Chapter Ninety-Five

Four Days Prior.

I waited, as Blake and Yang checked their loadouts, Pyrrha having gone over mine, not that I was too worried, as I could always step Home if I needed something, though explaining how I got whatever that was might be an issue.

It was odd, the last couple of days without team RRWN, as we'd all been together for long enough that having them around had become my new normal. Without them, we'd skipped out on our regular trainings, leaving me feeling a bit like I was missing something. But, despite that gnawing sensation in my gut, I just had to trust that they'd be fine, that they were trained up enough to handle whatever was thrown at them, and that the Huntsman that was their mentor would keep them from doing something… unwise.

At Oz's direction, I was working on my Flame, which I'd been told by the man that most considered my Semblance, along with my other Dragon features, and was currently winding a small bit of it about my fingers in a stream. I'd tried adding a tiny little head and claws to it, in order to turn it into an eastern dragon, but that level of detail was currently beyond me, and, after my partner had pointed out that giving it a bulbous head made it look mildly phallic, I'd given up on it for now, focusing more on direction, flow, and intensity, losing bits of Flame constantly to the air of Remnant, passively infused as it was with Grimm Taint, so to keep a working going at a constant level I had to drip-freed it bits of Flame from my own internal reserves, something that was much less noticeable when I only had a small tongue of it out as opposed to larger gouts, but doing so trained my own sense of my power as well.

"Think I'll need my hair-dryer?" Yang questioned, holding up the tool.

"We'll only be there for a little bit," her partner disagreed, packing her fifth book. "Just poking around, seeing what's wrong, and coming back." She paused, glancing my way, "Right, Jaune?"

Pyrrha nodded, "Though, if something is wrong, we will likely be asked to put it right."

Our Brawler frowned, "Kinda worried we haven't heard anything from Rubes. I know they left yesterday, but her Scroll's not even on the network anymore."

"Her Huntsman mentor might've had her turn it off. If they're hunting bandits, there's ways to detect active Scrolls," the ex-terrorist commented absently, having probably used such things herself, then hesitated, and glanced around, to see if anyone caught that slip-up.

"Oh, yes, I've heard of that," our Gladiatrix noted, "from some of the Huntsmen I fought with. I'm sure everything is perfectly fine, Yang."

"We've trained her well," I added. "Ruby's got this."

The blonde nodded to herself, "I, thanks, Pyr. Blake." She glanced my way, then quickly turned back to her bag, the Faunus standing next to her frowning, but not saying anything herself.

Rolling my eyes, I went back to manipulating my Flame, weaving it between my fingers, from hand to hand, adding more and more to make the stream longer, trying to make a cat's cradle, only to realize I had no idea how. Instead, I 'snapped' them into two streams that I made chase each other, until a flash of movement caught my eye, and, looking up, I saw they were done. Checking my Scroll, we had enough time to make it, so I stood, dismissing my Flame, grabbing my pack and telling them, "Okay, let's go."

A short walk to the skyport, and there the man of the hour was, waiting for us,

"Greetings, young Huntsman and Huntresses!" the grey-haired juggernaut that was Professor Port greeted us. "Are you ready to sally forth and in our fearless forays face the ferocious and fell fiends that frighten our frailer far-spread fellows!"

"Ffff… fuck yeah?" I offered in reply, response weak, the man looking disappointed at my statement. "Sorry, I can't think of any agreements that start with F."

"Fortunately, it is your martial skills that will be tested, not your literary ones!" the man grinned, which was fair-

Damnit, I could've said we were 'fairly' ready, I thought as, behind me, Yang remarked sarcastically, "Oh, this is gonna be grrreeeaaaat."

"Indeed it will!" the Veteran Huntsman boomed, turning and walking towards a flight pad. "Now, let us be off! We shall be taking my personal craft!"

Following the berth he was heading towards, we spotted… a flying brick.

"You… You've crashed that into a Grimm before, haven't you?" Blake questioned, with the air of someone asking a question they already knew the answer to, but didn't want to be correct.

"Several!" Port bragged. "Perhaps I will again this time! Isn't the uncertainty of adventure exciting?"

"Wooo, aaadventure," Yang replied deadpan.

Pyrrha frowned at the blonde, adding, "Well I am certainly looking forward to it! How about you, Jaune?"

I nodded, as the clearly reinforced side latch popped open, and we all piled in, expecting a cramped space, but it was… surprisingly roomy. There was seating along both sides, with a decently wide corridor to walk down, one large dark red backpack hung up in the rear, with additional hooks that we used for our own luggage.

"This isn't expanded space, is it?" I questioned, looking around. On one hand, you did not use those for civilian transport because, if it was damaged, expanded spaces crunched together. Then again, given we were all Huntsmen, we might be able to survive that, and Port absolutely could.

"No, learned that lesson after my third ship!" the heavyset man called back over his shoulder as he took a seat in the pilot's seat, and I wasn't really sure if he was joking. "Just a smart use of space! Everyone in?"

Moving up, and seeing the copilot position was free, I told him, "We are," taking a seat in it, looking over the controls.

Flipping a few switches, Port sent the ship's engines humming to life, the outside door closing, and, with a faint sway, we took off, heading west, over the large lake between Beacon and Vale, slowly turning north, our destination beyond the Emerald Forest, in the foothills and mountains that were North-Eastern Sanus.

"You know how to fly?" the elder Huntsman questioned, as I looked over the controls, trying to figure out what did what.

"Fly, yes, use everything installed, no, and land… I'll get back to you on that one," I replied. "Doing it this way is a bit more complicated than just 'flap and miss the ground'. Left, right to turn, tilt to rotate, er, roll, pull goes up, push goes down. But I don't know what half of these things do," I said, waving over the console.

That got a hearty laugh from the white-haired man, who took our craft fully around to pass by the school, but not over it, lifting his ship high, and settling in on a straight bearing. "That is very true. Would you like to learn? Even as fast as the 'Bustard' is, it will be several hours before we reach Gabbro."

Glancing back, I asked my teammates, "Everyone good?"

"We are!" my partner called back, Yang on her phone, and Blake already reading Book two of the Night Angel Trilogy. Looking back to Port, who was giving me an approving smile, I nodded, paying careful attention as he started to go over the specifics of how to use this absolute beast of a transport.

DR

The sun was almost fully set as we approached our destination, Port having let me take control of it for a little bit, but, now that we were closing in on Gabbro, we'd all suited up, weapons at the ready, for degrees of ready.

Given that all contact had been lost several days earlier, we could find anything from a city-under siege to a smoking ruin. While waiting a few days before checking it out might mean we were a few days too late, this was, apparently, Standard Operating Procedures, spending the time to put together a group that could handle whatever was there of higher priority than a swift response, as just sending 'whoever we have, as fast as we can' merely resulted in more dead Huntsman more often than not, so a team of elites was required..

And, between Port, Pyrrha, and myself, we had that team.

Blake and Yang, while good, were just… not at the same level, at least when it came to Grimm. The Faunus was very much an anti-personnel fighter, likely due to her experience fighting Atlas Androids and the like, her style good at crowd management if the crowd had human-ish traits, while Yang was very much a single-target fighter, be they Huntsmen or Alphas, even now, and while she could pinball between foes, she didn't handle mass combat that well. Together, they covered each other's weaknesses, which was good, but they couldn't lay down the mass smackdown like Pyrrha or I could, and Port, well, was Port.

As we crested the last of the forested hills hiding the city away, and giving Gabbro a natural buffer against Grimm, it was… perfectly fine?

Squinting, my Dragon eyes could make out finer details than I ever could before in my old body, but nothing was destroyed, nothing was on fire, nothing really seemed that of place, really. The entire city had a large stone wall surrounding it, which bore claw-marks and impact craters, patched with newer-looking stone that didn't quite match the grain of that around it, but… "Everything looks- wait."

It wasn't my experience, but Jaune's, that made the key details catch my eye. There were farms outside the walls, as were often the case, every settlement trying to supplement their supplies, feasible as Grimm cared nothing about plants. Those structures were odd to my eyes, what little I knew of historical cities like this clashing a little, but those details were not worthy of note to the person this body used to belong to.

No, it was the fact that a few fields were only partially harvested, tools visibly buried, or dropped, in the ground seemingly mid-reaping, that caught my grafted attention.

"What?" Yang questioned, the rest of my team crowding up to look out through the front, the only viewport this armored brick had. "Looks normal to me."

"Ho ho, given your background, I can see why you'd notice!" Port chortled. "Care to share, young Huntsman?"

Pointing, I observed, "They've not finished gathering their crops. No reason to do that unless they're worried about getting attacked, but they're far enough away from the walls that, if it were bandits, they would've either harvested the food themselves or ruined the harvest to pressure the defenders to give in. And not only that, they didn't put things away, but seemed to have just ran, which, if it rains, will ruin what they've already harvested."

"Which means the issue is Grimm! And an Alpha at that!" the professional agreed excitedly. "One who is still in the gathering phase, the scattered smaller foes it is calling to itself breaking upon the walls in unpredictable waves before it is ready for the main event!"

"But then why didn't they call for help?" Blake questioned.

"Check your Scrolls," our mentor instructed knowingly, and, as we did so, we discovered that none of us had service. While I could still access my… extradimensional features, everything local just showed no service available.

Blake frowned, "But I thought you said it wasn't bandits?"

"It's not!" the elder Huntsmen stated jovially. "Just as, when I was your age, Grimm that disrupted Radio signals started appearing, in the last few years we've started seeing Grimm that disrupt Scroll signals as well! It will probably be going into the syllabus next year, and I was going to introduce you to them next semester!"

He shook his head, "Just like the Radi-ants of old, from what our Huntsmen and Huntresses in the field have been able to tell us, the Scrollamanders are cowards, but if you see a lizard Grimm with crystal antennas, take it out right quick, but don't get too close, because they'll give you quite the shock, Ho Ho Ho! Why, that reminds me of the time-"

"Maybe we should focus on landing right now?" I interrupted. "Sir?"

The large man paused, then nodded. "Yes, yes, of course Young Jaune! But remind me tonight!"

Yeah, I'm… probably not doing that, I thought, glancing to my other teammates, Yang going out of her way to give me a quick shake of her head no, which was the most communication I'd had with her all week. Or I could, I thought, but pushed that contrary thought away, as I got a good look at the small city.

Gabbro was a mining town of about five thousand, the mine itself dead center of the settlement, from which they pulled out metals and Earth Dust, the city laid out in a circle around it, with thirty-foot walls ringing everything except for the farms, the skyport just a few landing pads on top of a fortified structure that rose above the rest of the city.

It was supposed to have a compliment of twenty-four Huntsmen, and one was emerging out of the roof access as we touched down, identifiable as one since, slung across their back, was a mechashift… tuba? It looked ridiculous, but, then again, I vaguely remembered seeing someone with a weaponized trumpet on campus, so, maybe it worked for him?

"Allow me to handle this!" Our leader for this mission instructed, landing and powering down his airship. Toggling the door he moved past us, and we followed him out, the large Huntsman greeting the Tuba-wielder. "Hello, Young Man! My name is Peter Port, and I'm a Huntsman from Beacon!"

The, well, he was probably older than us, but his timid body language made me want to call him 'Kid', perked up, asking with strained hope, "So Silas and Bethany made it?"

Hesitating, Port replied, "I'm afraid I am not aware of whom you are referring to. Perhaps you can take us to whoever is in charge?"

The kid deflated, and I could practically see the depression coming off of him. "I, oh, uh, sure," he said, turning and walking back for the door. Sharing a glance with Pyrrha, she shrugged, the sun slipping over the horizon, and we followed the still unnamed Tuba-boy down the stairs and into a fairly spartan looking hallway.

"So, who was it?" an older woman's voice called.

"I, uh…" Tuba replied, pausing, but the teacher pushed past him, calling out, "Calliope, you old bitch! Looks like you're in a right spot of trouble!"

Behind me, Yang stumbled, disbelief stark on her face at the man's out-of-nowhere rudeness, "What."

From down the hall, I heard the sound of someone falling, then scramble to their feet, a Faunus running out of a doorway, the older Huntress's ears perked up, her blonde hair giving way to grey, as she stared at the man in surprise, "Port, you freakin' bloodbag!"

She looked past him, to Tuba-boy, "So then Beth-"

The older man shook his head, and she cut herself off, glancing towards us.

"Port, are those students?" she demanded, with growing dread.

"They are, in a way," the man informed her. "Students, this is Calliope Celadon, an old acquaintance of mine. Calliope, this is Blake Belladonna," the Huntsman stated, the older woman frowning, Port nodding minutely, which just caused the Huntress to frown harder. "Yang Xiao Long," he continued, "Pyrrha Nikos, and, lastly, Jaune Arc, Apprentice of Headmaster Ozpin."

"Yo," I waved. "So, this an Alpha, or something more?"

"More?" the woman questioned, confused, and annoyed, turning to the man in charge. "Port, what's going on?"

I blinked, as our professor shot me a slightly exasperated look. "Oh, uh, was I not supposed to say that?" I questioned, reddening slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry."

The huntsman cleared his throat, "It's something we should discuss. But first, Calliope, perhaps you could tell us what the situation is."

The woman stared at me for a long moment, before nodding, turning, and gesturing for us to follow. She led us to a meeting room, pictures of Huntsmen up on the walls, flowers set up on the windowsill, the air somber despite the cheery decorations. Taking her position at the head of the table, she gestured for us to sit, and we took our seats down one side, Tuba across from us.

"It started when we lost contact, then had some Grimm activity, Beowulfs, nothin' serious," she stated with a frown. "My kids had it covered, no one was injured but the Grimm… they pulled back," she slowly revealed, expression of discomfort deepening. "That freaked out a few of the youngsters, 'specially the ones from other kingdoms. Hell, the girl we had from Vacuo didn't even know what an Alpha was other than 'big Grimm'. Last few we had just tried to bust down the gates, so she didn't realize. Losin' the CCT spooked 'em worse, but brats these days, always dependent on their devices," she groused, glancing towards Tuba, who looked down.

"So you sent a team?" Port questioned.

"Course I sent a fuckin' team!" Celadon growled, then grimaced. "Damn good team too. All four of 'em speedsters, kinda. They were just supposed to scout, but the Grimm were waiting for 'em. Only the Ghost got out."

"Ghost?" I echoed.

Pyrrha whispered, "Intangibility Semblance," and I nodded in understanding.

Port frowned, "Did she report hearing any… voices?"

"She did," Celadon remarked slowly. "Thought it was a Shoggart, or maybe a Will-o'-Wasp swarm. Now I'm not sure. Either way, then the attacks came. I'd say they were probing attacks if they were bandits, but they weren't, and Alphas don't do that, not that well. Next day, half of us went out. I stayed back, and it was good that I did, as the bastards came at us from the back, but, of the eleven that went out to hunt the Alpha, only one came back. And he said they let him come back," she spat. "Port, the fuck is going on?"

"In a moment," the Huntsman replied, "Where did your bullheads go, Calliope?"

"Three of my people decided to head to Vale for help, and I sent 'em off myself. Yesterday, two more took the other Bullhead and tried to make a run for it," the Faunus stated. "Maybe they were running, maybe they were tryin' to get help. Since ya didn't see 'em, I guess it don't matter."

Tuba-boy looked up, "You mean they're…"

"Yeah, Thomas, they're probably dead," she told him, the young man paling, as she turned to look at me. "Now what the hell do you mean 'more'?"

I opened my mouth to respond, then paused, looking to Port, who nodded. "You know how Grimm go New, Grown, Advanced, then Alpha?" I questioned, and the woman's brows knit, as her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, turns out that's not the last step. Past that are Behemoths. They're to Alphas what Alphas are to Advanced. My team and I tangled with one over summer break. Aranea bigger than this building."

To my left, Yang shivered, while Blake's bow shifted, her ears likely folding down to press against her skull.

"You kill it?" the older woman demanded, and I shook my head. "You didn't!?"

Shrugging, I told her, "Well, I set it on fire, and mauled the shit out of it. Damn thing ran, along with a couple hundred of its young, down underground. Deeper underground. The other team we were vacationing with decided they wanted to explore a Grimm Tunnel, and we went in after them."

That got a snort of disgust from the woman. "They dead at least?"

Yang surged to her feet, hair glowing, "Fuck you! That's my sister you're talking about!"

"Your older sister's a fuckin' moron," the older woman shot back, barely moving, only giving my teammate a derisive look. "Goin' down one of those on their own? In Mistral they'd send you to jail for pullin' that."

Port cleared his throat, "Ms. Rose is, in fact, sixteen."

The older Huntress' face screwed up in confusion, "Then what the fuck was her team lead doing?"

"She is the leader of her team," the older man stated, the Huntress across from him looking offended at the thought. "Due to her talents, which, amongst other things, led to her surviving a confrontation with the kind of monster that, if one is present here, killed ten graduated Huntsmen. I believe Headmaster Ozpin hopes she will grow into her role."

Celadon bit back a snarl of her own, teeth bared, but collected herself, hanging her head, "What the hell is going on, Port?" she questioned, almost helplessly.

"The same as always," the teacher shrugged. "It's just coming to your city now. Current compliment?"

"Six, including me," she stated. "If the Tide surges, we're calling up the Aura'd Guards to help, and a few retirees. They aren't happy-"

"But civilians never are," the Huntsman nodded knowingly. "State of the defenses?"

The older woman shrugged, "Cannons are working, Mayor didn't scrimp on that. If we need Dust, we've got it."

"Should we be meeting the Mayor?" I questioned, getting a snort from the Huntress, who shot a look to Port.

The man cleared his throat, explaining, "While recounting of our successes should always be shared, a story in progress is one best kept to oneself."

"Wait!" Yang objected. "So people don't even know anything's going on!?"

"They know something's up, couldn't get the auxiliaries ready without letting that slip," Celadon offered, uncaring. "But I don't know how it was in Patch, or," her gaze shifted, "Menagerie, but causing a fuss helps no one."

"A fuss!" the brawler objected. "And Jaune's from Vale, not Menagerie!"

From the look the older woman gave my teammate, making it clear that Yang had missed something, it'd been Blake she was referring to, the dark-haired Faunus tensing, but the veteran Huntress continued before Yang could figure that out, "We've already got Grimm trouble, the pull a panicked populace would create would just add to their ranks, and our problems. We couldn't send our Bullheads off without them noticing, which means they know something's up, but we'll either handle this, or they're all dead. Telling them won't help, and they know it."

That was… Dark, I couldn't help but think, but I couldn't exactly argue. Dust rounds let anyone fight Grimm, but, from what I'd learned from others, while someone with Aura could extend the power that gave someone into even normal rounds, in the hands of an un-Awakened fighter, standard bullets were little more than bee stings to the Grimm, and anything older than a New Grimm required a level of skill to take down that, if someone had, well, they'd be a Huntsman.

Leaning back in her seat, Celadon looked to Port. "So, 'Prof', how 'bout a lesson on how to kill the thing that killed my people?"

While he smiled, the expression was a serious one. "It is much the same as hunting any other kind of Grimm. It depends on the type we are facing. You see, Grimm act in accordance with their natures, even the strongest of them. It is likely not an Ursa or Boarbatusk, as you know well how they like to charge forward, and a Nevermore would have bombarded the city. A Triclops perhaps, using the height of the surrounding hills to hide itself? The last few have been a Geist, a Teryx in Atlas, and a Sulfur Fish in Vacuo the size of a battleship. And Mr. Arc's Aranea, of course. But they emerged years apart."

"But why haven't we heard of these?" Thomas demanded. "To know what was out there?"

Port gave the boy a pitying look. "For much the same reason you have not informed the people of Gabbro of the danger they are in, Young Man. It would only hurt them. It takes Huntsmen and Huntresses of tremendous skill to face Behemoths, as well as overwhelming firepower, and any that run across them, when they realize they are dealing with, on average, a once in a decade event, globally? Why, by then, either they are exceptional enough to handle them, and have already been informed, as even if they knew what they were facing in truth, they could not escape."

"Doesn't feel good to have things kept from you, does it?" Yang sneered, and I opened my mouth to rebuke her, but Pyrrha beat me to it.

"That was uncalled for," my Partner stated, in tones like a blade being unsheathed.

Our mentor nodded. "Indeed, Ms. Nikos. We do not do so out of maliciousness, Ms. Long, but kindness. Having to inform others of such a thing is always a regretful occasion."

"So, what's the plan?" I questioned, trying to get the conversation back on track.

The elder Huntsman looked at the woman in charge of the local contingent, but she waved to him. "I can call in the others, send ya our specs, but you're the one in the know. Like always."

"Yes, well, with any luck this time things will go better than then that Alpha Hunt of ours," Port mused.

"What happened then?" Blake questioned.

"Everyone but us died," Celadon stated flatly.

"Five Alphas working in concert would do that," the professor mused.

"But, we handled, like, seven a couple weeks ago!" the brawler pointed out.

Pyrrha shook her head, "That was our entire freshman and sophomore classes, Yang, with professional Huntsman and time to prepare. Things would be different, if we were ambushed. After all, there would be five Alphas, but only four of us. Jaune would have to handle two, and that would be most unfair," she teased me slightly, but her point was made.

The older woman looked at us in disbelief, before she sighed. "Kids these days, right Thomas?"

"I couldn't fight an Alpha, Miss!" the tuba-er practically squeaked.

Port smiled at the boy, "Well, with any luck, you won't need to. That's what we're here for. Calliope, if you could direct us to our quarters while we wait for our foe to come to us? And with the mining, would I be amiss to assume you have adequate geological sensors?"

The dog-woman grimaced, "Right, diggers. Yeah, Pete, we'd at least have warning. Thomas, set them up in the visiting Huntsman Quarters. Give the old man the VIP one. He'll appreciate the bed."

"I'll have you know I once spent eight nights sleeping on nothing but frozen tundra while waiting for a particularly troublesome set of Cenitaurs to emerge!" Port bragged.

"But I bet you wished you'd brought a bedroll," she shot back.

The white-haired man considered that, then nodded. "True! Unfortunately it was melted by the first Cenitaur's acid when I suplexed it into a glacier, causing the avalanche I was then waiting for them to emerge from. Terribly messy things, those Cenitaurs."

Rolling her eyes, the woman stood. "I'll go tell our Mayor we've got reinforcements. I'm sure he'll want to make that announcement asap." She glanced towards Yang, "To improve morale, and tell everyone 'something'. Pete, I'll look you up after, and we'll talk more 'bout these Behemoths."

"I'll tell what I can, Calliope," the heavyset man nodded, which made the Faunus pause, sigh, and shake her head.

"Whatever you can," she agreed, striding out of the meeting room.

The rest of us stood, following Thomas out, who showed us to a hall of rooms, the door at the end visibly nicer than the others.

Even then, something… pulled at me, in an odd way I couldn't really describe, and I stopped, looking around, but there wasn't anything going on. Trying to go with the feeling, it suddenly stopped, and everything was normal again.

"Mr. Arc, a word," Port requested, heading inside the VIP quarters. I handed my backpack off to Pyrrha, who was looking to me in concern, but I shook my head, and she took it to the room that we'd share, Yang and Blake having already headed inside different rooms themselves. I followed him inside, waiting as the man closed the door behind me, then turned, regarding me for a minute, before stating, "Ozpin suggested you might have a way to contact him, in case of such a situation as this?"

Freezing, not having expected that, I slowly questioned him in turn, "He didn't give you specifics?"

The veteran huntsman shook his head. "Only that you had a way of doing so, and I wasn't to press you on it," he stated curiously.

I considered that, not exactly wanting knowledge of my ability to travel spread, but… but Oz hadn't done that, had he. He'd only revealed that, despite the blackout, I could get word back to Beacon, which was a very different thing than my being able to just go there any time I wished.

"While it would be useful, if there is some hidden cost-" our Mentor for this mission started to say, but I held up a hand, silencing the older man.

"I can, if you want to put it on your Scroll and send it to me. Also," I hesitated, but Port, Port seemed like good people. And, and I'd talked to Oz, and even Amakuni had had her reasons, even if they were stupid, unprofessional reasons, but, like Glynda, the woman was, as The Wizard had openly admitted to, like his other hires: loyal first, fighters second, and teachers third, though he hoped they could be all three. "Oz knows, and don't share it, even to the other professors, Sir," I ordered, as much as I could. "But if we need an emergency evac, I can do that for us too, and a few dozen others, but anything more than that isn't easily feasible, and I'd really rather not," I stated, looking at the man seriously.

Not only would the mass-revelation of my Domain be impossible to hide after that, but as Pyrrha and I would likely have to guide each person through, unless we made human chains or something, it just wouldn't work in the timeframe needed for a quick getaway.

The Veteran's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at my horns. "Ah, your Semblance. From what I have read, Dragons can be quite touchy with who they let near their hoards. I understand."

"That's-" I started to disagree, but paused, considering that, popping out my wings for a moment. Was that why I was so touchy?

No. While that might be a factor, with my stupid flying lizard instincts messing me up, I wanted to keep it a secret as my ability to retreat into a pocket dimension represented a truly out of context issue for any I faced, as did my way-pointing, just as much as my being an Actual Motherfucking Dragon was, in the face of a world that had never seen the like, outside of the pale imitations that some Alpha Grimm might represent.

"That's not correct, but you're not off by much," I admitted. "Like I said, it's an option, but a… let's call it one I'd rather utilize personally, and leave it at that."

Port nodded, chuffing with amusement, "I won't look a crippled Grimm in the mouth! After I meet with Calliope, I'll compile that report, and send it to you." Turning to look out the window of his room, the man smirked. "And, if it truly is a Behemoth, we shall surely have a fight worthy of recounting, young man. Though, in the retelling, I shall merely call it an 'Alpha of unparalleled ferocity', of course!"

Rolling my eyes, I nodded. "Of course. Though that's assuming that you're the one that fights it, and not me," I added with a bit of a smirk.

"Oh ho ho! Well, we shall just have to see how the Beowulf dismembers! Now, make sure you and your partner get a good night's rest," the man commanded, with a knowing look in his eye. "A bit of fun is fine, I know how the eve of combat can get the blood going, but one must take their enjoyment as the situation demands it!"

Blinking, I slowly stated with utmost eloquence, "I, uh, what?"

"Young Jaune, you are many things, but subtle is not one of them," Port remarked. "And neither is the care you and Ms. Nikos share. Why I could tell you about the three Vacuoan beauties I spent quite the enjoyable time with during a stakeout of the hunting grounds of a clew of Huludiars, but now is not the time for that! No, you should go to see to your partner, and I'll see to the lovely Ms. Celadon!"

AN: Happy New Year, and now we get to see what our Protag has been up to!