It was a quarter to noon in the icy slums of the city of Mantle: a place only habitable by the grace of God and the latest heating systems powered by a vast supply of Burn Dust, and not much kinder to its residents than that. As the great Huntsman Academy in the floating city of Atlas above their heads inaugurated another new semester of training the world's defenders in the ways of fighting evildoers and the fearsome creatures of Grimm, Mantle needed men and women possessing those skills far more than the opulent capitol that filled their sky, yet continually received second-rate help when it was fortunate enough to receive any. In the virtual absence of notable warriors for good, peace in Mantle- or at least, what passed for it- was mostly only kept by patrolling soldiers, though even a platoon was lacking next to the power of a Huntsman, and even a vast army couldn't keep eyes everywhere at once.
In one of these blind spots at just this time of day, a humble old vendor idly scraped the previous night's ice off his shop window, ignorant of the footsteps on the sidewalk approaching him until two large hands shoved him to the ground. The man tumbled with a yelp as he landed on his shoulder, gripping the sore joint as he rolled over to look at the assailant, surprised to see yet another man next to the attacker. The two thugs towered over him, one holding a pipe wrench the size of his head and tapping it into his palm in a rhythm as the other folded his arms with a smirk.
"Guess you're getting slow, old man. Maybe that's why your protection fee's late."
"I already paid you this month!" The man protested through pain.
"Oh, you old geezer! That was the fee for last month- this month's bill is due with interest."
"What? But- I gave you all I had! I can't afford that fee again so quickly!"
"Well, that's a shame, then." The thug clicked his tongue. "There's got to be something you can do. Don't you know how much you need protection?"
To support his partner's claim, the man with the pipe wrench stepped forward, swinging the wrench into his open hand more maliciously than before.
"No! Please, don't hurt me!" The man covered his head with his arms, trembling.
"Sorry, that was on the bill you didn't pay. You break your agreement with us, and we break our agreement with you... same way we break the bones of folks who double-cross us." Turning to his companion with a nod, he ordered, "Do it."
The wrench-bearer grinned sadistically as he raised his weapon, hitting flesh as he brought it down with a mighty swing- but not his intended target. Instead, his pipe wrench was stopped against the back of a feminine bronze hand, closed in a fist that stopped the improvised weapon dead in its tracks without even a hint of the momentum it had just arrested- no visible damage, and no motion except for the ticking hands on the figure's silver wristwatch. The two men's eyes traced along the arm of the newcomer, finding the rest of the body obscured by a billowing black hooded trenchcoat.
"This man doesn't need your protection," an authoritative and level voice answered from beneath the cloak. The woman turned to face the two men, eyes still obscured by the shadow of her hood, her lips betraying no emotion. "He has mine."
The attacker stepped back, drawing his wrench back and staring at the Huntress before him. "Yeah? And who are you?"
After a moment, she answered, "Your friend seems to know." The assailant turned to his friend- or rather, where his friend had been a moment ago, before turning his gaze up the street to see his comrade running at a full sprint, desperate to escape the situation. The Huntress continued, "Seems to me he's the brains of the operation?" As the lone man started to tremble, she concluded, "When you catch up with him, tell him this: Never let me see the two of you harming anyone ever again." On cue, the man stumbled into a sprint, running after his companion and leaving the woman alone with the old vendor, who had managed to pull himself up to a sitting position on the sidewalk. She turned to him with an outstretched hand, which he took hold of as she pulled him to his feet.
"I can't thank you enough for saving me, but I'm afraid I don't have the money for a more expensive protection fee."
The Huntress smiled. "The only fee I charge is doing a good turn daily, sir. I know how these folks operate- they won't bother you again. Time will only tell if they bother anyone again- I just hope I've scared them straight."
The man smiled warmly. "Thank you. Please, join me in the store- anything you want is yours."
"I'm afraid I'll have to pass- I need to get to Atlas Academy as fast as I can."
"Then go, and stop by whenever you like." The man nodded. Returning the gesture, the Huntress leaped into the air, vanishing from the man's sight in an instant, and he realized only in that moment he'd never gotten his savior's name.
Redemption was a long, hard road, but Melantha Aulnoy- Huntress and Contract Investigator, the woman who could walk through hell and not get burned- had no higher calling or greater desire. In spite of her legendary power, Melantha was careful never to take such pride in her abilities or her goodness as to refuse any opportunity to help people, and today would be no exception after she had gotten the call from her old weaponsmithing teacher for assistance with the latest crop of First-Year students. While Melantha's own weapon, Reticent Tempest, wasn't the most original design- she had the basic shape and functions directly lifted from the signature weapon of her idol, Qrow Branwen- the old professor knew Melantha's top-notch mind would be able to instantly notice any weak points in the bright-eyed students' first designs, and that her status as a powerful warrior would incline even the more prideful students to listen to her counterpoints.
Melantha checked her silver wristwatch again as she walked briskly through the ornate blue hallways of her old academy. Not only did she intend to be punctual- which, at her current pace, would be no issue- but the watch itself was a graduation gift from her father which she wanted to make use of at every possible opportunity. It wasn't the flashiest present, but a functional one from the man who had saved her life and changed her for the better- she owed it to him to at least use it instead of her scroll. Arriving at the classroom with ten minutes to spare, Melantha flashed a smile at Professor Bednar, who looked up from his busy work for a moment to smile back. Partly out of her detective habits and partly out of nostalgia, Melantha meandered throughout the room, observing the tiny details- a chip in one desk from when a hammer had missed its mark, traces of soot on bricks deemed "undamaged" after some Dust had been mishandled and the elemental powers of the fragile crystals caused a small explosion. As the students began taking their seats, Melantha took one in the back of the room right where she always had until her graduation just last year, this time as a guest of honor rather than a lonely overachiever, yet still with something to prove: not the girl she was before, never again, but not quite yet the woman she wanted to be.
Some of the students, aware of her reputation born of her abilities and her past, whispered among themselves about the huntress in the room with them. Others, unfamiliar with who she was, instead spoke of her outfit: it was her usual attire, a deep-collared sleeveless cream vest worn over a low-cut black shirt that exposed her sun-kissed bronze skin over her chest and all along her lean, muscular arms. The look was completed with black leggings and knee-high boots, with her emblem in yellow on the left boot and a silver anklet adorning the right. A black scrunchie covered her right wrist to match the silver wristwatch on the left, and her long, hooded black trenchcoat was buttoned at the neck, worn like a cape. Her deep brown almond-shaped eyes were framed by black glasses perched atop her modest nose and full lips, and two synthetic flowers- one purple and one yellow- sat in her fluffy, bouncy black bob. All in all, it was the style of a Huntress and Contract Investigator with some of Melantha's own personal feminine flair. Melantha appreciated what was being said, and it helped her to relax as class time approached and eventually arrived.
"You've all heard this before, and you'll hear it a hundred times: a Huntsman's weapon is no ordinary tool. It is an extension of the Huntsman- their nature, their goals, their abilities. Today, you will all work to either refine your current weapons, or to design a new weapon to accompany you on this great undertaking of becoming a defender of the people. You will all be able to discuss and work with each other, but we also have a special guest here to help you identify potential challenges and pitfalls with your designs and to suggest functions which you may have overlooked. That special guest is none other than Melantha Aulnoy, who graduated last year at the top of the sparring class: if anyone knows weapons inside and out, it's her." The professor smiled at Melantha. "Is there anything you want to say before we begin?"
Melantha stood and folded her arms. "I'd like to reiterate what you said," Melantha turned her head as she addressed the class. "These weapons are meant to be extensions of yourselves. You're going to spend the next four years becoming intimately familiar with them, and the rest of your careers using them to fight the forces of evil and protect the innocent. We're going to try to make them as effective as they can be, but the more important thing is that they're yours. Now, let's get to work."
Professor Bednar nodded. "You heard her, class- I'll be here too, so you can come to me while she's helping somebody else."
The excited students brought up various holograms and pencil sketches of weapons-to-be, and the ones who lacked such reference material got straight to work making it. Melantha stood up and began to wander over to various tables, expecting some of the things that happened every year: some students dreaming too big, others too small. Some would be hell-bent on utilizing every sort of Dust known to man to wield all of the forces of nature at once, and some would forget its existence until reminded. Some designs had been dreamed of for years, while others would be dreamed up on the spot. One or two defiant students would refuse to utilize any weapon at all, insisting their hand-to-hand prowess would carry them through a long and decorated career as a Huntsman, and one or two others would have the novel idea of using a broad arsenal of weapons rather than a single personalized instrument. What was less normal was the single boy who seemed to be taking note of every other student's weapon, and very little note for his own. Melantha approached the young man.
"What are you up to?" She asked warmly. "You seem interested in everyone else's weapons, but you've hardly got anything for your own so far. Looking for inspiration?"
The boy looked at her briefly before flicking his glance back to his work and gesturing with his finger for her to come closer. As she did so, he whispered. "I'm looking for weaknesses, so I can make a counter to everyone. If I make something that can beat every weapon here, then I'll be at the top of the sparring class and have a counter for most weapons out in the wild."
Melantha smiled slyly at the boy's idea. "Maybe. What's your name?"
"Chestnut Barkley. How do you beat Electric Dust?"
"Personally, I use a magnetic field, but most people just use insulating handles."
"Your Semblance makes magnetic fields?"
"Nope, anyone can do it: Gravity Dust plus Electric, the electricity gets rerouted around you, and both Dust types have plenty of other uses to justify their inclusion in any weapon."
Chestnut scribbled down some notes. "Thanks. You can get to helping the others for a bit: I'll keep working out the rest on my own."
Melantha nodded and moved on to the next table, but her mind kept wandering to Chestnut and his design philosophy. It reminded her of her own design process in modifying Qrow Branwen's original weapon into what suited her for Reticent Tempest, and she wondered if he too was trying to become the strongest to compensate for something.
"What I want to know is, why do you even need a melee weapon? Guns work just fine at point-blank, don't they?" One female student asked within earshot of Melantha, and the Huntress turned with a smile.
"Would you believe me if I said you can probably hit harder than a bullet?"
"Not a chance!"
"Well, it's true: you get a melee weapon to act as a lever, and then amplify your strength with your Aura, and suddenly, your gun's outclassed in close range." Melantha addressed her next remark to the whole class. "Sometimes, people forget that Aura isn't just a barrier that protects us from damage: it enhances our speed and reaction times, bolsters our strength, and augments our senses to better detect the world around us. With the power of our own souls, we can hit harder than any firearm, and withstand any bullet. Guns and other long-range weapons can be fine against Grimm, and for long-range poke damage to close the distance or force your enemy to engage, but they shouldn't be your primary means of damage unless you've got something really special in mind. Start with the melee weapon first, and then add a gun or ranged weapon to it: that's my philosophy."
For the rest of the hour, the students continued to refine their ideas with Melantha's guidance, with Melantha pointing out potential issues and offering suggestions but making sure to let the Huntsmen-in-training create weapons that best suited themselves and their styles. While some of the weapons could be forged quickly with prefabricated parts, others were much more intricate and required the rest of the afternoon to create to specification. Chestnut's weapons appeared to be a sword breaker combined with a large-frame revolver and a shield with ridges and storage for Dust, and the various weapons that now filled the classroom were similarly creative.
As the students all excitedly placed their weapons in their lockers, Professor Bednar offered his hand to Melantha. "You were a great help today- I missed having you in my class."
Melantha shook his hand. "You can call me any time, sir."
The teacher smiled. "Same time next year, then, unless something else comes up."
"I look forward to it." As Melantha left, she watched the excited students, including Chestnut, who stared at the two weapons in his hands- and the other students' lockers- with a smile.
Melantha certainly didn't expect a call from Professor Bednar that very evening, especially not one with the tone she was hearing- the man sounded distraught and fearful, his shaky voice barely carrying over the scroll yet simultaneously seeming to Melantha to fill her apartment in an overflow of emotion.
"Melantha! I-it's the weapons! All of the weapons!"
"What about the weapons, professor?" Melantha asked in a tone that sought to reassure the man without downplaying his concern.
"They're gone, they're all gone! All the lockers got opened, and their weapons are all gone!"
Melantha was shocked by the news but made no sound that would further alarm the old professor: instead, she steeled her gaze and balled her fist. "I'm on my way."
The detective hung up the call and threw open the window, grabbing her signature weapon and leaping out onto the fire escape. As she placed the folded weapon on the small of her back, her trenchcoat glowed a soft purple as the Gravity Dust woven within pulled down the window behind her. It activated again as she leaped into the air, spreading the trenchcoat like a glider as she flew through the icy Atlesian sky straight towards Atlas Academy.
The flight wasn't too long, but it was just long enough for Melantha to lose herself in her thoughts- thinking about something other than the case at hand meant she wouldn't arrive with any preconceived notions and could follow the evidence where it led her rather than seeking vindication. She thought of her old Academy team who, while they had respected her as their ace combatant, had never truly trusted her intentions at the school, and who had all split to walk their own roads after graduation. Part of Melantha wished she had at least one of them as a reliable partner for cases like this, but none of them had her same detective training nor remotely her combat ability. She could only hope they weren't envious, but none of them seemed to want to contact her- though she supposed that was fair, given the derision she had received from other students seemed to also be targeted towards them by extension. She of all people wouldn't and couldn't demand their forgiveness, but she most certainly wished for it. As she approached the academy, Melantha elected to put her reminiscing aside- it had served its purpose, and there would be time later.
As she arrived, she found the hallway with the lockers taped off as police urged the students to back away. Several of the students were outraged, and yet others were inconsolable at the loss of their hard and highly personalized work. Melantha stepped under the tape and approached one of the officers- she had no intention of letting these students down, and she was going to get right to work.
"Who's first reporting?"
"That'd be me- I was on duty at the school bank, I came as soon as I heard."
"But you didn't know it happened until you got the call?"
"Yes, ma'am. It was a quiet job- a clean one, too. See for yourself."
Melantha approached the lockers and inspected the locks, wiping away small water droplets with her scrunchie. "No physical damage- they had to have hacked the keypads, or disabled the lock mechanism somehow." She turned to the nearest officer. "Did the cameras catch anything?"
"No ma'am- they saw one kid take his, but then some kind of smoke bomb obscured visibility."
"Not smoke- steam." Melantha corrected, pointing to the remaining water droplets. "There's condensation on some of the lockers. That widens our search to anyone who has Steam Dust, or who can mix and match. What kind of weapon was taken from the locker before the robbery?"
"It looked like a sword and shield, but I wasn't paying too much attention- these Huntsman weapons are always too complicated, but I'll get another look for you. I think the shield had some Dust in it, though."
Melantha folded her arms."I helped the class make these weapons earlier today. If you can get me the specifics, I can figure out exactly whose it is. I'll also need a description of the person who took it out of the locker- it could be that that weapon was stolen first, and then the culprit used the steam to cover the rest."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll head back to security and get a good look."
As the officer left, Melantha continued looking around the lockers, the sound of students- angry, confused, and sorrowful- filling the air around her as she found every locker empty, with no fingerprints to find. Whoever did this, they're good- but they're going to regret this when I find them.
As she waited for the descriptions from the officer, Melantha thought about how the keypads could have been hacked, especially without contact. Magnets could have been used to slide open the locking mechanism itself or to mess with the keypad, and wouldn't need any contact- just a close-range pulse. Her eyes widened at the realization. A sword and a shield with Dust. Magnetism. Oh, Chestnut, you didn't...
Her scroll buzzed, and she answered immediately. "Go ahead."
"Got another look at the footage. The sword's got spikes on the blade, big enough grooves to catch another weapon. Looks like it has a revolver chamber in the bottom half of the blade, and the shield has ridges, especially on the top, bottom, and sides. The boy grabbing it had brown hair, jacket same color, with green pants and white shoes."
"So it's a revolver-swordbreaker and a shield with Dust, and the P.O.I. is a young brown-haired male?"
"Yes, ma'am. Does that sound like the owner?"
Melantha sighed. "Yes, it does. It looks like he and I are going to have to have a talk." She hated to suspect the boy- he'd been so proud of his weapon- but the sum of the evidence so far pointed straight to him.
"Good luck, ma'am. The boys and I'll try to calm down the students."
"Thank you." Melantha ended the call and took a deep breath.
She had to find Chestnut.
Accessing Atlas files, Melantha was able to identify Chestnut's student team, and temporarily add herself to the team's roster system to access the scroll mapping. He was on the move to a sleazy sector of Mantle, but with her Gravity Cloak she was able to quickly catch up to him. She watched from distant shadows as he hefted multiple containers through the streets, trailing him until he finally ended up in a run-down alleyway. It was the sort of place no woman would want to find herself in the witching hour, and even Chestnut himself seemed slightly fearful of the place as he set down the two containers and opened them. Sure enough, all of the stolen weapons lay within, packed tight to the point of nearly bursting, yet Chestnut didn't stick around- he grabbed his own weapon, found a pile of garbage, and hid himself as Melantha observed from the rooftops.
Who hides from a business deal? Leaving the weapons in the open like that... is he setting a trap?
After a while, a handful of vagrants appeared in the alleyway, stumbling across the pile of weapons. They were the sorts of people Melantha had grown up all too familiar with: impulsive, selfish, opportunistic vultures, but she had changed for the better and she wouldn't deny any of them that opportunity tonight.
"Whoa, what's all this?" One of the younger members of the group remarked.
"Looks like somebody left their score behind," answered another. "Normally I wouldn't be a buzzard, but this kind of firepower's gonna be good news for the grove- check it out, they've got Dust 'n everything!"
As the gang started sifting through the weapons, picking out their personal favorites, Melantha could just barely see Chestnut in his hiding place, finding in himself the determination to reveal himself to the lot. When he was finally ready, just as the last of the gangsters had taken what was left of the weapons, he forcefully burst out of the pile of garbage, a smug smile on his face.
"You think those weapons make you tough?" He announced. "You're all gonna go to jail when I'm done with you."
Melantha's eyes widened. So that was his play the whole time. Make a weapon to beat the other weapons, give the other weapons to criminals, beat the criminals after framing them for the crime, and suddenly he's the hero of the class. Melantha decided to bide her time: she obviously wasn't going to let the scheme work, but something told her she wouldn't need to stop it herself, though she would have to make sure the boy didn't die for this.
The gangsters were surprised by the sudden arrival but had no fear for the teenager despite his bravado. "Boys, we missed one- whoever kills him gets to keep the shield, but his sword's mine!"
As the gangsters rushed towards him, the red and blue crystals in Chestnut's shield glowed, and with the combined Fire and Water Dust, a cloud of steam filled the alleyway- Melantha had to sense the boy's Aura to keep track of him as he ran throughout the area, striking at each gangster before slinking into the mist. The sound of weapons meeting his shield was matched in repetition only by the sound of his weapon meeting gangsters and their weapons. Melantha could see one of the gangsters activating Electric Dust and blasting it towards him, but Chestnut knew exactly what to do: activating Gravity and Electric Dust in his shield, the lightning warped around him from the magnetic field, and he used the Gravity Dust further to propel himself into the gangster and send him stumbling backward. However, the boy's fortune quickly began to change: while he may have been stronger than each gangster individually, the numbers were starting to take a toll on his endurance, and soon he was missing his blocks and being hit by the stolen weapons. He persisted until the leader of the group used the weapon he had taken- a Dust-powered trumpet- to blast Chestnut with sonic waves that sent him into the brick wall, damaging the structure as his Aura flickered and broke.
"Bold move to try and trap us, but you're no Huntsman yet- with these weapons, there's no way you could stop us, and with you gone, neither can anybody else."
One of the lesser criminals stepped forward with a large executioner's axe, bringing the weapon over his head as he marched up to Chestnut, who was still on the ground reeling from the sonic attack. He shut his eyes, expecting to meet his end as the criminal brought the mighty blade down- but instead, he heard the sound of two weapons clashing. Opening his eyes, he beheld Melantha Aulnoy towering over him, holding her large sword on her shoulders behind her head. The shadow of her hood mostly obscured her face, but he could tell she wasn't happy to see him. As Melantha turned around, the massive sword on her shoulders turned with her, and the mere force of her about-face sent the attacker sprawling across the alley. The gangsters froze at the new arrival, standing nearly motionless as her trenchcoat billowed in the icy winds, her weapon set to her side for all to see its striking resemblance to the iconic Harbinger, as well as its notable distinction in the floral pattern of Gravity Dust along the broad side and the Electric Dust along the blunt edge.
"Drop the weapons." The Huntress barked with a venomous tone. "Each and every one of you is under arrest- don't make things worse for yourselves."
Some of the criminals complied immediately, dropping their weapons as they fell to the ground in fear, but others held their ground.
"So we got two of you tryin' to play hero- doesn't matter! Light her up!"
The ones who remained with guns in hand opened fire, but Melantha effortlessly blocked every bullet as she spun Reticent Tempest in her hand in front of her. The boss raised his trumpet to his lips, but instantly, she was behind the man with her sword raised above him, and she brought it down with enough force to break the man's Aura in a single swing, cracking the asphalt beneath him. The others tried to run, but her Aura-boosted speed combined with pulses of Gravity Dust from her cloak allowed her to cross the alleyway in the blink of an eye as she kicked, backhanded, and occasionally slashed each of the vagrants with her sword until the last had collapsed to the ground. Her work complete, with every gangster beaten and not a single one dead, Reticent Tempest folded into its carriable form and Melantha placed it against her lower back, under her trenchcoat. As Chestnut finally gathered the strength to stand, Melantha turned towards him and raised her hood, revealing her eyes filled with such righteous fury that he almost fell right down again, his weapons shaking in his hands.
"I'm sorry! I didn't- I thought- I was gonna give them all back, no harm done!"
"That doesn't matter." She rebuked the teen. "Creating a problem just to solve it doesn't make you a hero- and if I hadn't been here, you would have died trying to make your scheme work."
"I know, it was stupid, I see that now!" The boy seemed on the verge of tears. "But... you're right. I made a mess, and I did something wrong. If you're going to arrest me, I... I understand. I just... I wanted to be a hero. Not just any old student, I wanted to be somebody."
"I felt the same way when I was your age." Melantha answered after a moment of hesitation, her icy tone melting away as she looked around at the defeated gangsters with pity. "From the time I was fourteen, I made it my life's mission to be the greatest force for good the world had ever seen, and I did everything I could to be exactly that." Melantha glared at Chestnut again. "This isn't the way. But I have a feeling you won't ever be stupid enough to do something like this again. I'm not going to arrest you- but you need to do a lot better. If you want to be the best, do it to make up for what you did today. The road to redemption is long, but it's worth it- trust me."
Chestnut nodded, unable to force any words to his lips as the police arrived to take away the gangsters and collect the stolen weapons.
Back at the academy, the first-years were elated to have their weapons returned to them, and as celebrations erupted among the students, Professor Bednar approached the Huntress and Contract Investigator.
"You'll never cease to amaze me," the old professor remarked. "But I hope next year, I only need to call you once."
Melantha answered with a smile. "You know me, sir. If you ever need anything, I'm ready." With a nod, she added, "Always."