Qrow waited for the elevator doors to open so he could get up to his room for the night. Usually, he had a few places in Vale he could stay at, but Ozpin needed him available at Beacon to keep a watch on Clark or the tracker.

He looked to the side when he heard someone coming. When he spotted the young man in black, he raised a hand to wave. "Hey Clark, didn't realize you came back already."

"Hi Mr. Branwen. Yeah, I just arrived in the city a few hours ago." He said. "I've been a bit busy, but everything seems quiet now."

"Hey, I told you to call me Qrow. Don't really care for formality. By the way, how did your fight against the, um, phantom go?" he asked as he stepped into the elevator.

Clark smiled sheepishly as he entered as well. "I was actually thrashed around a bit. My shirt got ripped up and had bark stuck in it, so I had to change. I pulled it back though and managed to capture it." He lifted up his shield crystal.

Jeez, this was a whole level of weirdness Qrow didn't know how to deal with. "Great . . . by the way, I just talked to my niece. Apparently, she's a real big fan of the Dart."

"The dart?" He asked as the elevator dinged and they both stepped out.

Qrow rolled his eyes. "Come on kid, don't play dumb. You know. The Dart."

Clark shook his head. "I honestly don't know what you mean by that."

His confusion was genuine. Wow. How many news articles did the kid even read in a day? Hundreds? How could he have missed this?

"Look here." Qrow took out his scroll and searched for the Dart. There were already dozens of articles on him. "People saw you when you stopped the Paladin. Well, actually, they only caught glimpses of you when you caught a few cars. Some people have already connected the dots and figured out that someone is also the one who's going around knocking criminals out."

Clark looked through the articles as he sighed. "I thought people would notice eventually, but . . . the Dart?"

"Seems like they're calling you that cause you're darting all over the city really fast." Qrow grinned slyly. "And some guy had a theory that you're going around shooting tranquilizer darts into bad guys to knock them out. So the name stuck."

Clark chuckled. "Well, at least it's not a bad name."

"Maybe. By the way, make sure to be in Ozpin's office by eight in the morning. You and I are going on a mission tomorrow." Qrow said.

"Got it." That had been part of their deal. In exchange for their help, Clark would also assist them with his abilities from time to time.

\\

"Ah, Mr. Kent, you're early." Ozpin said as he drank a cup of coffee.

"My parents always said that the early bird catches the worm." Clark sat down in the chair. "And considering how fast I am, I don't really have an excuse to be late."

Ozpin nodded. "I see. Well, your punctuality is appreciated. Alas, it seems that the same can't be said for Qrow. No matter, he already knows what I'm about to tell you."

The headmaster brought up a map with his desk's holographic display. "This is Ashbury, a town at the edge of Vale a few hundred miles south of here. Unfortunately, packs of Grimm were able to break through the wall at a point three miles south of it, and demolished a number of the automatic turrets in its defense. Creating a gap for them to pass through."

"A team of huntsmen has already been placed to defend the wall and prevent more Grimm from entering. While they do so, you and Qrow must deal with all of the Grimm that have already invaded. This wall protects several towns, but as Ashbury is closest to the breach, they will likely head there. Reconnaissance has confirmed that expectation, and there will also be transportation provided to help bring you to the regions you're most needed. Once you have dealt with the Grimm who've already entered, you will also go to the wall and defend it as the turrets are repaired."

"Any questions?" Ozpin once again sipped from his coffee.

"Is there any info on how many Grimm there'll be? And what types?"

"Two packs of Beowolves, each with a few dozen members, and a herd of Boarbatusks. Some lone Ursa were also spotted, but were eliminated by members of the other team."

"Okay, when are we going to go?"

"The Bullhead will leave in two hours, at ten o'clock exactly. I recommend you use the time to pack some extra clothing, as the mission will likely take a day or two. Do not forget your scroll either, it has your ID as a member of Beacon's staff."

Clark nodded. "Got it. But before I go, there are a couple things I need to ask about."

"Very well, go ahead."

"You said that you had magical knowledge that might help me get back home, right?"

"Yes."

"Great. I've been busy trying to learn about this world and tracking the phantoms. But now that I've already taken care of one, I don't think it'll be too long before I find the other one. I think I'll be able to focus on finding a way back home again, and if your magic can help, then I'd really appreciate if you could give me any information."

"Of course." Ozpin lowered his mug. "However, I would advise that you not raise your hopes. Much magical knowledge has been lost over time. To the point where most people don't even believe it exists. In addition, due to certain events before our recorded history, it has nearly vanished entirely. It may even be possible that there are no longer any who could help you."

"Oh." Clark's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Well, I guess it's at least better than nothing."

"It still isn't much. Whatever magical knowledge I can give you on portals and other dimensions will be sorely lacking. Please keep that in mind."

Clark sighed and touched the crystal in his pocket. He'd have to figure out some way to use it then. Right now, all he knew was 'touch a phantom and make it disappear'.

"Alright, thank you," said Clark. "The second thing I have to ask you about is this guy, Cedar Monroe."

He explained to Ozpin how the man had been possessed by the phantom and forced to attack the power plants and drain Dust. The police had snatches of security footage of Baern's massacres, and they'd been told by the Council to keep it hidden. After Clark had imprisoned the phantom, he'd warned the police captain to stay away from Cedar, and to tell the same to the Council.

That wasn't enough though, it would be better if he had another layer of protection. Qrow had told Clark before that Ozpin had political pull, so he asked the headmaster whether he could use his political pull to make sure no one bothered Cedar.

Once Ozpin understood the situation, he agreed to do what he could.

At that point, Qrow walked in the office and waved. "Hey, sorry I'm late, slept in."

Ozpin glanced at the clock. "You're half an hour late."

"Yeah, normally I'm up by eleven."

Clark sniffed as the huntsman got closer. "Mr. Branwen, have you been drinking?"

"What, do I still reek?"

"No, my sense of smell is just better than most." Clark said. He also caught the way how the headmaster's eyes focused on him as he said it.

"Huh, so what, you're like a bloodhound too?" asked Qrow.

Clark shook his head. "No, it's not that good. By the way . . . it might be healthier if you drank less." He didn't want to be rude, but with how often the man drank, he was clearly suffering from alcoholism. Although he didn't seem to let it interfere with his job.

"Shut it, I don't want a lecture about my habits from someone half my age."

Clark blinked twice. "Okay then."

Qrow nodded. "Good. Hey Oz, did you already brief him?"

"I did. Do you have anything else to ask before you leave Mr. Kent?"

"Nope," said Clark. "I'll just go down and get my stuff ready."

\\

Since the Bullhead would bring them to Ashbury in a couple of hours, Clark took the opportunity to read through some online articles on the Dart. The ones from official newspapers weren't bad. Most just detailed the facts of the saves he'd made and the people they interviewed. While a few more sensationalist outlets tried whatever they could to grab their readers' attention. Mentioning any theory as basically fact. Like the one with him using tranquilizer darts.

Clark had also started reading through some blogs and forums. While he'd been taught not to underestimate the press, those would have better examples of the public's reaction to him.

Now, at first glance, it seems like he has some sort of speed Semblance. After all, there've been several times when he knocked out people across the city only minutes apart. But catching cars? That's something else.

The blog continued, speculating on whether it might be possible for someone to have multiple Semblances, or maybe that he had a Semblance that somehow let him do both. Thankfully, the author had also ruled out the tranquilizer dart theory, saying that he'd spoken with policemen who'd arrested a few of the criminals that Clark dealt with.

I get that the guy's trying to do the right thing, but you have to admit that it makes people uneasy. Who does he have to answer to? Who's going to stop him if he decides to do something besides knock bad guys out and gift-wrap them to the police?

And why's he doing this instead of working as a huntsman? I think this guy could do a lot more good fighting Grimm than punching bad guys.

Well, this writer would have been glad to know that Clark was on his way to do exactly that. Otherwise, he brought up good points. As long as Clark ran around at super speed with nobody seeing him, more than a few people would get nervous. It wasn't as bad here as it would have been back home, since they thought his abilities was a Semblance.

Could he actually reveal himself?

It was worth considering. All his friends and family were back home on Earth, they wouldn't be affected if he told the truth. So should he show himself to the people of this world?

They'd learn that he was an alien, not a human with aura and a Semblance. Could they accept that? People here didn't seem more accepting than the ones back home, if the faunus were any indication. Even if he might look similar, it would be clear that he wasn't one of them.

Clark looked out a window to the sight of the city retreating in the distance. Even now, if he focused, he could still hear people going about their lives. Jor-El had said he could lead and bring hope. And here, hope was even more essential to survival than it was back home. Could he save lives just by providing that for them?

It was arrogant, Clark knew that, but he'd seen how some people had looked at him when he'd used his powers to save them. To the people who hadn't been afraid, those who'd been awed and grateful. Like Ryan and Pete.

Clark looked down to his scroll and read some of the comments to the article.

No way the Dart's real. It's just some feel good story that the media pumped out of some hallucinating drivers. The near-death experience just made them see things.

Dude, you're completely right. The Dart's cool and all, but what would happen if he wanted to rob a bank or something? Like, this guy can throw cars around, I don't wanna be anywhere near someone who can do that.

Boring article.

You ever think the Dart shoots girls and have fun with them when they're asleep? Like, that's totally what I'd do with a tranquilizer gun.

That one was just terrible. It was probably just an immature teen, but it still irked Clark.

I just want to say that THE DART IS REAL. My cousin was walking home last week, and she was being followed by this total creep. Like, he tried to get up in her personal space and get her to do things for him. She yelled for help and suddenly he was thrown into the wall. Completely knocked out. She couldn't see who did it, so it totally had to be the Dart. He's awesome, and you guys are total idiots.

There was quite a range of opinions there.

For now, it might be best until he could get people to trust that he only had good intentions. Which would take a while, and it would still work to make people feel safe and attract less Grimm.

That reminded him.

"Excuse me, Qrow?" Clark tried to wake the sleeping huntsman in front of him.

"Hm? We there yet?" asked Qrow. Raising his head and rubbing his eyes.

"No, we still have a ways to go."

Qrow sighed. "You need something then?"

"Yeah, I'd like your opinion on something. When I was up in Maston fighting the phantom, the police did something I don't completely agree with." Clark explained the hidden footage and the Council's involvement. "Is that normal for your world?"

"Sort of. The Council's given the right to suppress any news that they think might cause panic and set off the Grimm, but they've abused it plenty of times throughout history. Hell, I'm pretty sure a couple guys on it now already have."

"What do you think about this case? Were they using it wrongly, or were they right to try and not scare people?"

Qrow thought for a bit. "It's hard to say . . . probably cause I don't know what the footage is. But this phantom, he could go toe to toe with you?"

"Somewhat."

"Come on kid, I need more than that. What could he do that would have frightened people?"

"Well, he was about as fast as me. Strong too, not exactly at my level, but a lot stronger than any human. He also had powerful energy blasts, enough to throw me through more than a few trees. Enough to hurt."

Qrow shook his head. "Okay, that sounds pretty bad, did he have any obvious weaknesses?"

"I'm pretty sure he had to recharge with Dust often." Clark's eyes widened in realization. "Now that I think about it, he seemed to be getting weaker during our fight. But . . . that wasn't obvious in the footage I found, it just showed him tearing through workers and armed guards at speeds like my own."

"Damn. If it's anything like what I'm imagining, then maybe those bastards on the Council were right for once."

"You think so?"

"Well, not a hundred percent. But I can understand their decision. Besides, you took care of it, so it turned out well in the end." Qrow leaned back to go to sleep, but suddenly straightened up in his chair. "Oh crap. You said that there's another one of those things out there, right?"

Clark nodded. "But it probably won't have the same powers as the one I just fought. And I think it's laying low. I spent last night going through worldwide news and couldn't find anything I could trace back to it."

"Clark, we just talked about the Council suppressing the news of the phantom you fought. Don't you think it's possible they might be doing the same about this one?"

"Only if they're hiding the entire event. The articles on the phantom Baern didn't mention him, but I was still able to figure out it was him from the Dust he drained. Anything strange like that is almost definitely going to be because of a phantom." Clark looked out to the distance in thought. "I see your point though, could Ozpin help find out if any news is being concealed?"

"Maybe," replied Qrow. "We'll just have to ask him when we get back."

\\

"And you're certain of this?" asked Ironwood.

"Not completely, but it's almost definite," said Dr. Strivera. "Whatever seared the Paladin's leg is unlike any of our energy weapons. The temperature necessary to vaporize the metal is too high for them. Whatever managed it is extraordinary."

"I see, thank you." The news was anything but good, but it was valuable information nonetheless. "Please make sure this information doesn't leave your team."

The doctor nodded and headed to the door. Before he could open it, it sprang open in his face and hit him in the head. Revealing an aged, white-haired man in a lab coat who was soon followed by an orange-haired girl.

"Dr. Polendina," Dr. Strivera nursed his aching forehead. "I know you're rather eccentric, but do you need to be in such a rush?"

"Of course!" The doctor answered with a raised voice and an infuriated expression. "I am sorry for hitting you of course, but I can not agree to what this man has demanded of me!" He pointed to Ironwood.

"Yes, well, I'll leave you to your discussion." Dr. Strivera made a quick escape.

Penny waved goodbye to him with a cheerful smile.

"Hmph, damn youngsters." Polendina added grumpily. His anger seemingly dissipated.

"He's forty-eight," said Ironwood.

"Once you hit my age, the vast majority of people are youngsters." Dr. Polendina looked out the door for a few seconds before he seemed to remember why he was here.

"General!" He boomed. "What is the meaning of these?" The scientist took out some papers from his inner jacket and put them on his desk.

Ironwood looked them over. "Ah, I believe these were the modifications to Penny I asked for."

"Yes! And nearly all of them either totally pointless or unfeasible."

"How so?"

Dr. Polendina spluttered at that. "How so? Look at this." He pointed to one of the requrests. "You want her to be able to track bullets in real time? For this to be possible, her processing speed and storage would need to be increased to the point where she'd fill up a room. Not to mention the cooling it would take. Or this one, you want her physical strength increased even further? She stopped a truck with her bare hands, and you're not satisfied? What do you plan on making her do?!"

"Calm down Dr. Polendina." Ironwood was somewhat more lax with Dr. Polendina's eccentricities, but he wouldn't tolerate such disrespect. "While you are upset, I'll remind you that I am still the general of the Atlesian army. I decide how much funding and equipment you're allocated."

"General," Dr. Polendina said it slowly, containing his anger. "I want answers on why you want me to tamper with Penny to such an extent. Now."

"Sir, I would like them as well." Penny spoke in a low voice. "These new modifications seem very strange to me, and I don't understand why you think they're necessary."

Ironwood's eyes softened. "Of course. Unfortunately, I can't explain it all to you, at least not yet. What I can say is that I have discovered a possible, highly dangerous, threat, and I think that these modifications will make you suited to eliminate it. I honestly believe you may be our only chance."

She nodded with a serious expression. "I understand sir." She saluted him.

Ironwood then turned to the scientist. "I didn't ask for these alterations on a whim. Are you telling me they're impossible?"

"Most of them, yes."

"Why?" asked Ironwood.

"I've already mentioned the issues with bullet tracking."

"That can't be done? But I've personally seen Penny deflect them."

Dr. Polendina shook his head. "For that, she's not actually watching the bullets. She's paying attention to where the enemy aims and reacts accordingly. Even then, she only has a probability distribution of where they'll strike. Which is usually well covered by the area of her swords. If we want her to actually see and trackthem with her eyes, then we need many more processors, and storage units. Not to mention that her eyes aren't suited to do so in the first place, they'd need to be replaced with cameras capable of filming at tens of thousands of frames per second. Which are rather large and expensive."

"It's also not possible to move her arms or direct her swords quickly enough to react to events on those time scales. And even if her arms or legs could be accelerated to the point where she could catch a bullet, such actions would wear down her joints when she brought her arm to a stop. Her arms are already significantly heavier than a human's, and become more so if you want me to make her even stronger as well. Which, while perhaps possible, will take precious time recalibrating all of her sensors and motors."

"And these are just what I thought of in the first few minutes after I saw this list. Engineering workarounds for unforeseen problems will take up even more time, which will put Penny out of commission for a while. And in no shape to deal with this threat you speak of."

Ironwood sighed. Perhaps it had been too much to expect Dr. Polendina's genius to solve the problem of the alien for him. He'd made that list before he'd even realized that Kent had some sort of weapon that could apparently boil, not just melt, steel and titanium. The fact that it was compact enough to carry was worrying. Perhaps his crystal was the weapon?

"I understand," said Ironwood. "I'll discuss with you which possible modifications would be best at a later time."

Dr. Polendina nodded as he left, and Penny gave an enthusiastic goodbye. She was likely powerful enough to fight maidens, but against the alien?

Ironwood sighed, hoping he'd never need to find out.

\\

"There they are," Qrow looked down from the window. They were still a good height up, but the jet black outlines of the Grimm were obvious against the flat grassland below.

"Beowolves." Clark said.

Huh, to Qrow they just looked like black and white spots. "Really? You've got some impressive eyesight if you can tell from up here."

"Yeah . . . so we're going to take care of them?"

Qrow narrowed his eyes as he looked at Clark. "Kill them. Yeah."

Clark pinched his lips together, but didn't answer.

"Okay, this is good. Drop us off here." Qrow said to the pilot when they were a few dozen feet up in the air.

"Got it." The pilot pressed a switch, and the door to the back lifted.

Qrow and Clark jumped out, and the Bullhead left. It landed in the distance, but was still close enough to be visible.

The moment the two landed, the Beowolves reacted. Immediately loping after them with fierce snarls.

"Pay attention Clark." Qrow said as he held up Harbinger. "I know you got some pointers from Port, but this is going to be a bit different. You're going to need to practice fighting Grimm without doing anything crazy."

"Crazy?" Clark dodged a swipe from a Beowolf.

"You know, darting around faster than a bullet. Tossing boulders around. That sort of thing." Qrow slashed through a couple Grimm. "You said you want to keep that a secret, and if you're ever with other huntsmen, you're gonna have to fight differently. Specifically, fight like us. Besides, the pilot's over there in case we need immediate evac. Don't want him to see anything."

"Got it." Clark punched the leg of a Beowolf, and Qrow heard the crack! of bone and armor from the blow. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Qrow grinned. "Eh, I think it's best to learn while doing. So listen up, I'm about to give you some lessons."

Qrow cleared his throat as he fired into the pack. "Huntsmen fight in teams a lot. Makes sense, we spend years with the four-man groups we made and go on missions with them at school. In the real world though, we can't always do that. We have to work with whoever else also took the job, and we have to get along. Which is why I mostly prefer solo jobs."

"Those are the types that you'll probably go on too," he continued. "After all, wouldn't really make much sense to hold you back when we don't have to. Still, there'll be at least a few missions when you'll have to tone down your powers."

"Okay," answered Clark distractedly. "Sorry, I'm a bit busy right now." He'd gotten himself surrounded by Beowolves. Normally he would have sped out, but that would make the practice pointless. Instead he jumped up and a couple dozen feet away just before several lunged at the spot he'd been and crashed into each other.

"Yeah, see, that's a problem. Getting surrounded would seem like a death sentence for the type of fighter you are. You always need to keep moving when fighting a pack, keep as much of them in sight if you can."

As if in direct contradiction of his lesson, Qrow jumped straight in and slashed around with his sword. Decapitating multiple Beowolves and forming a path with his weapon through them.

"Most people get a little fancy." The huntsman said. "My niece for example, just jumps in and out with her Semblance or recoil from her weapon. And she's suited for taking out multiple enemies in a single hit. You're using your bare fists though. And you won't always have the option of streaking through them in half a second. So stay aware of your surroundings."

After a few more pointers, they quickly dispatched the Grimm in the area. Instead of running at high speeds like he normally did, Clark focused more on jumping around and staying out of the pack.

"Honestly, this place isn't great for fighting Grimm." Qrow finished. "Normally you'd have some terrain to help you, but it's all just gras-

Qrow stopped as he realized, there were still some fallen Beowolves remaining, but these weren't fading away. In fact, he could still see a few of them weakly moving around. Their legs were twisted and broken, but they were still very much alive.

"You didn't kill them?" Qrow's eyes widened. "Why the hell not?"

Clark looked away. "I . . . don't think it's necessary."

"Not necessary? How the hell is it not necessary? If you left them here like this, they'll recover and head to the town!" Qrow pointed to the northeast.

"They won't, I can carry them back over the wall."

"Carry them back over the wall?" he repeated in disbelief. "And what? You think they'll stay there? We're here because part of the wall broke. It might happen again, and next time, we could be too late. You want those people to die to the Beowolves you couldn't take care of?"

"Fine. Then I'll go farther," answered Clark in a calm, measured voice. "Far enough away that they can't come back. I'll throw them over a river, or find a mountain they can't pass. I don't have to kill them."

"Clark, I know you're new to this world, but the Grimm. Are. Monsters. They don't even have souls, and all they do is go around killing and destroying." Qrow glared at him. "You can't just put them all in a hole and forget about them."

"Maybe, but I still won't kill," said Clark. Meeting the huntsman's gaze head on.

Qrow took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calming down before opening them again. What the hell was up with this kid? This was taking things too far. These were Grimm, not crooks or wild animals.

Qrow stabbed the back of a Beowolf and killed it. Clark tensed, but kept quiet. Not stopping the huntsman as he made short work of the remaining vulnerable Grimm.

\\

"Got us a couple rooms," said Qrow as he tossed Clark the key. "You're in room four. We're across from each other. I'll be at the bar."

"You're going to drink?" asked Clark. It was still pretty early in the evening, and they were on a mission.

Qrow took a deep breath. "Kid, I am not in the mood. Just leave me alone, I'll be good to go in the morning."

Clark didn't argue, and went up to his room to drop off his bag. Then, he left the inn to walk around town.

After dealing with that first pack of Beowolves, the Bullhead had brought them to other areas with Grimm. He hadn't backed down on not killing them, continuing with his method of incapacitating them by breaking their legs. Qrow had been angry, and killed them instead. Although if that was supposed to rile Clark, it didn't work. Qrow was a huntsman, it was the man's job.

Qrow hadn't said it outright, but Clark could guess that he probably didn't think there was much point in breaking their legs if they were going to die anyway. It made him look like he was trying to keep his hands clean and let others do the dirty work.

Clark had been blamed for that more than a couple times, back home when he'd dealt with the meteor infected. Those who'd gained abilities after exposure to kryptonite. Most had been dangerous and mentally unstable, and Chloe had asked him more than a few times whether he ever thought that he should deal with them . . . permanently.

He hadn't. He couldn't. The decision wasn't up to him, and there was still a chance for them to be reformed at Belle Reve. Like Alice, she'd been willing to try and reform after she'd tried to kill Lana. It wasn't the same with the Grimm, since violence seemed to be a part of their nature, but the decision to kill still wasn't his.

Footsteps approached, light and quick. Someone was running up to him, and Clark turned to them.

"Wow! You're the huntsman from Beacon, right? Can I get your autograph?" A young blue-haired boy held out a pen and paper.

"Um, sure? I'm only technically a huntsman." Clark said uncertainly. It's what was on his ID. "You don't want my signature, I'm no one special."

"Of course you are, you're a huntsman! A hero!" His eyes shone brightly in wonder, and he seemed so excited he nearly jumped in place.

Clark shook his head. "Really, you don't want it."

The kid's arms slumped. "Oh, right. Guess you have better things to do. Sorry for bothering you." He started to walk away.

"Wait," said Clark. It felt wrong to pretend to be a huntsman, but the lie would probably make his day. "Give me the pen. What's your name?"

"I'm Cyan!"

"Okay." Right, he probably could have guessed from his hair that his name was related to the color blue. This world had a color naming tradition after all.

He wrote Cyan a brief message.

'To Cyan, here's an ideal I've always tried to follow. Do what's right, not what's easy. From Clark.' He handed the paper to Cyan.

The young boy held it up proudly. "Wow! I'm gonna keep this forever!"

"You really like huntsmen, huh?" Clark said.

He nodded. "Yep! I'm going to be one when I'm older!"

"And you're being trained for that?" asked Clark.

His head bobbed up and down excitedly. "I'm learning some fighting techniques from someone, but they're only the basics. Next year though, I'm gonna to go to a prep school and learn real fighting."

"How old are you?"

"Eleven, but I'm gonna be twelve in a few months." He pointed out proudly.

"And it's normal for kids your age to start training to fight?"

"Yep, but people who have huntsmen parents get training even earlier. Which is totally unfair." Cyan pouted. "Some even get their aura unlocked for them."

"I see." The thought of having children fighting was hard to take in. It had been strange enough to accept that Beacon students were barely even adults, but starting at twelve years old? And even earlier for some?

"Oh! Oh! This is the perfect chance!" Cyan took off his backpack and started rummaging through it. Taking out a small notebook. "You're an actual huntsman, so I really want to ask you lots of questions about what it's like. Can I?"

"I haven't been a huntsman for long," replied Clark. In fact, he wasn't even sure whether he should consider himself one.

"That's even cooler! You're, like, twenty-something right?" Cyan asked.

"Nineteen actually."

"Whoa, so you must be some sort of genius to be an actual huntsman already." Cyan's eyes widened in awe even further. "This is perfect! What school did you go to? Did you have some super strict training program? Ooh, what's your weapon like?"

Clark put up a hand. "Hey, hey, hold your horses there. I told you, I'm not anyone special, and to tell the truth, I hardly know anything about being a huntsman."

"So you won't answer my questions?" Damn, it was that look again. Cyan's lip was even quivering this time.

He sighed. "I'll do my best."

They sat down at a nearby bench as Cyan jotted down Clark's answers. He was very curious, wanting to know the path Clark took so he might be able to follow it to becoming a huntsman early. Clark gave him the backstory of having been raised by a nomadic tribe. Fortunate, since he was able to use the excuse that his education had been fairly unique to explain the holes in his knowledge.

That had been rather disappointing to Cyan, but Clark was able to cheer him up somewhat with specific tips on how to fight Grimm.

When they were finished, Cyan put away his notebook. "Thanks Mr. Clark, I'll make sure to remember everything you told me."

"Cyan, I may not know much, but are you sure you want to be a huntsman?"

"One hundred percent," said Cyan.

"Really? Because from what I've learned, it seems like a very dangerous job. A lot of huntsmen get hurt really bad." Or die. It was incredibly risky, even for people with aura and Semblances.

"That's what my mom says." Cyan looked down at the ground. "But she doesn't getit, being a huntsman means being a hero. I don't . . . I don't want people to die from the Grimm."

Clark looked at him sadly. It didn't take a genius to tell that this was more personal than just a childish dream. "Alright." he said. "But try to remember that there are other ways to do that than fighting."

Cyan just nodded. "Okay, thanks for talking to me." He waved goodbye as he left.

\\

"How much progress have you made with team RWBY?" asked Cinder. She and her subordinates were in their room at Beacon, and it was time for her to receive Emerald and Mercury's reports.

"I've gotten closer to them, ma'am, it seems that they consider me one of their own," answered Emerald.

"Do you have any ideas for who'd be best suited for the tournament plan?" said Cinder. "Perhaps the Schnee girl, her wealth and power bring much resentment. It would be very effective to make it appear as if she abused it."

"Actually ma'am, I think Yang Xiao Long might be a better choice," replied Emerald. "She has a reputation for having a temper. Schnee's too disciplined to make it seem like she'd attack someone out of spite."

"Hm, I see. What about the Rose girl? Have you learned any more about her?" It had been ridiculous to hear Roman say that a child had caused him such trouble, but it had been rather surprising to learn that she had silver eyes. Not that it excused him, the girl wasn't even aware of her own powers.

"She doesn't know anything. Ozpin accepted her in Beacon early, but she thinks it's because she impressed them when she fought against Torchwick," reported Emerald.

So still just another of Ozpin's witless pawns. Unsurprising, considering her eyes, but there were ways to deal with them. "I see. Mercury, what about you and team JNPR?"

"They hang out with team RWBY a lot, but I don't think there's anything special about them other than that Nikos chick." He said.

"That may be, but I want you to continue observing them." Cinder doubted the teams' friendship was a coincidence. Especially that blond boy. It was obvious in sparring classes that he was pathetically weak, yet Ozpin had still accepted him into Beacon. For what purpose, she didn't know.

However, she'd set that aside for now. The movements of Qrow Branwen, Ozpin's most trusted agent, were more important. For some reason, he'd remained at Beacon since the beginning of this semester. That had been dangerously indicative that Ozpin suspected something, but she'd detected no signs of him moving against her.

Cinder turned to her underling. "On to other matters. Emerald, you're certain Qrow Branwen didn't recognize you?"

She nodded. "Yes, he came to say goodbye to his nieces when I was with them. My Semblance made sure he didn't see our faces when we attacked the maiden, and he said he was going on a mission."

"A mission? Did he say anything about what it entailed?"

"He said that it was a standard one to a town called Ashbury, and that he'd likely be back in a few days."

Cinder took out her scroll. She indeed confirmed that there was a Grimm incursion at the wall protecting several towns. Ashbury one of them. But why would Ozpin send Branwen on such an ordinary mission when he'd kept him here for weeks? Cinder was certain none of these towns were of any importance.

Mercury spoke up. "Boss, I also saw him go on a Bullhead with someone else."

That piqued her attention. "Who?"

"I didn't recognize him," answered Mercury. "But he looked like a Beacon student in his second or third year. He's tall, black-haired, and wore a red jacket and jeans."

"Was there anything distinctive about him? A weapon? A symbol on his clothing?" asked Cinder.

"From what I could see, no. The guy was totally normal." Mercury looked up as he tried to think. "Well, he had this whole chiseled jaw and muscular look, so I guess he was kinda good-looking? Not on my level though."

Cinder frowned, and Emerald scoffed at his comment. "God, shut up. Can't you be serious for five minutes?"

"Hey, at least I wasn't stuck with baby-sitting the brats."

"Go fuck yourself Mercury, being with those idiots is torture."

Their pointless bickering again. No matter how often Cinder reprimanded them, they always argued at the slightest provocation. It was easier to let it dissolve in a few minutes rather than waste effort in stopping it.

This student, a tall second or third year with black hair. That was hardly helpful in identifying him herself, but Mercury should recognize his face. What role did he play? Another pawn like the Rose girl?

"And all she ever talks about now is that stupid Dart." Emerald complained.

"Pfft, no way she believes that crap. Is she five?"

Cinder interrupted them. "I would not be so quick to dismiss the claims of this 'Dart'."

They both looked at her with wide eyes. It seemed they both shared the opinion that the enigmatic Dart the media currently obsessed over was a myth. Of course, they both knew better than to argue against her.

"Now, I am not implying that there is a criminal bogeyman flitting through the city at supersonic speeds, but criminals in Vale are being targeted. Even two White Fang cells have been discovered by the police. Both with their members unconscious. Roman has also reported a few of his personal men apprehended in the same manner."

"We . . . weren't aware ma'am," said Emerald. "But if there is a Dart, someone who's behind all this, shouldn't we deal with him?"

"I would prefer to, as he's caused needless trouble for a few of our operations, but whoever it is appears to leave no traces. At least, none besides delusional reports of a man catching cars. However, he only seems to target obvious criminals. As long as our cover is maintained, we will be safe."

That was only in the event this Dart continued with his method of catching criminals, but considering his motives were a mystery, there was no point in needlessly frightening her subordinates. It would work to make sure they did nothing foolish as well, they were still somewhat young and impulsive, as their actions against Tukson had shown.

"Now, both of you will report to me as soon as you can when Qrow Branwen and this student return. I want a name and a face, and both of you shall work to befriend him."

They were less than eager to follow that final order, but made no complaints.