"So how are things, Branwen?"

"Could be better," he replied as he sank into the chair across from the mobster. "On a job again. How's the leg?"

The mobster shrugged. "Not as bad as it was when I got out of Atlas."

Qrow shrugged. "Been four years."

The two aquatics sat across from one another in brooding silence. A tension could be observed between the two, as they seemed to be familiar with each other, but not by friendly means, but Augustus had no clue as to why. Meanwhile, the Colonel stood to the side, hat in his hands. He was inspecting the room with a casual eye, trying to be as inconspicuous as an armed mercenary could be.

Is that what I am now? Some two bit hired gun? He thought.

Despite his best efforts to the contrary, The Colonel had not remained inconspicuous enough. "So what's your story, big guy?"

Augustus mulled it over in his head for a second. He had put some thought into how he would respond to this question when it inevitable came. Although, since he had only been here for two days, and had been fairly preoccupied taking stock of his situation, he hadn't come up with a lot of good options.

"I'm a recently unemployed soldier."

Torchwick seemed to be expecting this answer, and responded with as much. "Well, I was expecting that or a raider."

Augustus crossed his arms, and gestured to his Huntsman companion. "Yep. It's what he said, too."

"The camo, right?" Qrow chimed in.

"Mmhm," Roman hummed an affirmative. "Like some of those unsavory fiends in the Mistral wilderness."

Qrow huffed. "Little backwards for you to call someone fiendish don't you think?"

Roman gave a cocky smirk as he leaned back in his chair. "Oh come now, Qrow. Must we be hostile to each other?"

The Huntsmen gave a long sigh of frustration before changing to the subject. "You got the location of the girl or not?"

The desire to leave was beginning to show on his face. Augustus just barely held back an amused grin. The passive-aggressive tone between these two was very well hidden. Really can't help but wonder what happened between these two.

Roman silently sat for a moment, an amused smirk on full display to show how pleased he was with getting under the Huntsman's skin. "As a matter of fact, I do. But I have to tell you, she seems to have a few friends of a rather... unpleasant disposition."

"That's why he's here," Qrow said with a jerk of his head towards the militiaman in the corner. "So I'll ask again, where is she?"

Roman held up his hands, the grin still on his face. "Alright, if you insist, I know you can handle yourself. Just east of Rail Station 9, Graycast Industrial Plant. Wearhouse 2. Last I was told, she was waiting in the foreman's office on the third floor. But there is one thing..."

"Yeah?"

"I heard she was a Huntress. Is that true?"

Qrow sat up a little more in his chair. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Roman's smirk grew into a toothy, ear-to-ear grin. "That wasn't a denial."

The two men's attention was pulled from one another when the third man in the room cleared his throat. Roman's face went blank when he looked to the militiaman, while Qrow was clearly unamused. The Colonel decided to chime in with, "well, it wasn't a confirmation either." A solid, soundless beat followed for a bout five seconds before, "to be fair."

Roman's face was now less pleased. "If she's a Huntress, I guess she wouldn't need another Huntsman and a mercenary to... retrieve her."

Qrow sighed and stood up. "Alright Cap, lets get out of here. We got a jo to finish."

"Sounds good."

Qrow and Augustus began making their way out of the room. Roman stood to show the two guests out, following the two to the door. Once the trio had made it to the door, he stuck his hand out to the Colonel. "Pleasure to have made your acquaintance, sir. However, I don't believe I got your name."

The militiaman looked at the hand for a second before looking the shewed businessman in the eye with a mirrored smirk of his own. "Igualmente, señor. Hope we meet again under more friendly conditions." Before Roman could respond, the Colonel put a hand on his shoulder and pointed at the mobster, his face lighting up with a sudden thought. "Deberíamos ir a beber alguna vez, ese." He then proceeded into the hallway.

Roman gaped at the vacant space left by the man, before shrugging off his confusion and turning to Qrow. "Well, Qrow, I guess this is where we part ways again."

"Hope we never meet again, Torch."

Roman offered his had, with all the charm of crocodile. "Come on now, we had some good times, right? No need for these hostilities."

Qrow sighed, shook the mans hand, and walked out with a simple "goodbye, Roman."

Qrow and Augustus walked into the hallway, and made their way out of the building. Once outside, the pair both took a moment to have drink. As Qrow capped his flask, he pulled out his Scroll. "Alright," he said as he walked into the alleyway next to the motel. "I need to make a call for a sec. Don't get into any fights."

"Copy."

Augustus pulled out a pair of what looed like safety glasses. A holdover from his IMC days, the glasses were part of an IMC grunt's combat kit. Part of the Strategic and Tactical Awareness Kit, the glasses provided minor shrapnel protection, but their primary function was to provide a basic HUD, and could be modified to uplink with a Smart Pistol.

"Alright, lets go." Qrow walked out, putting his Scroll away. He seemed a little flustered, but it was hard to tell for sure, considering his usual expression. Nevertheless, the Colonel put his glasses away and shrugged.

"Lead the way."


Graycast Industrial Plant

The two men were sitting on the ledge of a small two story building just outside the gate of the Plant. Qrow was looking through a pair of binoculars, counting the guards on patrol, while the Colonel was finally inquiring about the situation he had volunteered to put himself in.

"So I gather we're not here to capture the girl."

"Yep."

"Not here to kill her, yes?"

"Nope."

"She a friend of yours?"

Qrow put the binoculars down and glanced to the man. "Why are you just now asking about this."

Augustus shifted back a little, and looked away from the Huntsman. "Well, I've been trying to figure it out for myself. To be fair, I think I've got an idea." A shrug he took as his que to elaborate. "Well, she's someone in a dangerous position, considering I'm here. I'm assuming she's of some importance given all this-" he gestured around him "-but she's also doing something she shouldn't be. That's why you had to communicate via back channels, like Torchwick and his friends on the... dark side.

"She also took the initiative to communicate with you, not the other way around. That means either she has information that she can't get out by regular means, or she thinks she might be compromised and is looking for a way out without blowing the rest of her cover. Which would also make sense for a basic Merc to tag along. Make this look like some hit job or something."

The Colonel paused for a second as another thought came to mind. "That's why you made the phone call. Telling Ozpin where to send the body bags, right? This is an undercover extraction, isn't it? Not just a pick up."

The Huntsman looked at the Militiaman for a second. "This going to be a problem?"

Augustus just shrugged and waved off the comment. "Bah, me importa un carajo."

"You ever done anything like this before?"

The Colonel took pause with that. The IMC didn't have the authority to engage in snatch-and-grab operations, and the Militia's SRS usually handled the more precision jobs. "Well, most of my career has been either a grunt, or a Pilot. Neither of which I'd consider 'covert' fields." Augustus had a thought, and shrugged. "Unless you consider S and D as covert."

"Well, I guess I should've expected as much." Qrow adjusted his position. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do." He gestured out towards the industrial plant.

The plant was crawling with at least a dozen armed guards, if not more. All were wearing gray suits of a grey to grey-blue variety, sunglasses, and black hats. It appeared that they were attempting to achieve some type of uniformity, but not making the cut. While some were pacing around on a few roof tops and gangways, most sitting around in small clusters near blacked out vehicles. All of them seemed to be equipped guns about the size of a pistol or small carbine. There didn't appear to be any long guns among the thugs, including the patrollers in the elevated positions. Directly interring with the duos entrance into the compound was three men in varying degrees of vigilance, idling around a small black sedan type vehicle.

"We can't go through the front gate, so I need you to get on that walkway and cover me down that ally. We both work our way to those coolant tanks by the garage, and we the scaffold on the side of the warehouse. I'll go in threw the window, you take the roof. Sound good?"

"ROEs?"

"Keep it quiet, and don't kill the girl with the red jacket."

The Colonel slipped on his glasses and gave a thumbs up. "Vámonos, amigo!"

Qrow shot a glare at the strange man from another world. "What is that you keep doing? That's another language or something, isn't it?"

"No talk, we're Oscar Mike." And with that, the Militia Pilot vaulted over the ledge. When Qrow went to follow, he saw a man leading, grabbing, and falling with calculated precision down the side of the building. The man was a natural, seeming to reach out and grab a ledge or fissure without even sparring so much as a glance before dropping down to the next grab point. Quite an impressive feat for a seven story building. Qrow had been planning on taking the fire escape they had used to access the roof in the first place, but, not wanting to be outdone, followed suit.

Once the two men were on the ground again, Qrow first took a small hit to his pride in being beaten down by a man at least a decade his senior.

"Ah ha, pinche…", the Colonel moaned and winced as he rolled his shoulder. "Haven't done that in a while."

And with that Qrow's pride was restored. "Alright old man, get moving. We're Oscar Mike."

"Copy," he said as he pulled out his SMG from his bag and positioned the sling over himself. Qrow could have sworn he muttered something else, but brushed it aside. They had a mission that needed doing, and if he didn't get on with it, there was quite a few folks who would be very upset with him. If what Ozpin had told him was true, then this she definitely needed to be secured, aside from all the normal reasons of securing their targets safety.


A/N

Alright, been a while, I know. I'm doing a lot of stuff, and I got a lot of stuff going on.

One thing is that a reviewer asked me something once, and I'd like to point out that I wasn't lying. Technically. That will make more sense next chapter.

In other news, I'd like to thank all the folks who keep up with this story. Thing I'd like to ask y'all of the Titanfall/RWBY community is, why do you all have an interest in the crossover? There's a lot of stories here, and I'm just curious about the draw between these two fandoms.

Also, don't know if any of you read pure Titanfall stories, but I got one. It's a whole lot better than this story, in my opinion.

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