Ulysses is a patient man. After all, it takes patience to sit in the ruins of Hopeville, waiting for Courier Six to finally get off his ass and enter the Divide. Courier Six was a perplexing man; he was easily impressed, and sometimes acted like an overgrown baby, while other times he ruled over Vegas with the same tenacity as the rulers of old.

'Jacobstown is cool, you should go there sometimes,' he said once, 'There are trees everywhere, and they're green too!' Ulysses always sat there and silently listened, knowing that even if he tried, Courier Six would never let him say a word, 'Zion is also very green, I like Zion, it's very beautiful, and you should go there sometimes.' Ulysses already knew that.

Courier Six always talked to Ulysses about mundane stuff with no relevance to… anything, whatsoever. 'Why are the trees in this book so green?' he asked once, showing Ulysses a children's picture book and comparing it to a colouring book that he definitely took from a child, 'Look, the trees in the Mojave are like… puke green,' he waved vaguely at the children's book, 'And covered in brown dust and shit, it's crazy.'

'Jacobstown's trees looks like they're from Vault 22, and the ones in Vault 22 looked like a Fiend vomited the colour out!' Courier Six threw the children's book off the canyon side, Ulysses watched as the objects fell into the abyss, never to be seen again… maybe the Marked Men will have some use for them, 'Y'know, imagine how cool it'd be if the trees are the same colour as the plasma that I shoot out, imagine how awesome that'd be!'

Ulysses hummed, sure, let Courier Six's imagination run wild for a bit. Heh, trees the same colour as plasma? Impossible. Working with Courier Six was like working with a child… a very lethal child whose personality can change on a whim. He wasn't concerned though, Courier Six is capable, and he can trust him to not die… much.


The Mojave was a big-ass place, there are sandy deserts, there are dusty deserts, and there are weird radioactive pools of guck and muck within those deserts. It's a great place! The Courier remembered his first time arriving in this veritable paradise of a world, green trees, red trees, blue water? It's like the landscape was made out of every colour imaginable!

The Mojave's vegetation was piss-poor to say the least, the occasional dead bush lying around here and there and some crumbling scraps of 'grass' poked out of the rocks. Jacobstown had trees, but they're the same colour as the ones in Vault 22, and there were virtually no grass in that ski lodge!

…What the hell is a 'ski'?

Compared to the Mojave, Remnant feels like a breath of fresh air, and quite literally too. Hell, even the sand in Vacuo looks more vibrant than the Mojave! Compared to the Mojave's muted browns and dark yellows, the sand here are bright, colourful, and even blinding sometimes! Look at it, all the shades of yellow and orange compared to the Mojave's dreadful brown.

This beats that sandblasted hell hole any day!

Kicking his feet on the coffee table, the Courier lounged back on his couch with a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla. He's been a devoted fan of the drink ever since he got a taste for it as a kid… if he can remember when that is. Fuck Nuka-Cola, Sunset Sarsaparilla supremacy! Maybe he'll try replicating the recipe here and sell it, heh, imagine that, soon they'll be calling him Mr. Courier like the people in the Strip used to call Robert Edwin House 'Mr. House'.

…wait.

Nevermind that, what matters now is sitting here and waiting for Atlas to get off their ass and send him the appropriate amount of 'workers' so that he can 'lift' the trade embargo. The Courier smirked; he'll just reopen the docks close to Anima while banning any air traffic coming in from Mistral instead. Right now it's the other way around; the docks are closed for cargo transport while the airways are open for only PASSENGER bullheads. That means no cargo is coming in Vacuo city via air.

He'll just reverse the two by reopening the docks connected to Anima while completely closing down the landing pads for bullheads with any Mistrali or Atlas markings. Atlas moves their cargo through the continent before taking a short boat trip from the tip of Anima to Vacuo. Once the cargo is at the docks, they either use bullheads to transport them to the city or create a convoy to run through the desert, with the former being the far safer option between the two of course.

Basically, he's forcing Atlas to run convoys through Vacuo, which becomes a prime target for whatever bandit tribes are left inside the continent. The Courier doesn't care about whatever Dust Atlas sends to Vacuo, he wants to be as petty as possible, and if that means letting them be attacked by bandits? So be it.

Besides, he can always get Johan to retrieve the Dust later; those Atlas convoys are tough, the last one got hit by a bandit tribe and they took out more than half of the bandits alone! The convoy will either reach Vacuo city or be taken out by the bandits, either way, it doesn't really affect Vacuo city that much.

Unfortunately though, they had to stop their Vertibird operations in Mantle because the Atlas Military found out about it. They've been airdropping supplies into Mantle and even running evacuations as well, bringing as many people out as possible. More people for Vacuo to take care of means more power to the kingdom… and more power to the Republic as well.

The Courier, after a decade of doing absolutely nothing with his life, decided now to set his sights on a more ambitious goal. Back in the Mojave it was convincing the Think Tank to send him to the moon, which went nowhere. And now on Remnant? It's to kill Salem and assert himself as the one to do it… but no one knows about Salem though; hmm… maybe he'll reveal the truth once he finds out a way to kill someone who has the same magical hocus-pocus abilities as Ozpin.

He thought about for quite some time, either he gets the silver eyes or somehow inherit the Maiden powers… both sounds equally as unlikely, the silver eyes are nearly extinct while in order to get the Maiden powers, he needed to be a woman.

Since the Courier is a collection of artificial vital organs piloting the flesh outside, he can just easily use the Transportalponder to return to Big MT, go to the Forbidden Dome, and request a full body change from Dr. Mobius so that he can transfer his brain, heart, spine, and whatever other organs to a female body instead. The reason why he hasn't done that yet is because he doesn't know if the teleporter in the Forbidden Dome would still teleport him to Remnant.

He'd rather not chance it. What if he uses the teleporter, fully expecting to be transported to Remnant, but then it teleported him to the Mojave instead? It'd be a headache! And he would be so frustrated if that were to happen.

He also needed to avoid getting his head blown open too, since the Transportalponder is hooked to a dead man's switch in his brain. The moment that thing goes kaput, the Transportalponder will automatically activate, teleporting him back to Big MT for another head replacement.

Those head replacements are nasty; he never liked getting his head replaced, especially when his brain gets blown up. Whenever that happens, he'd forget things, sometimes its trivial things while other times it's really serious. He hadn't visited Zion or Jacobstown in like four to five years, then boom, his head exploded from a bottlecap mine and he forgot that both of those places existed. Well, not really 'forgotten', more like the memories just disappear temporarily before the data banks in the Forbidden Dome can sync back up with his new brain.

The more recent memories are retained when he gets a new brain, except for the memory of his death but that's a whole other can of worms. Old memories like Jacobstown or Zion takes significantly longer to return, and when they do, the Courier has to mentally dig through all the old memories to find the specific one that he wanted to remember, and if he doesn't then he'd just forget completely! Dr. Mobius was about to make it so that the Courier has photographic memory, where he can pick and choose which memory to remember in perfect clarity.

He declined of course, mainly because he didn't want to remember all the embarrassing shit that happened… or will happen. Is this what they call a 'mid-life crisis'? Ulysses warned him that this would happen one day, and being reminded that he's pushing fifties is fucking terrifying!

That's why he gives people who asked for his age a range instead of the exact number, being reminded of his actual age makes him feel older than before. But he'll probably die for real before he can reach Mr. House's age though, imagine being two-hundred-plus years old, can't be him.

He just realized this now, when he traversed through Big MT all those months ago while dragging that Auto-Doc that Julie requested to the Forbidden Dome, some dumbfuck Lobotomite ricocheted a fifty cal round of a wall that flew right to his dome. Fortunately, the Sink's Auto-Doc also has a box of spare heads courtesy of Dr. Mobius; he got it quickly reattached before continuing on with his journey.

'Don't get yourself killed too often!' Dr. Mobius once said, 'Sometimes the brain struggles to sync up with the data banks, causing you to not remember your death at all!' that sucks, 'Fortunately, the brain will successfully be synced up after about a few weeks or so, faster if you take Mentats!'

Man, it sucks being semi-immortal! Thank god for Arcade, the Courier honestly doesn't know how he can function without the guy.

…Wait, if he kidnaps a surgeon from like Atlas or something, he can probably threaten them to do the body swap! Genius! All he needed now was a woman's dead body and several expert surgeons to carefully lift the artificial organs from this body and transplant it to the next one! Excellent, he sees no flaws with this plan!

The Courier downed the bottle in one go before popping a few tablets of Mentats into his mouth, going after the silver eyes might be easier and all but the Maiden powers? Hello? Free magic? Sign him up!

His Pip-Boy vibrated on his arm, holding the golden-encrusted piece of art up to his face, he answered the call, "Who is this?"

"Courrier? Get your ass down to Mistral right now!" Adam was calling, he must've wanted a refill or something, "You gave me two packets before fucking off to Vacuo? The hell man?"

"Two packets? I thought I told you to ration them out!" the Courier leaned farther back on his couch, what reason does he have to leave Vacuo right now? To answer the beck and call of some child asking for drugs? No way!

"It's been nearly a month you fucking imbecile, two packets aren't enough to last me a month," Adam spat back, "Need I remind you that being a White Fang commander is hard fucking work?! I'm more stressed now than I'll ever be! I feel like I've aged twenty fucking years already!"

"What reason do I have to leave Vacuo right now?" the Courier asked, "Nah you gotta deal with this on your own man, if you want a refill then come to Vacuo, I have a country to run y'know?"

"Fuck you."

"Uh huh, love you too, hugs and kisses," Adam scoffed before hanging up, rude kid. His parents probably should've taught him better.

Anyways, back to his plan! Implanting a head with the silver eyes onto his original torso? It's easy and quick with little to no risk BUT it's not as cool as the power of the Maidens. Meanwhile, completely changing his gender and body to receive sick-ass magic powers? Hell yeah!


"The engine swap wasn't easy at all," Johan sighed, dropping her glass of 'agave' juice onto the bar table, "I had to like… strip the MX-5 down to its bare components, I pulled out the entire front bumper and hood to redo everything under it!" she took a sip from the glass, "Had to redo the suspensions too… maybe you're right, maybe I should've bought something like a Mistralian SR5 or Hilux or something…"

"I told you so," Mint chuckled, "If you had bought a Mistralian pickup truck, we would've had a bunch of leftover Lien for modifications!" Johan grumbled, "I bet that engine swap alone cost more than a factory-new MX-5."

"Stop bullshitting me man," Johan punched Mint on the shoulder, he laughed, "…it cost me more than my previous S2000 actually," Mint cackled, "Shut up! Stop laughing!"

"I bet you had to downgrade to a Civic huh?" Mint kept laughing, "Or an old-generation Accord!"

"Oh yeah, says the guy who got his Supra crushed under a Mech!" Mint immediately stopped laughing, "Uh huh, not so funny now is it?"

"Yeah, it sucked, I spent like three-quarters of my salary on that car," a tear then rolled down his cheek, "and I didn't have insurance… I had to downgrade to a fucking Mantlean Crown Vic… now they think I'm some kind of undercover cop! I can't even join races anymore!"

"You mean the illegal ones? Now that's where you're wrong," Johan smirked, "Street races don't give you enough Lien to justify the risk, why don't you join the more LEGAL tourneys instead?"

"You mean the Sunday Cup in Mantle?" he scoffed, "Hell no, I don't want my Crown Vic to be jacked and driven off by some fuck with a crowbar!"

"It's either that or you give up racing my man, I don't know what to tell you," she laughed, "But still, a Crown Vic?! You lost that much money huh?"

"The reason why the Supra costs so much was because of all the modifications," he sighed, taking a swig of his plain water, "When you drive it stock, its shit, but if you tune it just right…" Mint emphasized with his hands, "Boom, best car, I spent thousands of Lien on the tires, the suspensions, and even more on an engine swap…" he then groaned before dropping his forehead on the bar table, "All that money… gone…"

"I thought you didn't like tuner cars?" Johan raised an eyebrow, "What? Finally appreciating my Atlas MX-5 for what it is now?" she laughed, "You're an anomaly dude! You like MDM cars but dislike tuner cars? MDM cars are tuner cars you fucking idiot!"

"Okay, first off, no, your MX-5 still a shitbox," Mint said, "Second, the Supra is the only car that I'll accept as a 'tuner'," he said in heavy quotation marks, "At least I didn't RICE the fucking thing like you did with your S2000."

"Okay, that's a low blow man."

"Low blow? You wanna talk about low? Any more camber on that fucking thing and it'd be under the ground! Need I mention the spoiler?" Johan frowned, sighing before downing her 'agave' juice, "You even added an underglow to it… and the stickers… so many stickers…"

"I'll have you know that each sticker adds an additional one Dustpower," Johan cracked up while saying that, "Sorry, sorry, can't say it with a straight face. But fuck you, the spoiler was sick and awesome and you know it."

"The wing was wider than the actual car!" Mint laughed, extending his arms to show how large the spoiler was.

"That's what makes it cool!" Johan snapped back, punching him in the shoulder to stop him from extending his arms, "It gives more downforce! More grip in the turns."

"Then how come your car got hit by a spike strip?" the atmosphere immediately went cold as Johan glared at him, basically burning a hole through his head before she huffed and turned back to her drink.

"Okay, now that's not funny dude."

"Sorry."

"You should be."

Mint chuckled nervously, asking the bartender for a refill on his water before taking another sip. Ahh, fresh cold water in the middle of the Vacuan desert… nothing can beat this. He then glanced at their third member sitting close by.

Lavs just watched the conversation silently, she didn't know enough about cars to join in on the fun, so she just kinda sat there, watching, silent.

…Something is seriously wrong with that woman. Mint won't say it out loud of course, and neither would Johan. She just doesn't fit in… at all; Lavs was always just there in the background, never once participating in any of their conversations.

It's weird and unsettling! She's weird and unsettling! Lavs was so different before Courrier took her under his wing! She was meek, shy, and extremely anti-social but y'know… in an endearing way! Now she looked like an assassin planning their next hit or something…

Mint felt a chill go down his spine when he glanced over towards her only to see her eyes dead set on the two of them.

Scary…

Johan coughed, "This shit is just straight sugar," she held the 'agave' juice up to her eyes, "Not that I'm complaining of course…" she downed the cup, "Man that hits the spot."

"Well it's either that or plain water," the bartender snarked, "Sometimes we'd mix it up a bit with the barrel cactus, make a cocktail or a smoothie or something like that," Johan perked up at this, "Only on Fridays though," she deflated instantly, "Hey, keeping a good stock of food and water is necessary for a place like Vacuo city."

"Ever since the Republic rolled in, everything's been going extremely well for the city, surprisingly enough," he chuckled, "Guess that shows how Vacuo's been shafted by the other kingdoms, if it took one of our countrymen to stabilize the region then what the hell were all the other kingdoms doing?"

"I'm glad that Vacuo city went fully independent, relying on those bastards to fix our problems only gives them more power to use over us," the bartender sighed, "Err, no offense of course…"

"Nah I get it, Mistral's government's fucked," Johan chuckled, "They still haven't dealt with the bandit tribes in Anima yet, and I'm like 'what the hell are all of you doing?' y'know?" she took a sip from her glass, "These bandit tribes can't be that much of a problem, send in a couple of Huntsmen teams and boom, problem solved!"

"The most prominent one is the Branwen tribe," Mint rotated his glass on the bar table, "Yep, the same Branwen as Qrow Branwen, so they're a pretty big deal."

"Pfft, I want you to think who wins a fight between them and a group of Huntsmen," Johan scoffed, "Eight fully trained Huntsmen with Semblances and Aura against a horde of unwashed bandits where only a few of them and their leader have Aura…"

"The bandit tribes win," Lavs spoke up suddenly, Mint jumped a bit at this, "Most Huntsmen don't have what it takes to kill the ones without Aura… and the ones with Aura are aiming to kill them," she stared at the two of them, "If you go into a fight with the intent to kill against someone who doesn't…"

Lavs stopped suddenly before turning away and looking down at her palms, "Uhh… Nevermind me… Just forget that I'm here to begin with…" she shrunk, "I'll… I'm gonna go outside…"


Pyrrha watched Eryth worked from a distance, watching as he worked the soil and toiled away at the farms. Even after that fight, she didn't know what or how to feel about the man. Pyrrha noticed that he never referred to her by anything other than her first name, no 'daughter' or nothing. Her mother never mentioned him much in all of their conversations; it was only until recently that she told her about him.

Spotting Ms. Greenhorn exiting a bar from her peripheral vision, she quickly moved towards her as she sat down on a bench, sighing and rubbing her forehead, "Ms. Greenhorn?" she jumped, "I uh… can I- can you give me some advice?"

She looked surprised at this, "Advice? Me? Of all people?" Pyrrha nodded, "I- okay, sure," she patted the space next to her on the bench, Pyrrha sat down, "So uh… what's troubling you… right now?"

Pyrrha fidgeted nervously, "This is about Eryth isn't it?" she turned to Ms. Greenhorn in surprise, "Courrier told me all about it, and I… get it, I get what you're going through," she patted Pyrrha on the shoulder, "Eryth is a coward, he's afraid, he's impulsive, and oh so very dense, and you need to understand that," Pyrrha looked down at her palms dejectedly, "I'm not telling you to give him a second chance, because it's clear that he doesn't deserve it, but you have what you need now right? You know who your father is… even if it's not the person that you expected."

"There's nothing forcing you to stay here anymore," she furrowed her brows, Ms. Greenhorn continued, "Why do you stay?"

"I guess I wanted to… convince him to return to my mother," Pyrrha glanced at Eryth, "I think that'd make her happier… I think… she doesn't talk about him much but I can tell that she misses him…"

"Uh… damn I got nothing," Ms. Greenhorn retracted her hand, rubbing her chin, "This entire situation is really complicated… wow," she then sighed, scratching her hair before turning to Pyrrha, "I guess the only question is what do you want to do?"

"I don't know, that's why I asked you." Ms. Greenhorn blinked at Pyrrha's retort before looking away and coughing nervously. She then quickly turned back around with a more serious expression on her face… although Pyrrha could see that it was very forced.

"Why do you need me to tell you what to do?" Ms. Greenhorn raised an eyebrow, pointing at Eryth, "If you want to convince him to go back then do it, if you don't then don't, simple as… I think…"

"Listen Pyrrha, Eryth has the maturity of a fucking newborn baby but I know for a fact that he isn't a terrible person, if you ask him nicely enough I bet he'll follow you to the ends of Remnant," Ms. Greenhorn smiled before clenching a fist and doing a punching motion, "If he gets difficult then don't hesitate to tell me, I'll make him regret it."

"Thanks… but you don't have to do that," Pyrrha pried Ms. Greenhorn's fingers off her shoulder, "Thank you, Ms. Greenhorn, I… I really appreciated it," she smiled, "Even if your advice leaves… a lot to be desired."

"Hey!" Pyrrha chuckled, Ms. Greenhorn huffed before crossing her arms, "What're you waiting for then? Go, go and use your skills to coerce him into returning."

"Thanks Ms. Greenhorn."

"No problem." She smiled, patting Pyrrha on the shoulders before sending her off like a mother letting their children off to school for the first time… Pyrrha really needed to work on her metaphors…

Pyrrha confidently walked over to Eryth before standing right in front of him, pointing a finger at the man, and asking, "Will you come back with me to Mistral?" the other farmers all looked confused before shrugging and returning back to their work. Looks like the xenophobia has reduced by a small amount, they're accepting mixed-Vacuans now! Hooray!

Although… "You better not leave Vacuo city!" a farmer light-heartedly jeered from across the street, the woman had a large grin on her face, "Don't wanna be a race traitor now would ya?"

"Leaving Vacuo isn't a 'race traitor' thing," Eryth chuckled, he then turned to Pyrrha with a more serious look on his face, "Sure, okay, I'll follow you back to Mistral then," he then sighed, looking down at the crops beneath his feet, "I've been thinking about it and… yeah, I fucked up, the least I can do is just to be there for you and your mother."

"Wow, it's just like a soap opera," another farmer chuckled, "It's like 'Real Housewives of Remnant'!" the guy cackled before being smacked in the head by another farmer, "Ow! What gives?!" he rubbed the top of his head as he glared at the person that just smacked him.

"That's Reality TV you fucking idiot! What you're thinking of is 'The Young and the Faunus'!" more farmers laughed at this, Eryth turned around, acting in a melodramatic way as he placed a hand on his chest and leaned backwards.

"Your comments wound me~!" Eryth laughed along with the jokes, Pyrrha sighed, Ms. Greenhorn was right. Ask nicely enough and he'll follow, and he really does have the maturity of a newborn child. She felt kinda bad though, taking him away from his home in Vacuo… Pyrrha then shook her head; she can't second guess herself anymore!

Mr. Courrier said that she needed to think more for herself, and that she shouldn't be so dependent on others or second guess her actions! From now on, Pyrrha Nikos will do things HER way! She clutched the bullet necklace in her hands before nodding at her father.

"I'll get the bullhead ready; we'll leave when you're ready."

"Sure thing, kid, and uh… thanks… for putting up with me."


Adam nearly crushed his Scroll after that conversation with Courrier. How dare that bastard just fuck with him like this?! Doesn't he know the amount of stress that comes with managing the White Fang?! Sienna's being even more annoying as of late… the Albain morons tried arguing with him about pulling the White Fang out of Vale, who the fuck do those two think they are to question his decisions?!

Adam threatened to bite their heads off which worked to deter the idiots a bit but they continued to pester him about his 'unsatisfactory work in the White Fang' and that he wasn't 'doing a good enough job at it'.

…Adam contemplates killing them and hiding the bodies in a ditch. He'd make occasional travels back to Menagerie to attend the important, albeit rare, meetings between the White Fang higher ups. He was currently on a bullhead heading towards Kuo Kuana right now; he needed to discuss some things with Sienna, and maybe make his attempt on the Albain pricks' lives.

The meeting was a thing devised by Ghira to gather the leader of all the White Fang sects across Remnant, probably because he knows that people still respected him immensely. Sienna had moved her operations to Menagerie after Adam requested that he be in charge of running operations in Mistral instead. It was a tough verbal battle but thanks to the copious amounts of Mentats and alcohol that he took prior to the argument, he won, somehow, miraculously.

He quickly remade the White Fang Throne Room that Sienna used into something less… cult-ish. Instead opting for a basic room used for devising battle plans instead. Although the high ceilings still gave it this cult-like vibe… Sienna might be leader of the White Fang, but damn her tastes in interior design and architecture are bad…

The bullhead landed and he made his way through the markets and the districts of Kuo Kuana, before entering the Belladonna Family house. There he met Blake again… it was an uncomfortable encounter to say the least.

Blake looked wary of him, "Adam…" she slowly breathed out, looking like she's about to pull out her sword and began hacking away at him any second now.

"Blake," he replied back, the two just stood there in silence before Ghira coughed and ushered him into the meeting room, he then quickly walked out and shut the door. The Albain dickheads began the meeting by sending thinly-veiled threats at Adam, to which he responded with actual threats.

"We believe that Adam Taurus have not done enough in the interest of the White Fang," he snarled at this, "Pulling his forces out of Vale was the first of many of his… questionable actions…"

"Furthermore, he seems to place a lot of trust in this 'John Courrier'," one of the bastards said in heavy quotations marks, "How do we know that he's not a spy for the kingdoms to disrupt our operations? Heck, how do we know that he's a Faunus at all?" one of the Albains smirked at Adam before sitting back down.

"Fennec, Corsac, if you're done spouting your shit then I'll take the stage," Adam scowled at the two pieces of shit, "Withdrawing White Fang troops from Vale was a decision made by John Courrier in order to protect the White Fang from being involved in a situation as dire as the attack on Vale," he glared at the Albain twats before continuing his speech, "Our subsequent relocation to Mistral have proved to be extremely effective so far."

Adam smirked, "The villages surrounding the city of Mistral is on our side, we aim to start operations inside the city as soon as resources becomes available, which might never happen as Fennec and Corsac denied all of our requests," everybody turned towards the Albain twins, who both have sour expressions on their faces, Adam smirked, getting them out of the way would do good for the White Fang…

"Fennec? Corsac? Is what he said correct?" Sienna raised an eyebrow as everybody turned to see their response. They just scowled in silence.

"Oh… what happened fox boys? Your fight or flight instincts kicked in?" Adam mocked the two before stopping as Sienna sneered at him.

"You insolent-" "Oh sorry, I mistake you for a deer Faunus because of how utterly pathetic you look!" Adam raised his voice, slamming his hand on the table as he stood up, pointing at the bastard, "You bastards have fucked us over in every sense of the word! Denying our requests? Openly blaming us for your mistakes?!" "That's enough, Adam, sit down."

He clicked his tongue as he sat back down, his arms crossed as he glared at the twins… "Adam, this plan of yours in Mistral, mind elaborating more on it?" Sienna opened a folder and looked through one of the reports that he sent back, "All I see is your sect of the White Fang going around helping miscellaneous villages, while you are garnering good attention towards the White Fang… this plan of yours seemed too much like Ghira's old plan… his more passive way of activism might've worked in the long term, but with the political climate of the kingdoms right now? We don't know if long term even works…"

"Vale is at least on our side," Adam rubbed his chin, "Thanks to Courrier's warning, we were able to evacuate the White Fang out of the city before the attack can happen," he leaned back on his seat, "Courrier's also established himself as a heroic figure, and a Faunus one at that, if you checked the news, you'd notice how sentiments towards human-Faunus relations have changed compared to last year's."

"Hmm, looks like he did well on that promise," Sienna smirked, "Still, the direction that Courrier is taking in Vacuo will be a problem, as he has basically created a third race altogether," she sighed, "Vacuans now see themselves as different compared to the other kingdoms, but as long as they don't bother us, we won't bother them."

"It's like another Menagerie for the Faunus living in the other kingdoms, even if it opens its doors to a very small demographic of Faunus with Vacuan blood in them," she closed the folder and placed it neatly on the table, "Adam, continue with your operations in Mistral but I want you to accelerate your plans," he nodded, "Fennec, Corsac, you will work with Adam, the White Fang will not tolerate infighting or any intentional sabotage."

The two reluctantly agreed, "Good, now as for-" whatever happened next, Adam did not care to know. The entire meeting went by in a blur; he only focused on the important parts like how citizens in Mantle are being airlifted out of the city by Vacuan 'bullheads' or how the rebuilding efforts in Vale are going. Outside of those two things, the rest of the meeting was completely irrelevant to his mission.

When the meeting ended, Adam quickly got out of the room and as far away from the Albains as quickly as possible. After speed-walking halfway across Kuo Kuana, he collapsed onto a bench, reaching into his pocket to grab a Mentats packet… before realizing that it's empty. Silently cursing under his breath, he just sat there; staring off into the distance as several passer-bys would occasionally mistake him for a homeless person and dropped a Lien card on his lap. He'd be insulted… if not for the free money. He quickly pocketed the Lien card before someone like Ilia snatch it away from him.

He bounced his leg nervously… no, not 'nervously', he was getting jitters, "I can see you," Adam said to Blake, who was hiding somewhere out of sight. She slowly approached him, still wary of him. Her hands were close to her weapon, good, better safe than sorry.

"What are you doing here Adam?"

"Working, busting my ass off because you left," he grimaced, "D'you know you could've done so much more if you stayed? Ever thought about that?"

"You've changed."

"Good, because the old me would've thrown the White Fang away so that I can have a chance at getting you back," she blushed lightly; Adam just stared off into the distance, "I- I won't apologize for who I was before, because that won't bring back the Faunus that died because of my poor decisions," he reached into his pocket, fingers brushing the Mentats box, feeling the cardboard on his skin as he sighed, "Then I got help, and realized that the cause was more important, and that…" he sighed, "That I probably should just let it go. My pride, my obsession with you, all of it."

Blake watched him with an unreadable expression on her face, he wasn't looking for her approval, so it matters little to him, "In a way, I'm glad that you ran," he breathed out, his leg slowly stop jittering as he leaned back on the bench, "Because if you didn't… then I'd probably go down a path that I'd regret."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it, "I'm… glad to hear that, Adam."

"Yeah… I'm glad too," he chuckled lightly; Blake sat down next to him. And for the first time in a long while, two friends sat there in comfortable silence. Adam felt relieved, getting all of this baggage out, although he wished he could've done it earlier.


This is a big one, hope ya'll enjoy it though!

Guest: If you're still reading this story then thanks! Now I've never been to the Mojave myself, so I'm using what I see in the game for this fanfic. On the road to Nipton, just past the Ranger Outpost, the Courier walks past a big open field of (what I presume to be) sand, it's also where the Giant Ants spawn. The Mojave is also a really big place, and its called a desert for a reason (I know not all deserts are filled with sand but most of them are!).

Also, the Courier's as dumb as a bag of rocks, as expected of any Mentats addict.

I really do want to make the pilgrimage to IRL Goodsprings though. But as circumstances would have it, my religious New Vegas journey would have to wait... It'll be a workout too, walking the same road that the Courier did to get to New Vegas.

New Vegas is also bathed in this piss-filter that makes everything looks brown or orange, while the trees and foliage in RWBY looks like it came straight out of a Van Gogh painting with how vibrant everything looked. The Courier would've had a stroke if he got teleported to Forever Falls first. Even in places like Zion or Jacobstown, the piss-filter turns what's supposed to be bright green trees into puke green trees.

As for 'the Courier have never seen a tree before'... yeah, that's an oversight. But hopefully this chapter will satisfy you demonic readers out there who focuses on every detail, which is impressive by the way, I can't do that!

Thanks for reading!

P.S. What are elf inserts? Please clarify, are they like dwarf inserts?