The light of the interrogation room shone sharp and cold over the table, in a blank featureless room. It cast down on three men. One seated at the table, and the other two across from him. All three were dressed for business, Button up shirts, ties, and slacks. The standing two were immaculate in care and appearance. One an older man, hair graying, eyes sharp beneath a pair of spectacles. The other was younger, gaze not so sharp, and features a bit softer. The seated one wore clothes creased and wrinkled, stained with sweat and grime. Hair unkempt and face showing the early scruff of a beard. He wrung his hands, looking down to the table. Heavy bags under his eyes, stress creasing the corners of his mouth.

"For the record, please state your name and badge number." One of the standing men asked, producing an enlarged scroll, meant for clerical work.

The seated man sighed, running a hand over his face. "Detective Curtis Cashe, Shield 172018."

The clerical man hummed, inputting the information into the scroll, before nodding to the man beside him. The second man, an elder man, hair graying and eyes sharp, sighed through his nose.

"Alright Curt." The elder man said "Tell us what happened."

Curt took a breath, steadying his nerves, then spoke.

My partner, detective Dramm, and I had been assigned patrol hours. With the Vytal Festival getting close, we're already stretched thin. All this business with the White Fang has only been keeping us more so.

"Please try and keep to the facts." The elder man spoke

Curt nodded, and continued.

The two of us were assigned extra hours on patrol. With all the extra trouble that's been happening the past few weeks, it's been keeping most of us in the precinct busy. Dramm and I had been assigned an extra shift of patrol duty, which neither of us have done in forever, frankly.

We'd been assigned a beat in the residential district, R12 specifically. It'd been getting a lot of foot traffic recently, again because of the festival, and we needed an extra car for coverage. There hadn't been much trouble in the district since that tip-off we'd gotten a few weeks back. Detective Dramm and I had been on patrol for about three hours, and had stopped to eat. There's this burger joint we'd stop at back when we worked the beat and-

"Just the facts Curt, please." The elder man reiterated

"With all due respect, Sarge." Curt answered, looking to the elder man "I'm trying to keep to the facts, but I've got to process this my own way. Please?"

The sergeant looked at the younger officer for a moment, then nodded, allowing him to continue.

Dramm and I had stopped at the place, Chopp's, and had placed our order. No sooner did we do that, than a Van came screaming down the avenue. Recognizing that they were driving erratically and well over the speed limit, we abandoned our order and took off after them. The driver of the vehicle ignored our sirens, and we were forced into pursuit. Unfortunately, in the course of the chase, the driver lost control of the vehicle and crashed. Resulting in the vehicle being wrapped around a tree, and the driver being grievously injured. We called for paramedics over the radio, and attempted to remove the driver from the vehicle. In the course of pulling the driver from the wreck, Detective Dramm was injured, and had to receive medical attention as well…

"Is that good?" Cashe asked "Did I cover all the bases?"

The elder sergeant studied the detective for a moment, then looked to the clerical officer. The younger officer nodded, swiping a finger across his larger scroll.

"It appears that will be the official story then." The sergeant sighed, taking a seat at the table, across from the detective "Now, why don't we talk about what actually happened. Because the official story is going to neglect things, like the six other passengers that'd been in the van. Or that they'd been carrying military grade weaponry."

"Or that it was a bunch White Fang, looking to do who-knows-what?" The detective asked, rubbing his face again "I could use a cup of coffee… and a smoke."

"You can get to that in a minute." The sergeant said "Let's get this done first… where do you want to start?"

The detective blew out a long breath, collecting his thoughts.

We'd just screeched around a corner, and kicked the siren on, when shit hit the fan. Being in the residential district, even that late at night, there were going to be people out. Not as many as the commercial district, but there were plenty of people out late. Enjoying the night air, partying- I don't know. Point is, there were more people out than there should've been. So having an erratic driver was bad enough. If they jumped the curb, there wasn't any telling how many people were going to get hurt. We had to have been doing, I don't know, Fifty, Sixty miles an hour? Those roads are meant to be in the mid-thirties. Trying to keep that speed on those roads… shit, it's a miracle we didn't crash.

We kept on them though, Dramm's a good driver. Always preferred him to be the wheel man back on the beat. Kept up with the van, and I think the siren was able to keep most people out of our way. Think once they knew we were coming, they knew to pay attention. Which was good… thought they were just a couple of joyriding punks.

I remember, we'd just pulled onto a straight away, going into the neighborhood over on Fifth and Rice. Instead of slamming on the gas, they started to slow down. Figured they were going to pull over before Dramm could force them off the road.

Then one of them kicked open the back door, and started waving a gun around.

It was right around then that Dramm and I realized we weren't chasing some random punks out on a joyride.

The guy in the back of the vehicle was dressed as a White Fang member. Starting to become an uncomfortably common sight around the city, how many times we've been finding them. Unfortunately, these bastards hadn't been beaten into the pavement when we found them. Honestly, I'm not sure whether or not I should be angry about that, considering how things went.

Anyway, the guy at the back of the vehicle kicks the doors open, and levels a machinegun our way. One of those military jobs you reserved for, y'know, the military, or some of those kids you see occasionally from Beacon. Gotta wonder where they get the money for that kind of hardware when we can't scrounge up the scratch to keep the damn AC on.

The sergeant nodded, smirking a little. That was a long standing issue he knew was never going to be addressed.

So, the asshole levels the weapon at the car, and starts spraying at us. Dramm's reflexes were better than mine, and he swerved us onto the pavement to avoid getting shot. The van picked up speed again after that, and we tried to keep pace after swerving back onto the road. It was around that time I reached out to dispatch over my scroll, and tried to get someone to send back-up. While I was tied up with that, Dramm focused on the White Fang. Unfortunately, every time we tried to get close to the bastards, the gunman at the back would start spraying more bullets at us. After the third burst, Dramm chose to keep us back far enough to avoid any more fire. If their driving didn't get someone killed, the stray bullets from us getting shot at would. It didn't help much anyway, just made it more difficult for him to actually hit us. Plenty of rounds still wound up hitting the car, and I heard more than a few go through the windshield. You've seen what the cruiser looks like by now I'm sure, I've seen blocks of cheese with less holes in them. Really I guess the miracle of tonight is that no one got hurt just by that first little series of exchanges alone. With the amount of fire he kept letting off, it wouldn't have been much to send it through someone's window.

After calling for back-up, Dramm and I continued to tail them. I tried once or twice to return fire, leaning out the passenger window and using my sidearm. I wound up missing each time. There's probably a few people who could shoot like that, but trying to line everything up was next to impossible. So we had to keep on like that, chasing them through Residential, trying to avoid getting shot or losing them. We couldn't have been at it for more than a few minutes, half hour at the most. Felt longer than that. We were just waiting for backup to arrive, or work on trying to block them off. Honestly thinking about it though, now that I'm decompressing, that'd have been a massacre if we'd managed to do it.

"Which has me asking-" The sergeant spoke, drumming his fingers on the interrogation table "How did that vehicle get wrapped around a lamp like that?"

"Well, the obvious answer is correct in this case sir: they crashed." Detective Cashe answered

After being in pursuit for however long we were, Dramm told me he was going to try and pit them. We both knew that was going to be dangerous, given the fire we'd been taking. But we also knew that if we didn't try and get them off the road, the situation would only escalate. So Dramm told me to brace myself, and hit the gas. The Fang at the back didn't waste the chance to light us up. I know I took a few rounds, but my aura kept me safe, same with Dramm. He got it worse though, think the Fang realized we'd been about to try and hit them, and tried to stop it from happening.

Unfortunately, things didn't go like Dramm had planned.

As we were getting within ramming distance, something intervened. The angles were kind of fucked up by where I was sitting, but I could see some of it. A glowing ball of fire came flying down from one of the nearby rooftops, smashing into the van's windshield. The angle said driver's side. Fire leapt over the roof of the van, and the driver swerved. It caused the one with the machinegun to stumble, fall out the back of the van. Dramm wound up turning him into a speed bump by accident, but last I heard he was taken to Vale General, then arrested, so at least he's not still running around.

The driver was less lucky. Dramm managed to connect with the back of the vehicle, sending the swerve into a fishtail, then a skid.

Which ended with it crashing sidelong into the lamp post, as reported.

Dramm pulled us to a halt a couple yards from it, and we both sprang from the cruiser. We had our sidearms drawn, and closed in on the driver. The driver was wearing a one of the White Fang uniforms too, so there wasn't any mistaking his involvement. We approached with about as much caution as we could afford. The first person to come out of the vehicle had started shooting at us, so we couldn't take too many chances.

It turned out to be a smart move on our part.

After a few moments, the side panel of the van slid open and at least five more people fell out of the vehicle. All wearing matching uniforms, and armed for a fight. Not looking to take any chances, Dramm and I opened fire on them as we withdrew back to the cruiser. That detail might look bad when the press gets wind of it, but we couldn't take the chance. They wouldn't have either.

The occupants' auras must've eaten the brunt of the crash, because they picked themselves up after the first few shots left our weapons. Dramm and I kept our cool, made our shots count. But we were going up against assault rifles with pistols. We managed to land a couple rounds on at least two of them, but the other three recovered, and returned fire. Dramm and I had managed to get back behind the cruiser in time. I swear it felt like at any moment a bullet was going to rip through it and nail me in the head though.

It got Dramm well enough.

In the midst of the gunfire, a bullet ripped through the car on Dramm's side, put a hole in his shoulder. One of those situations where we either stood in the open and knew the danger coming at us, or took cover and hoped it'd be enough. Didn't work for Dramm that time.

As blood started pouring down his arm, there was a sudden explosion by the van again. Didn't see this one either, had the car between us. But it was loud, bright, like having one of those mortar fireworks go off right beside your head. I know it blew out the windows of the cruiser, added broken glass to the list of Dramm's problems, set my ears ringing.

Whatever happened, it clearly wasn't part of whatever plan the White Fang had, and they ran. Booked it for the alley between two houses on the opposite side of the street. They didn't stop spraying at us, and the shuffle they moved with seemed to say it was panicked. Most of their blind fire wound up going up into the air, not sure who or where it wound up coming down afterwards.

"We were getting reports of raining lead around the same time you were reporting the situation." The sergeant spoke "No injuries, but rattled a lot of people and broke a few windows."

"Good, good." Cashe said, running a hand over his face "Small miracles."

I lost a moment checking on Dramm, but he waved me off. Told me he was fine while bleeding all over the ground. I could hear the sirens in the distance, so I knew help was on the way. I fished Dramm's scroll out and gave it him, made sure he could provide directions. After which, I ducked my head out from behind the cruiser, made sure there wasn't anyone waiting to keep us occupied. But the only Fang we found waitng for us was the driver, who'd managed to stumble his way out of the driver's seat. He was, at the time, squirming on the ground, looking like he'd wanted to claw his eyes out.

I spared precious seconds making sure he was handcuffed, then went back to the cruiser.

After retrieving our patrol shotgun from the trunk, I finally followed after the Fang in pursuit. Opening comms with Dramm so I could keep him up to date on the situation. It was bad enough this was all happening in Residential, if it started spilling into people's homes, things were only going to escalate.

Scary to think that it only took a handful of guys to do all that.

But it got scarier when I started finding their bodies.

I took off down the alley, doing my best to try and pick up their trail. It seemed a lost cause at first, I'm not a blood hound, and it was dark. Even with the flashlight from my scroll, I had trouble making out much. But after making my way down the alley, and onto the next street, I started hearing it again, gunfire. Coming from another street down.

I double timed it down the sidewalk. Immediately fearing that someone had made the mistake of getting in their way.

Then I skidded into the intersection, and found one of the White Fang lying in the middle of the street. His weapon shattered over him. That's not hyperbole either. It looked like he'd been smacked with it so hard the metal had sheered itself to pieces.

In either case, the guy was out of it, and didn't look like he was going to change.

The gunfire was still echoing further away. It almost sounded frantic, uncontrolled.

Like they were scared.

I didn't have any way to secure the perp at the time, and had to make due with reporting his location. Don't know if the boys picked him up after the fact, but it was all I could do at the time. I kept running, trying to make up the ground. Being completely honest, Sarge, even through the adrenaline I was scared shitless. We've been running around like headless chickens trying to keep pace with these assholes. Even with them on the run like they were, I wasn't favoring my odds.

"Most sane men wouldn't." Sergeant eased "If you were to tell me you weren't afraid while chasing down multiple heavily armed suspects, I'd have you recommended for a psych eval."

"No, I was definitely afraid…" Cashe said, pausing "But there was someone who wasn't."

The sergeant's eyes lit up.

I followed the gunfire as quickly as I could carry myself. I'll be the first to admit I rely too much on my aura, don't hit the gym as much as I used to. The adrenaline was helping to compensate for it, but I was getting winded.

By the time I found the second body, I was pretty well soaked with sweat, it's been hot recently.

But it clued me in finally: someone else was chasing the suspects with me. He was beating me to them too.

Crazy Steve was there.

The distant gunfire was started to make more sense.

But it also made things a lot worse. Steve, whoever he is, didn't seem to care that he was engaging in a firefight in the middle of the Residential district. At night, when most people would be home and asleep. I didn't relay that over my scroll at the time. No sense in confusing an already tense situation.

I started running after them again, pushing myself harder. We don't know a lot about 'Crazy Steve' but whenever he gets involved, we've found that bodies tend to get left behind. Living ones, which is probably the only reason we don't have him our sights as much as we do the White Fang.

"Not that we'd have the resources to worry about him anyway." The sergeant groused

The gunfire lead me down another alley, and I began seeing the carnage of the fight. No one visibly injured beyond the two White Fang I'd encountered. But casings and bullet holes littered the ground and walls of surrounding buildings. I wouldn't be surprised if we find out later that someone did get hurt in the crossfire.

"Ballistics hasn't actually finished their report yet, but damnedest thing, most of it hit the best places they could've hoped for." The sergeant cut in again "There were a few broken windows, but most of the angles point to them shooting the stronger portions of the walls. Don't know what you'd call that."

"Don't know Sarge." Cashe responded "But I don't trust that no one was hurt, not until tonight is over and done with."

"I'm not saying I do either." The sergeant nodded "Continue."

I kept chasing them for what felt like blocks. The entire time I'm hearing them be just steps ahead of me. Leaving behind a breadcrumb trail of casings and bullet holes. After a while I even started noticing signs of Dust use. Bits of frost melting off the walls and sidewalk. Little sputtering bits of flame or, in one case, a blazing dumpster. Not sure how that one came about. Whatever was happening though, it didn't seem like there was much of a coherent plan. The only thing I could tell was we were getting further and further out of the Residentials. Another block or two, and we'd have been in the Industrial district. Maybe the Fang were trying to make a break for it? I don't know.

What I do know, is we didn't make it that far.

After running for several blocks, the White Fang decided to stop trying to make a stand.

I ran down an alley between a pair of homes, and came to a privacy fence. A section of it had been smashed through. Light spilled out from the otherside, and I could hear voices. Screams.

Whatever had been happening, the worst had come to pass. People were now directly in danger.

I ran up to the fence, and avoided crashing into it. Instead, coming up beside the hole and using the fence as cover. Surveying the situation before I rushed in. The lighting was dim, mood lighting I guess. The people on the other side must've been doing some sort of party or something. The only real light in the area were those cheap wicker torches you see in grocery stores. Made everything murky, hard for me to see. Emphasis on me, I know that most Faunus don't have a problem when it comes to the dark.

But I could see the three Faunus I'd been chasing.

They had a hostage with them. A young girl, looked like a highschooler, maybe a senior. Long red hair, brown eyes, think she was in the report filed when they came to pick me up.

"Sam Wines" The sergeant affirmed "She and some friends were having a barbeque when this happened. Whatever you're about to tell me, she'd have corroborated on."

"Then I think you might know where this is about to go then." Cashe answered

When I found the White Fang, they were panicking. Honestly, I could've walked out in front of them right then and I don't think they'd have noticed me. The three of them looked like they'd walked through a minefield, and were so rattled a stiff breeze could've put them down. I almost questioned if they'd been the same guys who'd almost run me and Dramm off the road. The one who'd been in charge of the hostage was the only one who had his weapon pointed someplace it could hurt someone. The other two were frantically waving them at the sky. Searching for something.

As they were panicking, Ms. Wines tried to get free, striking her captor in the face. Her captor then struck her in the back of the head, and threatened to kill her if she tried that again. His two accomplices were still panicking, and were acutely aware that the police were going to be closing in on them before long. They quickly made plans to enter Ms. Wines residence, and make their stand there. They began forcing Ms. Wines towards the residence, to which she complied. I prepared to intervene then, knowing that Ms. Wines and whoever was within the residence were going to be in greater danger if I didn't act.

Before I could act however, I had the chance stolen from me.

Another ball of light coursed down from above us, landing in the midst of the White Fang. It exploded with a blinding flash and a deafening roar. Like having one of those Atlesian stun grenades go off in front of you.

"I'm not familiar with those." The sergeant spoke

"Watched a special on Atlesian tech once." Cashe explained "Don't know if they still use them or not, but they seemed effective."

But the ball, whatever it was, went off like one. I was left deaf and blinded for an uncomfortable amount of time. By the time I could see again, the whole situation had changed. The burst, whatever it was, had carried enough force to knock over most of the nearby torches. Further removing what little light I had to work with.

That hadn't been enough to stop Steve.

As my vision came back to me, I saw the White Fang getting their asses handed to them. Between the darkness, my ears being blown out, and being blinded, I couldn't see or hear what was happening. Not with any great level of clarity. But what little I saw of it was scary. Crazy Steve, whatever or whoever he is, he dealt with the Fang quickly. Before any of them even had a chance to realize what was happening, he'd appeared from nowhere. As my vision came back, the White Fang that'd been holding Ms. Wines hostage was laying on the ground with his arm broken in the wrong direction. He'd then moved onto the other two. By the time my vision was cleared, they'd joined the first one on the ground.

And he was standing there. Again, I couldn't see much of him, but Steve, he had to have been doing as much running as the rest of us. On top of that, it didn't look like he'd used any weapons meaning he'd charged in and physically beaten them.

He didn't even look winded.

Being completely frank, it only put me more on edge.

The darkness didn't help, but he was clearly human, or looked like one. For all I know he could've been a faunus himself. But it was hard to get a clear read on him. He had something covering him. A coat, cape maybe? For all I know it could've been a pair of wings.

He had glowing red eyes too.

Truth be told, when I first saw them, I almost thought he was a Grimm, with how he'd taken out the White Fang.

"… Really, a Grimm?" the sergeant asked

"You'd have to have seen it, sir." Cashe said "It was a knee-jerk reaction."

"There's no such thing as a humanoid grimm, Cashe." The sergeant spoke "At least, none that could get into the city."

"I know sir, but at the moment, I'd have believed I was looking at one." Cashe explained "With everything else that'd been happening, either Steve was a really capable fighter, or some sort of damn monster. In that moment, the line seemed really blurry."

The sergeant nodded, taking in what the detective was saying. "… So what happened? Clearly you didn't take him in."

"Not for lack of trying, sir." Cashe explained

After finally clearing my senses enough to react, and Steve had finished his business with the Fang he approached Ms. Wines. Ms. Wines had fallen when the burst happened. Steve kneeled down towards her, not sure why. But Ms. Wines, clearly scared out of her mind, had the presence of self to scramble backward, away from him. Steve made no efforts to try and chase, instead choosing to stand up.

Which was when I stepped in. Admittedly, too late to have made a difference now, but it was the only thing I could think to do in the moment.

I leveled my shotgun at Steve and told him to keep his hands where I could see them.

Steve… didn't comply. He just stared at me, Eyes, or whatever those things were, glowing red. I tried to get as good a look of him as I could, so we could finally put a description of him on record… but I didn't really succeed-

"You still thought he looked like a grimm, didn't you." The sergeant said

"Sir, it was dark, my adrenaline was through the roof, and I couldn't tell how much of what I was seeing was real, or just spots in my vision." Cashe defended "… But, yeah. I thought he did."

The sergeant ran a hand down his face in exasperation.

"He was definitely wearing body armor of some kind and, again, a cape or coat of some sort." Cashe explained "But it all might as well have been carapace and wings, I've got no clue what was up with his face."

The sergeant sighed "Alright, so why don't we have him here in cuffs then?"

"Aside from having already used my cuffs?" Cashe asked

I had a bead on Steve as he stood there. I could hear back-up approaching, and knew that, if Steve was going to run, he'd try to make a run for it before they got there.

Which he did.

He turned towards the nearest Fence and ran.

I fired my shotgun, hit him in the back.

He completely ignored it and kept running. Vaulting over the fence and disappearing without so much as pausing. Which was probably better for me, because If the guy could shrug off getting blasted by a 12 gauge without even stumbling, I probably wouldn't have done much more to him.

After that, I waited for back-up to arrive. The White Fang were arrested, Ms. Wines and her friends were asked to give statements, then I was brought back here.

"-And then asked to give a false report of the situation, before giving an accurate one to you, sarge." Cashe finished

"Yes, that you were." The sergeant nodded "You'll also be asked to use discretion for the time being regarding this situation."

"With all due respect sir, you realize this wasn't some small event, yes?" Cashe asked "We were all over the residential district trying to stop one vehicle. Word's going to spread fast."

"I know." The sergeant answered "But this situation is proving to be much more complicated than it appeared. Especially given what you've told me tonight."

Cashe nodded, drumming his fingers across the tabletop "… You think he's been trying to help us?"

"Who, Steve?" The sergeant asked

"Yeah…" Cashe nodded "We keep finding the places he hits, all the weapons and supplies, the White Fang too… with how tonight went, do you think it's possible-"

"More than you might think, but that doesn't change what he is: a vigilante." The sergeant interrupted "You stay on the force long enough, you find out they're more common than you might first think."

"R-right." Cashe nodded

"Whether or not he's trying to help us doesn't matter." The sergeant said "Our job is to uphold the law and maintain order within the city. Hard as that may be, it's what we're sworn to do. We're not perfect, but if we allow people to go taking matters into their own hands, chaos follows. Even if what he's doing helps us, it could just as easily become more of a hazard than it's worth. I'm sure you understand that, detective."

"Of course." Cashe agreed "Doesn't change that he's making us look like idiots."

"…" The sergeant chuckled "Wish I could argue that one."

The sergeant pulled out his scroll and opened it. His eyes flicking up to the time quickly, before closing the device. It was late, but his guest should have arrived by now. No sense in keeping him waiting any longer.

"I think that'll do, detective." The sergeant said, standing up from the table "You're free to go check on your partner, can't imagine you'll be returning to patrol tonight."

"Thank you sir." Cashe answered rising from the table. The two walked towards the door, the sergeant holding it open for the detective to leave first.

As the detective stepped out of the interrogation room, he found someone new standing close by. They were staring listlessly into the now empty room, through the one way mirror, likely observing the entire exchange. A middle-aged man, maybe somewhere in his thirties, with tousled silver hair and mossy-brown eyes behind a pair of spectacles. His complexion was faire and features sharp. Despite the warm summer night, he was dressed in a tight green turtleneck and black trousers. Black, squared off shoes immaculate, matching the bizarre, clockwork cane in his hands.

Of all the people he'd been expecting to see that evening, professor Ozpin had not been high on the detective's list. Though he also found the list to be quite lacking, given the events that had played out that night.

"Ah, good for you to be here, professor." The sergeant spoke, closing the door as he stepped out "I apologize for calling you here so late."

The professor turned to the sergeant, giving him a polite smile. "No need, Sergeant Piper, I found myself up late regardless. I'm no stranger to these call either."

"All the times you've been called here, I'd imagine not." Piper said, returning the smile. The sergeant then turned to the detective. "That'll be all Cashe, I need to speak with the professor for a moment."

"Um… of course, sir." Cashe said, dismissing himself. The detective then turned and began down the hall, elsewhere into the precinct.

Leaving the professor and the sergeant alone.

"I'll take it that you heard the whole story then?" Piper asked

"Enough of it." The professor agreed

"Then I think it goes without saying, why we called you down." Piper said

"Perhaps." The professor answered "Though it doesn't do well for the police to make informal accusations towards my students."

"It wouldn't, no." Piper agreed "Except that a precedent exists with regards to the student population of Beacon. One we can both prove as being unfortunately accurate."

"Quite." The professor admitted

"With that being said, and having the context of tonight, I will ask: Do you know who it is?" Piper asked

The professor fell silent for a moment, outwardly contemplating. It was an act, one he'd had long practice with. Important for obfuscating what he did and didn't know. The professor had known who 'Steve' was the moment he'd first heard the description. Though he'd been once again blindsided by his apparent drive and effect, the professor wasn't surprised by their identity.

However, informing the sergeant that he knew full well who was responsible for these acts of vigilante justice wouldn't do. Especially not for 'Steve'.

So he slid the mask of authority and ignorance upon himself once more, and began the dance of deception.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know who they are." The professor answered smoothly

The sergeant eyed the professor intently, inquisitive gaze searching for any cracks he could exploit. "Is that so?" Piper asked "I'd say that's quite unfit, for a headmaster."

"My academy houses hundreds of huntsmen in training." The professor defended "Anyone of whom are capable of matching the description of tonight's events. As your detective said as well, he could not get a decent image of what this 'Steve' looked like. It would hardly do to begin calling my students in simply because we wished to scrutinize their outer wear."

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The sergeant stared hotly at the professor for a moment, then sighed, resignedly "No, no it would not."

The professor nodded, turning back towards the one-way window of the interrogation room. Staring into its now empty confines. "Further muddying things: the Vytal festival is almost upon us. Students from all across Remnant are pouring into my academy in droves. I can hardly examine all of them myself, nor watch them as closely as needed."

"If I wanted to, I could probably get a warrant to search your student registry." The sergeant said "Help save you some trouble."

"But that would require you to make this an official investigation into my academy." The professor returned "One that would require both grounds and proper paperwork."

"Hm." The sergeant grunted

"If one of my students is involved in this then, I assure you, I will root them out and reprimand them." The professor said "But, otherwise, I don't believe there is anything more to be said here."

"Perhaps not…" Piper answered "Before you go though, tell me, what do you know about team STRQ?"

The professor looked at the officer for a moment. He knew STRQ well, or had at one time. Most of the team's members were no longer active, or in different capacities now. Though he was still in touch with some of them.

"I am… familiar with them." The professor admitted, cautiously "Might I ask what they have to do with this?"

"Everything." Piper answered "In academy, they drill into the rookie's heads the whole fiasco that went down with them years ago. Back when we were more worried about the Spiders, and the White Fang were their own issue."

The professor was familiar with what the officer said. It was well before Ozpin's time as headmaster. Back before the council of Vale had instituted stricter laws regarding the conduct for huntsmen in training. An upstart young woman managed to convince her teammates to prowl the city at the dead of night. Stalking the Spiders along their webs, cutting the threads as they went, and leaving them behind for the police. It hadn't been a terribly well publicized affair.

At least it hadn't been.

Then four teenagers got trapped in a cleared out bank-vault, with an anonymous tip sent to the police. After which, the issue became something of a hot topic for the people of Vale, and called into question Both the Police and Beacon. It was then ruled that huntsmen in training were to refrain from interfering in the city, and police efforts, barring extenuating circumstances. If they were caught, depending on the severity of their actions, they'd be tried almost the same those they'd interfered with. Albeit, perhaps less harshly depending on the circumstances.

Assuming they were caught.

Some students didn't really care about the council's ruling on the matter, and would take matters upon themselves as they saw fit. An unfortunate reality of raising the students to be the potential beacons of humanity that they were supposed to act as.

A recent occurrence of this was still fresh in the professor's mind. When five hunters in training were found to have prevented a large-scale dust theft at the Vale docks. The situation had been largely swept under the rug, as many of the recent incidences with the White Fang had.

"They make sure that, when we catch kids breaking that law, we ream them out for it." The sergeant said "It's the kind of behavior that undermines everyone's authority and security."

"It's also what they are raised and trained to do." The professor countered

The sergeant nodded "No arguments with that… but the law is the law, and our job's not to interpret it, only enforce it. It's the court's duty to determine the rest."

"I understand that." The professor reiterated "I do not condone it of my students either, though I find the drive admirable."

The sergeant nodded, a sad smile on his face "Good to see it, there's not enough of it anymore…" The sergeant looked the professor in the eyes. "If we wind up catching 'Steve', you understand we'll have to prosecute him, correct?"

"I am." The professor said

"It could also bring a lot of unwanted heat down on your school." The sergeant warned

"It could." The professor agreed. "Provided you can catch them and prove it."

"And if we do, you understand, there'll be nothing you can do to help them, assuming nothing drastic occurs." The sergeant added

"Naturally." The professor said

The sergeant smirked "Then the only thing left to say is, should you determine who is responsible, if anyone, you should provide some gentle encouragement. Namely, they need to quit while they're ahead… If anything changes, don't hesitate to reach out."

"Of course, Sergeant." The professor said, nodding "More than happy to help the fine people of the department."

The sergeant turned, and escorted the professor back through the maze of halls that made the precinct. Passing myriad offices and rooms, they returned to the reception area. The sergeant left the professor at the desk, and the two split. The professor walking out the front door of the building.

The wind of a fair summer's night was the first thing to hit him. The heat of the day having long since died away. Muting the smells that normally filled the city air. Even at this late hour, he found that the city was still abuzz with activity. Some of it pertaining to the incident in the residential district, perhaps. But not all of it. The rest was a product of life. Something worth protecting.

He could hardly blame his students for wanting to do what they believed was right. He'd had suspicions as well, that the sudden downturn in Vale's criminal underworld wasn't a matter of chance. However, he had not placed it high enough on his list of priorities to warrant further investigation. Most students knew the consequences for being caught performing vigilantism could become quite severe. If they were caught. After such a narrow brush with the authorities not more than a few weeks prior, it was worrisome.

Mr. Six was quite unfamiliar with the laws of the city as well. Or, at the very least, was dismissive of them. The professor could hazard reasonable guesses and assumptions as to why the, previously reserved, visitor was now suddenly involving himself. Given the apparent targets of his actions, and his team's recent history, there was no doubt a motive to it. Especially given Ms. Belladonna's own personal history.

That did not however, change that it was a dangerous game they were playing.

While the professor's actions would give the younger man time to finish whatever he was doing, it was only that, time. He had no clue what Mr. Six or his teammates were involved in, and it was not beyond him to dig into the situation a touch deeper. However, there were more pressing matters that required his attention. Ones with time limits of their own that carried far greater consequences.

Responsibility was a burden everyone needed to shoulder at one time or another.

The one currently afflicting team RWBY was their own. If the time came for them to face the consequences, they would need to do so themselves.

However, buying them time, even if only a small amount, was well within the Professor's purview.

He would just have to hope it was enough for them.

The professor pulled out his scroll and checked the time. It was late, nearly midnight. The airships had stopped running hours ago, and would not begin making trips until early the following morning. The professor himself had only been able to reach the police station by way private transportation. Something many of the students, including the courier, lacked.

Which to the professor, indicated that the young man was in the city yet.

A part of him could only marvel: where could he be now, and what else had he done?

…

Things hadn't gone as planned.

Correction, they'd been an utter shit-show.

I'd been following a lead I'd picked up from a previous stash-house. Regarding a place the Fang had on the outskirts of the residential district. At first glance it had seemed like some sort of warehouse or garage. A bit of snooping around the outside, had informed me it was actually a cab depot. An abandoned one at any rate. Most of the windows were boarded up, despite light slipping through the cracks here and there. Should've been more obvious to outsiders that something funky was going on there, considering the place was supposedly shuttered.

From the lead I'd found, the Fang were planning to use the place as a staging ground. Indicators on the map made it seem like they were going to be making multiple individual attacks from it. If they could keep it fast enough, they probably could've carried out a majority of them before relocating.

The fact that they had the staging ground at all was reason enough for me to intervene.

But the problems started almost the moment I got there.

I'd been too slow and a vehicle, a delivery van by the look of it, had just left. Rolled out of the building right as I got there. Forcing me to choose whether or not to try and chase it down, or stay, and handle the White Fang that'd taken command of the building. Ensuring that, whatever plan they had, they could carry it out with only moderate intervention from the police.

My choice was a simple one.

I was doing all of this to keep the police focused, as much as track down the White Fang. Even barring the people that'd get hurt if they succeeded, they'd keep the police tied up if I didn't get in the way.

I wound up failing.

My aura made me faster, and I could rely good enough on my endurance to keep me pushing. But I'm still human. I wasn't outrunning a car.

The White Fang wound up getting the authorities' attention not long after they broke into the Residential district. The more up-scale portion of the place too, not the middle and lower class area predominating the district. Didn't see where they'd picked up the police's attention, but it was easy enough to follow them after that. Just listen for the siren.

Then, after that, the gunfire.

I had a rough idea of the route the Fang were going to be taking. It wasn't perfect recollection, and there's a difference between seeing something on a map, and traversing the real thing. The only advantage I had over the Fang and Police was I didn't have to keep to the roads.

Once it became clear I was wasting time on the chase, I stopped following them too.

I cut my way across the rooftops to further down the line. The Fang seemed more interested in shooting at the police than driving, probably hoping to spread more Chaos, I guess.

I set-up along a straight-away, gave myself the best chance to line up a shot and be ready for a follow-up. When they came into view, I lobbed a flare right into the windshield.

Frankly, I hadn't been expecting it to work as well as it had. Though it probably helped that the cops had taken it upon themselves to try and ram the Fang off the road at the same time. The Fang wound up crashing, and tried to stand their ground after pulling themselves from the wreck. It'd been a six on two fight at the time, even if the guy in the driver's seat wasn't making any moves to get out of the car. The Fang kept the cops pinned down with rifle fire, but the crash had shaken them, I could see it. Things had started going sideways, for them and they knew that sticking around was a bad idea.

Which they figured out even more, when I lobbed a flash round into the mix.

The burst of light and sound stunned them, scared them. Opened a window into the firefight that, had the situation been different, would've been perfect for me to slip into. Instead, as soon as the fang recovered, they bolted for the nearest alley.

Which happened to be on my side of the street.

After that, it was easy enough to keep on them. They were running panicked and scared through the streets. They had guns, which complicated things, and was a bad combo with scared criminals. But I kept the pressure on them. Every time there was a crack, I hit hard and fast. Took out the first guy less than half a block away from the crash site. Came down on them from above and stole one of their weapons from them. Literally hit a guy with it so hard it went to pieces on impact. Startled the crap out of the rest of them. They took potshots at me as I returned to cover, but kept trying to escape. They had their priorities in line, despite everything.

I broke those priorities over my knee like kindling.

Took out the second guy with my cattle prod. Sent enough voltage through him to light-up Vegas neon. Immediately after, I took back to the rooftops. Having another of their guys taken out finally broke them, and the Fang started running blind.

Which was one of the more grievous failures of the night.

I'd pushed them too hard, and now they were jumping at shadows, opening fire at the drop of a hat. Bullets crashing into just about everything and anything. Mostly the various houses around us. Most of them were stone and masonry in one way or another. But that didn't mean someone wasn't going to get hurt. They weren't being discriminatory at that point, they were just mag-dumping into anything that was potentially a threat.

Right up until they got themselves a hostage.

The Fang tried to cut their way through a back lot, and stumbled across a party. I don't know how the fuck those people didn't notice all the gunfire. They had music on loud at the time, but gunfire tends to stand out. There'd been a good handful of people outside at the time, but they scattered the instant the Fang came crashing through the gate.

Except one of them. A younger girl, had to have been around Ruby's age. She got tripped up because of how close she'd been when they came calling.

I wasn't sure what to do. Hostage situations were tricky, even in the wasteland. In the best case, you can get your shots off first, kill the hostage takers before things escalate.

That wasn't an option this time.

There was three of them, all armed, and a hostage. I'd rattled them to the point that trigger discipline was basically nonexistent. One wrong move, someone was going to die. I had no quick and efficient way to take all of them out that didn't involve taking the chance of them shooting the girl. If I fucked it up, an innocent bystander was going to wind up dead because of preexisting failures.

I had no choice but to gamble.

I popped a flash round into the group of them, and started with the one that'd taken the girl hostage. I went in hard on him. Broke his arm in at least three places. The other two started firing blindly, bullets splattering against the house behind me. Glass shattered, screams echoed. Didn't know if someone'd been hurt.

I made them regret it.

I went harder on those three than I should have. It wasn't going to send a message to anyone, I was just angry, they'd given me an excuse to take it out on them. Didn't make it right.

Especially considering someone was watching.

When I finally stopped wailing on them, went to check on their former hostage, she was terrified of me. Not like I needed her to like me or anything, but it still stung. The whole situation did.

What made it worse, was that right then, right when they couldn't do jack-shit to help anymore, the police arrived. Which left me looking worse for it. I didn't bother to stick around so they could arrest me. Not when there were pressing issues elsewhere. Couldn't count on them to help me. Bastard even shot me in the back as I was running. Stung like hell, busted my aura too. But my armor is still worth something, so it didn't do much besides hurt. I didn't mind it. I had worse problems to deal with, and it just gave me more reason to be angry.

I had plenty more Fang to take it out on.

As they were about to discover.

I kicked open the door to the depot, shotgun drawn. I opened VATs, allowed myself a quick survey of the interior

It was an old building, cracked concrete and oil stains scattered and stretched across the floor like cobwebs. Poorly maintained equipment dotted the space of what I had to assume was a vehicle bay or garage. Caked with grease and grime as though it had never once been cleaned. Likely it never was. Parts and pieces lay scattered across disheveled toolboxes and makeshift tables. Cut and hacked to fit and shape. Portable lamps provide soft light where needed. There was a second van, raised up onto a lift, guts of the machine hanging out the bottom. Hand tools- wrenches, torches, grinders, and the like were littered about the place.

Interspersed evenly with five other White Fang.

All caught in startled, frozen stances. Starting to turn towards the door I'd kicked in.

Two by the Van.

Two staring at a bench with extra illumination, holding what I guessed to be documents.

One carrying a box of something, it looked like scrap, towards the two near the van.

All caught off guard.

All unarmed.

Ironic.

VATs closed, and reality sped back into motion. The White Fang began turning towards me, towards the door I'd just kicked in. Towards the shotgun I leveled at them.

I pulled the trigger, and the blast echoed through the depot. A magnum shell's worth of buckshot flew through the air, colliding with the Fang standing still with the box. It connected with his shoulder, wrenching him sideways, scattering the scrap across the floor. I cycled the action as I closed the distance, coming at him hard and fast. Couldn't give him a chance to recover. Before he even had a chance to turn towards me, I swung my shotgun around. Smashing the handle of it into the spot where his temple would've roughly been, under the hood and mask. His head wrenched aside with a howl, and I shoulder checked him, pushing him off balance. He hit the floor and started scrambling backwards.

I leveled the shotgun and blasted him at point blank.

He laid back, and stopped fighting.

The other four began scrambling into motion. The two near the van scrambling out from under the lift. The two near the document table began scrambling at the surface of it, either hastily trying to hide something or searching for it.

"What the Fuck!?" One of the Fang nearest the table barked

For no particular reason beyond hating it when people curse at me, I shifted focus to him.

I cycled the lever quickly, loosing another pair of magnums at my curser and his study mate. My curser wasn't lucky enough to avoid getting hit, toppling beneath the table, but his mate was. I immediately whipped back towards the two dumbasses near the Van, and fired my last shell. The Two Fang dove out of the way, but I hadn't aimed for them. I took half a moment to aim for the hydraulics of the lift.

Shot nicked the hydraulic line, pissing fluid everywhere and the Van crashed to the floor. Its horn blaring in the confined spaces of the depot. Annoying for me, debilitating for them.

I hadn't thought about that at the time, but it worked to my advantage.

Flipping the shotgun back over my shoulder, I bolted for the documents table. Dodging around assorted torches and tooling. The two Fang were crouched beneath it, hands clasped over their ears, animal or otherwise, in a bid to dampen the sudden assault. It left them unaware, made my job easier.

I grabbed the nearest one, a flourish of spots running up and down their arms, by the scruff of their neck. I hauled them to their feet, then slammed their face into the edge of the workbench. Then reeled them back and did it again for good measure. I then released them, and chopped a fist down onto the back of their neck, sending them back to the floor in a collapsed heap.

"Shit- SHIT!" The second shouted, a leathery eared individual, as he scrambled backwards on the floor.

I drew That Gun and fired from the hip, a pair of shots cracking off. Nailing the Fang right between the eyes. Anywhere but here, more than enough to kill a man. All it did to him was knock him onto his back, head snapping against the floor.

The distance closed between us in a single bound, and I planted my boot into his face. Full bodyweight behind it. Immediately, he joined his friend in painful slumber.

There was a clatter of metal behind me, and I immediately whipped to face it, gun raised.

One of the other two white Fang, back weighed down by some form of shell, was fumbling with one of the toolboxes. Digging through the upper drawers for something. As his hands began to rise, I saw the squared off angles of a pistol slide. Their hand wrapped over it, racking it backwards.

VATs opened and closed in a blink.

A shot cracked off from my own pistol.

Sparks erupted from the White Fang's pistol. Lead spatter caught their fingers, their off-hand jerked off the slide, and the pistol escaped their grasp. Flying behind them as they stumbled to try and grab it. I took aim as they fumbled, placed my last two shots at their head. The first catching them on the jaw, the second at the corner of their eye, snapping their head back and staggering them.

I rushed towards them, giving them as little time to recover as possible. By the time they recovered, the only thing they got to see coming was my fist. It crashed into their nose, and staggered them again. They blindly swiped their arm at me, clearly panicked and desperate to keep me back. I caught their swing on my pip-boy and pushed in, striking them in the throat. They let out a raking growl, common reaction to a throat strike, and their hand flew instinctually to their neck. As my own arm retracted from the strike, my other snapped out, whipping them in the face with the butt of my pistol. As they staggered, my off-hand shot back out, finding space in the hollow of their stomach. The Fang doubled over, and I prepared to finish them, arms rising up and together as my knee moved into position beneath their head.

Then there was feral scream, and a bolt of pain shot through my right shoulder.

The other remaining Fang, a woman, by the shape of her, with spots on her arms had found her courage. She charged in to help their friend, took a swing at me with a large wrench. She'd managed to get a lucky strike in. But that's all it was, luck.

After the first swing, now that I knew she was there, her follow-ups missed. The first attempting to strike my shoulder again, only to slide off as I twisted to one side. The second flew into the airspace of my head, which ducked low, before crashing into hers. The Second Fang reeled back and my off hand lashed out in a push, driving her back as my other hand threw That Gun back into its holster. I quickly replaced it with my cattle prod, Voltage cranked to maximum output.

The first Fang began to regain their bearings, but I couldn't have that. Close as I was then, I slammed into the toolbox they'd been rifling through, toppling the heavy steel box onto them. Another metallic crash filled the already horn filled air, followed by pained curses from the trapped Fang. They promptly began trying to free themselves, as I turned back to their still mobile friend. She'd regained her composure and stared back and forth between me and her friend for a moment. Her visible mouth creased in apprehension and fear.

Then she bared her teeth in a less than frightening snarl and came howling at me. Wrench raised and ready to strike.

I parried the wrench as it came down. The tool flew out of her hand, clattering off into the darkness of the irritatingly loud garage. The opening it left let me thrust my 'Prod forward, and the electrode contacted her chest. Her howl turned shrill, and she lost her momentum. Her knees began to buckle backwards, and I helped them along. I pushed her backwards and down, so that she collapsed onto her knees. When she hit them, I drew back my 'prod, and swung my leg out in a forward kick, catching her under the chin. She fell to her back, and I kicked her in the stomach for good measure.

'Then, there was one.'

I took a moment to breathe after that. The marathon I'd had to run trying to keep up with the Fang in the first place had already taken a bit out of me. After the run back, my arms and legs felt like lead weights. I was almost surprised at how sharp my aim still was. Wasn't sure whether to thank my aura for that or not.

After breathing, I turned back towards the last remaining white Fang, still cursing and trying to lever the toolbox off them. They'd begun to get somewhere, I could see the container beginning to angle upward. It must've been heavy, all the tools in it, plus the drawers and general size of it. It probably weighed a couple hundred pounds, easy. Something they'd probably be having no trouble with if I'd given them the chance to prepare for it. But, fair play wasn't a thing for fighting.

These bastards had hurt people tonight.

They didn't deserve 'fair'.

My boot planted itself on their chest. Instantly slamming them and the toolbox back to the floor. They could count their blessings. I could've gone for the throat.

The Fang struggled for a few more seconds, before apparently realizing the situation for what it was. They were pinned in place and not going anywhere. At the mercy of whatever psycho was currently holding them. Their head swiveled towards me, and I could see them pale almost instantly. Whether that was out of fear, or blood-loss I wasn't sure. For all I knew, they'd hurt themselves trying to lift the toolbox.

I leaned in close. The ever-blaring horn from the van starting to grate on my nerves and make my ears ring. "Fuck YOU."

My fist slammed into his head, causing it to rebound off the concrete floor. I repeated the motion twice more, for good measure. Once it was clear they weren't going to be getting back up, I took my foot off of them, and proceeded to the van. As I walked, I returned my 'prod to my side, and began calmly reloading my ammo. When I reached the van, I used Blood Nap to jimmy the food open. I knew enough about mechanics back in the Mojave to fix up a motorcycle. With tutelage and guidance from Raul, could probably do more. But I knew fuck-all about how engines worked on Remnant. But I didn't need to, really, I just needed to know what wires to cut.

There were a few connecting to what appeared to be some form of electrical cell, so I went with that. Snipping one while being careful to not contact the other terminal.

When the horn finally cut out, it was to the eternal joy of my ringing ears. It didn't have much else to be happy about that night, so I'd take solace in what I could. End of it all, I'd failed. People had gotten hurt, and the White Fang had narrowly succeeded in dragging the police into their shenanigans. Even having failed, the police would still be somewhat tied up with the havoc they had wreaked. If I'd been a little faster, I could've stopped the whole thing in its tracks. Burned the depot down before any of them could get rolling. What success I'd had was ultimately cold comfort.

I was going to need to find something to warm it back up.

I left the van, and walked back to the opposite end of the room. Being mindful not to trip over the Fang as I went, no sense in letting them get one over one me, now that the fighting was done. Though I did nearly slip on the hydraulic fluid that'd been puked everywhere. That would've been embarrassing.

I nudged the ones laying in front of the bench aside, and grabbed one of the lamps to keep it well lit. As I'd guessed, the table was covered with documents, strewn about haphazardly. Dossiers, ledgers, books, and a map, crinkled and dangling haphazardly halfway off the edge of the bench. I wasn't sure what among it was going to be useful, so I took a few moments to thumb through some of it. Most of it turned out not to be. Resources allocations, past jobs, requisitions, data of things that'd been done, but none an indicator of what it lead to. But I knew, once we had enough of it, there'd be a thread we could yank on. Somewhere amongst all the words and numbers, something was going to stand out. When it did, we'd be able to do more than run from derelict buildings to seedy bars and back alleys.

I'd be able to do more than just assault a bunch of criminals after the crime was done.

'…Fucking worthless.'

As I began to pack the papers away for later, something caught my eye. Most of the folders present were smeared with grease, and starting to get worn out. The one I was looking at however, was fresh, something new. There were a few minor smears and smudges on it, but by comparison, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Judging from where it was sitting, it must've been what the two Fang I was now looming over had been looking at. I slipped a thumb under the cover and flipped it open.

Inside the folder were a few sheets of paper, a map, and some photos. The map was of Vale, obviously, but with specific locations marked on it. Most of them seemed to edge themselves between the commercial and upper-end residential districts. Marked by numbers that, with a cursory glance, I could match up to the other sheets in the folder. Most of them seemed to be lodgings of some kind, hotels, apartment complexes, and a particularly up-scale hotel marked Webbman's Continental. Odd that was special enough to be marked on its own, odder still that it seemed to have already been scratched out.

It did not sit well, either, as I began to look at the pictures.

People.

Families, specifically.

Each picture was paper clipped or dog-eared to a corresponding slip of paper. Detailing the families in some way, names, numbers, birthdays, origins, and where they were currently staying in Vale. Most of the families were prominent ones, either locals here in Vale, or having travel in from elsewhere to attend the upcoming festival.

It was a hit-list.

I felt a chill run through my blood as I began flipping feverishly through the papers. It was scary how much information they had on most of them. Either they'd been looking to bump these people off for a while, or had very good informants. Both was the easier answer, but it didn't really matter either way. Judging from the look of papers, I had to guess the orders were still fresh. If they'd started killing the old-money of the world, I get the feeling I'd have been hearing more about it. Things like that don't have a tendency to stay quiet, and the White Fang would relish claiming responsibility.

I began scrutinizing the papers more thoroughly. The White Fang weren't strangers to giving orders out via Scroll, but they had chosen to give out physical copies this time. That seemed sloppy, and didn't sit right, but they'd made simple mistakes in the past. Nothing was outside the realm of possibility.

As my eyes scrawled down the document, I unfortunately found what I was looking for.

A time, and a place.

Tonight, and a marketplace a few blocks over.

It would be happening any minute.

"… Fucking son of a bitch!" I growled

Tonight had been a bust, but it was still young.

Things could always get worse.

I crammed the packet of papers into my coat, and bolted for the door. Pausing only momentarily to look forlornly towards the van. A part of me wished I knew how to drive. The other part of me knew that, even if I did, I'd probably get stopped by the police.

At least twice now, I could've gotten myself a set of wheels.

I missed my motorcycle.

My head shook, and I made for the door. People were dead if I didn't move.

I needed to turn tonight around.