpin smiled and tapped his cane twice against the floorboards.
"I regret to inform you, that the performance of Ms. Schnee has taken a minor setback."
Mutters and whispers erupted among the spectators.
"However, while the issues are being resolved, we have many other performances to fill the gap while we wait."
A loud cheer for the band that walked up to the stage, its members totaled six young men with black tee-shirts with the name, The Achieve Men, labeled on their chests. The lead singer, a man with sunglasses and orange hair, thanked Ozpin for his kind words and strummed his guitar. With lots of Clapping and whistles from their fans, the band tapped their heels and started one of their most famous songs, Boogie Till We Drop.
Meanwhile, as the attention of Beacon's former students and staff were diverted on the popular band, a pissed-off Ms. Schnee was currently voicing her aggressive opinion of being sidetracked within the backstage grounds.
"What do you mean my singing partner hasn't shown up yet? Isn't it your job to keep track of these things?!" Willow bit back a snarl as the nervous stage manager hid behind his clipboard.
Adjusting his posture, the suited man straightened himself and coughed into a fist. "I-I'm sorry, Ms. Schnee, we've searched every corner of Beacon Academy, but is nowhere to be found."
"What does he look like?" Willow demanded.
The stage manager rubbed his neck and looked away. "W-Well, he's tall, blonde, and is known to have a dismissive attitude..."
"You don't even know his name?! What has my husband been doing these past few weeks?" Willow balled her hands with the tips of her manicured nails digging into flesh.
The Schnee paced around the room while rubbing her temples. She had every right to be angry! Not only did she learn an entire music piece, in one-night mind you, but she also agreed to swap out her original dress for the one she wore now!
One-hundred percent Valesian silk, the pearl-colored, long-sleeved, dress hugged Willow's curves splendidly contrasting the opaque ebony stockings that ended with white high heels. Her hair tied in a bun with a light blue ribbon, a stray curled lock dangled on the right side of her face.
The stage manager crumbled under the noblewoman's glare. He knew he shouldn't have accepted the role of coordinating this event! He should've stuck to his gig at the small theater, if only he'd kept his wild ambition in check, maybe he'd be better prepared for the big leagues.
Lost in his musings and hidden from sight with his clipboard, the sounds of a loud dispute echoed down the hall earning both his and Ms. Schnee's attention.
"I'm not a singer..." A head of golden locks growled.
"That's a lie and you know it! You match the description of our mystery singer to a tee!" Called the staff members as they did their best to subdue the stoic man.
Peering toward the commotion, Willow's ice-blue eyes narrowed on a muscular figure with blonde hair and pale skin. She couldn't make out any of his facial features due to the distance between them, but he did match the manager's description, albeit vaguely.
The stage manager's hazel eyes brimming with hope, he hurried to quell the possible riot and greeted the blonde man with a friendly smile.
/-/
"Please, don't be rash, there's plenty of fans eager for your shared performance with Ms. Schnee and we cannot disappoint them!" A suited man with a clipboard chuckled.
Hawkins cursed his misfortune. Not only did he have to worry about his recent interactions with Monet, now he had some crazy loons mistaking him for a Valesian singer!
"I told you it'd be better to return to Ms. Goodwitch instead of hiding in the back areas of the auditorium, Hawkins." Bastion sighed as his partner continued to deny the staff's claims.
"I needed some time to myself to elaborate my future decisions with some tarot readings," Hawkins mentally disputed. Though to be fair the magician should have calculated the best place to conduct his internal musings before reentering the auditorium.
"There's not a moment to lose!" The stage manager wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned to a lavishly dressed woman with white hair waiting at the other end of the hall.
"Ms. Schnee, we've found your singing partner!"
"...What?" Hawkins frowned. Despite literally throwing a few of the staff members off his person, their numbers eventually overwhelmed him, and seeing that he couldn't really kill any of them, he was dragged to a changing room where a fancy suit and white mask were waiting for him.
"Make sure your ready in fifteen! We've stalled your audience long enough and now it's time to reward them for their patience!" The stage manager tapped his clipboard and closed the door leaving a most confused magician to consider his next course of action.
Then again, what was there to consider? All Hawkins had to do was step out the door from which he came, and this would all be over. Before he could wrap his fingers around the doorknob, it began to turn for him, and in his panic, he slipped on the mask that was on the table behind him.
"So, you're the man I'm supposed to be singing with tonight?" Spoke a womanly voice.
Hawkins felt a vein bulge on his forehead.
"For the love of Oum..." He muttered under his breath.