As the Bullhead landed at Beacon's docks, Qrow waited on the sidelines for the students to exit. Nearly all of them wore bright distinctive clothing, but he was still able to spot the long blond hair of his niece. Her shorter sister, on the other hand, was harder to find.

Still, Ruby was the first to see him.

"Uncle Qrow!" She zipped over, hardly even slowing down when coming in for a hug. Most people would have been surprised, but everyone in their family knew to expect her high speed collisions.

He patted her head and grinned. "Hey kid, haven't seen you in a while. You too firecracker."

Yang came in for her own brief hug. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming for a visit?"

"Actually, I'm here for work." Qrow pointed out. "Just thought I'd drop in and see my nieces."

"Really? Doesn't Signal's second semester start today too? Sure you aren't just slacking off old man?" Yang added with a cheeky grin.

Qrow sighed, he looked down at Ruby. "This is why you're my favorite niece." He looked back up to Yang, who gave a moldramatic gasp. "By the way, I'm not slacking off. I've actually been pretty busy this past week."

"Oooh, have you been fighting some kind of ultra-Grimm? Tracking down dangerous rogue huntsmen?!" Ruby asked, obviously eager for details.

"Nope." He held up a finger before she fired another question. "And I can't give any details. Now, why don't you two get your things? I still have some time before I have to go talk to the headmaster."

Since Ozpin was busy, Qrow had to go in his office and keep watch as they tracked Clark's scroll. Qrow didn't like it, but Ozpin had his reasons. Good reasons, even if they irked him. Besides, Ironwood would probably do something stupid if he thought they were doing nothing. His airships had already arrived at Vale.

"Okay, ready!" Ruby announced as she and Yang came back with their luggage.

Aw hell, he could feel guilty later. Right now, he was going to hang out with his nieces.

\\

Clark walked down a city street, the sky clear and bright in the mid-morning. People milled about, almost everyone in a rush to be somewhere. Their frantic steps, and the honking traffic were sharp contrasts to Smallville. Not to mention the skyscrapers and advertisements. It was a normal city, almost like he was visiting Metropolis.

Well, until Clark spotted a few people with animal features. The faunus. It wouldn't have been polite to stare, but he was curious. With a discreet glance, X-ray vision confirmed that their animal features were natural parts of their bodies. The dog ears on one man were fully connected to his body, with no signs of surgery.

It was kind of weird . . . even though the effects of the kryptonite meteors skewed Clark's sense of normality. He'dknown a girl who could transform into a wolf, but unlike her, these people were normal. At least by this world's standards.

He took out his scroll and checked the custom news feed he had of the towns surrounding Highwood. He received typical news events for the multiple small towns in the region. A new building being constructed, certain forests with rare tree species placed under protection from logging, more of what he'd seen for the past week or so.

It didn't make sense.

How could the phantoms have just ignored these towns? Clark was glad that the people there weren't getting hurt, but they had to be active somewhere. He'd need to talk to the headmaster about expanding his search.

That was the best Clark could do. Tracking aliens and strange events was Chloe's area of expertise, not his. The best he could do was put in general search terms and go through articles at super-speed.

He sighed. Well, she wasn't here now, so he had to do this on his own.

He put his scroll away. He couldn't find anything in the news, and he was in a city in another dimension. It was time to do what he'd initially planned. Explore.

After about an hour of wandering through parks and monuments, he realized with shock that he was being followed.

The only reason he'd noticed was thanks to his memory and the fact that he was constantly looking around as a tourist. Every so often, he felt like he was seeing same few faces repeated in the streets.

It had taken twenty minutes to be sure, and at that point he'd used his super-hearing to eavesdrop on one of the familiar faces. Just in time to hear her telling someone else where "the target" was headed.

Clark calmly walked to a nearby park. All the while wondering why they were following him. There was a convenient spot behind some trees where they wouldn't be able to see him without getting close, so he sat there. Once he was sure he was out of sight, he searched the area with X-ray vision.

He was being followed by two men and a woman. One man was in his thirties and dressed in a suit. The second man was blond and wore more casual clothing, a black jacket and jeans, and seemed to be only a few years older than Clark. The brown-haired woman wore a sports bra and shorts, she looked like a normal jogger.

There was nothing off about them at first glance, but the equipment they carried was way different from the tech normal citizens were using. The woman's earbuds for instance. They looked normal, but had a lot more dedicated circuitry than most.

Focusing a bit further, Clark found a van a few blocks away with the same advanced tech and carrying changes of clothes. Uniforms too, which he recognized. These people were Atlas soldiers.

He got up from the bushes and frowned. Really? General Ironwood had sent people to spy on him? Great. It was a good thing Clark had kept the majority of his powers a secret. He didn't want to think about what the general would have done if he'd known about heat vision or super-breath. The man was already plenty suspicious after he'd proven that he was an alien.

As annoying as this was, this could be a chance to show that he didn't mean any harm. That he only wanted to help. Although he'd prefer to relax for the moment. He'd been knee-deep in studying history books, fighting monsters in a forest, and sparring with two adults with powers. He'd earned this.

Clark wouldn't let a couple of snoops ruin his time.

He visited a Dust store next, and found some vials of the strange material. They'd sounded like magic at first, but while the science behind them wasn't fully understood, knowledge on them was reliable enough to build engines or power plants. They didn't seem to literally be magic either, since they didn't have the same effect on Clark that magic usually did. Sparring with Mr. Branwen and Ms. Goodwitch had proved that.

In other regions of the spectrum, certain varieties of Dust shone with beautiful features invisible in visible light. Fire dust had interesting patterns in infrared, and a few more exotic varieties sparkled in ultraviolet.

Clark spotted a vial of several pounds of lightning Dust that cost a few hundred lien. That sounded expensive compared to what he'd read, but prices had gone up recently due to a string of robberies.

While Clark stayed in the store, none of his stalkers entered. Although he did spot the woman out in the street. She'd worn a dress and glasses that he doubted she needed, since he hadn't seen them on her before. He spotted the others in surrounding streets after a brief check with X-ray vision.

After a brief meal at a sandwich shop, he headed to his next destination. A weapons store. Not that he needed weapons, but he was curious about the ones these huntsmen used. It wouldn't give a good impression of his peaceful intent though . . .

"Like that matters." He muttered to himself. He wasn't going to let them control his actions. He had the right to go to a store. If these soldiers wanted to report him doing so, then fine. Let Ironwood think what he wanted.

It wasn't hard to find a weapons store. It was in the same shopping district as the dust shop. According to a scroll search, it had an average rating of four-point-seven out of five, with hundreds of reviews.

When Clark arrived, he found a modern, sleek storefront with glass windows showing off much of the exotic weaponry inside.

'Wow, they're really lax with their guns here.'

He spotted lots of different firearms, snipers, rifles, shotguns, nearly all of them could transform into another kind of weapon. Frankly, their mecha-shift weapons were very bizarre, and it had to be a lot simpler for them to just use more standard weapons. He'd actually asked Dr. Oobleck about it, who'd told him that it was a result of the desire for uniqueness after the Great War. Although he'd also added that there was a certain aesthetic appeal to them as well.

Clark was no stranger to guns, his father had even owned a couple. It made sense that there were so many here, considering the Grimm were an ever present threat, but it still felt strange. Especially considering he'd seen teenagers in Beacon with similar weapons.

He actually spotted a few students here. Mr. Branwen had told him that their second semester had started today, and by now it was the late afternoon. Their lessons must have finished recently.

After some time looking around, Clark noticed that one of Ironwood's men had entered the store. Too paranoid to leave him alone in here, apparently. Clark looked straight through a shelf, it was the blond man. He was still wearing the same casual clothing as before, and quickly headed over to a section with axes, talking to one of the employees. Still, he was keeping Clark in his line of sight.

"Excuse me, sir?" A man asked.

"Yes?" Clark looked to the side. It was one of the employees here. An elderly, yet surprisingly well-built man only a few inches shorter than him.

"Do you need help with anything? I'd be happy to help." He said with a smile.

Clark recalled that a few of the reviews had praised the accommodating employees. "Actually, yes."

"Great! What would you like help with?"

"I'd like to buy some dust rounds, point-three-eight caliber," said Clark.

"Sure, right this way." The employee led him around. "May I see your weapon? If so, I might be able to recommend something better suited for you."

"Oh, they're not for me, I'm buying them for a friend of mine." They were for Mr. Branwen as thanks for his help.

"Ah, I see. Well then, just a minute." The old man went behind a counter and soon came back with several boxes. "Here they are, fire, lightning, ice, I have more types in the back if you want them."

"I'll take the lightning rounds." They weren't cheap, but Clark hadn't really used much of the money provided by the headmaster. His only real expense had been buying groceries and more clothes. He had quite the budget, although he was asked not to spend it casually.

"Sure." The employee rang up his purchase, with Clark showing the ID the headmaster had provided him so that he could buy the rounds. Before Clark left, the man asked. "Mind showing me what your weapon is? I have a passion for them."

"Oh, I don't have a weapon." He explained.

"You don't?" The man raised his eyebrows in shock. "So you're a hand to hand fighter?"

"I – wait, what makes you think I'm a fighter?" asked Clark.

"Your permit for buying weaponry is Beacon-issued, for one. And you walk like a huntsman. You're muscles aren't relaxed, and every step is completely controlled."

That was more a result of a lifetime of keeping a leash on his strength than fighting experience, but the ID was obvious. Clark went with the excuse the man had given him. "Oh, well then yes, I'm a hand to hand fighter."

"I see, but still, no weapon? Everyone uses more than their bare fists against Grimm. Why, I remember one girl came in recently with exquisitely crafted gauntlets. I'm sure you could find something you could use."

"I'm fine." His bare fists were plenty, and he had more in his arsenal than that. Besides, he was looking for alien phantoms. Even if any of their weaponry did work on them, he didn't want to hurt their human hosts.

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I am, thank you very much."

"It was a pleasure, goo-

"Eugh, get away from me you dirty animal!" A woman screamed nearby.

Both Clark and the employee turned and saw an elderly woman approach. "Excuse me, I thought this was a respectable business. How could you let them in here?"

She pointed back towards a girl that was around Clark's age. The brown haired girl looked down with clenched fists. It took a moment for Clark to understand the situation after he saw her bunny ears.

He'd heard that faunus faced discrimination from certain humans. He hadn't seen racism often back home, but there had still been a few cases with older folk. It was just as horrible as Clark remembered.

"Ma'am, we don't discriminate against customers." The employee said. "She's not causing any trouble-

"Not causing any trouble? She's upsetting everyone here! You should do us a favor and kick her out."

Clark stepped forward. "Ma'am, it's pretty clear you're the only one causing a commotion. No one else is making a fuss."

He towered over the woman and faced her with a hard expression. He didn't like using intimidation, and this went against a lifetime of staying out of sight. But this wasn't Smallville, and he'd already been discovered by authorities here. Besides, he couldn't just sit by and let someone spew their hate for a person's uncontrollable nature.

He must have cut quite the daunting figure, since the woman paled then left. Although he heard her muttering about "damn animal lovers".

"Sorry about costing you a customer." Clark told the employee.

The man shrugged. "It's fine, I don't appreciate racism either." He looked to the faunus girl. "Miss? Do you need help with anything?"

"Oh! Um, I'd just like to buy these rounds." She answered meekly, bringing them up to the counter.

"Thank you, by the way." She said to Clark. Her eyes didn't meet his, and she fidgeted with her fingers.

"I did what anyone should have done. Does that happen often?"

"Not really. Only one or two nasty people every once in a while." She replied. Handing over the money to the cashier.

"Well, if it helps, don't take their opinions too seriously." He said, doing his best to reassure her. "They're only speaking out of ignorance and misguided hatred."

Her lips curled in a small smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Here you are." The employee handed her a bag with her purchase.

"Whoa." Clark's eyes widened at what she was buying. "Minigun rounds?"

She giggled. "Yeah, my friend uses them, she has a purse which mecha-shifts into a minigun. It really tears through Grimm, and packs a punch when she swings it around as a handbag too."

"That's impressive." It really was. Her friend would have to be strong if she was actually able to clobber enemies with a purse the weight of a minigun. Huntsmen really were significantly stronger than normal people.

"Yeah. Anyway, thanks again for your help. I need to get back to Beacon to surprise her with them."

He followed her out the door. "Wait," he called out to her. She paused and turned back. "You're a Beacon student?"

"Yeah."

"So you've fought Grimm?"

She nodded.

Really? To be fair, this girl didn't look like much of a fighter. Especially considering her meekness back in the store.

"Do you mind if I ask how many you've fought?" asked Clark. She was so young too, hell she could have been a college freshman. People that age should be enjoying their lives, not fighting for them.

She looked confused. "Um . . . I'm not really sure. There've been a lot over the years. I haven't really counted how many I've killed, I don't think anyone does."

Christ, she was a student and she didn't even know how many Grimm she'd killed. If she was telling the truth, this was average for huntsmen, even the students. "Do you like being a huntress?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't be one if I didn't. It's not exactly a safe job."

"What about it specifically?"

"Well, helping people is a big part of it." She thought a bit further. "But honestly, the fighting is fun too. There's really nothing like it when my heart's racing as I fight the Grimm, or other students during spars. It's a great rush, and it's especially better when I know I'm helping people while enjoying myself."

"I see, thank you miss –

He paused once he realized that he hadn't even asked her name. How rude of him.

She smiled. "Scarlatina. Velvet Scarlatina. By the way, are you a Beacon student too? I overheard the cashier say that your ID was from Beacon."

"No, I'm not a student. I'm . . . I guess you could say I work for the headmaster there."

She nodded. "That explains why I haven't seen you at school. You're around my age though, are you an assistant teacher?"

"Not exactly, I don't think I'll have a specific position. In fact, you probably won't see me around often."

"Oh." She sounded strangely disappointed. "Well, hopefully we'll meet again mister . . ." She trailed off, obviously wanting him to fill in the blank.

"Kent. Clark Kent." He smiled sheepishly, since he'd forgotten to introduce himself too.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Clark. Bye!" She waved before leaving.

He waved back, and once she left, he went on to his next destination. The Nebula Tower was a tourist attraction as the tallest building in Vale. He'd been in Vale a few times before, but hadn't visited it yet.

He groaned once he overheard the familiar voice of one of Ironwood's men. It wasn't the blond man, they'd switched. These people, were they so paranoid that they wouldn't let the blond one exit the store to follow him?

To be fair, their paranoia was somewhat warranted, since he'd known about them for hours.

He ignored his stalkers and continued his walk to the tower. On the way, he thought about what Velvet had said. It was the first time he'd spoken to someone his age since coming here.

She was a killer. A killer of Grimm. A killer of monsters, but still a killer. That was the case for all hunstmen.

But did he have the right to judge? For them, there was only the option of death or self-defense. He couldn't fault them for that. And it wasn't just self-defense, she also protected other people by killing Grimm.

If he stayed here and worked for Beacon Academy, would he eventually have to do the same?

It was too easy to fall into the trap of thinking that he could save anyone with his abilities. Over the years, he'd caught bullets before they hit their targets, blown out fires before they hurt anyone, boiled floodwaters before anyone drowned, carried people to safety in milliseconds, and thrown meteor freaks or aliens across town before they hurt anyone in the area.

But he wasn't all-powerful. Even with all of Clark's speed, racing across the country to find a doctor to operate on Ryan hadn't saved him. Even with all of his powers, his father had died to a heart attack.

He knew there might be a situation where the only way to save someone from the Grimm would be to kill it.

It didn't take him too long to reach Nebula Tower. Upon entering, he saw an advertisement. People who climbed the stairs to the top were given a free T-shirt saying I climbed the Nebula Tower! and had a small discount on merchandise. It wouldn't be fair for him to do it, so he took the elevator.

There was quite a line for it, but the tower had several elevators operating to ferry tourists up and down. It took Clark a bit to get used to the noise, there was constant chatter of hundreds of people.

He reached the elevator. Its glass sides allowed people to look outside and watch the city as they began their ascent. Like everyone else, his eyes were glued to the walls as the rest of the city peaked over the nearby towers.

It was a city, and in some ways reminded him of Metropolis. But there were differences, the evening sun shone on the waterfall in the distance. Beacon Academy rested near the cliff, and the sunlight reflected off the river that cut through Vale. Cars rushed over the bridges and boats trailed through the water. The towers cut sharp shadows onto the streets and lower buildings, and lights were starting to turn on for the evening.

The other tourists filed out once they reached the top floor. Eager to get pictures or take a look through the tower's binoculars. He, on the other hand, went to railing and looked into the city.

Telescopic vision would save him a few cents, and with it, he marveled at the city. Dust was a cleaner power source than the fossil fuels back home, so there wasn't any smog. There was still some smoke in the industrial district in the distance, but nowhere near what it would have been in a city on Earth.

After looking at the scenery, Clark focused his attention elsewhere. He could see children playing, and focused his super-hearing on them.

"Tag! You're it!" A young boy in a playground reached out to tag his friend, and like all of his friends, quickly ran away laughing.

"Thank you! Thank you! And for our next song . . ." A concert of six men spoke to their adoring fans.

"And now for my next trick . . ."

"Try and catch me!"

After a while, he closed his eyes and roamed the city by ear.

A party in a nearby rooftop. Laughter. Playful teasing. Conversations about work, about family, about groceries, finances, hobbies. The bouncing of a basketball. Feet pounding at a sports game and people cheering. Music of pretty much every genre in existence. The heartbeats of millions of people. Eventually, it all blended together, the sounds of people, of civilization.

Clark walked back from the railing, looking for a place where no people or cameras would spot him. When he found one, he raced down the building at full speed.

Muggings, robberies, assault, so many examples of crime. So much more than the occasional ones Clark had stopped in Smallville. Even with super-speed, it had taken him minutes to deal with the ones he'd found. Knocking the criminals out and throwing them aside while he zoomed by.

The people he'd helped were confused, but were quick to call the police. He smiled at their expressions of relief as the authorities arrived.

Super-hearing allowed him to listen to the bustling life in a region, it gave him the opportunity to really come to grips with the number of people here. There was nothing like it.

But it also came with the price of hearing people in pain. In need of help. In a city like this, his actions weren't much, but they weren't nothing. He'd saved people, and that mattered. He couldn't help everyone, even though he wanted to, but that didn't invalidate what he'd done.

As much as super-hearing almost drove him insane, it also gave him the chance to listen to the people he chose not to help. Because in many cases, help was already on its way. A policeman calmly defusing a case of domestic violence, brave firemen entering a burning building to save people, ambulances rushing injured people to hospitals.

This was what he could see and hear. People helping each other, people without powers who put their lives and health at risk to help others. Who sacrificed so much more than he did, whose accomplishments were far more impressive than his own.

He couldn't help everyone, and he knew that not everyone got the help they needed. But even with that reality always surrounding him, this was what gave him inspiration. What gave him hope.

He was glad he'd gone up to the tower to watch and listen. Hearing the people, the heartbeat and breath of a city, was always more than enough to keep him going.

In this world, the people were under the threat of Grimm. He'd heard them, snarling and growling in the distance.

If a large pack headed this way from outside the city, he was confident he could blast and fissure the ground to block their path. But that wouldn't stop aerial Grimm, what could he do against them? He'd thought of leaping up and blasting them with super-breath before. It might take a few down, but probably just stun most of them at best.

If they swooped down? Knocking over buildings? Killing people, and silencing the millions of hearts? What could he do to save them?

If the Grimm ever came in large numbers, death would occur no matter what he did. He wasn't powerful enough to deter so many creatures. Even if he learned to fly, even if he'd wanted to learn how to fly, he doubted that he could stop them all.

He bit his lip. If a bear had attacked Clark's mom, and dad had used a gun to kill it and save her, could anyone blame him? Clark wouldn't have.

While the people here believed the Grimm were soulless demons, Clark wasn't convinced. He considered them animals, strangely vicious ones, but animals with lives like his own. Like anyone in this city.

If a day ever came when he had to do it, to kill the Grimm to save people, he couldn't hesitate. Blast any Nevermore or Griffons with heat vision before they could hurt anyone. He . . . had no other choice.

The decision left a bad taste in his mouth. His home hadn't been ideal either, but he'd managed to avoid killing, that might not be possible here.

He clenched his fists, almost squashing the rounds he held. It seemed oddly appropriate that he was holding them, considering the decision he'd just made. Damn it.

Clark sped back to Beacon.

\\

"There will be no punishment. This was always a possibility, and you've performed your duties admirably." Ironwood told the soldiers he'd assigned to watch Clark Kent.

"But sir-

"Silence, none of you are at fault. If anything, the failure is mine by not warning you that he might elude you no matter how attentive you were. You are all dismissed."

The soldiers left the room, understanding that it wasn't for them to know howtheir target had evaded them. Ironwood sat alone in his office on the airship. He couldn't let Ozpin know about the measures he'd taken to keep an eye on the alien.

He tightened his fist, even though Ozpin and the others might call them extreme, this surveillance had proven all similar operations in the future pointless. The alien could practically disappear at will.

Luckily, it hadn't been long between his soldiers losing the target and his reappearance at Beacon. About twenty minutes or so, and from the look of things, he'd caused no mayhem.

I can't be sure of that. It would be prudent to check the news for the next few days in case anything suspicious was brought to light.

In any case, today hadn't been a failure. They'd kept a watch on the target for half a day. Based on their report, Kent hadn't realized he was being followed. Ironwood's soldiers knew what they were doing, but how could he have expected them to keep a watch on someone who could traverse the city in seconds?

This was ridiculous, an alien whose power made Semblances and aura look like parlor tricks. Who could dodge any bullets aimed at him, and likely take anything they could hit him with.

Getting an upper hand on him in combat might be doable. Winter's glyphs might slow him down, or ice dust could be used on the ground he stood. His speed wouldn't mean anything if he slipped on ice. Penny's strength might rival his as well. He'd make sure Dr. Polendina would get whatever he needed to make the girl more powerful.

Defeating Kent in combat wouldn't solve their problems, however. How would they capture him? Even if they managed to do so, what prison could even hold him?

Could they kill him? Conventional weapons wouldn't work, but what about poison? If they could somehow get it into his bloodstream, it might work. However, his invulnerability would prove a problem with that approach as well. Darts wouldn't work.

And Ironwood was not going to assassinate the creature by slipping poison into his food or drink. So far, he seemed innocent, and he could be a very valuable asset against the Grimm and criminals like Roman Torchwick or the White Fang.

\\

Interesting.

Ozpin studied the map of Vale on his computer. Red dots marked the locations Mr. Kent had visited yesterday on his outing into the city. The entirety of Vale was covered with markers.

The amazing thing was that these was just the locations the young man, no, alien had visited in twenty minutes or so. Ozpin had set Mr. Kent's scroll to mark his locations at rapid intervals when it detected it was moving at high speeds, which was why there were so many markers in a small amount of time.

This showed that Mr. Kent could maintain his speed for quite some time. He'd even had the energy to run back to Beacon. Qrow had been the first to see their new ally just minutes after he'd returned. He'd been watching Mr. Kent's movements live and had been quite confused by their visitor's movements. In addition, Qrow had confirmed that the alien hadn't even seemed winded. Although perhaps exhaustion manifested differently with his physiology.

Ozpin brought up a second map of Vale, this one indicated the locations of certain strange calls to the police the same day of Mr. Kent's outing. In each instance, a criminal was left incapacitated, leaving relieved citizens who'd nearly become their victims. According to them, their attackers had suddenly been launched into walls and knocked unconscious.

The locations matched regions where Mr. Kent had slowed down somewhat and left a higher density of markers.

It wasn't difficult to put the pieces together.

This boded well. Even if he was an alien, Clark Kent claimed to have been raised by humans in his dimension. While his motives couldn't be certain, it seemed that he had sound morals. He hadn't even taken any credit for helping those people, and it was unlikely he'd done this to gain trust with Ozpin and the others. He hadn't even known about the tracker.

Qrow would be glad to hear this. He thought well of the young man, and had been concerned that this map might indicate some hidden agenda. Although Ozpin hadn't been as worried, living as long as he had, he knew how to read people. Clark was an alien, but unless he faked it extraordinarily well, he acted much the same as humans did.

This might also work to lower James' paranoia. It would be disastrous if his old friend did something drastic and pushed away their powerful new ally. His caution wasn't misplaced though, and Ozpin made note to give him access to the tracker. Let him see for himself what the "dangerous alien" was up to.