"Mom, can I come with this time?" Blake turned away from the door. She had been about to head out on her assignment when her son Max grabbed onto her arm. The ten year olds messy black hair did little to hide his light brown eyes. His cat ears on his head twitched as he listened for his father.

"Has your dad rated you for battle yet?" She asked, fully knowing the answer. John was a good teacher, but he preferred to take the slow route to make sure that the answer would remain no for a long time.

"No." The little boy admitted. "But he says that I am a natural." He then added hopefully.

"Oh? And that means you can master the art without any effort now does it?" John popped into existence directly behind his son, an amused look in his eyes. And when he popped into existence, he truly did come out of thin air.

"D-dad." Max stuttered, looking up at him. John stood at 6'9, almost seven feet tall. He had brown eyes and black hair, just like his son. He was extremely skinny, and it didn't help that he preferred to wear baggy shirts.

"You need a hair cut, little man." John said, ruffling up his hair. Max pushed him off, puffing out his chest in an attempt to look bigger.

"I'm grown up now. I want to go with mom on a mission." Max said confidently. In response, his fathers hand shot out and poked him in the chest, applying just enough force to nock him down.

"Max, as a high ranking hunter myself, I can tell you now that grim way harder than that." John knelt down in front of the boy, looking into his eyes. "I don't want you to go down because I allowed you to go." Max nodded, understanding what he was saying.

"I'll take you with me when you're ready." Blake said, clasping her hand on his shoulder and beaming proudly at her son. Max stepped back, allowing his mom to open the door. John and Blake nodded to each other, information passing silently between them. Blake waved as she walked out the door, calling behind her. "I'll be back in a few days. Watch your sister for me."

The door closed, and that was the last he ever saw of his mother.

.(time skip)

Max was knocked into the dirt, his stick flipping through the air and landing next to him. "Get up." John ordered. The thirteen year old got back to his feet, glaring at his father. "Unless you're injured, you have no reason to stay down."

"Easy for you to say." Max muttered darkly. "You never lose. I'm pretty sure that's why mom left." John's eyes darkened, an unusual look of doubt flashing in them. Max rushed forward and began his assault, slashing and stabbing with his stick. John effortlessly mocked each strike away from him, his black sword midnight moving into the required position as if it had its own mind.

John struck Max in the chest with an open palm strike, nocking him down again. "Get up." He ordered, moving back to his starting position.

"No. I'm done." Max spat. He threw away his stick and got to his feet. "There's no point in losing constantly." He turned to walk into the house, but his father materialized in front of the door.

"If there was no point, I would have let you win by now." His arms were crossed, his sword having disappeared. "Tell me, are you as slow as you were three years ago? Are you as clumsy or uncoordinated?"

"Of course not!" Max shouted angrily. "But what point is it if I still can't win?" His father frowned, disappointed in the boys answer. He shot his hand out to the side, his sword appearing in his hand. He spun it a few times before planting it in the ground.

"Pull it out. Then you can go inside." He backed away and leaned against the door, watching his son with the eyes of a hawk. Max walked forward and yanked the weapon out of the ground, staggering under its weight. John let out a sigh and the blade disappeared. He moved aside letting the disgruntled teen walk past him.

"He got the stubbornness from you, you know." John tilted his head to the side, looking at Angela. His daughter had long brunette hair, her ears light orange. Combined with the golden eyes, she reminded him a lot of her mother. "I know why you make him draw that sword each day."

"Oh?"

"That sword isn't a normal sword. It's alive, and it chooses its wielder." She stated walking over to him. There was an intelligent sparkle in her eyes, reminding him of Dumbledore. "You designed it that way when you came through."

"And how would you know about that?" John was impressed by her knowledge. Very few people even knew that he didn't belong in Remnant. Angela didn't answer him, instead a series of his memories were forcefully played in his head. Once they finished, a shadow appeared in her hand and his sword came into existence again.

"Your semblance is Specter, rather appropriate since you died in your work and came here. It gives you the ability of a ghost, walking through walls, temporarily weightlessness, shadow manipulation, and telepathy to name a few." She listed off the facts like she knew them her whole life.

"Ok, smart one. Do you mean to tell me that you have my semblance?" The teen girl nodded, he knowing eyes glossing over. John's expression soften and he pulled her in for a hug. Even though she was so close to the edge, not a single tear fell. "How much did you see?" He asked softly.

"All of it." She sobbed softly. She held her tears in, but John could feel the sadness wafting off of her. "If you loved her that much, why didn't you go after her?" John began rocking back and forth, adding a comforting pressure.

"Because she would have beat the shit out of me if I abandoned you two." He said softly, putting a kiss on the top of her head. He held her for a few more minutes, before he released her. Angela's eyes were dry now, no sign of sadness left in them. Just like her mother. Just like Carmon. His thoughts turned to his long dead sister, before she went evil. He chuckled slightly to himself, remembering when she taught him just as he was teaching his son.

"Come. What do you want for dinner." He said while entering the house, his mind clearing as unwelcome thoughts began to form. And get out of my head. It's a two way link, you know.

(fast forward a few hours)

Max laid in his bed, anger and frustration over his recent losses weighing heavily on his mind. And I thought today would be the day! So much for being able to go look for mom. His father had told him he could go as soon as he could win, and it felt like his whole life was just out of his reach.

Slowly, the teen drifted to sleep, dreaming of being with his mother again. In his dream, his dad hadn't stopped him that day and he had gone with. It was a recovery mission, and they traveled to a town a long way away from home. They then proceed to head to a mountain region to gather some herbs that we're need to make medicine, fighting grim along the way. Half way through collecting the plants, an explosion shook the mountain nocking him off his feet. In a daze, he looked for his mom, but she was nowhere to be found. He got to his feet, but another explosion brought him back to his knees.

"Get up." Max looked up at his father, confusion and anger in his eyes. "Unless you're injured, you have no reason to be down." Max just glared at him.

"You made her go away again." He said darkly, hatred boiling inside him. "Why do you hate her so much?"

John opened his mouth again, but this time his sister's voice came out. "For god sake, get up. We need to run." The world shook violently, more explosions going off. A sudden pain in the side of the head brought him out of his dream. Max sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. His sister stood next to his bed, her fist raised to hit him again. A strange glow filled the room, the light moving in a swaying motion. Plus, it was really hot.

Max opened his mouth to speak but an explosion shook the building, bits of ceiling falling down. "Get your but out of bed and run!" His sister grabbed his arm and ran, dragging him until he could get his feet under him. They ran across the street and to their neighbors house, where they took cover behind one of the corners. The sight of their home caused terror to strike Max's heart.

Their house was on fire. Shadows dashed around, white blurs chasing one blue and black figure. Every time they met, there was a series of loud metallic noises and the white one would fall down, often covered in red. "Is that..."

"Dad's fighting right now." Angela said, not removing her eyes from the combatants. Their father stopped moving for a second, and three gunshot rang out. Three explosions engulfed their targets, not even giving them time to scream. The teens watched as the fight raged on, a seemingly endless supply of enemies attacking their father. They watched in awe and fear as the destruction reached its peak, men dropping like flies.

An arm wrapped itself around Max's throat, choking him. He looked over to Angela, who was in the same predicament. "Stop fighting!" A voice behind him yelled. "Stop fighting! I have your kids!" His words were in vein, however, as John ran the last grunt through with Midnight. He straightened up and glared at the man.

A tall, red haired man in a hawk mask walked past them. He was dressed in black, a thin sword was buckled to his waist. John's eyes darkened at the sight of him, fury burning just as brightly as the house. He disappeared, only to show up directly in front of the man. "What are you doing here?" He growled.

"The question is, why didn't you come for Blake?" John's eyes widened, but only briefly. His hand shot out to grab the man, who dodged backwards.

"What did you do to her?" Both of them reached for their swords, John pausing when he saw the man mirror his actions. He never paused. The man smirked at this.

"How about you come with me and find out." He said darkly. "Or I can kill these two abominations behind me." They held their positions for a whole minute as John tried to work out how to approach this challenge. Finally, he returned his weapon to his shadow. "Let's go."

The men holding the teens let go and Max fell to the ground coughing. Then a sudden force in the back of his head knocked him out cold.