[IC] Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

[NaraK]

I was there when the two fought.

They were brothers, both older than I was. For them, their arguments were merely bickering, jabbing at each other’s flaws to emerge as a victor. None of their arguments held words, however, because the meaning of their actions were enough to send the message. There was a mutual bond between them, no matter how angry they could get at some points, because they were both connected to one another.

Both were gifted- the only kind of this realm. And their gifts would be awe-inspiring to the current state of mankind. Creation and destruction- two gifts that defined the two from each other, but also made them inevitably connected.

The older brother was like an inventor, tinkering with things quite often. Life was his greatest joy, but it was also his greatest achievement. And life for the younger brother, too, was his greatest joy- he took no part in its existence, however. Instead, the younger brother chose to view what the older brother created, destroying what made little to no sense, or what didn’t come off as tasteful for himself.

They played with the same set of building blocks, watching life unfold steadily into something more meaningful than just creations to amuse themselves with. One would put together the blocks, and the other would focus more on ridding it of debris and unneeded blocks.

But time passed along with their amusement, as their goals grew ambitious. The two had visions unique from one another- visions the other could not understand.

They couldn’t understand what they became to one another.

A rivalry burned between them as a result, centuries of unanswered questions gone by. But one day, the two realized that in the midst of their arguments, they had refuse to work together ever since they grew more confident- prouder in themselves. Rather than work together and sorting out their differences like they always have, their vision and the unfamiliar fear of “losing” brought only harm from their dissolving harmony.

That was why they made mankind.

I watched them.

With man, their gifts had been realized as they deemed that they truly reached the epitome of their achievements. Together, they built an image that they can be proud of together. A painting, flawless to their eyes, composed of only the best of what they had culminated…

Yet, even then, I remained curious.

And only I-…

---

---

The interior of the small airship remained rather silent aside from the team inside it.

The mission was simple on paper. Something was sending traffic into the Cross Continental Transmit System, as well as radios further away from established civilizations. Team BASL was assigned to search for what appears to be the cause of the disruptions in a rather remote location further away from the establishments in Vale. Communication had become somewhat inconsistent between Vale and the other continents, as the disruptions occurred rather randomly. Whatever caused the disruptions continued to hamper with most forms of technological communication.

As such, BASL would check the area for any potential dangers first. Considering how far down the wilderness they had come, and the unknown number of Grimm in the surrounding area to begin with, the decision to keep reinforcements minimal, but efficient had been made.

There were several oddities within the mission briefing that remains a concern, the most prominent one being the fact that there were few Grimm in a place so far away. One would think there’d be a handful of Grimm, even if most of them were just Klein class, but there were almost none of them present in this exact location.

There was also the fact that approaching the location with airships reportedly jam the controls severely the closer they got. What is presumed to be an electric pulse is induced whenever an airship approaches the isolated building out in the wild, though there were reports of pilots feeling their Aura tingle whenever the pulse activated.

The building appears to be large, but not large enough to house a colossal threat. Yet, so far, nobody has entered the building itself. Only the emblem of Atlas could be found painted on the wall, though the paint appeared dry and on the verge of falling off.

Though military had naturally followed the students, all of them were to keep their ground at the team’s rendezvous point- a long walk away from the building. Getting in the way of the students was the last thing the few soldiers present would be tasked to do, and considering the fights Huntsmen got into, keeping a distance for firing range while preparing for a solid lift would be reasonably efficient.

There would be only one reinforcement that would follow BASL, though everyone in the ship seemed wary of his presence. They spoke nothing else of the boy named “Jan” aside from that he would assist in looking through every nook and cranny. He was apparently transferring into Beacon in the near future from Shade Academy.

The airship continued to make its way towards the mission site.

---

Clink.

The coin fell on the ground for the fifth time.

He sat alone in the room, with only a single bench in it. Whether he liked the room’s cramped size, nobody could know due to his expression being shadowed by his hood.

Taking out a small object smaller than the palm of his hand, he pressed on it, flipping it open. He stared intently through his messy hair.

A small smile formed on his face, but it was fleeting. Soon, it returned to his usual unreadable expression.

Putting away the small thing, he stretched his arms before leaning his lithe body against the wall behind him. As the airship began to shake, however, the coin on the ground rattled.

They were about to arrive.

Picking himself up, he plucked the coin off the ground before leaving the small room.

---

“I can’t guarantee any radios or Scrolls to work around this area,” a soldier in a standard uniform told the team. “Professor Ozpin has stated that some form of communication should an emergency arise should still be prepared beforehand, however.”

The day skies shone brightly, with trees and rocky terrain covering much of the landscape. No Grimm were seen hovering in the air, and like the reports had suggested, there had yet to be a sight of any Grimm. It wasn’t necessarily a groundbreaking sight to see places not filled with Grimm occasionally, but it was still odd to see a consistent lack of it in a single area.

The bright day suggested anything but a hard mission, but everyone knew that anything could go down in a mission with very little info.

Handing what appeared to be a small flare gun to the sky-blue-haired boy, the soldier spoke, “I’m handing two flare rounds for you to use- one blue, one red. Using either one outside will get us preparing to pick you up, so I advise keeping at least one for backup in case anything happens. Jan here will be recording anything that needs to be reported, so the four of you can focus more on the mission itself. Keeping close may be for the best.

“We will stand by looking out the area in case any Grimm show up.”

With that, the present soldiers began taking their positions as the team’s mission began.

---

The Unsettled

Sangue stared at the trees in front of them, and then at the direction of where the building was supposed to be.

Apparently, they were to cross this forest to the building. There seemed to be a circle of trees surroundings the building, hiding its presence from certain low angles.

A few steps away from the landing zone, she stuck close to her team members, fully dressed in her uniform. She had yet to put her organic hand tightened around the grip of her blade- a sign that indicates she is fully cautious. This was her first mission with her prosthetic arm present, and while she was still getting used to it, she intended on keeping its usage minimal aside from when it was truly needed.

She glanced at Jan.

The sky-blue-haired boy seemed to be equipped with a single dagger and a revolver. He didn’t seem to have any heavy equipment, donning only a hazy blue, short-sleeved hoodie with cargo pants, with a black skin-tight suit covering all of his body aside from his head. His physique in particular made him look rather vulnerable. Almost even moreso than herself, if she were to be honest. He had yet to speak to any of them, though his mannerisms made him off to be polite.

She hadn’t seen him in action, however, so she withheld any judgment about his abilities. There was little info about him to begin with, for some reason.

Sangue turned to Ben, her leader, with the intent of trailing behind him as she usually did.

_{@Krayzikk@Kaithas@Plank Sinatra}

[Guess Who]

Shipment protection

Boom! Up above in the bright blue sky, the sound of Vale's tax dollars could be heard being spent as the cargo ship's escorts blew up another Nevermore that had gotten much too close for comfort. It had been about two hours since the ship had left port from one of Vale's southern cities and the most interesting thing that had happened was the occasional "fireworks show" above. If the action so far was anything to show of how the senior's mission would go, it seemed that this would be the easiest lien they'd probably ever make in their lives.

On the ship's bridge, the coolheaded crew all seemed to be working hard at keeping the ship running in tip top shape, but as long as they had the escort above and the sonar giving them an early warning below, they felt just as bored as anyone else. In fact, things were running so well that the captain had begun wandering the top deck, looking to talk with the huntsmen-in-training that were on board his vessel. After all, these were prestigious students of Beacon already in the last year of their education. They must hear the amazing tales of his seafaring adventures so they could spread them back at school and to future generations. Taking a puff from his pipe, Captain Korallion approached whichever member of Team HTTS that was unfortunate enough to be spotted first, ready to talk their ear off about the 'good old days.'

Another possible location to waste time at, if one didn't care for watching the waves or seeing how a cargo ship is run, was the crew's quarters. Here one could instead play a game of cards with those were currently off duty and, if their luck was good enough, walk away from this mission with a nice bonus. Cheating was of course another option, though making enemies on the open water with nowhere to escape to wouldn't be the smartest move.

Finally, for those looking for solitude or to be an edgy loner, there was also the cargo hold where one could be in relative silence. It was completely empty of people and one could easily read or try to catch up on procrastinated assignments if they weren't the diligent type. It was also the deepest point of the ship other than the engine room and whoever chose to stay there would be at the greatest disadvantage if/when an attack came.

_{@NaraK@Crimmy@HereComesTheSnow}

[Crimmy]

@Lazo@Awesomoman64@Guess Who@Abillioncats

Blossoming Relationships

The airship that had arrived to pick up the members of Team STRV (name pending) was one of distinctly Atlesian manufacture, with the gleaming white steel and thin, pointed frame that was characteristic of machines built in the cold northern nation. It was not a design that was unknown to most Huntsmen, given how frequently Atlas involved itself in peacekeeping operations around Remnant, but few of the Beacon students at the Academy docks (excepting those who were actually native to the north, such as one Sand Vespa) would recognise the emblem of the Ministry of Science painted onto the nose. Rather than transporting Atlesian specialists or troops, the ship descending onto the platform was instead in service to another branch of the Atlesian government.

It was not particularly surprising, however. Given the nature of the mission and the involvement of the International Centre for the Extermination of Creatures Antagonistic to Mankind, jurisdiction would obviously fall to the Science Ministry, or to be more precise, its child organisation: the Groups for the Regulation and Application of Newly Observed or Learned Abilities and Sciences.

While improvements in Grimm extermination were obviously appreciated by the Atlesian military, they considered it an absolute necessity to first ensure the safety and reliability of anything developed by either their in-house skunkworks team or other contractors (in the military-industrial complex). As an independent, multinational enterprise, ICE CreAM was neither of these, so instead the Kingdoms would send inspectors to their facilities to make sure everything was in order. As the main source of ICE CreAM's funding, and due to their greater overall focus on technology compared to other states, it was usually Atlas that was responsible for performing inspections.

Via the Groups for the Regulation and Application of Newly Observed or Learned Abilities and Sciences, of course.

And as the members of STRV filed onto the airship and past the armoured guards that were ever-present in any Atlesian operation, they were called to the bridge to meet with a representative of the said organisation for their briefing. No time was granted for settling in. It was straight to business for them.

"You have all arrived," said the inspector, turning away from the main screen to face the Beacon students as they exited onto the white bridge. "Good, then we shall make this a quick one."

She was ... pink.

Shockingly pink.

If a certain famous pop idol were to be blessed by Zeus, she would be a perfect descriptor for how ... utterly pink the individual standing before STRV was.

From the top of her pale head to her toes, the inspector was covered entirely in pink. Her curly, platinum-blonde hair was accompanied by a braided ponytail held up by a flowery, pink bow that was clearly silk. Her blouse was white, but it was essentially hidden underneath the huge, fluffy, furred shawl that was also glaringly pink, as if the corpse of some cute animal had been draped around her shoulders. Her dress skirt, though professional in appearance, was a single shade of pink as well.

Her flats? Fortunately white. But there was still more pink to her. Her nails? Painted a bright pink. Her lips? Pink lipstick. Her earrings? Pink rose diamonds. The leash dangling around one arm? Pink. The fluffy poodle that she was embracing, one hand gently rubbing its chin? Pink and white.

"My name is Thoúlē Aristeas," she continued, caring naught for their opinions on her fashion. "I am the Atlesian Inspector that requested your presence. Our glorious mission today is to take account of what misdemeanours could be plaguing ICE CreAM's central facility, and if necessary, resolve them. We may be attacked by Grimm en route, so you may act to neutralise any threat they could pose to our quest."

[Lazo]

Wind from the arriving airship tugged restlessly at Sand’s tied hair as she waited at Beacon’s docks. The Atlesian design left little doubt as to the purpose of its presence, but it was not until she spied the Ministry of Science’s logo through squinted eyes that she glanced back at her companions, motioning them forward with a tilt of her head.

Robert was with her, as was Trad, but Grane was nowhere to be seen. The snake faunus had left earlier that week with nary a word to the rest, leaving the reasons for his departure for the others to guess. Sand herself could only think of it as the result of his friend’s death—the one I summarily replaced,she thought to herself bitterly—and the young man’s clear dislike for Robert. The departure had left her with a complicated feeling. While it was clear to her now that the young Huntsman had been considering leaving for some time, a part of her wondered if this had been a failure on her part, and if Grane would still be there with them if she had forced herself to approach him rather than waiting for a more convenient time.

In his place now was a young woman by the name of Violet, the wolf-tail and the ears sprouting from her head giving a clear clue as to her ancestry. From what Sand had seen, Violet struck her as reserved, but competent, and there had not truly been clashes between her and the rest of them so far. It was a guilty relief for her that she no longer had to deal with open animosity between team members. Having another girl on board also alleviated some mild privacy concerns she had had over the previous week, but that was not something she would openly admit.

Sand led them to the ship’s extended ramp, giving curt nods to the guards as she passed.

She had been the one to suggest this mission to the others. In part it had been because the mission description indicated that their actual participation as more than an escort was contingent on things going wrong, and as much as optimism was a rare thing for her to harbor, she wanted to leave some room for the minuscule possibility that this would be little more than a team-building exercise for this unfamiliar team of theirs. The other reason she had chosen it was because she had some experience working with people in the Atlas Ministry of Science, and seeing its participation in one of the posted missions drew her attention. Who was to say? Perhaps the inspector would be someone she knew.

Of course, when they actually came face to face with the one they were supposed to escort, she knew that was not the case.

She would have remembered that.

Even as she studiously maintained her neutral expression, she could not help but to eye the woman from head to toes. Their client looked like a real-life doll, and she could only hope the others’ ogling was nearly as discrete as her own. All she knew was that the woman—Thoúlē Aristeas—had addressed them as professionally as could be expected from an Atlas representative, and she was damned if she would be the one bringing attention to the pink elephant in the room and its pet poodle.

“Understood ma’am,” she answered curtly with a respectful nod. She would have extended a hand, but she was half-convinced the dog in the woman’s arms would try snapping at her fingers. She motioned at her group. “I am Sand Vespa and these are Trad Oak, Robert Fallson and Violet Steel. We will act as your escort for this inspection. Before we set out, is there anything we should know that wasn’t included in the mission description?”

@Guess Who@Awesomoman64@Abillioncats@Crimmy

[NaraK]

Shipment Protection

Unsurprisingly, Hana was a little angry again.

She always had some kind of valid reason to be angry. As for the length of the validity in question, that was an entirely different story, but still, she had her points.

Concerning the topic of her team members, she had quickly come to accept the fact that she would be their leader, and she would even go as far ahead to die trying to get that point across. Thankfully, despite their relatively carefree and happy selves, they weren't morons- just... really optimistic, in their own ways. She wasn't going to lie by saying it didn't ever piss her off, because it sometimes did, but not in the sense that would get her punching the dorm apart.

She blushed when she slowly noticed that she was actually complimenting her team. Pouting grumpily, she huffed as she crossed her arms and leaned against the ship.

The fiery girl seemed less angry about her team and moreso about the mission itself.

As childish as it sounded, she didn't like waiting for something that had a chance of not showing up. She... had some bad memories pertaining to the topic, but there were much less serious memories than the ones that were simply annoying to think about. The reason for her anger at the moment was more personal than something she wanted to direct towards someone, and for that, she kept it to herself. None of her team mates needed to hear her getting all riled up for the umpteenth time. No matter whether she was their leader or not, they were inevitably more familiar with each other than with her for now. She knew she had to be flexible for not just their sake, but her own as well.

The mission still ached her patience, though. Quite honestly, she felt more used to the beat-em-up side of things rather than defending objectives. While the cannons did do a bit of justice towards breaking the silence, showing her team what she's made of, as well as seeing how capable they were sounded more appealing.

Far seas greeted her, however, and everyone on her team seemed willing to wait things out.

Geez, she sighed out loud as she let her chin rest on her hand, her elbow pressed next to her arm on one end of the ship's dock. I guess I don't have to necessarily come up with something for my team yet...

...

She blushed when she remembered Taidan and Sterling walking around, smiles and all as if they hadn't casually dunked on the students that scared her or- intentionally or not- made her stumble on her own words, with Sarina casually watching them as if it were all commonplace.

...Or maybe I do!! She thought, her pout intensifying as she unknowingly scrunched up, her fiery demeanor just simply refusing to calm down. She started to resemble an angry gerbil that could neither vent its anger on anything or feel the need to bother anybody just yet.

The orange-haired girl buried the bottom half of her face into her arms as she continued to stare at the seas alone, wondering about what to have her team do, or if they really had to do anything at all at the moment.

_{@Crimmy@HereComesTheSnow@Guess Who}

[Abillioncats]

@Crimmy@Slime@Silvan Haven

Civil War

The airship that team VGGB would be riding to Mistral was noticeably...used. Not to say it wasn't functional, it simply looked like it had been through more than one skirmish. It wasn't a large aircraft, but large enough to hold a team of four plus the pilot. Speaking of the pilot, it was none other than their supervisor for their mission, Huntsman Andrew Felica. As VGGB entered the ship he looked at them from the pilot seat with a grin.

"Hey kiddos, go ahead and get settled, it's a long flight to Mistral so we'll have plenty of time to discuss things on the flight over."

--------------

@Lazo@Guess Who@Awesomoman64

Violet Steel - Blossoming Relationships -

Violet wasn't one to judge appearances, she'd grown up dealing with plenty of people judging how she looked to understand how that felt. No, the archer's focus was on something else entirely...

...that poodle.

It wasn't that Violet had a problem with dogs or anything, but this poodle...it was staring right at her! Why was it doing that!? It made Violet feel uneasy, to the point that all she could think to do was stare back right at the ball of fluff.

Her ears and tail twitched, the mutt hadn't stopped looking at her, so she wouldn't either.

[Krayzikk]

@Plank Sinatra @NaraK @Kaithas

It was weird being home.

The airship had passed right over Redwood on the way up, low enough that Ben swore he could've seen the smoke rising from the forge. They flew pretty close to Vlitra's territory, too, though the ship diverted a little to avoid actually passing too close to it. The Datura was hibernating, but its holdings were still infested with Grimm and there was no reason to chance running into any of them. But the trip didn't stop there; their course was charted to take them further northeast, past the mountains. Pretty close to the northeastern coast. That was why the disruption was such an issue, it lay along the course between Vale and Atlas. Transportation, communication, all were disrupted. According to the briefing, at least. Their transport was setting them down outside the range of that disruption. Bastille, and their one-man-reinforcement, would have to hike the rest of the way. Infiltration from then on was their problem, and their call.

Which made it Ben's call.

It was a little strange, taking over from the Atlesian military. Atlas was their ride, and their guaranteed extraction. But they were just holding the landing zone. The actual mission was Bastille's. It was how hunters and huntresses operated normally, but he hadn't quite expected to be doing it so soon. Granted, the last mission had been like this too. Unknown circumstances, little-to-no-intel, and a whole lot of unexpected developments. But it felt a little off to be wading into the thick of it with such a small group. Especially for a mission Atlas was so invested in. He'd have thought they'd insist on sending Specialists.

Seemed like his team was getting a reputation after the last mission, if he had to guess.

The thought brought more than a spark of pride to life. They could do this. They would, and he'd have a story to tell Luke when they all got back.

Any remaining discomfort vanished as soon as he was off the ship. They were back in his country. Vale was wooded, sure, and Lauren wouldn't even notice the difference. Amy wouldn't either. Sangue might, he didn't know much about the redhead's past, but they hadn't grown up in the woods like he had. One breath of the air was enough to tell. The types of trees, the terrain, the climate. It was all familiar. No curveballs here. This was home turf. His team was rock solid. The only real unknown was Jan. The boy had kept to himself, for the most part, and Ben would've preferred to know some more about him before they walked into hostile territory together. But those were the breaks. For the duration of the mission, Jan was Ben's responsibility too. Everyone who walked in walked out, after they'd solved the problem.

"Alright, folks. We're looking at about a twenty, thirty minute hike to the facility. Report says there aren't any Grimm in the area, but we didn't see any outside the facility last time, either. Plenty of places to hide in a forest. So we're going to play it safe." The Redwood native was all business, checking the lacing on his boots, making sure Joyous Guard was strapped to his back, and his replacement tonfa at his waist where he could reach them. "Sangue, I want you watching our right. Lauren, our left. Amy, I'm gonna need you watching our six. Watch your footing."

"Jan, I'm gonna want you somewhere we can walk and talk." Ben eyed the Shade student out of the corner of his eye. Just because he didn't know anything about him didn't mean there weren't any ground rules to set. His team was ready. They'd coordinate fine. But their observer needed to be on the same page. "That alright with you?"

[Guess Who]

Blossoming Relationships

---

Just like everyone else on the ship, Robert's eyes immediately fell on the brightly colored woman that was to be their chaperone for this mission. "No wait, we're supposed to be protecting her right?" he mumbled to himself, just quietly enough that no one would hear. The young man couldn't recall, after all he had only skimmed through the mission's description. Sand had told them that she would prefer this mission over the others so he trusted her judgement. Though in hindsight he realized that not reading was less trust in his team leader and more laziness on his part. Oh well.

In any case, he refocused on the inspector. Pink now seemed to have the tendency to remind him of a specific ex-teammate of his, one whose absence especially struck him with a deep yearning. He hoped he'd finally receive that first letter she promised to send when she left during Parent Day.

Fortunately the woman soon spoke, helping Robert escape from his wandering mind and bring himself back into the present. "Hmm? Did someone say ice cream?" Unfortunately, all he heard were two words that made him look more like a dog after hearing the word 'treat' then like a professional huntsmen. If he had a tail like their new teammate did, it would probably be wagging.

_{@Lazo@Awesomoman64@Crimmy@Abillioncats}

[Crimmy]

@NaraK@Guess Who@HereComesTheSnow

Shuai Taidan

"Did you know that the boatswain has a Masters in Food Chemistry?" said the breezy voice from underneath Hana. "She said she was a science-y type of person when she was younger, but then she found out that boats were her real deal."

Shuai Taidan, noted prettyboy extraordinaire, ascended upwards from the ocan with the quiet, warm hiss of his fire wheels, casually flipping over the railing in utter defiance of the laws of gravity that all other humans were subject to. It seemed that he had been flying alongside the boat earlier, only to have come back aboard upon hearing his team leader's grumblings.

[Awesomoman64]

Upon entering the Atlesian transport, the team was greeted by a woman who very well could have been a flamingo faunus. While not normally one to care about others fashion, Trad nearly did a double take upon seeing the vibrant pink lady who was supposedly an Atlas inspector. It was times like these he was glad Sand was their leader as she was able to speak up and introduce herself and everyone else without showing even a hint of astonishment.

After Sand asked if there was anything else they should know, Trad was able to snap out of his momentary state of surprise and quickly compose himself. They were on a mission after all. Even though he agreed to it solely based on how basic and routine it seemed compared to their last mission, he still needed to treat it as serious as any other.

Although that would prove to be a challenge in and of itself. As Miss Aristeas nonchalantly mentioned the facility’s acronym, Trad’s eyes once again widened in dumbfoundedness. ICE CREAM? Really? Between that and the human stick of cotton candy in front of them, Trad was starting to wonder if there was some sort of dessert trend going on in Atlas Sand didn’t warn them about.

@Crimmy@Lazo@Abillioncats@Guess Who

[Crimmy]

@Lazo@Awesomoman64@Guess Who@Abillioncats

Blossoming Relationships

"I bid you greetings then, Beaconites," said Thoúlē Aristeas, a welcome that was echoed by a quiet woof from the poodle snuggling comfortably into her arms. "And I applaud your meritorious question, Miss Vespa. I shall take this opportunity to elaborate on any details that Valic undergraduates appear to be unfamiliar with."

The airship had already risen into the air, a fact that the four individuals that made up Team Svart (SVRT) could easily observe from the clouds that were floating right outside the bridge's screens. Yet even though the journey had begun, the Inspector did not pause in her words, her only acknowledgement of their change in altitude being to nudge her poodle's attention in the direction of the windows.

"The International Centre for the Extermination of Creatures Antagonistic to Mankind is an organisation based in the south of this continent, in a territory with a greater population of Grimm than average," she continued. "Thus, those questing to their facility must acknowledge the need for strong defences if the arduous journey is to be a success."

She nodded at the team.

"That is your role. Not only will you gain experience against various Grimm, you shall also be exposed to the technologies they develop and assist me in determining whether or not they have been in breach of international protocol. You are representatives of Vale on this mission, and so you must prove yourselves to be of great worth today."

The plan had become clear:
a) Defeat Grimm on their path.
b) Investigate the facility.
c) Ensure that everything ran smoothly.

"Are there any other questions?"

[HereComesTheSnow]

@Guess Who@Crimmy@NaraK

Sterling Johnson

"Heard about that one, actually." Up strode the one-armed wonder of the crew in all of his rugged, smirking glory, doubtlessly mirthful eyes hidden behind his weather-and-locale-appropriate aviators. His arm was freshly polished and coated to resist any potential wear-and-tear from sea spray or underwater combat (basically paranoia, but it never hurt to be doubly sure about these things), and his blue bomber jacket was casually slung over a shoulder to reveal black tank and bronzing muscle beneath.

"Apparently there's a rumor the midshipmen spread around that she's memorized the contents of every MRE they serve here. Wild shit if it's true. How's the drink looking down there?" he asked, before those brown shades were turned to gaze upon a smoldering ponytail of orange.

"And what's Boss Hottie's issue?"

[NaraK]

Shipment Protection

"Eh?"

Hana stared at Taidan with a blank look. Its blankness lasted only for a brief second, however, as it grew incredulous when she wondered where he came from. That's right, the guy was capable of some flexible mobility with his equipment. Several Huntsmen seemed to carry around such equipment, and it seemed pretty convenient at times. She wouldn't ever compliment them out loud, though- it seemed awfully pointless and chummy, especially if it came from her.

His casual appearance wasn't much of an issue, though she'd be lying if she said it didn't startle her.

She blinked when she heard Sterling's voice as she glanced at him, almost unnerved at his more literal "casual appearance."

"Eh??"

A boatswain with a Master's degree in Food Chem- how did both of them know about-?

Whatever.

Well, now I know boats sure aren't my deal, she thought wryly.

These guys sure knew how to make an entrance, though.

Her silver, sunglasses-wearing teammate asked if she had an issue. Issues? Well, she had tons of issues! Heck, most of her standardized essays were just nitpicking off her issues! Most of them were just insignificant to complain about, thus she kept them all to herself. Talking about what was important had become somewhat of a focal point for her conversations, especially back at Mistral.

"I don't have an issue," she mumbled.

…

…

…

"...Okay, maybe I do," she sighed, almost uncharacteristically so. As she remembered who she was talking to, the energy within her suddenly flared as she added in, "It's nothing important though, so don't rub it in!!"

She knew they probably didn't mean any ill intent, but that didn't mean she shouldn't let her guard down! As the leader of the team, especially one so full of energy, she had no intent on falling behind that department.

Hana's flare died down a little as she turned back to the oceans, burying the bottom half of her face into her elbows again to hide her cheeks. Sarina was probably elsewhere drinking tea or something...

"Hey," she said out loud, staring down the brilliant blue in front of her with her orange gaze as she slowly lifted her face out of her elbows.

A brief pause came, her gaze softer than before. She was terrible at this whole "socializing with the team" aspect because, quite frankly, there was no room for that back in Mistral. But these guys were terrible at lying, so surely hearing her out would be the best compensation!

Not that she thought they were aware of that, but heck, she was their leader! She could talk about whatever she wanted, right?

...Right.

"You all were in Beacon for the most part, right?" Hana asked. "You ever get the feeling to just... get really impatient? So much to the point where you just want to explode with it. You better be honest!"

_{@Crimmy@HereComesTheSnow}

[Plank Sinatra]

VIVE

The four girls had each found a different use for the time they were spending waiting outside the airship. None of them were asleep, although most of the team probably wished the opposite was the case. It was Viv, awake, alert, and almost wary, who held the rest of her team to a strict command: when the team from Vale showed up, exhausted and bedraggled, they would be the definitions of poise and control. Three of those definitions, having been robbed of their beauty rest, quickly devolved into restlessness. Veronique Pressman's feet were crossed at the ankles, splotches of ink occasionally soaring up and cresting against her cheeks and nose to join the freckles there as she scribbled. Her buds were practically fused into her ears. Iris Fouquet was reading brochures for mountaineering trips along the treacherous coast of Old Mantle. Evangeline Sparr had parked in Viv's lap, braced by the team leader's reluctant hands on her sides as she continued her...

Interrogation.

"Viv, I've been thinking."

"Please get off of me."

"Don't you think they need a better term for UFOs?"

Even the other girls turned their head at that one, curious what the girl with the eggplant-colored hair and the bruised eggplant for a brain had to say on this particular topic.

"No."

"Well, think about it, Viv. What about them is really unidentified? We know they're shaped like cigars or saucers, don't we? Really, they look like submarines if you look at videos. Who says we didn't just take them and turn them into submarines? They're cigar shaped too, right?"

"We don't know if they're alien craft," Viv said wearily, as if answering the question directly would defuse her best friend's stupidity before the sparks began to shower from her cranium. "That's why they're unidentified."

"But they have several possible identities. If we have a series of hypotheses on what the flying objects could be, then at the very least we should be able to ascertain that they are, at minimum, flying craft. Just like we don't call a murderer an 'unidentified killer person,' do we? Just like we know they were killed by a person, we know a UFO is some form of craft. Making them identified in a sense, right, Viv?"

Vivianne blinked in surprise. In the darkness of the 3:00 AM hour, Evan's bright red eyes shone with curiosity - and a hint of steel.

"...I suppose that's one way to look at it," she said begrudgingly. "What brought this on?"

"Oh, I've just been thinking, Viv," Evan replied brightly, and after that she returned to nuzzling her team leader, head tucked underneath Vivianne's strongly-set chin. Veronique's eyebrows raised as her mouth set in tight amusement, and she returned to her notepad. Her sharp-featured expression was all the comment she needed to make.

Until she commented.

"You know nobody else in the world is going to be awake and functioning for a pre-dawn hit, right?" she asked the team leader bluntly. "Nobody else operates on Paranoid Cokehead Standard."

"You might think so. You'd be wrong again, bitch," Viv replied. "Our support team is captained by the Atlesian."

A pair of groans rang out from two of her subordinates.

"I saw him in combat class," Pressman protested. "He's an asshole. They probably unleash him on poor people for fun up there, those evil fucks."

"He turned into a girl in Gym," Evan mused. "First he wasn't sexy, then he was, Viv. I was confused."

"I've never seen him not look sexy." Iris grinned and made a show of licking her lips at Evan. "You're missing out on half the fun."

"He's probably a Ken doll. When he's close enough to seduce you, his programming tells him to kill. They didn't design him to actually have to fuck," Pressman mused. "Shoot your shot, Iris. Here he comes."

Viv would have taken much more satisfaction in being right if she hadn't shared a similar loathing for the boy that approached them. He had his own pair of earphones in, a pair of wireless buds that would have been hidden in his long hair were it not for their metallic sheen. His walk was brisk, like he'd been impatient for the mission to start himself. More infuriatingly, it made Viv feel as though they were the ones who were holding him up, even though they had set a hard deadline for 4:00 AM and VIVE had all assembled at the airship forty five minutes in advance. As far as she could tell, the Atlesian had come alone. He beheld all four of them, head bobbing slightly. Viv realized that he still had music playing.

She calmed herself with a low breath.

"Hello," she greeted him with cold courtesy. "I am Vivianne. I hope we work well together."

His head was still bobbing. Left and right, subtly. He hadn't stopped his music.

"Hello?"

Why wasn't he stopping his fucking music? Was something wrong with him? Could she be too quiet? No.

Jericho Piper was staring right at her. With all the lights on Beacon's helipad, one could be forgiven for thinking it was three hours later than it was. There was no way he was ignorant of her. This was just ignoring her.

Fuck's sake, he's even mouthing fucking lyrics.

Right at her face! She would be convinced it was mocking her if his face wasn't so damn expressionless. Was he retarded? His gaze had drifted away from Viv and Evan (who looked at the Gold Stripe expectantly, as if waiting for him to start shooting at random and growing curious at the prospect) and towards another member of the team.

The only other member who wore earbuds like himself. Viv felt her stomach and heart clench with fury. To say something would be to let the fascist cocksucker assert control over her team to fit his whims, but if he just kept standing there, she would wind up beheading him. Such an outcome would help nobody.

"Pressman, take those earbuds out."

Veronique Pressman's head snapped up, elfin eyes indignant.

"What, are you fucking serious?" she snapped. "I'm centering myself!"

Jericho Piper raised his hands to waist level and snapped, too. Fingers left, fingers right, fingers left, fingers right. His mouth refused to even twitch; his commitment to getting under the skin of each Mistralian girl was unfailing, even though he was meeting with mixed success. Evan had a goofy grin on her face as always, and Iris had clearly found some measure of rhythm in his motions. She mimicked them, throwing in her own finger snaps and an occasional slap on one toned, tanned thigh. Pressman hesitated, mouth curling upwards in a snarl, before she finally relented and pulled her buds out from her ears. Jericho didn't, but he instantly stopped all movement and turned his attention back to Viv.

"Team VIVE. It's nice to finally meet you. have one question," he said suddenly, speaking for the first time. His sudden turn to all business had been brusque, but at least it beat him goofing off and making the girls look like idiots.

Asshole. What does he mean, finally?

"Everything should have been in your briefing, if you read it."

"I read it on my run this morning. It was vague. What do you want crippled? The whole product? Personnel or warehouse? Are we going in light or heavy?"

Evangeline looked up at Viv expectantly, eyes wide. Viv was a second too slow in answering, mind racing to calculations even as--

"Heavy!" Evan burst out. Jericho focused his attention on her for the first time for a second before he turned to leave them, just as unceremoniously as he'd asked his question.

"That's up for discus--" she started, but of course he cut her off. Chauvinist fucking asshole. Fucking fascist. And Evan, his willing collaborator, seduced by the pair of firearms holstered to his chest. Her treachery was in the fucking blood.

"Okay," he said simply. "Heavy. Forty minutes. I'll be back."

Before the eyes of the team, he just...started to walk away. Iris began to laugh incredulously. Evan went a step further, lifting a finger gun and yelling out, "Hasta la vista, baby!" but Jericho didn't turn to acknowledge it.

Viv looked down at her mutinous best friend.

"Traitor," she grumbled.

"Grumpster." Evangeline Sparr beamed. "I like him. We're friends now."

---

@Write @HereComesTheSnow @FlitterFaux

Holy crap.

Did that just happen?

The absolute state of transfer students.

Jericho grinned as he maneuvered through Beacon's dormant hallways. In a few hours, the majority of the teams would be mobilizing for their missions, but missions required sleep and preparation. Those who weren't indulging the former would no doubt be engaged in the latter, meaning no one would be able to catch Jer expressing his pleasure with how easily his character assessment of the four girls had gone. It was hard to imagine those four princesses as his backup aboard the yacht last weekend.

For the first time in his life, he appreciated Bianca Nuit for being alive.

The second time came a minute later, after he made sure to wipe the smug smile off his face before entering his dorm. The bathroom door was closed and another bed was unoccupied, particularly the one that was most suited to a winged occupant. Bianca was no doubt showering and doing her makeup, which was just fine in Jer's book. It meant he had a few more minutes to prepare before he talked to her.

He thought he'd entered the dorm quietly, but there was no telling whether or not Bianca had heard him enter or whether she had noticed his bed was empty. She had to have. On at least one occasion he had felt a stare aimed at his bed from the direction of hers, but it couldn't be helped. The alternative was sleeping with a shirt on, which was inconceivable and uncomfortable. His mole would have been appalled.

Reaching under his bed, he half expected to feel the hair of the mole in question, camped underneath his mattress awaiting deployment orders. But there was no hair, nor the telltale grab of his fingers before he could extract them from her range. He didn't hear the telltale munching of her foraging for snacks, either. All Jer felt was a duffel bag.

That'd have to do.

He pulled the bag out and placed it upon his bed before walking over to the floorboards he'd uprooted on his first afternoon in the dorm. He began foraging himself - this time for the guns he deemed appropriate for 'heavy.'

The ones he couldn't pack, he would probably have time to dismantle now and rebuild on the plane, right...?

[Silvan Haven]

@Crimmy@Slime@Abillioncats

Vale-Civil War-Beryl Harken

"Good morning Mr. Felica." Beryl said as cheerfully as ever. Well, as cheerfully as one could be at Too Early O'Clock in the morning. There may have been a bit of a yawn in there but nothing the young Huntress would admit to. The deck plating clanked satisfyingly beneath her feet as she clambered up the ramp, one hand hauling a large carry-on pack while the other covered her mouth.

With a sigh she tossed the pack into one of the netted cargo compartments and began making sure it wouldn't go flying if their pilot decided an impromptu roller coaster ride was in order. The otter girl's movement were slow and half awake but there was a definite excitement to them. This was her second mission with her team here at Beacon. Might have been the first according to official records, there certainly hadn't been any credits awarded for their last weekend foray. Plus, Silver hadn't been around last time either. Beryl was looking forward to seeing him in action.

Despite how much she was going to enjoy being on a mission with her team she couldn't help but feel nervous about this one. Civil unrest was never pleasant. To say nothing of the fact that it drew grimm like, well like grimm to a hoard of upset angry and scared people, Beryl knew just how ugly people could be all on their own. Situations like this had a history of getting very bad very quickly.

With a relived exhale she flopped down into one of the well used seats. Turning slightly so she didn't squish or bend her tail painfully.

[Kaithas]

If she had to be honest, this was definitely not her area of expertise. Delicate operations, enemy bases--none of that was a problem for her, Atlas and military life had trained her for that and for doing it in every one of the four main kingdoms. On the flip side, computer stuff was NOT something she was good at. Which was ostensibly something Ni was supposed to cover, but due to his role in this whole mess he wasn’t coming along. Complicating matters further was the fact that she had to lead the newest team at Beacon, Obelisk. While she didn’t doubt their competence--they’d given her no reason to do so--it didn’t change that she’d have to lead an inexperienced team, something she’d not done since her Atlas days. And try to teach them at the same time.
Still, fire support and field leadership were two of the things she’d been best at before she’d become a solo operative, so this shouldn’t be--
“HEY NERDS. Pay attention, I’m only going to go through this once.”
Ni Rensa Ryou sauntered into the classroom they were using as a preparatory operations center, a smug grin on his face--one that wasn’t very convincing, admittedly, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual and his manner harried.
”Since none of you can even match the hacking skills of an underdone baked potato,” he said, looking pointedly at Rowan. ”I’ve prepared a series of USB drives with nice little packages on them that should help you, and color-coded them so even a drunk monkey could use the proper one at the proper time. The colors denote the severity of system they’re capable of breaking, but to keep you all from running rampant on the school’s systems each only has a single use. Violet’s the strongest, red’s the weakest. They’re a rainbow! So pretty.”
He proffered a ring of seven thumb drives, all of which looked to have colored stickers stuck to them. He waved them at Blaine, their plastic casings clattering against each other, waiting until the lion faunus’ eyes were following the ring, then threw them at him.
”Any additional equipment you take will be up to you and Professor Iderson. I’ll leave you to it.”
Ni left without ceremony, Rowan turning to the members of OBIS.
“I’m going to assume you all read the basic mission briefing. If not, do so--It’s on your scrolls. We’re going after some student data that was stolen from the Beacon archives, as well as some missing Armory research. It’s paramount that the data is recovered rather than destroyed or otherwise lost, so we’ll be fully on offense and recon the entire time we’re there. We do not, unfortunately, have a floor plan for the facility in question, so we’ll be flying blind once we enter. Luckily, we’ve been provided with a device that should prevent the electronic security systems from noticing us once we’re inside. That simplifies things immensely since stealth doesn’t seem to be a specialty of your team as a whole. But we’ll need to move quickly, somewhat quietly, and with a mind to eliminate or incapacitate any threats we encounter before they can evolve into something worse.”
She paused for a moment, her fingers tapping on her helmet as she held it at her hip.
“So with that in mind, this mission will have 4 phases: getting in, finding the server, data retrieval, and getting out. I’ll be providing covering fire and assistance as necessary to ensure success, but for the most part I’ll be allowing your team leader to plan for each of your individual roles. This is supposed to be a learning experience as well as something we need done, so you’ll have some autonomy with my input. Are there any questions? If not, we’ll set out.”

[HereComesTheSnow]

@Plank Sinatra@Write@FlitterFaux

Pregame

The third bed in the dorm was occupied, yes, but it was not being slept within. Three in the morning was an unreasonable hour by any metric, but by no metric was I a reasonable man, nor was I a pursuing a reasonable goal. As a prospective Huntsman, part of my life was going to involve such unreasonable hours of wakefulness and alertness as now. Fortunately for me, I had a certain knack for 3:00 AM, hand had that knack for years now.

I opened one eye to peer upon the laptop that sat at my desk, shut and charging up from eighteen percent battery.

I want the Crossbow back. Get rid of that terrible, unreliable, objectively useless thing you have the audacity to model as a FAMAS, Epic Games. And fix your netcode!

................

I never said that this experience and facility were sourced from good habits, but they would serve all the same.

I closed my eye again, and breathed deeply as Jericho returned to the room and rummaged through his stash in the floor.

"What are we in for?" I asked idly, adopting a lotus position rather than seiza. To begin with, actually sitting felt much more natural on the springy mattress surface than the knees did— and though you could make the parallel of a samurai contemplating the battle ahead...

"Heavy." came the absent, distracted grunt from our newly settled in captain, who could have only been digging up Atlesian armaments that suited that word to the utmost. While I wasn't ready to admit their TVs were worth overlooking those in Shiroyama just yet, I had to acknowledge that he'd have easily the heaviest firepower of the team.

Though those ancestral parallels were far from lost on me, I was first trying a different, more relaxed method. I was certainly heading into a tense situation, and almost definitely combat— this being a drug bust and all— and ruminating on it in such a way that increased tension could fray my nerves more than a late night ever would. That was the issue last time out, during the longest night of my life. If I acted as though I was set to go into hell, into a chaotic battlefield against a foe that stood upon their own turf, I was sure to get sucked into a spiral that only spikes of adrenaline had pulled me out of.

That being the case, I needed to learn from the experience rather than talk about it.
So.
Let's take a second and cross-examine.

Two men throw a punch at the same time. One throws with every muscle in his arm taut and tense, the other loose until the very end, at the point of impact. The first man will, every time, be the one spitting out teeth. Why is that?

Because relaxation doesn't set energy systems against eachother. The upper arm is governed by two major muscle groups, biceps and triceps. These are placed in direct opposition to one another, and the same can be said of their functions. One extends and the other contracts every time you move your elbow joint. Attempting to punch with both tensed up means both systems are at war with eachother, stiffening your arm up.

It slows you down. It exhausts you quicker. It speaks to trying to get by on muscle rather than skill, because it inherently breaks down form and uses energy that is better spent upstairs. A breakdown of training, an inability or refusal to rely upon it.

It's the first lesson anyone striking learns.

And it's applicable to a lot more than simple pugilistic form. Last week I was the metaphorical tensed punch until those instances of combat, where my mind took a back seat to the moment. Those states of flow where concerns, cowardice, and conscious thought faded to reveal simple action and reaction. Understanding of situations and flowing to fit them. Adaptation before an unending spiral of consideration.

Trust in what I could do. Understanding that I had a set of skills that could bring me to that stage with enough of a chance of survival that it was worth the risk inherent within. Trusting those skills to be enough to keep me safe. Was it possible they weren't? Yes, but that is an understood risk that I signed up for, and my own inaction would have risked everyone.

So even if I did come up short on the gamble, it would be better me than they.

This must have been a hurdle Dad had to cross, too. And unlike my blessed array of safety nets like Aura, my regenerative Semblance, and seven other similarly powerful people at my side, he only had a gun and a vest.

He trusted his training to handle whatever his wits simply couldn't in reasonable time.

And now it was my time to see if I could do the same in a live situation. Just like the ones he'd been spending 20 years walking into.

"Heavy, huh?"

Though I had to say, after four thousand characters of talk about reaching a flow state or zen where I allowed skill and hard-ingrained training to dominate split second action sequences, I was definitely going into this with a new one.

Crow's Beak. Half warhammer, half shotgun, and all told a polearm whose weight and balance I was only beginning to piece together. I'd had some experience in the past with the Bo Staff, Yari, and Naginata, so I wasn't entirely clueless, but no matter how much stock I placed in the theory of convergent evolution within fighting styles, the weighty head of this literal Bec de Corbin hadn't entirely been demystified. I was using the Thursday combat class as something of a testing ground, and it was hard lesson after hard lesson about what I could and couldn't quite yet pull off. I felt like I was starting to get there by the end, but if not...

Well.

I guessed if I got in trouble because of it, I'd really be eating crow.

[Write]

The Queen is Back

@Plank Sinatra@FlitterFaux@HereComesTheSnow

I felt a dream slip from my mind as the darkness of the room flooded my vision. It was something about flying, or, no, maybe I was falling?

Today’s the day.

I hardly gave my team a passing glance when I made my way to the bathroom, Luke who was rolled over facing the wall by this point, Skye who was still passed out and Jer – as usual, out. I fixed my blankets on my bed, snagged the clothes and requisite three options for underwear so I could judge them against each other and walked quietly into the bathroom.

The warm yellow tint of the bathroom lights washed over me as I sat down on a small stool in front of the mirror.

I had stolen a T-Shirt from Jer as a fee for joining the team late, and mostly because I wanted one of his T-Shirts. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded though, I found a few copies of the old “Atlas will indoctrinate your youth” shirt and ordered one for each of us. He was incredible at making sure we didn’t wear it on the same day, but still.

I waited,

And waited,

And waited.

But it never came. The nausea, the tears, the anger, the feeling of powerlessness. It wasn’t there.

I looked in the mirror and did not find a scared little girl in a van holding a gun. I saw… Well, me.

Bianca Nuit.

The Queen of Beacon was ready to make her triumphant debut in the field of battle!

I threw off my pajamas and leapt into the shower, making sure to wash my wings, which wasn’t that easy to do. The entire time I spent in the shower was lip synching into my shampoo microphone and dancing in the rain. After my song had ended and before the hot water ran out I made sure to hop out, the steam had begun to fog up the mirror already.

After drying off I regarded the underwear I had laid out. I considered something lacy at first, but the idea was quickly discarded, much like the bra itself. I settled for a sports bra and some underwear I had bought at a hiking store a few weeks ago. My outfit – I settled for a fairly casual denim jacket, white long sleeve shirt, torn black jeans and a pair of tan boots. The jacket and white shirt torn from shoulder blade to lower back in order to give my wings enough room to breathe.

I heard the door open, and it became clear that Jer had returned from his morning preparations I considered leaving the bathroom, but feeling a smile creep onto my lips I decided to give him a minute to relax. Sitting back onto the stool I finished up a few self-care tasks half-listening to the parts of the light conversation I could hear, only one word really making it through the door.

’Heavy’.

But I wasn’t too concerned with whatever the boys were talking about.

Walking out of the bathroom looking like a fusion of my usual self and maybe a little influence from my lovely big sister.

“Luke, Jer,” I said, smiling and tilting my head to the side a little. “Let’s do our best today – Okay?”

[Driving Park]

Iona

- Team MOBY (formerly OBIS) : Hack a Shack -

Iona sat diligently in the makeshift briefing room, leaning forward in her chair as she stared intently - yet apprehensively - at the two faculty members briefing the team. She had hurriedly read up on the mission before heading to the briefing, and it seemed like a reasonable enough assignment. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious. She would be embarking on the mission in an unfamiliar region with people she'd only known for a handful of days. And to make matters worse, she had found out just two hours ago that due to a last-minute team member reassignment, she had somehow ended up as the team leader. It wasn't that she didn't think she was up to the task - quite the contrary. It was more that the news came out of nowhere and she had no time to prepare before the first mission.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the CompSci professor went over the USB drives he had prepared, and said "Violet’s the strongest, red’s the weakest." Violet's the strongest, she thought to herself. Why yes it is, thank you for noticing.

When Rowan concluded her briefing asking of there were any questions, Iona wanted to say "Team leader huh? Next time how about a little more of a heads up, yeah?" Fortunately, she knew that Rowan had nothing to do with it and bringing it up wouldn't help anything. Besides, however hastily she received the position, she now wore it and had to prove herself worthy of the job. Piece of cake, she thought, encouraging herself.

"None from me," she replied to Rowan before looking around at her teammates. The team was obviously heavily skewed towards offense, but with Yun in the mix Iona believed at least some of team had a solid chance to be relatively covert when necessary.

[NaraK]

Team KFSC Mission: Combat Recon

---

It was a rather standard mission, yet also an odd one.

Sightings of various Grimm that usually did not gather in the particular area within the south of Vale? That usually meant that a specific cause led such Grimm into the area. Normally, Grimm that were amphibious or belonged to the plains did not simply waltz right into south of Vale because the regions were often more mountainous.

The lair was considered to be hidden within the forests of the wilderness, though it was far from impossible to miss it- approaching it, however, was a different story.

Ozpin stacked the papers in front of him as he set them aside- he'd have Glynda sort them out later. It had been a busy day not only reassigning certain teams, but also looking over some of the proposals made by his colleagues for the next Vytal Tournament. He could imagine some being rather excited for something that took years to wait for, and while he understood the excitement- well, he wasn't going to return it with just as much energy.

Turning to the rather excited Professor Port, Ozpin glanced at the hologram on his desk, which presented the face of an aged man with a beard.

"Peter, I would like your honest opinion," Ozpin spoke, staring hard at the face in the hologram.

"And what might that be?" Peter asked, his tone confident. His recommendation for putting Walter in charge of leading the students on a glorious day of slaying Grimm was one of good thought. There were no concerns from his part!

"This is the same man who bailed out of his hall duty to participate in a boat race, yes?"

There was only one concern from his part.

Coughing, Peter added in, "Bail out? No, he hasn't. But he IS rather... dedicated towards preventing his pride from deflating, which explains why he often does his work in advance.

"I would also like to add that Mr. Bridgeman, though newer among the faculty, is very trusted and has a reputation that precedes some of his more personal traits that can be subjective to public opinion. His abilities as a Huntsman is quite respectable, and I have personally allowed him to help teach some of my classes due to the increasing volume of students as of recent days."

The man smiled as he nodded to himself. "He is energetic, but a fine lad who can give quite a helping hand! I can assure you that."

Ozpin nodded. Yes, it was wrong of anyone to judge a book by its cover. Quite frankly, Ozpin knew his doubts about the energetic professor, who seemed to rival Oobleck when the right topics for conversation popped up, were more of personal opinion than facts. If anything, Mr. Bridgeman had recorded history of teaching briefly at Shade and Haven before moving to Beacon. He had a statement behind his name, so that much should've been enough to assure Ozpin that Team KFSC would be in safe hands.

Walter Bridgeman.

Putting aside his thoughts about the man, Ozpin looked forward to the team of students' success.

---

---

The airship dropped everyone off in the middle of a forest. Trees surrounded the landing site as Team KFSC pressed their feet against the healthy dirt, though the air seemed rather tense for a peaceful-looking area. It was common knowledge that almost any area of the wilderness was usually like this, because Grimm enjoyed ruining lots of things that would be great without them.

A tall man walked out of airship last as he moved past the team, carrying a small navigation device that resembled the shape and design of a small Scroll model. On its screen were several blue dots, which indicated at the team members who were behind him, and the small airship that gradually left the site. Everyone's Scrolls, for those who brought them, would technically work properly, though reception was rather terrible due to being further away from Vale's CCTS. They were supplied with small radios instead, though they were most likely not going to be used if things didn't go south.

"Hmm..."

Turning to Team KFSC, Walter Bridgeman, a Grimm Studies professor like Peter Port, let a small grin creep into his face as he spoke loudly,

"Everyone! I apologize for not being able to introduce myself, as I had been going over our routes during the ride. As you have heard in the mission briefing, I am Walter Bridgeman, and I teach Grimm Studies- but you may call me Walter. I don't do well with formalities, y'see."

Combat Recon

Pointing with one hand at what was clearly a disorderly set of trees torn down by Grimm, Walter used the other to press a button on the navigation device in his hand as a small visual hologram appeared.

"This area has a history of Beowulves and Manticores roaming around- but there have been sightings of an amalgamation of Grimm here, such as Harpies and even an Ogdoad. If my thoughts are correct, then we may confront a Bael by the end of this mission."

Turning off the hologram, Walter continued, "Observations outside of the mission site has led us to believe that environmental damage such as this has been caused by some Sitting Bulls- there is still the possibility that we may meet Nightmares instead, however, so I advise that we keep our eyes peeled to win any quick draw while we're moving. Once we find the lair, we do what Huntsmen train for.-"

His grin widened with a hint of nostalgia and pride as he finished simply, "-Annihilating monsters."

He had yet to unsheathe or load his weapon, though he expected the team to do so at this point. "As for questions, well... I'll be answering any on our merry way. If you happen to get separated, make contact via the radios. I may be older than you lot, but none of us are deaf in the ears just yet.

"Well, there's no time to lose, cause I'm already dying to get started," Walter spoke, his sharp voice booming, "Follow me, ladies and gent! Let's make this mission count. Keep an eye out for any Grimm that pop out of the trees."

The jingling of six keys attached to the ends of his coat, Walter began walking towards the flattened paths caused by the Grimm.

_{@Eklispe@Crimson Raven@SevenStormStyle@Suku}

---

Hack A Shack

Yun blinked.

Huh?

Oh.

Yeah, right, she was in a mission.

The day before had ended up being a spiral of emotions for her. First, she was reassigned to a team quite abruptly in the midst of her search. She hadn't even gotten anyone's numbers at the moment, and now she was thrown into a completely new team with very little time to get accustomed to everything.

At that moment, she realized Beacon was tough.

GEEZ, it's tough, she thought, gulping as she shook her head at Rowan's question about... questions. I better keep myself awake.

Everything sort of flew by like a violent wind, but for now, things seemed to have settled... for now.

She glanced at her teammates. There was... this blond dude who looked a little scary- no offense to him, really, but he just kinda did. He didn't seem to be a necessarily bad person, but- gosh, she just kept thinking the worst of interpretations for some reason! Then there was another guy who seemed like he was ready to run everything down with a gun, though he didn't seem like he'd point it at her any time sooner. And finally, there was a rather purple girl who had quite a bit of sass in her.

If her cousins taught her one thing, it was that sass could range from "cute" to "holy crap, can you stop." She hoped it wasn't the latter.

Her mind kept trailing back to Ferris, who seemed to wave at her with an uncharacteristically wide grin in her imagination- as if they'd never meet again for some reason. She already kinda missed that fluffy coat...

NO! Let's get myself INTO this mission, not away from it! Yun thought as she smacked her cheeks. She then suddenly let out a really bright smile, seemingly for no reason at all to the people around her.

"I'm READY!" She said in response to Rowan, pumping a confident fist. Yeah, so what if she didn't know her team that well? That didn't mean she couldn't try getting to know them eventually! She could hear an engine revving up in her mind as her motivation went up to overdrive.

_{@Driving Park@Tominas@Nevix@Kaithas}