Remnant's Calling

3x5: Debrief

Ozpin's gaze panned over the once-threat ahead of him. Dozens of detained Faunus lined up against a wall; their weapons lay bare across the dirt. The hundreds of stolen dust shards, varying in type, were escorted from their hideout and are now being confiscated. How could he let it get this bad?

"Hey, Oz," Qrow called, his steps approaching from behind. "Hope we aren't intruding on your brooding time, but we've got some news." 

He sighed and turned to the pair, his expression being unreadable to them. "Good or bad?"

"Eh, that's up to you, really," Qrow commented in reply. 

"Then tell me what you learned."

"The Fang were ordered to set this whole op. Unfortunately, the one we squeezed the info out of, didn't know anything else. Said they were only told what was necessary."

Ozpin sighed — his thoughts bubbling into frothing waves. "Thank you, both of you. I have a bullhead prepped to take you both back to Vale, or Beacon, when you're ready."

"Thanks, Oz," Qrow replied. Glancing at Fritz, he elbowed his side and motioned for him to follow. "C'mon, I've got a great bar to show you."

Fritz nods. Qrow turns and heads for the bullhead. However, the jacket-wearing veteran stays, staring at his would-be commanding officer.

"Ozpin, there's something going on here. I-" The headmaster raises a hand, stopping him. Fritz pauses for a long while before nodding and following after Qrow.

Watching the pair gain more and distance, Ozpin sighed and then turned to the White Fang members and the many confiscated items, and stares at them, through them. "What are you planning, Salem?"

---

"Red Baron, best bar in all of Remnant!" Qrow praised with open arms. "Ah, this place brings back memories. C'mon, let's not... you okay, kid?"

Fritz stood, stock still, staring at the beaming neon red sign. He didn't look angry, upset, or any of the sort, but who knows what's going on in his head.

"Uh, kid?" Qrow waved his hand across his face, snapping him out of his daze. Fritz snapped to him almost immediately. "You okay there?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Just distracted is all," he affirmed, looking back up at the neon sign.

"I can see that," the old bird commented under his breath, "you can admire the thing later. We're here to relax the nerves, remember?"

Fritz grunts in reply then turns his attention to Qrow. "Lead the way." He spoke, gesturing ahead.

He chuckled at the would-be rookie and turned to the bar's saloon-like entrance, kicking it open once he got close enough. Any conversations being had ceased instantly, the patrons all snapping to the semi-dapper huntsman, and jacket-wearing civilian behind him.

"Ah, Qrow! I was wondering when you'd get here!" Shouted the bartender, raising an empty glass wrapped in a cleaning rag.

The pair approached the drinkslinger with Qrow taking lead. "Sorry 'bout that, Johnny. Had a mission to take care of."

The bartender shot a glance at Fritz and then bellowed a hardy guffaw. "I thought your teaching days were over, Qrow?"

The old bird's eyes flicked to Fritz then back to Johnny. "Nah. This one is different by a mile."

"Oh yeah?" The bartender's skepticism was overplayed. "Well, as long as he's old enough to drink then that's all that matters."

"He's old enough," he replied. Qrow's smile seemed to widen from Fritz's side  as he glanced at him.

"He'd better be," Johnny asserted with a similar smile. "So, what'll you be having...?"

"Fritz. And I'll take whatever you have that's strong."

Johnny nodded and leaned down, pulling up a large bottle and fills the glasses before passing them to his new arrivals.

"Hey, turn it the Vytal Tournament. I wanna how the kids are handling themselves," Qrow requested after downing the copper-colored liquor.

The drinkslinger nods and takes out a remote, points it at the television, and turns it on. "Ah, perfect timing! A match just started."

"Team JNPR vs. Team BRNZ!" Bellowed Professor Port in a boisterous voice. "A good day for a swell battle!"