Trevor straightened himself and looked at the girl barreling at him with the scythe. To any other man, it would have looked like a torrent of rose petals streaking across the sky. It would have looked like a warrior, ready to face the horrors of the world down.

But Trevor saw a girl wielding a weapon too large for her. A pawn with silver eyes, who danced across the strings of a man with too many secrets and too few friends. A tired dance, one that I've seen to the end before.

And so Trevor decided to end this charade. So, as if plucking fruit off a tree, Trevor simply raised his hand and caught the blade of the scythe.

The girl had clearly expected him to continue dodging like he had done previously, as the scythe came to a complete halt.

It was almost comical, watching the momentum carry the now unbalanced girl over his head, as she let out a series of squeaks as she tumbled through the air.

In a fluid motion, he then stabbed the scythe into the floor and caught the girl by the leg. It was an exercise of caution, making sure he didn't disrupt her momentum too suddenly and break her. Like holding clouds in his hands.

He redirected the momentum as she yelped, swinging her around and bringing her in front of him. She dangled from his arm, like a fish after a catch, blinking eyes and sputtering, betraying her confusion.

"Hey!" she cried out as she tried squirming around Trevor's grip. "Put me down, dang it! I mean it!". She swung her fists around, which Trevor barely was aware of as they bounced off of him.

His thoughts raced through his head and found purchase in a single pit of bitterness that pooled within him. He had hoped to wake in a better, more gentle world. One where his companion would have kept his promise of peace and prosperity, against the odds.

But instead, his greeting to a new world was a child thrust into combat against a rabble of criminals willing to kill her. More wars, and more soldiers. How long has this been going, Ozma? How many have died for your crusade?

Trevor's unnaturally sharp senses then picked up a slight buzz from the horizon, one that then rose into a roar. He spied the blackened shape that swooped from the skies towards a nearby rooftop.

A vehicle of sorts. The bandits were running, as did any prey when confronted by the hunter.

He raised her eyes to meet hers, silver clashing against gold. And so, Trevor Belmont commanded with one word.

"Enough."

The girl suddenly fell silent, as it seemed like the reality of the situation had finally settled in. Her face shifted, from annoyance and defiance, to apprehension and fear. Her struggling stilled, as she seemed to flinch as their eyes locked.

And even through his annoyance, Trevor found himself studying her face. The bitterness curdled with a hint of sorrow.

Just a child.

He set her down gently, as she immediately retreated towards her scythe after he loosened his grip on her. She eyed him warily, as she recovered her scythe shifted into a stance once again.

Trevor sighed, "I'm not your enemy child." He ignored how she sputtered when he stressed the last word. "And it seems that your prey is getting away."

In the rooftop above, the sudden cacophony of something battering steel rang in the air. Flashes of purple, red, and orange lit up the edges of the roof.

And even as the child was fixing her gaze back at him, Trevor was already bounding up the wall. He barely made a noise, as he seemed more shadow than man as he scaled the building, leaving the bewildered and confused child standing in an empty street.

With a puff of mist, Crissaegrim appeared on his side, the blade covered in a thin sheen of frost. This small debacle had been enough to tell him of the state of the world he had woken in. He would wrap this up, and would be having a word with Ozma.

Many, many words.

Glynda Goodwitch, as per usual, was having a hell of a day. It was the busiest time in her already busy enough time, with the new school year inching its way closer with every day. Weeks of paperwork, negotiation, and bookkeeping alongside trying to herd rowdy students.

It seemed that both Vale and Ozpin were eager to throw any sorts of problems they had on her plate. Which was why when a Dust shop had gotten robbed during one of her regular walks through Vale, it hadn't come as a surprise. And she had even seen one of Ozpin's prospects in the mix, Qrow's niece.

A fine mess indeed. One of these days, I'll finally get to cash out the vacation days. There had been a reason why Ozpin had uncharacteristically told her to go on a walk, to take the night easy.

The night sky was lit up with her Semblance, Dust, and gunfire. Glynda was a storm of debris, weaving through the myriad of thugs on the rooftop. Roman Torchwick seemed content in simply letting waves upon waves of muscle crash against her as he loaded the stolen contraband on the Bullhead.

And through all of this, a shadowy figure from within the Bullhead kept raining blasts of fire down at her. Glynda danced through the chaos, trying to get closer to the Bullhead as she weaved deftly between the fire.

It wouldn't do much good for her to get caught up in fighting the hired muscle, if she couldn't cut the problem off at its source.

She shifted on the offense, feeling her Semblance strain as a flurry of rubble sprang off the ground. It took most of her focus to dodge the thugs as she sent barrage after barrage of projectiles at the Bullhead.

"Damn it!" Torchwick howled, barely managing to keep himself steady on the Bullhead. "First one to get the huntress gets half of today's share!" With that, he shoved the thugs towards her as he lunged into the cockpit.

That was enough to whip the rest up into a fervor, as they charged her as one mass.

Her weapon, the Disciplinarian, cracked across the air as she battered another half-dozen crooks. The fight was becoming much more close quarters than she wanted, with her Semblance solely focused on keeping the airship busy.

But the melee afforder her time to regroup. If she could keep herself close to the thugs, the rest wouldn't fire on he-

She then flinched as an immense wave of heat washed over here. When she opened her eyes, she was met by the sounds of screaming and crackling flesh. A thug in front of her was completely covered in roaring flames, screaming as he tried to put out the flames.

Oh, no.

The rest of the thugs were as shocked as they were, with panicked yelps and curses as they all looked at the airship. Whoever the shadowy figure was, they were simply content with raining hell on the rooftop.

Glynda watched in horror as a wave of fire swept the roof. Those that didn't manage to evade it in time combusted, turning the rooftop into a horrifying inferno. The wave of crooks began to turn, as they all began to scramble away from the pillars of fire erupting from the ground.

"Behind me!" she shouted over the din as she focused her Semblance, trying to match the ferocity of the bombardment with her own defense. The air was filled with a thick cloud of ash and dust as they both clashed.

It was difficult, trying to fend off the haphazard attacks as she tried to get in between the remainder of the criminals and the Bullhead. She would have normally batted the attacks effortlessly, but trying to defend herself while defending several other panicked crooks?

They all had stopped attacking her, as they all ran around in a sheer panic. It was already too late for some of them, as some of the burning men had finally fallen still.

Nobody deserves to die like this, not even them.

Through the smoke and ash, she could barely make the Bullhead beginning its liftoff. For a second, the blasts of fire had finally stopped.

Glynda looked around, focusing on the survivors, seeing how many of them had survived. The air was thick with groans and pained howls, as the rooftop had quickly turned into a massacre.

And as she looked around, she was almost blinded as an incandescent corona suddenly lit up the hazy night.

To her horror, a great spear of flames hung above the rooftop. She could almost even see the figure's sadistic smirk, as it flicked its fingers lazily. The flare began to descend, as the Bullhead finally got clear of the roof.

As quick as she could, she dragged those that survived to her with her Semblance. The rest of the remaining rubble coalesced into a brittle shield, barely managing to cover herself and the survivors. She then braced, shielding the rest with her own body.

The whole roof shook as the flare then crashed against the rubble, as if an earthquake had hit the building she was on. Glynda felt her whole body jolt, her Aura reserves screaming at her in protest as she strained herself.

The inferno raged, almost as if trying to smother the shield. The very force of it knocked her back a couple of paces, almost bowling her over.

Come on, damn you! Hang on! She distantly heard herself snarl, as she gritted her teeth and pushed back.

Her Aura was almost depleted from the previous fighting, and was beginning to fade fast. The heat was almost unbearable, as it was beginning to crack through the shield.

You can do this, you're a huntress! If you fall here, the rest of these men die!

And then, she suddenly felt the temperature suddenly drop.

The air around the rooftop became swathed in a sudden cold, and she even saw her harried breaths fog up. Even with the roar of the fire became a distant echo, as if something had stolen all noise from the night.

"If I may." a voice said behind her. Almost a whisper from a raspy, yet elegant voice.

And then she heard the drawing of a sword, and then her whole world went white.

When her vision returned, it took her senses a couple of seconds to adjust. The first thing she became aware of was the quiet. The great cacophony of the battle had died down. Even now, she could barely make out a couple of faint whimpers and chattering teeth.

Glynda blinked, then realized that her lenses were covered by a thin layer of cold. In fact, the entirety of the rooftop was. There was no fire anymore, rather, all of it had been replaced by a sharp gust of ice.

Even the thugs were now shivering, burns and jackets covered in that thin sheen of frost. She then gasped, as she saw the sky.

The dust and ash had parted, the smog of the battle split directly in half. The shattered moon above clung in between, bathing the roof in a silver glow. And, silhouetted in its light, stood a man with his blade drawn.

Ghostly pale, like the moon behind him.

She realized that he was staring at the Bullhead, which had managed to make it across the other side of the street. It now clung precariously to the air, as a heavy mound of ice clung from one of the turbines, which was now split in half. It bobbed and spittled its way, edging its way across town.

He then turned around and sheathed the blade, closing the distance between them. Glynda hadn't even noticed she had been knocked down, as he extended his hand to help her up. An offer she accepted cautiously, as he helped her up.

"Who?" she managed to croak out, suddenly becoming very aware of how tired she was. The man simply observed her, and chose to not answer her question. He instead began walking towards the edge of the rooftop.

"Tend to the survivors," he rasped, "I'll give chase." And as he reached the edge, he stopped, a foot on the ledge. He turned back, locking eyes with her.

Golden eyes, ones of a predator

"And when you see him, tell him that we'll talk after my business has ended. Not sooner, not later" She tensed up, the dark tone of the words hinting at a threat.

With that, he fixed his gaze towards the Bullhead, and leapt off the roof.

She stumbled after him, lips trying to form all of the questions bouncing around in her head.

But as she peered over the roof, the man was gone. The only person was Qrow's niece, who seemed as confused as she was, looking around for the man.

Glynda turned around, planning to give chase. But she then saw the corpses, already beginning to thaw under the melting frost.

And the few survivors clung to each other, wounded and ragged. Her training took over, as she straightened herself, ignoring the protests her body cried out as she walked over to them.

She began surveying the wounds, barking around orders as she reached for her Scroll. As she began calling the emergency services and tending to whoever could be saved, her mind still raced with what had just happened.

Damn you Ozpin, you knew about this, didn't you?

As she came out of the elevator, she was greeted by the usual smell of coffee wafting throughout the entire office. She walked towards him, as she herself flipped through several reports that flickered on her Scroll. "Did you call for me?" she said, to get his attention.

But as she approached the desk, she realized how Ozpin looked. He seemed preoccupied, peering over his glasses at the screen as he pensively took another sip from his mug.

His face, and even his posture, were lacking the usual aloofness she had become so accustomed to. The half lidded gaze was replaced by an intense frown, as he studied the screen before him.

She peered over his shoulder, curious of whatever was causing such turmoil for him.

It was a painting, an older portrait it seemed. It depicted what seemed like a black tower, austere and lacking any sort of defining features within its stonework. The date of the painting was missing, and there was no title for it either.

And on another window on the screen was a blurry black and white photo. It was a cutout of security footage, intensely zoomed into a face from within a crowd.

From this angle, only the long white hair and black coat could be identified, alongside the metal gauntlet on the arms.

Ozpin seemed lost in thought, barely registering her as he leaned back into his seat. For all the time they had spent working together, it was times like these where Glynda was reminded how little she knew about him.

His fatherly and jovial persona sometimes gave way to someone that was much wise and older, and much, much more tired. He sighed, as he set the mug down and fixed his gaze at her.

"Glynda." his voice stern, with no hint of the usual humor. "In a few days, an old… friend will visit Vale. Make it your highest priority to report me for any suspicious activity within Vale and the neighboring provinces."

This was unexpected. Ozpin, unlike General Ironwood, was usually not so cavalier to keep surveillance on the city. Let alone places out of the reach of their official jurisdiction,

He noticed her surprise, and let out a sigh. "I know, this is highly irregular, but I cannot stress enough the importance of this task."

He rose from the chair, turning his back from her, and stared out of the window. She joined him at his side, also peering out from the tower.

The stars were missing tonight, leaving the moon lonesome in a sea of pitch black. Out in Vale, shops and homes were beginning to close for the night.

The usual hubbub of the crowds gave way to empty streets, with only a few figures hurrying underneath the lampposts. One by one, the lights from within the windows began to flicker out as if the city bared itself to the dark.

"This man, he…" and for once, Ozpin found himself at a loss for words. Glynda couldn't help but feel a slight chill. What had the usually unflappable headmaster like this?

"He's a warrior, one of the finest. His cooperation with us might be the respite we need in our war." This caught her attention. Ozpin not only spoke of him as an equal but there was something else in his voice. Was it respect? Apprehension?

Or was it fear?

Ozpin broke his staring contest with the lights of Vale, pouring himself another cup of coffee. He took a long drag, lost in thought once again.

"We don't have enough heroes, and have lost too many of those that we had." The weight of the statement seemed to smother the entire room. A statement that Glynda was painfully too aware of.

Faces of students full of joy and hope, reduced to lines in casualty reports.

And then Ozpin let out a chuckle, a bitter and mirthless one. "Perhaps, this is one war that cannot be won with heroes."

The last lights within the shops and homes flickered out, as darkness overtook swathes of Vale.

"Perhaps, only a monster can help us win this war."

God, I sure do love letting my inner angsty 14-year-old self out to write. I'm still trying to get better at not bombarding readers with internal monologue/thoughts, though that's a work in progress. Action scenes are also a pain to write, let alone making them actually interesting to read. I'm also super out of date with RWBY and Castlevania canon, so there might be details that aren't up to snuff. Any feedback is appreciated, as always.