Holy crud this chapter killed me! Sorry that I'm a day late in the seven-day delivery, but there's been a lot going on for me and I won't bore you with the details. There really isn't much for me to say here, other than there'll be a short recap chapter after this one, and with it comes the Patch arc.
Man, I really can't wait to start writing about a six-year-old Jaune and his stoic dad!
With that, cheers all, and have a wonderful day!
As the curtains of Beacon's celebrations came to a close, the laws of time took hold of Vale once more and its citizens obeyed swimmingly. Ironwood had returned, but instead of a snazzy suit, the captain had slipped on his usual Atlesian uniform and used a tablet and pen instead of a gun.
He, and a few others, saw to it that the once decimated Valesian farms were once again restored. Both with new state-of-the-art facilities, and humble abodes for the homeless. Though none of the homes reached past a single floor. While the captain and his engineers worked to rebuild, the members of team GPPO resumed their duties as hunters and had just returned from a mission in the western parts of Mistral.
Thus we are brought to the current predicament of team STTQ. Though they lacked their secret Faunus, they did well to deter any potential Grimm threats and acts of thievery that followed the burnings of the agricultural district. However, Summer did step down from her role as leader and often swapped roles with Tai when Ms. Mallari didn't have time to babysit Yang.
Which brings us to the question, where was our cackling sadist, Tyrian Callows? The answer, that he was much closer than one would think. Stationed in a large corner booth of Monet's favorite noodle shop, the scorpion Faunus tossed an empty teacup and caught it over and over again.
"What's taking that special magician so long? Didn't you say the time to meet was ten on the dot?"
"Please, Tyrian, could you act like an adult for five minutes?" Monet sighed.
Dressed in a simple set of orange striped pants, a green tank top with the word 'HAPPY' imprinted on its chest covered her upper torso with a dark green bra beneath. To finish the casual outfit was a pair of blue rubber sneakers and thin white socks.
"I would if you'd care to enlighten me on this investment. I've already said countless times that Hawkins won't do as he's told willingly. If you really want that gloomy man to join our ranks, I'd recommend force." Tyrian huffed.
"Do you honestly think that I haven't taken that into consideration?" Monet quipped. "I've already contacted Vergo-san, and he should be here momentarily."
Tyrian frowned and his cup theatrics ceased. "You mean that bland tape-face? Why does he have to be here? I thought he was keeping an eye on our twitchy croc in Mistral?"
The greenette rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't consider Crocodile as a direct servant of our mistress. He's already proven difficult to manage, and his past reputation from the grande line proves this. Not to mention that former warlord was never interested in alliances where he wasn't the boss."
Tyrian opened his mouth for a snarky remark, but the sudden swipe of the booth's black curtain froze their tongues. Taking a seat beside Monet and across from Tyrian, the man wore a cream-colored trench coat and rectangular sunglasses. A bitten piece of toast on his right cheek, he crossed his arms and spoke.
"But he'll serve his purpose for now. I don't know what Crocodile is planning, but he hasn't done anything that's worthy of our suspicion. On another note, why did you want me here, Monet?"
His partner in crime smirked and poured him a cup of green tea.
"I wanted to hear your thoughts on having Hawkins join our ranks. He might be lazy and broken, but his habit of meticulously reaching his goals hasn't changed one bit. Perhaps we can use that husk of a pirate to our advantage?" Monet said.
Vergo hummed and sipped his tea. "If that's the case, then I need to gauge his strength. He was a member of the worst generation, which means he was grouped in with that damn straw-hat."
"Why are we talking as if Hawkins is some sort of unstoppable monster?" Tyrian cut in. "Trust me, Vergo, I've seen what that magician is capable of and I can't say I'm impressed. Hawkins is probably good enough for two missions at best, but once we compare him to the higher tiers of our Godess' order, he'll die like the pathetic weakling he is."
Vergo quirked a brow and turned to Monet. "Is this true? I'd rather leave Hawkins be if all he's going to do is add dead weight to our operations."
The woman at the table giggled softly. "Hawkins more motivated than you think, at least when his carefree life is at stake. While his mind may have been shattered, his combat abilities are above those of your average hunter, so why not give him a try and see how far we can use him before he finally breaks?"
Vergo pondered the thought, as did Tyrian. Having someone to do their grunt work sounded pleasing, and Monet was given the task of recruiting new members into their sinister circle.
"I'll allow Hawkins a fair battle, but if he fails to meet my standards, then I want nothing to do with him." The assassin said flatly.
"You're actually giving that gloomy card reader a chance?" The scorpion Faunus grumbled. "Hah... I guess Monet is really only doing this because of those overly sweet compliments she got."
Vergo tilted his head as a faint dusting of pink spread on Monet's cheeks.
"Hmph, all because that stupid blonde has a flattering tongue, that doesn't mean I'll spare him. I offered Hawkins a seat at our table because he hails from the North Blue and shares Vergo-san's and my history as pirates. Besides, it's better to know what a man with a devil fruit is doing in his spare time."
The greenette turned away to hide her reddened visage.
"Excuse me, Ms. Monet?" A server asked from behind the curtain.
"Yes?"
"There's a tall blonde man who says he's supposed to be seated with you. Is this true?"
"Is his name Hawkins?"
The server nodded. "That is correct."
"Then please, show him in." Monet's smile showed a tad too many teeth.
The server excused himself and on his departure, Vergo spoke.
"Tyrian, I don't believe your presence here is necessary. Why don't you do what you're good at and skulk around the alleys for petty profits?"
"What?!" The scorpion Faunus fumed and jumped on the table with his weapons drawn.
"I said you aren't needed here. If you can't read between the lines, then I'll be more than happy to clear them up for you. After all, I'm sure our mistress would be pleased to hear that you defied a direct order from your superior." Vergo exclaimed.
His height of 8'1" naturally intimidating, the assassin's cohort actually hesitated and shoved his hands in his pocket with a pout.
"Fine, but after all is said and done, I get to kill little red riding hood."
"I thought you took care of that already? Don't tell me Summer still lives." Vergo sighed.
"I've been trying to get around to it, but Watt's is always calling me for favors!"
"Nevermind, we'll deal with the silver-eyed annoyance eventually. Now go, Hazel is at the docks with a very special delivery, and what he has cannot be misplaced, understand?"
"...Fine." Tyrian opened the window of their booth with a nasty scowl and jumped through it, grumbling all the while.
/-/
"This has to be the place." Qrow hummed as he stared at the sign of the large noodle house, the sign atop the front door reading: Ye Old Dumpling and Noodle House.
"Kinda sketchy that the time for their meeting is right around to closing hours." He wiped his nose as a cold chill passed under it.
The building would be a decent place for private meetings, as the simple location was erected during the commercial district's late expansion. Thus it was mostly surrounded by constructions sites whose workers clocked out after 3:00 pm.
"Excuse me, are you waiting for a table, sir?" A short male teen with a black shirt and red apron gestured to the restaurant.
Qrow grinned. "Yeah, but I want a specific table if that's okay with you."
"Of course, but you might be put on the waiting list if that table is occupied."
The hunter nodded, but his eyes shifted toward a familiar head of long golden hair and the trademark ruffle-collared cloak that accompanied it.
Dragging his feet, Hawkins wore a weary expression one would affiliate with a dead man walking. Whatever purpose he had for coming here, the magician was clearly didn't want to attend. Then again, from his eavesdropping of Hawkins' encounter with Monet, Qrow could safely conclude that the moody blonde was being threatened in some shape or form.
"Excuse me, sir, please follow me to your table." The server said with a curious expression.
"Sorry about that, how about you give me this table here?" The hunter plucked a menu from a box hitched to the front door and was pleased to find the layout also included. He pointed to the table he wanted, one that was only a wall away from Monet's, and happily followed the server into the restaurant.
"Forgive me, but are you expecting other guests? Those booths usually house up to six people and aren't worth the price if you plan on dining alone."
"Don't worry about that, I have a few pals who'll be dropping by soon enough," Qrow replied.
"Very well," the server said happily, "please follow me to your table."
As Qrow strolled into the broth-scented establishment, his gaze never left Hawkins' back as the blonde reluctantly passed through a black curtain.
/-/
"Ah, magician, so nice of you to join us." Monet smiled a little too nicely and offered the man a cup of steaming tea.
Hawkins slowly took a seat across from Monet, and a man he'd never seen before. His crimson eyes focused on the mystery man, his gaze flicked to the piece of toast on his cheek then to his dark sunglasses. The stranger returned the stare with a stoic one of his own and an uncomfortable silence emerged between the two. A few seconds passed and it was Monet who broke the staring contest with a playful hum.
"Now that we're all here, why don't we get down to business?" The woman said calmly.
"If it's about my recruitment you can forget about it. I'm not for hire and I don't need lien, so if that's all you've summoned me for, then I'll be on my way." Hawkins scoffed.
"Not so fast!" Monet urged the blonde to return to his seat. "There's plenty of topics to cover today, and they're all revolved around you."
"It's rather late in the day for such discussions..."
"But these tardy hours are perfect for private conversations, don't you think?" The logia woman smirked.
Hawkins quirked a brow and did as he was told. He'd done several tarot readings over the past couple of days, and many of them included combat. Though he assumed he'd be fighting Monet herself, the looming danger of the trench-coated man was now a variable he'd have to account for.
"Very well, what sort of proposition have you devised this time?"
Monet flicked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and turned to the coated stranger. His voice low and stoic, he addressed himself as Vergo and the superior of Monet. The magician didn't seem impressed but kept those thoughts to himself.
"Monet's primary task in our forces is to find those who arrived from the other world and offer them employment. I've been informed that you're a meticulous man, Hawkins, and those are the kind of people that we need among our ranks." Vergo said slowly.
"As I said earlier, I'm not-"
"I know you're not interested." Vergo cut Hawkins off. "However, I do believe that my associate has already prepared for your lack of cooperation. Monet, if you will."
The greenette pulled out a paper folder and placed its contents on the table.
Hawkins blinked once then many times. They were newspapers... of him... during his prime days as a pirate?!
The thought seemed impossible, but there he was with sword in hand, laying several lives to waste as his old bounty poster resurfaced, the face imprinted on it holding nothing but apathetic cruelty and a desire to kill for his ambitions.
The magician shot straight from his seat with his hand on the hilt of his blade.
"How..." Hawkins mumbled.
"I told you earlier, didn't I?" Monet smirked. "We were born from the same sea and your reputation as a member of the worst generation spread far and wide in both the grande-line and new world. Is it really that surprising that I, who serves the role of an information gatherer, would gather parts of your history?"
"But these articles are long past credibility." The magician growled.
"For now," Monet leaned on the table and rested her chin on her palm, "but with a little help from the press and my several connections; the hunters and authority figures of Remnant would find themselves a bounty too hard to resist. Which means you'd have to abandon the peaceful life you so deeply desire."
"No one will believe you..." Hawkins' tone lacked confidence.
"Really?" The greenette giggled. "My influence in Vale isn't too big, but Mistral is a different story. That kingdom is riddled with bounty hunters and petty villains hoping to make a quick buck. If I so much as flap your bounty poster at them, they'd be on you like starving dogs. Not to mention all those affiliated with you. What were their names again? Oh, that's right, Carla and Sam Acres."
The blonde's blood ran cold, his brows vexed, a drop of sweat trickled down his forehead as Vergo stood.
"So what will it be, oh great magician of the North Blue, would you be willing to complete a few small jobs for us? Or lose all that you hold dear in a single day?"
Hawkins grit his teeth and sat back down. The assassin who loomed over him also retracted, but kept his searing gaze right on him and spoke.
"While this situation does not favor you, we do not wish for the members in our circle to perform their duties due to threats and the like. However, I've been informed that you've made ties with teams STTQ and GPPO, both of which are indirectly stifling our operations with their contributions to Grimm extermination and other society serving tasks."
"...What would you have me do?" Hawkins stated.
Monet's lips curled to a devilish grin and Vergo seemed pleased by his answer.
"While you are not directly affiliated with Vale's authorities," Vergo continued, "the possibility remains that you could be a resource that Beacon's headmaster can rely on; which is something my faction cannot allow. However, seeing that you are rather close to a certain silver-eyed huntress, perhaps you'd be willing to prove your loyalty to our faction with her removal?"
Hawkins' brows knitted together and his nose scrunched in disgust. Kill Ms. Rose? Yes the task was within his capabilities, or so he assumed, but...
A heat, small but undoubtedly there, clustered from a single piece of burning coal to a raging bonfire of dry timber. Hawkins owed the red reaper many things, but was it really worth losing all he'd strived for until now? He still had his family back in the agricultural district, though he'd puke if he had to admit this, nevertheless, they were always there for him at his worst.
Just like Ms. Rose would be...
His chest tight, the magician failed to comprehend the storming emotions he'd long kept hidden. Then another scene, one he'd done his best to hammer to the dark depths of his memory, was that of another blonde holding Ms. Rose's hand.
Hawkins' hand curling around his teacup with an iron grip, the cup failed to withstand the strenuous pressure and caved into shattered pieces. The sharp glass digging into his palm, the pain deterred some of his conflicted thoughts, but only for a moment as his emotions once again gripped his conscience.
"Well, what is your answer, magician?" Vergo asked lazily as if knowing the blonde's response from the get-go.
"I refuse." Hawkins snarled through grit teeth.
Monet sighed and shrugged. As she gathered the papers on the table, Vergo stood from his seat and revealed a long bamboo stick. However, unbeknownst to the trio, a prying ear had been making note of their entire conversation and quickly pulled out his scroll for a few quick texts.
/-/
"Hm, what's this?" Tai fiddled to balance a sleeping Yang to retrieve the scroll in his pocket. Nestled in the warm confines of his log cabin, his eyes grew wide at the sudden text from his partner.
"Tai, do you know where we put the groceries? I swear I dropped the bags in the kitchen, but they aren't there." Summer sighed as she entered the living room, but grew concerned at her lover's worried expression.
"Tai, is something wrong?"
The blonde's indigo pupils shot upward with dread. "We have Ms. Mallari on speed dial right?"
Summer quirked a brow and crossed her arms. "We do, but we shouldn't take advantage of her kindness. She's already done plenty of babysitting for Yang in this week alone."
"I know, but we have to hurry to the commercial district in Vale." Tai stood with a look that held no room for arguments.
"Slow down, you're not making any sense!" The red reaper pouted.
"Hawkins is in a heap of trouble, honey, and the way Qrow worded his message makes it sound life-threatening."
Two beeps from their respective scrolls, Tai veered his sights back to his while Summer pulled out hers. Apparently, Qrow had made a group chat that also included the members of GPPO and Beacon's headmaster, but it was the text and the video that came with it that made them realize how dire Hawkins' situation really was.
The text read: I'm at the new noodle place in the commercial district. Bring your weapons and be ready for a fight, whoever Hawkins is fighting, he's planning to send our card reader to the grave. Also, be extra careful Summer, the bastard made a threat against your life too.
After the message, a quick video played of Hawkins crashing into a dirty dish cart with a trench-coated man in hot pursuit who then grabbed the magician's pale throat and slammed him against a shelf of painted china cups.
Summer's heart raced in panic as she disappeared in a cluster of messy rose petals and returned with both her weapon and Tai's.
The blonde man sharing a knowing look dialed the number of Ms. Mallari with twitchy fingers and reached for his leather gauntlets on the coffee table.
As for team GPPO, the first to receive the urgent text was a late-night studier of history. Casually sipping his mug, Oobleck scoured the countless papers littered on his desk while taking several notes from the bounties of informative articles. All was well until a frantic peach-haired huntress bounded into the room with her sniper rifle locked and loaded.
"Oobleck, finish that coffee and grab your hunter gear!" The aura Thumbelina emitted far surpassed that of a starving Grimm sending all sorts of shivers down her boyfriend's spine.
"T-Thumbelina, did something happen?" Oobleck stuttered and went cross-eyed as a scroll was shoved between his brown pupils.
"Oh, I understand, to arms it is!" The history enthusiast cried at the top of his lungs.
Moving onto their mustached Mantlesian, Port was in the midst of settling into bed in nothing but his boxer briefs until an alarming ring beckoned from his nightstand. Squinting at the bright letters on his scroll, the veteran hunter wasted no time in getting changed as he checked his weapon's ammunition count.
With action ringing between the members of GPPO, where was their leader at this time of night? Well, to cut to the chase, the front door of Glynda's home was surrounded in a violet hue and was ripped from its hinges then thrown a good fifty feet from its initial position the second she read Qrow's text.
For the last recipient of the sobered drunk's message, Ozpin was surprised to receive it not through his scroll, but by the random appearance of the giddy cackler of team STTQ who seemed awfully enthusiastic about saving Hawkins from the stranger that was assaulting him.
/-/
Backed to a corner, Hawkins made his final stand and unsheathed his sword. A quick scuffle and Hawkins was thrown from the booth and onto the main floor of the noodle house. To his shock, the restaurant seemed empty with neither staff nor customers roaming the floor. Checking the hands of the clock above the exit, the metal sticks were positioned for 11:00 pm.
"We've already taken the proper precautions to ensure that you're wiped off the map with no witnesses. All it took were a few bribes and threats for the owner along with a few aided bodyguards at the front." Vergo blitzed past the booth's curtain, and in the blink of an eye, his bamboo stick met with Hawkins' skull.
The magician was flown clear and into a wall. Picking himself up in haste, he fixed his stance and prepared for battle. Across the blonde, stood a daunting Vergo as he cracked his neck and shoulders.
"Plomf~" Thudded the remains of a battered straw doll.
"...Life minus one." Hawkins grimaced. Vale wouldn't miss a few bums and street thugs, but the fact that Vergo managed to kill off one voodoo doll in a single strike rose all sorts of red flags.
"A swordsman?" The coated assassin peered at the magician's blade. "A pity that I don't have my sword either, otherwise this would've been a more traditional battle."
"You were never a swordsman," Monet called in a tired sigh.
"Oh yeah, that's right." Vergo stroked his chin with a quizzical visage.
A window of opportunity swung open, Hawkins raised his blade and allowed his devil fruit to take care of the rest. "Straw Sword!"
The line of piercing wheat sped through the air and met Vergo in the chest. The coated man's shoes skidded across the wooden planks, but upon closer inspection, all Hawkins managed to do was rip the man's clothing.
"That's a pathetic primary attack," Vergo grunted. "Shave!"
The magician stepped back in panic. He'd only blinked and his opponent had seemingly disappeared. His nerves on high alert, Vergo reappeared beside him and Hawkins barely managed to deflect the blow aimed for his temple.
The bamboo grinding against cold steel, Hawkins couldn't fathom how a piece of Asian wood managed to hold up against a sharpened blade.
"Hmph, you lack several skills to survive in the new world. No wonder you failed so miserably at Sabaody Archipeligo." Vergo pressed on, twirling his bamboo in repeated strikes and jabs.
The magician swiped against the first few, but Vergo's pace proved too quick to consecutively block. A knock on the head, then the shoulder, and a smack to the midriff, Hawkins snarled and made a desperate lunge for Vergo's neck.
"Ktang!"
His steal weaved past his enemy's defenses, but alas nothing came of it. To Hawkins' horror, Vergo's neck was protected by some sort of black patch, was this the power of a devil fruit?
"Decent swordplay, but you lack every other physical category. A shame that you once held the mantle of a supernova, and were considered a member of the worst generation as well. Tell me, Basil Hawkins, how did the magician; a pirate from our very own North Blue, get reduced to such a pitiful figure?"
The assassin's goading chipped at Hawkins' stoic armor. The vivid flashes of his nightmares beginning to resurface, his breaths grew heavy and the muscles they invigorated fell limp.
"Oi, Hawkins, what are you doing out so late at night? Didn't Carla tell you that dinner is ready?" Sam's voice was no more than a meek whisper.
"Ababa!" Jaune's goofy smile radiated an unfamiliar heat but was not unwelcomed for some strange reason.
"Hah!" A cry of ambitious desperation, the former pirate swung madly at Vergo. Blackened bamboo fighting with polished steel, the sparks that flew between the two men sang in the rhythm of clashing gongs.
The floorboards beneath them cracking under their heavy footsteps and missed attacks, shelves were chopped, tables were bashed, and plates were sent into the ceiling during the violent conflict.
"Why do you oppose me with such ferocity? If you'd simply taken Monet's preposition, all of this could've been avoided. Now, you'll have to learn the foolish error of your mistake the hard way." Vergo parried Hawkins' next lunge with a mighty strike, exposing his left side and misplacing his footwork.
Unable to mount a proper defense, Vergo hammered the magician's skull with a blackened fist and sent him head-first into the countertops in front of the kitchen.
"Plomf!~" Another voodoo doll had been evicted.
Coughing out bits of wood, Hawkins' eyes snapped open as a hand curled around his throat. He kicked the midriff of his oppressor, but the assassin merely scoffed and thrust the blonde's head repeatedly against the countertops.
"Plomf!~"
"Plomf!~"
"Plomf!~"
His life count halved, Hawkins scoured his panicked brain for any possible chance of escape. He'd bitten off more than he could chew, all for the sake of saving a friend. To what cruel fate had fortune abandoned him? His conscience fading, Hawkins had to accept that he was never strong enough to make it out on his own...
"Bang!"
The crack of a bullet piercing his thoughts, a hot spark deflected off of Vergo's noggin and the man was forced to turn around.
"Now I'm not the best when it comes to manners, but that's no way to treat someone you're trying to recruit is it?" Smirked a cocky hunter with slicked ebony hair.
"Mr. Branwen?" The magician coughed.
"Hey, sorry for the late assistance, but I needed some proper evidence before we kick this scumbag's ass."
"Another annoyance, what the hell is Monet doing?" Vergo grumbled under his breath.
Allowing Hawkins a few moments of respite, the coated man narrowed his gaze on the cocky smile of his new adversary. "If you've chosen to interfere, then you must be prepared to pay the price."
Qrow shrugged. "I've been told that plenty of times, but I'm still here aren't I?"
"Not for long... shave!"
Qrow collapsed his weapon to its sword form and kept his eyes on high alert. He'd witnessed Vergo's movements from his earlier scuffle, but his movements required all his focus to keep track of.
"Too slow!" Vergo mocked from behind and landed a square fist in Qrow's back.
The hunter hurdled towards a display of bowls and cups, but broke into a controlled roll and sprung off of the display for a counter-attack. With an overhead strike, Qrow's sword clashed against Vergo's forearm that enveloped itself in a dark hue reminiscent of iron.
With his free hand, the assassin clamped his fingers around Qrow's face and threw him across the room.
"Straw Sword!"
"Hm?!" Vergo's head whipped to the right as a thick line of sharp straw passed his cheek.
"You already tried that attack, magician, and it didn't work!" He chided and parried the next attack.
However, the blonde had shifted tactics and adorned a new set centered around foul play. Instead of meeting the enemy's bamboo stick head-on, his straw retracted like the head of a python and struck again once Vergo completed half a swing.
His face exposed, the assassin ducked at the last second to avoid a stab aimed at his eyes. But felt a droplet of blood trickle down his forehead.
"Hmph, pitiful and dirty tactics from a failure," Vergo growled.
"You never expected this to be a fair fight from the beginning did you?" Hawkins coughed back.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" A volley of bullets from the sidelines, each one connected with Vergo's back sending a stinging pain across his upper torso.
"I'm still here too y'know." Qrow sneered.
"Nothing but big frogs in a small pond." Vergo cracked his neck and prepared... to try.
Gone in the blink of an eye, he aimed to eliminate the weaker of his opponents and made a beeline for Qrow. His weapon raised, the hunter blocked the incoming strike but was sent clear through the front door and into a lampost on the streets.
Shaking his head, Qrow was horrified to see a vivid crack from where Vergo had struck. How did a piece of bamboo leave such an imprint?
Urgency blaring in Hawkins' mind, the devil within surged to life and obeyed its owner's desperate demands. The veins atop his forehead bulged and pulsing, the magician felt his blood run hot and his heart sent into overdrive.
"Hoh? What's this now, has the magician come up with a new trick?" Vergo quirked a single brow of interest.
His sword returned to its sheath, Hawkins' body was wrapped by several layers of swirling straw and replaced his fingers for jagged iron nails.
"Demon Face!" The mighty scarecrow roared.
Immediately, it charged towards Vergo like a hungry dog, slamming the assassin against a windowpane and eventually broke through. The two barreling into the open street, Hawkins considered a hasty retreat, but with the knowledge that Monet sat idly on the sidelines, he doubted he'd make it into familiar territory before being killed.
Not to mention Qrow was now in the mix. As he didn't want to be blamed for leaving one of Summer's teammates to die.
The most logical situation now was to hold his ground and try to exploit what resources he had. Though with the recent exchanges, his life total was already down to five, and they'd lasted him no more than a few minutes at best.
"I have to make as much noise as possible," Hawkins hissed. Luring the attention of the masses would deter Vergo's and Monet's attention on him, and maybe rally a few potential combatants to aid in his and Qrow's plight to boot.
"Where are you looking?" The assassin's voice rang in his left ear and was followed by a piercing index finger with the power of a bullet.
"Finger Pistol!"
"Urk!" Hawkins swiped for his opponent's eyes but the effort was in vain as, while his scarecrow form boosted his physical power, it reduced his speed which he was already lacking.
"Plomf!~"
"Plomf!~"
"Plomf!~"
"Plomf!~"
Four more straw dolls weaving out of his body, his forehead drenched itself in nervous sweat as the pain Vergo was dishing out would soon become noticeable. With a loud cry, Hawkins roared, his voice reaching for the sky and the entire city that surrounded him.
"Groooaaar!"
"What are you doing?" His coated enemy sighed.
"Raaargh!"
One by one, the lights of the nearby apartments flicked on as the barks of dogs and hisses of cats echoed in the distance.
"Absolutely pathetic." Vergo facepalmed and delivered a swift kick to the scarecrow's neck forcing him to bite the asphalt. Then followed up with two kicks to the ribcage.
"Plomf!~"
"Plomf!~"
"Plomf!~"
His straw count depleted, all that was left was the magician's original life. Cursing his misfortune, Hawkins prepared himself for Davy Jone's locker, but his ticket never came as a voice came to his rescue, but not a voice he was expecting.
"Vergo-san!" Monet appeared in a blurry blizzard and landed right on top of Hawkins' downed form.
"Monet," her partner sighed, "where have you been?"
"Securing the perimeter for your messy fight!" The greenette pouted. "Do you have any idea how much noise you've made? Not to mention you left that Qrow fellow alive for too long. He's already called for reinforcements, and they're already on their way."
"Shouldn't you have dealt with him then?" Vergo rolled his eyes. "It's the least you could do while I'm doing the dirty work."
"Hmph, you make it sound like I can be in two places at the same time, but that doesn't matter. We need to hurry things up because I saw a familiar tuft of silver hair narrowing on our location."
The assassin raised a brow. "Why should Beacon's headmaster concern me? Neither he nor his lackeys can offer me a challenge."
"You're underestimating the pale witch's intel, Vergo-san, Ozpin has a special power, or did you forget?"
The assassin shook his head and veered his sights to the downed magician. A puddle of blood seeping from his forehead, he shrugged and raised his bamboo stick for the finishing blow.
"I'll be out of here soon enough, Monet, why don't you head back to our meeting place and ensure that Tyrian hasn't botched our delivery?"
"Fine, but if things get too hectic for you, don't go blaming me." With a sarcastic nod, Monet retreated in a hazy display of snowflakes, leaving Hawkins to his doom.
"A valiant effort, magician, at least you managed to sate my boredom for tonight."
"Ktang!"
Caught off guard, Vergo staggered back as Qrow shoved his weapon, collapsed in its tonfa form, against the assassin's forearm. Tearing through cloth and nicking skin, a dribble of blood etched over Vergo's forearm before being enveloped in an obsidian coating.
"Pesky bird." Vergo frowned and slammed his fist against the back of Qrow's skull.
Knocked cold, he was tossed into another lampost and the sickening crunch of bones echoed across the street. If Qrow was still alive, his aura had taken the initial impact, but he was by no means in good shape.
"I always have to clean up after others." The assassin groaned and turned back to Hawkins who'd abandoned his scarecrow form for his human body.
In one last act of defiance, the magician sprang to his feet and stabbed his blade against Vergo's shoulder. But alas, as experience would prove, the effort was for naught. However, despite his inevitable death, the life in Hawkins' eyes refused to burn away as he constantly reminded himself what he was fighting for.
His future, his life, and those of his friends left a fire too large to squash in a single blow.
Another fist to the temple, Hawkins' vision blurred as blood seeped into his mouth. Denying himself a pitiful leave, not a single tear rolled down his bruised visage as it met the concrete of the sidewalk.
"Farewell failure of the worst generation, it was fun while it lasted." Vergo drew a deep breath and raised his bamboo, only to be blindsided by a cluster of construction materials covered in a purple hue.
"That color..." The magician forced his crippled gaze to the end of the road. But before he could create a mental image, he was lifted by the same purple hue and gently brought to safety.
"Urgh, took you guys long enough." Qrow joked through a bloody cough. He too was delivered to safety but was rudely dropped after his snarky remark.
"Augh, come on Glynda, it was just a joke!"
"Now's not the time, Qrow, not even for a pun," Tai smirked and assisted Thumbelina in steadying his partner's injured body.
"Hawkins my good man, are you still with us?" Oobleck and Summer knelt down, medkits in hand, they prepared to heal the stoic man's wounds but he managed to growl out a sentence.
"Thump!~" A similar twitch nicking his heart, Hawkins traced the experience to when he'd rescued Jaune and the others from the burning windmill, but this time it felt like his heart was warning him of an approaching predator.
"Vergo's not done yet, he wants both me and Ms. Rose dead!"
"I got careless..." The very same assassin dusted his coat and shoved the debris off his person. Eyes narrowed behind his cracked sunglasses, Vergo wasted no time in pursuing his new targets.
Port, the first to react, jumped in front of Hawkins' feeble form and clashed his blowhard against blackened bamboo. The impact sending the mustached hero to skid across the pavement, Port fumbled into a dumpster but retaliated with a volley of red-dusted bullets.
Vergo twirled his staff like a pinwheel, blocking all projectiles as his focus shifted to a blonde brawler and green-haired coffee lover. Vergo swatted the blonde away with ease, but the greenette managed to keep pace with his base speed seeing he used to spar with the fastest huntress in Beacon history.
"Tally ho!" Oobleck roared and locked his torch-themed weapon against Vergo's bamboo stick. With the push of a button, the tip of Antiquity's roast opened and spilled a torrent of fire at the coated assassin.
However, it took more than a few embers to finish a man such as Vergo, and through the fire, he thrust out a hand that latched onto Oobleck's face. In one great heave, the greenette was thrown face-first against Tai's chest and the duo barreled into a pile of concrete bags.
An odd pressure over him, Vergo curled a brow at a blonde woman who raised a riding crop at him. His heels heavy against the street, Vergo felt his movements restricted as a silver-eyed and peach-haired huntress closed in on him.
"Moon Walk!" The assassin leaped into the sky with a mighty spring of his legs and plummeted back down with a mighty crack of his blackened bamboo stick.
A crater formed on impact, Summer and Thumbelina were thrown clear leaving a clear path to Glynda, Qrow, and Hawkins. With only one suited for battle, the witch raised her crop and strained her semblance to its limits.
Vergo scowled at the sudden pressure that forced him back. Noticing the tugging effect on his trench coat, he quickly put two and two together and discarded the saggy clothing.
"Shave!" Gone in the blink of an eye, he reappeared in front of Glynda and placed a swift punch on her stomach.
Deprived of air, the witch dropped her crop as Port dashed to soften her landing. Though the impact of his leader's body was almost enough to topple the stout man over.
"I've wasted enough time on these weaklings." The assassin cracked his neck and raised his leg over Hawkins' skull.
"Leaf him alone!" Tai shouted and burst into the scene with a gauntlet-covered punch. Okay, so one pun could slip right?
Vergo blocked the incoming strike with his forearm and traded a few kicks, elbows, and punches with the sudden upstart.
"Hm, a martial artist, eh?"
"You got that right buddy! And a master pun dealer to boot!" Tai declared, though was swiftly dealt with after a foolish headbutt. Staggering back, the blonde's cheek flattened at a squared set of knuckles covered in an iron coating sent him soaring through the door of a nearby building.
"Glynda! Oobleck!" Summer shouted.
Heading the red reaper's call, the three sprung into action. Qrow tossed Glynda her crop and the witch tore apart the street as a result.
Quick to escape whatever plot his opposition had, Vergo jumped to the sky again with moonwalk but was surprised to see pieces of the street floating around him. Using those very same road sections, Summer and Oobleck leaped between them and attacked Vergo from all angles.
The battle shifted to a speed competition, Vergo with shave, Summer with her semblance, and Oobleck who'd consumed the highest grade of caffeinated coffee he had on deck. Oobleck was the first to fall, as a solid knee against the chest propelled him through several clusters of asphalt.
"Ooberry!" Thumbelina cursed as her boyfriend's landing created a small crater.
"I'm fine, Thumbelina, go on and help the people who need it." Qrow coughed and pointed to his friend's stationed sniper rifle.
"But what about you and Hawkins?"
"We'll be fine, we're not wimps." Qrow forced a smirk.
A deep sigh, the peach-themed huntress armed herself and ran to face the chaos. Locked and loaded, she spotted Vergo among the blurs and took aim.
"Bang!" A precise shot, the bullet pounded against the assassin's shoulder but deflected due to some sort of iron coating.
Annoyed by the intervention, Vergo clashed with Summer but rapidly overpowered her and gave her a similar fate like Oobleck.
"Hm?" Vergo quirked a brow as the raised asphalt linked together. In the span of a second, the floating stone squished together with the stoic man in the middle of it.
"Nice one, Glynda!" Thumbelina cheered.
"KROOOSH!" All hopes died as Vergo burst through his stone prison with minimal effort. To think a few pebbles would impede his mission was folly, as both Glynda and her partner would find.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Thumbelina fired with no intention of sparing her enemy's life.
Glynda raised a wall to protect herself and her teammate, but again Vergo hurdled through the stone. His bamboo staff raised, it came crashing down but was met with crossed gauntlets and a sharp axe.
Tai and Port pressed valiantly against their opposition, but the mighty force of Vergo proved to much despite their combined efforts. Cast aside with two skull-breaking strikes, the blonde's flying body bent a lampost well out of shape, as Port's broke through a half-built wall of brick.
"Tug~"
His gaze veering toward a weak grip around his ankle, Vergo scoffed at the pathetic form of Qrow.
"Heh, didn't think I was out of the fight, did you? Big mistake on your part asshole."
"Hah!" This time it was the assassin's turn to be caught off guard.
In a blizzard of rose petals, Summer's dual blades struck true and slashed the cruel man's chest and shoulder. A dribble of blood from each wound, Vergo grunted in disappointment and managed to snag Summer by the ankle.
"W-Whoa!" The red reaper wailed as she was spun like a record.
"DON!" Like a hammer, Summer's body crashed into the street sending an ominous silence over the roads.
"Summer!" Qrow spat, but his mouth clamped shut after a kick to the lips. Somersaulting over to Oobleck's crater, he landed on top of the unconscious history enthusiast and felt his own mind slipping.
"Bang!" Thumbelina's finger pressed against the trigger as Glynda hurled a storm of bricks.
Uncaring for whatever attacks the two could muster, Vergo approached his targets with a stoic face and blackened piece of bamboo. The bricks and bullets pinged off his person, which was now covered in a similar coating to that of his weapon, and each step he took increased the fear in the huntress' hearts greatly.
"While I do plan to kill the silver-eyed woman, having two more casualties among Beacon's numbers is hardly worth mentioning."
"L-Leave them alone!" Summer whimpered in the background. Her threats only sealing her fate as her opponent turned around.
"If you want to be the first among the slaughter, then, by all means, step forward."
Her face twisted in pain and anger, Summer stood while clutching her gut. "We won't die here, none of us will."
"Says the proud before they fall."
Her body covered by a violet hue, Summer bounded over Vergo and put beside Glynda. Thumbelina stood in front of the pair, her weapon shifting from a sniper rifle to a two-handed axe.
"Worthless." Vergo scoffed. His heel digging into the back of Thumbelina's head throwing her clear of the conflict.
"G-Glynda, run..." Summer whispered in haste.
The witch bit her lower lip and furiously shook her head. To abandon a friend would go against her moral code, and that would never be acceptable in her eyes. Her crop collapsed into its baton form, Glynda prepared to make her final stand to save her friends.
However, both Glynda, Summer, as well as Vergo, had all forgotten about a certain magician who'd been given a short reprieve. Hawkins didn't want to help anymore, he wanted to stay hidden and savor his lasts breaths on Remnant, but after witnessing the crushing of those he could consider his allies... he wished to be brave... just this once...
A sneak attack wouldn't work, as he'd made the attempt several times with little to show for it. Instead, the only outcome he could think of was one of doom, but what else could he do?
Vergo fixed his posture and raised his bamboo staff in a horizontal line with both hands.
Though her aura levels were practically drained, Glynda stood defiantly, her trademark scowl on full blast with Summer clutching the hilt of her swords with an iron grip.
Vergo took a mighty leap and charged forth.
Prepared for their inevitable doom, a sudden shadow denied the witch's and red reaper's view of the approaching enemy as a familiar ruffled collar took its place. His sword armed by both hands, the magician held it diagonally with the hilt toward the sky and the blade pointed at the ground.
"H-Hawkins?!" The huntresses screamed as his tall body shielded them.
"You're finished, Basil Hawkins!" Vergo shouted.
"Demon Bamboo!"
A wicked snap, Hawkins' longsword, which had served faithfully throughout his career as a pirate finally caved and shattered into many pieces upon impact. Not only that, the devasting blow from Vergo was so great the ripple effect tore through the back of Hawkins' cloak and knocked the wind out of those he protected.
Crumbled bones, torn muscles, and punctured organs, Hawkins felt his final moments were upon him. As his bruised form fell backward, a single thought lingered in his withering conscience.
"Faust... everyone... I'm sorry."
/-/
"All that and you ended up dying anyway. Why even bother to oppose me in the first place then?" Vergo grunted and glanced at his surroundings.
Neither the members of STTQ or GPPO appeared to be conscious, meaning this would be easy pickings for the tired assassin. His eyes returning to the still form of Hawkins, he shrugged and raised his bamboo staff. It always paid to be thorough in the work of murder, so splitting the magician's head wide open would be the best way to ensure his death.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Vergo hesitated and turned to an approaching figure. Adorned in a green suit and round spectacles, his fair skin reflected the subtle moonlight that emphasized the long shadow behind him.
"Ozpin..."
The headmaster pushed up his glasses and frowned. "When Qrow issued the message to meet in the commercial district, I made sure to adjourn my meeting as soon as possible. However, now that I see it, I should've abandoned the conversations altogether."
"You don't want to get involved in all this. I've already dealt with the top fighters under your command, so I'm craving a proper challenge."
Ozpin hummed at the threat. "The warning is appreciated, but not needed."
His frown deepened and his eyes narrowed, the silver-haired man tapped his cane against what was left of the street and sent a powerful rumble across the pavement.
"O-Ozpin?"
"Ah, Oobleck, good to see you're still with us. Though I'd advise you go back to sleep, after the havoc you and the others have been through, you've earned it." The headmaster sighed.
"D-Duly noted..." Oobleck coughed and felt his muscles go limp.
"I don't see why you're so cocky," Vergo butted in, "the members of your so-called golden generation have all been dismantled and trashed like the garbage they are. If you compare this lot to the pale witch's forces, then the battle will be over before it starts. Even now our influence and numbers grow, and not just in one kingdom mind you."
"I'm well aware, much more than you think." Ozpin's fingers tapped the head of his cane as he glanced at Hawkins' battered body.
A buzz from his pant pocket, Vergo grunted and made a quick swing for the magician's head, only for the bamboo stick he wielded to be shot out of his hand.
"Haha, not so fast you wicked villain!" A familiar cackle bellowed from a nearby rooftop.
"You?" The assassin rolled his eyes.
"Yes, it's me!" Tyrian laughed like a maniac as he jumped down and closed the distance between them.
Confused, Vergo shifted his sights to the headmaster who began to collect the injured to safety. Ambulance horns and police sirens blaring in the distance,
"Do you want to die to you dumb Faunus?" Vergo scowled as he parried his attacker's kicks and punches with minimal effort.
"Hehe, I have to put on this show with that headmaster around don't I?" Tyrian whispered between punches. "So why don't you be a good boy and retreat before the headmaster tears your head off? He does possess the power our mistress has craved for so long after all, and you and I both know that it's nothing to joke about."
Their combat broken by the sudden intervention of Ozpin, the headmaster's cane landed a clean blow to Vergo's chest, and the impact managed to force out a spitwad of blood.
"That'll teach ya, naughty assassin!" Tyrian laughed with his hands on his belly.
From the bulging veins atop his forehead, Vergo looked ready to go on a murderous rampage, but once again his hopes were dashed by a chill and several snowflakes. A giant wall of snow erecting between him and his prey, Vergo's head spun around to see a faraway Monet and displeased Hazel standing in front of a speedy aircraft commandeered by Watts.
"It's in your best interest to retreat, Vergo, otherwise I might have to punish you for going against my orders." The voice that emanated from his scroll did not belong to a human of Remnant.
Plans skewed, Vergo picked up his trench coat and patted off the dust.
"You're lucky, magician, but both you and your silver-eyed friend aren't long for this world." He growled and vanished into the night with his shave technique.