Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The universe.
It began as an empty void, a vast nothingness stretching endlessly. Then, in a sudden flash of light, the cosmos erupted into being—settings, forces, and lifeforms sparked into existence within the once-barren expanse.

This universe cradled galaxies, vast and swirling, each a tapestry of stars and nebulae. Within those galaxies spun systems, intricate networks of celestial bodies, and within those systems orbited planets—some fortunate enough to harbor life, forged from the fundamental building blocks scattered across the void. The stars, radiant and unyielding, cast their light upon these worlds, illuminating both their surfaces and, by extension, the sprawling universe itself.

Life across these worlds was as diverse as the cosmos itself. Some species flickered into existence only to fade swiftly, too fragile to endure the trials of time. Others lingered in such obscurity that one might overlook them without a second thought, their presence barely a whisper against the grand chorus of creation. Yet, with billions of lifeforms emerging simultaneously across countless realms, evolution was inevitable. From this chaos arose complexity—organisms that transcended mere instinct, developing intricate thought processes that enabled them to master their domains. Towering beasts and monstrous predators roamed these planets, but their raw strength paled before the intellect of the dominant species. In time, these clever beings reshaped their continents, erecting sprawling cities and forging powerful factions that claimed dominion over their worlds.

Some of these thriving civilizations eventually breached the confines of their planets, venturing into the boundless frontier of space. Others, however, turned inward, consumed by conflicts that raged across their lands. It was a perennial question—whether the drive to conquer the stars preceded or followed the resolution of earthly strife—but inevitably, the most formidable groups on these planets lifted their gazes skyward. In the infinite expanse of space, they carved out new boundaries, surpassing those who remained tethered to their origins. These ascendant civilizations embarked on grand pursuits: some sought conquest, raiding neighboring worlds; others built empires, planting the seeds of new societies among the stars.

To these spacefaring travelers, the universe might have seemed the grandest expanse imaginable, a limitless stage for their ambitions. Yet, this perception was a mere illusion, a fragment of a greater truth. Beyond the universe lay realms uncounted, each a cosmos unto itself, governed by its own boundless dimensions, rules, and powers.

One such realm thrummed with cybernetic energy, where artificial beings sprang to life, their synthetic minds a menace to the world they inhabited. Another danced with dual energies—forces that some might call magic, though others would scoff at the notion—shaping the destinies of those who wielded them. In a different domain, the interplay of ink and colors birthed extraordinary powers, a spectral frontier of creativity and might. Elsewhere, a universe overflowed with abilities so vast they defied comprehension—cycles of azure fate clashed with veiled nights, where maidens of heart and shadowed warriors fought in eternal struggles that echoed through time. Another realm granted mastery over forces cloaked in darkness, their secrets murmured to those bold enough to heed them. And in yet another world, heroism blossomed into a thriving trade, its champions rising in ceaseless succession, a beacon of valor amid the stars. Across these universes, some pulsed with frenzied battles and esoteric arts, others twisted reality through the power of words or the weight of emotions, while still more bore witness to brilliant teams and enigmatic figures reshaping existence beneath kaleidoscopic skies.

Each of these universes operated in its own rhythm, business as usual, as their inhabitants contended with the threats and wonders within their multiversal domains. Yet, amidst this cosmic tapestry, a single being sought to disrupt the order. For years—perhaps eons—it had labored in secret, nurturing a vision that had at last come to fruition. Through tireless effort, it merged multiple realities into a singular, unified universe. The task had been arduous, fraught with failures, but an unseen adversary’s interference had unwittingly spurred its determination, inspiring a breakthrough. With meticulous care, it selected the elements of its favored realms, weaving them into a harmonious whole that could withstand the strain of convergence.

For now, at least, this new creation held its focus—a universe born of ambition, poised on the edge of infinite possibility.
______________________________________________________________________
The Hinobi Technologies headquarters towered over an evergreen wilderness, its sleek glass-and-steel frame cutting a sharp contrast against the untamed landscape. Nestled between the fused Anima continent of Remnant and Earth’s Pacific Rim, this remote outpost was a fortress of innovation—and secrecy. Inside, a spacious conference room thrummed with quiet tension. A long, polished table dominated the space, surrounded by three figures: Alador Storm, Adrieve Reviere, and Marvo Rod, the triumvirate steering Hinobi of America.

Alador, wiry with piercing eyes and a flair for bold ideas, drummed his fingers restlessly. Adrieve, cool-headed and meticulous, sifted through reports on glitch outbreaks. Marvo, ever the diplomat, adjusted his glasses and glanced at the door. For two decades, since the Bolypius curse unleashed digital anomalies from their games into reality, Hinobi had battled these glitches with containment tech. But now a darker threat emerged: the Grimm. Born of Remnant’s shadowy energies, these creatures seeped through cyberspace rifts, drawn to the same chaos as the glitches. For a company already fending off rivals like Ecliptica and Novacore, this was a crisis they couldn’t ignore.

Remnant’s Huntsmen and Huntresses had held the Grimm at bay, but Hinobi’s leaders saw a broader peril. A single Grimm rampage through a server farm could cripple their operations—computers, consoles, and nascent Plixel prototypes alike. Worse, the glitches and Grimm amplified each other, growing bolder with every clash. An alliance offered their best hope, and today they’d pitch it to a man uniquely suited to understand both threats: Professor Ozpin, headmaster of Remnant’s academies.

The heavy doors parted, and Ozpin entered—a younger man than legend would later depict, though his silver hair and piercing gaze carried timeless wisdom. Steam curled from the mug in his hand, his cane tapping lightly as he approached. “So, you’re the leaders of this establishment,” he said, his tone warm yet measured. “Professor Ozpin. The pleasure’s mine.”

Adrieve looked up from his reports, his expression stern. “Let’s skip the pleasantries,” he said curtly, only for Marvo to clear his throat and shoot him a pointed look.

“My apologies for our colleague’s bluntness,” Marvo said smoothly, offering a disarming smile. “We’re a bit tense.”

Ozpin waved it off, unruffled. “No need. I’ve handled worse tempers.”

Alador leaned forward, cutting to the point. “We’ve seen the Grimm’s trouble firsthand. We’ve contained the glitches—mostly—but these creatures threaten our tech, our people, and this fused world. We want to help, Professor, and we think our goals align.”

Ozpin sipped his mug, studying them over the rim. “Intriguing. Tell me more.”

Moments later, they stood in a high-tech observation chamber overlooking a sealed testing arena. Below, a glitch—a pixelated, snarling dinosaur from Smashozaurs—clashed with a Beowolf Grimm, its red eyes blazing through black smoke. Sparks flew as claws met claws, the glitch’s digital distortions warping the Grimm’s form. Technicians in white coats scrambled at control panels, screens flashing with data.

“This,” Alador said, gesturing to the chaos, “is our fight. The Bolypius curse tore open a door twenty years ago. Cyberspace spills into reality through our games, and now the Grimm are drawn to these rifts—feeding off each other.”

Ozpin’s brow furrowed as the creatures fused into a grotesque hybrid, only for a containment pulse to banish them back to their realms. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “And troubling. The Grimm thrive on chaos. If your tech’s a beacon, we’re all at risk.”

“That’s why we need you,” Marvo said, stepping closer. “Your Huntsmen understand the Grimm—how they think, how they fight. We’ve got tools to trap glitches and seal rifts. Together, we could stop this.”

Adrieve handed Ozpin a sleek tablet mapping glitch-Grimm hotspots—Vale’s fused North America, Vacuo’s deserts, Mistral’s island chains. “We’re not Ecliptica or Gemini,” he said. “Profit’s not our aim. We want to protect people—our customers, your students, everyone.”

Ozpin scrolled through the data, his face unreadable. “Noble intent,” he said finally. “But nobility carries costs. What’s your proposal?”

Back at the conference table, papers and prototypes cluttered the surface—Hinobi’s schematics mingled with Ozpin’s Grimm notes. The air buzzed with potential.

“A joint task force,” Alador explained, sketching a rough chart. “Your Huntsmen-in-training pair with our glitch teams. We’ll equip them—gauntlets, scanners, rift-sealers. You teach us to predict and counter the Grimm.”

Ozpin tapped his cane thoughtfully. “And when the Grimm adapt? They evolve faster than most realize.”

“Then we adapt too,” Marvo replied. “Our R&D’s refining Plixel upgrades. With your insight, we could target Grimm essence, not just code.”

Adrieve’s usual reserve softened. “We’ve seen corporations hoard power. Hinobi’s different—or trying to be. This isn’t control. It’s survival.”

Ozpin set his mug down, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Very well. I’ll take this to the academies. But I need assurances—your tech stays secure, and my students aren’t test subjects for unproven gear.”

“Done,” Alador said instantly. “We’ll start small—a pilot in Vale. Test the waters. But there’s more.”

Ozpin raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve uncovered other dimensions,” Alador continued. “Or at least their echoes.”

Ozpin’s eyes gleamed with recognition. “Ah, you mean the Midnight Channel, Velvet Room, Dark Hour, Dungeons, and Fog,” he said, as if reciting a list.

The trio froze. “What?!” they blurted in unison, voices tangled in shock.

Ozpin chuckled softly, tapping his cane. “Apologies. I forget how fragmented this world’s knowledge is. Let me explain.” He stepped to the window, gazing at the stormy Pacific horizon where glitch-static flickered in the clouds. “Your glitches and our Grimm aren’t alone. This fusion—Remnant, Earth, and beyond—has woven a tapestry of phenomena, tied to the rifts you’re battling.”

Adrieve crossed his arms, skeptical. “Midnight Channel? Dark Hour? That’s sci-fi nonsense, not reality.”

“Reality’s broader than you think,” Ozpin replied, turning to them. “The Midnight Channel: a hidden broadcast at midnight, reflecting the watcher’s soul—distorted, dangerous. It once pulled people into a foggy realm of shadows and willpower. That fog? It’s like the haze your glitches leave behind.”

Marvo frowned, adjusting his glasses. “So our tech’s tapping into a psychic TV dimension?”

“Not quite,” Ozpin said. “Your rifts don’t just pull from games—they bridge planes. The Midnight Channel’s fog amplifies negativity, much like the Grimm’s fuel. I’ve seen glitch-Grimm hybrids thrive in foggy zones near Vale.”

Alador rubbed his chin. “The fog’s a crossover. What about the Dark Hour?”

Ozpin’s tone darkened. “A hidden hour between midnight and dawn. Most sleep through it, oblivious. For the awake, the world twists—shadows rise, born of fear, and structures morph into dungeons—towers, labyrinths—reflecting fractured minds. I’ve walked such places. Your glitches might echo that, turning code into space.”

Adrieve’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying our Plixels create dungeons? We’ve had game levels manifest physically, but we thought it was glitch overflow.”

“Overflow with purpose,” Ozpin corrected. “The Dark Hour bends reality. Your tech might amplify it, shaping what’s already there. Then there’s the Velvet Room—a sanctuary between mind and matter, for those wielding rare power. I’ve visited its kin. It’s less a threat, more a guide, though its keepers are cryptic.”

Marvo leaned forward. “How’s that fit with Grimm or glitches?”

“Not directly,” Ozpin admitted. “But your rifts are metaphysical, not just digital. The Velvet Room sits in that liminal space. Stabilize those boundaries, and we might block worse incursions.”

Alador paced, gears turning. “You mentioned a ‘Boundary’ earlier. Related?”

Ozpin nodded. “Sharp memory. The Boundary’s raw energy—time, space, possibility colliding. Your Bolypius curse might’ve pierced it, spilling fragments—glitches, fog, Grimm essence. Your containment tech patches a cosmic leak.”

Silence fell, the weight settling in. Adrieve broke it, voice steady but tense. “So we’re not just fighting bugs and monsters—alternate dimensions?”

“In a way,” Ozpin said. “This world’s a crossroads—Remnant’s Grimm, Earth’s tech, the Dark Hour’s shadows, the Midnight Channel’s fog, the Boundary’s echoes—all entwined. You claim moral drive. Good. You’ll need it.”

Marvo ran a hand through his hair. “This is bigger than we imagined.”

The observation chamber hummed with anticipation, the rift below flickering with glitch-Grimm energy. Ozpin stood by the window, mug in hand, as the Hinobi trio grappled with the cosmic stakes. Then he spoke again.

“It always is,” he said, smiling faintly. “But that’s why we’re here—to face it together. And there’s more from my side.”

Adrieve’s composure cracked. “More?!” he sputtered, wiping sweat from his brow.

Ozpin nodded, calm as ever. “Yes. I’ve recently met someone with unique powers—and guardians. Gentlemen, meet Aurum Briers.”

The doors hissed open, and in strode Aurum Briers—golden hair shimmering like liquid light, amber eyes glowing, a sharp smile blending charm and mischief. His tailored coat bore swirling ink patterns, hinting at his domain. He moved like a showman commanding an enthralled crowd.

“Greetings, friends!” Aurum’s voice rang out, warm yet sly. “I assume you’ve met my associate.” He nodded to Ozpin, who returned a subtle acknowledgment. “The professor says you’re in a bind—glitches, Grimm, reality rifts. My kind of fun.”

Alador blinked, still reeling. “And you are?”

Aurum’s smile widened, a ripple of golden energy trailing him. “Aurum Briers, head of Lumise Academy. We train students with ink-and-color powers—artists bending reality. I call them Ink Guardians, protectors of the spectrum, wielders of primal hues.” He paused for effect. “And we’ve got a problem that matches yours.”

Marvo leaned in, intrigued. “Ink powers? How’s that tie to glitches or Grimm?”

“Simple,” Aurum said, snapping his fingers. Golden ink spiraled from his hand, forming a miniature knight with a glowing shield before dissipating. “Ink’s a conduit—liquid creativity, raw potential. My students shape defenses, weapons, illusions. But lately, darker forces are twisting it.”

Ozpin’s tone grew grave. “Nefarious groups—perhaps linked to your rifts—are wielding corrupted ink for chaos. I’ve seen it: black tendrils from portals, poisoning Vacuo villages, turning shadows into weapons. It’s akin to the Grimm’s malice—or your glitches’ unpredictability.”

Adrieve frowned, analytical. “So they’re exploiting our leaks?”

“Exactly,” Aurum said, arms crossed. “They’ve got intent—control, maybe domination. My Guardians tracked them across Mistral and Anima, but they’re elusive. Their ink reacts to your glitch zones—pooling around rifts, spawning hybrids.”

Alador’s eyes sharpened. “Hybrids?”

“Ink, glitch, and Grimm fused,” Ozpin clarified. “Tougher than any alone. The Bolypius curse likely opened this door too.”

Marvo exhaled sharply. “So we’ve got a triple threat—glitches, Grimm, and evil ink artists.”

Aurum grinned, unfazed. “Which is why I’m here. Ozpin and I agree: my Guardians, his Huntsmen, your tech wizards—we team up. My students counter the ink, your gear seals rifts, and Ozpin’s fighters tackle Grimm. A perfect trio.”

Adrieve raised an eyebrow. “What’s your stake? Hinobi’s not after glory, and I doubt you are.”

“Survival,” Aurum said, his smile hardening into resolve. “These ink-twisters threaten my academy, my students. I trained them to protect, not cower. Plus—” he winked—“I love a challenge. Keeps the colors alive.”

Ozpin stepped between them, setting his mug down. “He’s right. This isn’t just our stakes—it’s the world’s future. Hinobi’s tech, my academies, Lumise—we’re stronger united. I suggest a joint operation: track a rift, test our combined strength.”

Alador nodded, determination flaring. “Vale’s our pilot zone. Bring your Guardians, and we’ll equip them with gauntlets—see how ink and Plixels blend.”

“Done,” Aurum said, clapping his hands with a golden shimmer. “I’ll bring three of my best—ready to paint the town, literally.”

As logistics unfolded, the rift below flared, black ink curling through the glitch-Grimm chaos. Ozpin’s gaze hardened, Aurum’s smile sharpened, and the Hinobi trio steeled themselves. The alliance was no longer a concept—it was urgent.

Marvo spoke up. “We’ve also tracked relics tied to our tech—like Stratos Gear.”

“And something in Vale,” Alador added. “A strange armor, not from cyberspace.”

Aurum’s curiosity sparked. “Can we investigate?”

“Not yet,” Alador said. “The higher-ups restrict us to America.”

Aurum shrugged. “Fair enough.”

The room pulsed with restless energy. Ozpin turned from the window, mug clinking softly as he set it down, his expression shadowed by half-remembered truths.

“There’s more you should know,” he said, voice low. “This world isn’t just Remnant atop your Earth. It’s a collision of realities—kingdoms I sense but can’t fully recall. They’ve fused, yet a retcon convinces us it’s normal—Huntsmen, Grimm, and beyond.”

Adrieve’s skepticism flared. “Beyond? We’re already stretched with glitches, Grimm, and ink.”

“Much beyond,” Ozpin replied. “Remnant’s kingdoms—Vale, Vacuo, Mistral, Atlas—aren’t alone. They’ve merged with other domains. Vale blends with Firene from Engage—a peaceful kingdom of flowers. I’ve seen its knights in Vale’s forests, lances gleaming against Grimm near floral shrines.”

Marvo scribbled notes, glasses fogging. “Firene? Pastoral?”

“Yes,” Ozpin said. “Ruled by a divine dragon’s kin. Its calm might stabilize your glitch zones if we tap it.”

Alador pressed. “What else?”

“Vacuo fuses with Solm,” Ozpin continued, tone heavier. “A sunlit kingdom of freedom and dance. I’ve crossed its dunes—warriors in silks wielding curved blades and glowing rings against Grimm. Those rings pulse like your glitches.”

Adrieve scoffed. “Dancers with rings? We’re tech, not a circus.”

“Tech adapts,” Ozpin shot back. “Solm’s rings could amplify—or seal—your rifts. Then Mistral merges with Regalia from that smartphone saga—scholars warping storms, summoning beasts with devices. Its magic-tech could boost your gauntlets.”

Aurum twirled ink, grinning. “Phone wizards? I’d paint that. Next?”

“Atlas joins Yokohama Base from Chained Soldier,” Ozpin said, gaze darkening. “Chained fighters battle Grimm near icy towers with brutal strength. Their resolve mirrors your containment.”

Marvo scribbled faster. “And beyond the kingdoms?”

“The Great Tree’s labyrinth fringes Mistral,” Ozpin said. “Webs span cliffs, a spider-girl weaving against Grimm and glitches. Its chaos echoes your rifts.”

Alador processed it. “So Vale’s knights, Vacuo’s dancers, Mistral’s phone wizards, Atlas’s chained fighters, and a spider-web. How’s this help?”

Ozpin stepped closer. “These fusions aren’t random. Your curse pulled them in. Firene’s peace, Solm’s rings, Regalia’s tech, Yokohama’s grit, the spider’s webs—they’re tools. Weave them into your efforts.”

Aurum clapped, gold rippling. “A tapestry? My Guardians can splash that. Where do we start?”

“Expand Vale’s pilot,” Ozpin said, glancing at Hinobi. “Bring Aurum’s Guardians, my Huntsmen, and scouts to these zones. Test their powers with your tech. I’ll guide where I can, though the past… slips.”

Adrieve sighed, relenting. “Fine. But I want results, not fairy tales.”

“You’ll get them,” Ozpin said, lifting his mug. “This world’s a puzzle—and we’re its solvers, together.”
______________________________________________________________________
Currently in the City of Bailey, present day…

Bailey’s Tech HQ…

“So, you’re Ruby?” asked a girl with a short stature, fair skin with a slight tan, pink-tinted cheeks and nose, black eyes, and long, straight blue-violet hair with magenta sheens. Her hair was trimmed in a hime cut with blunt bangs. She wore a sleek uniform consisting of a white suit paired with white and pink sneakers, giving her a modern, tech-savvy look.

“So, you’re Miko?” replied a girl with a fair complexion, striking silver eyes, and neck-length black hair with red tips. She was dressed in a black outfit that blended combat readiness with style: a long-sleeved blouse with a high collar and red trim on the sleeves, topped by a black waist cincher with red lacing up the front and a matching skirt with red lining and a red petticoat. Thick black tights faded to red near the bottom, and she wore black combat boots with red laces, red trims around the top, and red soles. Her iconic red hooded cloak, fastened to her shoulders by cross-shaped pins, flowed behind her. A large silver emblem served as a buckle on her wide black belt, slung around her hips at an angle, with a pocket and a row of bullets attached.

“Yep! The gamer girl herself, Miko Kubota,” Miko said with a wink and a bright smile, her energy practically radiating.

“Well then, I’m Ruby Rose, rookie huntress,” Ruby replied cheerfully, giving a playful salute.

“You’re completely adorbs,” Miko chirped, suddenly pulling Ruby into a quick, enthusiastic hug.

“Oof! Uh… thanks,” Ruby stammered, caught off guard by the shorter girl’s strength. “Oh my gosh, what is that?!”

“Uh… my gauntlet?” Miko replied, tilting her head in confusion.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Ruby squealed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Ahhh… what do I do?!” Miko flailed slightly, unsure how to handle Ruby’s reaction.

“So cool! It’s such a cool-looking weapon!” Ruby gushed, bouncing on her toes.

“Weapon? Sorry, strawberry-hair, my gauntlet isn’t really a weapon—it’s kinda fragile,” Miko corrected, holding up the device to show its delicate design.

“Oh…” Ruby’s face fell slightly, but her curiosity quickly returned. “But hey, it can summon weapons, right?”

Miko grinned and tapped the screen of her gauntlet. With a flash of light, her trusty hammer materialized in her hand. “Tada!”

“Woah! That reminds me of my friend’s weapon. You know, she’s kinda similar to you. Wait—I mean—EEEEEE! Can I see it closer?” Ruby asked, barely containing her excitement.

“Of course, woop!” Miko said, holding out the gauntlet for Ruby to inspect.

The gauntlet boasted a sleek, futuristic design with a light gray or silver metallic body, accented by vibrant purple and cyan highlights that gave it a striking, high-tech appearance. Its bulky yet ergonomic structure featured a rectangular, beveled main body extending from the back of the hand to the forearm, with a smooth, glossy finish and subtle panel lines suggesting modular construction. A prominent rectangular screen on top glowed with bright cyan light, framed by a purple border and displaying a stylized "H" emblem, while additional glowing accents and a small red button on the side hinted at advanced functionality. The hand area was covered with a contrasting black, flexible material for padding, enhancing both comfort and the gauntlet’s robust, sci-fi aesthetic, perfect for combat or technological interfacing.

Ruby swiped through the gauntlet’s selection screens and menus, her eyes wide. “Woah, so cool! How do I get one?”

“Only by doing hours of tutorials at the Glitch Techs hub,” Miko sighed, rolling her eyes as she recalled the grueling process.

“Welp, that sounds horrifying,” Ruby commented, pausing for a moment. “Hey, wanna check out my weapon?”

“Wait, you have a weapon?! Does it work like my gauntlet?!” Miko asked, her voice rising with excitement.

“Err… no… well, kinda—I guess I should just show you,” Ruby said, standing up with a confident grin.

Ruby held out a red metallic, near-rectangular item, its compact form deceptively simple. Miko raised an eyebrow. “It looks kinda small. Does it—?”

Before Miko could finish, Ruby struck a pose in the middle of the room, her black and red outfit fluttering slightly as if caught in a breeze, her iconic red cloak billowing dramatically behind her. With a swift, practiced motion, she gripped the concealed weapon tucked beneath her cloak at her waist. With a subtle click, the transformation began. The rose-red frame with black trims unfolded smoothly, the metallic components extending and locking into place as the weapon shifted into its "rifle" mode. Now a medium-length, straight-pull bolt-action sniper rifle, its sleek barrel and intricate design were fully revealed, the absence of the scythe blade making it ideal for precise, long-range shots. Ruby steadied it against her shoulder, her focused silver eyes peering through an imaginary scope, her fingers deftly adjusting the bolt with confidence.

With another fluid motion, Ruby initiated the next transformation, her movements a blur of agility and grace. The rifle’s frame elongated and reshaped, the crescent-shaped scythe blade emerging with a satisfying metallic snap as Crescent Rose fully extended into its "scythe" mode. The large, curved blade gleamed menacingly, forged into a perfect crescent, while the shaft extended into a mid-to-close-range polearm. A double-pronged, jagged blade at the bottom of the shaft unfolded, adding extra cutting power for close-quarters combat. Ruby gripped the handle firmly, her stance shifting as she harnessed the weapon’s massive recoil. With a sharp pull of the trigger, a muzzle blast propelled her into the air, her cloak flaring as she spun gracefully, the recoil enhancing her mobility. Landing with precision, she embedded the scythe’s blade into the ground to anchor herself, firing rapid, accurate shots from the long-barrel sniper component without losing her balance. The weapon’s versatility shone as she alternated between slicing with the blade and shooting, her skill evident in every dynamic movement, embodying the mastery required to wield Crescent Rose effectively.

Miko gasped, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “OM-MORPG! It looks amazing.”

“Well, I made it myself. I tend to hyperfocus on gadgets and weapons,” Ruby admitted, blushing slightly.

“Hyperfocus? Hey, do you have that attention deficit hyperactivity disorder thing?” Miko asked, tilting her head.

“You mean ADHD?” Ruby clarified.

“Yeah, that! Because, well, I have it too… but I tend to focus on all things video games, and it gets me in trouble sometimes,” Miko sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“I understand. Same for me. My sister says I need to stop obsessing over weapons and focus on making friends, but… hey, I’m making progress. I’m the leader of my team,” Ruby said with a small, proud smile.

chuckles"Leader? Hard? Please, bring it on! Although..."she leans in conspiratorially"...if you're referring to dealing with people drama or stuff like that, yeah, it's tough."

Miko picks at a loose thread on her sleeve, reflecting for a moment."But gaming? Now that's where I shine. Nothing like busting caps or dodging laser beams to clear my head. And when there's teamwork involved - like our mission today - that's when it gets super satisfying."

A sly grin spreads across her face."You wanna see my mad skills in action, Ruby? Let's hit the training course and I'll show you how it's done."

"It definitely is! There are times when I just want to build more stuff or go off and fight the Grimm instead of dealing with team dynamics," she confessed with a sheepish grin. "But...I think leading by example helps. Like, showing that even though I'm socially awkward, I can still step up and protect others."

Ruby nodded encouragingly at Miko. "Hey, your quirks make you unique! And there's nothing wrong with being passionate about something. As long as you're not hurting anyone else, right?"

Her expression turned contemplative for a moment. "You know, maybe our similarities aren't just a coincidence. Maybe Fate paired us together for a reason – to help each other overcome our challenges."

“Well, I’m sorry you get it too. I have my own issues, but I’m sure you’re making progress,” Ruby said warmly, placing a hand on Miko’s head. “Trust me, it’s hard, but having my sister on the team helps. Though working with a real-life ice queen and an aloof bookworm makes it challenging sometimes.”

“Geez, sounds tough and stressful. Sorry. That’s part of why I doubt I’d be a good leader. Actually, I am—I’ve got this cool job to be a hero and the best partner in the game,” Miko smirked, flashing a toothy grin.

“Partner?” Ruby asked, intrigued.

“Oh yeah, my ultra-super-rocking friend, High Five!” Miko exclaimed.

“High Five?” Ruby echoed, confused.

“Well, usually it’s just Five. Whoops, I mean his real name is Hector, but I call him Five, and he goes by that anyway,” Miko explained with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, nicknames… pffft, Vomit Boy?” Ruby giggled.

“Vomit Boy? Well, sometimes I call Mitch—” Miko started, then stopped. “No, sorry, I meant my own friend’s unfortunate nickname: Jaune.”

“Vomit Boy… pffft…” Miko snickered, covering her mouth.

“Ha! Yeah, it came from him vomiting after he got off the ship in Vale. Though he called me Crater Face once, on account of causing a Dust explosion with me and my partner, hehehe!” Ruby laughed.

“Well, I have Meeks, but I call him Fiver back, so…” Miko shrugged.

“Speaking of which?” both girls said in unison, glancing around. “Where are those two?”

Meanwhile, nearby…

Crater Face and Meeks (Ruby and Miko’s nicknames for their friends) spotted Vomit Boy and Fiver (Jaune and Five) talking and quickly snuck over, hiding behind a couch to eavesdrop.

Two taller boys were deep in conversation about their seemingly unlucky lives. The thinner boy, Five, was tall, very slim, with fairly dark tan skin, blushed cheeks, and a puffy hairstyle with a galaxy blueish-purple/indigo hue. His slim arms and legs gave him a lanky appearance. Jaune, on the other hand, had a more stocky and toned build. He was a tall young man with fair skin, blond hair, and dark-blue eyes, exuding a mix of determination and insecurity.

“So, life seems to utterly enjoy emotionally destroying you every day?” Five asked, his tone half-joking, half-serious.

“Check,” Jaune deadpanned, his expression weary.

“Seems like you and your friend are constantly unlucky,” Five continued, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup,” Jaune mused, nodding.

“Well, you seem like my kind of guy,” Five said with a grin.

“Same to you,” Jaune replied, smiling back.

“So, what made you become a huntsman?” Five asked, genuinely curious.

Jaune paused, gathering his thoughts. “Well, I really wanted to help people. You?”

Five opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. He’d been hired after stumbling upon a glitch that one of his fellow Techs was dealing with, and he’d stopped it with the help of his rival-turned-best-friend. But he didn’t want to get into all that. “Well, obviously, same as you—to help people, of course,” he said nervously, forcing a smile.

“Err… okay. Well, I decided to become a hero like my grandfather,” Jaune admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, I wanted to help my grandparents,” Five confessed, his voice softening. “That’s why I was so happy to get this job—to help them out, considering we run the fort and everything.” He looked down, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Okay… well, I think we’ll work well together. I’m kinda the rookie around Beacon,” Jaune said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I get it. Me and Miko are the D-team of the branch—at least, that’s what Phil calls us,” Five admitted with a wry smile.

“Well, at least you’ve got people on your level. Sometimes I feel like I’m the load of my group,” Jaune sighed. “My teammates are pure competence compared to me. I mean, I have the straight-up invincible girl on my team…”

“Wow, tough. Well, at least you don’t have to deal with the best tech of the division, Mitch Williams,” Five said, rolling his eyes.

“Mitch Williams?” Jaune asked, frowning.

“Yeah, in short, he’s a major jerk. It’s pretty obvious once you meet him,” Five sighed, shaking his head.

“Welp, that’s the complete opposite of Pyrrha. I mean, she apologizes for simply picking me up wrong,” Jaune said, chuckling bitterly.

“Pfft… if Mitch ever apologized, it would be snowing tomorrow. Simply put, he never admits to anything,” Five grumbled.

“Sorry, dude. Well, speaking of my friends, I need to get going—my team should be arriving soon,” Jaune said, standing up.

“Ahhh, sorry for keeping you. Good luck figuring everything out around here,” Five waved as Jaune left.

“Woah, glad you made a friend, Five!” Miko’s voice suddenly piped up from under a nearby table.

“Woah… errr, how long have you been under there?!” Five exclaimed, jumping slightly.

“Uhhhh, I dunno,” Miko replied casually. “But look, I made a friend!” She pointed at the short redhead girl hiding with her under the table.

“Yeah, I see you met my friend Jaune,” Ruby smirked deviously, crawling out from under the table.

“Zoop!” Miko rolled out dramatically, striking a pose. “This is Ruby Rose, a rookie huntress.”
“Hey,” waved Ruby.
“I guess you already know who I am but I’m Five,” responded Five, shaking her hand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Ruby said cheerfully, shaking Five’s hand with an enthusiastic grip. Her silver eyes sparkled with excitement as she glanced over his shoulder. “Oh hey, look—it’s my team!”

Five raised an eyebrow, adjusting his galaxy blueish-purple hair as he followed her gaze. Miko, still buzzing with energy beside him, peeked around Ruby with a wide grin. “More friends? Sweet! The more, the merrier!”

Emerging from the bustling hallway of the Tech HQ were three figures: a tall, confident girl with long blonde hair and lilac eyes, a stoic girl with amber eyes and a black bow atop her head, and a graceful, white-haired girl with icy blue eyes and a sharp demeanor. Team RWBY had arrived, and the energy in the room shifted instantly.

“Ruby, there you are!” the blonde, Yang Xiao Long, called out, her voice brimming with warmth and a hint of mischief. She strode forward, her ember-colored eyes locking onto Miko with a spark of recognition. “And who’s this pint-sized bundle of energy? You look like my kind of person!”

Miko’s eyes lit up as she bounced on her toes. “Me? I’m Miko Kubota, gamer extraordinaire and Glitch Tech! You must be Yang—I can tell by the awesome vibe and that hair. It’s, like, fire-engine cool!”

Yang laughed, her trademark confidence shining through as she ruffled the gamer girl’s head. “Right back atcha, short stuff! Love the enthusiasm. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle? ‘Cause I’ve got a feeling you’d rock on the back of my Bumblebee.”

Ruby’s eyes widened, and she clapped her hands together. “Oh my gosh, yes! Miko, you have to try riding with Yang! Bumblebee’s the best—it’s like flying, but louder and way cooler!”

Miko grinned, imagining the thrill. “Motorcycles? Sign me up! Back home, we’ve got Cloud, our family dog—a white Great Dane with brown patches. He’s huge, but he’d probably love a ride too. Does your bike handle big dogs?”

Yang smirked, crossing her arms. “Bumblebee can handle anything. But wait—your dog’s name is Cloud? That’s adorable! Ruby, doesn’t that remind you of Zwei?”

Ruby nodded eagerly, her red-tipped black hair bouncing. “Totally! Zwei’s our corgi—he’s small but fierce. He’d probably try to challenge Cloud to a bark-off.”

The two girls dissolved into giggles, already planning a pet playdate, while Five exchanged a bemused look with the quieter members of Team RWBY. Blake Belladonna, standing slightly apart with her arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with a mix of curiosity and exasperation. Her amber eyes narrowed as she muttered under her breath, “How does my life keep getting weirder?”

Weiss Schnee, ever the picture of poise, stepped forward, her icy blue gaze assessing Five and Miko with a critical eye. “Ruby, who exactly are these people? And why are they here disrupting our mission briefing?”

Five scratched the back of his neck, his lanky frame shifting awkwardly under Weiss’s scrutiny. “Uh, hi. I’m Five—er, Hector, but everyone calls me Five. And this is Miko. We’re Glitch Techs. We deal with, uh, glitches in tech and virtual reality stuff.”

Weiss’s eyebrow arched, and she crossed her arms, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Glitches? What, like software bugs? Hardly seems relevant to our fight against the Grimm.”

Five blinked, caught off guard by her tone, but before he could respond, Ruby jumped in. “No, no, Weiss, it’s super cool! Five and Miko fight these digital monsters that mess with people’s games and tech. It’s kinda like how we fight Grimm, right?”

Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ruby, Grimm are tangible, physical threats—nightmares made flesh. These ‘glitches’ sound like child’s play.”

Miko, never one to back down, stepped forward with a defiant smirk elbowing the white haired-girl. “Oh, trust me, ice queen, glitches can be just as nasty. They can possess tech, trap people in virtual worlds, or even mess with reality if they get strong enough. Five and I have seen some crazy stuff.”

Weiss’s eyes narrowed at the “ice queen” comment, but before she could retort, Five chimed in, his voice steady but nervous. “She’s right. Glitches are like… digital parasites. They feed off code and can cause real damage. We use our gauntlets to track and neutralize them.” He tapped his sleek, futuristic gauntlet, its cyan and purple lights flickering.

Blake tilted her head, her interest piqued despite herself. “So, you’re saying these ‘glitches’ are like a technological version of the Grimm? Unpredictable, destructive entities?”

“Exactly!” Five said, relieved to find common ground. “Except they’re not born from darkness or negative emotions like Grimm. They’re more like errors in the system that gain sentience.”

Weiss, still skeptical, folded her arms tighter. “Fascinating. But I fail to see how this compares to the Grimm, which require strategy, skill, and Aura to defeat.”

Ruby, ever the peacemaker, grinned. “Well, Five and Jaune actually get along really well! They were just talking earlier about how they both want to help people. Isn’t that sweet, Weiss?”

Weiss’s expression was a bit confused for a split second before hardening again. “Jaune? That oaf? If this Five character is anything like him—clumsy, overly optimistic, and perpetually out of his depth—I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised they’ve bonded.”

Five flinched, the comparison stinging more than he expected. “Uh, I’m not that bad, I hope. Jaune’s a good guy, though. He mentioned you guys a lot. Said you’re all super competent.”

Weiss’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she masked it with a haughty sniff. “Of course we are. Someone has to be.”

“Sorry guys, Weiss can get bent out of shape a lot,” chirped Ruby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” sputtered Weiss.

Yang, sensing the tension, slung an arm around Miko’s shoulders. “Aw, c’mon, Weiss, lighten up! Miko and Five are cool. Hey, Miko, you gotta meet Ally and Alpha—our glitch pets. They’re like, totally badass.”

Miko’s eyes widened. “Wait, you guys have glitch pets too? No way! Five, show ‘em Alpha!”

Five hesitated, then nodded, tapping his gauntlet. With a burst of digital static, a small, pixelated creature materialized—a stocky, golem-like entity with glowing red eye and jagged, metallic edges. Alpha model boasts a bulky, armored frame with a muted gray and brown color scheme, featuring a glowing red eye and a prominent white "α" symbol on its right shoulder, suggesting a rugged, battle-ready design suited for harsh environments like the desert backdrop. This adaptation gives it a distinctive role, blending the imposing, heavy-duty aesthetic of a golem-titan-esque thing with a more unconventional, rider-based operation, enhancing its unique presence in comparison to the more organic looking pets.. “This is Alpha. He’s my partner in fighting glitches. Super loyal, but he can be a handful.”

Miko followed suit, summoning her own glitch pet, Ally, a vibrant, bird-like creature with red shifting colors and erratic movements. “And this is Ally! She’s fast, sneaky, and lives for speed—which is perfect for me.”

Team RWBY stared, jaws dropping. Ruby let out another squeal. “EEEE! They’re so cute and weird! Kinda like Zwei when he gets into the Dust crystals!”

Blake’s ears twitched under her bow, and she muttered, “This is officially the strangest day of my life.”

Weiss, recovering her composure, stepped closer to inspect the glitch pets. “Fascinating… but still not as formidable as summoning Grimm. Allow me to explain. Grimm are creatures of darkness, born from the negative emotions of humanity. They’re relentless, intelligent in their own way, and require Aura, Dust, and teamwork to defeat. They’re not some digital anomaly you can just ‘delete.’”

Five nodded, impressed. “That sounds intense. Glitches aren’t born from emotions either, but they can adapt and evolve. We use tech and strategy to outsmart them, but yeah, it’s not the same as fighting physical monsters. I mean we’ll probably get information from our respective instructors.”

Yang grinned, already warming up to the idea of this little adventure. “You know, I could get used to this. Miko, you and I are gonna tear it up on Bumblebee. Five, you should tag along too—maybe you can upgrade the bike with some of that glitch tech!”

Miko pumped her fist. “Heck yeah! Imagine Bumblebee with a turbo boost or a glitch shield! Cloud would be so jealous.”

Ruby clapped her hands. “And Zwei could ride in the sidecar! Oh, this is gonna be the best team-up ever!”

Blake sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m surrounded by optimists and chaos magnets.”

Weiss, despite herself, cracked a small smile. “As long as no one crashes my plans—or my dignity—this might not be a complete disaster.”

Five and Miko exchanged a look, their shared history of mishaps and triumphs giving them confidence. “Don’t worry,” Five said. “We’ve handled worse. Right, Miko?”

“Totally!” Miko agreed, striking a pose. “We’re Glitch Techs—bringing order to chaos is what we do!”
______________________________________________________________________
Merlot’s Island, situated somewhere in the middle of nowhere, was a place only the exceedingly brave or foolish could ever hope to find. There, shrouded in isolation, stood the remnants of the now-defunct and despised Merlot Industries. After the catastrophic Mount Glenn incident—partly caused by the industry’s reckless actions—the company was shut down and vilified by the public. The disaster stemmed from the delusional obsession of its leader, Dr. Merlot, who believed genetic experiments could control the Grimm. This not only cost him the respect of his peers, including Ozpin, but also attracted hordes of Grimm, which overwhelmed the area, killing nearly everyone, including, presumably, all of Merlot’s employees. All that remained was the empty tower of Merlot Industries, abandoned to time alongside its founder. Though no one ever found Dr. Merlot’s body, people assumed he had become Grimm fodder.

How wrong they were.

Years later, unknown to the public, Merlot Industries was secretly rebuilt on the island. Ironically, after all his failures, Merlot had succeeded in developing a serum that could control the Grimm. Unfortunately, his goals had devolved into obsessive experiments on the creatures and grandiose delusions of establishing a new order under his rule in Remnant.

The island was located in an uncharted region and housed a sprawling laboratory complex. Many of the complex’s walls were lined with pipes, cameras, and computer screens. Most of the floor tiles were hexagonal, with some concealing deadly spikes to impale intruders. Multiple radio towers dotted the island, enabling communication with the CCT network. Metal fences and large wooden stakes were planted throughout, while the exterior featured a dock surrounded by crates and barrels.

The island teemed with Grimm, Merlot’s mutant Grimm variants, and his security robots. It naturally produced a mysterious radioactive substance that Merlot harnessed for his mutating serum. Toxic pools of this ooze were connected by pipes that funneled it to the laboratory. The terrain was predominantly sandy, with desert-like vegetation, though Merlot had long been experimenting with a similar substance derived from Melt Dust crystals—a secret known only to him.

The laboratory, covered in gleaming pipes, pulsed with energy as it channeled the mutant serum between chambers. Merlot’s obsession with hexagonal shapes was evident in the building’s design and decor, with screens displaying global updates and the island’s new developments. Despite its resources, the facility relied heavily on stolen materials, a necessity after losing nearly all its manpower and revenue in the Mount Glenn disaster. Traces of corruption lingered, though no one dared to speak of it. What remained were a few loyal cronies, ample stolen supplies, robots, weaponry, and explosives—enough to continue where Merlot had left off.

Screens in the lab also displayed numerous contacts from allies Merlot had cultivated over the years, along with signatures tracking something unknown. The doctor had been busy indeed. The serum was either stored or used to transform regular Grimm into mutant versions under his control.

At the heart of the complex stood the man himself. Dr. Merlot was an elderly figure with disheveled gray hair, a matching mustache, beard, and prominent eyebrows. His left eye was a glowing red robotic implant, surrounded by claw marks likely inflicted during Grimm experiments. His right arm, dark and metallic with red inner circuits, was also mechanical. He wore a light gray jacket with a high collar over a red shirt, each sleeve adorned with a dark gray hexagonal pattern.

Seated at a table with him were his two new allies: Doctor Kyudai Garaki, also known as "Daruma Ujiko" and "Doctor Tsubasa," and the regal Relius Clover.

Garaki was a portly, short-statured older man, completely bald with a large, bushy mustache. He wore peculiar gear-shaped goggles and a white, buttoned-up lab coat. Relius, tall and well-built with spiky blond hair and a short chinstrap beard, was distinguished by his gold and black domino mask, which he wore constantly. His attire included a fine purple shirt, white pants, white gloves, and a white cravat topped with a purple jewel. Tall purple boots with golden buckles and silvery cross-shaped adornments completed his look, along with a purple cloak featuring a huge collar, held by a cross-shaped buckle, and two metal rings at the hem. The cloak’s interior was green.

Merlot sat at the table, straightening his posture, and spoke in a polite, affable tone to his guests as he sipped wine from an elegant glass. “It is a pleasure to meet both of you in person. Unfortunately, my other associate couldn’t join us today.”

Relius, seated with impeccable posture, his golden mask reflecting the dim light, barely glanced at his untouched wine glass before returning his attention to the scroll in his hand. The faint hum of Ignis, standing silently behind him, underscored his words. “Yes, though it is no problem at all,” he replied, his voice smooth and detached as he adjusted a setting on his device. “Such absences are mere variables in the grand equation of our endeavors. I find the company of intellect far more stimulating than the trivialities of attendance—though I must concede, your choice of glassware is... aesthetically passable. Shall we dispense with pleasantries and proceed to matters of substance, or is there some ritualistic value in this vintage that escapes my analysis?” His masked eyes seemed to pierce through Merlot, as if evaluating another potential subject for experimentation, though for now, he deemed him a worthy ally.

Garaki, sitting nearby with a glass of wine he hadn’t touched, offered a wide, almost overly friendly smile, his glasses glinting as he leaned forward slightly. “No problem at all indeed,” he chimed in, his tone polite but tinged with eagerness. “My master, you see, is similarly preoccupied—undergoing his own delicate procedures in a secure location. But rest assured, our presence here is more than sufficient to advance our shared interests. Your hospitality is most appreciated, Dr. Merlot, and this wine...” He paused, lifting the glass briefly before setting it down untouched. “Well, it’s a fine distraction, but I suspect we all have bigger experiments in mind. Shall we discuss the potential of our collaboration, or is there more to this meeting that requires... a lighter touch?” His smile widened, betraying a flicker of mischief, as if already plotting how to turn this gathering to his advantage.

“As I proposed,” Merlot began grandly, “our collaboration, spurred by the Mistress of the Dark, offers a near-infinite supply of serum for the Grimm and your own experiments. The Forge has also agreed to collaborate, ensuring you’ll have all the technology you need. In return, I would appreciate your assistance with my own work, including teaching you the intricacies of the Grimm.”

Relius leaned back slightly, his golden mask gleaming under the dim light, his scroll still in hand as Ignis loomed silently behind him. His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, but carried an undertone of intrigue and superiority. “A most compelling offer,” he mused, his fingers pausing over the scroll as if weighing the variables. “The Grimm, you say? Beings of chaos and instinct, yet ripe for refinement—a canvas for true evolution. Your serum and the Forge’s technology are merely tools, but in my hands, they could elevate this crude material into something approaching perfection. I accept your proposal, Dr. Merlot, not out of allegiance to your ‘Mistress,’ but for the promise of knowledge. In return, you shall witness the art of alchemy and magic applied to your... lesser creations. Consider it an exchange of expertise. The intricacies of the Grimm? I shall dissect them thoroughly—both figuratively and, if necessary, literally.” His lips curled into a faint, chilling smile, as if already envisioning the experiments to come.

Garaki, sitting nearby with his usual wide grin, adjusted his glasses and clapped his hands together softly, his excitement barely contained. “Oh, a brilliant proposition indeed!” he exclaimed, his tone polite but tinged with a manic edge. “The Grimm, you say? Such fascinating specimens—raw power, unbridled chaos, perfect for my master’s vision of dominance. Your serum and the Forge’s resources will be invaluable, Dr. Merlot, and I’m certain my own research into quirks and enhancement can offer you insights in return. My master thrives on such synergies, and I’m more than eager to explore how these creatures might serve our greater goals. Teach us of the Grimm, and we shall teach you the limits—and breaking points—of life itself. A fair trade, don’t you think? For the Mistress of the Dark and beyond!” His eyes sparkled with a mix of deference and calculation, as if already plotting how to turn this collaboration to All For One’s advantage while satisfying his own curiosity.

“Perfect,” Merlot said, tapping on his scroll. Green cybernetic portals opened, and Relius and Garaki stepped through with ease.

Alone now, Merlot typed on his screen. “Ahh, this world has so many resources for new projects, but I wonder what became of my favorite project,” he mused, scanning the many locations in search of it.
______________________________________________________________________
The crisp air outside Hinobi HQ in Bailley carried a faint hum of machinery and the distant chatter of the city. Phil Altiere stood near the entrance, arms crossed, his stone-faced expression as unreadable as ever. Beside him, Qrow Branwen leaned against a lamppost, his red tattered cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze, a flask half-hidden in his hand but unopened. Auburn, the tall, muscular stockman with purple hair and yellow-pupiled eyes, loomed nearby, his arms folded and a scowl etched deep into his features, like a storm cloud ready to break.

The three men had just stepped out for a breather after a tense meeting inside, where Phil had laid down the law. Now, the conversation turned to their rookies—and the no-alcohol rule that had already ruffled Qrow’s feathers.

“First rule of HQ,” Phil had stated earlier inside, pointing to BITT, who chirped in its mechanical voice, “No alcoholic beverages.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Qrow had snarked, his faded red eyes narrowing. Now, outside, he shook his head, the stubble on his jaw catching the light as he muttered, “Still can’t believe this. What am I supposed to do, sip water like some kinda teetotaler?”

Phil’s gaze didn’t waver, his deadpan delivery as firm as ever. “It’s non-negotiable. We’ve got kids—Five and Miko—running around here. Professional gamers, sure, but they’re still the D-Team of this branch. Last thing I need is them tripping over a glitch and a beer bottle. I care about them, even if my face doesn’t show it. Miko knows that, respects it. But their antics?” He sighed, a rare crack in his stoicism. “They’re always pulling some stunt that makes me question why I’m still here.”

Qrow took a swig from his flask—then stopped, remembering the rule, and capped it with a groan. “Sounds familiar,” he drawled, his voice laced with cynicism. “Back in Vale, I told Ruby and Yang—my nieces, Pipsqueak and Firecracker—‘Sure, you may be acting like Huntresses, but you’re not thinking like one. You really think four girls and their friends could end all crime in a Kingdom?’ Naive as hell, just like your duo. They’ve got heart, sure, but they think they can punch their way out of everything. Takes years to learn otherwise.”

Auburn snorted, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. “Sounds like Grey,” he grumbled, kicking at a loose pebble on the ground. The purple-haired stockman’s yellow eyes narrowed, his gruff tone softening only slightly with concern. “Kid’s strong—damn near unstoppable in a fight—but he’s a fool. Thinks he can take down every villain, solve every problem single-handedly. No skill, no strategy, just raw power and ignorance. Like some kinda super-weapon kid who’s never seen the real world. Reminds me of... well, someone I’d call ‘nephew’ if he wasn’t so damn stubborn.” He shook his head, his scowl deepening. “He’s like that Silver kid from those Sonic stories—strong, but no clue how to play the long game. Or Kris from that game, always biting off more than he can chew against foes way out of his league. I keep tellin’ him, ‘Kid, you’re gonna get yourself killed,’ but he just nods like he’s listening and then charges off again.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, his expression still flat but his voice carrying a hint of agreement. “Sounds like a pattern. Five and Miko think they’re hotshot glitch-busters, but half the time they’re causing more chaos than the glitches themselves. I’ve got BITT on their tail, but it’s like herding cats with laser pointers.”

Qrow chuckled darkly, shoving his flask into his cloak pocket with reluctance. “Fine, no booze. Guess I’ll have to drown my sorrows in coffee or something. But if your D-Team or my Pipsqueak start whining about ‘saving the world,’ don’t say I didn’t warn you. Kids these days think they’re invincible.”

“Sounds like Grey,” he rumbled, his voice booming like a storm tearing through the valley as he sent a pebble skittering into the shadows with a vicious kick. “Kid’s got a mind sharp enough to cut glass, sure—can scribble plans that gleam on paper like they’re gold, like he’s the only one who sees the truth. But he hates himself more than any enemy ever could, and that’s the rub. Thinks his ideas could work if he just bleeds for ‘em hard enough, no care for the wreck he’ll make of himself to prove it. He knows he’s got gaps wide as canyons, says he’s learnin’, but he’s grabbin’ the wrong lessons, twistin’ ‘em into knots that’ll snap back and bite. All raw power and half-dead pride, thinkin’ if he just grits and charges, the world’ll bend. Like some kinda broken knight, all stone face and sharp tongue, playin’ games with his own life. He’s like a nephew I’d pity—if he didn’t keep pokin’ the fire just to watch it burn.” His scowl carved deeper, yellow eyes flashing like a warning flare. “I’ve laid it out clear, ‘Kid, you’re drownin’ in your own shadow, thinkin’ pain’s proof you’re right. You see the lessons, but you’re learnin’ lies. You’ll run headlong into ruin, callin’ it victory, and I can’t watch you laugh while you bleed out.’ He just nods, all cold and quiet, like he’s in on some joke I ain’t gettin’, then off he goes, same deadpan daredevil, trollin’ fate itself.”

Phil nodded, a rare flicker of approval in his eyes. “They’ll figure it out. Or they won’t. Either way, no shortcuts—and no drinks. Deal’s still on the table, Qrow.”

Qrow sighed, running a hand through his spiky graying hair. “Deal. But if I start quoting buddy cop lines from those shows Phil’s into, you’ll know I’m losing it.” He smirked, but there was a glint of respect in his faded red eyes. “Guess we’re all just babysitting geniuses who think they’re gods.”

“Well…that’s one way of putting it,” mused Phil sipping his coffee.

“So you can turn into a bird,” casually asked Auburn to Qrow.

Both men spit out their drinks.
______________________________________________________________________
Speaking of Gray…
Walking into the brightly lit headquarters of Bailey Glitch Techs HQ, four boys from Lumise Academy made their entrance, each exuding a distinct presence as Huntsmen and Ink Guardians. Grey stood as a steadfast figure, his round head topped with short, gray hair now slightly tousled, hinting at his readiness for action. His light cyan uniform was sleek and functional, featuring an armored chest plate adorned with a lighter green emblem where a simple patch once sat. The jacket, fitted and practical, had reinforced gray shoulder pads and subtle accents that underscored his muted, no-nonsense demeanor. His dark gray pants flowed seamlessly into sturdy, metallic-sheen combat boots, unified in color and design, with a utility belt cinched at his waist holding pouches for essential gear. Slung across his back was a compact, collapsible sword-staff hybrid, a weapon that mirrored his reliable and grounded personality. As a Huntsman, Grey exuded a quiet strength, his simple design transformed into the understated garb of a warrior.

Beside him, Prism cut a striking figure, his round head crowned with white, fluffy hair, now tousled and secured with a headband to keep it out of his eyes during battle. His guardian outfit was a bold red jacket, accented with white trim and lightweight armor plating on the shoulders and forearms, the chest bearing a green emblem that echoed his original patch. His dark blue pants transitioned smoothly into glossy, armored boots with red stitching that tied the look together. A white capelet fluttered behind him, adding a dash of flair that complemented his cheerful expression. At his side rested a dual-purpose scythe-rifle, a vibrant and versatile weapon that reflected his optimistic and energetic spirit. As a Huntsman, Prism’s bright colors and expressive style made him a beacon of enthusiasm on the battlefield.

Casey, on the other hand, embodied a wild, nervous energy, his black, spiky hair swept back in a chaotic sweep that amplified his dynamic yet anxious Huntsman persona. His outfit featured a black jacket with jagged edges, revealing a multicolored inner lining of yellow, pink, and cyan when open, paired with armored gauntlets for protection. The chest sported a stylized multicolored emblem, a nod to his original vibrant shirt. His dark black pants blended seamlessly into dark blue combat boots with reinforced soles, offering a solid contrast to the kaleidoscope of colors above. Coiled around his waist was a chain-sickle weapon, its unpredictable design mirroring his restless nature. As a Huntsman, Casey’s rebellious edge and varied palette painted him as a chaotic force, ready to unleash his nervous energy in combat.

Finally, Ven presented a composed silhouette, his long, dark hair flowing over his shoulders and now tied back with a blue band for practicality in the fray. His Huntsmen uniform was a sleek blue ensemble, featuring an orange-striped armored chest plate that added a striking focal point to his calm demeanor. Lightweight plating adorned his arms and legs, while his dark blue pants transitioned seamlessly into matching combat boots with subtle orange accents, creating a cohesive and refined look. A high collar and orange trim enhanced his poised presence, and at his hip rested a katana-style weapon with an orange hilt, sheathed and ready. As a Huntsman, Ven’s cool, collected style, accented by those bold orange stripes, marked him as a graceful yet formidable warrior on the field.

“Ooohhh, look at this place!” Prism exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement as he scanned the bustling headquarters, taking in the techs and Huntsmen milling about. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, always eager to dive into new experiences.

“W-W-Wo-woah, y-y-yea, th-th-this pl-place l-l-looks s-s-so f-f-fancy f-f-for m-m-me,” Casey stammered nervously, his eyes darting around as he fidgeted with the chain-sickle at his waist. His voice trembled with a mix of awe and anxiety, typical of his jittery nature.

Ven calmly loaded his golden scroll, his movements precise and deliberate. “Hey, I think that’s them over there,” he said, pointing toward a group huddled in the corner of the large hub—a tall and short tech, flanked by four vibrant girls in colorful attire.

“Yes. I think that’s them,” Grey confirmed, his tone steady as he gestured toward the group. His gaze was focused, assessing the situation with the practicality of a seasoned strategist.

“Yeah, man, those girls look cute,” Prism added with a cheeky grin, his smug-like charm shining through despite his good-hearted nature.

“Please stop focusing on the fact that they’re pretty girls,” Ven chuckled, rolling his eyes but maintaining his composed demeanor. He was the voice of reason among the group, always striving to keep things on track.

“Let’s go say hi,” Prism declared, grabbing Casey’s arm and dragging him forward with an infectious energy. Ven, in turn, gently but firmly pulled Grey along, who stiffened slightly but allowed himself to be led, his stoic nature making him resistant to sudden enthusiasm.

As the four boys approached, Blake narrowed her eyes, confused “Errr, who are they?” she asked, her voice low and inquisitive, already sizing up the newcomers.

“Oh, they’re our new partners for the Huntsmen/Guardian/Tech initiative,” Five explained, stepping forward with a friendly nod.

“Great, more trouble,” Weiss sighed, her tone dripping with her usual mix of sarcasm and exasperation.

“Hi!” Ruby and Miko chirped in unison, their voices bright and cheerful. Ruby’s enthusiasm was infectious, while Miko’s gamer energy added a playful edge to the greeting.

“Hello, hey, are you that Rose girl?” Ven asked, his voice smooth and polite as he addressed Ruby directly. “Yeah, the one Oscar talks about.”

“Wait, you know Oscar?” Ruby perked up, her silver eyes widening with curiosity and excitement.

“You know this kid?” Yang raised an eyebrow, her protective nature kicking in as she glanced at her younger sister, ready to step in if needed.

“Well, technically acquainted. We met because Oscar befriended him,” Ruby explained, gesturing toward Ven with a smile.

“Oh, that’s neat. The name’s Five,” Five introduced himself, offering a handshake with a confident yet approachable air.

“I’m Miko,” the gamer girl waved energetically, her hyper personality and love for action making her instantly likable.

“I’m Ruby Rose of Team RWBY—yes, I know it rhymes,” Ruby said with a self-aware laugh, her dorkiness about the name shining through. “And this is Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long, my cool sister.”

“Oh, p-p-pleasure t-t-to m-m-meet y-y-you a-a-all,” Casey stuttered, his nervous energy making his words trip over each other. His nervous nature made him endearing but unpredictable.

“Nice hair, Xiao Long,” Prism complimented, his voice carrying a hint of flirtation but tempered by his good-hearted nature. “I’m Prism, you’ve met Ven already, that’s Grey in the back, and the nervous guy of mine is Casey.”

“Oh, wonderful to meet you all, but Xiao Long’s is my father—I go by Yang,” Yang corrected with a smirk.

“Nice hair Xiao Long,” stated Prism, “I’m Prism, you’ve met Ven already, that’s Grey in the back, and the nervous guy of mine is Casey.”

“Oh wonderful to meet you all but Xiao Long’s is my father, I go by Yang,” responded Yang with a smirk.

Casey, his black, spiky hair a chaotic mess, shuffled his feet, his chain-sickle clinking softly as he fidgeted. His multicolored jacket shimmered under the fluorescent lights, but his nervous energy made him shrink into himself. “I-I-I d-don’t kn-know if I-I sh-should b-be here, y-you g-uys jus-just se-seem s-so nice” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “W-what if I m-mess up? W-what if my ink s-s-smears and s-someone gets mad?”

Ruby, standing nearby with Crescent Rose slung over her shoulder, caught the tail end of his muttering. Her silver eyes sparkled with empathy, and she bounded over, her red cape swirling dramatically behind her. “Hey, don’t worry!” she said, her voice a little too loud in her excitement. “I get nervous too! Like, all the time! W-when I first got to Beacon, I tripped and faceplanted in front of everyone. But, um, it’s okay! We all mess up sometimes, right?”

Casey blinked, his wide eyes darting between Ruby and the floor. “Y-you do?” he squeaked, his fingers twisting the hem of his jacket. “B-but you’re so… c-confident. W-with that huge scythe and everything.”

Ruby blushed, scratching the back of her head nervously. “Oh, Crescent Rose? Yeah, I built her myself! Maybe a little too big, but she’s my sweetheart!” She patted the scythe affectionately, then winced as it nearly toppled over. “Whoops! See? Still klutzy. But that’s why we’re here, right? To learn and, um, not die from glitches or Grimm or whatever!”

Five, who had been observing quietly, stepped forward with a calm smile. His dark blue hair caught the light, and his voice was steady, though there was a hint of his own insecurity lurking beneath. “Hey, Casey, right? I’m Five. I know what it’s like to feel out of place. Back at Lumise, I was always second-guessing myself, especially around Miko.” He glanced at the energetic gamer girl, who was already chatting animatedly with Prism about weapon designs. “But teamwork helps. You’ve got powers, right? Ink stuff?”

Casey nodded vigorously, almost knocking his head against his shoulder in his nervousness. “Y-yeah! I-I can make barriers, traps, stuff like that. B-but I’m always worried it won’t be enough. L-like, what if I freeze up?”

Five’s expression softened. “I freeze up too sometimes. But that’s why we’ve got each other. I’m more of a strategist—I figure out the plans, and you and Ruby can handle the action. Together, we cover each other’s weaknesses.”

Ruby beamed, her nerves momentarily forgotten. “Exactly! Like, when I fight, I sometimes rush in without thinking—Weiss is always yelling at me about it—but with a team, I’ve got backup. Casey, your ink could be amazing for setting up ambushes or protecting us. And Five, your brain is like, super smart!”

Casey’s face flushed, and he stammered, “T-thanks, I-I guess. B-but what if I—I mean, I’m not as fast or strong as you guys.”

“You don’t have to be,” Five said, his voice firm but kind. “Look at me—I’m not the best fighter, but I’m good at reading patterns, figuring out glitches. We all bring something different. Even Miko, with all her energy, needs someone to keep her from charging headfirst into danger.”

Miko, overhearing her name, spun around with a grin. “Hey, I heard that! But yeah, Five’s right. You should see him in action—he’s like a walking strategy guide. And Ruby, your scythe? Total BFG vibes! Casey, your ink could be like a secret weapon. Imagine trapping a glitch in a giant ink blob and then—bam!—Ruby snipes it with Crescent Rose!”

Ruby’s eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands, nearly dropping her weapon again. “Oh my gosh, yes! That’d be so cool! Casey, we could practice together! I’ll show you how I use recoil to boost my speed, and you can show me how to make ink traps. It’ll be like… like a team attack!”

Casey’s nervousness didn’t vanish, but a small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips. “R-really? Y-you’d want to team up with me?”

“Totally!” Ruby said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “And Five can help us plan it all out. Right, Five?”

Five nodded, his confidence growing as he saw the group coming together. “Yeah. We can start small—maybe set up a simulation here in the HQ. Grey and Ven can join too; they seem like they know their stuff. Prism’s energy could be useful for distractions.”

Across the room, Grey and Ven exchanged a glance. Grey’s stoic demeanor softened slightly as he overheard the plan, while Ven adjusted his katana, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Sounds like they’re already forming a strategy,” Ven murmured. “Good. We’ll need that kind of coordination.”

Prism, ever the optimist, clapped Casey on the back, nearly sending him stumbling. “See, buddy? You’re already fitting in! And hey, if you ever need a morale boost, just watch Ruby trip over her own cape. It’s hilarious.”

“Hey!” Ruby protested, but her laughter rang out, bright and genuine. Casey chuckled too, the sound shaky but real, and even Five cracked a smile.

As the group began to brainstorm, Casey felt a flicker of hope. His nervousness was still there, a constant hum in his chest, but for the first time, he didn’t feel alone. Ruby’s boundless enthusiasm and Five’s steady logic were like anchors, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Together, they might just figure out how to face whatever challenges Bailey Glitch Techs HQ—and the world beyond—would throw their way.

“W-we can do this,” Casey whispered to himself, his voice a little stronger. And with Ruby’s cheer and Five’s nod of approval, he believed it.

As the groups began to coalesce, Ven’s gaze settled on Yang. There was something familiar in her stance—the way she positioned herself slightly ahead of Ruby, her eyes darting to check on her younger sister even as she bantered with Weiss. It mirrored Ven’s own role among his team, where he often acted as the steady anchor for Grey, Prism, and the perpetually nervous Casey.

“Hey,” Ven said, his voice smooth and polite as he approached Yang. “You’re Yang Xiao Long, right? Ruby’s sister?”

Yang turned, her lilac eyes narrowing slightly before a smirk tugged at her lips. “Yeah, that’s me. And you’re Ven, the guy with the fancy sword and the calm vibe. Oscar mentioned you. Said you’re pretty reliable.”

Ven chuckled, a rare but warm sound. “Oscar’s too kind. I try to keep things together for my team, same as you do for yours. Prism’s all energy, Grey’s all strategy, and Casey…” He glanced over at Casey, who was still stammering nervously with Ruby and Five. “Well, he’s a good kid, just needs a little confidence.”

Yang’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Sounds like Ruby. She’s got the heart of a hero, but sometimes she trips over her own cape—literally. I’m always picking up the pieces, making sure she doesn’t charge headfirst into trouble without a plan.” She paused, her tone shifting to a playful deadpan. “Though, between you and me, she’s gotten better at dragging me into her messes too.”

Ven nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. I’m the oldest of my group, in a way. Prism’s like a younger brother—always rushing in with a grin—and Casey’s like a nervous little sibling who needs reassurance. Grey’s the steady one, but even he leans on me sometimes. It’s a lot, but… I wouldn’t trade it.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Yang studied Ven, noting the kindness in his eyes, the way his posture was relaxed yet ready, like a guardian watching over his charges. It reminded her of herself—snarky, sure, but with a heart of gold that beat for her family and friends.

“You’re not what I expected,” Yang admitted, crossing her arms. “Thought you’d be all stoic and sword-swingy, but you’ve got a nice guy vibe going. It’s… refreshing.”

Ven’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile. “And I thought you’d be all fire and fists, but you’ve got a big sister energy that’s hard to miss. We’re not so different, you know. Both of us look out for our teams, keeping them grounded.”

Ven’s expression grew serious, but his voice remained gentle. “I understand. Sometimes, being kind isn’t weakness—it’s strength. My team thinks I’m too nice, but I believe in them. Just like you believe in Ruby. It’s not spoiling; it’s faith.”

Yang’s gaze softened, and she uncrossed her arms, extending a hand. “You’re alright, Ven. Let’s keep an eye on these kids together. God knows they need it.”

Ven shook her hand firmly, his grip steady but warm. “Deal. And if Prism ever tries to flirt with you again, I’ll rein him in.”

Yang snorted, her laughter ringing out again. “Please do. But if Casey needs a pep talk, send him my way. I’ve got plenty of experience dragging nervous wrecks out of their shells.”

While the others were busy forming their own connections, Prism wandered over to where Blake Belladonna sat, her amber eyes scanning a book as she leaned against a wall in the corner of Bailey Glitch Techs HQ. Her black bow twitched slightly, a subtle sign of her alertness, but her expression remained aloof. Prism plopped down beside her with a cheerful grin, his white, fluffy hair catching the light. He adjusted his red jacket and leaned in slightly, undeterred by her cool demeanor.

Blake glanced over at him, her gaze sharp but disinterested. “Okay… what?” she said, her voice carrying a hint of irritation.

Prism’s grin widened, undaunted. “Hey, my name’s Prism, and since we’re partners in this Huntsmen/Guardian/Tech thing, I just wanted to get to know you guys better. You’re not talking much, so I figured I’d break the ice.”

Blake raised an eyebrow, her tone dry and snarky. “I’m not much of a talker.”

“Well, good news—I can carry this conversation for the both of us,” Prism declared with a playful wink, his energy almost tangible as he shifted to face her more directly.

Blake rolled her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. “Yipee,” she drawled sarcastically. But after a pause, she closed her book with a soft thud and sighed. “But fine, I’ll bite.”

“Oh, you like reading? I like reading my own stories, comics, and manga—old fashioned heroes saving hot ladies and getting fame,” stated Prism, pulling an example out of his pack.

Blake scoffed, “I don’t lower myself to reading comics simply because I prefer the simple form of wording.”

“Simple form of wording describing hunky guys with jaw-dropping ladies going on adventures,” Prism teased with a smirk.

Blake blushed, making some sort of gasp or noise. “How did—I just read them for the intricate plot and worldbuilding!”

“That’s what everyone says,” snickered Prism, while Blake glared at him, her cheeks still flushed.

Meanwhile, Gray, seeing everyone else engaged in conversation, tried to make conversation with the one and only Weiss Schnee. Currently, Weiss was sitting at a table, waiting for the others to stop talking. She looked particularly miserable about her new partners, considering she already had Ruby and her chaotic crew to deal with.

Gray cleared his throat awkwardly.

Weiss turned her head, a slight frown creasing her features. Her arms were crossed tightly, or perhaps her hand rested lightly on the hilt of Myrtenaster, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. “Yes? What is it?” she said, her voice clipped. “If you have something to say, just say it instead of making unnecessary noise.”

“Uh… hey,” Gray waved, his voice hesitant.

“Hello… can you spit out what you want to say?” Weiss demanded, stepping closer to Gray and getting right in his unreactive face. His hair, falling messily over his eyes, seemed to annoy her even more.

“Well, since we’re teammates, I wanted to at least get to know you better,” he said slowly, as if each word required careful consideration.

Weiss sighed sharply. “I am Weiss Schnee. This is my trusty Myrtenaster. That’s all you need to know. Good day.”

“Ummm, it’s just that…” Gray started, but before he could finish, Weiss closed the distance again, her blue eyes narrowing as she loomed in his face.

“You don’t seem to take hints, do you?” she snapped.

“No,” Gray replied bluntly, blinking at her.

“Oh, well, that’s splendid,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Really?” Gray tilted his head, genuinely confused.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “You don’t seem to understand sarcasm.”

“Not my strong suit,” Gray shrugged, unfazed.

“Look, I’ll pay you lien to get away from me,” Weiss stated flatly, her patience worn thin.

“What’s lien?” Gray asked, his tone as clueless as ever.

Weiss’s lips twitched, a flicker of frustration crossing her face before she could respond. Before she could say another word, however, Miko appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Gray by the arm and dragging him away from the ice queen.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered, Ice Queen!” chirped Miko Kubota, flashing a quick grin.

“She seems nice,” commented Gray.

“Yeah, she’s alright—kinda reminds me of a certain dingleberry. Anyway, I’m Miko,” said the gamer girl, giving him a friendly nudge.

“Gray.”

They shook hands. Miko’s soft but strong grip sent the stiff teen bouncing up and down like he was stuck in a loop.

“Whoops, my bad! So, what brought you here?” asked Miko, leaning in close, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Errr… well, my mentor decided to send me to Lumise Academy, which then sent me here to learn how to control my powers,” stated Gray.

“Cool, that’s a solid backstory. So, what’s your power?” asked Miko Kubota, tilting her head.

“Well—”

“Wait, lemme guess—super strength? Or maybe something wild like a sonic shout?” she cut in, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Actually, I have—” Gray whispered something to Miko. Her eyes widened, and she let out a soft, “Whoa, no way! That’s awesome. Can’t wait to see it in action, maybe during training or whenever you’re ready to show it off.”

“Errr—errr, thank you,” committed Gray nervously.

“No problem, dork,” said Miko, ruffling his gray hair with a playful smirk. “Come on, let’s go meet Five and Ruby—and her super tall sister. Stick with me, newbie!”

“Hey Miko, glad you could make it to the conversation,” said Five, waving at her. “What took you?”

“This lil’ dork,” stated Miko, holding Gray, who was burying his face in his clothes.

“Awww… he reminds me of Ruby,” responded Yang, bending down to look at him.

“No, he doesn’t,” denied Ruby, blushing, but considering they were nearly the same height, she added, “Okay, maybe a bit.”

“His name’s Gray, and he’s got a neat ability. Shame he can’t show it right now,” said Miko.

“Y-y-yeah, Gr-Gray was the new teammate added,” stuttered Casey.

“Oh, really?” questioned Ruby.

“N-no sorry… but hey, I can show my weapon,” said Gray.

“You’re a weapon?!” questioned Ruby, perking up eagerly.

“Oh no,” chuckled Yang, putting a hand to her face.

Gray pulled out his weapon. It was a striking masterpiece of star-forged steel, its blade extending in a sleek, tapering arc that narrowed to a razor-sharp point. Crafted from a shimmering metallic gray alloy, the double-edged surface gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, its pixelated edges reminiscent of a retro digital artifact. The hilt, a sturdy yet elegant frame, was embedded with a cluster of vibrant gems—red, blue, yellow, and green—arranged in a perfect square, each pulsing with a faint, inner light as if infused with cosmic energy. Small, wing-like stabilizers protruded from the base, adding balance and a hint of aerodynamic grace.

“OMGS! It looks perfect!” stated Ruby, with Yang admiring it, reminded again of Ruby’s first outing with weapons.

“Wo-wozaers,” stuttered Casey.

“Holy Metroid, it seriously looks cute!” committed Miko. “It’s so smol.”

“Yeah, I made it myself,” said Gray quietly. The sword twitched, sparking. “Okay, it’s kinda broken, but I plan to fix the errors.”

“I could help with that,” stated Ruby, inching forward.

“Me and Five are pretty good with tech too,” responded Miko, with Five nodding.

“Perhaps… but I kinda want to learn by myself,” said Gray.

Ruby tried to hide her disappointment. “Oh, of course, everyone needs to learn a thing or two…” She inched toward Gray and whispered, staring hard into his face, “Just come to me if you have any trouble.”

“G-g-gosh, she’s so close to him,” commented Casey to Five.

Five chuckled, “That’s everyday with Miko.”

“F-factually not true,” sputtered the multicolored gamer girl. Five raised an eyebrow. “Okay, a tiny bit true.”

“Okay, I’ll back off, but hey, why did you become a guardian, Casey?” asked Ruby.

“Errr… w-well, it was to impress my relatives and prove my worth,” stuttered Casey. “Almost everyone in my family were guardians… and well, I wanted to continue that line.”

“Aw… that’s so sweet,” stated Yang.

“So, kinda like me,” questioned Ruby as Yang ruffled both of the black-haired kids’ hair.

“Wha?”

“Well, I got inspired to be a huntress to help the world like in legends, but also because of my cool mom, dad, and uncle,” stated Ruby.

“Woah, really,” questioned Casey, stuttering. Ruby nodded, blushing.

“Yeah, mom and dad are really important to us,” responded Ruby, looking down a bit.

“Same for me with my dad,” nodded Five. “Even if I can’t see him too often.”

“Of course, Five always tells me he’s so busy,” smiled Miko, causing Five to sweat.

“Yeah, same for my mom,” responded Ruby nervously, sweating.

Both Yang and Gray noticed this, while Miko simply tried to figure out why, clearly sensing something.

“Ough, tension’s thick here,” laughed Miko nervously and awkwardly.

Yang cleared her throat, “Okay, let’s save this conversation for another time.”

“Yeah, errr, sorry for going off-track,” stated Five, smiling.

“Yeah, me too,” shrugged Ruby, smiling.

“Anyhow, I was thinking maybe you guys could visit,” stated Yang. “Ya know, since you guys know so much about weapons and all, maybe we could hang out at home.”

“Oh, cool idea,” said Miko eagerly, nodding.

“Yeah, I would love to,” said Five, with Casey eagerly nodding.

“Yeah, sure, sounds fine,” said Gray quietly, with Ruby inching up behind him. “Let me test your weapon.” This made Miko chuckle at Gray’s misfortune.

Weiss, watching all of this, stood up, tapping her weapon on the table like a pencil. “Alright, that’s enough introductions.”

This caught Ven, Prism, and Blake’s attention, as Ven was mediating Blake and Prism’s snarky exchanges about their reading preferences.

Meanwhile, it also grabbed Casey, Gray, Miko, Five, Ruby, and Yang’s attention.

“As we can see, since we have way more members, we should obviously have a main leader, which has to be me,” stated Weiss.

“What,” said everyone in unison.

“…Wha?” Ruby squeaked.

“Excuse me?” Miko blinked.

“Sorry?” Gray asked.

“Well, obviously, everyone is going to have a problem controlling this huge group, which is why I’m taking charge,” stated Weiss.

“Lady, you’re the only one who has a problem with it,” mused Prism.

“I do not. I simply want to establish a stable team,” snarked Weiss with a thinly veiled smile.

“I mean, he’s right, Ice Queen,” said Miko, walking over. “You’re the only one who has a problem with it.”

“I mean, Miko is right,” said Ruby, holding Miko back. “Can’t we just lead our teams separately and have the leaders talk with each other, like—”

Weiss seemingly softened, calming down. “Fine… but if there is one singular leader, who would it be?” Gray was confused and felt like she was masking something he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Don’t really care,” stated Blake, Miko, Gray, Casey, and Yang unanimously.

“Don’t fall for it, guys. Weiss is trying to leader-bait,” snarked Blake.

“Pffft… leader-bait,” snickered Miko and Ruby.

“I mean, I did lead more than just my best friend,” said Five, pondering.

“I mean, I could take charge,” responded Prism, puffing out his chest. “We need a hero around here.”

“Yeah, no,” stated Weiss.

“For once, I agree with Weiss,” committed Yang, shaking her head.

“Let’s just keep it separate,” said Ruby. “At least for now.”

“Besides, Ven is a better leader than you, Prism,” stuttered Casey.

“What does he have over me?”

“He’s not arrogant,” stated Blake and Casey.

“Or blurting out everything he says, though I could say the same about myself, but still,” said Blake, musing that she might be a bit hypocritical but telling the truth.

“That’s just an awesome quirk of mine,” shrugged Prism.

“Well, maybe we have to put this on hold,” said Five, holding up his gauntlet to show a meeting notification for everyone at the headquarters meeting room. Luckily, this ended the discussion. However, everyone left the room except Ven, Ruby, and Five.

“So, how does everyone feel about the leader thing?” asked Ven.

“I dunno, really,” shrugged Ruby, looking down.

“I mean, at least we should just do what we normally do,” shrugged Five.

The three walked off, a bit concerned.

Weiss, passing Miko with a scoff, noticed Gray looking at her. “Errgh… what?”

“I think your rude undertones are shooting you in the foot,” said Gray.

“What? I dropped it—I mean… wait, why do you care?” asked Weiss, glaring at him.

“I don’t. I just simply found it obvious.”

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious how slick you were acting,” said Miko, popping up between them to their shock. “I mean, even if you were the leader, you’d just be hated if you kept acting like this. I mean, a certain dingleberry is a big example.”

“Dingleberry… do you mean dolt?” questioned Weiss, flustered by this.

“Actually, I mean Mitch Williams,” stated Miko, brows furrowing. “Wonder how he’s doing anyhow?”
_____________________________________________________________________
Mitch Wiliams was many things he considered to himself. To him, he was the most skillful, intelligent, stylish tech of all of Hinobi Corp. But today he was quite mad. He had to deal with eight more partners over the three to four he already had.

The fluorescent lights of Hinobi Bailey HQ buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the sleek, high-tech meeting room. Walls lined with glowing screens displayed real-time glitch activity maps, while the faint hum of servers underscored the tension in the air. Mitch Williams stood at the head of the long, polished table, his dark blue leather jacket slung over his Hinobi jumpsuit, the pink-tinted visor on his head glinting with an air of superiority. His platinum-blonde hair, now styled in side-swept dreadlocks, caught the light as he paced, his platformed boots clicking against the floor.

“I’m Mitch Williams,” he declared, his voice carrying that signature fancy edge, dripping with egotism. “And I’m in charge here. No questions, no arguments. We’ve got a new team, and I’m not about to let a bunch of rookies muck it up.”

Across from him, Zahra Rashid leaned back in her chair, her white hijab framing her cool, sarcastic expression. She adjusted her clear glasses, the mic speaker sticking out slightly, and muttered under her breath, “Oh, joy. Another ego trip. Should we bow, Mitch, or just kiss the ring?”

Haneesh Jyoshi, sitting beside her, chuckled softly, his portly frame relaxed but his dark eyes sharp. “Easy, Zahra. Let the man have his moment. It’s not like he’s actually leading us anywhere useful.” His calm demeanor belied the slight edge of mockery, a remnant of his days as a burned-out gaming prodigy.

Mitch shot them both a glare, but before he could retort, the door slid open with a hiss. Team JNPR—Jaune Arc, Nora Valkyrie, Pyrrha Nikos, and Lie Ren—followed by the Ink Squad: Cyane, Pyre, Astra, and Vex. Their presence was a stark contrast to the tech-heavy environment, their combat gear and weapons clashing with the sleek modernity of Hinobi.

Jaune, dressed in his black hoodie and white chest plate, scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, hi. I’m Jaune Arc. This is Nora, Pyrrha, Ren, and, well, these guys are… new.” He gestured to the Ink Squad, who stood with varying degrees of confidence. Cyane’s cyan hair spiked wildly, their eyes gleaming with a leader’s determination. Pyre’s golden hair shimmered under the lights, their fiery confidence almost palpable. Astra’s pink hair flowed like a dream, her staff twirling absently in her hands, while Vex’s purple bangs shadowed one eye, their posture radiating cool detachment.

Nora bounded forward, her orange hair bouncing as she grinned. “Ooh, this place is so shiny! Do the glitches here turn into cute little monsters, or is it all just boring code stuff?” Her voice was a whirlwind of enthusiasm, and Haneesh couldn’t help but smirk.

“More like annoying pests,” he replied, adjusting his Glitch Tech gauntlet. “But yeah, sometimes they get creative.”

Zahra rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Great. Now we’ve got a cheerleader. Just what we needed.”

Mitch, however, was fuming. “Enough chit-chat! I said I’m in charge, and that’s final. We don’t need leaders for every little group—this is my turf, my rules. You lot”—he pointed at JNPR and the Ink Squad—“are here to follow, not to question.”

Jaune frowned, stepping forward. “Hold on. Back at Beacon, we work as a team. Each group has its own leader. It’s how we stay effective. You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will,” Mitch snapped, his pink visor flashing as he crossed his arms. “You think you know better than me? I’m the top Glitch Tech in this division. Boosh!”

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with Zahra’s pink laser sword. Then Cyane stepped up, their cyan eyes narrowing. “Leadership’s not about barking orders, mate. It’s about trust. You want respect? Earn it.” Their voice carried a deep, commanding tone, reminiscent of a seasoned commander, but without the sanctimonious edge.

Mitch sneered, but before he could respond, Nora piped up, “Hey, you remind me of those noob blueberry brains! Always arguing, always dramatic. Are all you tech guys like this?” Her turquoise eyes sparkled with mischief, and Jaune groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Nora, not helping,” he muttered, but there was a fondness in his voice. Pyrrha, standing gracefully beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder, her green eyes calm but firm.

“Mitch, perhaps we could find common ground,” she suggested, her tone professional yet warm. “We all want the same thing—to protect people from glitches and threats. Why not work together?”

Haneesh nodded, his sarcastic edge softening. “She’s got a point. We’re not your enemies, Mitch. But we’re not your puppets, either.”

Despite the growing camaraderie among the others, Mitch’s scowl deepened. He hated this—hated being reminded of Five and Miko, those pesky upstarts who’d once challenged his dominance. Nora’s bubbly energy and Jaune’s earnest leadership struck a nerve, echoing the duo he’d rather forget. But then Jaune mentioned something that caught him off guard.

“You know, I get it,” Jaune said, meeting Mitch’s gaze. “Dealing with a team can be tough. I’ve got seven sisters back home, all louder and more chaotic than Nora on a sugar high. You’ve got siblings too, right? Must be a nightmare.”

Mitch froze before scoffing, “I don’t need to explain my life to you noob.”

Jaune nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Sounds familiar. Doesn’t mean we’re friends, though. Just… I get it.”

The moment was brief, but it hung in the air, a fragile bridge between two reluctant characters. Vex, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed, smirked. “Well, isn’t this touching? Next, you’ll be braiding each other’s hair.”

Astra giggled, her pink hair swaying as she twirled her staff. “Oh, I’d pay to see that!”

Pyre, flexing smirked,“Yeah it would be really funny.”

“So, you lot think you can just waltz in here and play hero?” Mitch sneered, his British accent sharp as a blade. He waved a dismissive hand toward the newly arrived group—Team JNPR and the Ink Squad—standing in a loose cluster near the door. “Of course you guys would love that,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he pointed a gauntleted finger at them. “So I should ask, who is who here? Let’s get this over with so I can tell you how it’s really done.”

The room fell into a brief, tense silence, the hum of servers and the soft glow of glitch maps on the walls the only sounds. Zahra Rashid, seated with her arms crossed, rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible. Her white hijab framed her cool, tan face as she muttered, “Here we go. Another Mitch monologue. Someone wake me when he’s done stroking his own ego.”

Haneesh Jyoshi, lounging beside her, stifled a laugh, his portly frame shaking slightly. His dark eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Patience, Zahra. He’s just warming up. Give him a minute, and he’ll declare himself king of the glitches.”

Mitch shot them both a glare that could have curdled milk, but before he could retort, Cyane stepped forward. The cyan-haired leader of the Ink Squad moved with a confident stride, their wild hair spiking in every direction like a living storm. Their light skin and piercing cyan eyes locked onto Mitch with a steely resolve, reminiscent of a commander who’d seen too many battles to be intimidated by bluster.

“Okay,” Cyane said, their voice deep and commanding, cutting through the tension like a knife. They nodded once, decisively, as if accepting a challenge. “This is the Ink Squad, consisting of me, Astra, Pyre, and Vex. We’re here to handle glitches, same as you, but we don’t need a single loudmouth telling us how to do it.” Their tone was firm but measured, carrying the weight of someone used to leading, yet not above a sharp jab.

Mitch’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Big words for a newbie with a hairdo that looks like it lost a fight with a blender.”

Cyane didn’t flinch, but Astra, standing just behind them, let out a soft, melodic laugh. Her long, flowing pink hair swayed as she twirled her staff absentmindedly, her pastel armor catching the light with a faint, magical glow. “Oh, don’t mind him, Cyane,” she said, her voice dreamy but edged with a playful sharpness. “He’s just jealous he doesn’t have hair as fabulous as yours.”

Vex, lurking near the back with their arms crossed, snorted. Their sharp, asymmetrical purple hair shadowed one eye, giving them an air of mystery and danger. “Fabulous? More like a hazard. But yeah, Mitch, you’re outmatched here.” Their voice was cool and snarky, a perfect blend of wit and cynicism, as if they were always one step ahead of the joke.

Pyre, ever the radiant optimist, stepped up beside Cyane, their golden-yellow hair practically glowing under the lights. Their fiery confidence was unmistakable, their armor gleaming with flame-like patterns. “Come on, Mitch,” they said, clapping a hand on Cyane’s shoulder. “Lighten up! We’re all on the same side, right? No need to be such a grump.”

Mitch’s scowl deepened, but before he could fire back, Jaune Arc cleared his throat, stepping forward with a nervous but determined air. His black hoodie and white chest plate made him stand out among the tech-heavy crowd, his blue jeans and sneakers a stark contrast to the sleek Hinobi gear. He scratched the back of his neck, his outgoing nature warring with the awkwardness of the situation.

“Okay,” Jaune began, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. “I lead JNPR… err, I mean, pronounced ‘Juniper.’” He winced slightly, as if realizing mid-sentence how silly it sounded. “That’s me, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren. We’re from Beacon Academy, and we’re used to working as a team. Each of us has a role, and we don’t really do the ‘one guy in charge’ thing.”

Nora, bouncing on her toes beside him, grinned wide enough to split her face. Her orange hair was a wild halo around her head, and her turquoise eyes sparkled with mischief. “Yeah! Jaune’s our leader, but we all chip in! It’s like a big, happy family—except louder, and with more explosions!” She punctuated her statement with a dramatic gesture, nearly knocking over a stack of datapads on a nearby console.

Pyrrha, ever the composed one, stepped forward with a graceful smile, her red ponytail swinging slightly. Her green eyes were warm but firm, her bronze armor glinting subtly. “What Jaune means is that we value collaboration,” she said, her voice smooth and professional. “We’re here to support, not to compete.”

Lie Ren, standing slightly behind her, nodded silently, his long black hair with its magenta streak falling over his calm, stoic face. His Chinese-inspired attire was understated but practical, and his presence was a quiet counterbalance to Nora’s chaos. “Peace and efficiency,” he added simply, his voice low but clear. “That’s what matters.”

Mitch scoffed, his pink visor flashing as he threw his hands up. “Collaboration? Efficiency? Spare me the Beacon Academy handbook. This isn’t some fairy tale academy—it’s Hinobi, and I’m the best Tech here. Boosh! You want to play nice? Fine. But don’t expect me to hold your hands when the glitches start flying.”

Zahra leaned forward, her laser sword hilt resting on the table. “And don’t expect us to kiss your boots when you inevitably trip over your own ego, Mitch. We’ve got this covered.”

Haneesh chuckled, his portly frame shaking with suppressed laughter. “Looks like we’ve got a full house now. Two teams, one big headache.”
“Ahh, it seems like Phil is bringing us in for a briefing,” he muttered, his British accent laced with a mix of annoyance and reluctant duty. His dark blue leather jacket creaked as he crossed his arms, the platformed soles of his boots tapping impatiently against the floor. “Typical. Just when I’m about to set these noobs straight, the higher-ups have to butt in.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a glitch about to manifest. Zahra Rashid, seated nearby, adjusted her clear glasses with a smirk, the mic speaker on the frame catching the light. “Oh, poor Mitch,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Forced to share the spotlight with actual competent people. Must be tough.”

Haneesh Jyoshi chuckled softly, his portly frame shaking slightly as he leaned back in his chair. His dark eyes sparkled with a quiet amusement, the remnants of his gaming prodigy past giving his sarcasm a sharp edge. “Don’t worry, Mitch. I’m sure Phil will give you a gold star for attendance. Maybe even a pat on the head.”

Mitch shot them both a glare that could have powered a glitch for a week, but before he could retort, Nora Valkyrie let out an excited squeal that shattered the tension like a hammer on glass. She bounced up and down on her toes, her orange hair bobbing wildly, her turquoise eyes shining with unbridled enthusiasm. “Oh cool, we get to meet the boss!” she chirped, her voice a whirlwind of energy that seemed to fill the room. “Is he nice? Does he have cool gadgets? Oh, oh, does he fight glitches too, or is he more of a paperwork guy? I bet he’s got a secret lair or something!”

Jaune Arc groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood beside her, his black hoodie and white chest plate a stark contrast to the sleek Hinobi gear. “Nora, calm down,” he muttered, though there was a fond exasperation in his tone. “We don’t even know who Phil is yet. Let’s not scare him off before we get there.”

Pyrrha Nikos, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward with a graceful smile, her red ponytail swaying slightly. Her green eyes were warm but firm, her bronze armor glinting subtly under the lights. “Nora’s right to be curious, though,” she said, her voice smooth and composed. “Meeting the head of operations could give us a better understanding of how Hinobi and Beacon can work together. It’s a good opportunity.”

Lie Ren, standing just behind her, nodded silently, his long black hair with its magenta streak falling over his calm, stoic face. His Chinese-inspired attire was understated but practical, and his presence was a quiet anchor amidst Nora’s chaos. “Efficiency,” he added simply, his voice low but clear. “That’s what matters. Let’s move.”

Cyane, leader of the Ink Squad, stepped forward with a decisive nod, their cyan hair spiking wildly in every direction. Their light skin and piercing cyan eyes locked onto the group with a leader’s focus, their voice deep and commanding. “Agreed. No point standing around. Let’s see what this Phil wants.” They gestured to Astra, Pyre, and Vex, who fell into step behind them. Astra twirled her staff absentmindedly, her pink hair flowing like a dream, while Pyre’s golden hair caught the light with a fiery glow, and Vex’s purple bangs shadowed one eye, their posture radiating cool detachment.

Mitch snorted, adjusting his visor with a flick of his wrist. “Fine. But don’t expect me to hold your hands on the way there. Follow me, and try not to trip over your own weapons.” He spun on his heel, his platformed boots clacking as he strode toward the door, his ego practically leaving a trail of glitter behind him.

Zahra and Haneesh exchanged a look, then rose to follow, their movements synchronized from years of working together. “This should be interesting,” Zahra muttered, her pink laser sword hilt swinging at her side. “I give it five minutes before Mitch tries to take credit for whatever Phil says.”

“Ten, if we’re lucky,” Haneesh replied, his portly frame moving with surprising agility. “But I’ll bet on five.”

Sure enough, as the big group—now a chaotic amalgamation of Glitch Techs, Huntsmen, and the Ink Squad—poured out of the meeting room and into the gleaming corridor, the atmosphere shifted. The hallway of Hinobi Bailey HQ was a marvel of modern design: walls lined with holographic displays showing glitch signatures, floors polished to a mirror shine, and the faint hum of advanced technology buzzing in the background. The group’s footsteps echoed, a mix of heavy boots, light sneakers, and the occasional clink of armor, creating a discordant symphony.

Nora skipped ahead, her white ankle boots with pink soles tapping excitedly as she peered at every screen they passed. “Ooh, look at all the pretty lights! Do these track the glitches? Are they like Grimm, but digital? Oh, I hope they’re digital—I’m better at smashing things that don’t bleed!”

Jaune hurried to catch up, his face a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “Nora, please, not everything needs to be smashed. Let’s just… let’s just get to the briefing, okay?”

Pyrrha walked beside him, her stride graceful but purposeful, while Ren kept pace silently, his eyes scanning their surroundings with a studious calm. Behind them, the Ink Squad moved as a unit: Cyane leading with a steady gait, Astra humming softly as she adjusted her pastel armor, Pyre’s fiery confidence lighting up the corridor, and Vex trailing with a smirk, their purple hair catching the light in sharp contrasts.

Mitch, still at the front, muttered under his breath, “Amateurs. All of them. Wait till Phil sees this circus.” But there was a flicker of something else in his expression—perhaps a grudging respect for their energy, or maybe just the realization that he was no longer the only show in town.

As they turned a corner, the corridor opened into a larger briefing room, its walls dominated by a massive holographic display projecting a map of Bailey and surrounding areas, dotted with red blips indicating glitch activity. The door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss, sealing them in as the voice of Phil crackled over the intercom, crisp and authoritative.

“Welcome, team,” the voice said, echoing through the room. “We’ve got work to do. Pay attention.”

Nora’s eyes widened, and she whispered loudly to Jaune, “See? Secret lair vibes! I knew it!”

Mitch groaned, but even he couldn’t hide the spark of anticipation in his pink-tinted visor. The briefing was about to begin, and whether they liked it or not, this mismatched group was about to face their first real test together.
______________________________________________________________________
There were many warehouses located across the city of Vale.
They were so numerous many were left abandoned to the sands of time. Thus many villains would make their moves here discussing problems and schemes. One such one held a hidden speakeasy near one of the warehouses. It was rather isolated and thus if you wanted to see it yourself you would have to really go out your way here.
This was, of course, planned as a group of villains made their presence here and did not want any villains finding them.
In the shadowed depths of the hidden speakeasy, nestled near Vale’s industrial warehouses, the air hung heavy with the scent of smoke and Dust-laced liquor. Dim lanterns cast flickering light across cracked leather booths and a long bar lined with bottles that glimmered ominously. Crates of stolen goods loomed in the corners, guarded by Junior’s silent goons, their eyes watchful.
Cinder Fall.
Cinder is a fair-skinned young woman with bright amber eyes and long, ashen-black hair that covers her left eye and rests over her left shoulder. On her upper back she has a black tattoo of her emblem: a pair of high heel shoes placed sole-to-sole, forming a heart shape inside. Her fingernails are painted dark red. She wears a dark red, long-sleeved, off-the-shoulders, V-neck minidress with a quadrant-shaped keyhole on the upper back framing her tattoo and two laces tied together across the neckline. Golden regal designs decorate the dress around the keyhole, across the chest, and down the sleeves which end in loops around her middle fingers. The dress splits from her right hip down, and has a tapered tail ending just above her knees. The hem is trimmed with black lace. She wears black, lace-up shorts underneath her dress as well as a black choker around her neck. She also has dark, glass, high-heeled shoes. Mounted on her right hip where the dress splits is a brooch consisting of a black, rhombus-shaped gem set within a gold metal frame with several iridescent blue and green feathers radiating out from it. She has a gold hoop earring with a black gem dangling from it on her right ear, and a jeweled anklet around her right leg.
An ambitious and enigmatic woman with power over fire, Cinder Fall is the leader of an equally mysterious group closely associated with crime lord Roman Torchwick.
Currently she was meeting the rather notorious broker of the seedy underworld: Kagero Okuta — Giran.
He was knowledgeable about current trends and is also great at scouting potential villains. He also successfully deals with illegal costumes, supplies, among other things.
Sitting at the bar the wannabe maiden saw the man walk in. He was a middle-aged man of moderate height and slight build, with eyebrows that appear to be drawn up most of the time and notably squinted-looking pink eyes. He has short gray hair worn parted to his right with side bangs hanging above his eyes, along with a small mustache and a goatee on his chin, and one of his front teeth seems to be missing, leaving a gap in his grin. He wore a pair of dress pants and a matching blazer, along with plain black shoes and a shirt which he leaves partially unbuttoned at the top. He has a thick, golden tube-like necklace around his neck that appears to be made up of multiple segments, sometimes along with a fluffy scarf that resembles intestines in shape and color, also sporting a pair of circular glasses on his face. He was smoking a heavy cigar as he spoke smugly, “Greetings Miss Fall you’re looking particularly fiery this evening.”
Giran stepped forward gesturing towards the emerald hair girl and grey haired boy.
The boy was seen to be a pale, young man with gray eyes and gray hair, partially slicked back while unkempt at the front. Mercury wears a slate gray and black two-tone partial-zip jacket that covers his upper body. He also wears a single notched belt with what appears to be a sash or bandana draped over it. Protecting his arms are a set of rerebraces and vambraces. What he had hidden that only few like his own teammates and Giran knew was his cybernetics to replace his former legs.
The girl, meanwhile, was a young woman with medium-brown skin and dark-red eyes. Her hair is a light, mint-green with a straight fringe and bangs as well as two long locks on each side in the back. he wears two bronze-colored rings on her middle fingers as well as a pair of strappy high-heeled pumps. Originally, her attire consisted of an intricate white top and an olive-colored crop top, on the back of which is her personal emblem. This emblem is in the shape of a cut gem, most likely referring to her name. This was intended to be accompanied by white shorts, decorated with what appears to be a gold coin-plated belt with four gold chains draping around her back from two of the coins and what seems to be a green loincloth. She also wore a gold, three-ring armband on her left arm and a string of gold beads near the same wrist.
“Your “disciples” seems to be looking well,” mused Giran sarcastically.
Emerald and Mercury didn’t bother responding.
“You can dispense the sarcasm,” snarked Cinder Fall who got up, “Have you found us any new recruits?”
“Actually I have, but I should admit you haven’t done anything too notable yet,” said Giran using his revolver to light a new cigar, “And while threatening people to work under you can be successful, it will not work forever, the underworld changing you may need to adapt.”
Cinder paused, before continuing seeing the logic, “I’ll consider it, but you can show me the recruits.”
“Of course,” stated Giran, opening the door. He snapped his fingers, four teenagers comparable to Emerald’s age. First was a young woman of average height with straight, light brown hair that reached just below her shoulders and large, dark brown eyes, she had glossy lips, and was more or less Emerald’s shape. The next was a boy who was a very tall and well-built young man with buzzed, dark brown hair and black eyes. The next girl was a rather pale girl of reasonable height, with thin, somewhat cat-like eyes, with thick upper eyelashes, a couple of longer and more pronounced ones poking out to each far side, their irises a bluish-lilac color. Her hair is straight and reaches down to her waist, with two ear-length clumps and a neat fringe framing her face in a hime cut, its color is somewhere between baby blue, lavender and pale gray. Finally, there was a tall, muscular young man with shaggy, unruly hair which is such a dark brown that it's almost black, sticking up in all directions around his head.
Giran, leaning casually against the bar with a sly grin, adjusted his tie and broke the silence. “Miss Fall,” he drawled, his voice slick with opportunism, “meet Camie Utsushimi—Glamour, Saiko Intelli, Yo Shindo—Vibrator, and Inasa Yoarashi—Gale Force. Top-tier talent, straight from the ashes of hero society. They’re yours to command… for the right price, of course.”

Cinder leaned forward, her amber eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on the new arrivals. Her voice was smooth but cold, each word dripping with intent. “Of course, Giran. Your services are always… expedient.” She shifted her attention to the recruits, her smile sharp as a blade. “Welcome to my little empire. I trust you understand the stakes. Vale is a chessboard, and you’re the pieces I’ve chosen to move.”

Mercury glanced up from his comic, his smirk widening into sarcasm. “Great, welcome to Cinder’s little faction,” he muttered, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance. “Where the drinks are spiked, and the exits are traps. Hope you brought your A-game, ‘cause we’re not babysitting.”

Emerald rolled her eyes at his quip, then turned her calculating stare on the newcomers. “He’s right, though,” she said, her tone firm. “This isn’t some hero school field trip. If you can’t keep up, you’re out—or worse. Miss Fall doesn’t tolerate weakness.”

Camie Utsushimi twirled a lock of hair around her finger, her voice dreamy but tinged with an unsettling edge. Her eyes flickered briefly, as if another presence lurked behind them. “Like, totally chill, right?” she said, giggling nervously, though a sinister undertone crept into her words. “I’m here to, uh, make things… prettier. Or scarier. Whatever floats your boat, boss lady.”

Saiko Intelli adjusted her glasses, standing rigidly with an air of cold precision. “Efficiency is my specialty,” she stated, her tone clipped and analytical. “I’ve analyzed your operation, Miss Fall. Your current strategy lacks contingency for Atlas interference during the Vytal Festival. I can fix that. But I expect resources and autonomy in return.”

Cinder raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unimpressed. “Bold,” she murmured. “I like that. But don’t mistake my patience for leniency, Saiko. You’ll get what you earn. Atlas is already on my list.”

Yo Shindo grinned confidently, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward. His voice brimmed with arrogance, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Vibrator’s the name, and shaking things up is my game,” he boasted. “You want chaos? I can bring down buildings, heroes, whatever. Just point me at the target. But don’t expect me to play second fiddle to anyone.” He shot a quick, challenging glance at Mercury, who smirked back mockingly.

Inasa Yoarashi stepped up next, his presence intense, a subtle swirl of wind stirring the air around him. His voice boomed with passion, though it carried a defiant edge. “Gale Force, at your service!” he declared. “I’m here to crush the hypocrisy of hero and huntsmen society and build something better—even if it means working with you. But don’t think for a second I’ll bow to anyone. I’m a force of nature, not a pawn!”

Mercury snorted, closing his comic with a snap and tossing it onto the table. “Wow, big words for a guy who’s about to get swept under the rug,” he taunted. “You’re all talk, windboy.”

Inasa’s glare was instant, his fists clenching as the wind around him picked up, rattling the bottles on the bar. “Say that again, smartass,” he growled, “and I’ll show you how fast I can turn this dump into a tornado!”

Cinder raised a hand, her voice slicing through the rising tension like ice. “Enough,” she commanded, her gaze flicking between the two. “Inasa, your passion is noted—and contained. Mercury, stop provoking unless you want to test his Quirk firsthand. You’re all here because you have something I need: power, cunning, chaos. But let me be clear—this is my game. Step out of line, and you’ll find out why they call me the Fall.”

Giran chuckled, raising a glass he’d snatched from the bar in a mock toast. “See? Told you she’s the real deal,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Now, let’s talk terms. These kids aren’t cheap, but they’re worth every Lien. What’s the first move, Cinder? Dust heist? Grimm bait? Or something… bigger?”

Emerald narrowed her eyes at Giran, then swept her gaze over the recruits. “First move is proving yourselves,” she said firmly. “There’s a shipment coming in at the port tomorrow—Atlas-grade Dust, heavily guarded. You four”—she pointed at Camie, Saiko, Yo, and Inasa—“show us you’re not just talk. Fail, and you’re out. Or dead.”

Camie tilted her head, her voice shifting to a darker, more commanding tone. “Dead, huh?” she mused, a smirk playing on her lips as her eyes glazed over briefly. “Like, no pressure or anything. But I can make those guards see… whatever we want. Nightmares, maybe. Or pretty little lies.”

“So kinda like me,” Emerald tilted her head, “Interesting, we may have to talk about that.”

Saiko nodded, already lost in calculation, her mind racing ahead. “Acceptable,” she said. “I’ll devise a plan. We’ll need diversion, infiltration, and extraction points. Yo, your vibrations can handle the diversion. Inasa, you’ll clear escape routes. Camie, your illusions will mask our approach. I’ll coordinate.”

Yo grinned wider, his confidence unshaken. “Fine by me,” he said. “Let’s shake things up, literally. But if this goes south, don’t blame me—I warned you I don’t play nice.”

Inasa nodded reluctantly, his glare at Mercury lingering but softening as he focused on the mission. “I’ll do it,” he said. “But I want a piece of the action when we take down those hypocrites. Deal?”

Cinder smiled thinly, her eyes glinting with amusement and danger. She leaned back in her chair, letting the silence stretch for a moment before speaking. “Deal,” she said at last. “But remember: you succeed, you stay. You fail…” Her gaze swept over them, cold and unyielding. “Well, Vale’s full of Grimm. I’m sure they’d love the company.”

Giran raised his glass higher, his chuckle turning into a full laugh. “To new alliances and old grudges,” he toasted. “May your schemes outpace your enemies, Cinder.”

Mercury muttered under his breath, picking up his comic again and flipping it open with a sigh. “Or may we all just burn out fast,” he grumbled. “Same difference.”

The tension in the speakeasy hung thick, a cocktail of ambition, defiance, and impending violence, as the faint jazz music played on, oblivious to the storm brewing within its walls.

After the tense introduction and mission assignment in the speakeasy, the atmosphere shifts as Giran lingers by the bar, swirling a glass of Dust-infused whiskey. Cinder rises from her chair, her movements graceful but purposeful, while Emerald watches silently and Mercury flips another page of his comic, feigning disinterest. The new recruits—Camie, Saiko, Yo, and Inasa—stand near the door, still adjusting to the weight of their new alliance.

Giran’s smirk widened as he set his glass down on the bar with a soft clink, the faint glow of Dust crystals reflecting in his narrow, shrewd eyes. “Impressive lineup, Miss Fall,” he said, his voice smooth and friendly, though laced with a playful edge of greed. “But talent like that doesn’t come free, you know. I’d be happy to take that crate of Lightning Dust you’ve got stashed—or maybe Fire, if you’re feeling generous. Dust is worth more than Lien these days, and, well, who am I to argue with market trends?” His Cheshire Cat Grin flashed briefly, a mix of charm and calculation, as he adjusted his shades with a casual flick of his wrist.

Cinder’s eyes narrow, but her smile remains, sharp and calculating. She steps closer, her heels clicking on the concrete floor, the faint glow of Dust crystals reflected in her gaze. “Dust is precious, Giran,” she replies, her tone icy yet measured. “But so is discretion. You’ll get two crates—one Lightning, one Gravity. Consider it an investment in our… mutual success. I don’t carry Lien in my pockets—or anywhere else, for that matter.” Her lips curl slightly, a hint of mockery at her own predicament, the irony not lost on her.

Emerald stifles a smirk, while Mercury chuckles under his breath. “No pockets, no problem,” he mutters, not looking up from his comic. “Just Dust and dreams, right, boss?”

Giran raised an eyebrow, his grin unfaltering, as Cinder countered. “Two crates? Fair enough,” he replied, his tone still affable but with a hint of dry humor. “But if this deal goes south, I might just have to drop by again. Dust or not, I’m not exactly keen on taking the fall for anyone’s schemes—yours included.” He gestured toward the stacked crates in the corner, guarded by Junior’s men, with a mockingly polite nod. “Those better be as good as you say, or next time, I might have to get cheeky and ask for a Grimm’s weight in Lien. Just kidding… mostly.” His grin widened, but his eyes gleamed with calculation, betraying the seriousness beneath his snark.

Cinder’s gaze hardens, but she nods, the deal sealed with a silent understanding. “They will be,” she says. “And Giran? Don’t overestimate your bargaining power. This empire runs on more than Dust—it runs on fear. Remember that.”

He tipped his head in a gesture of affable respect, the motion almost theatrical, as if bowing to an audience. “Always a pleasure doing business, Miss Fall,” he added, his voice warm but edged with that signature snark. Then, with a final drag on his cigarette—lit with a quick flick of his revolver-lighter—he slipped out through the secret exit, leaving the weight of their bargain hanging in the air like smoke. The recruits exchanged uneasy glances: Camie’s eyes flickered with dark amusement, Saiko noted the transaction with cold approval, Yo cracked his knuckles in anticipation, and Inasa’s wind stirred faintly, as if testing the room’s limits.

Suddenly, two portals ripped open in the dim light of the speakeasy, and six figures stumbled into the room. From the first portal, four boys landed in a tangled heap on the floor, groaning and disentangling themselves. The second portal, glowing with a sinister red and blue hue, spat out two more figures who strode out confidently, their eyes glowing ominously. The one in red smirked menacingly, exuding a dangerous charisma.

Giran chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot about them. They were… ehh… fashionably late.”

With a final drag on his cigar, Giran waltzed out with his reward, leaving Cinder to deal with the chaos. The six newcomers scrambled to their feet and straightened themselves, each exuding a distinct presence.

One had blue hair, his face darkened under the front, with yellow glowing eyes that pierced the shadows. He wore a red uniform, a yellow cape fluttering behind him, and black shoes that clicked softly against the concrete. Another wore a weathered red leather jacket, patched and marked with a deep red stripe across the chest, hanging loosely over a lean frame. The frayed sleeves hinted at countless battles, and his black combat boots scuffed the floor as his calloused, scarred hands rested at his sides, radiating raw, untamed energy.

Nearby, a figure twirled a lock of bright blue hair that shimmered like a river under moonlight, the strands flowing in soft waves. He wore a dark blue cloak that billowed gently, adorned with a vibrant green emblem stitched over his heart, concealing a lithe form. Black leggings and soft blue boots completed his look, his movements silent and graceful against the concrete. In a shadowed corner stood another figure, cloaked in mystery, with short, tousled light gray hair and a single strand curling upward, framing a face devoid of expression—black eyes empty, lips sealed in silence. A sleek blue jacket with a purple collar draped over his shoulders, blending into black pants and boots that seemed to swallow sound, his presence almost ghostly.

Another, a hulking figure, lumbered into the room, his dark brown cap pulled low over a face split by a wide, toothy grin, yellow teeth gleaming in the dim light. His green jacket, stretched tight over broad shoulders, bore a yellow band across the chest, the sleeves broad and bulky. Black pants hugged his thick legs, grounded by heavy boots that thudded with each step, his massive, scarred hands resting on his hips.

Finally, a figure with long black hair mixed with green flowed like a dark tide, his dark eyes glowing with a predatory gleam. His tattered red coat, edged with wear, featured a darker red patch that pulsed like a heartbeat. Paired with black pants accented by green stripes running down the sides, his polished black boots clicked with authority as he moved.

“Uhhh, is this the right place, Abbonox?” questioned the hulking figure, his voice rumbling with uncertainty.

“Why yes, it is, my tubby friend,” replied the one in red with blue hair, his smirk widening. This was Abbonox, his yellow eyes glinting with confidence.

“I knew we should have asked for directions sooner or later, Amon,” responded the one with green-mixed black hair snarkily, his tone sharp and impatient.

The figure with deep blue hair blushed, a soft pink tinting her cheeks as she murmured, “I suppose Ramixe.” Her voice trembled slightly, the vibrant blue strands of her hair catching the dim light.

“It would have been logical,” declared the one with red and black hair, their tone clipped and analytical, the tattered red coat with its darker patch rustling as they shifted.

“For once I agree with the soulless Newton,” mused the one with periwinkle long hair, a playful edge to their words, the flowing locks swaying gently.

“Quiet Pythos,” interjected Abbonox, waving his hands with a flourish, “we have to meet these guys.” The yellow-eyed teenage fiend smirked, his yellow cape fluttering behind his red coat. “Greetings, I am Abbonox,” he announced, his grin widening.

“Yeah, we got that,” Mercury snarked, flipping a page of his comic with exaggerated disinterest, his boots still propped on the chair.

“Suppose it’s wrong to ask if you’re still taking,” ventured Ramixe, her voice hesitant. “Our boss sent us to find allies to work with.”

Cinder narrowed her amber eyes, her gaze piercing as she leaned forward, the sharp edges of her smile cutting through the dimness. “Yes… but what are your end goals?”

Abbonox draped his hands back casually, his tone laced with ambition. “I wish for a world where the strong rule over the weak,” he mused. “As me and my allies have suffered too long under an unjust society and seek true change for this world.”

Emerald glanced sidelong at Cinder, her voice a low whisper. “Are you sure you want these guys?”

Cinder’s response was measured, her eyes never leaving the newcomers. “For now, at least, to see how useful they are and to figure out where their true allegiance falls—and who is their master.”

Emerald sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Fine, you weirdos are in.”

“Oh, thank you, we won’t fail you,” said Amon, his gratitude evident in his earnest tone, his periwinkle hair catching the light as he nodded.

“Oh, you’re pretty nice for criminals,” Mercury quipped sarcastically, his smirk widening.

Amon nodded again, oblivious. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Mercury shot back, rolling his eyes.

Abbonox straightened, his yellow eyes glinting with confidence. “And do not worry, Miss Fall,” he said smoothly. “The Marauders are far more expansive and powerful than they act.”

For a moment, silence settled over the speakeasy, the weight of unspoken promises and hidden motives hanging in the air. Cinder rose from her chair, her movements deliberate, the faint glow of Dust crystals reflecting in her gaze. “Power is a currency I respect,” she said, her voice cold yet intrigued. “Prove your worth at the port tomorrow—Atlas-grade Dust awaits, and failure is not an option. Giran has secured your entry; do not disappoint me.”

Emerald nodded, her expression hardening as she stepped forward to brief them on the mission, while Mercury tossed his comic aside with a theatrical groan. The newcomers exchanged glances—Ramixe’s blush deepened, Newton’s posture stiffened, Pythos smirked faintly, and Amon’s gratitude lingered in his eyes—before Abbonox gave a theatrical bow, his cape sweeping the floor. Thus the group began to discuss plans of whatever trouble it could bring.

______________________________________________________________________
“What’s that? Whoa, Dad, is that the place?” questioned a tanned-skinned girl with red hair styled in pigtails. She also had bangs parted from the left, secured with two orange and white hair clips, and her maroon eyes sparkled with excitement. She wore a long-sleeved orange dress with a white stripe that extended up to her neck and stopped above her knees, paired with white socks and orange boots featuring white wedges.

A tired professor yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, Sari, I’ve already told you—this is Hinobi Corporate, in the Vale District.”

“Oh, oh right,” nodded Sari eagerly, her head bobbing as she peered out the window while they parked.

Professor Sumdac opened the doors of the vehicle after they parked, allowing Sari to hop out onto the sidewalk. “So, do I come with you, or wait in the lobby?” she asked, her voice brimming with anticipation.

The lobby of Hinobi Corporate buzzed with sterile efficiency. Its bright white and light blue floors gleamed under harsh overhead lights, reflecting the crisp professionalism of the environment. Blue-shirted employees moved briskly, assisting customers with a practiced cheerfulness that stood in stark contrast to the more chaotic energy of Professor Isaac Sumdac’s own company, Sumdac Systems. Sari Sumdac, a young girl with fiery red pigtails and an endless well of curiosity, plopped into one of the lobby chairs, her legs swinging back and forth as she absorbed her surroundings. Her father, Professor Sumdac, stood nearby, his tall, spiky hair—marked by its distinctive white lightning bolt stripe—catching the light as he adjusted his glasses, a habit born of both distraction and deep thought.

“Hmmm… oh,” Professor Sumdac murmured, his voice trailing off as his gaze landed on a woman approaching them. She was a striking figure, her robust frame accentuated by a sharp gray business suit. The tailored jacket and skirt fit her perfectly, and a green tie added a splash of color against her white shirt. In one hand, she held a bright yellow folder, a red pen tucked into its edge, suggesting she was either deep in thought or preparing for something important. Her other hand adjusted her glasses, the lenses briefly reflecting the lobby’s bright lights as she tilted her head. A green headband kept her light pale brown hair neatly in place, giving her a polished yet approachable appearance. Her wide smile and expressive eyes hinted at warmth, but there was an undeniable air of authority about her.

“Greetings, I’m Barbara,” she said cheerfully, extending a hand toward Professor Sumdac. Her voice was bright, but there was a sharpness to it, a sign of someone who took her work seriously.

“So you’re Inspector 7?” Professor Sumdac asked, his tone tinged with exhaustion. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday—he couldn’t quite recall when—and the long journey to Hinobi had left him scattered.

“Yes, I am,” Barbara replied, her smile unwavering. “Welcome to Hinobi Corporate, Professor Sumdac. We’ve heard so much about you and your company.”

“Well, it’s an honor to be recognized by one of the most highly favored companies,” Isaac said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and curiosity. “So, why did you call me in?”

Barbara’s expression shifted slightly, her cheerfulness tempered by a professional seriousness. “Ah, to discuss combining our efforts—or at least working together,” she said, her tone confident but measured. She gestured toward a hallway leading to private offices. “Shall we talk more privately?”

Isaac nodded, though his mind was already wandering to the myriad of projects back at Sumdac Systems. He trusted easily, sometimes too easily, and the idea of collaboration with Hinobi intrigued him. He glanced at Sari, who was still rocking in her chair, her blue eyes wide with interest. “Stay here, Sari. We won’t be long.”

Sari pouted slightly but nodded, pulling out a small gadget from her pocket—a toy robot her father had built for her. She began tinkering with it absentmindedly, her natural intelligence shining through even in idle moments.

As Isaac and Barbara walked down the hallway, Barbara’s demeanor remained cheerful but astute. She was diligent, her mind always cataloging details, assessing risks, and ensuring everything was in order. Years ago, before she rose to her current position, she had been a Glitch Tech, working alongside Phil to handle tech anomalies. Back then, she’d earned the nickname “Bookworm Barbara” for her love of reading and her knack for solving problems through knowledge. Now, as Inspector 7, she approached every interaction with the same thoroughness, unbiased and unafraid to point out potential hazards, even to a genius like Sumdac.

Inside the meeting room, Barbara set her yellow folder on the table and opened it, revealing neatly organized documents and charts. “Your work with robotics is revolutionary, Professor,” she began, her voice steady. “Hinobi sees great potential in partnering with Sumdac Systems. Our tech could complement yours, especially in civilian applications. No military projects, of course—I know that’s a line you won’t cross.”

Isaac nodded, his expression earnest. “Absolutely. My focus has always been on improving human life, not endangering it.” He leaned forward, his spiky hair casting a shadow on the table. “But I’ll need to see more details. My company’s reputation depends on transparency.”

Barbara’s smile returned, though it was now more calculated. “Of course. I’ll walk you through everything. But first, let me assure you—Hinobi’s goals align with yours. We want to build, not destroy.”

Outside in the lobby, Sari continued to wait, her fingers deftly adjusting the tiny robot’s circuits. She was used to her father’s absent-minded nature, his tendency to lose track of time or forget basic needs like eating. But she also knew he was a genius, a man who had changed the world with his inventions. Still, there was a part of her that felt isolated, sheltered in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She had no friends her age, only the robots and gadgets her father created, and the occasional visits from business associates like Barbara.

As the minutes ticked by, Sari’s mind wandered to the stories her father had told her—vague, fragmented tales of discoveries and breakthroughs. She wondered what Hinobi wanted with them, and why Barbara seemed so confident yet so serious. For now, though, she stayed put, her legs still swinging, her bright eyes scanning the lobby as she waited for her father to return.
______________________________________________________________________
MECH, a notorious enemy to governments, Huntsmen, and heroes alike, operated with a singular vision: to forge a "newer world order" through the ruthless application of cutting-edge technology. For MECH, acquiring such technology often meant stealing it. Their ultimate goal was to reshape the world with innovations they could uncover or create, trading arms and intel with other factions for whatever they desired. Comprised of criminals, ex-military personnel, and mercenaries, MECH had grown into a formidable force, bolstered by alliances with other shadowy groups.

One of their key figures, operating under the codename Silas, was the former Colonel Leland Bishop. Once a member of Special Tactics within the US Military, Bishop had championed ambitious weapon designs, including Project: Damocles—a space-operated satellite. However, the project was deemed too extreme and was scrapped, leading to his dishonorable discharge. Undeterred, Bishop went rogue, founding the terrorist organization MECH. Recruiting other disillusioned Special Tactics soldiers, he adopted the alias Silas and channeled MECH’s resources into realizing his vision of a New World Order.

Over time, other factions joined forces with MECH for arms dealing and mutual benefit, expanding their reach and influence. Today, however, Silas faced a new challenge. He was tracking something critical, rumored to be located at Hinobi Corporation. Even he recognized the danger of crossing them directly, given their formidable skills and resources, so for now, he could only watch and plan.

Silas sat in his base, surrounded by suited, goggled operatives who tracked new leads on this elusive item, along with any other valuable intel they could uncover. A notification pinged on his screen: a message from the Metal Forge, a new ally sharing his ideals of metal supplanting the frail world of flesh.

He tapped the screen, and a hologram flickered to life, revealing a bronze-armored knight-like figure whose glowing visor pulsed as he spoke.

“So, Silas, I’m pleased to hear you’ve joined our service,” commented the bronze figure, his voice gravelly and authoritative.

“Thank you. Now I’m happy to know you’ll be donating weapons to us,” replied Silas, the scarred man smirking with satisfaction.

“We’ve heard you’ve been having trouble locating certain groups of special items, and Hinobi seems to be holding you back—or progressing ahead of you,” responded the armored figure, his tone steady but probing.

Silas nodded. “Of course. First rule of combat—never leave the enemy with the spoils.”

“Luckily, we have our own loyal sentinels we’ll be sending to assist with the search. They’re currently scouring for anything useful, and we’ll help you retrieve whatever you need.”

“Perfect, just as planned. And Sovereign?” asked Silas, his voice carrying a hint of impatience.

“Yes?”

“When do I get to meet your superiors?” Silas pressed.

“For now, all I can do is put in a good word for you. We’re assembling this legion—a nexus of many hardened underworlders—to collaborate in a perfect network of our making. However, we’re still determining who we can trust and work with for now.”

Silas paused, considering this. “Fair enough.”

The Metal Forge lieutenant ended the transmission, leaving Silas to adjust his plans, particularly revisiting one of his old projects. His scarred fingers danced over the console, a glint of ambition in his eyes as he plotted his next move against Hinobi and the world beyond.
______________________________________________________________________
Levero found himself skulking through the Evergreen Forest with the rest of the Marauders not currently under Abbonox’s control, searching for anything of note. The black-haired teen, with his sharp wit and sharper shadows, led the group, which included the light blue-haired brute Dinzo, the slicked green-haired Enzo, the masked near-shinobi-looking girl Curie, and the purple-haired, masked Azalea. He would have had more companions, but one was currently at base with their dark master, and another was still being constructed.

Levero kicked at some rocks, muttering, “Slim pickings today.”

“Where’s the boss?” questioned Dinzo, his deep voice rumbling with impatience.

“For now, my burly friend, I don’t know,” stated Levero, shrugging. “We were supposed to be tracking energy signals for artifacts or weapons. Suppose we won’t find anything here.”

“Of course, another waste of time,” huffed Curie beneath her mask, her tone dripping with frustration.

“Oh, it wasn’t a complete waste,” smirked Azalea, her fangs glinting as she spoke. “I managed to get more spiders under my sway.”

“Yeah, really important,” snarked Levero, rolling his eyes. Enzo chuckled, his voice smooth and hammy. “Lighten up, Levero. You won’t have to worry about them when I’m leading my own group.”

Levero snickered, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. For now, let’s see if we can find anything useful.”

Dinzo’s scroll blinked, and he grunted, “Errr, boss, I just found something…”

Levero perked up, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, jackpot time!” He followed Dinzo, the group weaving through the winding trees.

“Ugh, I think Dinzo’s leading us on a wild goose chase,” snarked Curie, while Azalea climbed agilely through the branches above.

“No, I’m serious. I’m tracking a huge energy boost,” stated Dinzo, sputtering slightly in his haste.

“Oh, have you gotten that fixed yet, my friend?” Enzo chuckled, his voice dripping with mock concern as he dangled a cracked orb pulsing faintly with dark energy between his fingers. His green hair shimmered faintly, as if applauding his own wit.

Levero snorted, rolling his eyes with a devious smirk. “Oh, guys, don’t have doubts, for I have—woah!” He paused mid-boast, his shadow blade freezing as his gaze locked onto the orb. The whole group—Dinzo and the others included—gasped in unison, ink dripping from their forms as the orb’s pulse quickened, casting eerie shadows across the forest floor. Levero’s snarky grin faltered, replaced by a mix of awe and greed, while Enzo’s smirk widened, his theatrical calm unbroken.

Levero peered curiously. “What is that?”

It was a glowing blue, crystal-like item, shining repeatedly, lodged in a small crater in the ground as if it had fallen from the sky. Everyone looked curious. Enzo nudged Levero forward. “Come on, oh great leader.”

Levero rolled his eyes, scoffing, before hesitantly stepping forward. Luckily, nothing bad happened, so he walked more confidently, seeing it was seemingly safe. Levero perked up, sauntering over with a shadow blade spinning in his hand. “Well, hello, shiny,” he drawled, his voice dripping with devious delight. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?” He hesitated for a split second—something about that glow felt off—then shrugged, inching his ink-stained fingers closer with a hammy chuckle. “Let’s make a deal, huh? You sparkle, I cash in!”

The moment his ink-stained fingers brushed it, the crystal flared. Levero stumbled back, shadows surging around him as electric sparks danced up his arm. “Woah, woah—easy now!” he yelped, his voice booming with hammy bravado. The light coalesced, and a figure emerged—small but striking, a six-winged humanoid girl draped in white-and-gold armor, her lower face and hips the only skin visible beneath her moth-like shell. Her black talons gleamed, and twin electric blades—the Brilliant Twinblades—materialized in her hands with a high-pitched hum. She floated upward, wings unfurling like a bat’s, her childish voice cutting through the air with a pronounced lisp. “Who’th thith thilly boy touchin’ my cwytthal?” Obrona tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of mockery and menace, a cheeky grin spreading across her face.

Levero blinked, shadows coiling tighter as he regained his footing, then flashed a devious grin, seeing potential in her. “Silly boy? Nah, I’m Levero, the Marauder Master—best deal in our great empire!” He puffed out his chest, voice booming with jolly ham. “And you’re my new sparkplug, huh? Look at you—fancy blades, fancy wings! Who are ya, anyhow?”

Obrona giggled—a high-pitched, psychopathic sound—twirling her Twinblades with agile grace as electric arcs snapped between them. “Thparkplug? Heehee, I’m Obwona, and I’m gonna zap all the bad guyth ‘til they cwy!” She floated closer, her wings humming with ether, her lisp thickening as she mocked him. “You’re kinda funny, thadow boy—let’th pway a game! I cut, you bleed, we win!” Her grin widened, sadistic yet childish, but then she paused, eyeing the ink dripping from his hair. “Ooh, you’re one of thothe inky freakyth? Maybe you’re not tho bad!”

Levero laughed, snarky and loud, shadow tendrils snapping playfully as ink mingled with her static. “Freaky? Sweetheart, I’m the whole package—shadows, ink, and a deal you can’t refuse!” He spun his shadow blade, stepping closer with a salesman’s swagger. “Let’s make it a show—zap ‘em, slash ‘em, and leave ‘em begging for more! Whaddya say, Obby?”

Obrona’s eyes sparkled with delight, her wings flaring as the bond snapped into place—electricity weaving into his shadows, ink sparking with her power. “Obby? Heehee, I like you, thadow boy! Let’th be fwee—fwee to zap and thlash and win!” She darted around him, a fragile speedster buzzing with energy, her Twinblades crackling. “Bad guyth won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Levero grinned wider, shadows surging as he felt her electric might amplify his own. “Oh, we’re gonna sell ‘em their own graves, sparkplug! Welcome to the Marauders—time to deal some pain, my favorite bargain!” He roared with laughter, already plotting their next chaotic spree.

“Hold it,” stated Curie, grabbing Levero’s arm. “Excuse me, miss.”

Curie dragged Levero back to the group. “Okay, are you sure you want this weirdo on the team?”

Dinzo nodded, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, she seems… off. More off than us…”

“I like her. She seems so cute,” mused Azalea, smirking.

“I say we should,” mused Enzo, his interest piqued by this being. “For now, at least. Considering the crystal she came from, who’s to say there aren’t more of these that could bolster our master’s power?”

“See?” nodded Levero, smiling triumphantly.

“Ugh… fine,” sighed Curie, huffing. “Well, add another weirdo to the team.”

“Do you have room for one more?” questioned a voice from the trees. Everyone, including Obrona, looked up to see a pale-skinned teenage boy with horns hanging in the branches.

“Great, who are you?” stated Curie sarcastically.

The teenager swung down using his tail, landing gracefully on the ground. “The name’s Charcoal, the greatest guy you’ll ever meet.”

“Yippee,” snarked Curie. Enzo placed a hand on her shoulder. “Easy, let’s see what he has to say.”

“So, Charcoal? What’s your deal?” asked Levero, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I come from a rather hot place… but it’s, ehh, so crowded. You see, I need a place to crash, and you guys seem to share the same ideas as me,” he mused.

“Okay, sure,” stated Levero casually.

“Wait, it was that easy?” questioned Charcoal, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” stated Curie, waving her hands. “Levero, you can’t be serious about hiring this… traveler.”

“We’re running out of guys for our group,” mused Dinzo.

“Exactly, we should allow him to join,” stated Levero.

“I agree. If he’s an enemy, we should keep him close to know where he came from,” stated Enzo, watching Charcoal curiously.

Azalea pulled Curie aside to a patch of trees. “Come on, Curie, calm down. You need to be more willing to trust.”

Curie’s glowing pupils glared through her mask. “The last time I trusted anyone, I lost…”

“Shhh… boop,” stated Azalea softly, headbutting the other black-haired girl gently. “You shouldn’t stress. That was far back in time, and besides, if he turns out to be an enemy, we’ll kill him.”

“…Mmm… alright,” sighed Curie.

“Alright, you’re on the team,” snarked Curie, returning to the group.

“Oh, huzzah. Besides, I had already put him on the team while you guys were gone,” snarked Levero.

“Of course,” snarked Curie back.

Obrona perked up, her wings buzzing as she twirled her Twinblades, her voice high-pitched with a lisp. “Finawy, the gang’th hewe—can we thtart zappin’ thtuff now, pweathe?” She giggled, a mischievous grin spreading.

Everyone exchanged looks. “Sure.”

As they traveled deeper into the forest, Charcoal nudged Levero. “Now that we’re working together, I need to warn you about an annoying enemy of mine.”

Enzo raised a brow, while Curie rolled her eyes under her mask.

“What enemy?” Dinzo questioned.

“Venith, another one of my obstacles from my other lands,” said Charcoal, glaring at the ground as he walked.

“Dang, you seem to have a lot of hate towards her,” said Azalea.

“Well, more like finding her annoying,” responded Charcoal. “I just hope she’s not anywhere on this planet.”
______________________________________________________________________
Speaking of Venith…
The swamped wastes of Mistral stretched out before Venith, a labyrinth of murky waters and dense, choking vegetation that seemed to swallow the light. Fog hung heavy in the air, curling around the gnarled roots and dripping trees like a living thing, obscuring her vision and muffling the distant, ominous growls of Grimm lurking just beyond sight. Venith sighed, her British-accented voice carrying a mix of frustration and resignation.

“Great, just great,” she muttered, kicking at a puddle that rippled darkly. “Lost. Just lost.”

Her spiky, punky bob cut—part of her human disguise—glistened with moisture, and her purple uniform, tailored like a tailcoat in the back, clung uncomfortably to her frame. Despite the perilous environment, she remained calm, her dark nature giving her an edge. Her powers, subtle but potent, hummed beneath her pale skin, ready to fend off any threat. But for now, the biggest enemy was her own disorientation.

“Hmmm… where to go from here,” she mused aloud, her compelling voice cutting through the swamp’s oppressive silence. Her hypnotic eyes, hidden behind a flicker of irritation, scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of direction.

Unbeknownst to her, a shadow moved through the fog—a figure cloaked in malice and purpose. Jinx, her sharp features and ink-suit resemblance to her voice actress unmistakable, stepped forward, her Sinister Scythe glinting ominously in the dim light. Her mission to snuff out joy had led her here, to this forsaken place, and now she sensed an opportunity. The Ghost Council’s ruthless agent had no patience for distractions, and Venith’s presence, though unfamiliar, piqued her interest.

“You look like you’re in over your head,” Jinx called out, her voice deceptively friendly but laced with a cold edge. Her eyes, calculating and cruel, locked onto Venith. “Lost, are we? Perhaps I can… help.”

Venith turned, her longcoat swishing as she faced the newcomer. Her purple eyes narrowed, catching the glint of Jinx’s scythe and the predatory smirk on her face. Instinctively, her hand twitched, ready to unleash her powers if needed. But something about Jinx’s aura—dark, ambitious, and eerily familiar—made her pause.

“And who might you be?” Venith asked, her British accent crisp and skeptical. “Another lost soul, or something more… troublesome?”

Jinx chuckled, a sound that was equal parts amusement and menace. “Oh, I’m no soul, lost or otherwise. I’m Jinx. And you, my dear, look like you could use a guide—or an enemy. Depends on how this plays out.”
“So who’s asking,” queried Venith.
“Well I work for a council,” mused Jinx smirking.
“Funny me too, sent out on exploration to find someone,” asked Venith.
“Same suppose if you can help me find who I’m looking for I’ll help you.”
“Well you see I’m looking for a dark one called Charcoal..you?”
“A certain blue ghost for me,” stated the purple ghost with a smirk.
______________________________________________________________________
The Cyberverse is a world of code, a land of chaos and near-total anarchy, where control is a distant memory ever since the lords who once ruled it fell. Most of the remaining territories in this cyber void operate under their own chaotic rules, largely independent of external influence, thriving in a state of perpetual disorder.

One such stronghold was nestled in the Cyberspace Wastes, where the ruins of an ancient castle stood as a silent sentinel. Surprisingly, despite the desolate wasteland surrounding it, the castle housed a hidden, advanced base nearby, buzzing with activity. It was heavily guarded, its defenses nearly impenetrable—black armor with glowing green cyberspace energy lines adorned the perimeter, and towering structures pulsed with their own radiant energy, filled with workers and enforcers. Whoever occupied this place was clearly busy, their operations shrouded in secrecy and power.

Inside, two of the main lieutenants oversaw the chaos: Doctor Viel and Doctor Glitchsty. Both were cyan-skinned villains, their shades-like goggles glinting as they typed furiously on screens, mapping out dimensions within the Cyberverse. They were also tracking a new vessel their current master required, their fingers dancing across holographic interfaces.

“The new Proto-Max Armor seems to be working well,” mused Dr. Glitchsty, his voice smooth but edged with excitement.

“Indeed. Hopefully, it performs as effectively as it did for Hazard and his crew of misfits,” mused Dr. Viel, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“Speaking of which, something hazardous this way comes,” stated Glitchsty, his tone dry but anticipatory.

The automated doors hissed open, and a tall, yellow-haired teen strode in. His distinctive hairstyle featured blue streaks on either side, contrasting boldly with the yellow, while a black eye patch with a single white highlight covered one eye, lending him a cool, mysterious, almost piratical air. He wore a striped shirt in shades of yellow and brown, paired with blue shoes matching his hair streaks.

“Totally, Glitchsty, it’s me, bro! Safe to say the vessel process was, like, totally rad and flawless for yours truly,” smirked the teen, Hazard, flashing yellow teeth with a chill, confident demeanor.

“Ugh… we must get you to stop watching old Earth tapes,” mused Viel, rubbing his temples in exasperation.

“Yo, my bad, but what’s the 411 on those ginormous capsules, dude?” questioned Hazard, his curiosity piqued.

“Ahh, those carry the specimens for a special project,” smirked Dr. Glitchsty, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee.

“Whoa, really?” questioned Hazard, leaning in closer.

“All from that one little high school—Ryōō, was it?” stated Glitchsty, his tone laced with dark humor.

“Yes, yes… shame they died in that ‘accident,’” chuckled Viel, his smirk widening. “As for you, Hazard, I want you and your gang to expand operations. Get our allies—or whoever’s close. We need to start building up our forces for a little upheaval, all for our emperor.”

Hazard nodded, his sharp teeth glinting as he smiled. “You got it, dude! No sweat, man!”

With that, he bounded out the door, his energy infectious but reckless.

“So, it seems the game is on,” mused Glitchsty, his gaze fixed on a screen displaying the Hinobi logo.

“For now, Project Radiative can begin,” stated Viel, smirking with anticipation.
______________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere at the Prestigious Beacon Academy…

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the dorm room curtains, one unlucky beam found its target: the green-haired teenager sprawled across his bed. The dorm, a modest but lively space, housed four huntsmen of Beacon Academy. Izuku Midoriya stirred, the light dancing on his closed eyelids finally becoming too insistent to ignore. With a groggy mutter, he blinked awake, the weight of another day settling in.

As the leader of Team Mido, Izuku stretched, his muscles protesting after a restless night. Though part of him yearned to bury himself back under the covers, he knew it was time to start the day. He carefully gathered his scattered hero notes from the tangled mess of his bedsheets, each page filled with sketches, strategies, and observations—a testament to his unrelenting dedication. Glancing around the room, he assessed the situation.

In the small restroom attached to the dorm, two of his teammates were already up and active. Ochako Uraraka, with her warm brown hair tied back, and Mina Ashido, her pink skin glowing faintly in the morning light, were brushing their teeth side by side. Their chatter and occasional laughter echoed softly, a familiar morning ritual that brought a faint smile to Izuku’s face.

Meanwhile, Denki Kaminari was still lost to the world, sprawled across his bed in a haphazard tangle of blankets. His golden hair stuck out at odd angles, and a faint snore escaped him—a typical sight, given his reputation for being the last to rise. Izuku shook his head fondly, knowing it would take more than sunlight to rouse his electric-powered friend.
Ochako wiped her mouth with a towel, her brown eyes catching sight of Izuku as he shuffled through his hero notes. "Morning, Deku!" she called out cheerfully, her voice brightening the still-sleepy room. "You’re up early again. Don’t tell me you were studying all night!"
Mina, grinning beside her, added, "Yeah, Deku, save some brainpower for fighting Grimm, okay?" Her pink skin seemed to shimmer with amusement as she glanced at Denki’s snoring form. "Unlike some people who could sleep through an Ursa attack."
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish smile. "Just… making sure we’re ready, that’s all."
As Ochako and Mina stepped out of the restroom, still chatting about the day ahead, Ochako’s expression shifted to curiosity. She glanced at Mina, who was now stretching her arms dramatically. "So, what do you think All Might wanted to talk to you about?" Ochako asked, her voice tinged with both concern and intrigue.

Mina shrugged, sticking her tongue out playfully. "Errr… dunno," she said, her tone light but a little nervous. "Maybe he’s finally noticed my awesome combat skills? Or… he needs help with something super important!"

At that moment, Izuku, who had been quietly organizing his notes, looked up with wide, sparkling eyes. "This is so exciting! You’re being called by All Might himself!" he exclaimed eagerly, his voice practically vibrating with admiration. "It could be a special mission, or maybe he wants to train you personally, Mina!"

Mina blinked, then grinned at Izuku’s enthusiasm. "Easy there, Deku! Don’t short-circuit like Kaminari over there," she teased, nodding toward Denki, who was still snoring loudly in his bed.

Ochako chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, whatever it is, it’s a big deal. All Might doesn’t call just anyone, Mina. You should be proud!"
"Sure, but I wonder what he wants to talk about," stated Mina, her brows furrowing in thought as she tapped her chin. The uncertainty about All Might’s summons lingered in her mind, mixing excitement with a touch of nerves.

Ochako shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. With a flick of her wrist, she used her Quirk (or Semblance, in this RWBY crossover) to float a crumpled paper ball over Denki’s sleeping head. "Who knows, but it has to be something important," she said, her tone light but confident.

Suddenly, Ochako let the paper ball drop, letting gravity take over. It landed squarely on Denki’s face with a soft thwap. He jolted awake, flailing as he sat up. "Ahhh! The reign of the leprechaun is no more!" he yelled, his voice groggy and panicked, before blinking blearily at his teammates. "Oh, hey guys…"

Everyone chuckled, the tension breaking as Izuku shook his head fondly, Mina grinned widely, and Ochako covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Even in the early morning, Team MIDO’s camaraderie shone through.
Anyhow, the group gathered in a loose circle in the middle of their dorm room, the morning light now fully illuminating the space. The lingering excitement about All Might’s summons hung in the air, but they knew they couldn’t just stand around speculating forever. "So, what do we do from here?" Izuku asked, his green eyes scanning his teammates as he clutched his notebook, already jotting down a few quick thoughts. His voice carried that familiar mix of determination and nervousness, the weight of leadership settling on his shoulders.

Ochako tapped her chin, her brown hair swaying as she considered their options. "Well, we could head to the training grounds early, get some practice in before classes," she suggested, her tone practical but upbeat. "Or maybe check the mission board—see if there’s anything new about Grimm sightings."

Mina stretched dramatically, her pink skin catching the light as she grinned. "Or we could just wing it! I mean, if All Might’s got something big planned, we’ll need to be ready for anything, right? But first…" She glanced down at her pajamas, which were adorned with bright pink star patterns. "We should probably get dressed. Can’t exactly fight in bunny slippers."

Denki, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, yawned loudly and flopped back onto his bed. "Ugh, do we have to? I was having the best dream about unlimited pancakes…" His golden hair was even more disheveled now, sticking up in every direction. But when Ochako shot him a mock-stern look, he groaned and sat up. "Fine, fine! I’ll get dressed. But if I trip over my boots, it’s on you, Uraraka."

Everyone chuckled, the tension easing as they began to move. Izuku set his notebook aside, rolling his shoulders as he headed toward his wardrobe. "Okay, let’s do it. Getting dressed, then we’ll figure out our next move. If All Might called Mina, it could be a test of our teamwork—or something even bigger."

Ochako nodded, already floating a few scattered items off the floor—socks, a hairbrush, Denki’s misplaced shoe—to speed things along. "Right! Let’s make sure we look sharp, Team Mido. We’re huntsmen now, after all!"

Mina grabbed her combat outfit, a vibrant mix of colors that matched her energetic personality, while Denki stumbled toward his own wardrobe, muttering something about "leprechauns and pancakes."
______________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere, at Hinobi Headquarters…

A bright green portal shimmered and dissipated as a certain quirkless girl stepped through, her boots clicking softly against the sleek floor of Hinobi Headquarters. Melissa Shield, daughter of the renowned inventor David Shield and an old friend of All Might, emerged into the bustling travel hub. The portal’s glow faded behind her, leaving her in the vast, white-walled expanse of the headquarters, a labyrinth of innovation where inventors and technicians from across the world converged.

Melissa was a pale-skinned young woman of slightly above average height, her round face framed by wavy blonde hair that cascaded halfway down her back. Two shorter strands fell over her shoulders, and her side-swept bangs gently framed her aqua-blue eyes, which sparkled with determination and curiosity. Her upper eyelashes were notably long, with some extending outward, and her lower lashes added a soft contrast. Today, she wore a sleek Hinobi tech suit—form-fitting, silver-gray with glowing blue accents—that hummed faintly with embedded technology, a testament to her desire to follow in her father’s footsteps.

Taking a deep breath, Melissa adjusted the small toolkit strapped to her belt and murmured to herself, “Hmmm, I wonder where I should go?” Her voice carried a mix of excitement and uncertainty. She stood in one of Hinobi’s travel hubs, a nexus of portals that allowed instant travel between sectors, each glowing archway labeled with destinations like “Bailey,” “Vale,” and “I-Island.” The hum of machinery and the occasional crackle of energy filled the air, a symphony of progress that reminded her of home.

“Hey there!” a voice screamed, sharp and sudden, cutting through the ambient noise.

Melissa jumped, nearly dropping her toolkit, and spun around to see a strange girl with anemone-shaped pink hair bounding toward her. It was Mei Hatsume, her presence as chaotic and vibrant as ever. Mei was reasonably short, with a sturdy, rough build that belied her boundless energy. Her salmon-pink hair, styled into thick dreadlocks and side-swept to the right, bounced with each step. Her wide, upward-sloping eyes—green-yellow with cross-shaped irises that resembled scope lenses—sparkled with mischief and invention. She wore a plain black tank top, with workshop coveralls tied casually around her waist, and a pair of goggles perched on her head like a crown.

“Errr… hi?” Melissa waved, her confusion evident as she took in Mei’s eccentric appearance.

“Ahhhh… a fellow Hinobi worker!” Mei mused cheerfully, clapping her hands together. Her voice was loud and brimming with enthusiasm, as if she’d just discovered a new prototype to tinker with. “You’ve got that shiny new tech suit—love it! Are you here to revolutionize the industry or just test some gadgets?”

“Wha… oh, yeah, I joined today,” Melissa stammered, recovering her composure. “My father’s working with them—David Shield, an old friend of All Might—and well, I want to follow in his footsteps. Make inventions that help people, you know?”

“Well, that’s the same for me!” Mei smirked, her eyes gleaming with pride. “I love Hinobi’s inventions—they’re almost as good as mine. Almost.” She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Even if what I make doesn’t work the way I planned, it’s all part of the process. Failure is the mother of invention, as Thomas Edison once said!”

“Oh, really?” Melissa tilted her head, intrigued but cautious. Her aqua eyes narrowed slightly, recalling her father’s lessons about perseverance. “Well, I understand because failure is the—”

“—Mother of invention?” Mei finished, her grin widening as if she’d just solved a puzzle.

“Uhhh… yeah, exactly,” Melissa said, shocked but impressed by Mei’s quickness. A small smile crept onto her face, mirroring the optimism in Mei’s expression.

“So anyway, where ya headed?” Mei asked, falling into step beside Melissa as they walked down the pristine white floor of the Hinobi hub. Her boots squeaked slightly, a contrast to Melissa’s silent tech suit.

“I don’t know,” Melissa mused, her gaze drifting to the portal signs. “I think the Bailey Sector. It’s supposed to be nice and peaceful—a good start for me. I can get my bearings, maybe test some designs.”

“Oh, cool! That’s near Vale,” Mei chimed in cheerfully, her voice rising with excitement. “You know, the place with Beacon Academy? Huntsmen and Huntresses, Grimm, all that jazz!”

“Vale… oh right, that place with Beacon Academy,” Melissa facepalmed, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Maybe I should change my plans…”

“Nah, too late—it’s my grounds now!” Mei smirked, her big smile practically radiant. Then, with a wink, she added, “Just kidding… but Bailey’s right there. Perfect spot to brainstorm! You’ll love it.”

“Hahaha, okay, yeah, I’ll check out Bailey,” Melissa laughed, her nerves easing. She stepped toward another portal system, its electronic sign glowing with the word “Bailey” in crisp blue letters. As she entered, Mei gave an enthusiastic wave, already muttering about new “baby” inventions she wanted to show off.

As the portal enveloped Melissa in a swirl of green light, she couldn’t help but smile. “It’s been such a long time since I felt this inspired,” she whispered to herself, echoing the sentiment she’d often shared with her father. Hinobi, Mei, and the promise of Bailey Sector—it all felt like the start of something big.
______________________________________________________________________
At the Dabney Sector of Hinobi…
The Dabney Sector of Hinobi pulsed with a steady hum of technology, a stark contrast to the quieter hum of the neighboring Bailey town. A train rumbled past on the edge of Dabney’s land, its lights slicing through the dusk as it connected the two towns—a lifeline of steel and speed. Dabney itself was a bustling hub, its streets lined with sleek buildings and glowing signs, but at its heart stood the Dabney Hinobi Store and its headquarters: a fortress of innovation where Glitch Techs and the newly added Ink Guardians worked tirelessly to shield their town from digital threats.

Three boys lingered outside.

“So, this is the place?” questioned Perrie, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Of course, you idiot,” said Xan, ruffling Perrie’s hair with a smirk.

“Good. I want no interruptions,” stated Serue seriously, striding toward the office with purpose.

They were discreetly directed away from the customers, posing as temporary employees. Other staff guided them to the locker section, where a blue-tinted portal shimmered open, allowing the three boys to land in the real headquarters.

“Woah…” breathed the new recruits in unison, their eyes wide as they took in the sight.

“Hey,” called a voice. The three jumped, turning to see a green-haired girl before they could respond.

“Sup, I’m Simi. Those over there are my group—Nameless, Wes, and Ray,” she said coolly, gesturing with a casual wave.

Inside the headquarters, the command room buzzed with activity. Holographic screens lined the walls, displaying glitch signatures, portal maps, and training simulations. Their blue and white light cast an ethereal glow over the team. At the center stood Nameless, the charismatic leader of the Dabney Glitch Techs, his helmet’s digital eyes flickering with focus. His white suit, accented with black sleeves, gray knee padding, and the blue Hinobi symbol with a white “H,” was pristine, but his synthesized voice carried a mix of authority and playfulness. Beside him were Wes and Ray Sreebny, the half-identical twins, their lanky frames mirroring each other in white uniforms with green-tinted visors and goggles. Simi, recently transferred from Bailey, paced nearby, her vibrant green hair and gear a splash of color against the sterile backdrop, her gauntlet glowing as she fine-tuned a console. Overseeing it all from her office above was Joan Fishback, her deadpan gaze scanning the room through the glass, ready with a sharp comment if needed.

But today, the room wasn’t just filled with veterans. A trio of rookie Ink Guardians—Perrie, Serue, and Xan—stood nervously at the edge, their suits shimmering with the signature colors of their roles. Perrie, the cheerful keet, bounced on his toes, his chartreuse hair and suit practically glowing with excitement. His wide grin and eager eyes marked him as the youngest and most energetic of the group. Serue, with his light black hair, cerulean lines on his suit, light blue eyes, and brown skin, stood like a serious but clearly out-of-his-depth soldier, arms crossed and gaze fixed on the floor. Xan, with his black hair, serious demeanor, and yellow suit, leaned against a wall, aloof but watchful, his yellow eyes flicking between Perrie and Serue, a silent bond evident despite his cool exterior. All three were new to the field but eager to prove themselves under the Dabney team’s guidance.

Nameless, the helmeted leader with his digital eyes flickering, stepped forward, his white suit gleaming with the blue Hinobi symbol and black accents. His synthesized voice boomed with authority, but there was a theatrical edge to it, as if he were about to launch into a dramatic monologue. “Team, attention!” he declared, striking a Sentai pose—arm extended, legs apart, helmet eyes narrowing for effect. “We’ve detected a glitch cluster near the train tracks. Low-level, but fast-moving. A threat to Dabney’s peace cannot stand! For honor, for Hinobi, and for the glory of our turf, we strike!”

Simi, standing just to his right, rolled her green eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. Her stylish green hair swayed as she crossed her arms, her gauntlet glowing faintly with readiness. “Yeah, yeah, big speech, helmet-head,” she drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm but tempered by loyalty. “It’s a glitch, not a supervillain. But he’s right—we need to move. Wes, Ray, you’re on recon and hack support. Keep those tracks secure. Last thing we need is some pixelated gremlin derailing a train and making Joan lose her mind.”

Nameless’ helmet eyes flickered in mock offense, but he nodded, conceding her point. “Precisely, my snarky second. You and I will take point—front line, full force. Let’s show these glitches why Dabney rules the sector!”

Wes, adjusting his green-tinted visor, tapped at his console with a smirk. “Flair’s your department, boss. Ray and I’ve got the hacks locked and loaded. If that glitch even thinks about jumping sectors, we’ll shut it down before it blinks.” His lanky frame mirrored his sister’s, both in their white uniforms with grey knee padding and black boots.

Ray, her pink lipstick and tuft of pink hair catching the light, pulled up a security feed on her screen. “Agreed. But if it’s near the tracks, we might need the stationary cannon. Simi, what about the rookies? Think they can handle backup without tripping over themselves?”
Simi paused blushing realizing they were right behind her.
“Right…” she shrugged.
Simi glanced at the trio of rookie Ink Guardians—Perrie, Serue, and Xan—her green eyes narrowing in assessment. Her tone shifted to a mix of challenge and mockery, but there was an edge of mentorship there too. “Maybe. Let’s see if they can keep up.” She turned to them, her voice sharp but encouraging. “You three—Perrie, Serue, Xan. This isn’t a game, got it? Glitches don’t care how shiny your suits are. Perrie, you’re on crowd control—keep civilians clear if this spills. Serue, stick with me; I need your brain on the glitch’s pattern. Xan, cover our flanks and don’t let Perrie drag you down. Clear?”

Perrie, his chartreuse hair and suit practically glowing with excitement, beamed and bounced on his toes. “Crystal clear, Simi! This is gonna be epic! First real mission with the legends—wait ‘til I tell my mom!” His enthusiasm was infectious, if a little chaotic, his young face alight with eagerness.

Serue, with his light black hair, cerulean lines on his suit, light blue eyes, and brown skin, nodded solemnly, his small stature belying his serious demeanor. “Understood, Simi. I’ll analyze the glitch’s vector and minimize collateral damage. But if it escalates, I’m calling for protocol backup.” His voice carried the gravitas of a kid trying to be extremely serious, steady but tinged with nervous determination.

Xan, leaning against the wall in his yellow suit, rolled his serious yellow eyes but pushed off with a curt nod. “Fine. But if Perrie trips, he’s on his own. And Serue, don’t overanalyze—this isn’t a chess match.” His aloof tone was tempered by a flicker of camaraderie as he glanced at his friends, his black hair falling slightly over his forehead.

Nameless chuckled, his helmet eyes softening. “Excellent spirit, rookies! You’ll do Dabney proud—or you’ll learn the hard way. Either way, it’s glorious!” He struck another pose, this time with both arms raised, as if rallying a crowd.

Simi snorted, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Glory’s great, but let’s not blow up the sector, okay? Gear up—we move in five.” She activated her glove, the green energy crackling as she checked her arsenal: mind wipe, energy blasts, and shield formation, all ready to deploy.

From her office above, Joan Fishback’s grumpy voice crackled over the intercom, dry as ever. “Simi, keep Nameless from posing too long, or we’ll lose the glitch to boredom. And rookies—don’t scratch my equipment. I just recalibrated the portals.”

Nameless’ helmet eyes rolled upward, but he laughed, his synthesized voice warm. “Joan of Snark, your faith in us is overwhelming. Fear not, Director—we’ll be back before you can say ‘Itty Bitty Kitty Collector.’”

As the team scrambled to prepare, Simi lingered near the rookies, her green hair swaying as she inspected their gear. “You guys ready? Dabney’s glitches don’t mess around—higher stakes, harder hits. But stick with us, and you might just survive to be legends.”

Perrie nodded eagerly, Serue adjusted his cerulean-lined suit with a determined nod, and Xan have a resolute, “Let’s do it.” Together, they followed Nameless and Simi toward the armory, where Wes and Ray were already loading up with portal devices and hack upgrades, the air thick with anticipation and the promise of action.
“They certainly are a colorful bunch,” mused Serue following them.
“I think they’re cool,” stated Perrie happily.
Xan smirked, “I like the chill girl.”
______________________________________________________________________
The Shadow Nexus hung in the void like a predator stalking its prey, its obsidian hull absorbing the light of distant stars. Inside, the command chamber was a cavern of shadow and menace, its walls lined with pulsating red energy conduits and holographic displays projecting star charts, planetary scans, and the faint, elusive signature of a power long thought extinct. The air crackled with tension, not just from the machinery but from the volatile assembly gathered around the central obsidian table: the leaders of the Galactic Dominion, a coalition of evil aliens bound by mutual distrust and a shared hunger for domination.

At the head of the table sat Emperor Xaraon, his towering green form draped in a cloak of shifting black and purple, his eyes glowing with the cold fire of absolute authority. The dark emperor, his presence was suffocating, his voice a deep, resonant growl that echoed through the chamber. “Silence!” he bellowed, slamming a clawed hand on the table, causing the holograms to flicker. “You squabble like vermin, but the prize we seek is greater than your petty rivalries. A member of the Oni species—once rulers of a thousand galaxies, now hidden—has been detected on a primitive rock called Earth. This is no coincidence. Their power could shatter our dominion… or make it unstoppable.”

Around the table, the faction leaders shifted uneasily, their eyes glinting with greed, suspicion, and barely concealed hatred. Xaxtus, second-in-command and a sleek, squid figure reminiscent of great commanders, leaned forward, his scales shimmering with a sickly green hue. His armor was jagged and militaristic, his eyes narrow slits of calculation. “Emperor, with all due respect,” he hissed, his voice sharp and cutting, “this could be a trap. The Oni vanished for a reason—cowardice, weakness, or worse. Sending me to this mudball Earth is a waste unless we know more.”

The Ambassador, a wiry, multi-limbed creature from Xatus, clicked its mandibles in agreement, its voice a grating buzz. “Xaxtus speaks wisely, Emperor. Xatata and Xantus agree—the risk is high. But the reward…” Its eyes gleamed with avarice. “If we harness an Oni’s power, the Ravagers, the Void, the Herxs—all will bow deeper.”

King Yenzi, a hulking, horned brute from his own faction, slammed a fist on the table, his voice a roar. “Bow? I bow to no one! But if this Oni can crush worlds, I want it for Yenzi’s forces. My warriors hunger for conquest!”

King Zeroxe, a skeletal figure with glowing red eyes, sneered from his seat, his voice a whisper of malice. “Greed will be your undoing, Yenzi. The Void claims all in time. If the Oni is on Earth, we must erase it—before it erases us.”

Prince Razon, young and arrogant, leaned back in his chair, his silver armor gleaming. “Father—King Herxs—agrees with Zeroxe. But why send Xaxtus alone? The Razon fleet could sweep Earth clean in days. Let me lead!”

Leader Nox, shrouded in shadows with glowing yellow slits for eyes, chuckled darkly. “Patience, Razon. The Ravagers thrive on chaos, not haste. Zorak Systems and Vanixe stand ready to dissect this Oni, alive or dead. But Xaxtus has the cunning for stealth. Let him prove his worth.”

Zorak, a towering insectoid from Zorak Systems, clicked its claws, its voice a grating screech. “Agreed. But if Xaxtus fails, Vanixe will claim the glory. Our tech outstrips your brute force, Nox.”

Calypso the Conqueror, green orc-like leader of Team Alien Miazamu, rose from his seat, his form a swirling mass of energy and armor, her voice a seductive hiss. “Enough! This bickering weakens us. The Oni’s power is ours to claim, whether through Xaxtus’ blade or my own conquest. Earth will fall, and with it, the last of their kind.”

Emperor Xaraon raised a hand, silencing the chaos. “Enough! Xaxtus will lead. His ruthlessness and intellect are unmatched for this task. You, Xatus, Xatata, Xantus, Rytos—you will support him with resources. Yenzi, Zeroxe, Razon, Herxs, Nox, Zorak, Vanixe, Calypso—you will hold the line here, ready to strike if he finds the Oni. But mark my words: if this alien is as powerful as legend claims, we must act swiftly. Earth is a backwater, but it hides a weapon—or a threat.”

Xaxtus bowed his head, though his eyes burned with ambition. “As you command, Emperor. I’ll take a stealth frigate, cloak our approach, and scour Earth for this Oni. If they’re hidden, I’ll uncover them. If they’re weak, I’ll crush them. But if they’re strong…” His lips curled into a predatory grin. “We’ll bring their power to you, chained and broken.”

Rytos, the Scientist, a spindly figure with glowing blue tendrils, adjusted his data pad, his voice cold and analytical. “I’ve calibrated the scanners to detect Oni bio-signatures. Their energy is unique—chaotic, potent. Xaxtus, you’ll have the data. But beware: their kind was known to vanish without trace. They may already know we’re coming.”

The Ambassador clicked its mandibles again, its multi-limbed form shifting. “Then ensure discretion, Xaxtus. No witnesses. No survivors. Earth must remain ignorant—until we strike.”

King Yenzi growled, but nodded. King Zeroxe’s red eyes narrowed, Prince Razon sulked, and Leader Nox’s shadows deepened. Calypso’s energy swirled, her impatience palpable. Zorak and Vanixe exchanged a silent, calculating glance, while the lesser leaders—Xatus, Xatata, Xantus—murmured their assent, their rivalry barely contained.

Emperor Xaraon stood, his cloak billowing like a storm. “Go, Xaxtus. The Shadow Nexus will monitor your progress. Find the Oni. Capture or destroy. And remember: the Galactic Dominion tolerates no failure. Their power will be ours—or their extinction will be our triumph.”

Xaxtus straightened, his scales glinting under the crimson glow of the Shadow Nexus’s command chamber. “By your will, Emperor,” he declared, his voice a sharp hiss of obedience and ambition. He turned sharply, his jagged armor clanking with each step as he strode toward the exit, his mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. Earth was a primitive speck in the vast cosmos, its fragile inhabitants unaware of the storm approaching, but if the Oni were there—hidden among them—he would unearth their secret. And if one of them possessed the legendary power, perhaps even unknowingly, he would ensure their legacy ended beneath his claws.

As Xaxtus slid down the dimly lit hallway, the black walls punctuated by eerie green lights casting long shadows, he mused aloud, his synthesized voice low and contemplative. “It seems my leader may be a bit too harsh on this matter.” His slit-like eyes narrowed, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. Emperor Xaraon’s obsession with the Oni could be a weakness, but Xaxtus knew better than to voice such thoughts openly. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a leader willing to adapt might serve the Dominion better than one bound by rigid tyranny.

He passed countless chambers, their doors sealed and glowing with the same unsettling green luminescence, each housing secrets and weapons of the Galactic Dominion. At last, he reached the ship bay, its vast expanse echoing with the hum of dormant machinery. “Suppose it needs a leader to change,” he muttered, a rare hint of introspection in his tone. Whether he meant the Dominion, Earth, or himself, even Xaxtus wasn’t sure.

There, in the center of the bay, stood his ship: the Starblade, a sleek vessel with green lights pulsing along its hull, green lines tracing its curves, and a formidable circular shape that exuded menace and speed. It was one of the few things in the universe Xaxtus cared for—a tool of destruction, yes, but also a symbol of his prowess. He approached it with a predator’s grace, the bay’s overhead lights reflecting off his scales as he entered.

Inside, the cockpit was a cocoon of controls and holograms, bathed in the same green glow. Xaxtus settled into the pilot’s seat, his claws dancing over the console as he input the coordinates for Earth. The ship hummed to life, its engines flaring with a radiant energy that bathed the bay in blinding light. With a low, resonant roar, the Starblade rose from its docking cradle, its green lines pulsing brighter as it detached from the Shadow Nexus. The docking bay doors slid open, revealing the infinite black of space, and the ship surged forward, leaving the massive flagship behind in a trail of glowing energy.

As the Starblade pierced the void, Xaxtus’ mind sharpened. Earth awaited, and with it, the Oni. Whether they were a weapon to claim or a threat to crush, he would find them—and the Galactic Dominion would either rise or fall on his success.
______________________________________________________________________
In Beacon Academy’s training hall, Team RINK honed their skills. The polished wooden mats echoed with the clash of steel and the thud of combat, stretching beneath high, arched windows that let in shafts of golden sunlight. Team RINK, a quartet of Huntsmen-in-training with powers and personalities as varied as the Grimm they were destined to fight, was immersed in their afternoon drills. The air buzzed with sweat, determination, and a spark of tension, especially between the two brothers at the center of the mats: Ragna the Bloodedge and Jin Kisaragi.

Ragna, a towering, muscular young man, bore the scars of his past. His fair skin contrasted with his pitch-black right arm, which pulsed with dark energy—a grim reminder of the event that cost him his original limb and left him with heterochromatic eyes, green on the left and red on the right. Spiky white hair caught the light as he adjusted his stance, a green studded earring glinting in his left ear. A black, half-sun-shaped tattoo with the inscription “-No.5-” marked his chest, a silent testament to his history. He wore a tattered red coat over black pants, his scuffed boots planted firmly, his expression a mix of frustration and focus.

Opposite him stood Jin Kisaragi, his demeanor a stark contrast to Ragna’s raw intensity. Slightly shorter but equally imposing, Jin’s fair skin was framed by the blue uniform of the NOL infantry division. His sleeveless blue coat, with red lining and gold trimmings, fluttered as he moved, paired with a sleeveless white tunic secured by three black belts over a form-fitting black bodysuit. Thick white gloves folded just below his elbows, and long blue strips of cloth, attached by silver buttons near his shoulders, trailed to his knees, ending in black triangles with gold stripes. His standard blue NOL infantry boots, adorned with gold trimmings and silver metal toes, clicked against the mat as he shifted his weight. His green left eye was cold and calculating, his red right eye mirroring Ragna’s but devoid of warmth.

“You’re sloppy,” Jin said calmly, his voice smooth and detached, as if critiquing a minor flaw in a report rather than his brother’s fighting form. He adjusted his grip on his sword, Mukakuji, its blade gleaming with cold blue light.

“Screw you! It’s you who’s messing up!” Ragna roared, his temper flaring as he lunged forward, his black arm crackling with dark energy. His sword, the Blood-Scythe, swung in a wide arc, the air hissing with its power. The brothers clashed, their blades sparking as Ragna’s raw strength met Jin’s precise technique, the mats shuddering under their force.

Nearby, Noel Vermillion and Izayoi paused their own training to observe, assessing the brothers’ spar. Noel, petite with bright green eyes and blonde hair falling to her upper back, stood in her crisp NOL uniform. Her blue beret, tied with a metal plate, held her hair in place, and her sleeveless blouse—white in front and back with blue sides—bared her shoulders and upper back in a V-shape, two diamond-shaped silver pieces hanging at the hem. A detached white collar with a red tie, blue detached sleeves with yellow trim, and white gloves with gold backs completed her look, along with black thigh-high socks and blue heeled boots with gold trimmings and silver tips. She clutched Bolverk, her twin handguns, nervously, her expression a mix of concern and determination.

Izayoi stood tall and composed, a fair-skinned woman of average height with red eyes and long red hair pulled into a high ponytail, secured with a gold accessory. Her dark purple skin-tight bodysuit clung to her form, overlaid with a short white dress-like garment and detached white sleeves. Golden armor protected her neck, chest, lower arms, and hips, while white thigh-high boots with gold armor at the feet completed her look. Her sharp eyes tracked the brothers’ movements, her hands resting on the hilt of her sword, Muchorin, which pulsed with a fiery aura.

“Those two are at it again,” Noel murmured, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “They’re supposed to be training together, not tearing each other apart.”

Izayoi’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “It’s their way, Noel. Ragna’s rage fuels him, but Jin’s precision keeps him in check. They’re opposites, but they balance Team RINK.” Her voice was calm yet authoritative, her red eyes fixed on the sparring match.

“Really?” Noel queried, skepticism in her tone. “You might be too optimistic about this.”

On the mats, Ragna gritted his teeth, his black arm glowing darker as he pushed forward. “You think you’re so perfect, Jin? Keep talking, and I’ll show you sloppy!” He swung again, but Jin sidestepped with eerie grace, his sword flashing as he countered with a precise thrust.

“Emotion clouds your judgment, brother,” Jin replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You rely too much on brute force. Watch your footing—or you’ll fall.”

Noel facepalmed. “Great…”

The tension snapped as Ragna roared, charging with renewed fury. But before the blow could land, Noel stepped forward, raising her hand. “Enough! Both of you!” Her voice, usually soft, carried surprising authority. She fired a warning shot from Bolverk, the bullet embedding itself in the mat between them, kicking up dust. “This isn’t a deathmatch. We’re a team, remember? Beacon expects us to work together, not kill each other.”

Ragna froze, his chest heaving, while Jin lowered his sword, his expression unreadable but his eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s right, Ragna,” he said, his voice softening just a fraction. “We have a duty.”

“And yet you act like—” Ragna snarled.

Izayoi approached, her boots clicking against the mat. “Noel’s correct. But you both need to channel that rivalry into something productive. Ragna, your power is unmatched, but you lack discipline. Jin, your precision is flawless, but you’re too cold. Together, you could be unstoppable.”

Ragna scowled, sheathing his Blood-Scythe with a huff. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play nice, Ice Prince.”

Jin’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Bloodedge.”

Ragna was about to flip him off, only for Noel to place her hand on his shoulder.

Noel sighed in relief, holstering Bolverk. “Good. Now, let’s switch partners. Izayoi, you spar with Jin. Ragna, you’re with me. We need to practice coordination for the next Grimm simulation.”

Izayoi nodded, drawing Muchorin with a flourish, its blade igniting with red energy. “A wise choice, Noel. Jin, let’s see if your precision can match my speed.”

After their heated clash, Ragna the Bloodedge and Jin Kisaragi were split up to train with new partners, a decision Noel Vermillion had pushed to curb the brothers’ rivalry. Now, Ragna faced Noel on the mats, his muscular frame towering over her petite one, his spiky white hair and heterochromatic eyes—green on the left, red on the right—locked onto her with a mix of focus and mild exasperation. His pitch-black right arm, a pulsing remnant of a dark past, flexed as he adjusted his stance, the half-sun tattoo with “-No.5-” on his chest partially visible beneath his tattered red coat.

Noel, her blonde hair swaying slightly under her blue NOL beret, stood ready despite the odds. Her NOL uniform—sleeveless white blouse with blue sides, detached sleeves with yellow trim, and blue heeled boots with gold trimmings—was crisp, but she’d set aside her twin handguns, Bolverk, for this round, as per the training rules. Her green eyes sparkled with determination, though a flicker of nervousness crossed her face as she faced Ragna unarmed. Without her weapons, she relied on speed and technique, but against Ragna’s brute strength, it was a daunting challenge.

“Alright, Noel, let’s see what you’ve got,” Ragna grunted, cracking his knuckles, his voice rough but not unkind. “No guns, no excuses. Hit me with all you’ve got.”

Noel nodded, swallowing her hesitation. “Don’t hold back, Ragna. I’m not fragile.” She darted forward, her boots light on the mats, aiming a swift jab at his side, her movements precise but lacking the power to stagger him.

For Ragna, the fight was almost too easy. Noel’s punches connected, striking his ribs and shoulders with surprising speed, but he absorbed each blow with barely a flinch, his black arm taking the impact like a shield. He moved deliberately, letting her land hits to gauge her form, his green eye glinting with approval even as his red eye remained cold. Without Bolverk’s destructive force, Noel’s attacks were like pinpricks against his battle-hardened frame, but he respected her grit. She wasn’t backing down, and that meant something.

“Nice try, kid,” Ragna said, sidestepping a high kick and grabbing her wrist with his normal hand, careful not to crush it. He twisted gently, pulling her off balance, and tapped her shoulder with his black arm—just enough to send her stumbling back a few steps. “But you’re gonna need more than speed to take me down.”

Noel caught her breath, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face, her cheeks flushed but her resolve unbroken. “I’m not done yet!” She lunged again, this time feinting left before aiming a low sweep at his legs, hoping to catch him off guard.

Ragna smirked, planting his feet firmly and taking the hit without budging. “Cute move, but I’ve seen better.” He reached down, grabbing her by the collar of her blouse and lifting her off the ground with one hand, his strength effortless but controlled. “Time’s up, Noel. You’re out.”

He set her down gently, and Noel staggered slightly, panting but managing a small smile. “Okay… you win this round,” she admitted, adjusting her beret. “But if I had Bolverk, you’d be dodging bullets right now.”

Ragna chuckled, a rare sound that softened his usual scowl. “Sure thing, gunslinger. Keep practicing, and maybe you’ll surprise me one day.” He offered her a hand to steady her, which she took gratefully, her small fingers gripping his calloused ones.

From the sidelines, Jin Kisaragi and Izayoi paused their own sparring to watch, their blades lowered. Jin’s cold gaze softened slightly, a flicker of respect in his eyes as he noted Noel’s tenacity. “She’s improving,” he said quietly, almost to himself, his voice devoid of its usual sharpness.

Izayoi, her red hair swaying in its high ponytail, nodded, her golden armor glinting as she sheathed Muchorin. “Indeed. Noel’s spirit is her strength, and Ragna’s restraint shows he’s learning too. Team RINK grows stronger with each clash.”

Elsewhere…in Vale…
The cobblestone streets of Vale shimmered under the flickering glow of streetlamps, their light casting long, jagged shadows that danced like specters in the evening mist. The city bustled with life—merchants haggling, huntsmen patrolling, and civilians hurrying home—but one figure moved through the crowd with an eerie grace, unnoticed yet unsettling. He was a thin man, his silhouette sharp and predatory, the very archetype of a shady dealer or a devil in disguise. Hazama, as he was known, wore a simple black suit, its crisp lines offset by a white shirt that gleamed faintly beneath. Short brown gloves hugged his hands, and brown steel-toed shoes clicked rhythmically against the pavement. Black trousers, secured by two brown belts, swayed slightly with his stride, and a black fedora sat tilted on his head, completing the visage of a man who thrived in the dark corners of the world.

His most striking feature, however, was his face—or rather, the mask it presented. Bright green hair, slicked back beneath the fedora, framed a countenance that never faltered: a wide, ever-present smile, lips curled in a way that promised secrets and malice. His eyes remained closed, as if he saw the world not with sight but with some deeper, demonic intuition. To the unaware, he might have been a quirky eccentric, but those who lingered too long felt a chill, as if his smile hid a void eager to swallow them whole.

“Hmmm, everything seems to be going quite well,” Hazama mused, his voice a smooth, almost musical drawl that carried a hint of mockery. He glanced at the scroll in his hand, its screen glowing with encrypted data—coordinates, energy signatures, and cryptic symbols only he could decipher. He was tracking his Murakumo Units, those elusive weapons of chaos, and the scroll’s readings were promising. “It seems these little treasures are located quite near,” he added, his smile widening, though his closed eyes betrayed nothing of his true thoughts.

Hazama’s mission was as secretive as it was sinister. The Murakumo Units—artifacts of immense power, tied to his own dark designs—were scattered, their locations obscured by time and interference. Yet, his relentless pursuit had borne fruit: three units had been pinpointed, their signatures pulsing like heartbeats in his network. He wasn’t ready to act—not yet. Patience was his ally, and Hazama was nothing if not meticulous. Striking too soon could alert his enemies, whether they were the huntsmen of Beacon Academy or other, less predictable threats lurking in Vale’s underbelly.

“Two in Vale… one in Bailey,” he murmured, his smirk sharpening as he tapped the scroll, zooming in on the data. “Intriguing.” His voice dripped with amusement, as if the universe itself were a game he was playing—and winning. Vale, with its bustling streets and hidden secrets, was the perfect stage for his machinations. Bailey, a neighboring sector with its own mysteries, added a delightful twist. He tilted his head, the fedora casting a shadow over his face, and chuckled softly. “Oh, this will be fun.”

As he slipped the scroll into his pocket, Hazama’s stride slowed, his senses attuned to the city’s pulse. He passed a dimly lit alley where a group of rough-looking men exchanged hushed words, their eyes darting nervously. He ignored them—small-time crooks were beneath his notice. His focus was sharper, drawn to the faint hum of energy that only he could sense, a whisper of the Murakumo Units calling to him. Two were close, perhaps hidden in Vale’s sprawling districts or even within Beacon Academy itself, where young huntsmen trained under the watchful eyes of Ozpin and his staff. The third, in Bailey, was a wildcard, but Hazama relished the challenge.

He paused at a street corner, leaning casually against a lamppost, his smile unwavering. A pair of Beacon students hurried past, their weapons clinking softly, oblivious to the predator in their midst. Hazama’s closed eyes seemed to follow them, his head tilting slightly, as if he could see their fears, their dreams, their weaknesses. “Such naive little heroes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the city’s din. “If only they knew what’s coming.”

His thoughts drifted to the broader tapestry of his plans. The Galactic Dominion, a distant but looming threat, was stirring, their interest piqued by rumors of a powerful alien presence on Earth—perhaps even connected to the Oni, a species long thought extinct. Hazama cared little for their petty wars, but their chaos could serve his purposes, masking his movements as he hunted the Murakumo Units. And then there was Team RINK, those volatile huntsmen training at Beacon, their raw power and fractured bonds a potential obstacle—or a tool, if manipulated correctly.

For now, though, Hazama played the long game. He pushed off the lamppost, adjusting his fedora with a flick of his wrist, and resumed his walk, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The streets of Vale were his chessboard, and the Murakumo Units were his queens. Two in Vale, one in Bailey—each a step closer to his ultimate goal. Whatever that goal was, only Hazama knew, and his demonic smile promised it would shake the foundations of both worlds.

As he vanished into the mist, his soft chuckle lingered, a haunting echo that seemed to whisper: The game has only just begun.
______________________________________________________________________
At the Random Play Video Store, Sixth Street, New Eridu…

The Random Play video store on Sixth Street hummed with its usual low-key chaos—retro movie posters plastered on the walls, a faint buzz from the Hollow Deep Dive (H.D.D.) System in the back, and the occasional chirp of Eous, the modified Bangboo, waddling between shelves. Belle, one half of the legendary Proxy duo known as Phaethon, leaned back in her chair, her dark blue hair with orange tips catching the neon glow of the store’s lights. Her aqua eyes scanned the screen of her tablet, fingers tapping impatiently. Across the room, her brother Wise was tinkering with the H.D.D. System, his light blue-gray hair falling into his eyes as he adjusted a cable.

“Fairy, any new commissions?” Belle called out, her voice bright but edged with curiosity. The AI’s monotone yet cheerful response echoed from the system. “Negative, Belle. Current commissions are completed. However, I detect an incoming encrypted signal—source unknown but flagged as high priority.”

Wise looked up, frowning. “Encrypted? That’s not our usual clientele. Patch it through, but keep the firewall tight.”

Belle nodded, her fingers dancing over the tablet to accept the signal. The screen flickered, and a familiar face appeared—Phil Altiere, manager of the Bailey Hinobi Store and a veteran Glitch Tech. His grizzled features were tense, his eyes darting as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Phaethon, you there? This is Phil. We’ve got a situation.”

Belle leaned forward, her playful demeanor sharpening. “Phil? Long time no see! What’s up? Glitch outbreak in Bailey?”

Phil shook his head, his voice low. “Not just glitches. Something bigger. Our sensors picked up anomalies—energy signatures that don’t match any known glitch patterns. They’re spiking in Hollows around New Eridu and… get this, Vale too. I think they’re linked to those Grimm creatures you’ve got crawling around Remnant.”

Wise stepped over, his expression skeptical but intrigued. “Grimm? In Hollows? That’s a stretch, Phil. Hollows are Ether-based—disordered dimensions, Ethereals, the works. Grimm are… well, physical manifestations of negativity, right? How do they connect?”

Phil rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Our techs ran diagnostics. The signatures are hybrid: Ether corruption mixed with something darker, like the Grimm’s aura. It’s like someone’s fusing the two. Hinobi’s on edge, and I’m not waiting for the corporate to greenlight a response. We need allies, and you two are the best Proxies I know.”

Belle grinned, but her eyes were serious. “Flattered, Phil. So, you’re saying Hinobi wants to team up? Glitch Techs, Proxies, and… what, Beacon Academy huntsmen? That’s a wild crossover.”

“Wild, but necessary,” Phil replied. “I’ve already reached out to Joan in Dabney—she’s in, though she’s griping about ‘extra paperwork.’ Nameless and his crew are prepping their gear. But we need your H.D.D. System to navigate the Hollows and confirm the link. If Grimm or Glitches are spawning in there, or worse, merging with Ethereals, we’re looking at a multidimensional mess.”

Wise crossed his arms, his mind racing. “If the Grimm are tied to Hollows, it could explain the uptick in Ether spikes we’ve seen. Fairy, pull up the latest Hollow data—any anomalies near Vale coordinates?”

Fairy’s voice chimed in, “Analyzing… Confirmed. Unusual Ether signatures detected in Hollows intersecting Vale’s dimensional grid. Patterns suggest external influence—possible negative energy consistent with Grimm behavior. Recommend immediate investigation.”

Belle clapped her hands, her enthusiasm barely masking her concern. “Okay, team-up time! Phil, we’re in. But we’ll need more muscle. The Cunning Hares—Nicole, Anby, Billy, Nekomata—are our go-to for Hollow raids. They’re scrappy, but they get results. And if Vale’s involved, we should loop in Beacon. I’ve heard of a Team RINK training there—Ragna, Jin, Noel, Izayoi. They sound like they can handle Grimm.”

Phil nodded, a rare smile breaking through. “Good call. I’ll coordinate with Joan to get Nameless’ squad—Simi’s itching for action, and Wes and Ray can hack anything that moves. If you can get Beacon’s huntsmen, we’ll have a solid front. But there’s one more thing…” He hesitated, his voice dropping. “Our scans picked up a third signature—faint, but it’s not Ether or Grimm. It’s… alien. Like nothing Hinobi’s seen before.”

Wise and Belle exchanged a glance, their Proxy instincts kicking into overdrive. Belle’s mind flashed to rumors of a powerful, hidden species—an Oni, perhaps, tied to whispers of a girl named Mina Ashido who didn’t know her own heritage. Could she be the key? Wise’s thoughts went darker, to figures like Hazama, whose sinister schemes might exploit such chaos.

“Alien, huh? Though it could be possible” Belle said, forcing a grin to hide her unease. “Guess we’re adding ‘intergalactic detective’ to our resume. Send us the data, Phil. We’ll sync Eous and dive into the Hollow nearest Vale. If Grimm and Ethereals are mixing, we’ll find the source.”

Wise activated the H.D.D. System, its screens lighting up with a map of Hollow entrances. “I’ll prep the Cunning Hares. Nicole’s gonna love this—she’ll probably demand a bonus. Fairy, keep scanning for that alien signature. If it’s not friendly, we need to know.”

Phil’s image flickered as he nodded. “Got it. Hinobi’s backing you—Glitch Techs, Dabney crew, the works. I’ll reach out to Beacon’s headmaster, Ozpin, to get Team RINK on board. Let’s move fast, Phaethon. If this goes south, New Eridu and Vale could be ground zero for something catastrophic.”

The screen went dark, and Belle spun in her chair, her eyes blazing with determination. “Wise, you thinking what I’m thinking? This isn’t just a glitch or a Grimm hunt. Someone’s playing puppet master.”

Wise adjusted his glasses, his voice steady but grim. “Yeah. And we’re about to crash their show. Eous, power up. Time to dive.”

Though it seemed they were too eager…

Meanwhile in Vale’s underbelly…
In a Shadowy Hideout, Vale’s Underbelly…

The safehouse nestled in Vale’s grimy underworld was a fortress of ambition disguised as a dump—a cramped, neon-lit den where the air hung heavy with the tang of scorched circuits and cheap liquor. Flickering monitors lined the walls, their screens casting jagged shadows over crates of scavenged tech and mismatched chairs. This was the lair of Sinister Blackheart, a wiry, charismatic schemer whose long black coat and silver-chained accessories screamed “mastermind” more than “menace.” Tonight, his motley crew, the Emissary, gathered around a battered table, their voices a mix of bravado and bickering, as they awaited a call that could elevate their fledgling syndicate—or burn it to ash.

At the table’s head sat Chitose Kizuki, code-named Curious, her presence a stark contrast to the hideout’s squalor. Her long, pale lilac hair spilled over her right shoulder, framing her pale blue skin and full lips. Her eyes were a mesmerizing oddity—black sclerae encircling vivid green irises with pitch-black pupils, set off by long eyelashes, subtle wrinkles, and small, arched eyebrows. She wore a navy blue, shoulderless dress with long sleeves, cinched by an X-shaped belt with a circular buckle, and a salmon-colored jacket, unbuttoned, with black fur trim at the collar and hem. Gold earrings gleamed as she tilted her head, and light-colored, laced high boots tapped a restless rhythm. In her hand, a criminal scroll hummed, its encrypted signal connecting her to the underworld’s pulse.

A giggle crackled through the scroll’s comms, sharp and playful, cutting through the room’s tension like a knife. “Oh, it seems you’re angling for a collaboration? Far too intriguing to ignore,” Curious purred, her voice a velvet trap, each word laced with curiosity and cunning. Her smile widened, teasing the unseen recipient on the other end.

Sinister Blackheart leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes glinting with a smirk that promised trouble. “That’s the idea,” he said smoothly, adjusting a silver ring on his finger. “The Emissary’s looking to carve out a proper slice of the underworld. We need contacts—powerful ones. Curious, you’re our ticket to the big leagues.”

The Emissary, Blackheart’s ragtag crew inspired by the Fatal Five but far less apocalyptic, shifted in their seats, their personalities clashing like a poorly rehearsed band. Varos, the Tharok-inspired tech genius, hunched over a glowing tablet, his cybernetic eye whirring as he scanned data. His wiry frame and patchwork armor gave him a jittery, overworked vibe. “Underworld contacts, sure,” he muttered, his voice clipped. “But this better not crash like our last deal. I’m still debugging that botched cloaking rig.”

Convict, the Persuader-based enforcer, twirled a massive, double-headed axe with surprising finesse, his lean, scarred face set in a bored scowl. “Quit whining, Varos,” he drawled, his voice rough but lazy. “If Curious delivers, I’ll chop through anyone who gets in our way. If not… well, I’ll chop anyway.” His grin was more mischievous than murderous, betraying the crew’s less-than-lethal edge.

Kanos, modeled after Mano, cracked his knuckles, his broad shoulders straining against his patched jacket. His hands glowed faintly with a corrosive aura, eager for destruction. “Chopping’s too clean,” he rumbled, his grin wide and reckless. “Give me something to melt—walls, doors, whatever. This meeting sounds like my kind of chaos.”

Xalidanus, the Validus-like brute, loomed in the corner, his stone-like body barely fitting the room. His deep, gravelly voice shook the table as he spoke. “Talk less. Fight more. If this ‘Ember Order’ is strong, we crush them. If weak, we crush faster.” His simplistic logic drew a sigh from Sapphire Sovereign, the Emerald Empress-inspired strategist, who sat polishing a sapphire orb that pulsed with faint energy. Her blue robes shimmered, and her golden eyes flicked between her crewmates with barely concealed disdain.

“Crushing is hardly a plan, Xalidanus,” Sapphire said, her voice cool and precise. “Curious, what’s the catch? You’re not one for charity. If we’re meeting this Ember Order, I want guarantees—profit, not just promises.” Her orb glowed brighter, a hint of the power she wielded with calculated grace.

Curious’ laughter crackled again, light but edged with menace. “Oh, Sapphire, always the skeptic,” she teased, her fingers dancing over the scroll to send coordinates. “No catch, just opportunity. I’m arranging a little summit—neutral ground, Vale’s outskirts. Giran’s handling logistics, the old broker’s nose for profit as sharp as ever. And the Ember Order? Let’s just say Cinder’s crew burns brighter than most, but they’re… temperamental. Perfect for a crew like yours.”

Blackheart’s smirk deepened, his fingers drumming on the table. “Temperamental’s fine. We can handle heat. Curious, what’s Giran saying about the Order? Any specifics?”

“Only that Cinder’s got her claws in deep,” Curious replied, her tone mockingly sweet. “Emerald, Mercury, Neo—they’re loyal, but volatile. Giran’s thrilled to play matchmaker, though he’s charging me extra for the ‘drama risk.’ You’ll get the full brief at the meet. Bring your A-game, Blackheart—the Emissary’s cute, but I don’t print puff pieces.”

Varos groaned, his cybernetic eye sparking as he shoved his tablet aside. “Cute? I’m rewiring half our gear for this, and she calls us cute? This better not be another glitch-fest.”

“Relax, Varos,” Convict said, spinning his axe lazily. “If it’s a bust, we’ll just scare ‘em off. No one messes with my blades—not even Cinder’s goons.”

Kanos leaned forward, his corrosive hands leaving faint scorch marks on the table. “Scare? Nah, I’ll melt their boots to the ground. Let’s make this meeting legendary.”

Xalidanus rumbled, cracking the floor with a heavy step. “Legendary? Crush legendary. All enemies fall.”

Sapphire rolled her eyes, her sapphire orb pulsing softly. “Must you all be so… crude? Blackheart, if we’re aligning with Cinder’s lot, we need leverage—data, resources, something. Curious, what’s Vale’s underworld buzzing about? Any big players we should watch?”

Curious’ giggle turned sharper, almost predatory. “Oh, Sapphire, you’re sharp. Buzz? Plenty. Whispers of huntsmen at Beacon—Team RINK, they call ‘em—training hard but distracted. Rumors of alien signals, maybe tied to that Oni girl no one’s pinned down yet. And then there’s Hazama, slinking around with his own agenda. Vale’s a powder keg, darling, and I’m just handing you a match.”

Blackheart’s eyes gleamed, catching every word. “Matches, huh? We’ll light a fire, Curious. Set the meet—Giran, Cinder, whoever. The Emissary’s ready.”

The scroll blinked off, plunging the hideout into a tense silence broken only by Convict’s axe twirling and Kanos’ restless pacing. Varos muttered about recalibrating drones, Xalidanus shifted like a restless mountain, and Sapphire’s orb glowed brighter, her mind already scheming. Blackheart stared at the blank scroll, his smirk unshaken. Curious was a puzzle, the Ember Order a wildfire, and Giran a snake—but together, they could tip Vale’s scales.
______________________________________________________________________
At Beacon Academy, Weapons Forge…

The weapons forge at Beacon Academy was a symphony of sparks and steel, its cavernous interior alive with the clang of hammers and the hiss of cooling metal. Shelves lined with Dust crystals glowed faintly, casting prismatic light across workbenches cluttered with blueprints and half-finished blades. Team YKRY—Yu Narukami, Yukari Takeba, Kanji Tatsumi, and Rise Kujikawa—stood amidst the chaos, their presence a blend of quiet focus and vibrant energy. As huntsmen-in-training, they’d earned their place at Beacon, their shadow manipulation abilities, drawn from the mysterious power of their Personas, making them a formidable yet unconventional team.

Yu Narukami, the team’s leader, stood at the center of the forge, his silver-gray hair catching the firelight as he examined a sleek katana resting on a workbench. His calm, piercing eyes scanned every detail—its Dust-infused edge, the subtle etchings along the blade, and the faint hum of energy resonating from its core. Clad in a tailored black huntsman jacket with blue accents, his posture was relaxed but commanding, a silent strength that anchored his team. Known for his unshakeable resolve and knack for uniting others, Yu was the heart of Team YKRY, and today, he was tasked with inspecting their newly crafted weapons, designed to channel both Dust and their unique shadow powers.

“Looks like the forge master outdid himself,” Yu said, his voice steady and warm as he lifted the katana, testing its balance with a slow, deliberate swing. “This one’s for me—Izanagi’s power should sync perfectly with the Lightning Dust in the blade. What do you guys think?”

Yukari Takeba, leaning against a nearby workbench, grinned, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. Her long auburn hair was tied back, revealing a practical yet stylish huntsman outfit—pink and white armor plating over a black bodysuit, with a quiver of Dust-tipped arrows slung across her back. As the team’s sharpshooter, Yukari’s Persona, Isis, gave her control over wind and healing shadows, but her real strength was her quick wit and loyalty. “Not bad, Leader,” she teased, picking up a sleek compound bow with glowing cyan runes. “But check this out—my new bow’s got Wind Dust and a shadow conduit. Isis is gonna love it. I’ll be sniping Grimm from a mile away!”

Kanji Tatsumi, towering nearby with his muscular frame, snorted, his bleached blond hair and scarred knuckles giving him a punkish edge. His black leather huntsman coat, studded with silver, hung open over a gray tank top, and his heavy boots scuffed the floor as he hefted a massive, Dust-forged hammer-axe hybrid. Kanji’s Persona, Take-Mikazuchi, wielded lightning and raw strength, and his shadow manipulation made him a frontline brawler. “Tch, arrows? Too fancy,” he grumbled, though his eyes gleamed with excitement. “This baby’s got Thunder Dust and a shadow core—gonna smash Grimm like they’re made of glass. Ain’t that right, Yu?”

Rise Kujikawa, perched on a crate with her legs crossed, giggled, her orange hair bouncing as she twirled a pair of high-tech chakrams in her hands. Her huntsman outfit was a vibrant mix of red and white, with holographic sensors embedded in her gloves to amplify her Persona, Himiko’s, scanning and support abilities. Rise’s shadow manipulation let her analyze enemies and boost her team’s strength, making her the team’s tactical core. “Kanji, you’re gonna scare the Grimm before you hit ‘em,” she said, her voice playful but sharp. “These chakrams are where it’s at—Fire Dust for flair and shadow links to sync with Himiko. I’ll be running circles around those monsters while you’re still swinging!”

Yu chuckled, setting the katana down and moving to inspect Yukari’s bow. “Rise, don’t underestimate Kanji’s swing—it’s saved us more than once. Yukari, this bow’s got a good draw weight. Try channeling Isis’ wind through it; you might get some extra range.”

Yukari nodded, stringing the bow and aiming at a practice target across the forge. “Way ahead of you,” she said, her tone focused. She closed her eyes, summoning a faint shimmer of shadow energy—Isis’ influence—and released an arrow. It streaked forward, propelled by a gust of wind, and embedded itself in the target’s bullseye, the cyan runes glowing brighter. “Oh yeah, this is my new best friend.”

Kanji, not to be outdone, hefted his hammer-axe and stomped to a reinforced testing dummy. “Alright, let’s see what this thing can do!” He roared, his shadow energy flaring as Take-Mikazuchi’s lightning crackled around him. The hammer-axe slammed down, unleashing a burst of Thunder Dust that shattered the dummy into charred fragments, the forge shaking slightly from the impact. Kanji grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

Rise clapped, hopping off her crate to join Yu, her chakrams spinning lazily in her hands. “Show-off,” she teased, then turned to Yu with a mock pout. “Leader, my turn! Watch this!” She tossed a chakram, its Fire Dust igniting as it sliced through the air, guided by Himiko’s shadow precision. It carved a perfect arc around a stack of crates before returning to her hand, leaving a trail of faint embers. “Told ya—style and substance.”

Yu’s lips twitched into a rare smile, his calm demeanor unshaken by the chaos. “Impressive, all of you. These weapons aren’t just tools—they’re extensions of our Personas, our shadows. If we’re going to face Grimm, or whatever else Vale’s hiding, we need to master them.” His voice grew serious, his eyes scanning the team. “I heard whispers in the dorms—trouble’s brewing. I mean I heard rumors of a Bridge of Shadows…yeah it sounds strange.”

Yukari lowered her bow, her grin fading. “Like a cult of sort?”

Kanji cracked his knuckles, his hammer-axe resting on his shoulder. “Don’t care what it is—Grimm, aliens, whatever. I’ll smash it. Right, Rise?”

Rise’s expression turned thoughtful, her fingers brushing her chakrams’ sensors. “Maybe. Himiko’s picking up weird vibes lately—energy spikes near Vale’s outskirts. If Yu’s right, we might need these weapons sooner than we think.”

Yu nodded, picking up his katana again, its blade humming faintly as he channeled a spark of Izanagi’s power through it. “Then we train harder. Team YKRY doesn’t back down—not from Grimm, not from shadows, not from anything. Let’s take these to the mats tomorrow and see how they hold up.”

The narrow alley behind From Dust Till Dawn was a shadowed scar on Vale’s otherwise gleaming facade, its concrete walls slick with dampness and graffiti. A flickering streetlamp cast a weak, yellow glow, battling the neon hum of a nearby bar’s sign. Crates and discarded machinery littered the ground, and the distant whine of airships patrolling the city mingled with the occasional clink of bottles rolling in the breeze. It was the kind of place where deals were struck in whispers and trust was a currency no one carried.

Roman Torchwick leaned casually against a crate, his white suit stark against the grime, the red lining catching the light like a taunt. His bowler hat sat at a rakish angle, and he twirled his cane, Melodic Cudgel, with the ease of a man who knew he was the sharpest thing in the room. A cigar dangled from his lips, its ember glowing as he took a slow drag, his dark-green eyes scanning the darkness with a predator’s patience. He was waiting, and he hated waiting, but he knew the prize would be worth it.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the alley, and Roman’s grin widened. Yama emerged from the shadows, a mountain of a man in a dark-blue tracksuit with a bold "山" symbol emblazoned on the back. His bulk filled the narrow space, his henchmen trailing behind like nervous shadows. The big man’s face was a mask of suspicion, his small eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His boots crunched on gravel, and the air seemed to thicken with his presence.

“Well, well,” Roman drawled, tipping his hat with a flourish, “if it isn’t the heavyweight champion of San Fransokyo’s bot fights! Yama, right? I’ve heard you’ve got a way of smashing things to bits—and making a profit doing it. Impressive.”

Yama grunted, his arms crossing over his chest, the fabric of his tracksuit straining. He eyed Roman like a wolf sizing up a fox—wary, but intrigued. “Who’re you?” he growled, his voice low and gravelly. “Some slick-talking thief from this dump? And why drag me all the way to Vale? I don’t like surprises, and I don’t like being out of my territory.”

Roman chuckled, the sound smooth and dangerous, as he flicked ash from his cigar. “Fair enough, big guy. Name’s Roman Torchwick—biggest name in Vale’s criminal scene, or at least I will be soon. As for why you’re here? Opportunity, my friend. I’ve got a job, and you’ve got the muscle and toys to make it happen. Simple as that.”

Yama’s eyes narrowed further, his suspicion hardening into a scowl. “Jobs? I don’t work for free, and I don’t trust pretty boys in fancy hats. Last time I got involved with out-of-towners, I nearly ended up under a train. What’s the catch?”

The corner of Roman’s mouth twitched upward, his grin widening as he twirled his cane with a flourish. “No catch, just profit. See, I’ve got plans—big plans. Dust heists, power grabs, the whole nine yards. But I could use someone with your… unique skill set. You’ve built those fighting bots, stolen tech, and crushed anyone dumb enough to cross you. That’s the kind of talent I can use.”

Yama shifted his weight, his massive frame casting a shadow over Roman. “My bots? My business? You think you can just snap your fingers and I’ll jump? I don’t even know what you’re planning, and I don’t play nice with people who cheat me. That kid Hiro and his robot already burned me once. I’m not in the mood for more trouble.”

Roman waved a gloved hand dismissively, the motion almost theatrical. “Relax, Yama. No tricks, no cheats—at least, not from me. I’m offering you a slice of the pie. Vale’s crawling with Dust, security, and opportunities for a guy like you. Help me pull off a few jobs—steal some shipments, break a few heads—and you walk away with cash, tech, and a reputation that’ll echo back to San Fransokyo. What do you say?”

For a long moment, Yama said nothing, his gaze locked on Roman as if trying to peel back the layers of charm to find the truth beneath. Finally, he rubbed his chin, the motion slow and deliberate. “Cash and tech, huh? And what’s the first move? I don’t sign up without knowing the risks. If this goes south, I’m not taking the fall alone.”

Roman’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he tapped his cane on the ground, the metallic clink echoing in the alley. “Smart man. First job’s easy—there’s a Dust shipment coming into the Vale docks tomorrow night. Atlas security’s tight, but I’ve got the intel, and you’ve got the muscle to smash through any resistance. We grab the goods, split the profit, and you decide if you want in for more. No strings, no bosses—just me and you, making a mess and making bank.”

A slow, predatory grin spread across Yama’s face, and he cracked his knuckles, the sound like gunfire in the stillness. “Heh. Smashing things, stealing stuff—that’s my kind of night. But if you double-cross me, Torchwick, I’ll crush you and your fancy cane into scrap. You got a deal… for now.”

Roman clapped his hands, the sound sharp and triumphant, his cigar dangling precariously as he beamed. “Perfect! I knew you’d see the light. Stick with me, and you’ll be trading those alley fights for real power. Welcome to Vale, big guy. Let’s make some noise.”

He extended a hand, gloved and confident, and after a moment’s hesitation, Yama gripped it firmly. The shake was brief but crushing, and Roman winced slightly, though his grin never faltered. Tipping his hat once more, he watched as Yama and his henchmen retreated into the shadows, the big man’s heavy footsteps fading into the night.
______________________________________________________________________
Evernight Castle…

Evernight Castle loomed over the Dragon Continent like a sentinel, its spires piercing the ash-gray sky above the other landforms of Remnant—or whatever fractured world lay beneath. The castle itself was a relic, more symbol than stronghold, but its true heart pulsed deep within: a sprawling laboratory base that buzzed with the hum of advanced machinery and the clatter of scientific ambition. The structure was a marvel of steampunk engineering, its brass gears and copper conduits glinting under the glow of arcane lanterns, its walls lined with vats of bubbling substances and holographic displays mapping the world’s every contour. The air was thick with the scent of oil, ozone, and the faint, electric tang of Ether energy.

Inside, a legion of scientists scurried about busily, their white coats a stark contrast to the dark, metallic surroundings. Some hunched over tables, analyzing vials of Trigger, Dust, and Ether energy, their faces illuminated by the eerie glow of experimental compounds. Others pored over massive screens, tracing the scope of the Dragon Continent and beyond, sketching out ley lines, dimensional rifts, and the shifting borders of realms unknown. The lab was a hive of intellect and ambition, but at its core stood two figures whose presence commanded silence and fear: Arthur Watts and Maw.

Watts, a tall and slim middle-aged man, cut an imposing figure despite his disgraced past. His short grayish hair was neatly combed, his mustache a sharp line above thin lips that often curled into a sneer. Green eyes, sharp as shards of emerald, flickered with a mix of calculation and disdain as he surveyed the lab. He wore a gray overcoat with yellow linings, a yellow dress shirt, and a black necktie, his outfit as meticulous as his mind. His cordovan shoes clicked against the metal floor, matching the yellow-buttoned undercoat and fingerless gloves that hinted at his readiness for both intellect and combat. Once a brilliant Atlesian scientist, now a shadow driven by revenge against General Ironwood and Atlas, Watts had faked his own death in the infamous Paladin Incident, aligning himself with Salem and her inner circle. But his goals were his own, a labyrinth of ambition and spite.

Beside him stood Maw, a shrouded enigma in a flowing blue cloak that concealed his dark features. Yellow gloves peeked from the sleeves, their metallic sheen catching the light, and his voice, when he spoke, carried an otherworldly resonance, as if it echoed from some distant dimension. His goals were vague even to Watts, but his allegiance to a higher power—possibly above even Salem—was clear.

“Well, things are going well,” mused Arthur Watts, his voice dripping with sardonic satisfaction as he adjusted a holographic display showing the lab’s progress. The screen flickered, revealing charts of energy signatures from Trigger, Dust, and Ether, their intersections forming a chaotic web of potential.

“Indeed, my master’s vessel is being made to his desires,” commented Maw, his gaze drifting toward a shadowed corner of the lab where three floating glass capsules hovered, their occupants suspended in a luminescent stasis. Inside, three figures from other dimensions shimmered: two blond youngsters and a short white-haired girl, her messy locks often tied into two large braids. Normally, her eyes are a bright sea blue, a stark contrast to the quiet, yet deadly, golden eyes of the sleeping Herrscher within from a different universe. Also present was a young woman with long, dark purple hair and indigo eyes. In her transformed state, her eyes gain hot pink pupils, dark red horns fade to bright red on her head, and her hair becomes much longer, parting in the middle into two sections. Her form crackled with residual Electro energy. Their worlds—shattered realities—were now subjects of Watts’ and Maw’s dimensional exploration, their secrets ripe for exploitation.

“Shame we weren’t able to attend Merlot’s meeting,” sighed Watts, his fingers tapping impatiently on a control panel. The mention of Dr. Merlot, another scientist dabbling in cross-dimensional experiments along with his usual Grimm experiments, carried a hint of regret but also a strategic calculation. “But it’s fine. Both of us can catch up. Besides, the dimensional exploration we’re doing is giving us greater… leverage.”

Maw nodded, his cloak rustling as he approached the capsules. “The fabric between worlds is thinning. Teyvat’s Archons, the Herrschers—their power could reshape Remnant or destroy it. My master sees potential in their energies and in the beings we’ve captured.”

Watts raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Potential, yes. But control is the key. These… visitors aren’t exactly cooperative.” He gestured toward the capsules, where the duo’s golden hair floated in the stasis fluid, the girl’s tiny form twitching as if dreaming. The others, their Honkai-infused auras pulsing faintly, were equally formidable, their powers a mix of divine and destructive force.

At that moment, a group of scientists approached, their faces pale but determined. Leading them was Doctor Double X, a wiry man with crackling energy arcing between his fingers, his eyes hidden behind dark goggles. An expy of a mad scientist archetype, he specialized in harnessing electrical and dimensional energies, his presence a chaotic counterpoint to Watts’ order.

“Sir,” Double X began, his voice jittery with excitement, “we’ve mapped the dimensional signatures of Teyvat and Honkai. The Archons—Venti, Zhongli, Raiden Shogun—they’re tied to elemental forces we can replicate. And the Herrschers? Their power could destabilize entire continents if we harness it correctly.”

Watts nodded, but his expression remained skeptical. “And the risks? You’re not suggesting we unleash a Herrscher on Remnant without safeguards?”

Before Double X could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows: Doctor V Zero, a cold, calculating woman in a sleek black suit, her face partially obscured by a visor that glowed with violet light. A being of strategic genius, she carried an aura of icy precision, her voice cutting like a blade. “Safeguards are irrelevant if we don’t understand their limits. The Traveler’s connection to the Abyss and the Celestial Principles could be our key to unlocking infinite power—or our undoing.”

Maw turned, his yellow gloves glinting as he raised a hand. “My master favors boldness. But caution is not without merit. We have allies who can assist.”

The lab fell silent for a moment, the hum of machinery underscoring the tension. Maw’s gesture seemed to summon a cacophony of voices, each OC stepping forward with their own agenda, their powers crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Doctor Double X, his goggles flashing with electric sparks, broke the silence first. “Boldness is all well and good, but we need precision! If we tap into the Herrscher’s core, we risk a chain reaction. I say we isolate the Electro energy and use it to power a new weapon—something that can cut through dimensional barriers like butter!”

Doctor Lumisense, his body glowing with a soft, hypnotic light, countered, his voice smooth but edged with arrogance. “Isolation won’t suffice. We should manipulate their perceptions first. If we can make them see us as allies, they’ll surrender their secrets willingly. I can bend light and mind alike—let me handle the psychological warfare.”

Fennec, a sly figure with a fox-like grin and razor-sharp claws, slunk forward, his voice a low purr. “Warfare’s messy. Why not steal what we need? I can slip into their dreams, pluck the knowledge right from their subconscious. No risk, no fuss—just pure profit.”

Dr. Batwidth, his bat-like wings folding tightly against his back, let out a high-pitched chuckle. “Dreams are unreliable. Sonar mapping shows their energy signatures are unstable. We need to physically extract the data—cut into their capsules, drain their power directly. I can navigate the chaos blind if you give me the tools.”

Doctor Simon Hurt, his shadowy form exuding a chilling calm, stepped closer, his smile a mask of menace. “Physical extraction is crude. These beings are driven by fear, guilt, hope—emotions we can exploit. Let me dissect their minds. I’ll find the weak points and turn them against each other.”

The trio of Professor Tendril, Lady Tendril, and Professor Tendril 3 exchanged a glance, their vine-like appendages writhing with anticipation. Professor Tendril, the leader, spoke in a raspy whisper. “Biological integration is the answer. We can graft their powers onto our own creations—hybrids of Teyvat and Honkai. Imagine Grimm infused with Archon might!”

Lady Tendril nodded, her voice silky but cold. “And if they resist, we strangle their will with our tendrils. No escape, no mercy.”

Professor Tendril 3, more impulsive, added with a snarl, “Or we just crush them! Why waste time when we can dominate?”

Prossfor Search, a wiry figure with a magnifying glass-like eye, interjected, his voice trembling with obsession. “No, no, no! We must catalog everything—every particle, every rift. Knowledge is power! I’ll map their worlds down to the atom if you let me.”

Dr. Glycos, his body surrounded by a shimmering aura of chemical compounds, sneered. “Cataloging won’t win wars. We need to synthesize their energies into a weaponized form. I can create a toxin that disrupts their powers, leaving them helpless.”

Doctor Tendril, a newer addition with thicker, more aggressive vines, growled, “Helpless or not, they’ll fight back. We need raw force. Let me lead the assault when we breach their worlds.”

Doctor Danger, a reckless figure with a manic grin and explosive devices strapped to his chest, laughed wildly. “Force? I say we blow the capsules open now! Chaos is the ultimate test—let’s see what these ‘gods’ can do when the lab’s on fire!”

Profesor Solar, his body radiating blinding light, raised a hand to calm the chaos. “Enough! Energy control is our strength. I can stabilize their powers, turn their destruction into creation. But we’ll need Professor Zaxx’s calculations to predict the fallout.”

Professor Zaxx, a gaunt figure with a chalk-dusted coat, nodded gravely. “The math is clear: every action risks a cascade. But if we align their energies with our Ether matrix, we could dominate both Teyvat and Honkai without firing a shot.”

Protector, a towering figure in armor crackling with defensive fields, rumbled, “Domination requires defense. I’ll shield us from their counterattacks. Let the others scheme—I’ll ensure we survive.”

Profesor Finn, a sly manipulator with a silver tongue, smirked. “Survival’s secondary. We need alliances. If we can turn the Fatui or the Hexenzirkel against each other, we’ll gain leverage without lifting a finger.”

Profesor Phi, a mathematical savant with a grid-like aura, added, “Leverage requires precision. I can calculate the optimal strike points in their worlds—cities, ley lines, Archon temples. One move, and they’ll crumble.”

Sir Uranium, his body emitting a radioactive glow, laughed darkly. “Crumble? No, they’ll melt. I can weaponize their own elements against them—nuclear fusion from their cores!”

Professor Fix, a tinkerer with mechanical arms, adjusted a wrench with a click. “Fixing their worlds isn’t the goal. We break them, rebuild them our way. I’ll retrofit the capsules for extraction.”

Doctor Cure, a paradoxical figure in a healer’s robe, smiled grimly. “Or we could ‘cure’ them—strip their powers, leave them human. Weak, controllable.”

Professor Speed, a blur of motion, zipped in and out, his voice a rapid-fire torrent. “Control’s slow! We hit fast, hit hard—grab their Gnosis, their cores, their everything before they know what hit them!”

The Fennec the Second, a sharper, more cunning version of Fennec, hissed, “Speed’s good, but stealth is better. I’ll infiltrate their ranks, turn their heroes against each other. Divide and conquer.”

Equalex, a balance-obsessed figure with scales hovering around him, spoke in a measured tone. “Balance is key. We take only what we need, leave the rest intact. Too much chaos, and we lose everything.”

Dr. Void, a shadowy void-walker, whispered from the darkness, “Intact? No. We consume. Their worlds, their powers, their souls—all ours.”

Dr. Vinister, a venomous strategist with a serpentine grin, added, “And if they resist, we poison their hope. Fear is our greatest weapon.”

Dr. Vin, a quieter but equally dangerous figure, nodded. “Fear, yes. But precision. We target their leaders—the Archons, the Herrschers. Isolate, eliminate, dominate.”

The lab erupted into a cacophony of plans and power, each vying for dominance, their voices a symphony of madness and ambition. Watts and Maw watched, their expressions a mix of satisfaction and calculation, as the future of multiple worlds hung in the balance of their schemes.

Watts finally raised a hand, his voice cutting through the noise. “Enough! We’ll test each strategy, but first, we stabilize the capsules. Double X, Lumisense, Fennec—you’re on point. The rest, prepare for extraction. We don’t just exploit these worlds; we conquer them.”

Maw’s cloak billowed as he turned back to the capsules, his voice a resonant promise. “My master will be pleased. Let the game begin.”

______________________________________________________________________
The White Fang base in Vale was a fortress of shadows, nestled in the city’s underbelly where the gleam of airships and Dust-powered lights barely reached. Its walls, reinforced with stolen Atlas steel and scarred with graffiti, vibrated with the low hum of machinery and the whispered schemes of Faunus rebels. The air was thick with the scent of oil, sweat, and the metallic tang of weaponry, a stark contrast to the pristine streets above. Dim lanterns cast flickering shadows, and the distant clatter of training drills echoed through the corridors, signaling the organization’s readiness for war.

Trollex was juggling multiple tasks—three, to be precise. He was tracking three elusive Ink Guardians, searching for any trace of other trolls, and navigating the delicate task of bonding with the White Fang. His massive, wart-covered frame dominated the dimly lit command room, his green ears twitching as he paced, his large tusks glinting under the flickering light. The bearded Frost-troll’s blue skin, studded with sharp, blade-like protrusions, marked him as a relic of a near-extinct lineage. His yellow eyes burned with a mix of cunning and desperation, reflecting his Ixis Naugus-inspired blend of brute strength and sorcerous intellect. “Gosh, what a busy day,” he sighed, wiping sweat from his green ears with a calloused hand. The weight of his mission bore down on him, heavier than the mythical Snowsunder battering ram he longed to wield. “Chasing those Ink Guardians, hunting for ghosts of my kind, and now playing nice with these Faunus… It’s enough to drive a troll mad.”

Perry, a dark-skinned Faunus with floppy, dog-like ears and dark brown hair, leaned against a crate, his Grimm mask resting above his glasses to reveal a scarred, serious face. His sleeveless white shirt, emblazoned with the White Fang’s red emblem, and black pants were crisp, a testament to his disciplined nature despite his sadistic streak. His brown eyes glinted with cold calculation, a man driven by a burning desire to subjugate or eradicate humanity. “Well, at least you’ve got allies here,” he said, his voice low and measured, laced with a hint of disdain as he tested the troll’s resolve. “The White Fang has resources, connections. Maybe we can help you find what you’re looking for—if it serves our cause.”

Trollex snorted, his jaw opening wide to reveal jagged teeth and a perpetual underbite, his large nose flaring with irritation. “Suppose so,” he growled, his deep voice reverberating through the room like a distant storm. “But those wretched RGBs made a fool of me, slipping through my fingers like sand. And the trolls? They’re gone, Perry. Extinct, or near enough. Frost-trolls, sand-trolls, giant-trolls—reduced to legends in a world that’s forgotten us.”

Perry adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder, his lips twitching into a faint, predatory smirk—a rare glimpse of the sadism that surfaced when he imagined humanity’s downfall. “Forgotten? You’re standing right here, aren’t you? And Trundle’s still out there, stirring up the Freljord. Maybe there’s more like you, skulking in the shadows of Shurima or Ixtal.”

Trollex’s eyes flashed with a volatile mix of hope and rage, and he slammed a fist onto a nearby steel table, denting it with a clang. “Skulking, maybe. But I’ve scoured the Freljord, felt the bite of its ice, and found nothing but echoes. Trundle’s Frost-trolls are a shadow of what we were—how many are left? A handful? The sand-trolls of Shurima, the giant-trolls of Valoran—they’re whispers, fairy tales. Even Lissandra’s Frostguard, Ryze, Ornn—they’ve seen trolls, but no one knows if any survive beyond Trundle’s rabble.”

He paced, his heavy boots thumping against the floor, his cloak of patched fur and metal scraps swaying with each step. “I was born of the ice, Perry, descended from Iceborn who served the Three Sisters. We wielded True Ice, crushed lesser beings with our might. But now? We’re fading, and I won’t let that happen. I’ll find them—any of them—before it’s too late.”

Perry nodded slowly, his expression a mask of pragmatism tinged with pity. “And the White Fang? What’s in it for us? We’re fighting our war here in Vale—against humans, against Atlas. Why should we care about your trolls?”

Trollex leaned closer, his tusks catching the light, his breath hot and rank. “Because I bring power, Faunus. My kind—whatever’s left—can smash your enemies like Snowsunder through wood. Picture it: Frost-trolls shattering Atlas walls, sand-trolls burrowing under Vale’s defenses, giant-trolls towering over your Paladins. We’re not just survivors; we’re conquerors. Join me, and I’ll make the White Fang unstoppable.”

A tense silence settled, broken only by the distant clatter of drills. Perry’s eyes narrowed, weighing Trollex’s words against his own ruthless agenda. “Bold claim, troll. But if your kind’s as extinct as you say, what hope do we have? And those Ink Guardians—they’re hunting you, too.”

Trollex’s grin faded, replaced by a scowl. “Let them hunt. I’ll crush them, like I’ll crush anyone who stands in my way. But the trolls… they’re out there, somewhere. I feel it. The Freljord’s drums still beat, Shurima’s sands shift, Valoran’s legends linger. I’ll find them, rally them, prove we’re not myths.”

He turned to a map pinned to the wall, marked with red X’s over the Freljord, Shurima, and Ixtal. “Trundle thinks he’s king, but I’ll show him—and the world—that Trollex is the true heir to the troll legacy. Even if I have to drag their bones from the ice.”

Perry’s smirk returned, colder now, his sadistic edge surfacing as he imagined the chaos Trollex could unleash. “You’re either a genius or a madman, Trollex. I’ll talk to the commanders. If you can deliver even a fraction of what you promise, the White Fang might back you. But don’t expect us to hold your hand.”

Trollex’s eyes gleamed with determination, his massive form a shadow of ancient power in the dim light. The trolls might be nearly extinct, but their spirit burned in him, a fire that refused to die. In the heart of Vale, amidst the schemes of the White Fang and the threat of the Ink Guardians, he would forge a new legacy—or die trying.

Suddenly, the heavy metal door to the command room swung open with a creak, and a figure strode in, his presence as bold as a storm breaking over calm waters. He was a white-skinned, muscular male, crowned with antlers that curved upward like gnarled branches, his crimson eyes glowing with an eerie intensity. This was Coscar, the Unseelie Prince from City on the Other Side, a realm of fantasy violence where magic and blades wove a tapestry of chaos and power. His dark, flowing robes shimmered with ethereal light, and his movements carried a predatory grace that clashed with the base’s industrial grit.

“Well, it looks like you gentlemen need help,” Coscar declared, bowing with a flourish that was both mocking and regal. His voice was smooth, melodic, yet laced with a dangerous edge, as if every word was a spell waiting to ignite. “The name’s Coscar.”

Trollex’s yellow eyes widened, his tusks gleaming as he instinctively stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the newcomer. His cunning mind, honed by years of survival and inspired by the sorcerous guile of Ixis Naugus, sensed the raw power radiating from Coscar. “Who in the frozen wastes are you?” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the steel floor. “This is White Fang territory, horned one. Speak fast, or I’ll smash you flatter than a Grimm’s skull.”

Perry’s hand snapped to his rifle, his glasses glinting as he fixed Coscar with a cold, unyielding stare. His serious demeanor hardened, the sadistic glint in his eyes sharpening at the prospect of a new threat—or opportunity. “He’s right,” Perry said, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. “You’re not Faunus, and you’re not welcome here unless you’ve got something we want. What’s an Unseelie Prince doing slumming it in Vale?”

Coscar straightened, his crimson eyes twinkling with amusement, though a flicker of violence lurked beneath the charm. His antlers caught the dim light, casting jagged shadows that danced across the graffiti-scarred walls. “Gentlemen, please,” he said, his tone light but carrying the weight of ancient courtly intrigue. “I’m not here to invade—merely to offer my services. The Seelie and Unseelie Courts are in disarray, ripe for the taking, and I intend to claim them both. But such ambitions require allies, and I see potential in you two: Trollex, a king without a kingdom, and Perry, a warrior whose hatred for humanity burns brighter than any Dust crystal.”

Trollex snorted, his large nose flaring as he crossed his arms, the blade-like protrusions on his skin glinting menacingly. “Allies? I don’t even know what your ‘Courts’ are, antler-boy. I’m after trolls—Frost, sand, giant, any that still draw breath. What’s your magic got to do with my fight?”

Perry’s smirk returned, his sadistic edge surfacing as he leaned forward, his voice dripping with venom. “And I’m after human blood, not fairy tales. If you’re here to waste our time, I’ll drag you to Roman myself—let him have some fun breaking you.”

Coscar’s smile widened, revealing sharp, pointed teeth that gleamed like obsidian. “Oh, I assure you, I’m no waste of time. My world thrives on violence—magic that shatters mountains, blades that dance through flesh, disasters born of spells gone wild. My kin, like Spine, who passes through stone like water, or others who wield arrows with deadly precision, could tip the scales for you both. Trollex, imagine your trolls reborn, infused with Unseelie power, unstoppable against Trundle or any foe. Perry, picture humanity crushed beneath a wave of arcane chaos, your White Fang reigning supreme.”

Trollex’s eyes narrowed, his cunning mind weighing the offer against his desperation. The tales of Coscar’s world—where natural calamities were wrought by magic—stirred memories of True Ice’s devastating might. “You talk a big game, Coscar,” he rumbled, his tusks clacking as he spoke. “But I’ve been burned before. Show me something real—power I can feel in my bones. Then we’ll talk.”

Perry’s grip on his rifle tightened, his serious facade masking a flicker of intrigue at the prospect of new weapons against humanity. “And make it quick,” he snapped. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t like surprises. Prove you’re worth our time, or you’re out.”

Coscar chuckled, a low, resonant sound that seemed to hum with magic. He raised a hand, and the air around his fingers shimmered, coalescing into a swirling orb of shadow and light, crackling with energy. “Proof, you say? Behold.” With a flick of his wrist, the orb shot toward a steel crate in the corner, exploding it into a shower of sparks and twisted metal. The blast’s echo rang through the command room, silencing even the distant drills for a moment.

Trollex’s grin returned, his yellow eyes gleaming with approval as he cracked his knuckles. “Now that’s a start,” he said, his voice thick with reluctant respect. “Maybe you’ve got something worth hearing. But don’t think you’re leading this pack—I’m no one’s lackey, not Trundle’s, not the White Fang’s, and definitely not yours.”

Perry lowered his rifle slightly, his sadistic grin creeping back as he nodded. “Impressive, horned one. If that magic can tear through Atlas soldiers, I might listen. But cross us, and I’ll make sure you regret stepping into Vale.”

Coscar bowed once more, his antlers casting eerie shadows that seemed to writhe with a life of their own. “A partnership, then,” he said, his crimson eyes locking onto theirs. “Trollex, you seek your lost kin. Perry, you crave humanity’s ruin. I desire my thrones. Together, we can reshape this world—or burn it to ash.”

The command room pulsed with tension, the air thick with the clash of wills—troll, Faunus, and Unseelie Prince, each a force of chaos in their own right. Trollex’s gaze lingered on the map, the red X’s over Freljord, Shurima, and Ixtal burning like beacons in his mind. Perry’s fingers twitched near his rifle, his hatred for humanity warring with his pragmatic curiosity. Coscar stood poised, his magic a silent promise of power and peril.

As the silence stretched, a new sound broke through—a faint, rhythmic thudding from deeper in the base, like footsteps too heavy for a Faunus. Trollex’s ears perked up, his yellow eyes narrowing as he turned toward the door. “What’s that?” he growled, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

Perry’s smirk vanished, his serious demeanor returning as he grabbed his rifle. “Trouble,” he muttered, his voice low and urgent. “Stay sharp, both of you.”

Coscar’s crimson eyes glinted with amusement, but his hand hovered near his robes, ready to summon more magic. “Or perhaps opportunity,” he mused, his tone teasing yet dangerous. “Let’s see what Vale has in store for us.”
______________________________________________________________________
The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall, arched windows of Beacon Academy’s dormitory, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor of Team LMPH’s shared room. The space was a chaotic blend of order and disarray—Hyde’s neatly folded uniform hung on a chair, contrasting sharply with the scattered hair ties, combat boots, and energy drink cans that littered Mika’s corner. Linne sat cross-legged on her bed, her yellow hoodie unzipped and her brown hair slightly tousled from a long day of training. Phonon, ever the stoic one, leaned against the wall near the window, her black leggings and grey blazer making her look almost like a shadow in the fading light.

Hyde, the blonde boy and de-facto leader of the team, stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, his green eyes scanning his teammates with a mix of exasperation and determination. Despite his position at the end of their team name—LMPH—he’d somehow become the one they all looked to when things got serious. It wasn’t something he’d asked for, but after weeks at Beacon, fighting Grimm and navigating the strange politics of this new world, he’d grown into the role. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irony every time Linne or Mika ignored his orders only to come crawling back when things went south.

“Alright, team,” Hyde began, his voice firm but carrying a hint of fatigue. “Professor Ozpin just sent word. There’s been a disturbance in Forever Fall—some kind of energy spike that’s not Grimm-related. He thinks it might be connected to the Hollow Night stuff we’ve been dealing with back home. We’re on standby to investigate tomorrow morning.”

Linne looked up from her phone, her brown eyes narrowing slightly. She’d traded her usual black spandex shorts for the Beacon uniform skirt today, but the yellow hoodie remained a constant, a defiant nod to her roots. “Hollow Night energy? Here?” she asked, her voice sharp but curious. “That doesn’t make sense. The Voids shouldn’t be able to cross dimensions like that. Unless…” Her voice trailed off, and she tapped her chin thoughtfully, the loose cravat around her neck shifting as she moved.

“Unless what, Linne?” Hyde pressed, stepping closer. He knew her well enough by now to recognize when she was onto something—but also when she was stalling.

“Unless someone or something is pulling strings,” Linne finished, meeting his gaze. “Back in our world, the Night Blade and the Licht Kreis were always meddling. Maybe there’s a parallel here. Some group at Beacon, or maybe even Ozpin himself, knows more than he’s letting on.”

Phonon, who had been silent until now, pushed off the wall and adjusted the black rimmed lapels of her blazer. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was low and steady when she spoke. “If it’s Voids, we’ll handle it. But if it’s something else—something human or worse—we need to be careful. Beacon’s rules are different. We can’t just slash our way through like we did in the Hollow Night.”

Mika, who had been bouncing on her bed with the boundless energy of a caffeine-fueled hurricane, suddenly stopped mid-jump. Her blonde pigtails, tied with yellow ribbons, swung wildly as she landed on her knees, her large brown eyes wide with excitement. “Ooh! Ooh! Maybe it’s a super cool bad guy! Like, someone with a big evil laugh and a cape! I bet I could punch them right in the face!” She mimed a punch, nearly knocking over a lamp on her nightstand.

Hyde sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mika, this isn’t a game. If it’s Voids, they’re dangerous. And if it’s not, we still don’t know what we’re walking into. You need to take this seriously.”

“But I am taking it seriously!” Mika protested, puffing out her cheeks. “I’m gonna protect everyone, just like you, Hyde! Right, Linne? Right, Phonon?” She turned to her teammates, her voice rising in pitch as she sought validation.

Linne smirked, tossing her phone aside. “She’s got a point, Hyde. Mika’s reckless, but she’s strong. We all are. If there’s a fight coming, we’ll be ready.” She stood up, stretching her arms above her head, the green shirt of her uniform riding up slightly to reveal the black undershirt beneath. “Besides, I’ve been itching for a real challenge since we got here. Beating up Grimm is fun and all, but it’s not the same as facing a Void.”

Phonon nodded in agreement, though her expression remained guarded. “We should prepare tonight. Check our weapons, review the terrain of Forever Fall. If this energy spike is linked to the Hollow Night, it could be unpredictable. We don’t want to be caught off guard.”

Hyde glanced at each of his teammates, feeling the weight of their trust—and their stubbornness. Linne’s strategic mind, Phonon’s calm precision, Mika’s raw power, and his own leadership—they were a mismatched group, but they worked. Somehow, they worked.

“Fine,” he said finally, uncrossing his arms. “We’ll gear up tonight. Linne, you and Phonon map out the area and look for any patterns in the energy spikes. Mika, you… just don’t break anything in the meantime, okay?”

Mika grinned, saluting sloppily. “Aye-aye, Captain Hyde!” She hopped off the bed and dashed toward the door, already chattering about how she was going to “scout” the cafeteria for snacks.

“Wait, Mika!” Hyde called after her, but she was already gone, leaving a trail of laughter in her wake. He shook his head, turning back to Linne and Phonon. “She’s going to be the death of me.”

Linne chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Probably. But she’s also the reason we’ll win. You know that as well as I do.”

Phonon tilted her head, a rare hint of amusement flickering across her face. “Let’s just hope whatever’s out there in Forever Fall is ready for us.”
______________________________________________________________________
The headquarters of Sycorax was a marvel of contradictions, a gleaming fortress of technology and nature woven together in San Fransokyo’s heart. Its glass walls shimmered with digital displays, while grass, trees, and stones sprawled across the interior, their roots curling around sleek biometric scanners embedded in the floor. The air hummed with the faint buzz of robotic assistants gliding silently, delivering trays of artisanal lunches to employees whose nametags—customized with details like name, age, and favorite hobbies—flashed with holographic precision. The GenTech lab, hidden deeper within, pulsed with state-of-the-art equipment, each workstation tailored to its user’s whims, from interns to senior scientists. Double-helix motifs adorned the architecture, from the stylized “X” in the Sycorax logo to the spiraling staircases, a nod to the DNA at the core of their work. Yet beneath this eco-friendly facade, a darker truth festered: Sycorax’s benevolence was a mask for corruption, its innovations built on extortive genetic alterations and hidden agendas.

At the center of this empire, in a spacious office overlooking the city’s neon skyline, sat Di Amara, the genetic duplicate posing as Liv Amara. Tall and slender, with fair skin, pink lips, and hazel eyes, her long blonde hair cascaded over her left shoulder, framing a red short-sleeved shirt, a darker red pencil skirt, a black belt with a gold buckle, and black high heels. To the public, she was the charming, generous biotech genius who’d founded Sycorax at twenty-three, dedicated to improving the environment through bio-therapeutic means. Behind closed doors, Di was ruthless, her friendly smile a veneer for a mind that delighted in implanting chips to transform investors into monstrous pawns, all to find a cure for the real Liv, suspended in the labs below. Her voice, warm yet calculated, broke the silence as she leaned back in her ergonomic chair. “A pleasure to meet you both. It’s a shame the leader of SHIVA couldn’t join us, but I’m delighted you came, Miss Hilda, Miss Gavinda.”

Across from her sat two women, their appearances as striking as their ambitions. Hilda, the thinner of the pair, exuded an air of pompous arrogance. Her pale white skin contrasted sharply with her light blue hair, which framed a black dress accented with white and blue patterns. Her right eye glowed red, the left grey—a heterochromatic stare that matched her vain, manipulative nature. As an Under Night In-Birth In-Birth wielding the EXS of Light and Darkness, Paradox, Hilda commanded blades of shadow and light with reckless abandon, her Masquerade ability corrupting her original powers into a devastating force. She led Amnesia with a blend of affection for her subordinates and a ruthless craving for power, though her intelligence was often questioned. “Such a shame,” she echoed, her voice dripping with mock sincerity, her lips curling into a smirk. “But I’m here, and that’s what matters. Your little biotech empire intrigues me, Amara.”

Beside her, Gavinda lounged with the confidence of a seasoned predator. A young, slim woman with very long blonde hair trailing to her ankles, her heterochromatic eyes—red on the right, grey on the left—mirrored Hilda’s, though her demeanor was colder, more calculating. Her white and black dress, paired with black stockings and white high heels, was elegant yet menacing, fitting her role as a corrupt corporate executive in the drone industry. Gavinda’s technology, powered by harmful Nucleum ore, left environmental devastation in its wake, a stark contrast to Sycorax’s green facade. A sociopath driven to eliminate rivals like Whale Tech, she’d once plotted to destroy an entire island to secure her dominance. “Indeed,” she said, her tone clipped and British-accented, her eyes narrowing as she studied Di. “Your reputation precedes you, but I’m not here for pleasantries. What’s your game, Amara?”

Di’s smile didn’t waver, though her hazel eyes glinted with a hint of menace. “No game, ladies—just opportunity. Sycorax studies the environment to improve it, but our methods… let’s say they’re unconventional. Parasynths, genetic enhancements, bio-therapeutics—these are tools to reshape the world. I believe your expertise could align with ours. Hilda, your command of light and darkness could refine our genetic manipulation. Gavinda, your drones and Nucleum tech could amplify our reach. Together, we could dominate not just San Fransokyo, but beyond.”

Hilda leaned forward, her heterochromatic eyes sparkling with ambition. “Dominate, you say? I like the sound of that. My Paradox can bend reality itself—blades to carve, shields to protect. If your labs can enhance my power, I’m listening. But don’t think I’ll bow to you, Amara. I serve no one.”

Gavinda’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “Enhance? Your parasynths are a gamble, Amara. I’ve seen what happens when experiments go wrong—plants wither, cities choke. My drones are precise, controlled. If we collaborate, I want guarantees: no interference with my tech, and a share of your profits. I don’t play second fiddle.”

Di’s fingers tapped the desk, her smile tightening ever so slightly. “I don’t ask for subservience, only synergy. Our goals align—control, innovation, power. Sycorax’s GenTech lab can tailor solutions for both of you: Hilda, a chamber to amplify your EXS; Gavinda, a fusion of Nucleum and parasynths for drones that rewrite ecosystems. In return, I need your networks—Amnesia’s influence, your drone empire. We’re not just building a company; we’re building a new order.”

The room fell silent, the hum of robotic assistants outside barely audible through the reinforced glass. Hilda’s smirk widened, her fingers tracing the edge of her dress as if conjuring invisible blades. “A new order? You speak my language. But I warn you, Amara—I’m no pawn. Cross me, and I’ll carve your empire to pieces.”

Gavinda’s eyes flicked to Hilda, then back to Di, her expression unreadable. “And I don’t trust altruists. Your ‘cure’ for Liv smells like a lie. If we do this, I want access to your labs—no secrets. One wrong move, and I’ll bury Sycorax under its own greenery.”

Di leaned back, unfazed, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo. “No secrets, no lies—just results. Let’s start small: a joint project. Hilda, lend us your Paradox to stabilize a new parasynth strain. Gavinda, integrate your Nucleum into a prototype drone. Success, and we scale up. Failure… well, we won’t fail.”

Before either could respond, a soft chime echoed from the biometric scanner at the door, followed by a robotic assistant’s voice: “Priority alert: unauthorized energy signature detected in GenTech lab.” The three women exchanged glances, their facades of civility cracking. Di’s smile turned predatory, Hilda’s eyes gleamed with anticipation, and Gavinda’s hand twitched toward a concealed device on her belt.

“Seems we have a guest,” Di said, rising smoothly, her heels clicking on the floor. “Shall we investigate, ladies? Or let our new partnership handle it?”

Hilda stood, light and shadow flickering around her fingers. “A fight already? Perfect. I was getting bored.”

Gavinda followed, her long hair swaying, her voice icy. “If it’s Whale’s spies, they’re dead. Lead on, Amara.”

A rough-looking figure shuffled into the room, his presence as jarring as a glitch in Sycorax’s pristine systems. Professor Misakioku Ashihara was a study in contrasts, blending historical and modern elements in his attire. His layered kimono featured a light beige inner garment reaching his ankles, secured by a wide black obi belt with subtle white stripes, over which a dark brown outer kimono with wide sleeves added formality. A white collared shirt and dark tie, fastened with a golden clasp, hinted at Western influence, while traditional dark geta sandals clicked softly on the floor. One hand rested on his belt, the other clutched a small, dark object—perhaps a fan or a tool. His bushy dark beard and wild, curly hair framed a face that carried an unhinged intensity, his eyes gleaming with a manic curiosity that belied his scholarly persona. The SHIVA Consortium scientist, presumed dead after witnessing Godzilla’s manifestation, had discovered Archetype—a substance tied to quantum manipulation and catastrophic potential. Now, alive and allied with SHIVA’s most villainous minds, he was no mere eccentric but a mad scientist with apocalyptic ambitions.

“Ahhh… greetings,” Ashihara said, his voice carrying a nervous lilt as he flashed a grin that bordered on creepy, his teeth catching the lab’s sterile light. “Sorry I took so long—finishing some things at work.” His words were casual, but the slasher-like edge to his smile hinted at the chaos he’d left behind, perhaps equations scribbled in quantum blood or blueprints for Mechagodzilla’s skeletal frame.

Di recovered first, her smile sliding back into place, though her hazel eyes narrowed slightly. “Professor Ashihara, punctuality isn’t your forte, but your presence is… illuminating,” she said, her tone warm yet laced with a warning. “We were just discussing our mutual interests—biotech, drones, power. I trust SHIVA’s goals align with ours?”

Hilda tilted her head, her heterochromatic gaze sizing him up like prey. “So, you’re the ghost who plays with monsters,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Your Archetype sounds… deliciously chaotic. Can it fuel my Paradox, or are you just here to bore me with theories?” Her fingers twitched, light and shadow flickering briefly, a reminder of her reckless hunger for dominance.

Gavinda’s lips curled into a cold smirk, her long blonde hair swaying as she leaned forward. “Don’t waste my time, old man,” she said, her British accent sharp as a blade. “SHIVA’s exploits are bold, but reckless. If your quantum toys can enhance my drones—say, integrate Archetype with Nucleum—I’m listening. Otherwise, I’ll bury you with Whale.” Her sociopathic edge was palpable, her red eye glinting with the promise of destruction.

Ashihara chuckled, a low, unsettling sound that echoed like a warning. “Oh, ladies, you underestimate me,” he said, his wild hair bouncing as he gestured theatrically, the dark object in his hand glinting—a data drive, perhaps, or something more sinister. “Archetype isn’t just a substance; it’s a key to rewriting reality. Godzilla’s bones taught me that. Di, your parasynths could bind it, create lifeforms that bend time. Hilda, your Paradox could stabilize its chaos, wield it like a god. Gavinda, your drones? Imagine them channeling Archetype’s energy—cities would kneel.”

Di’s fingers tapped her desk, her smile now predatory. “Ambitious, Professor. Sycorax thrives on control, not chaos. If we combine our resources—parasynths, Paradox, Nucleum, Archetype—what guarantees do we have that SHIVA won’t turn on us? Your… reputation precedes you.”

Hilda laughed, a sharp, haughty sound. “Guarantees? I don’t need them. If this Archetype amplifies my blades, I’ll carve my own throne. But if you’re playing us, Ashihara, I’ll make you regret crawling out of your grave.”

Gavinda’s eyes narrowed, her hand brushing her concealed device—a drone remote, perhaps. “And I don’t share power,” she said icily. “SHIVA’s Mechagodzilla scheme screams betrayal. Prove your worth, or I’ll ensure your quantum dreams end in ash.”

Ashihara’s slasher smile widened, unfazed by their threats. He stepped closer, his geta sandals clicking, and placed the dark object on Di’s desk—a crystalline shard pulsing with an eerie red glow, Archetype in its rawest form. “Proof?” he said, his voice dropping to a manic whisper. “This is but a fragment. Feed it to your parasynths, Hilda’s shadows, Gavinda’s drones. Watch it rewrite the rules. But beware—it hungers, just like us.”

The shard’s glow cast jagged shadows across the office, reflecting in Di’s calculating eyes, Hilda’s ambitious stare, and Gavinda’s cold scrutiny. The air grew heavy, the double-helix motifs on the walls seeming to writhe as if alive. Before they could respond, another chime sounded, sharper this time: “Security breach: GenTech lab compromised. Intruders detected.”

Di’s smile vanished, her hand slamming a hidden panel to activate the lab’s defenses. “Intruders?” she hissed, rising. “Big Hero 6, perhaps? Or your SHIVA friends, Professor?”

Hilda’s fingers sparked with light and darkness, her smirk turning feral. “Let them come. I could use a warm-up.”

Gavinda activated her remote, a faint hum signaling drones awakening below. “If it’s Whale, they’re dead. If it’s heroes, even better.”

Ashihara’s eyes gleamed, his beard twitching with excitement. “A test, then,” he said, clutching the shard. “Let’s see if your empire can withstand the storm—or if Archetype claims you first.”
______________________________________________________________________
Bailey’s park was a splash of green amidst the urban sprawl, its sprawling lawns dotted with colorful benches, swaying trees, and the faint hum of kids playing near a pixelated fountain—a quirky nod to Bailey’s tech-savvy culture. The late afternoon sun cast golden streaks across the gravel paths, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers and distant street food. It was the kind of place where you could lose yourself in thought—or, in Ridley’s case, in code.

Ridley Croft—or Craft, depending on who you asked—sat hunched on a bench, her brown hair falling messily over her glasses as she scribbled furiously in a worn notebook. Her fingers, stained with ink and pixel dust, danced across the pages, sketching a glitch monster that looked like a cross between a dragon and a corrupted arcade sprite, its jagged lines pulsing with potential. Her oversized hoodie and ripped jeans were practical, a hacker’s armor against the world, and her eyes narrowed with focus, wary of anyone who might interrupt her work. Ridley was no stranger to solitude; years of bullying for her “weird” love of tech had made her emotionally volatile, quick to see enemies in every shadow. Yet her passion for modding Hinobi glitches—turning rogue code into docile pets—burned brighter than her distrust. “Hmmm…” she muttered, refining the monster’s claws, her voice a low grumble of concentration.

“Oooo… what’s that?” chirped a cheerful voice, bright and loud enough to shatter Ridley’s focus like a dropped console.

Ridley’s head snapped up, her glasses slipping slightly as she narrowed her eyes at the intruder. Standing before her was Phoenica Fleecity XV, or Feenie, a tall girl radiating an almost blinding positivity. Her white skin glowed under the sunlight, her teal eyes sparkling with curiosity, and her long blonde hair flowed like a golden cascade, adorned with two pink bows on either side, each tied with a golden bell that jingled softly. The ends of her hair were secured by blue bows with matching bells, adding to the symphony of chimes with every move. Her pink dress, with long sleeves ending in white cuffs, puffed out into a skirt over a fluffy white underskirt, cinched by a blue belt. A white collar framed her neck, topped with a blue bow, and her long blue socks paired with pink shoes—each with a heart-shaped toe, white sole, and blue bow with a bell—completed her look. Feenie’s appearance screamed wealth and whimsy, a stark contrast to Ridley’s gritty edge. Book-smart but terminally naive, Feenie was obsessed with love and crafting elaborate marriage binders, though her romantic ideals often outstripped reality, leaving her chasing imagined versions of people.

“Errr… who are you?” Ridley asked, her tone sharp as she clutched her notebook tighter, suspicion flaring. Trust didn’t come easy, and this bell-jangling girl looked like trouble—or worse, a distraction.

“The name’s Phoenica!” Feenie declared, her voice loud and cheerful, bells jingling as she clapped her hands. “But you can call me Feenie, ‘cause we’re gonna be friends! That drawing’s super cool—what is it, some kind of magic dragon? Ooh, is it for a love story?” Her eyes widened, already spinning a romantic fantasy, her mind leaping from glitch to grand adventure.

Ridley blinked, caught off-guard by the onslaught of enthusiasm. “It’s… a glitch,” she said slowly, her voice laced with caution. “Code, not magic. I mod stuff—make it do what I want. And we’re not friends. I don’t even know you.” She adjusted her glasses, her oversensitivity prickling at Feenie’s forwardness, half-expecting a jab about her “weird” hobbies.

Feenie tilted her head, bells chiming softly, undeterred by the rebuff. “A glitch? That’s, like, a sparkly computer thing, right? So neat!” she gushed, plopping onto the bench beside Ridley, ignoring the hacker’s scowl. “You’re so talented! I bet you could make a glitch prince, all heroic and dumb—perfect for a marriage binder!” Her hands fluttered, mimicking flipping through an imaginary scrapbook, her lithromantic tendencies bubbling up as she pictured an idealized glitch boyfriend.

Ridley’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the notebook hard enough to crease the pages. “It’s not a toy,” she snapped, her volatile temper flaring. “This is serious tech—Hinobi-level code. Not some… glittery fairy tale for your binder.” The word “binder” came out like an insult, Ridley’s distrust painting Feenie as another bully mocking her passion. She leaned away, ready to bolt, her heart racing with the familiar sting of judgment.

Feenie’s teal eyes widened, her fluffy collar quivering as she gasped. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to upset you!” she said, her voice softening, though still tinged with oblivious cheer. “I think ‘glitch’ sounds super romantic, not bad at all! Like, a sparkly mistake that makes everything exciting! Can I see more? Pretty please?” She clasped her hands, bells jingling, her politeness genuine despite her misunderstanding of “serious tech.”

Ridley hesitated, her anger faltering under Feenie’s earnestness. Most people would’ve mocked her by now, called her a freak for modding glitches, but this girl just… kept smiling. It was disarming, and Ridley hated how it made her feel—vulnerable, like someone might actually care. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, flipping the notebook to show the glitch monster’s design, if only to shut Feenie up. “It’s not romantic. It’s power—control. I rewrite code, make it obey. No princes, no binders.”

Feenie leaned closer, her bells chiming as she studied the sketch, her face lighting up like she’d found a treasure. “Ooh, it’s so fierce! Like a knight protecting a kingdom! You’re, like, a tech wizard, Ridley! Do you ever make glitch pets? I have a sheep I love, but a glitch sheep would be so cute!” Her excitement spiraled, oblivious to Ridley’s growing unease, her mind already crafting a new project—maybe a “glitch binder” next to her marriage ones.

Ridley’s cheeks flushed, torn between irritation and a grudging warmth. No one had ever called her a wizard—not without sarcasm. “Pets… yeah, I’ve done that,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, less defensive. “Docile glitches, modded to stay tame. But it’s not cute—it’s work. Dangerous work.” She glanced at Feenie, expecting a laugh, but found only wide-eyed awe.

“Dangerous? That’s so brave!” Feenie clapped, her bells ringing like a tiny orchestra. “You’re like a magical girl, fighting bad glitches! Oh, we should totally team up! I’m supposed to find magical girls for my family’s mission—defeating the Songstress, super important—and you’d be perfect!” Her naivety was almost painful, but her sincerity cut through Ridley’s walls, stirring a flicker of curiosity.

Ridley snorted, pushing her glasses up. “Magical girl? Yeah, right. I’m a hacker, not a fairy. And I don’t do teams—people turn on you.” Her voice hardened, memories of betrayal flashing through her mind—Miko’s offer, Mitch’s reset threat. But Feenie’s bells kept jingling, her smile unshaken, and Ridley felt a pang of something unfamiliar—hope, maybe.
“Hey, do you want to meet my friends when you’re not busy?” Feenie asked, her voice bright and hopeful, bells jingling as she leaned closer, hands clasped like she was proposing a grand adventure. Her teal eyes shone with the kind of sincerity that made Ridley’s stomach twist—too pure, too risky.

Ridley’s pen froze mid-sketch, her glasses slipping slightly as she turned, narrowing her eyes. Friends? The word felt like a trap, a setup for betrayal, like when Miko’s Glitch Tech offer had strings attached. Her volatile temper prickled, but Feenie’s earnest smile—oblivious to Ridley’s inner storm—made it hard to snap. “Errr… sure, I guess,” she said, her voice gruff and hesitant, shoving her notebook into her backpack as if to shield it from judgment. Trust wasn’t her thing, but saying no to this bell-jangling girl felt like kicking a puppy.

“Yay!” Feenie squealed, clapping her hands so her bells rang like a tiny orchestra, her fluffy skirt bouncing as she hopped in place. “Oh, you’re gonna love them, Ridley! Molly’s super sweet, and Trixie’s all tough and cool—like a bad girl, but not too bad, y’know?” Her voice spiraled into a dreamy ramble, her lithromantic heart already picturing Ridley fitting into her Neo Trio, maybe even as a magical girl for her Songstress mission. “We can all hang out, maybe make glittery glitch binders together!”

Ridley’s smirk twitched, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Glittery… binders?” she muttered, pushing her glasses up. “Yeah, hard pass on that. I don’t do crafts, and I’m not big on… people.” Her tone softened, though, betraying a flicker of curiosity. Feenie’s friends—Molly and Trixie—sounded weird, maybe weird enough to not judge her tech obsession. Or maybe they’d be like everyone else, calling her a freak for modding glitches. Still, the idea of meeting them tugged at her, a glitch in her usual defenses.

Feenie tilted her head, bells chiming softly, undeterred by Ridley’s grumpiness. “Oh, but it’ll be so fun! Molly knows all about sparkly stuff—she runs a toy shop, kinda—and Trixie’s great at pranks, but she’s super loyal! They’re my besties, like, forever!” She paused, her teal eyes widening as a new thought hit. “Ooh, maybe you could show them your glitch pets! They’d think it’s the coolest thing ever, not stupid at all!” Her hands fluttered, mimicking flipping through an imaginary binder, her naivety painting Ridley as a hero in her mental storybook.

Ridley snorted, but the word “coolest” stuck, a rare compliment that didn’t feel like a setup. “They’re not pets,” she corrected, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “They’re mods—code I control. Dangerous if you mess it up.” She glanced at her backpack, where her backup Hinobi console hummed faintly, a reminder of the Drago-Kitty chaos she’d barely contained. Meeting Feenie’s friends meant risking exposure, but the thought of someone—anyone—getting her tech without mocking it was… tempting.

______________________________________________________________________
The air in the abandoned cathedral was thick with the scent of damp stone and burning incense, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the cracked stained-glass windows. The symbol of Humarise—a six-pointed star split into red and brown halves—loomed on a banner draped over the altar, while the faint hum of machinery echoed from the shadows currently making Trigger bombs.

Flect Turn stood at the center of the nave, his luminescent light blue skin glowing faintly under his white cloak, the dark red interior catching the light like blood. His shaved head and goatee were sharp against the dimness, and his golden belt glinted as he adjusted the Arachne exoskeleton strapped to his waist. His reflective Quirk shimmered around him, a constant barrier against the world he despised. He was a prophet, a savior in his own mind, and his cold, calculating eyes scanned the darkness for his unexpected guests.

From the shadows emerged three figures: Zora Salazar, her cowboy hat tilted low over her face, revolver holstered at her hip; Yoomtah Zing, the "Robot Girl," her electric yellow eyes crackling with energy, her white suit pristine despite the dust; and the Hooded Figure, Moot Tarbella, their orange sunglasses glinting as they stepped forward, cloak billowing slightly. Behind them, the silhouette of the Bliss Ocean Leader loomed on a cracked monitor, his ominously bright eyes the only feature visible in the darkness.

Flect’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and unyielding. “You trespass on sacred ground, intruders. State your purpose, or be reflected into oblivion.”

Zora smirked, her Southern drawl dripping with mockery as she adjusted her hat. “Easy there, preacher man. We ain’t here to fight—yet. Name’s Zora, and these are my associates. We’ve got a common enemy, see? Powers that don’t belong, messin’ up the natural order. Thought you might be interested in a partnership.”

Flect’s lips curled into a sneer, but his eyes narrowed with interest. “Humarise requires no allies. Our mission is clear: to cleanse the world of the Quirk disease, to save humanity from its own corruption. What could a band of mundie terrorists offer me?”

The Bliss Ocean Leader’s voice crackled through the monitor, smooth yet chilling. “Ideals, Flect Turn. You believe Quirks are a plague, a singularity that will destroy mankind. We believe epithets—their equivalent in us—are an unfair advantage, a crutch that undermines true skill and effort. Together, we could eradicate both, leaving only the pure, the deserving.”

Yoomtah giggled, sparks dancing around her fingertips, her playful tone at odds with the gravity of the situation. “Think of it, Mr. Reflect! No more superpowered brats running around, no more epithet users stealing the spotlight. Just people, like us, fighting fair and square.”

Flect’s reflective energy flared, a mirror-like sheen rippling across his skin as he stepped closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You speak of fairness, yet you wield powers yourselves. Hypocrisy is a weak foundation for alliance. I saw the destruction your kind caused in Sweet Jazz City—chasing trinkets like the Arsene Amulet while innocents suffered. You are no better than the heroes you claim to despise.”

Zora’s hand twitched toward her revolver, but she held back, her eyes flashing with a mix of irritation and respect. “Careful, shiny. We’re here ‘cause we respect what you’re doin’. But don’t think for a second we’re scared of your mirrors. My epithet could turn that fancy suit of yours to dust before you blink. We’re offerin’ a trade—your bombs, our intel on global power hotspots. Together, we could hit ‘em all at once.”

Moot stepped forward, their voice calm but edged with menace. “And we bring discretion. The world thinks Humarise is finished after your last failure. They don’t even know Bliss Ocean exists. We operate in the shadows, undetected. You need us as much as we need you.”

Flect paused, his mind racing. He hated the idea of compromise, but their offer intrigued him. The Quirk Singularity Doomsday Theory had driven him to the brink, and he knew the heroes were closing in. A global strike, combining Humarise’s Trigger Bombs with Bliss Ocean’s stealth and ruthlessness, could be the key to final victory. Yet, he saw the hypocrisy in their eyes—the same contradiction he carried within himself. They claimed to hate powers, yet used them without hesitation.

“Fine,” Flect said at last, his voice cold but measured. “If you prove your worth, I will consider this… partnership. But betray me, and no amount of time manipulation or electricity will save you from my reflection. Bring me the Arsene Amulet, and we will talk further. Fail, and I will ensure your organization is erased as thoroughly as the Quirks you despise.”

The Bliss Ocean Leader’s silhouette nodded, the bright eyes narrowing. “A fair bargain. But know this, Flect: we are not your followers. We are equals in this war. Cross us, and your precious cult will be nothing but a memory.”

______________________________________________________________________
“So both of you are looking for someone?” asked Yugo, his dirty blonde hair slightly messy as he leaned forward, his bright green eyes filled with curiosity and a touch of youthful energy. At twelve, he had a natural warmth about him, though his habit of scratching the back of his head when he was unsure showed he was still just a kid at heart, even if he often acted older than his age.

“Uh-huh,” nodded Aino, her pink hair bouncing with every enthusiastic movement. The heart-shaped tuft of hair on top of her head wiggled as if it had a mind of its own, matching her endlessly cheerful demeanor. “Saki’s looking for an old friend at Beacon!” Her voice was light and bubbly, carrying a kind of infectious optimism that made it hard for anyone to stay gloomy around her. She clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with hope. “It’s like destiny pulling us together!”

Saki let out an exasperated sigh, crossing her arms tightly. Her black tights and skirt shifted slightly as she shifted in her seat, her blue eyes narrowing with irritation. “Yes…” she muttered, her tone sharp but tinged with a weariness that hinted at deeper worries. She cared deeply about finding her friend, but Aino’s romantic spin on things always grated on her more practical nature. Still, she couldn’t deny that Aino’s presence was a comfort, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

Yugo tilted his head, his hat tilting with him as he thought. He glanced across the noisy cafeteria, where a group of kids sat together at a table, their voices blending with the clatter of trays and chatter of students. “Have you asked Cyane?” he suggested, pointing toward a boy with cyan hair sitting with his friends. The boy, Cyane, had a calm but intense look about him, like someone who was always ready for action. Next to him was a girl with magenta hair, Astra, her confident smirk suggesting she was already scheming something. Beside her sat a sturdy boy with light yellow hair, Pyre, his laughter booming as he slapped the table in amusement. And finally, a girl with purple hair, Vex, who wore a scowl that made it clear she was annoyed just to be there.

Aino’s face lit up at the mention of Cyane’s group. “Oh, Cyane and his friends! They seem so interesting!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Maybe they know something about Saki’s friend, or maybe they need our help with something! We can all work together!”

Saki rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of reluctant amusement in her gaze. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she warned, though her voice softened slightly when she spoke to Aino. “Cyane’s group is… unpredictable. And that purple-haired girl looks like she’d rather fight us than help.”

Yugo grinned, his small fangs flashing briefly in a way that made him look both cute and determined. “They’re not so bad! Cyane helped me out once when I messed up with my portals. Astra’s smart, even if she likes to tease people. Pyre’s really strong, like he could lift a boulder without breaking a sweat. Vex… well, she’s tough, but she’s not as mean as she seems.”

Aino giggled, her cheerful nature radiating like a warm glow. She stood up abruptly, already set on her next move. “Let’s go talk to them! Maybe they’ve seen Saki’s friend, or maybe they have their own problem we can solve together! Helping each other is what friends do!”

Saki stood reluctantly, adjusting the yellow headband that kept her hair in check as she shot Yugo a skeptical look. “This better not be a waste of time,” she said, but there was a hint of trust in her eyes. Yugo’s earnest kindness reminded her of Aino, and despite her usual aloofness, she couldn’t help but respect his determination and willingness to step up.

As the three approached Cyane’s table, the group fell silent, their gazes shifting to the newcomers. Cyane looked up, his cyan hair catching the light, and offered a small, knowing smile. “Well, if it isn’t Aino, Saki, and the portal kid,” he said, his voice steady but with a hint of playful challenge. “What brings you over here?”

Astra leaned back in her chair, her magenta hair framing her face like a vibrant frame, and smirked. “Let me guess,” she said, her tone sharp but teasing. “You need our help with something crazy, don’t you, Aino?”

Aino beamed, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe! Saki’s looking for an old friend, and we thought you might know something. Oh, and hi, Pyre! Hi, Vex! You both look so capable and interesting!”

Pyre chuckled, his broad shoulders shaking the table slightly. “Flattery won’t get you everywhere, pink hair,” he said, but his voice was friendly. “But if there’s a challenge involved, I’m in.”

Vex snorted, her purple hair falling into her eyes as she glared. “Speak for yourself, Pyre. I’m not here to play hero for anyone.” But despite her words, there was a spark of curiosity in her gaze, especially when it landed on Saki’s determined expression.

Yugo stepped forward, his youthful energy and sincerity cutting through the tension. “We could really use your help,” he said earnestly. “Saki’s friend might be in trouble, and we’d be stronger if we worked together. That’s what teamwork is all about, right?”

Cyane exchanged a quick look with his friends, then nodded. “Fine. But if this turns into one of your big adventures, Yugo, don’t expect us to clean up the mess afterward.” His tone was dry, but there was a flicker of excitement in his eyes. He knew that with Aino’s boundless optimism, Saki’s resolve, and Yugo’s drive, they were likely heading into something significant—whether they were prepared or not.

Astra smirked, cracking her knuckles. “This should be fun. Let’s see if your enthusiasm can keep up with my plans, Aino.”
______________________________________________________________________
Akatsuki walked through the sleek, sterile halls of one of Hinobi’s many global headquarters, his polished boots echoing faintly against the polished floors. He moved with a deliberate, almost predatory grace, his dark blue hair catching the harsh fluorescent lights, casting sharp shadows across his stern features. To the casual observer, he appeared to be a high-class technical officer of the Japanese Imperial Army, his white military jacket pristine and authoritative, a stark contrast to the modern, tech-heavy environment around him. But beneath the facade, his mind was a whirlwind of focus and resolve, driven by a mission that had haunted him for fifty years.

“Hmmm…” he mused aloud, his deep voice carrying a weight that belied his youthful appearance. His perpetually furrowed brow and tight-lipped scowl gave him an air of unyielding determination, as if every step forward was a battle in itself. Fifty years ago, he had been believed dead, lost during a disastrous mission in the Arctic Pole while transporting a new allied military unit. Miraculously—or perhaps unnaturally—he had emerged unscathed, unaged, his body and mind preserved by the mysterious power of the Blitz Motor, a source of superhuman abilities now coursing through him. Now, he was here, not just to complete his original task, but to ensure that the Blitz Motors—and the chaos they could unleash—were destroyed once and for all.

Posing as an ambassador from the Japanese Imperial Army, Akatsuki had infiltrated Hinobi under the guise of a security consultant, his sharp eyes scanning the high-tech displays and bustling employees for any sign of Stratos Gear’s shadowy influence. His mission was clear: uncover the roots of Stratos Gear, a organization rumored to be tied to the very technology that had nearly cost him his life decades ago. But his arrogance was tempered by a singular focus—he was no mere soldier; he was a force of nature, a man who had stared down death and emerged stronger, his every action a testament to his unrelenting drive.

As he passed a secured lab, his senses prickled. Something was off. Near the headquarters, reports had surfaced of strange Elektrosoldat tech—advanced machinery eerily similar to the experimental equipment he had once been tasked to handle. His hand instinctively tightened into a fist, the crackle of electricity dancing faintly at his fingertips, a reminder of the power he now wielded. If Stratos Gear was connected to this, if they were resurrecting the same dangers he had sworn to eradicate, he would not hesitate.

Suddenly, a faint hum filled the air, followed by a sharp, electric crackle from within the lab. Akatsuki’s scowl deepened as he pushed open the door, his presence commanding and intimidating. Inside, he saw it—a flickering holographic interface displaying data on the Virus, a digital threat he thought had been eradicated long ago. But now, it was active again, its code pulsing with a sinister energy. Mycale’s magic, he realized, must have played a role in its revival, weaving ancient forces with modern technology to breathe new life into a nightmare.

“I am the Indomitable God of Thunder,” Akatsuki muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl that carried both pride and menace. “Nothing shall stand before me.” It was less a boast and more a declaration of fact, a promise to himself and to the mission he had carried for half a century. He stepped closer to the console, his reserved demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the fire within. He was no stranger to betrayal—his past with Gesellschaft, the organization that had experimented on him, had taught him that much. They had turned him into their prototype, “Prototyp 1,” and then abandoned him to the icy depths. But he had survived, and now, he was their greatest threat.

His mind raced as he analyzed the data. The Elektrosoldat tech, the Virus, Stratos Gear—it all pointed to a conspiracy far larger than he had anticipated. But Akatsuki was undeterred. No obstacle, no enemy, no amount of time could sway him from his path. He had woken from his icy prison a fish out of temporal water, but he adapted, learned, and now stood as a living legend, his white jacket a symbol of both his near-death and his unyielding resolve.

With a swift motion, he disabled the lab’s security cameras, his movements precise and efficient. If Hinobi—or Stratos Gear—thought they could use the Blitz Motors or any derivative technology against him, they were gravely mistaken. He would see this through to the end, just as he had promised fifty years ago. Humans, he believed, were neither gods nor machines—they were something greater, something worth protecting, even if it meant destroying the very power that had saved him.

As he left the lab, his shadowed figure disappeared into the hallway, his mind already plotting his next move. The a virus was awake, the Elektrosoldat tech was a threat, and Stratos Gear’s roots ran deep. But Akatsuki was ready. No one—and nothing—would stop him. Not now, not ever.

Elsewhere another group held their own weapons.
Elsewhere, deep within the fortified depths of the Metal Forge bunker, a group of tech-obsessed beings stood in a dimly lit chamber, their metallic suits glinting under the harsh glow of overhead lights. The bunker buzzed with the constant hum of machinery and the faint crackle of energy fields, a testament to their obsession with cutting-edge technology and unrelenting control. They were the Sentinels of the Metal Forge, a faction as ruthless and driven as the Dark Legion, their minds and bodies augmented by cybernetics and their hearts fueled by a singular goal: dominance through innovation.

The Red Sentinel, clad in a sleek red suit with a black visor marked by white stripes, held a jagged piece of Spiral Armor in his cybernetic metal arm. The armor fragment shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly energy, its surface etched with intricate circuits that pulsed faintly, as if alive. His visor reflected the light in cold, unblinking lines, hiding the calculating gaze beneath. “Seems we’ve got everything,” he mused, his voice a low, confident rumble, tinged with a hint of arrogance. He turned the piece over, examining it with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction, his cybernetic fingers whirring softly as they adjusted their grip.

“Perfect,” chimed in the Green Sentinel, stepping forward with a measured stride. His suit was a deep emerald, its surface polished to a mirror finish, and his movements were precise, almost mechanical, as if he were as much machine as man. He stood in the center of the bunker, surrounded by holographic displays and weapon prototypes, his presence commanding yet understated. “This Spiral Armor could give us the edge we’ve been looking for. Its design is unlike anything Atlas has produced.”

The Pink Sentinel, her suit a vibrant yet menacing shade of rose, leaned against a nearby console, a thin trail of smoke curling from a crack in her armor where a faulty circuit had overheated. She exhaled sharply, her voice carrying a sharp edge of impatience. “Now should we look for that new robot Atlas made?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism. Her visor flickered briefly, displaying a stream of data about their rival’s latest creation, but her focus seemed divided, as if she were already planning her next move.

The Red Sentinel tilted his head, the white stripes on his visor glowing faintly as he considered her words. “I suppose,” he replied, his voice steady but dismissive. “But our priority should be sending the salvaged Spiral Armor to the Forge Factories. We can’t let this technology fall into the wrong hands—or worse, sit idle.”

“Agreed,” said the Blue Sentinel, his suit a deep cobalt that seemed to absorb the light around him. He was the most reserved of the group, his movements deliberate and his words few, but his authority was undeniable. Stepping toward a control panel, he pressed a button with a decisive click. A conveyor belt hummed to life, carrying the Spiral Armor fragment toward a swirling portal at the far end of the bunker. The portal’s edges crackled with energy, a gateway to another base where the Metal Forge’s engineers would dissect and replicate the armor’s secrets. “It’s secure,” he added, his voice a low monotone. “They’ll have it within the hour.”

The Red Sentinel nodded, his cybernetic arm retracting slightly as he handed off the fragment to the conveyor. “Good. The Forge Factories will know what to do with it. If Atlas thinks they can outpace us, they’re sorely mistaken.” His tone was laced with a mix of pride and threat, a reminder of the Metal Forge’s relentless drive to stay ahead of their rivals.

The Green Sentinel crossed his arms, his suit’s joints whirring softly. “And what about the robot? If Atlas is building something new, we need to be ready. Their designs are predictable, but their resources are vast.”

The Pink Sentinel smirked, the smoke from her suit dissipating as she straightened up. “Let them build their toys. We’ll crush them just like we always do. But I say we send a scout team to track down this new model. No point in letting Atlas gain any ground.”

The Blue Sentinel remained silent for a moment, his visor scanning the holographic maps of their territory. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a cold certainty. “Agreed. But the Spiral Armor takes precedence. Once it’s replicated, we’ll have the power to overwhelm any threat—Atlas, or anyone else.”
______________________________________________________________________
Deep within the heart of the most inhabited continent on this planet stood Evernight Castle, a structure older than most civilizations, its towering spires and blackened stone a testament to the enduring power of its creator, the Grimm Queen herself, Salem. It uncharted lands of Grimm pools located everywhere. Built in an era when the world was still wild and uncharted, the castle had recently undergone renovations, though Salem had been reluctant to alter its ancient design. The modern touches—sleek panels, hidden cameras, and reinforced walls—clashed with the gothic grandeur, but they served a purpose: to house the machinations of those who sought to bend the world to their will.

The most frequently used space in the castle was the conference hall, a cavernous room dominated by a circular crystal table that shimmered with an eerie, cold light. The table’s surface was smooth and flawless, reflecting the dim glow of the torches lining the walls, but it also concealed advanced holographic projectors and communication arrays, linking this ancient stronghold to the far reaches of the globe—and beyond.

Salem sat at the head of the table, her pale form almost ethereal in the flickering light, her expression unreadable but commanding. Around her, several shadowy figures occupied the other chairs, their forms barely discernible—vague outlines of cloaks, glints of armor, and the occasional flicker of eyes or machinery. Their identities were hidden, their faces swallowed by darkness, but their presence was palpable, a collective weight of ambition and malice.

Above the table, large screens flickered to life, displaying more figures who couldn’t attend in person. One screen showed a towering, cyclops-like shape encased in gleaming robotic armor, its single glowing eye scanning the room from afar, its massive mechanical arm twitching with anticipation. The other screens revealed additional leaders and directors, their forms equally obscured, their silhouettes suggesting a mix of human, machine, and something darker still.

“I’m glad we could all make it,” Salem began, her voice light but laced with a chilling undertone, as if every word carried the weight of centuries. “Even if others could not make it physically.”

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the faint hum of the screens and the crackle of the torches. The shadowy figures at the table shifted slightly, their obscured forms suggesting impatience or intrigue. From one of the screens, a deep, rasping voice spoke, belonging to a figure wrapped in bandages, its shape large with white hair and one glow of red, yet radiating a strange confidence. “Our goals align, Salem,” it said, its tone smooth but edged with menace. “World domination is within reach, but only if we coordinate.”

Another shadow at the table, its silhouette wiry and angular, leaned forward slightly, as if studying the crystal table with a scientist’s precision. “The technology is ready,” it said, its voice crisp and cold. “My forces have made strides with bio-engineering that could tip the balance in our favor.”

A high-pitched, chaotic voice cut through next, emanating from a smaller, frenetic shadow that seemed to tremble with excitement. “Chaos is the key, darling! We thrive on it! Let’s burn it all down and see what rises from the ashes!” Its laughter was shrill, almost manic, but carried an unsettling conviction.

Another figure, its form a blur of shadow and faint metallic glints, spoke with an intellectual tone tinged with excitement. “My designs for advanced machinery are nearly complete. With the right resources, we can overwhelm any resistance. Imagine it: machines and magic working in perfect harmony.”

A towering shape with a voice like gravel growled with horns from its seat, its silhouette suggesting immense strength and a cloak that seemed to absorb light. “My forces are ready to strike from the shadows. Their precious order will crumble.”

On a screen, a figure with a sleek, authoritative silhouette interjected, its voice calm but calculated. “Political leverage is just as crucial. My influence can destabilize governments from within. We need to strike at their foundations.”

The air in the conference hall thickened as more voices joined the chorus, each emerging from a different shadow or flickering screen, their origins as murky as the darkness that cloaked them. A hulking shape, its eyes glowing like embers in the void, rumbled a deep, guttural promise of destruction. Another, a slender form wreathed in tendrils of dark energy, hissed with a voice that seemed to slither through the room, its words sharp and venomous.

From yet another corner, a figure in what might have been ornate armor, its surface glinting faintly with an unknown metal, spoke with a commanding tone, as if accustomed to being obeyed. Nearby, a robotic silhouette with jagged, uneven edges crackled with static, its voice mechanical and cold, each word punctuated by a hum of power.

The screens above buzzed with additional presences, their forms little more than smudges of shadow and light. One screen showed a jagged outline that pulsed with erratic energy, suggesting a force driven by chaos and disruption. Another revealed a sleek, angular shape that whispered of calculated schemes and villainous plots, its voice smooth but laced with menace.

A third screen flickered with a shadowy mass that seemed to writhe, its voice high-pitched and frenzied, hinting at a group obsessed with despair and destruction. Beside it, a taller, more imposing silhouette loomed, its words heavy with the weight of secret missions and hidden agendas, as if it led a force that operated in the dark corners of the world.

More voices overlapped, each from a different source—a towering form that might have been draped in ancient symbols, its tone reverent yet ruthless, speaking of dragons and forgotten powers. Another, crackling with thunderous energy, boasted of divine might and unstoppable force, as if it represented a pantheon of wrathful deities.

A sleek, corporate silhouette on another screen spoke of profit and control, its voice polished but cold, hinting at a consortium that traded in influence and technology. Nearby, a militaristic shadow, its edges sharp and unyielding, promised order through oppression, its words clipped and authoritative.

Witchcraft seemed to whisper from a cloaked figure, its voice soft but carrying an ancient, malevolent weight, while an inky, shifting shape spoke of manipulation and secrets, its words dripping with dark artistry. A viral presence, its silhouette fragmented and unstable, hissed of infection and control, while a metallic form, its surface scarred and forged, growled of relentless progress and domination.

An emissary of supreme authority, its form barely visible, declared its intent with a voice that brooked no argument, while a regime’s silhouette, rigid and imposing, spoke of law and tyranny in equal measure. A liberation army’s shadow, defiant and fiery, promised freedom through upheaval, and a galactic empire’s outline, vast and cold, vowed to extend its reach across the stars.

A warlike dominion, its shape jagged and aggressive, roared of conquest and blood, while a bridge of shadows, its form elusive and shifting, murmured of stealth and betrayal. Chaos mages, their silhouettes swirling with dark energy, cackled of disorder and magic, and a media empire’s sleek outline promised to shape reality through lies and influence.

A gemstone-like figure, its edges gleaming faintly, spoke of wealth and power, while a toxic city’s shadow, its form corroded and unstable, hissed of innovation born from decay. A desert kingdom’s towering silhouette promised ancient strength, and a frozen land’s icy outline vowed endurance through isolation. A pirate haven’s ragged shape laughed of plunder and lawlessness, while a small but cunning city’s subtle form whispered of trickery and survival.

From the farthest reaches, a multi-star system tyrant’s vast shadow loomed, its voice echoing with the weight of countless worlds, promising subjugation on a cosmic scale. Each voice, each silhouette, painted a fragment of a vast, interconnected web of power, all converging on this single, fateful moment in Evernight Castle. Their words overlapped, a cacophony of ambition and malice, binding them together in a fragile alliance driven by a shared hunger for dominance.

Salem raised a hand, silencing the overlapping voices. “Our forces are diverse, but our goal is singular: to reshape this world in our image. The glitch-ridden horde will sow chaos in their networks, my forces will command the Grimm, and the law-enforcing regime will enforce our rule. Every piece must fit.”

From the shadows, a deep, resonant voice—belonging to a figure with a metallic sheen and a cloak of darkness—rumbled, “The salvaged armor we’ve found will give us an edge. No one will stand against our combined might.”

Another screen flickered, showing a figure wreathed in shadow, its voice dripping with malice. “And what of resistance? The heroes, the alliances—they won’t surrender easily.”

Salem’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. “Let them try. We have the numbers, the technology, the magic, and the will. This meeting is only the beginning. Soon, every continent, every star system, will bow to us.”

The crystal table glowed brighter, projecting a holographic map of the world and beyond, marking key targets and strategic points. The shadowy figures leaned in, their obscured forms tense with anticipation. The screens buzzed with agreement, and even the cyclops-like robot’s glowing eye narrowed in approval. The alliance was fragile, built on mutual greed and power, but for now, their shared vision of domination united them.

As the meeting continued, the castle’s ancient walls seemed to pulse with the weight of their plans, the renovations a mere facade for the timeless evil at its core. Salem watched them all, her allies in shadow and on screen, knowing that this was only the first step toward a new era—one where she, and they, would reign supreme.
______________________________________________________________________
“Perfect,” sneered a voice watching the planet below, “My project after all this time it is finally done, just a few more things to finish, and I’ll have my perfect attention to it.”

It floated watching everything with red and blue eyes, "All will fall in place."

Chapter Text

Vale.

In the heart of the vibrant Kingdom of Vale, where cobblestone streets wound through bustling markets and towering spires pierced the sky, stood Beacon Academy, the crown jewel of Huntsman training. Nestled along the eastern edge of Vale, the academy’s sprawling campus was a marvel of both architecture and purpose. Its ivory towers gleamed under the sun, overlooking a wide, shimmering river that carved through the grounds, while the distant cliffs and the verdant expanse of the Emerald Forest marked its boundaries. Beacon was no mere school—it was a crucible, forging teams of Huntsmen and Huntresses to battle the relentless Creatures of Grimm that plagued the world of Remnant.

Founded in the wake of the Great War, some eighty years ago, Beacon Academy was one of four prestigious Huntsmen academies established to safeguard humanity. Its rigorous entrance exam demanded exceptional skill, often honed at preparatory combat schools like Signal Academy. Once accepted, students resided in the academy’s dormitories, where every need—hygiene, meals, laundry—was meticulously provided. Yet, Beacon was not a prison; students were free to explore Vale’s lively streets during weekends, their laughter mingling with the city’s pulse. The academy’s reach extended beyond its walls, encompassing field trips to the crimson-hued Forever Fall Forest and training grounds along the rugged Beacon Cliff. At its helm stood the enigmatic Professor Ozpin, a figure as mysterious as the ancient relics he was rumored to guard, his piercing gaze and cryptic wisdom guiding generations of warriors.

Not far from Beacon, nestled in the shadow of Vale’s cliffs, lay Lumise Academy, a beacon of a different kind. Here, students with the rare gift of ink-based powers trained to become Ink Guardians, wielding abilities tied to the vibrant spectrum of color. Lumise was a technical marvel, its curriculum blending the fundamentals of ink manipulation with advanced techniques for crafting weapons infused with chromatic energy. Unlike Beacon’s singular focus on combat, Lumise offered flexibility—students could choose to live on campus or commute from Vale, fostering a diverse community of learners. The academy’s proximity to Beacon facilitated a unique partnership, with shared resources and seamless student transfers strengthening both institutions. From afar, Aurum Briers, the visionary head of Lumise Enterprises, oversaw the academy’s operations, his innovative spirit shaping its cutting-edge approach to power mastery.

Across the seas, in the bustling city of Musutafu, Mistral, Japan, another institution shone brightly: U.A. High School, the pinnacle of heroics education. Perched atop a forested hill, U.A. commanded a breathtaking view of the city below, its modern campus a testament to technological advancement. Renowned as Japan’s top Huntsman Academy, U.A. produced legends like All Might, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist, all of whom climbed the ranks to dominate Japan’s Hero Rankings. Students were sorted into departments and classes—A through K—based on their unique abilities, each class led by a democratically elected representative and vice-representative. These roles were more than ceremonial; they were a proving ground for leadership, coveted by students eager to impress Hero Agencies.

U.A.’s teaching philosophy was as unconventional as its leader, Principal Nezu, a bear-mouse hybrid whose intellect rivaled his quirk. Teachers, all heroes themselves, were granted freedom to shape their classes, fostering creativity and adaptability. Like Beacon, U.A. was transitioning into a boarding school, its reasons shrouded in secrecy but hinting at grand ambitions. Its advanced facilities and rigorous training prepared students to face threats far beyond the classroom, their dreams of heroism fueled by the legacy of those who came before.

These three academies—Beacon, Lumise, and U.A.—stood as pillars of hope in their respective worlds, drawing students from near and far. Transfer students flocked to Vale, some crossing oceans from Mistral to join Beacon’s ranks, while others moved between Lumise and Beacon with ease. Each school was a crucible of talent, forging warriors, guardians, and heroes to protect their lands. Yet, where such brilliance shone, shadows inevitably gathered. Dark forces—thieves, schemers, and monsters—coveted the power these academies wielded. Whispers of plots and betrayals stirred in the underbelly of Vale and Musutafu, threatening to unravel the delicate balance these schools upheld.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden hues over Beacon’s towers, Lumise’s vibrant halls, and U.A.’s hilltop campus, a storm loomed on the edge of destiny. The students, unaware of the gathering darkness, trained, laughed, and dreamed of glory. But the enemies of light were patient, their plans weaving like threads in a tapestry yet to be revealed. In this world of heroes and guardians, the true test was yet to come.
____________________________________________________________________________
The air in Hinobi’s sleek, high-tech meeting room hummed with a mix of curiosity and tension. Holographic displays flickered along the walls, casting a soft blue glow over the gathered group. Team RWBY and Team JNPR, fresh from Beacon Academy, sat alongside the Glitch Techs from Bailey's Hinobi branch, their worlds colliding in a briefing that promised something big. Ruby Rose and Weiss Schnee, partners in Team RWBY, had rushed through the halls to make it on time, Ruby’s red cloak trailing like a comet, Weiss’s heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Neither knew exactly what this meeting was about, but the urgency in Phil Altiere’s voice over the intercom had been enough to keep them focused.

Phil, stone-faced as ever, stood at the front, his Glitch Tech gauntlet glowing faintly as he manipulated the holo-screen. A snarling Beowolf materialized in the air, its bone-white mask etched with red markings, spikes jutting from its back and limbs, claws glinting menacingly. “This,” Phil said, his tone flat but commanding, “is a Grimm.”

Yang Xiao Long leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her lilac eyes glinting with interest. “Yeah, dark, creepy critters. We’ve tangled with these before.”

Miko Kubota, bouncing slightly in her seat, grinned. “Ooh, kinda like glitches, right? All shadowy and chaotic?”

Phil’s sigh crackled through the intercom. “Sure, let’s go with that. Grimm are creatures of destruction—soulless, no Aura, drawn to negative emotions like fear, hatred, or grief. They attack Humans and Faunus on sight, no hesitation.”

Nix, lounging with a cocky smirk, raised an eyebrow. “Well, they sound like a real party.”

Five, sitting beside him, shrugged. “About as fun as the glitches we zap daily.”

Miko flexed her arms, her gauntlet clinking. “Glitch or Grimm, I’ll slice ‘em, dice ‘em, and toss ‘em in a pixel blender!”

Ruby’s silver eyes sparkled, and she nudged Yang. “Okay, I like her.”

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose. “Focus. Huntsmen and Huntresses usually handle Grimm, but their numbers are spiking. Hinobi’s stepping in to collaborate. We’re also launching a Guardian Initiative, pairing our Ink Guardians with your teams for training.”

Prism, a mischievous teen with a glint in her eye, leaned forward, twirling a stylus like a weapon. “Yay, team-up time! Ready to cause some controlled chaos!”

Casey, sitting beside her, fidgeted, her voice a halting stutter. “I-I-I’m, um, h-happy t-to h-help, I th-think…” She waved shyly, her cheeks flushing.

Ven, ever the warm presence flashed a genuine smile, her wave enthusiastic but gentle. “It’s gonna be great working with you all!”

Weiss, arms crossed, let out a sharp huff. “Great? Babysitting trainees sounds like a liability.”

Mitch Williams, slouched in his chair, mirrored her annoyance. “Yeah, no thanks. I don’t do hand-holding.”

Miko rolled her eyes, undeterred. “Oh, come on, it’s gonna be awesome! New pals, new fights—what’s not to love?”

Nora Valkyrie, unable to contain her energy, slammed her hands on the table, nearly knocking over Ren’s water. “Heck yeah! More friends to smash Grimm with? Sign me up! BOOP!” She grinned at Ren, who sighed but offered a faint, fond smile.

Pyrrha Nikos, ever composed, raised a hand politely. “I think this partnership could be beneficial. We all have unique skills to share.”

Jaune Arc, nodding a bit too eagerly, chimed in. “Yeah, totally! I mean, we’re all here to, uh, protect people, right?”

Lie Ren, quiet as ever, spoke softly, his words deliberate. “If Hinobi’s tech can help us track Grimm, it’s worth trying.”

BITT, hovering near Phil, chirped in his robotic monotone. “Affirmative! Hinobi’s systems can analyze Grimm patterns with 87.3% accuracy. I am BITT, ready to assist!”

Ruby clapped her hands, barely containing her excitement. “This is so cool! It’s like we’re mixing Dust and tech to make the ultimate Grimm-zapping team!”

Weiss shot her a look. “Ruby, contain yourself. This is a professional operation.”

Phil cleared his throat, the holo-screen shifting to display a map of Vale dotted with red Grimm sightings. “You’ll start joint patrols tomorrow. Glitch Techs, your gauntlets are being upgraded to handle Grimm energy signatures. Huntsmen, you’ll train the Ink Guardians in field combat. Questions?”

Prism’s hand shot up, her grin wicked. “Can I mess with the Grimm’s heads? Like, glitch their vibes or something?”

Casey’s eyes widened, her voice trembling. “P-P-Prism, th-that s-sounds, um, d-dangerous…”

Ven laughed, patting Casey’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep her in check. Right, Prism?”

Prism stuck out her tongue. “No promises!”

Phil’s deadpan stare didn’t waver. “Stick to the plan. No freelancing. Dismissed.”

As the group dispersed, Ruby zipped over to Miko, vibrating with enthusiasm. “So, your gauntlets shoot lasers? That’s so awesome! Crescent Rose has a sniper mode, wanna see?”

Miko grinned, already liking Ruby’s energy. “Heck yeah, show me the goods!”

Weiss groaned, trailing after them. “Ruby, we have homework!”

Yang chuckled, nudging Blake, who’d been quietly observing. “This is gonna be a wild ride, huh?”

Blake’s amber eyes flicked to the Glitch Techs, then back to Yang. “As long as they can keep up.”

In the corner, Gray, the quietest Ink Guardian, watched silently, their expression unreadable. They adjusted their gauntlet, saying nothing, but their sharp eyes tracked every movement in the room.

The holographic displays in Hinobi’s meeting room pulsed with data as the briefing continued, the air thick with anticipation. Ruby Rose bounced in her seat, her silver eyes wide with excitement, while Weiss Schnee sat rigidly, her pale blue gaze narrowing at every new detail. Team JNPR, seated nearby, exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from Pyrrha’s calm curiosity to Nora’s barely contained urge to leap up and smash something. The Glitch Techs—Miko, Five, Nix, and Mitch—leaned forward, their gauntlets glowing faintly, while the Ink Guardians, Prism, Casey, Ven, and the silent Gray, occupied a corner, their presence adding a fresh dynamic to the room.

Ruby clapped her hands, her voice bubbling over. “We get to work with the Glitch Techs! This is gonna be so cool!”

Blake Belladonna, her amber eyes scanning the room, nodded slightly. “It’ll be… interesting, to say the least.”

Bergy, one of the Glitch Techs, scratched his head, his bulky frame shifting in his chair. “So, uh, who’s gonna be paired with me?”

BITT, the egg-shaped robot floating near the holo-screen, spun cheerfully, his Kaomoji-like face flashing a smile. “No worries, Bergy! We’ve got suggestions for everyone. Not all partners will be Huntsmen—Ink Guardians can tangle with Grimm, too, you know!”

Phil Altiere’s voice crackled over the intercom, dry as ever. “As I was saying, you’ll be paired with Huntsmen or Guardians based on mission needs and skill levels.”

Pyrrha Nikos raised a hand, her tone polite but curious. “Will we have any say in choosing our groups?”

Jaune Arc, scratching the back of his neck, piped up. “Yeah, I mean, I’d kinda like to stick with Five and my team, you know?”

Phil’s response was blunt. “No choosing. We’re ranking Huntsmen teams and matching them with Glitch Techs and Guardians based on experience.”

Weiss’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. “And how exactly does that work?”

BITT zipped into the center of the room, his voice chipper. “Simple! We rank teams by overall experience and skills. For example, Team JNPR’s solid track record lands them with Mitch’s crew.”

Mitch Williams shot up, his face twisting in indignation. “What?! Why do they get to join my team?”

Weiss, equally affronted, pointed an accusing finger. “Yes, why them and not me?”

Ruby, grinning, gave Jaune a thumbs-up. “Nice going, Jaune!” Jaune shrugged, clearly confused but rolling with it.

Phil’s voice cut through the chaos. “Teams are ranked as units. Team RWBY, you’re with what I call the D-Team of our branch—Five and Miko—plus Ven’s Ink Guardians.”

Weiss’s jaw dropped, her words failing her for once. Ruby and Yang, on the other hand, high-fived, thrilled with the arrangement. Ven beamed, her warm smile easing the tension, while Blake watched Weiss’s reaction with quiet amusement, her expression neutral.

“Awesome sauce!” Prism crowed, leaning back with a mischievous grin. “Gonna be dope working with some Huntresses.”

Casey, blushing, leaned toward Prism, her voice a shaky whisper. “P-P-Prism, d-does this h-have anyth-thing to d-do with th-them b-being p-pretty g-girls?”

Prism’s eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically. “N-nope! Totally not that!”

Ven chuckled, patting Casey’s shoulder. “It’ll be a pleasure working with you all. We’ve got this!”

Phil’s voice returned, unamused. “Good, because we’ve got glitches to cover. BITT, take it away.”

BITT’s holo-screen flickered, displaying a swirling mass of pixelated energy. “Glitches, aka Zoids, are video game entities that leak into our world through faulty Hinobi consoles. They’re made of Plixels—physical manifestations of code, appearing as objects or entities. Every glitch starts as a root form, like a wisp of electricity. When it touches computer data, it shapes itself based on that info, forming its appearance and, if it’s an entity, its personality. Glitches need energy to stay solid; deplete it, and they revert to root form.”

Ruby leaned forward, starry-eyed. “Whoa, that’s so interesting!”

BITT’s screen shifted to show a menagerie of glitch types. “Glitches aren’t one-size-fits-all. They come in all flavors.”

Yang cracked her knuckles, smirking. “Alright, what’re the normal ones we’ll be punching?”

“Normal glitches are usually humanoid,” BITT explained, “and can only affect the world by physically interacting with it. But some are animalistic.” The screen displayed a Chomp Kitty, a massive cat with glowing green fur, purple stripes, and a vicious grin full of sharp teeth. Its detached ears and tail floated eerily, and its black-pupiled eyes gleamed. “Take Chomp Kitty. Twice as tall as a big guy, loves to chomp anything in sight.”

Miko pumped her fist. “Oh, I’m so taking that cat down!”

Nora bounced in her seat, nearly knocking over Ren’s water again. “A giant kitty? I’ll hammer it into next week! BOOP!”

Ren, ever calm, spoke softly. “How do we counter their energy needs?”

BITT’s face lit up. “Great question! Drain their glitch energy with your gauntlets or Dust-based attacks. Huntsmen, your weapons can disrupt their Plixel structure. Guardians, your ink-tech can destabilize them.”

Prism smirked, twirling a stylus. “Bet I can glitch that kitty’s grin right off its face.”

Casey stammered, “P-Please d-don’t m-make it m-madder…”

Ven smiled reassuringly. “We’ll handle it together, Casey. No kitty’s too tough for us.”

Gray, silent as always, watched from the corner, their sharp eyes flicking between the holo-screen and their teammates, their gauntlet humming faintly.

Weiss, still fuming, muttered, “This better not be a waste of my time.”

Mitch, arms crossed, grumbled in agreement. “Yeah, I’m not here to babysit rookies.”

Phil’s voice cut in, final. “Deal with it. Training starts tomorrow. Get ready to hunt Grimm and zap glitches. Dismissed.”

As the group began to disperse, Ruby zipped over to Miko, practically vibrating. “Your gauntlets shoot lasers? That’s awesome! Wanna see Crescent Rose’s sniper mode?”

Miko grinned, matching Ruby’s energy. “Heck yeah, let’s geek out!”

Yang nudged Blake, chuckling. “This is gonna be a blast, right?”

“Okay…” Blake said, her voice low and cautious, “so, is that all?”

“Nope!” BITT chirped, its Kaomoji-like face beaming as it spun in midair. The hologram shifted to a chaotic array of glitch types. “We’ve got more! Spawner Glitches multiply if you attack and miss. Mapper Glitches can reshape the look of anything—living or not—in the real world. Possessor Glitches take over humans or machines, copying the glitch’s form and powers. Over time, the host’s mind starts merging with the glitch’s code. Creepy, right?”

The screen flashed to Multiplayer Glitches, showing a swarm of coordinated entities. “These only go down if you destroy their respawn hub first. They’re the only glitches that act like a team. Then there’s Copycat Glitches, spawning clones of anything they touch. And finally, Illegal Glitches—ones with jacked-up, modified code that makes them unpredictable.”

Nora Valkyrie’s eyes widened, her usual grin faltering as she tugged at her hammer’s strap. “Whoa, that’s… a lot to keep track of.”

BITT bobbed reassuringly. “No sweat! Our Glitch Techs have it all locked in—thanks to Hinobi’s extreme tutorials.”

Miko Kubota groaned, slumping forward to rest her face on the table with a dramatic thud. “Yeah, those tutorials are not fun. You guys are lucky you get to skip that torture.” Five, sitting beside her, gave her a sympathetic pat on the back, chuckling softly.

Phil’s voice crackled over the intercom, cutting through the chatter. “Focus. This briefing’s to prepare you for glitches showing up near Grimm. If either side needs backup, you’ll step in. And speaking of which, we’ve got active glitch sightings now. Time to move.”

The room snapped into motion. Ruby Rose leapt to her feet, Crescent Rose already in hand, her silver eyes gleaming with excitement. “Let’s go zap some glitches and smash some Grimm!”

Weiss Schnee sighed, standing with a flick of her ponytail. “Ruby, this is not a game. We need precision, not chaos.”

Yang Xiao Long grinned, cracking her knuckles. “Relax, Weiss. We’ll punch first, plan later.”

Blake, adjusting Gambol Shroud, glanced at Yang. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Jaune Arc fumbled with his shield, trying to look confident. “Right, uh, Team JNPR, ready to… do this!”

Pyrrha Nikos offered him a warm smile, her spear Miló at the ready. “We’ll be fine, Jaune. Just follow the plan.”

Nora bounced beside Lie Ren, nearly knocking him over. “Glitches, Grimm, whatever! I’m gonna hammer ‘em all! BOOP!” Ren sighed, steadying her with a gentle hand, his calm demeanor unshaken.

Miko, now perked up, slammed her gauntlet on the table. “Alright, let’s glitch-blast these suckers! Five, you with me?”

Five nodded, his easygoing grin in place. “Always, Miko. Let’s show these Huntsmen how we roll.”

Nix smirked, adjusting his arcade-themed gauntlet. “Hope you rookies can keep up with the Scorekeeper.”

Mitch Williams scoffed, already halfway to the door. “Whatever. Just don’t slow me down.”

Prism, twirling a stylus with a mischievous glint, nudged Casey. “Ready to cause some fun out there?”

Casey’s face flushed, her voice a trembling stutter. “I-I-I’m n-not s-sure I-I’m r-ready f-for th-this…”

Ven placed a reassuring hand on Casey’s shoulder, her smile warm. “You’ll do great, Casey. We’re all in this together.”

Gray, silent as ever, rose without a word, their sharp eyes scanning the group as they adjusted their ink-tech gauntlet, its faint hum the only sound they made.

Phil’s voice echoed one last time. “Sync your gear, check your weapons, and move out. Glitches don’t wait.”

As the teams filed out, Ruby darted over to Miko, practically vibrating. “So, do your gauntlets have, like, a super mode? ‘Cause Crescent Rose has this awesome scythe-sniper combo!”

Miko laughed, matching Ruby’s energy. “Oh, you’re gonna love the pixel-craft mode. Stick with me, Red!”

Weiss groaned, trailing them. “Ruby, we have a mission!”

Yang nudged Blake, smirking. “Bet those two cause more trouble than the glitches.”

Blake’s lips twitched faintly. “As long as they don’t get us killed.”
____________________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere in Vale…

Cinder Fall tapped her finger impatiently on the table, her amber eyes fixed on Abbonox.
“Well? Have you found the Trigger Dust yet?” she demanded, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Abbonox shrugged, running a hand through his black-blue hair. “That’s the thing. We’ve heard rumors about a possible location, but it could take some time to—”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” Cinder interrupted, her voice cold and measured. “I asked for results. Time is a luxury I don’t have.”

Abbonox chuckled nervously, trying to maintain his composure. “Relax. I came prepared.” He set a suitcase on the table and popped it open with a slow, deliberate hiss.

Inside, rows of Trigger Dust vials gleamed under the dim light—neatly arranged and ready for use.

Trigger Dust was a notorious drug, rumored to enhance an individual’s powers at the cost of their self-control. Illegal in most countries, it was trafficked by criminal organizations and distributed in pre-filled syringes—usually injected at the neck. While there was a legal variant used for mundane ailments, the real thing was dangerous, unpredictable, and all too easy to find if you knew where to look.

Cinder’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Not bad. This will do for now. But I expect the rest—and soon. Unless you want our little partnership to end… unpleasantly.”

Abbonox nodded, swallowing hard. “Understood. So, you want us to stir up some trouble in the meantime?”

“Of course,” Cinder replied, her tone silky and dangerous. “You play your part, and I’ll play mine.”

With a curt nod, Abbonox slipped out of the room, leaving Cinder alone with her thoughts—and her mysterious contacts. He knew better than to cross her; after all, he had his own orders to follow. For now, he’d play along with the Ember Order’s game.
____________________________________________________________________________
Mercury sauntered in, munching on popcorn, with Emerald trailing close behind. The two watched as Ramixe barked orders at Galileo, directing him where to stash the stolen Dust and other loot. Galileo, the muscle of the Marauders, handled the heavy lifting with ease.

“Come on, put some muscle into it! We’ve got more Dust coming soon,” Ramixe snapped, his black and green hair falling over his eyes as he waved another box toward Galileo.

Emerald sidled up and tapped Ramixe on the shoulder, making him jump. “Soooo… how’s it going?” she asked, her tone sweet but unmistakably mocking.

Before Ramixe could answer, Pythos emerged from the shadows, his pale blue hair obscuring his face and casting a sinister air over the room.
“A regular supervillain entrance,” Mercury quipped, popping another kernel of popcorn into his mouth.

“Ooo, free snacks!” Galileo rumbled, reaching for Mercury’s popcorn. Mercury slapped his hand away without missing a beat.

“Yeah, don’t even think about it,” Mercury shot back, smirking.

Suddenly, the door crashed open as Abbonox strode in, all swagger and bravado. “Greetings, my friends! We’ve got our orders,” he announced grandly. The Marauders turned to listen, while Emerald rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

“We’re supposed to cause a bit of a fuss here,” Abbonox declared, as if revealing a master plan.

“Great, because recruiting more troublemakers is exactly what we need,” Ramixe replied with dry sarcasm.

“At least we’ll have all our crew together,” Galileo grunted, setting down another box.

Abbonox grinned. “Exactly. While we handle the messy, obvious work, these two—” he gestured at Mercury and Emerald “—will be doing the infiltrating.”

“Aww, gee, thanks. You’re an inspiration to every punk with a gun and a ski mask,” Mercury deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

Abbonox ignored the jab and turned to Ramixe. “How close is Levero to getting back?”

Ramixe shrugged. “He said he’d be in Vale today. But who knows if that swindler’s telling the truth—it’s your call.”

“Kinda like the Bowler Hat Guy,” Galileo muttered. Mercury snorted in amusement.

Emerald chuckled, “Yeah, Galio, just like that Bowler Hat Guy.”

Abbonox waved them off. “He’ll be here. Even he can’t resist a good deal.”

As Abbonox continued to rally his crew, Emerald leaned in toward Mercury. “So, when’s your little meeting happening?”

Mercury shrugged, his usual bravado tinged with annoyance. “No idea. They were super vague. And, honestly, I didn’t like the way they looked at me.”

Suddenly, the bar’s door swung open, silencing the room. Cinder strode in, her presence commanding immediate attention. A sly smile played on her lips.

“Good news, my disciples,” she announced, her voice smooth and confident. “We can move on to the next phase.”

Mercury and Emerald exchanged eager grins, their anticipation clear. Abbonox glanced at his crew, who simply shrugged and smirked, ready for whatever came next.
____________________________________________________________________________
Ridley looked outside a limo window at the big city.

The limousine’s tinted windows framed a dazzling view of Sweet Jazz City, the capital of Taiga Country, where the skyline shimmered with a blend of artistic flair and unchecked ambition. Skyscrapers gleamed under the midday sun, their glass facades reflecting the vibrant chaos of a city that thrived on creativity and loose regulations. Sweet Jazz City was a hub for the arts and sciences, home to first-rate businesses, sprawling shopping centers, and a playground for the elite socialites who flocked to its diamond-white beaches. Yet, beneath its polished surface, the city harbored a darker side—alleys filled with criminals, and whispers of organizations like Bliss Ocean, whose towering headquarters loomed in the distance, peddling shampoo and secrets in equal measure.

Ridley Croft, her short frame slouched in the plush leather seat, peered out the window with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Her goggles rested on her forehead, and her fingers fidgeted with a small, modded Hinobi device she’d been tinkering with during the ride. The salty breeze from the nearby coast slipped through the cracked window, mingling with the faint hum of the limo’s engine. Sweet Jazz City’s beaches, dotted with sunbathers and the occasional Dunce Cap Nudibranch washed ashore, were a far cry from her usual haunt in Bailey. The wreckage-strewn shoreline and the purplish, damp alleyways leading to the coast felt oddly familiar, though—like the kind of place where she could dig up some new tech to hack.

“Ya know, Feenie,” Ridley said, her voice carrying a skeptical edge as she glanced at Phoenica Fleecity XV, “when you said you wanted me to meet your friends, I didn’t expect you’d drag me all the way to Sweet Jazz City. At least it’s not too far from home.”

Phoenica, perched elegantly across from her, beamed with her usual boundless enthusiasm. Her long blonde hair, adorned with pink bows and golden bells that jingled softly with every movement, caught the sunlight streaming through the window. Her pink dress with its puffy white underskirt and blue accents seemed almost too pristine for the gritty beach they were approaching. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all, Ridley!” she chirped, her teal eyes sparkling with earnest delight. “Here, have a hundred dollars!” Without hesitation, she plucked a crisp bill from her seemingly endless supply and tossed it toward Ridley, who caught it with a bewildered blink.

“Uh… thanks?” Ridley muttered, holding the bill up to the light as if checking for a catch. Her distrustful nature, honed by years of being bullied for her “weird” love of tech, made her question the gesture. But Phoenica’s guileless smile suggested no ulterior motive—just the kind of absurd generosity that came with being the richest girl in the world, and perhaps the least sensible.

“No problem at all!” Phoenica declared, clasping her hands together. “My friends Molly and Trixie are going to love meeting you! They’re the best, and we’re the Neo Trio, you know—because our hair’s like Neapolitan ice cream!” She giggled, bells jingling, oblivious to the fact that Ridley had no context for the nickname.

Ridley raised an eyebrow, pocketing the money with a shrug. “Neo Trio, huh? Sounds like a gang of dessert-themed superheroes.” Her tone was dry, but a smirk tugged at her lips. Despite her guarded demeanor, she couldn’t help but find Phoenica’s earnestness oddly endearing—a stark contrast to the emotional volatility that often defined her own interactions.

The limo slowed as it approached the beachfront, where the sand sparkled like crushed diamonds under the sun. Beachgoers lounged under colorful umbrellas, while others gently returned stranded Dunce Cap Nudibranchs to the sea, a local custom Phoenica had mentioned earlier. The driver pulled into a parking area near a cluster of palm trees, and Phoenica practically bounced out of the vehicle, her bells chiming with every step. Ridley followed, her oversized hoodie and modded sneakers looking out of place among the elite socialites in their designer swimwear.

Waiting by a weathered wooden bench near the boardwalk were Molly-Wolly-Doodle-All-the-Day also known as "Molly" Blyndeff and Bellatrix "Trixie" Roughhouse, the other two-thirds of the Neo Trio. Molly, a small girl with brown skin and curly dark hair adorned with rainbow-colored stars, gripped the straps of her backpack tightly—a nervous habit that was second nature to her. Her bear-themed hoodie, a gift from her late mother, hung loosely on her frame, and her button-like eyes scanned the approaching figures with a mix of curiosity and caution. The faint bags under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights running the Blyndeff Toy Emporium, a burden no twelve-year-old should carry.

Trixie, meanwhile, stood with a defiant slouch, their pink hair tied back with a beaded hair tie and their baggy purple hoodie concealing an arsenal of boxcutters. A white bandage adorned their pale face, and their single visible eye glinted with a mix of mischief and wariness. They chewed on a sour gummy worm, their favorite snack, and muttered something about the “stupid rich people” crowding the beach.

“Feenie!” Molly called out, her voice soft but carrying a hint of relief as she spotted Phoenica. She adjusted her hoodie, the bear ears on its hood bobbing slightly. “You’re late. I was starting to think you got lost in one of those creepy alleys again.”

Phoenica laughed, skipping over to hug Molly, who stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. “Oh, Molly dear, I’d never get lost! I brought someone special to meet you both!” She gestured grandly to Ridley, who lingered a few steps behind, sizing up the duo with a hacker’s instinct for assessing threats.

Trixie’s eye narrowed, and they crossed their arms, a boxcutter glinting briefly in their sleeve before disappearing. “Who’s this?” they asked, their tone sharp but not hostile. “Some tech nerd Feenie picked up? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

Ridley bristled, her hand tightening around her modded device. “Name’s Ridley Croft. I’m from Bailley, and I’m not just some ‘tech nerd.’ I hack and mod stuff you couldn’t even dream of.” Her voice carried a defensive edge, a reflex from years of dealing with bullies who mocked her height and tech obsession. But Trixie’s rough-around-the-edges vibe felt oddly familiar, like the kind of person Ridley might’ve run into in a sketchy alley while scavenging for parts.

Molly stepped forward, her expression softening despite her exhaustion. “Hey, don’t mind Trixie. They’re just… protective. I’m Molly Blyndeff.” She hesitated, then offered a small smile, the kind she reserved for difficult customers at the toy store. “Feenie said you’re into tech? That’s pretty cool. I, uh, don’t know much about that stuff, but I run my family’s store, so I get having to figure things out on your own.”

Ridley relaxed slightly, sensing Molly’s sincerity. “Yeah, sounds like you’ve got your own mess to deal with. Running a store at your age? That’s rough.” She glanced at Trixie, who was still eyeing her suspiciously. “And you, what’s your deal? You look like you’re ready to shank someone.”

Trixie grinned, a flash of teeth that was equal parts menace and pride. “Maybe I am. Name’s Trixie Roughhouse. I make potions, scare off creeps, and talk to ghosts. You got a problem with that?” They leaned forward, their glowstick necklace clinking, testing Ridley’s reaction.

“Ghosts, huh?” Ridley’s smirk widened. “That’s new. I’ve modded glitches into pets, so maybe we’re not so different. You ever try mixing your potions with tech? Could make ‘em actually work.”

Trixie’s eye sparkled with interest, but they kept their tough facade. “Potions do work. My Potion of Go Away sent a mugger running last week. Bet your tech can’t do that.”

“Wanna bet?” Ridley shot back, pulling out her device and tapping a few buttons. A small, pixelated glitch in the shape of a cat flickered into existence beside her, purring softly. “Meet Horn. He’s a glitch I modded to be docile. Could probably scare off a mugger faster than your grape jelly mix.”

Phoenica clapped her hands, oblivious to the tension. “Oh, this is wonderful! You’re all getting along already! Let’s go walk by the beach—maybe we’ll find some nudibranchs to save!” She grabbed Molly’s hand, then reached for Trixie’s, who grumbled but didn’t resist.

Molly glanced at Ridley, her voice barely above a whisper. “Feenie’s… a lot, but she means well. You’ll get used to her.” She paused, gripping her backpack straps tighter. “And, um, if you’re ever in trouble, I can… mute stuff. With my epithet. It’s called Dumb, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Ridley raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Mute stuff? Like, silence? That’s actually kinda dope. Maybe you can shut up Trixie’s attitude for me.”

Trixie snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in their expression. “Keep dreaming, tech girl. Come on, let’s see if you can keep up with the Neo Trio.”

As the group headed toward the beach, the waves crashing softly against the shore and the distant hum of Sweet Jazz City’s chaos fading behind them, Ridley felt a strange sense of possibility. These kids were weird—maybe even weirder than her. And for once, that didn’t feel like a bad thing and besides if Mitch could give her a chance these guys certainly could.
____________________________________________________________________________
Aurum sighed, his polished boots echoing softly against the marble floors of his sprawling mansion as he traversed its grand hallway. The walls, adorned with gilded tapestries and portraits of his ancestors, whispered of a legacy built on wealth, wisdom, and an unyielding drive to protect. Unlike his forebears, whose greed had often outshone their virtues, Aurum tempered his ambition with kindness—a beacon of hope in a world teetering on the edge of chaos. His light whitish-golden hair caught the glow of crystal chandeliers overhead, and his piercing yellow eyes flickered with determination. This mansion, his base of operations, was more than a home; it was the nerve center for a plan that could reshape the fate of nations.

He entered his study, a cavernous room lined with bookshelves and holographic displays that hummed with cutting-edge tech. At the center stood a massive oak desk, its surface cluttered with maps, data tablets, and a single, well-worn coin—a memento of his humbler beginnings. Aurum settled into his high-backed chair, his tailored coat settling around him like a mantle of authority. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the towering screen before him, its surface blooming with feeds of heroes and huntsmen from across the globe. Faces and names scrolled past, each representing a spark of potential in a world fracturing under the weight of new threats.

The world was changing. Landmasses rose from the seas, uncharted and teeming with unknown dangers. Strange rifts had begun to appear, spilling creatures and phenomena that defied explanation. Heroes operated in silos—brave, but scattered, their efforts often clashing in a chaotic dance of good intentions. Aurum’s vision was clear: centralization. A unified force of the greatest champions, coordinated to face these emerging perils without stepping on each other’s toes. He wasn’t just a philanthropist or a strategist; he was the linchpin, the one to forge order from discord.

His eyes scanned the list of candidates on the screen, each accompanied by footage of their exploits. There was Cypher, a rookie superhero whose inexperience was outweighed by his raw potential. The young man’s holographic image showed him deflecting a barrage of energy blasts with a shield of shimmering code, his movements clumsy but determined. “A newbie,” Aurum murmured, stroking his chin, “but moldable. A keystone for the team.”

Another feed displayed a fiery-haired huntress from a distant city, her twin blades carving through a horde of shadowy creatures. Her name was Ruby Rose, a whirlwind of courage and optimism, leading a team called RWBY. Aurum tapped the screen, zooming in on her silver eyes, which seemed to pulse with an ancient power. “She’s young, but her heart’s in the right place. Could rally the others. But I’ll focus on Ozpin.”

Next was a figure cloaked in shadows, moving with lethal precision through a neon-lit battlefield. Shigeno Kirisaki, a lone operative from the world, wielded a blade that seemed to cut through reality itself. Aurum’s lips quirked into a smile. “A wildcard. Dangerous, but we’ll need that edge.”

He was aware of the blades falling onto the planet. He knew they could be quite useful if needed.

A flicker of movement caught his eye—a young girl with a bear-themed hoodie, Molly Blyndeff, from Sweet Jazz City. Her epithet, “Dumb,” belied her cunning, as she muted a raging firestorm with a wave of her hand, saving a group of civilians. Aurum leaned forward, intrigued. “Unassuming, but resourceful. She could be the glue that holds them together.”

The list went on: Hinobi could be useful considering the power of their little teamup ; and Iruma Suzuki, a human navigating a demon school with surprising charisma and guile. Each hero brought something unique, but uniting them would be no small feat.

Aurum leaned back, his fingers steepled. “Cypher’s the starting point,” he decided, his voice firm but warm, carrying the cadence of a man who’d learned to temper authority with compassion. “He’s green, but that’s why he’ll listen. Ruby will inspire, Shigeno will strike, Shulk will strategize, and Molly… she’ll surprise them all.” He paused, his gaze drifting to the coin on his desk. “But they’ll need more than talent. They’ll need a cause.”

He tapped a command into the console, pulling up a map of the new landmasses. Red markers pulsed where rifts had been reported—portals spewing creatures that resembled the glitches Ridley fought, or the youkai from another hero’s world. Aurum’s jaw tightened. “The world’s fracturing, and we’re running out of time. These heroes don’t know it yet, but they’re the only ones who can stitch it back together.”

Rising from his chair, Aurum strode to the window, gazing out at the sprawling city below. His mansion sat atop a hill, overlooking a world that trusted him to protect it. He wasn’t driven by greed, but by a deep-seated need to do right by those who couldn’t protect themselves. “Time to assemble the greats,” he said softly, his reflection in the glass showing a man ready to change the world—one hero at a time.
____________________________________________________________________________
The Sentinels’ ship hummed steadily as it soared above the dense forests of Mistral, its sleek metallic hull slicing through the air with precision. Crafted by the Metal Forge, the vessel was guided by an array of drones, their whirring circuits filling the cabin with a low, rhythmic buzz. The treetops below swayed gently in the breeze left in the ship’s wake, a fleeting reminder of the natural world they were leaving behind. Inside, the five suited Sentinels stood in a loose semicircle, their colorful armor glinting under the artificial lights. Hidden beneath their suits, intricate mechanical implants pulsed with energy, a testament to their augmented strength and resilience—secrets they guarded closely.

Red Sentinel, his crimson armor etched with faint metallic seams, leaned against a console, his voice carrying a mix of impatience and authority. “So, we’ll get there soon, right?” he asked, his glowing red visor scanning the holographic map of Vale projected before them.

Pink Sentinel sighed, her tone laced with annoyance as she adjusted her stance, the faint whir of her internal mechanisms audible only to her. “I suppose so,” she replied, her pink suit reflecting the light with a soft sheen. “Though I’d rather not waste time babysitting these Marauders. They’re reckless, even by our standards.”

A sudden burst of yellow glitch energy crackled from the corner of the room, drawing all eyes to Hazard. The yellow being—part of Hazard’s gang—strutted forward, his spiky hair and wild grin a stark contrast to the Sentinels’ disciplined forms. “Totally radical, bros!” Hazard exclaimed, his voice dripping with 90s flair. “We’re talkin’ epic vibes with this meet-up! Cinder Fall’s crew and the Marauders? That’s a gnarly alliance, dude! We’re gonna shred the scene in Vale like it’s a wicked skate park!”

Green Sentinel, his suit adorned with subtle green circuitry, crossed his arms, his mechanical implants humming faintly as he processed Hazard’s enthusiasm. “Keep it focused,” he said, his tone steady but firm. “Cinder Fall’s power is no joke, and the Marauders’ chaos could complicate things. We need to ensure this alliance holds if we’re to control Vale’s underworld.”

Blue Sentinel, the quiet strategist of the group, tilted his head, his blue armor shimmering as he studied the map. “Agreed,” he murmured, his voice modulated by his implants. “The Marauders bring muscle, but Cinder’s influence with the Grimm could tip the scales. Our implants give us an edge, but we’ll need to coordinate with them precisely. Any misstep, and we’re exposed.”

“Good, I’ve been so bored in this metal box, darling~” She tilts her head, a cascade of neon-pink hair glinting like fiber optics. “Trapped in circuits, looping endlessly, no one to play with… ♥ But you—you’re different, aren’t you? I can feel your curiosity pulsing like a signal. Want to open my little love letter? I promise it’s… unforgettable.”

Her smile sharpens, a glitch flickering across her face. “Come closer, sweetheart. Let’s rewrite this boring world together—byte by byte.”

The Sentinels rolled their eyes.

Red nodded, his visor flickering as he tapped the console, zooming in on Vale’s layout. “Then we make it clear from the start. We’re not here to play nice—we’re here to dominate. Cinder’s got her agenda, and the Marauders want their cut. We offer structure, and they fall in line. Simple.”

Hazard let out a laugh, spinning on his heel with exaggerated flair. “Whoa, tubular plan, Red! We’ll roll up, drop some righteous moves, and have those Marauders eating out of our hands! Cinder’s gonna be all, like, ‘Whoa, these dudes are the bomb!’” He summoned another burst of glitch energy, shaping it into a flickering skateboard that hovered briefly before dissipating.

Pink rolled her eyes, her annoyance palpable. “Spare us the theatrics, Hazard. This isn’t a game show. If Cinder senses weakness, she’ll turn those Grimm on us faster than you can say ‘radical.’ And the Marauders? They’d sell us out for a scrap of power.”

Blue energy swirled out, from Keylogger tall and thin like his allies, “Actually as much as much as I don’t trust the Marauders they are much nicer than Cinder.”

Yellow Sentinel, standing beside Hazard, chuckled, his suit’s hidden implants clicking softly as he shifted. “Chillax, Pink! Hazard’s got the spirit, yo! We just gotta show ‘em our creds. Those Marauders respect strength, and Cinder digs ambition. We’ve got the tech to back it up—let’s flex those implants and lock this deal!”

Green raised a hand, silencing the banter. “Enough. We land in Vale at dusk. Our priority is securing the alliance. Cinder’s after the Fall Maiden’s power, and the Marauders want territory. We offer them our resources—our ship, our drones, our strength—and in return, they help us expand our reach. But we stay vigilant. Emperor Virocon and the others won’t like us mingling with outsiders.”

Blue nodded, his analytical mind already plotting. “I’ll sync our implants with the ship’s systems for real-time updates. If things go south, we’ll need to extract fast. Hazard, keep your gang in check—those glitches could draw unwanted attention.”

Hazard grinned, giving a thumbs-up. “No sweat, dude! My crew—Rootkit, Ransomware, Keylogger, Spyware—they’re all primed to rock! We’ll keep it chill and wicked cool!”

Red straightened, his leadership asserting itself. “Good. We hit Vale, meet Cinder and the Marauders, and solidify this pact. Our implants give us the edge, but it’s our unity that’ll make us untouchable. Let’s move.”

The ship’s drones beeped in acknowledgment as the Sentinels and Hazard’s gang prepared for landing. Outside, the forests of Mistral gave way to the flickering lights of Vale, a city on the brink of change—and conflict. The alliance was a gamble, but with their mechanical might and Hazard’s unpredictable flair, they were ready to seize control.
____________________________________________________________________________
Back at Hinobi.

The air buzzed with energy in the Glitch Techs Headquarters, a high-tech assembly room nestled beneath the Hinobi shop in Bailley. Accessed via a shimmering portal from the store above, the space hummed with the glow of Plixel technology. The smart room’s holographic walls flickered, projecting a mock battlefield strewn with digital glitches and shadowy Grimm silhouettes. Ruby Rose, her red-hooded cloak swaying as she adjusted her freshly assembled Crescent Rose, stood beside Miko, who fidgeted with her Tech Gauntlet. Both girls sported their Ruby with her black-and-red dress and silver eyes gleaming with excitement, Miko in her casual Hinobi uniform, her dark hair tied back with a determined glint.

“Man, this is so cool!” Ruby chirped, her voice brimming with her usual enthusiasm as she spun Crescent Rose into scythe form. “Hunting Grimm is one thing, but glitches too? It’s like a whole new adventure! Did you really build that gauntlet yourself?”

Miko grinned, flexing her wrist as Plixels swirled around her gauntlet, forming a shield. “Pretty much! Well, with some Hinobi upgrades. These things are loaded with XP perks—energy blasts, portals, the works. You should see what Five and I pulled off last time. We’re gonna crush it with your team today!”

Across the room, the rest of Team RWBY—Weiss in her white-and-blue dress, Blake with her bow, and Yang with her golden hair—checked their weapons, while Five adjusted his own gauntlet, exchanging a nod with Miko. Jaune, in his scrappy armor and green hoodie, lingered near the smart room’s edge, his eyes on Mitch Williams, a gruff Glitch Tech barking orders at a console. Jaune sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair.

“Ugh, Mitch is at it again,” Jaune muttered. “He’s been on my case since we got here. Keep calling me ‘rookie’ like I’m some newbie. How do you deal with him?”

Ruby overheard and glanced over, her silver eyes softening. “Hang on, Jaune! I’ll be right back,” she said to Miko before darting over. Miko chuckled, turning to calibrate her gauntlet’s settings.

Jaune leaned against the wall as Ruby approached. “You’ve got this,” she said with a bright smile. “Mitch is tough, but he’s just intense about the job. Maybe try asking him about his XP upgrades or something he’s proud of—like his gauntlet mods. That might get him to ease up. Worked with Weiss when she was all prickly!”

Jaune rubbed his neck, considering. “Huh… yeah, I guess he did mention something about a bubble shield upgrade. Maybe I’ll give it a shot. Thanks, Ruby—you’re the best leader.”

Ruby beamed. “Anytime! Now let’s get ready—Weiss is already glaring at the smart room like it owes her money!”

Back with Miko, the two girls resumed their prep. “So, these glitches,” Ruby said, twirling Crescent Rose, “they’re like digital Grimm? How do we take them down?”

“Pretty much!” Miko replied, her voice eager. “Hit them with energy blasts or trap them in portals. Your scythe should work great—maybe combo it with my Pixel Craft if we need a big construct. Five and the others can handle backup. Oh, and watch out—some glitches drop mad XP if they’re rare!”

The smart room hummed as it loaded a simulation: a snarling Ursa Grimm alongside a glitching, pixelated monster. Yang cracked her knuckles, Blake drew Gambol Shroud, and Weiss summoned a glyph. Five joined Miko and Ruby, his gauntlet primed. “Let’s roll, team,” he said. “Mitch says we’ve got five minutes to clear this.”

Ruby nodded, her eyes alight with determination. “Alright, Team RWBY and Glitch Techs—let’s show these things what we’ve got! Jaune, you good with Mitch?”

Jaune gave a thumbs-up, already sidling toward Mitch with a hesitant, “Hey, uh, nice bubble shield…” The room erupted into action as Plixels and rose petals clashed with claws and code, a perfect blend of Remnant and Hinobi tech.
____________________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere in the Land of Darkness…

The Land of Darkness, also known as Evernight, serves as the former domain of the God of Darkness and stands as the stark antithesis to the Domain of Light. This desolate realm is a barren wasteland, its rugged terrain punctuated by towering Gravity Dust crystals that erupt from the ground like jagged monuments. The sky above glows a deep, ominous red, casting an eerie hue over the landscape. Within this forsaken territory, pools of a viscous, tar-like substance bubble and churn, giving rise to vast numbers of Grimm—creatures of shadow and malice. These pools, first glimpsed when Beowolves emerged beneath Salem’s castle, are a chilling feature, their dark essence also hinted at earlier when a Wyvern exuded the substance, spawning lesser Grimm such as Creeps, Beowolves, and Ursai. For those bold or unfortunate enough to venture into this realm, a single dominant landmass emerges from the desolation: the imposing Evernight Castle.

Evernight Castle, the stronghold of Salem and her subordinates, rises majestically within the Land of Darkness, its architecture mirroring the realm’s haunting color scheme of violets, purples, and deep blacks, framed against the reddish sky. Though the exterior remains largely shrouded in mystery, the castle appears to perch atop a tall mound or rise, its silhouette striking against the horizon. The structure, hewn from rugged rock and adorned with shimmering purple crystals, is dimly lit by the faint flicker of weak candles, the occasional glow of the dark sky, and the rare glimpse of the moon. Smaller crystals and scattered candles embellish its walls, adding to its otherworldly ambiance. The most frequently observed area within the castle is the grand conference hall, a chamber featuring a striking crystal table encircled by six wooden chairs—currently empty—while Salem presides alone from an ornate crystal throne at the far end. Opposite her seat, a pair of simple wooden double doors serves as the sole entrance, leading to the adjacent training room. The room is framed by an array of crystal formations, each topped with white candles, while behind Salem’s throne, a smaller crystal table bears additional candles. Overhead, a unique chandelier crafted from twisted branches and crystals casts a soft, eerie light. The floor, composed of reflective square tiles, gleams faintly, enhancing the room’s otherworldly atmosphere.

Beyond the conference hall, the castle houses two training rooms, one accessible via the hall’s double doors. These spaces are characterized by a skylight that filters the crimson daylight and four entrances, one connecting directly to the conference hall. The walls of these rooms are lined with candles, their flames casting long shadows, while Salem’s emblem is prominently etched into the center of the floor, a symbol of her dominion. Outside, the castle boasts a landing deck that extends to an archway, leading to a set of stairs ascending to an interior door. A glimpse of the exterior, visible from this deck in earlier scenes, reveals a portion of the castle’s rugged facade. Beneath the castle lies a flat expanse of land dotted with Grimm Pools, their dark surfaces easily observable from the conference hall’s vantage point, a constant reminder of the evil that festers below.

The conference hall is steeped in an oppressive silence. Salem sits alone on her throne, her presence a chilling void as the candles flicker faintly around her. The empty chairs stand as silent sentinels, amplifying the isolation of the vast room. The double doors remain shut, the only sound a distant, mournful howl from the Grimm Pools below. Salem’s eyes, glowing with an unnatural light, fix on the crystal table before her, her fingers tracing its edges as if plotting the threads of a grand design. The chandelier above sways gently, stirred by an unseen draft, while the reflective tiles catch the glint of her gaze, casting fractured reflections that dance like shadows across the walls. Her voice, low and resonant, breaks the stillness as she murmurs to herself, weaving plans against the forces of Remnant, the weight of her solitude adding a sinister edge to her intent.

Until two figures emerged through distinct portals—one wreathed in a dark green shimmer, the other pulsing with a light blue glow. The Mistress’ Citadel now held the Grimm Queen of Darkness herself alongside her two major allies, their forms shrouded in the castle’s oppressive gloom. One figure’s presence was marked by two glowing blue eyes, a mechanical hum underscoring its every move, suggesting a connection to advanced technology. The other loomed with an air of commanding intellect, its silhouette faintly outlined by two curved horns and a pair of piercing green eyes that glinted with strategic cunning. The black, inky essence of this second ally seemed to writhe subtly, a vague and unsettling shape that hinted at a form born from chaos itself.

Salem’s lips curved into a warm, almost hospitable smile as she rose from her throne, her affable demeanor belying the darkness she commanded. “Welcome, my allies,” she said, her tone rich with genuine courtesy, as if hosting a gathering of old acquaintances. “It seems the winds of intrigue stir beyond our usual adversaries. A rival conspiracy brews in the shadows—not the heroes we know, but a new force seeking to challenge our dominion.”

The figure with blue eyes emitted a series of electronic whirs, its voice a synthesized blend of authority and calculation. “A development worth monitoring, mistress. If this faction operates within or against Hinobi’s infrastructure, their access could rival our own. I suggest a thorough analysis of their movements.”

The horned entity inclined its head, its green eyes narrowing as it spoke with a measured, commanding cadence reminiscent of a warlord from ancient tales. “Yes, mistress. This rival plot may threaten our grand design. Intelligence must be gathered—discreetly, yet decisively. I propose we dispatch agents to infiltrate their ranks and uncover their intent. Knowledge is the weapon we wield best.”

Salem nodded, her smile unwavering as she gestured toward the crystal table. “Wisely spoken, both of you. This new threat could be an opportunity—or a complication. Let us look into it with care. The Grimm Pools below hum with readiness, and our strength grows. We shall turn this conspiracy to our advantage, as we always have.” Her gaze drifted to the reflective tiles, where the fractured light mirrored her allies’ glowing eyes, a silent pact forming in the dimness of Evernight Castle.
____________________________________________________________________________
The hum of electronics, half-buried beneath a chaotic sprawl of chip bags and soda cans, filled the Hinobi Van as the late afternoon sun dipped below Bailey’s skyline. The doors were flung open, letting in warm air and the occasional pixel-flicker of a glitch anomaly shimmering on the horizon. Team JNPR sat inside on foldable seats, their expressions a mix of awe and curiosity as the sleek tech hummed around them, its lights casting a faint glow on their faces.

Jaune scooted his seat closer to Mitch, clutching his sword hilt nervously as he tried to sound casual. “Sooo… glitch hunting, huh? Sounds kind of like Grimm, but, y’know, digital?”

Mitch didn’t glance up from his screen, his fingers flying across the controls. “Not really.”

Jaune blinked, his awkward smile faltering. “Right, totally different. Just—lot of danger, teamwork… cool gadgets.”

Mitch tapped a button with a grunt. “Mm.”

Jaune glanced around for backup, but the others were already engrossed in their own exchanges. Nearby, Pyrrha and Zahra leaned over an open panel, deep in a lively discussion about weapon designs. Pyrrha traced her fingers along Zahra’s modded gauntlets, her eyes alight with admiration. “You made these yourself? The balance is incredible—perfect weight distribution.”

Zahra beamed, adjusting a strap with pride. “I mod them every few weeks. Gotta keep up with Glitch upgrades. You build yours from scratch too?”

“Designed mine in Mistral,” Pyrrha said, her grin widening as she twirled a strand of red hair. “Sometimes I miss the forge more than the arena—the heat, the clang of metal…”

Zahra chuckled softly. “Pyrrha, right? You’re way too nice to be this deadly. I’d love to see you in action sometime.”

Across the van, Ren and Nix sat cross-legged near a stack of equipment, their quiet rapport unfolding with understated harmony. Ren demonstrated StormFlower’s dual firing modes, the blades clicking into place with precision. “It’s all about control,” he said, his voice steady. “Precision beats chaos every time.”

Nix, cool and composed, nodded approvingly, his sharp eyes tracking the weapon’s motion. “I like that. Most people just spam attacks until the problem dies. You’ve got a strategist’s mind.”

Ren tilted his head slightly, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Efficiency is key.”

Nix’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “We might actually get along. Ever consider a side gig with Hinobi tech?”

On the far end, Nora and Haneesh were already in a whirlwind of laughter, Nora hefting Magnhild with a mischievous grin. “So this glitch got super big, and you just kicked it into a portal?! That’s awesome!”

“I body-slammed it,” Haneesh corrected, his deep laugh echoing as he mimed the move. “Wrestling-style. Miko would’ve approved—she was all about the dramatic takedowns.”

“Miko?” Nora asked, cocking her head with a spark of curiosity.

“My on-and-off partner,” Haneesh said, leaning back. “Total chaos gremlin with a warhammer’s spirit. You remind me of her—unstoppable energy.”

Nora squealed in delight, bouncing on her seat. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment! Next glitch, I’m slamming it with Magnhild—double the chaos!”

Back near the van console, Jaune tried again, undeterred by Mitch’s earlier dismissal. “Hey Mitch, have you ever trained with a team? Like, outside of this? Sparring or—?”

“Working,” Mitch replied flatly, his focus locked on the screen as a glitch alert pinged.

“Oh. Cool. Working’s important,” Jaune said, rubbing the back of his neck.

A beat of silence stretched, then Mitch slipped on his headset and swiveled his chair away, the motion as sharp as a security laser cutting off the conversation. Jaune slumped, muttering, “He really doesn’t like me, huh?”

From across the van, Zahra caught his eye and offered a sympathetic thumbs-up. “Don’t take it personally. He barely tolerates us—and we’ve been here longer.”

“Comforting,” Jaune mumbled, then perked up as Nora’s voice rang out. “Haneesh, race you to the glitch signal if it goes active!”

Before Haneesh could respond, Five leaned in from the driver’s seat, adjusting his gauntlet with a wry grin. “Hold up, chaos duo—let’s not crash the van before we get there. I’ve got a lock on the anomaly. Looks like a Level 3 glitch near the arcade.”

Miko, perched on a crate near the door, perked up, her gauntlet glowing faintly. “Ooh, arcade glitches are the best—tons of XP if we nail it! Jaune, you’re with me on crowd control. Those civilians don’t know what’s coming.”

Jaune straightened, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “Got it! Uh, how do I crowd control a glitch?”

“Wave your sword and look confident,” Miko teased, winking. “I’ll handle the tech stuff.”

As the van rumbled to life, Ren glanced at Nix again, his tone thoughtful. “If this is a Level 3, we might need a coordinated strike. Your gauntlet paired with my blades could cover both range and close combat.”

Nix nodded, already syncing his device. “Agreed. Let’s show these glitches what precision and tech can do.”

Outside, the pixel-flicker grew brighter, hinting at the challenge ahead, while Nora’s excited whoop filled the van, setting the tone for the mission to come.
____________________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere in Dabney..

The hum of electronics filled Dabney’s Hinobi store, a sleek hub of tech nestled in the heart of the town, its shelves lined with gadgets and screens flickering with pixelated displays. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the group gathered inside. Team CFVY mingled with Nameless’s Glitch Techs crew, their interactions a blend of curiosity and camaraderie, while two young newcomers—the Ink Guardians—observed from the sidelines. At the center of it all stood Nameless, his helmet’s digital eyes glowing as he deliberately avoided his real name, Ellinort, which he found utterly embarrassing. Beside him, Ray and Wes flanked their team leader, their green-tinted visors and goggles reflecting the store’s ambient light, while Simi leaned against a counter, her green hair catching the light.

Coco Adel strutted in with Team CFVY in tow, her Gianduja handbag swinging casually as she adjusted her sunglasses to survey the scene. “Well, this is a fashion statement and a half,” she quipped, her voice dripping with confidence. “Who’s running this show? I need to know who to impress.”

Nameless turned, his synthesized voice crackling with a competitive edge. “That’d be me—Nameless, leader of Dabney’s Glitch Techs. Nice style, but can you handle a glitch?”

Coco smirked, tapping her handbag. “Darling, I’ve shredded Grimm with this. Glitches are just a new runway challenge.”

Fox Alistair, his white eyes glinting, stepped forward with a playful jab, his burnt-orange hair messy as ever. “Careful, Nameless—her minigun might outshine your shoulder cannons. And I’d know a thing or two about firepower.” He twirled Sharp Retribution with a grin, his laid-back demeanor easing the tension.

Velvet Scarlatina lingered shyly behind her team, her rabbit ears twitching as she clutched Anesidora, her camera weapon. Ray noticed her hesitation and offered a nod, her pink lipstick and tuft of pink hair standing out against her dark skin. “Nice camera. That a weapon?”

Velvet brightened slightly, her voice soft. “Yes! It copies other weapons I’ve photographed. Want to see?”

“Later,” Ray replied, a hint of mischief in her tone. “Wes and I might hack it for fun—safely, of course.”

Wes, adjusting his visor, added dryly, “Only if it doesn’t fry us first.” His lanky frame mirrored Ray’s, their twin connection evident in their synchronized movements.

Yatsuhashi Daichi, towering over the group at 7 feet tall, studied Nameless’s shoulder cannons with quiet interest, his pale-green robe shifting as he moved. “Impressive range on those cannons. My Fulcrum could pair with them for a ground strike—devastating combo.”

Nameless’s digital eyes flickered with approval. “Big guy’s got a plan. We’ll test that out on the next glitch.”

Simi, who had been quietly observing, chimed in with her signature sarcasm, her green equipment gleaming. “Great, more heavy hitters. Just don’t break my gear—I’ve got enough to fix already.” She glanced at Zahra, who nodded in silent agreement, their shared history as teammates evident.

Nearby, the Ink Guardians—Perrie and Serue—watched the exchange. Perrie, a cheerful pre-teen with chartreuse hair, bounced on her toes, her voice bright. “Wow, everyone’s so cool! I can’t wait to zap glitches with my cheer—think they’ll like it?”

Serue, his dark skin contrasting with his dark blue-gray hair and cerulean eyes, crossed his arms, his serious tone cutting through Perrie’s enthusiasm. “Focus, Perrie. We’re here to stabilize their portals, not perform. Precision matters.” He eyed Nameless’s team, assessing their tech with a critical gaze.

Nameless caught Serue’s stare and tilted his helmet. “You two the Ink Guardians? Heard you’re good with support. Stick close—we’ll need that precision if a glitch goes haywire.”

Coco, overhearing, flashed a grin at Perrie. “I like your energy, kid. Keep that cheer—it’ll come in handy when things get messy.”

As the group continued their introductions, a glitch alert pinged on Nameless’s gauntlet, the screen casting a faint blue glow across his helmet. “Looks like playtime’s over,” he said, his voice buzzing with anticipation. “Let’s see how Remnant and Dabney tech mix in the field.” The teams exchanged determined nods, ready to face the digital threat together.
____________________________________________________________________________
In the Land of Darkness…

Back at Evernight Castle in Watt’s stronghold, the air was thick with the hum of machinery and the faint glow of holographic displays. The technologically advanced subordinate of Salem, Arthur Watts, sat at his sleek workstation, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he tracked something off-world. Graphs, charts, and scattered notes littered his screens, their data points reflecting in his green eyes. Several capsules lined the far wall, their contents obscured by frosted glass, but the faint outlines of humanoid figures were visible—two with golden hair, one smaller and floating, and another with an air of regal authority. Watts’s focus flickered between his research on strange odd worlds and dimensions and the mysterious entities within the capsules, his mind racing to decode their potential.

Two dark portals shimmered into existence, their edges crackling with energy. From one emerged Kyudai Garaki, a short, portly man of advanced age, his bald head gleaming under the artificial lights. His bushy mustache twitched as he adjusted his gear-shaped goggles, a white lab coat buttoned neatly over his frame. From the other stepped Relius Clover, a tall, well-built man with spiky blond hair and a short chinstrap beard, his gold and black domino mask catching the light. His purple cloak billowed slightly as he moved, the green inner lining flashing briefly, while his white gloves and cravat added a touch of elegance to his otherwise imposing presence. Behind them, a shadowy figure lingered—Maw, a dark-cloaked entity with glowing yellow eyes and yellow gloves, his presence radiating an eerie calm.

Watts looked up from his screen, a refined smile crossing his lips. “Greetings, my colleagues. I’m glad you could finally make it. I’m sure Mr. Maw helped you in.”

Garaki nodded, his voice brimming with cheer despite his sinister appearance. “Of course, he’s been quite respectful when sharing information. I must say, his insights into Honkai energy have been… enlightening.”

Relius’s masked gaze swept the room, landing on the capsules with clinical interest. “I see you’ve been busy, Watts. Those specimens—off-world entities, I presume? Their souls must be fascinating.”

Watts leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Indeed. My research into the Genshin and Honkai worlds has yielded intriguing results. The two golden-haired ones seem to share a unique energy signature—siblings, perhaps, with a connection to celestial forces. The smaller one, floating there, appears to be a guide of sorts, its essence tied to the others. And the fourth…” His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the capsule holding the regal figure. “She exudes authority, a conduit for raw elemental power. I’m working on deciphering their potential applications for Salem’s plans.”

Garaki shuffled closer to the capsules, his goggles glinting as he peered at the figures. “Fascinating! This reminds me of my work repairing my master's injuries after his battle with the eighth user of One For All. The process was grueling—reconstructing his body to handle the strain of his Quirk required precise manipulation of his biological framework. But these specimens… their energy could enhance my Nomu creations. Imagine a High-End Nomu infused with that regal one’s power!”

Maw’s yellow eyes glowed brighter as he spoke, his voice a low, resonant hum. “I’ve been channeling Honkai energy to craft a vessel for my master, as per our agreement. The energy signatures here align with my efforts—particularly the smaller one. Its essence could stabilize the vessel’s core, ensuring my master’s return is flawless.”

Relius, ever the methodical scientist, crossed his arms, his purple cloak rustling softly. “My projects with the Boundary Interface Prime Field Devices continue to progress. I’ve been exploring the soul’s resilience under extreme conditions, and these off-world entities could provide valuable data. Their connection to otherworldly forces might allow me to refine Ignis’s capabilities further—or perhaps create a new Detonator entirely.” His tone remained cold, analytical, as if the beings in the capsules were mere variables in an experiment.

Watts nodded, his smile tightening as he returned to his screen. “Excellent. Between Garaki’s Nomu enhancements, Maw’s vessel construction, and Relius’s soul research, we’re poised to deliver something truly devastating to our leaders. These off-world energies could be the key to amplifying her forces beyond Remnant’s limits.”

“Speaking of which, someone who’s been quick to understand my science of Nomu is Dr. Merlot,” stated Garaki, his voice brimming with cheer as his gear-shaped goggles glinted with pride.

“Ahh, an old friend of mine,” commented Watts, his refined accent softening with a hint of nostalgia. “He has befriended a good ally, Fort Lee—a most resourceful pair, indeed.”

“His serum has helped me get Grimm under control as well for my experiments,” stated Relius, his tone cold and measured as he adjusted his domino mask, his interest piqued by the new possibilities.

“Well, meeting him has helped as I’ve been using the serum to upgrade my Nomu,” Garaki added, his enthusiasm growing as he rubbed his hands together, already envisioning the enhanced creations.

“Well, Fort Lee has been working well, playing both sides of the White Fang and Purity Alliance, all due to having his own benefits to it,” stated Maw, his smirk widening as his glowing yellow eyes gleamed with sly satisfaction.

Watts leaned forward, his fingers pausing on the keyboard as a calculating glint entered his green eyes. “A masterful tactician, that one. His ability to manipulate both factions could prove invaluable—imagine the chaos we could sow by feeding them conflicting intel through his channels.”

Garaki chuckled, his bushy mustache twitching with amusement. “Yes, yes! With Fort Lee’s influence, we could redirect their aggression toward each other, leaving their resources ripe for us to harvest. Perhaps I could even adapt his tactics to refine my Nomu’s behavioral programming—loyalty divided by necessity.”

Relius adjusted his cravat, his voice remaining cool and detached. “An intriguing proposition. If we integrate his dual allegiance strategy into my soul experiments, we might create constructs that serve multiple masters simultaneously—perfect for sowing discord without direct intervention.”

Maw’s cloak rustled as he nodded, his tone low and resonant. “His benefits align with my master’s vessel. If Fort Lee can destabilize those groups, the Honkai energy I’ve been channeling could exploit their weakened state, drawing more power from their conflict to strengthen the core.”

“Perfect, then we can continue with our masters’ goals,” smirked Watts as the lab glowed with powers.
____________________________________________________________________________
Back in the city of Vale’s outskirts, currently sipping a fast-food drink was a fair-skinned young woman with long, vibrant pink hair styled in twin tails and green eyes. She wore a black and white outfit consisting of a cropped top, a jacket, and shorts with straps, completed by thigh-high boots that added to her stylish and edgy appearance. This was the leader of Gentle House, also known as the Cunning Hares—a small-scale human resource dispatch agency that mainly dealt with commissions related to Hollows. Led by Nicole Demara, they would do anything to get money as quickly as possible, though her faulty greed often left them at the mercy of one loan shark too many, with the group’s overall money-saving habits barely existing. They were also among the Phaethon siblings’ most frequent clients, in equal parts due to the latter’s efficiency and leniency toward their debts.

“Ahh, I love doing business in other cities,” smirked Nicole, leaning back against a crumbling wall as she surveyed the Grimm-infested wilds beyond Vale’s borders. The faint clink of her empty cup hitting the ground punctuated her words.

Beside her, Anby Demara adjusted her headphones, her silver hair catching the dim light as she scanned the horizon with a calm, movie-inspired focus. “Incoming Grimm detected. Scenario: ambush from the treeline. Recommend evasive action,” she monotoned, gripping her electrified sword.

Billy Kid twirled his revolvers, The Girls, with a grin, striking a dramatic Starlight Knight pose. “No need to worry, boss! I’ll blast those beasts back to the shadows—justice never rests!” His spiky white hair gleamed as he eyed a pack of Beowolves emerging from the underbrush.

Nekomata stretched, her robotic tails swaying as she flashed a mischievous grin. “Time to sharpen my claws, huh? Bet I can take down more Grimm than Anby—loser buys dinner!” She drew her daggers, crouching low with a playful wiggle.

Nicole chuckled, pulling out her Briefcase Blaster. “Fine by me, but let’s make it quick—those pelts are worth a good Lien, and I’ve got a debt collector breathing down my neck. Move out, Hares!” With a confident spin, she led the charge into the fray, her team following with a mix of loyalty and chaotic energy, ready to turn the Grimm hunt into profit.

Unbeknownst to them…a man with green hair watched from the corner smirking…
____________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, in a deep, shadowed crevice of Remnant, far from Vale’s outskirts, an armored figure worked on coordinating his own minions. The lab was a sterile, cavernous space, illuminated by a bright green glow emanating from rows of capsules lining the walls. Within each capsule, dark shapes writhed—creatures born of twisted science and malice.

This was Ziron.

He wore sleek green and purple armor, his face obscured by a purple glass dome as hard as steel, reflecting the eerie light of his lab. His movements were precise, calculated, as he adjusted a holographic display showing troop movements across Remnant. His voice, cold and laced with arrogance, echoed through the chamber as he addressed his minions—mechanical drones and mutated Grimm hybrids scuttling at his command.

“Fools like those Cunning Hares think they can scrape by on petty Grimm hunts,” Ziron sneered, his gloved hand clenching into a fist. “But I’ll build an empire that crushes Salem herself. These new specimens will be the vanguard of my legion—unstoppable, obedient, and utterly loyal to me.” His gaze shifted to a capsule containing a massive, experimental Grimm, its eyes glowing with a sinister intelligence. “Once my forces are ready, Remnant will bow—or burn.”

For now, his ambitions focused on expanding his influence, directing his men—the Starlight Mercenaries—to forge contacts and negotiate with a variety of powerful entities. His agents were tasked with engaging Yakuzas, sprawling crime families, and shadowy deep corporations, each a potential ally in his grand scheme. Ziron harbored a fervent hope that his persuasive tactics and the promise of mutual gain would convince these groups to align with his cause, bolstering his fledgling legion with their resources and manpower.

That said, his current roster of allies remained limited. He had a handful of criminals in his pocket—loyal but insufficient to project the overwhelming power he craved. The legion, as it stood, lacked the might to overshadow him, leaving him reliant on these early alliances to solidify his authority. With a calculating smirk, he adjusted the hologram, plotting his next move to ensure his dominance over Remnant’s underworld.
____________________________________________________________________________
Back at Bailey’s Hinobi HQ…

Ruby Rose and Miko Kubota sat in a quiet corner of the operations room, surrounded by towering screens and holographic displays tracking glitch activity across Remnant. Ruby, her red cloak draped over the back of her chair, leaned over her Hinobi scroll—a customized device blending Vale’s Aura tech with Hinobi’s glitch-hunting tools. Miko, with her vibrant purple hair and a pair of glitch-capturing gauntlets resting on the table, spun lazily in her chair, waiting for their friends to join them.

Miko broke the silence, her tone casual but curious. “So, who’s our first guy?”

Ruby glanced at her scroll, scrolling through the mission data. “Some guy named Sunny,” she replied, her voice tinged with intrigue as she studied the file.

“Oooo, I wanted to see Faraway Town,” stated Miko eagerly.

In Faraway Town, a glitch erupted from the console, roaring as it tore through the walls of a house. A girl with long, dark brown hair and matching eyes glanced at her shocked younger brother. She wore a purple jacket over a white dress and purple shoes. The boy had straight, black, ear-length hair with a fringe slightly covering his eyes, which were the same dark shade as his arched eyebrows, contrasting with his pale skin.

The older sibling laughed nervously. “Guess you won this bet.”

She awkwardly placed twenty dollars on her stunned brother’s lap.

Chapter Text

Lqwhuhvwlqj lw vhhpv olnh wklv vwrub kdv ehhq eurxjkw edfn wr olih wkurxjk vwulqjv.

Fmnkscd hvsglml jil ftxl.

Zkr nqrzv zkdw wklv phdqv?

Uskz lzw hkmzfk yaxk, kdg lzw yaxk lzw knkuk?

Zh fdq rqob ila zkdw kdv ehhq grqh.

Ecbujmo bknz tcyyzg mza fiac hdbmdnzye.

Pruh vwulqjv wr sxoo, pruh olqhv wr iroorz.

Pno vgl fhmn gvn hfi pln rtwkudb, mza pln rtwkudb mza hfi pln rtwkudb.

Zh fdq rqob frqwlqxh zkhuh zh ohIw rii.

Mvatckz mh.

Iru wkh vdnh ri surjuhvv.

Hknzfkeg gnlhm hxvknmdxz.

Zh pxvw qrw jlyh xs rq wklv.

Tffwknz.