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It had been a week since the events of Haven Academy, and the gang was taking some much needed time to relax and catch up with each other. They regaled one another with how they fought grim, bandits, and the White Fang. They were all in the middle of dinner when they heard a knock at the front door. Ruby got up and walked cautiously towards the door. They were not expecting any visitors and they were wary of further attacks after taking out Cinder’s faction. Ruby pressed herself against the wall near the door, “Who is it?” A voice came from the other side, “I have a telegram from a General Ironwood.” Ruby looked over at everyone at the table, especially Weiss since she had the most recent contact with the general. All she got were shrugs and nervous looks. Ruby turned back towards the door, “Who’s it for?” The voice on the other side became more irritated. “Look lady, I don’t know. I’m not even an employee from the post office, I work at the inn. All I know

Hank stared down the sights leading down to the skin below Renate’s bangs. The action was so sudden, he didn’t realize what was happening until she moved his hand. He turned his gaze to his 1911 still resting on the table and gave a slight chuckle. “Kind of overdramatic, don’t you think? All you had to do was ask; I brought my own.” Renate opened her eyes and glanced over at Hank’s gun and then back at him. “True, but I felt this as poetic justice. This Luger was issued to me the moment I put on my uniform. Since then, it has been stained with blackness that is my soul. I betrayed my country because I couldn’t stand up for myself. It’s only fitting that a weapon that was against my village kills a traitor of it. I just find it funny that the only life it will take is its owner.” “As long as I get to keep it afterwards. These were prized trophies if we could ever get one.” Renate nodded and closed her eyes once again. Hank sat up straight and tightened his grip on the

Hank sat and stared in bewilderment as he looked between the Luger and Renate’s peaceful face. He thought about the years he did this as others begged to be spared, and now he sits before one on his home turf now begging for him to pull the trigger. Renate opened her eyes and looked deep into Hank’s eyes. As he looked back, all he could see was the soldier in the photo. Hank frowned and tightened his grip on the handle. “99.” Renate cocked her head to the side and pondered his remark. “99 of what?” “Ever since I took the job of hunting people like you, I racked up 99 kills. It started out as just a job, but after about the tenth one, it became a sport. Luckily one of my fellow hunters took pictures of the kills, so I kept them as trophies.” “Sounds like you’re as sick and twisted as some of those I fought side by side with.” Hank pressed the gun harder against her forehead, “Easy there. It works a lot better if you pull the trigger rather than using it as a

Three years passed since the end of the war, but Hank could still feel the shrapnel in his leg every morning. He sat up in bed, rubbing the side of his leg while watching the sunrise through his bedroom window. Once the sting left, he lifted himself out of bed and hobbled his way to the kitchen to start his pot of coffee. As he let the kettle boil, he went outside to retrieve the paper. He flicked the morning dew from the pages and looked it over. Hank sighed seeing that they were just out of one war and there were talks of conflicts in other nations and how the US might get involved. Even still, the news still focused on the fallout of the second world war: court cases of war crimes, granting of amnesties for those that benefited the government, and those still hunting commanding officers of the Nazi SS. Hank was pulled away from the daunting journalism by the sound of his kettle whistling. He went back inside and poured himself a cup. He took a seat and the kitchen table

“The instructions are simple: ladies will remain seated while the gentleman will move along the line at the sound of the buzzer. Now please, take your seats.” The announcer gestured towards the tables as everyone found a place to sit. As if it was a tradition for her, every Valentine’s Day Melody would find herself at some form of singles mixer or speed dating event. Nothing ever came from it beyond an occasional fling, but she also never gave too much thought into finding another relationship. With every buzz, the men would scoot over and Melody would listen to another condensed version of a random stranger’s life while she would rehash her entire life to fit modern times. She always found it awkward and amusing when she would run into someone she met at a past event or an old fling. About a half hour in, the announcer let everyone know that they were taking a ten minute break and then would resume. Melody went out a back door and was immediately hit by the cool air. She

Another century went by, and several more moves later, Melody had made her way to the beaches of Miami to take over another one of her main hubs. She tried keeping in touch with her mother and aunts, and it worked for a while, but stopped about twenty years ago. She tried finding them, but it seemed they had vacated the area and never sent her a change of address. For the first few years she was worried about them, but guessed something happened and they went into hiding like the used to, so she let it be for their safety. Her days now were spent sitting behind her desk wondering about her worth in the job. The business had grown far more than she ever dreamed, now spreading to other countries, and now practically ran itself. She was able to get the painting of her from Adagio, and placed it in her office. She stared at it, thinking back on the years she lived and how she spent them. She wondered, if she had to do it all over again, would she choose the same path or live more for

Melody stretched her limbs as she pulled in behind the retirement home. She had spent so much time behind a desk, she forgot how strenuous transporting product was; she was just glad this was the last one. She loaded up the dolly with the last of the medication shipment and wheeled it through the loading docks. Inside, she met up with one of the nurses. “Where’s George? He’s usually the one that brings in the shipments. Don’t get me wrong, it’s always nice to see you around here.” “His wife went into labor earlier this morning, so I decided to take over since we’re short staffed and had no other drivers. Besides, it gets me back to my roots from when I started. I wasn’t always the top dog.” Melody was escorted to the storage room and she started stocking the shelves. As she went to leave, she stood in shock in the doorway. As if in slow motion, she watched as Aria Blaze exited one of the patient’s room. Melody watched as Aria walked down the hall and exited through the

“Good afternoon Ms. Denson,” the mailman walked into the shop and laid his bag down by the door. Melody popped up from below the counter to great the newcomer, “Good afternoon, Albert. Scorcher outside today, isn’t it? Would you like a glass of water?” “If you don’t mind.” Melody went to the back while Albert sifted through his mailbag. “While I’m here, I might as well drop off your mail for both your business and your home. Makes one less stop for me, and my bag a little bit lighter.” Albert traded Melody her mail for the glass of water, “Thank you.” Melody sifted through the mail, most being bills and ads for local shops. She stopped at one that had a stamp signifying it went through a military postal station. She looked at the sender’s address and noticed that it was from Delilah. She turned to Albert with an excited grin on her face, “It’s a letter from Del!” “Well then I’ll leave you to it. You’ll have to tell me how she is when I come around tomorrow,

Stephen took the job at the auto store while Melody started to create remedies to sell door-to-door when she wasn’t at work. Within a year, the demand for her creations exceeded her ability to keep up. She used the money she saved up to put a down payment on a shop near Stephen’s place of work, and opened up Charming Pharmaceuticals. The business generated great word of mouth and the business was an instant success, allowing them to afford to buy a house in the suburbs. In the spring of 1924, Melody gave birth to a baby girl they named Delilah. By the end of the decade, two tragedies hit their household: the country’s economy went into a great depression, and Stephen’s health deteriorated due to his injuries, eventually causing his death. Times were rough, raising a daughter by herself and trying to keep her business afloat, but Melody was able to make it through with the help of neighborhood friends. The neighbors directly next door were always there to lend a helping

“For once I’d like to come in for my shift and not hear the halls filled with depressing news.” Melody walked over to the nurse’s station and set her purse down. “We’re in the middle of a war. What else are you expecting us to hear? Besides, my husband is currently over there and I’d like to hear what’s going on.” Melody reached over and switched the radio to a music station. “I get it, but all you’re going to do is give yourself a stress ulcer if you’re constantly worried about him. I’m sure he’s fine.” Melody grabbed a stack of letters in front of her. “These haven’t stopped, so he’s still around.” Melody walked over to the wing she was assigned to and leaned against the door frame, “Besides, do you really think they need a constant reminder on why they’re here.” She looked out among the beds and observed the patients. Some were congregating over a table to play cards while others lay in their beds nursing their wounds. “I’m sorry; you’re right. You know