Hey everyone, welcome back to a new chapter of The Darkling Thrush!

This chapter took longer to write than I wanted to. Because it kept getting longer. I just wanted to write maybe a 5000 word chapter average so I could get this arc out within a timely manner. Turns out I can't even do that. It needs to be almost twice that length on the finished chapter, but believe me, there are things that I cut and left in drafts.

As always, I want to thank everyone who left a review last chapter! I think we all can agree that it's nice to hear what people think about one's work, it literally drives and motivates people and you don;t even have to do it, but you guys did! So Thank You! You're amazing!

D. , I'm trying to get a better schedule going, I can't guarantee how things will be come August of this year, but for the time being I'm trying to get a chapter out maybe once a week. Maybe. I hope this helps.

moistlemon, Thanks! It's good to be back writing that isn't entirely academic. It's great. Less anxiety. Thank You!

Hellbreaker! IDW Megatron is the best! I'm glad you drew that parallel because that's one of the inspirations for The Iron Nail's revolutionary persona/background. Kudos, good sir.

jin0uga! I hear that, I don't want to rag on the show too much, but I too have been disillusioned over the past volumes. But, thanks for the kind words.

Baoh joestar, the boys are back, plus a few extras along for the ride. Thanks for sticking with this story!

Notes at the bottom of the chapter! On with the chapter!

LVII

Days Gone Bye: Part 2

The continent of Sanus was one of five primary land masses within the world of Remnant. It alone housed two out of four of the major world powers, the kingdoms of Vale and Vacuo. Located somewhere on either side of the continent were those kingdom's capitals. Somehow along the course of the Great War eighty years ago, the kingdoms had drawn up a dividing line that would serve as the buffer between each side in an attempt to ease the tensions that pervaded since before the days of war. Somehow after interrogation, the latest wannabe terrorist had given up a relative location for the White Fang's base of operations on the continent, somewhere around that premium buffer zone. For Russel and those lucky few assigned the job to tear the joint down around the White Fang, the only issue was the considerable distance between the safe zone and the buffer.

Thankfully, considering the severity of the mission, those within the Huntsman upper echelons had seen fit to provide Russel and his cohorts something more substantial than a couple of horses.

Somehow, in the wake of the fall of Vale, an Atlesian Dropship had made its way into the modest collection of modes of transportation available to the Huntsmen of Vale. One fresh coat of paint later and it was flying with a pair of green crossed axes. Just as it should be as far as Russel was concerned.

However, given the importance of the assignment, full assault compliment of Huntsmen had been assembled for the job. Now, while an Atlesian Dropship could hold up to forty of their Knights at any given time, the robots had the benefit of folding into themselves to maximize the space available. For the sixteen Huntsmen crammed into the back of the ship, though, they couldn't say they possessed the same benefit.

"Whoever has their hand on my ass needs to move it. Now." The Thrush announced with an irritated growl.

"Uh, sorry Russel."

"Goddamit Dove."

The three-hour flight from dust off to destination was unbearable for all parties.

But Sanus was a continent comprised of dense forests and desert. Vale just so happened to be on the side of the dividing line that had the most forest. Ultimately, that meant their approach would not begin with a clearing for the dropship to land in. It meant that the assembled Huntsmen would have to jump for it and cover the rest of the distance on foot.

"Last one down's a rotten egg!" Dove shouted, eagerly leaping from the dropship and taking flight.

"Show off." Cardin cracked a smile before following suit.

One by one the team dropped, using all sorts of methods to nail that landing strategy of theirs. Which was aces as far as Russel was concerned, they'd all had enough practice by now to get it right.

Hitting the ground into a roll, Russel took stock of the surrounding forest. Unsurprisingly, what he saw was a lot of green and brown with a dash of sky blue. Surveying the area further, there appeared to be no sign of activity, no wild animals nor Grimm, he turned back around to take into account who comprised the rest of his team.

Much had happened in the time from the Vytal Festival and now. While Vacuo and Atlas had sent envoys to retrieve their people stranded in Vale during the fall, Mistral had been unresponsive. Attempts to reach out to the country through representatives and messengers had proved pointless. Mistral had essentially closed its doors to Vale, washing its hands of the bloody night and abandoning their citizens. To say the students of Haven felt betrayed would be a huge understatement of their feelings.

Cut off from friends and family, with the people in authority refusing to come and rescue them, it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under them. They were in free fall, doing what they could to survive in world of Remnant, now that the kingdom they'd grown up believing that would have their backs at the end of the world and vice versa was no longer returning their calls. With their fates uncertain, the ordinary citizens with no fighting experience jumped at the chance for asylum once offered. The students of Haven were offered the same deal, except there was a catch: them joining ranks of Vale's Huntsmen.

Many brows were raised at the idea once Goodwitch tossed it around. But there were already so many dead amongst the Huntsmen ranks, even with the additions made by the recruitment of Beacon's students there were still roles that needed to be filled. With all other seats of Vale's council sitting vacant and Ozpin presumed dead in the attack, there was no one to shoot down the proposal. And in one fell swoop, the Huntsmen of Vale's were bolstered with fresh bodies and the former students of Haven had structure.

Of the sixteen strong Huntsman team, there were a total of seven former Haven students amongst their ranks. During the Vytal Festival as well as during the fall of Vale, those particular students had bonded with a number of the Beacon students, having sweated and bled on the world stage and in the battlefield that fateful night. But Russel was not one of those few who'd had the pleasure of prior association. Those seven students were as foreign to him as he was no doubt to them.

The members of Team ABRN in their entirety had been assigned to their rag tag group of misfits. Arslan Atlan, their team leader, was a gutsy martial artist who used her fists in combat. She also had a rope dart that helped when it came to reeling enemies in closer so she could punch them. She also had a neat little trick where she could manifest fire in her palms. Whether or not that was her semblance was still to be determined. An honestly, Russel was a smidge too intimidated to ask. Bolin Hori had never exactly stood out to Russel during staff meetings. He'd often stand at the back of the room in some corner. There was an air of superiority to him in how he handled himself. Reese Chloris rode a hoverboard that turned into a pair of guns with knives at the ends of them. She does sick kickflips and shoots Grimm in the face while she stabs them. So that was neat. Lastly, there was Nadir Shiko the living embodiment of a participation ribbon. At the very least Russel knew he was trying his best.

The final three Haven students were from Team SSSN. Scarlet David was a redhead who styled himself like a pirate. He had a flintlock and cutlass combo going for him. After him with a mighty broadsword was Sage Ayana. Laid back but reserved, he wasn't the easiest person to start a conversation with. Finally, Neptune Vasilias, probably the most versatile member of the assembled group of Huntsmen. In the brief time Russel had known him, Neptune had exhibited knowledge about engineering and the sciences. He knew how to fly an airship, pilot a mech and was the only one he knew who could pull off the goggles look. Rumor had it Neptune was also instrumental in getting the power turned back on. So, while he wasn't exactly sure where he stood in terms of the guy's personality, the Thrush had learned to appreciate him and his skills.

Aside from the Mistralian Huntsmen and the rest of Team CRDL, there were five others hailing from Vale. Unsurprising, Danny Matchstick and Marie-Anne Cherri had wound up on the team. After the loss of half their team during the fall, the two had been in limbo. But after Venezier, Goodwitch or someone else with the authority to do so had arranged they operate alongside CRDL. Danny was alright as a field team leader, but Russel had rather follow Cardin over the DNCE leader any day. Then there was his still tense relationship with Marie-Anne. Though it was more one sided these days, it did trouble Russel that if push came to shove, she might not have his best interests in mind.

The final three members of their mashed together group of Huntsmen consisted of individuals from Beacon who'd lost their entire team sometime between the fall and now. Marble Ellsworth hailed from the ill-fated Team HAZE. Supposedly the pair of off-color swords he carried belonged to his fellow teammates who died that night. Unofficially, they were his swords he'd given a bad dye job. Hedge Kovalic had been apart of the poorly named Team SHTT. Either Ozpin had been ignorant of the possible pronunciation, or the missing Headmaster possessed a sick sense of humor. The later was more likely than the former. Regardless, Hedge was probably glad he didn't have to go around being apart of that team anymore, despite the unfortunate circumstances.

Lastly, to round out the motley crew was Willa Rosa of Team WILL. After the fall she'd aided her teammate Lance Grimsby in stoking tensions amongst the stranded communities and that of the resident Valians. While Lance had…died under mysterious circumstances, knowledge of Willa's involvement had been known only to a select few including Russel. Goodwitch had been tempted to rescind her invitation to join the other students as full-fledged Huntsmen. But they needed the people and if no one in the know went spreading around word that Willa had helped fabricate the tensions six months back, then no one was going to throw a fit about it. However, it certainly didn't make anything less awkward between them, which was a shame, because before the Fall she'd used to be a regular whenever CRDL orchestrated a card night.

So that was the team. A bunch of people who'd never intentionally associate with the other, thrown together with the common purpose of doing their part to defend Vale. They also had the commonality of having to follow the lead of the same guy.

Lieutenant Cardin Winchester, as he was now formally referred to at staff meetings, signaled to the dropship pilot that the landing had been a success. Without a word from the pilot, the dropship closed its doors and took off back to the safe zone.

"Alright. Mission start." Cardin said before turning to the rest of CRDL. "Dove, you're in the air. I want warning before anything can come at us from above. Sky, take the rear and watch our backs. Nothing gets the drop on us. Russel, I want you up ahead on point. If there's danger then I want notice."

The CRDL boys simply nodded at their leader. By far the collective trio had the most experience working with Cardin and his own brand of leadership. They voiced no qualms with his orders, having become accustomed to the assignments as they played to their strengths. Without a word, Dove took off into the air to hover above the team and Russel jogged forward, getting a head start on the others. Sky, however, remained still preparing to trail the rest of the group upon departure.

Turning to face the remaining members of the team, Cardin gestured after Russel. "You know the drill. Let's move."

With that settled, the operation had officially begun. Out there somewhere between where they were no and the no man's land were a bunch of White Fang sitting around plotting acts of terror. Their job was to kick the door in and break their foothold in the kingdom.

Russel had no qualms with being tip of the spear. The idea was sound in his mind seeing as of the collective group of Huntsmen he'd spent the most time being around one. It happened to be one of the few perks of his growing up in Oakwood surrounded by farmland and deep forest. When he was a child he'd get lost in it for hours a day. It was arguable that some of his most important moments in his life happened in Oakwood's forest.

Off the top of his head, he could count the encounter with the Ursa in his childhood as the most prominent. He'd been a kid, a real dumb kid who'd just broken into his dad's safe to nab his mother's pocketknife. He ran into the woods that day and started carving his name into a tree. The tree branch he'd been standing on gave way, the next thig he knew he'd been on the ground face to face with a Grimm of nightmare.

Since that day onward he'd been enrolled in the sole huntsman training academy. There he'd refined his knowledge of the more rural aspects of being a Huntsmen. For days they'd send him and his fellow peers into the woods to train and run obstacles when they weren't forcing them to fight the Grimm they'd captured and starved to be something docile. The experience had been painful, the instructors were less concerned with one's survival and more son focused on whether or not one could meet the standards.

At the very least the experience gave him an idea of what to look out for in the dense tree line. Any shimmers across tree trunks or sudden movements through branches, then he'd call out a warning to the rest of his team trailing behind him. As what was expected of the one leading the

That was the idea anyways. Except not even five minutes later after their arrival, Russel happened upon a small clearing within the forest and on the ground in front of him lay a bloodied heap.

Quickly glancing around keeping a look out for a hostile entity, Russel drew a newly minted dagger from his belt. Approaching the mess on the forest floor, he came to rest beside it on a knee. Giving one last quick look around to ensure he would not be taken off guard, Russel reached out for the heap and tugged on it, feeling leather beneath smear of blood, he pulled. The heap unfolded itself, revealing it to be a man who'd fallen, landing on his face and cradling himself in his arms. He also appeared to have been bleeding profusely from his chest.

"Who's your friend?" Russel turned to look over his shoulder, finding Cardin now towering over him with the rest of their team beginning to funnel in behind.

"We just met." The Thrush said before standing.

"Any idea what killed him?" The Winchester heir inquired as the others began to crowd around the corpse.

"Not sure," Russel muttered as he began to search the man's body. Pulling over his leather duster, he was given a pristine view of several gunshot wounds. "I'm gonna guess, not a Grimm attack."

"Bandits?" Cardin asked, only for Russel to dig through the man's pockets and produce a wallet.

"I think we can scratch bandits out of the equation." The Thrush said as he searched the man's wallet for some sort of identification. Seeing none, he reached in and withdrew whatever cash that laid within before returning it. Pocketing the assortment of lien, he glanced up to find half his team glaring down at him. "What?"

"You just robbed a dead man." Marie-Anne stared in disbelief. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Put it back Russel." Cardin ordered. Grumbling a profanity under his breath, Russel did as he was told and returned the man's cash to his person. "It's not Grimm, nor is it Bandits. He's human and we're on the prowl for the White Fang. You think its connected?"

Russel shook his head. "I won't rule it out. But it still remains to be seen."

"There's something familiar about him." Danny scratched his chin. "Or rather, the crest here on his jacket is."

"Is that a Blimey Cock emblem?" Marie-Anne asked as she joined the group huddled around the body.

"I thought they all got killed back in Venezier?" Dove wondered aloud as he hovered around the group. "What the hell would one them be doing all the way out here?"

"Blimey Cock?" Neptune gave them an incredulous look. "Do I even want to know?"

"The Blimey Cocks were a radical anti-faunus group out in Venezier. A couple of us tangled with them some months back." Russel sheathed his blade.

"It looks like one he belongs to the Blimey Cocks. But the emblem's wrong. The 'B' is too crooked." Sky, the foremost expert on the group given his proximity to their members from the events from Venezier months prior, said as he knelt down beside the body, pointing to the sigil marking the dead's clothing. "It doesn't look like a rooster head. More like a crow."

"So what?" Bolin said, visibly displeased. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Giving the group a shrug, Sky saw fit to explain. "This man isn't related to the Blimey Cocks, well, not personally. Remember? The Blimey Cocks were a group that splintered off from the Ministry of Nihilism. You wanna bet this fellow subscribes to the main sect or another variation?" He gave the dead man a good poke with the blunt side of his halberd.

Raising a brow at the wording, Arslan turned her gaze away from the body and to Sky. "Ministry of Nihilism? I've never heard of anything like that."

"Yeah, well, they don't like to advertise." Sky shook his head before standing with the help of his halberd. "I'm unfamiliar with their origins, but from my understanding they're a group of people who subscribe to the belief that, well, nothing matters."

"Living in a world full of monsters that prey off of negative emotion would be the right environment to foster such belief practices." Sage mused.

"Hey! We got some more over here!" Willa shouted, catching the others attention.

Stepping away from where they'd huddled around, the assembled Huntsmen followed Willa beyond a layer of bushes and walked into another clearing. From then on, they were greeted by the sight of a grisly slaughter. Bodies lined the ground, strewn about, as if they'd died where they stood.

Giving a command to his people to step forward with caution, Cardin took point as he and his team began to scour the area, checking to see if anyone had survived whatever had occurred and to understand whether or not they were at risk for being within the vicinity.

"Ambush?" Cardin asked aloud, looking to his people for their input on the situation. Most, however, were silent. The last time they'd been present for a similar sight, they'd been aboard Amity Colosseum. Not all of them were quite over it yet.

Studying the surrounding area it was clear that there had been something more than a simple ambush. There were boxes full of supplies in various areas of the surrounding forest. Most of the dead men appeared to be unarmed, save for the clinging on to the metal bear traps in their cold grips. Walking over to the boxes behind a nearby bush, Russel found several shovels and packaged meat. Scratching his chin, he took a step back to look at the surrounding forest, taking in the sight of the carnage, but also noting how open it the area was in comparison to the surrounding dense forest.

"No. Well, not exactly. I'd say these guys were setting up to trap something out here. Then they got caught with their pants down." Russel concluded, rejoining the others.

"You hear that?" Sky asked, causing a hush to fall over the team. Once silence had befallen them, all could make out the distinct sound of ragged breathing.

"Over here!" Scarlet shouted from near the edge of the clearing. "One's still alive!"

The Huntsmen responded immediately, rushing over to Scarlet's position. Arriving, on the forest floor they found a man dressed in a similar outfit to the other dead men with the same sigil adorning his outfit.

They began to encroach up his position, causing the wounded and bloodied man to weakly raise his hands in defense. "G-get away from me…!" He strained to shout.

"Sir, please. Be calm. It's alright you're safe. We aren't going to hurt you." Cardin did his best to ease the man's concerns. Looking him over with only the minimalist effort, even he could tell he was in a bad way. "Sky I need a med kit."

"…Don't bother." The man wheezed. "I am already dead."

"You with the Ministry? Or a splinter group?" Russel asked as he knelt down beside the man.

"What…does it matter to you…?"

"Not much." The Thrush answered simply. "Might as well hear a dead man's confession while he still has the time."

"I am…I am not of the main branch of…the Ministry…but that of the Jack Crows." He pointed to the embroidered sigil adorning his vest. "I have been for…most of my short life."

Seeing as he'd already gotten the man talking, Russel continued his questioning. "What brought you here?"

"We…" A flicker of hesitation. "We came for something."

"Evident from the trappings you were setting up." He motioned to the crates full of supplies. "What was the score?"

"…One night…Father Merlot had seen…a creature. He wanted it."

"Just like that?" Russel raised a brow in slight disbelief. "Aren't you a nihilist? Why do anything if it doesn't matter?"

The dying man laughed, seemingly finding strength in having his views tested. "I do not expect you to understand. The teachings of the Ministry unlock the understanding of the world around. Only those foolish enough to take it the belief at face value and refuse to dig deeper into the subtext delude themselves the gift we offer. The chains of our world no longer bind me. Nor do they my fellow followers. We chose our own path. Just as we chose to follow Father Merlot and his heed his sermons."

"The more I hear about this Ministry, the more I think it's a cult." Arslan whispered to her side.

"A cult with multiple off shoots and probably thousands of believers throughout the world of Remnant." Bolin shuddered. "What a scary thought."

Paying the two Mistralian Huntsmen no mind, Russel pressed on with his questions. "I presume this Father Merlot sent you here with good reason?"

"The…creature he saw…he said it was nothing like he'd ever seen." "He said…it was Grimm. But it was also…something more."

"He sent you out here to catch a Grimm?" Russel stared at the man, a mix of horror and disbelief. "You sure your Father Merlot wasn't just fucking with you? The only ones who want to capture Grimm are the Huntsmen schools. You sure he didn't just send you out here to die?"

The man laughed. "But it was not Grimm that felled my brothers and I."

"You're right." The Thrush conceded. "So, who killed you?"

"I don't know." He struggled. "For…three nights…we tracked…but alas…then…gunfire…"

"Hey, we're not through yet." Russel gave the man a light tap on the shoulder. "Did you ever see their faces? Where did the gunfire come from?"

"…No…no faces…the shooting came from…the trees…" And with his final breath the man died.

A moment passed. Russel did the polite thing and shut the man's eyes. Letting the event settle with everyone for just a moment longer, he stood and addressed the group. "Thoughts?"

"White Fang wouldn't care if they were Ministry or not. These people were human. Just easy pickings." Cardin said, doing his best to help shepherd the conversation and take everyone's attention away from the man who'd just died in front of them.

"Or, it could be a totally unrelated matter."

"You really think so?"

"It's a possibility."

Cardin grimaced. "Just very unlikely."

"One question left then." Sky said, motioning to the bodies on the ground. "We going to do anything about these guys?"

"Are there any shovels in their supplies?" The Huntsman Lieutenant asked.

"A couple of them, yeah."

"Well," Cardin gestured to cold bodies lining the forest floor. "We aren't leaving them like this."

The town of Kevlar was something of an anomaly in the modern era. Set along the border of the no man's land that acted as a buffer between Vale and Vacuo, the town swore no allegiance the ruling kingdoms. The town of Kevlar was a neutral force that continued to exist under the sole purpose of acting as a rest stop for those traders travelling between the two kingdoms. As relations between the landlocked kingdoms have notoriously been historically tense, the existence of a neutral unaligned party bridging the gap along the buffer that the no man's land provided had been warranted.

Being a neutral town with no recognized governmental oversight had led to more seedy practices. Crime was commonplace. The biggest gang in town was the one with the most money and also the ones with the biggest guns. Protection rackets were mandatory, as existing on the fringe between two opposing societies had left the town and its people existing without the protection of either Kingdom's Huntsmen. If one needed to be informed of who was in charge, they'd be told with fist and steel.

But there was order within the bustling town. There was a level of protection to keep the mangy beasts who'd prey on their lives. There were sensible enough folks at the helm to keep the lights on. Good people with good business sense.

These were people whom Arthur Watts could work with.

Arthur Watts a man in his late forties with graying black hair and a tan complexion. He wore an orange dress shirt and a black tie, with a matching pair of slacks and coat rounded out by his vest. A golden 'W' sigil shown throughout his attire, either embroidered into the cloth or pinned. His choice of footwear was stained the moment he stepped out of his carriage, the dirt road snuffing the polished coat of his loafers. But that was alright, he could always afford to purchase another pair.

Monty knew he could afford it. Being a billionaire industrialist as well as the owner and CEO of Watts Enterprises allowed such frivolous indulgences.

Emerging from his carriage, he glanced back into the interior of his transport and held a hand to his companion, asserting that he'd be able to handle this matter alone. The hazel eyed man who stood something along the lines of seven ft crossed his arms, giving a wordless retort. Should Arthur have need of him, he would know, until then he was fine sitting out such tedious discussions.

Departing with a wave to his driver, a milky eyed man with long flowing dreads, he set off from the road to a three-floor building at the center of town title 'Barret's'. What would easily have been mistaken for the town hall, Barret's was wide and clean with a shine one would overlook had they not been looking for it. But he'd been looking for it. He wanted to know as much as he could about the fellow he expected to find inside.

Kevlar was not rural. It was not backwater nor was it trash. It was simply unruly, with the only ones affording to keep their homes clean and upkeep certain being the ones on top of the grime and filth. With that distinction in mind, it wasn't a surprise to Arthur when he was met by armed guards. In a place without kingdoms, there was a king. The one with the biggest guns in town.

He was met by armed guards, a pair of individuals who knew not when to speak nor when to act. It was poor manners and poor business sense. To wave a gun around without so much as a pleasant 'hello' or 'good day'. Truly, living on the fringe of society did not aid in the development of useful bodies this side of the globe. But before they could so much as pull the trigger of their guns or flex their wrist to swing their sword, Arthur raised a calming hand and showed them the contents of his breast pocket.

The pair of gentlemen seemed to calm themselves long enough to take their eyes away from the harmless man standing before them and turn their attention to the item in his hand. What they found was a pocket watch. A very old pocket watch from the days before scrolls and the technological achievements that Arthur had made himself rich off of. They stared and they stared at the old mechanical wonder, looks of disbelief and absurdity written on their faces. The pocket watch made audible ticks and tocks, with the internal gears clicking and clacking as they revolved around powered by a tiny alkaline battery.

Despite the pair of guards staring for a considerable amount of time at the pocket watch, not once did it cross their minds that the hands were spinning in reverse. Within the span of thirty seconds from Arthur removing the watch from his breast pocket and showing it to the guards, the pair of weapon wielding hired hands seemed to slip into trance. Becoming like statues, their arms fell to their sides and their blades and guns fell to the wayside.

Fancying himself to be a gentleman, Arthur voiced his apologies and inserted the watch back to its resting place. With the dregs dealt with, he found himself surprisingly unopposed and took a stroll throughout the building. Aside from the couple sentries minding the front door, there appeared to be no other guards within the premises, a clear tell-tale sign that he'd chosen the right man to see.

Reaching an extravagant door adorned with wood carvings, Arthur did the only appropriate thing for the given situation and knocked once. Hearing only silence from within, he let himself in and found two pairs of eyes staring at him.

"Forgive me for the intrusion." Arthur spoke eloquently as he sized up the two men within the room. One of them, another guard given his worn attire began to go for his gun holstered at his hip, only to be stopped by the other man in the room. An elder gentleman, stout in his build and sporting a handlebar moustache, who sat behind a pristine polished desk. It was evident he was the man Arthur had come to see. "I had been hoping to meet with you, Mr. Barret."

Clay Barret's eyes widened, dawning with realization. "As I live and breathe." He glanced at the boxes in the corner, the ones adorning fancy golden 'W's. Then, finally, he returned his attention to the man standing within his office and sputtered. "Mister Arthur Watts."

The industrialist smiled. "You know of me?"

"Half the frontier knows of you." Barret practically laughed as the hired gun began to relax. "Your company's machines are the tether for those out in the wilderness linking them back to civilization. They also do me and my men a lot of good with keeping the Grimm out. What can I do for a man of your reputation?"

Why indeed had Arthur Watts, a renowned scientist and industrialist who hailed from Atlas come to this squalor? "Would you believe I'm hoping to do business?" He answered sincerely.

"Who isn't?" Barret steadied himself, meeting the industrialist's gaze. "You want something? Something you can only find here? It will cost you. But not in money. I can get that plenty."

Though it did wonders for Arthur and his overall cause to see a man such as Barret eagerly wanting to make a deal, he needed to draw things out. You never get less than three bids nor do you buy a car a sticker price. There were correct and proper moves to the arrangement, and Arthur had learned well over the years. So now he played his part in this all too familiar dance. "You presume I want something from you specifically."

"Then it is something only I can help you get." Barret said, seemingly knowing his part in the arrangement, or perhaps blindly and stupidly stumblingly along into it. "Just as only you can help me get what I need."

"It all depends." And with three words, the attitude of the room has shifted. No longer was it Arthur going to Barret, now it was the opposite.

"I need knights. Atlesian Knights." Barret spoke with a low serious tone. "I'm certain a man of your caliber could easily acquire them form me."

It was true. Atlesian Knights would be easy to come by. Amongst the upper echelon of Atlesian society, the heads of many a Private Military Contractor tended to swim in similar social circles. Many of whom were quite familiar to Arthur, having outsourced many a project to his company in the past. Reaching out to Marigold Corp for some of their lower rent models would be easy enough.

"How many would you need?" He speculated, allowing Barret to show his hand.

"At least twenty." Barret answered with a measured stare. "Things have been getting rowdier along these parts. Ever since that mess in Vale? The Grimm have been getting bolder."

Twenty knights were a poultry sum. Though Barret had the market in the way of authority here in this town, he certainly wasn't a visionary. That just made it all the easier. "I can arrange the delivery of your knights. Only if you help me with a little problem."

Barret didn't miss a beat. "Name it."

"I'm looking for someone."

"Does this someone have a name?" Barret raised a brow.

"Kruger. He was a famed ecologist. He worked for me." Arthur said, at long last tipping his hand. "I was promised good things from my investment into his work. I would like to see a return."

"Don't we all? We all would like to see good things, to reap the benefits of our work." Barret began to drivel on, doing his best to suck up to one who could provide the equipment he desired. "Your dear friend Kruger had travelled this way some months back. He stopped off to head somewhere within Vale. But I'm afraid that's where his story ends."

"That's no good."

The look on Arthur's face must've spoke volumes. "I hope this doesn't put a damper on our business relationship."

"That remains to be seen." Arthur's eyes narrowed. "If Kruger had parted ways with your town and left elsewhere, pray tell how did you come by this information?"

That earned an uneasy laugh from the stout gentleman. "Would you believe one of his hired hands came by?"

"Did he say anything else?" Arthur inquired further, testing to see that this expedition of sorts hadn't been too much of a waste of his time. "About where Kruger had gone or what he'd found?"

Barret scratched the back of his head and glanced over to the hire hand who'd since remained silent. The man gave him a non-committal shrug, but it seemed to be enough to put Barret at ease. "That one, well, he isn't much of a talker."

"A man of few words?"

"I'd say he was more of the strong silent type, if it wasn't for the amount of screams left in his wake." Barret seemed to shiver in his seat.

"But he would have the information I seek?" Arthur pressed before concluding. "I would like to meet this man."

"He passes through pretty regularly. Takes work as a bounty hunter. He only goes after Faunus though."

"Yes, he sounds like the kind of mind Kruger would attract." He couldn't hold back his sigh. He'd bankrolled Kruger's work as he was the leading member in his field as well as the one with the conviction to see the results Arthur and by extension his extremely exclusive group. However, he wished the man wouldn't have garnered attention from less than depraved individuals. "Would you know when he'd be due to return?"

"He set out a week ago into Vacuo. He could return any day now."

It had always been a possibility that he'd be staying within the town for an extended period, but Arthur had hoped otherwise. Alas, it wasn't the case. No matter, he would make it work, for his benefit of course. "Then I will be here to greet him and I would like to enlist your men's protection in my time here."

"You will have it. Boyd." Barret signaled to his hired gun, causing the man to step forward at the ready. "This is Boyd Merriweather. He's my best man. A real gofer. Go for this, go for that, go break that man's legs, go skin that girl's cat. The only man in this shit hole I'd trust to get the job done."

"Is that so?" Having already met the pair of guards at the entrance, Arthur was plenty skeptical about such a claim. Deciding to put the man to the test, he reached into his breast pocket and removed the pocket watch. "Mr. Merriweather, would you do me so kind as to take a gander at this watch?"

"No." Boyd declined.

Arthur studied the man for a moment, a slight curl in the corner of his lips. "No?"

"Boyd, you're making me look bad in front of our new business partner." His boss chided.

Keeping a serious face, Boyd explained his reasoning. "No, because that is not a watch. It's a weapon." He said, pointing to the center of the watch, where the hands met, where circuitry and electricity danced.

"Very astute observation." "You'd be surprised how often people willingly look down the barrel of a gun. You have your wits about you Mr. Merriweather. I think we'll get along just fine."

And just like that, Arthur had secured that the partnership of the town's ruling power to have at his beck and call as he waited. Savoring the moment. There was nothing like good business.

After spending the majority of the afternoon setting the Jack Crows bodies to rest, the team of Huntsmen had travelled onward.

Night began to dawn upon them. Knowing better than to wade further through a forest in the dark, the Huntsmen set camp.

Busying themselves with their assigned duties, the Huntsmen broke off to assemble their tents and gather firewood. Russel, however, had drawn the short straw as it were and was assigned lookout duty.

But that was fine with the Thrush, he mused as he pulled himself into a tree for a good vantage point over the area. Peering through the grooves and angles of branches and leaves, Russel perched himself atop a branch and reclined himself with his back against the trunk. Now that he'd committed himself, he set to work keeping tabs on the surrounding forest with the aid of a pair of night vision binoculars, but also with his own pair of eyes his fellow Huntsman below him. That not only accounted the Valian natives who he'd attended Beacon alongside, but also the Mistralians who hailed from Haven.

Still, it was an odd sight. To see the likes of Mistralians and Valians working together under a single banner. The days of the Great War were far behind them and relations could never have been better. But still, the people now serving alongside Russel had only months ago been potential adversaries in a tournament designed to pit their best fighters against each other in proxy battles. The winner would've gotten bragging rights, but also the affirmation that their people could best them in an all-out war should the need ever arise.

However, something big must have been brewing across the pond to force the government of Mistral, let alone Haven Academy to refuse to come to their people's aid. Whatever it was it had many amongst the Huntsmen of Vale concerned. Too much was going on with only Atlas answering their calls. Even then their relationship was anything but stable.

Word was that General Ironwood was dealing with some political fallout for the fall. An entire fleet of Atlesian warships had been destroyed with their military forces all but decimated in the attack. It was probably the worst military blunder in the history of the kingdom of Atlas. With faith in the good General shaken, more divisive voices were emerging from the populace.

A war on two fronts was an unwinnable one. If General Ironwood lost control of either of the two council seats he controlled, the one he'd been elected into by the people as well as the one he'd inherited as the kingdom's head of military affairs, then the ruling class of Atlas may begin cutting expenditures for the aid they provided Vale. There was also the looming possibility that if it would occur, then what was to stop them from simply taking their armies and starting a new occupation. The people of Vale were given a good view of that possibility in the days after the Fall and that was very undesirable.

The second front in their overall war was with Cinder, if that was her real name. The woman who orchestrated the Fall of Vale wanted nothing more than to see the kingdoms burn, she'd made that perfectly clear. She'd also made it known that she hailed from Mistral. So maybe that was why the kingdom had shut down communication as well as their borders to Vale. For all they knew the woman and whatever forces that worked for her were already underway taking apart the government, if they hadn't already done so. Anxiety was high following that train of thought. No communication in or out meant they'd all been kept out of the loop on whether they all should be fearing for their lives. Especially so when word spread amongst the recently promoted students of Beacon that some of their number had set off on their own towards the kingdom alone.

Russel, however, found himself in the minority of the consensus. He didn't feel any sympathy for Jaune or his team. Whatever they wound up running into in their merry globetrotting adventure, he thought it was what they deserved. The three of them had walked out on Vale when they needed them the most. He knew why they were running off as they had already made their point clear the last time, they'd spoke with him. Or rather, while they beat him senseless.

What remained of Team JNPR had skipped out on Vale because they felt guilty that they couldn't do more for Pyrrha when she was still alive. They weren't anywhere near when she'd gone up to face Cinder. They were down below fighting Grimm or stuck in a locker getting shot off to where she knew they'd be safe. All it took was one moment when they weren't looking after their friend, now she was gone, all because they were too far removed from the situation. They felt so damn guilty they left their kingdom behind to pursue personal vengeance.

At the very least, however, the rest of the former student body could relax even if it were only slightly. Ruby Rose was apparently the one who'd organized the whole thing. Word from Yang in Patch was that her sister had woken up and almost the first thing she'd done was rally those she could in hopes of setting off to Mistral to learn more about the woman who'd crippled their kingdom.

Ruby was the youngest person he'd known to attend Beacon. She was also the only one in class who could get him to help out with decorating for a dance. Since then he'd sworn off coming to her asking favors, because she'd damn well call them in. Ruby was two years his junior and she was pulling his hood over his head. He was impressed.

Though he couldn't condone their actions, at the very least Russel and the rest of the former student body knew someone levelheaded was the brains behind their decision.

"How's the lookout?" Russel turned his head to find Nadir climbing his way up the tree he'd chosen.

Up until now, he hadn't been able to get a read on most of the Mistral recruits. Socialization between both sets of Huntsmen was handled sparingly. For the most part they fell along a grading scale between disillusioned patriots to orphaned minors inheriting a troubled farm. Nadir fell somewhere around those extremes. He couldn't knock the guy for trying to be helpful.

"Nothing of note so far." Russel said, being mindful of the dying man's words from earlier and keeping watch in the tree line.

"Alright, well, I was actually sent by Cardin to relieve you. If that's alright, I mean." The ABRN member awkwardly said.

"Well, if the boss man said so, then I'd better get going." Russel said before tossing the pair of binoculars to Nadir.

Without fanfare, he dropped down from where he'd perched himself and gave Nadir a boost to climb upward. Relieved of his duty, Russel made his way into their camp, finding that not only had the tents been set up, but also, they'd already started a campfire.

And of course, Dove brought marshmallows.

"Want one?" The resident flyer asked, holding up the bag of spongey white fluff to the Thrush.

Taking a seat beside his teammate, Russel saw no reason to decline and reached a hand into the bag. With a marshmallow in hand, he drew his dagger and stabbed the point through the snack before turning it to the flame.

"You know I brought actual utensils, right?" Dove said, holding up a number of thin metal rods. As an example, he ran one through his own marshmallow to hold over the fire.

"Oh." Russel said, before turning to find the treat droop off his dagger and fall to the fire. "Could I get another?"

"You promise to be responsible with it?" Russel's answer was to sheathe his blade and turn away in defeat. "I thought so." The flyer muttered before blowing on his burnt marshmallow and biting down into the melted gooey center. "Want one?"

"You brought a bag of marshmallows on a mission?"

"I did. So, you want one?"

"You know that can probably attract wild animals, right?"

"If it does, do you think it'll be an edible wild animal?" Arslan's resident hoverboard riding teammate spoke up, poking her head out from beside her team leader.

"Reese." The combat master shot her subordinate a dirty look. "Not helping."

"What? I'm sorry Arslan but have you tasted these Go-Rations?" Reese questioned, raising a small container filled with gray chunks of indistinguishable origin. "Can you believe these are what Huntsmen on the field are supposed to eat? There's no flavor! No substance! It's just…blech."

"You mean to tell me, that if an animal came over here, that you'd kill it and then eat it?" Sage raised a brow in disbelief. "What if it was a cute little bunny rabbit?"

"Then I'd hope it would taste as good as it was cute." Reese said, tossing the go-ration aside and reaching over and into the offered bag of marshmallows.

"Would you believe me if I told you those go-rations are of Atlesian make?" Danny said, looking up from where he sat by the fire. In his hands lay one of his guns, dismantled for cleaning. "We had a lot of their supplies lying around after they packed up and left."

"I can see why they left them behind." Marie-Anne spat, tossing her own share of the go-rations into the fire. "Do the people of Atlas just not have any sense of taste? If not, then it should be considered a crime to force their soldiers to eat this stuff."

"Well, first day out on the job? I think it's gone rather well." Cardin spoke up, catching the attention of everyone around the campfire.

"We buried a bunch of people today." Scarlet said as he leaned back on his arms, his gaze unwavering from flame. "I don't know about any of you guys, but I signed on to fight Grimm. Mistral would hang banners throughout the city I lived in and they would say 'Be a Hero. Become a Huntsman.' But coming here, we've been abandoned by our kingdom, and now we find that the Grimm probably aren't the worst monsters out there."

A silence fell upon the assembled Huntsmen. What they'd seen was something unquestionably horrible, and the best they could do was try and not think about finding dozens of dead lying like heaps on the forest floor, abandoned to the uncaring elements as if their lives had never mattered to begin with.

What went unsaid amongst the Huntsmen was that for all their lives they'd been led to believe that the Grimm had been their most fearsome enemy. The wild and free world was plagued by soulless monsters that killed for the sake of killing and seemed to exist solely for the purpose of culling all life. They'd expected to come to blows with such beasts. To fight a virtuous war for their civilizations very existence.

But what they'd witnessed today was nothing like the recruiters in their faraway towns or cities advertised. There were no Grimm today. All there was were the acts of man.

The sole mercy they'd received was burial, from people who didn't know them and who's time had been more valuable spent pursuing their primary objective in locating the White Fang. But it had been the right thing to do. It had been the human thing to do.

It was then when Cardin had spoken. "I signed up to fight Grimm too." He admitted, placing his hands together against his nose. "Becoming a Huntsman is something to revere here in Vale and I suspect the case is the same in Mistral. Our kingdoms have experienced a period of uninterrupted peace for eighty years. We've been caught up in ideas of expansion and the growing threat of Grimm that we have since forgotten what man can do to one another."

"It's easy to throw around a word like 'hero'." Danny said as he began reassembling his weapon. "But that's not the job. We don't save people. We fight monsters, things that are unordinary and that threaten everything that makes us who we are, whether that be the people we care for or the ones we don't."

"Now that we've seen firsthand, it feels a little oppressive, doesn't it?" Sky contributed. "But we're still here, we still have the job to do. After all, we're Huntsmen, the vanguard of humanity. We're the guys who'd beat back the monsters, whether they be Grimm or man."

No one said anything else. Rather, they sat together, all in deep thought. In their lifetime, they'd witnessed the impossible as one of the four major kingdoms had nearly fallen. Of their number, nearly half had been effectively disowned by their own country. What they now faced on a day to day basis were not only the inhuman beasts that plagued every day normalcy, but also zealous terrorists and what other sick and twisted depraved human that dared to lurk in the night.

In their society, becoming a Huntsman was on par with being a Rockstar or a movie icon. They glorified combat for the masses, proving their strength and affirming the might of their respective kingdoms. Being a hero meant being a Huntsman, an illusion departed from the truth reality offered, where being a Huntsman meant facing the wicked and vile.

They would have remained there, sitting, ruminating on such feelings of their roles as humanity's supposed defenders, however, they did not receive the opportunity.

"Grimm!" They all heard Nadir shout from his lookout perch.

It was then that Russel was reminded of the inciting incident that kicked off the Fall of Vale. It was the broadcast of an unintended public execution and the subsequent demoralizing tirade delivered by the madwoman Cinder. The negative emotion generated by millions had outweighed the positive and agitated the Grimm lurking in the surrounding areas, attracting them to Amity like moths to a flame.

Their discussion had been anything but positive.

Of course, they'd attracted a Grimm.

As soon as Nadir had sounded the alarm, they'd sprung into action. Those with weapons already on hand were the vanguard, while those who hadn't were running off to retrieve theirs.

Standing with his dagger drawn, Russel was met with an all too familiar sight.

There, standing at the edge of their camp, twice as tall from the last time he had seen it, was an Ursa.

However, it wasn't any Ursa. No, it was something much more than that, more personal to Russel. The area around its right eye was scared with scratches from attempts to carve out the knife that remained lodged in its head.

The Thrush thought of the dying man's words, how he and his fellow followers had come into the forest to capture a Grimm. He'd said how their leader, the one they followed, had seen one and how it was different and desired it. Above all, Russel could think of no other worthy candidate for a Grimm to be considered different than the one standing on its hind legs before him.

It was The Ursa. The very same one that had plagued him in his childhood.

The moment he caught sight of it, so had it with Russel.

He expected animalistic rage to take over. That the beast would let out a roar and then it would lunge at him again.

However, it didn't roar.

"RRRRUSSSSEELLLLLL."

Before I say anything else about the Mistral students or that of Arthur Watts, I'd like to acknowledge that this story is pretty much an AU. In the beginning I tried to stay as close to the source material as I wanted. But for the sake of the story I wanted to tell, there are some notable divergences.

Back at the end of the Brand New Day arc, Mistral is the only one noted to not send for their people. I thought it be interesting to recruit the Mistral native students to the cast for the foreseeable future. I was originally considering OCs. But we've got enough of those character running around and who have yet to be introduced as antagonists. So, its a nice trade off for more familiar minor characters. Because, if anything, this is a story about the minor characters lost in the shuffle.

My idea for Arthur Watts was that he's basically evil Tony Stark on Salem's team. That was the idea I got when I first saw the character back in Volume 4, as he was the most dignified looking guy at the table of baddies. We kind of get evil industrialist with Weiss' father, but not really. So, expect him to fill that role.

Last arc the Ministry of Nihilism was name dropped. It was a blink and you'll miss it sort of thing. The basic idea is that its a term ascribed to a growing group of people who've come to believe nothing matters in a world where inhuman monsters live to kill you. We saw the more rambunctious splinter group last arc and how having a lot of them together in one place can lead to awful things.

Father Merlot? Anyone know any Merlots?

The adage about the idea of heroism within the current setting of RWBY is something I'm hoping to explore through this story. In volume 5 we saw signs in Mistral about asking people to become Huntsmen, to be Heroes. Huntsmen are glorified, modern day heroes in this society. This society is also responsible for the Vytal Festival where they have their best up and coming Huntsmen fight for sport in public displays meant to reinforce positive belief and maintain the image of normalcy. It's been eighty years since anyone has known war, Atlas has created a military force independent of Huntsmen, leaving the Huntsmen to be more like Flynt and Neon, colorful characters who don't speak to me as fighters in a war for survival, but performers. They're creating an illusion, manufacturing icons, heroes, to keep the monsters out with positivity. I hope I make sense by saying in the world of RWBY, hero and huntsmen are two separate things, but they're trying to mash them together. It's an idea.

I will try to get the next chapter out by next week. Hopefully. I am saying 'try', because I'm looking into pursuing another project. So, next week. Hopefully.

Until then, my dear readers! Later days!