"Boss. We've got a report from Tyrion. Looks like Hawkins is on his way home." Daz read the letter aloud, but Crocodile paid it little mind and waved his hook from the leather seat he occupied. Apparently, Neo's ballet lessons were more important than recruiting a fellow man from their previous world.

"Excellent work, Neo." Ms. Turquois praised from her studio in Mistral as her holographic image was relayed in the living room for her apprentice to copy.

Daz shrugged. Whether it was done on a whim or a passion, Neo had a talent for dancing, and ballet seemed to be her favorite of the lot as she picked it up almost immediately after seeing her first show with her adoptive father. Daz glanced at Roman who was seated comfortably on the couch with a newspaper in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other. It had taken no more than a week for Daz and Crocodile to figure out that Roman was the sharper of the two children. Quick of wit with a silver tongue, the red-haired punk had a knack for the political sphere and was bound to grow into a savvy business man.

Daz contemplated whether or not he should smile or frown at the scene. On one hand, his boss had acquired a new pair of assets that were bound to be loyal in the long run. However, the reasons for why Crocodile had taken these youngsters under his wing still stumped Daz despite being given an explanation on the matter.

"No point in losing sleep over this." Daz shook his head. As it stood, there were enough troubles for the RDI than necessary, and Daz sometimes felt that he was the only person aware of these issues.

"Would you like a snack, Mr. Bones?" Carla asked with a steaming cup of tea extended toward the former assasin. "You haven't eaten yet either. Is something wrong?"

"This is a sharp old woman. So is her husband." Daz thought. He'd gotten used to his surroundings over the past few days, as the old folks who maintained the log cabin were a capable pair; and Daz had to remind himself not to allow any unnecessary details slip while around them. He had to admit, though, the apple cakes the cow faunus made were much better than any bakery he'd visited.

"Now, don't forget to raise your arms before you leap, Neo. It's important to incorporate the upper body for balance when performing a jump." Ms. Turquois said with a proud smile.

Neo nodded and copied her instructor's movements flawlessly and finished her lesson with a bow to both her adoptive father and Daz. Crocodile smirked, stood from his chair, and left the room. Daz didn't need to be told, and followed his boss to the backyard where Ruby and Trifa were playing with some sticks while Yang was learning some knots from Sam beneath an old oak tree.

"We need to expand." Crocodile said bluntly. "We're losing influence in Mantle, and the amount of letters I'm getting from Haven's headmaster is starting to give me a headache. Apparently, the cowardly lion doesn't like that I'm muscling in on Jacques' turf. Not like I have much choice though, as I'm sure Carmel is lending that snobby noble some solid advice in how to ease my ambitions."

Daz scratched his head. Perhaps he and his boss had underestimated Jacques' desire for control, as the Schnee was advancing at an unprecedented pace thanks to his recent contract with Vale's council.

"That weasel doesn't know when to quit." Daz grumbled. He had no love for the upper-class, despite being a member of that social circle due to his boss' economic position, and the amount of rumors that were spinning around since the banquet were swelling to sky-levels of the imagination.

"No. And that's why we need to find a new means of mining dust." Crocodile said firmly and withdrew a cigar. "What did Tyrion say about that chain-wielding idiot? Is he still doing Carmel's dirty work?"

Daz opened the letter again and cupped his chin. "Apparently, there's no need to worry about Mad Treasure. Hawkins caved in his skull and Tyrion took the liberty to put him out of his misery. Granted, we can't always trust what that scorpion faunus says. He does work for that pale witch, and she's just as if not more crazy than her underling."

"Always skeptical, eh? I like that." Crocodile grunted with a mocking smile. "What do you think of the company Hawkins keeps?"

This question was expected, yet Daz hadn't come up with a proper answer and struggled on the spot. Instead, he veered his attention to a sulky, pale woman with green hair who sat at the end of the porch with her arms crossed and a thumbnail between her clenched teeth. Daz understood why Monet was here, but he did not pity her. The snow-woman had been scheming against Crocodile for the pale witch for Oum knows how long, and Vergo was another issue that she often brought no matter where she went.

"Don't worry about her. If Monet decides to try anything, she'll be losing more than what she could gain." Crocodile drew a huff from his cigar. The white smoke swirling in the calm breeze before dissipating into nothingness. "Hazel, if you can believe it, decided to tattle on that little schemer over there and now I'm sure she's not on our side. Granted, we can still make use of her."

Daz did not like where this was going. "I don't want to keep any snakes near us. Especially around your kids."

Crocodile chuckled. "You think my brats would actually fall prey to one of Monet's half-baked schemes? Sure, the snow-bird knows how to flaunt her assets and Watts gifted her with a wide network of contacts, but there's a lot more to the pale witch's council than most would assume. Other than strength, they've all got a certain cunning that puts me on edge. Did you know there's already a prototype for Project Penny's Peacekeepers?"

Daz nodded. "We saw that at the banquet a few weeks ago, didn't we? The Tyrant, Bartholomew Kuma. George seemed all too content with the progress of his new weapon."

Crocodile shook his head. The burnt bits at the tip of his cigar flaking off in grey specks. "No. It's not Kuma. Whatever that machine hybrid is, it's not the man I used to share the title of Warlord with. That said, I did notice it had the marking of PX-1 on its shoulder. Does that mean anything to you?"

"No idea." Daz replied. "Where are you going with this?"

"It's the latest topic." Crocodile grunted. "That's got all the bloody upper-class in a bind considering Atlas' headmaster only wants a few people aware of what he's actually building. And before you ask as to how I know this, I received an invitation from Ozpin not too long ago. Maybe he thinks I'm involved somehow considering my muscling in on Mantle's turf."

"Won't that stir his relationship with the SDC?" Daz pointed out. "That, and I don't see why Vale's headmaster would seek any business with a business as small as ours."

"Ozpin isn't interested in my operations." Crocodile chuckled. "But he is interested in my history given how much I've shaken the economic sphere. That, and Carmel's let slip that I'm not from this world. Like a certain magician we both know."

Daz grunted. Ozpin was a man of many secrets who knew far too much about devil fruits and the weaknesses of those who ate it. The only problem was, neither Daz nor Crocodile were aware of the mole who was feeding Vale's headmaster with all this information. Carmel, while creatively deceptive and vicious, was no fool who understood that the less secrets she shared, the more of an advantage she had over her potential enemies. Tyrion was also out of the picture, as while the scorpion faunus loved to mock and cackle, he was shockingly disciplined when ordered to keep his mouth shut. At least, whenever the pale witch gave him a command of secrecy.

"Oi, if you keep frowning like that, I won't be able to use your ugly mug for our promotion pamphlet." Crocodile smirked as Daz blew a hot breath.

"I don't like this." Daz said. "We shouldn't be pushing our limits like this when we haven't secured a solid line for trade. As it stands, we've only monopolized a handful of businesses that the SDC abandoned or drove into bankruptcy."

"Which is exactly why we need Hawkins." Crocodile replied. "Sam's a friendly old faunus who's given me all the good points about the solemn magician, and if I can get his card shuffling under my wing, then I'll be able to intercept a bad investment before I sign any contracts."

Daz scratched his head and glanced at Ruby who was now crying after scraping her knee with Trifa and Yang fussing over her while Sam smiled and pulled out a band-aid. "That's the part you haven't filled me in on. How are we supposed to hire Hawkins into our ranks? Monet's already said that gloomy magician wants nothing to do with fame or fortunes, and considering his past as a member of the worst generation, I don't think he'll want to be under your thumb."

Crocodile inhaled and exhaled the last of his cigar and ground out the bud with the heel of his shoe. "But he does have a soft side when it comes to women."

Daz's eyes widened. "Hawkins is interested in that sort of thing?"

Crocodile shrugged. "No. He's not. But he'll do whatever I say as long as I get Lord Garf's daughter on my side. Either that, or we try to persuade him with his little shark friend from Vacuo."

"Who?" Daz rubbed his chin.

"Tyrion told me about Hawkins' desire to settle down and maintain his peace and quiet. So, naturally, he'd want a wife to look after his kid so he can slack off and do whatever it is that he likes." Crocodile said plainly. "That, or Hawkins actually wants someone to share his grief and push him forward. I don't care either way."

Daz thought for a moment. "In that case, we should push for the shark faunus. I'm aware of how controlling Lord Garf's wife is, and I don't think it's a good idea to have a snobby woman like her meddling in our affairs."

"You're too slow, Daz." Crocodile retrieved a paper from his coat pocket and handed it to his right hand. "After we left Mantle, the amount of faunus folk who applied for a job in the RDI exploded. As it stands, my company is operated by forty percent of faunus workers. Which means I've also garnered the attention of Menagerie."

"Menagerie?" Daz hummed thoughtfully. He'd heard several tales about the safe haven that existed in the southeast of Remnant, but the slogan that was often whispered about that tropical island was that it was 'filled with people who wanted to be left alone.'

"Ghira Belladonna to be exact." Crocodile continued. "Turns out, his citizens are tired of being treated like an exiled third class and want a piece of the world outside their sandy island's borders. Which I'm happy to provide, at least, for a price that is."

"How much lien are we talking?" Daz crossed his arms.

"It's not an issue of lien." Crocodile pulled out another cigar, but decided against it and returned it to its holder in his coat pocket. "It's a matter of land. They say two thirds of Menagerie is uninhabitable, but that's only what people without an imagination see. I want to set up a new base on that desolate piece of earth, with a couple factories that blow enough smoke to change the forecast."

"This is a pretty ambitious plot." Daz worried as to what would come next after this operation. "Are you going to deal with Ghira Belladonna yourself? Or are am I going to have to pack my bags? I am used to a hot climate."

"There's no need to trouble yourself. Hawkins is going to be my delegate." Crocodile's statement silenced Daz. "And if he brings his little shark friend too, then it's nothing but smooth sailing from this point forward."

Daz had to admit that his boss was a cunning individual, but this plan bordered the lines of lunacy and reason. For one, Hawkins had no affiliation to the RDI; two, he wasn't a proactive man unless provoked with serious consequences; and three, he and this shark faunus Tyrion described were not an item. How on earth did Crocodile assume that all the necessary pieces would fall into place?

/-/

"Glynda!" Thumbelina hammered the door of her best friend's house with her fist. "Big news! Hawkins and Jaune are coming back to Vale! This is the chance of a lifetime that you have to take!"

Thumbelina could barely contain her excitement. She'd been worried sick for Hawkins' well being since he'd left without his team, which also confirmed her theory that the members of STQH were on a shaky relationship at best. However, none of that mattered anymore. After a perilous journey, the warmth of family and friends was an absolute necessity for a man's mental and physical recovery, to which Thumbelina was sure Glynda was willing to provide. At least, for a certain gloomy magician that is.

The door creaked open slowly. Thumbelina would have done the usual and burst into the room with a hug meant for her high-class friend, but all the gears in the peach-lover's mind stalled as she was met with a tall, pale woman with glossy black hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a simple white blouse and black leggings, but her gifted figure was unmistakable.

"Oh! Hi, Shyarly! I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if Glynda was around?" Thumbelina held firm and maintained her cheery attitude. She didn't get the chance to speak with Shyarly often, as Thumbelina was occupied with several books on how to become a teacher at Beacon in the recent months, and chided herself for not being more aware of her best friend's social circle.

"Hello," Shyarly replied with a voice that was soothing and calm. "Glynda is home, but I'm afraid she's rather busy at the moment. Would you like to leave your message with me so I can relay it to her later?"

"There's no need to trouble yourself!" Thumbelina prayed to Oum that Shyarly hadn't heard her earlier declaration about Hawkins. "I'm always barging in here unannounced, so I might as well make my usual grand entrance!"

Thumbelina giggled and slipped past Shyarly with a twirl and a hop, doing her best not to waver when Shyarly's eyes narrowed slightly on her small form.

"Glynda!" Thumbelina yelled and found her meticulous comrade furrowing her brows over a stack of papers littered on the kitchen table. Thumbelina didn't give Glynda a chance to turn around and wrapped her arms around the mystical witch's neck which earned a muffled scream of shock followed by a smack to the the top of her head.

"Thumbelina!" Glynda shot from her seat and separated herself from Thumbelina's clutches. "How many times have I told you not to come into my home without my permission?!"

"Yeah, I missed you too!" Thumbelina laughed. Then her tone lessened to a meek whisper. "How is it going with your little friend?"

Glynda hummed with a small frown. "Rest assured, Thumbelina. She's not a mean person, and she and I have a similar taste when it comes to music and films. She's actually a breath of fresh air when compared to your boisterous persona."

"Aw... don't be like that, Glynda!" Thumbelina pouted playfully. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't know when to meet Hawkins when he gets back to Vale."

Glynda blinked and the smile that graced her face made Thumbelina's own lips reach from ear to ear. "H-He's back?"

Thumbelina's heart soared at the innocent sight. Unlike what most people would assume, Thumbelina may have been an open book to everyone she met, but on the day that Oobleck confessed her feelings for her, she'd grown so quiet that not even her own mother would have recognized her.

"I-I have to get ready!" Glynda bit her lower lip and her pale green eyes darted around the kitchen as if the counters and fridge had the answers she needed.

"Stay calm, now." Thumbelina felt oddly giddy at being the more mature one of this interaction. "There's no point in getting all flustered. Especially at a critical moment like this. You've got a few days until Hawkins gets here, so we'll need to plan ahead and anticipate his mood. For one, Hawkins is probably a bit unstable with all the stress he's been carrying, so he'll need a shoulder to lean on. Specifically, yours."

"You're right." Glynda took a deep breath and exhaled. "Hawkins was never much of a talker, at least in a public setting, so I'll need to get him somewhere alone so he has someone of an appropriate mindset to release all his pent up stress."

Thumbelina desperately wanted to make a dirty joke, but her conscience fought against it to prioritize supporting the maiden in front of her. While the two best friends collaborated with all sorts of plots and schemes to lure Hawkins into a romantic setting, neither of them noticed a pouty Shyarly who hid behind the doorway.

"I... need to thank Hawkins as well." Shyarly muttered and felt the teensiest blush emerge on her pale cheeks. She wasn't rude enough to eavesdrop on Thumbelina and Glynda's conversation, but the former didn't have an inside voice, so Shyarly was now aware that the man who saved her was returning to his home soil. "But... what could I possibly do to return the favor?"

Vacuo Arc. End.