Rescue mission: start.

The feeling of warp travel always gave you the strangest of sensations: a twisting knot in your stomach, a popping in your ears, even a slight chill across your skin as you traverse a physics defying wormhole. At the very least, the travel is over just as quickly as it begins and when you emerge from the swirling vortex of the in-between, the bright lobby of Ozpin's Tower is replaced by the sandy streets and clay buildings of Vacuo. Sitting low in the sky was the Shattered Moon sinking into the horizon as the first rays of early morning peak between sleepy homes. It would've been a serene setting if not for the surprised yet still bloodthirsty grin of a certain Faunus man standing before you.

"Oh? Another little lamb has come to the slaughter?" the scorpion known as Tryian Callows says with a maniacal cackle, his wrist-mounted claws extended and stained with blood.

You remain silent as you stare down Salem's resident madman before glancing over your shoulder, ignoring his question entirely. For the first time in many years, you felt your heart twinge with pain for another. Kneeling upon the ground was a battered and bloodied Neopolitan cradling the far too still body of Roman Torchwick. A quick scan of his soul confirmed your suspicions. Tears ran down her cheeks in rivers as her eyes, full of sorrow and torment, stare up at you with wonder, happiness, and relief, but her emotions were rightly a chaotic storm. She screamed for vengeance against the monster who stole her crook away from her.

"Neo," you say with as much comfort as you could manage. "It's ok. You're safe now."

She presses her lips into a thin line and gives a curt nod, her jaw trembling.

"You know, it's quite rude to ignore someone when they ask you a question," interjects Tyrian as he cocks his hip to the side.

"You've certainly made a mess of things, haven't you insect?" you say lowly, a seething anger brewing in your chest.

You didn't particularly care about Torchwick being dead, but his **** cut deeply into Neo's heart which was all the motivation you needed. Your comment certainly has the desired effect you wanted on your opponent as he bristles up hotly.

"You dare speak to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?" he growls, falling into a low stance and preparing to strike.

"I do, and I really don't care," you answer before addressing Neo once more, the subconscious limiters you built up for school and vigilante work falling aside. "Sit tight, hun. This will be over quickly."

"Excuse me?!" Tyrian shrieks at your nonchalance, the grin of a lunatic growing on his face. "Oh this will be fun! I'll make sure to take my time with you!"

He breaks out into a mad sprint, giggling madly as he brings his claws to bear. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in entertaining a psychopath who dared to hurt one of your lovers and it showed as you close the distance in the blink of an eye. A rush of wind follows you as you pierce the sound barrier in a resounding clap, burying your fist deeply into Tyrian's gut. A gasping **** spills out from his mouth followed by the purple sparks of his aura shattering in one blow. The momentum of your punch follows through, and the scorpion Faunus is sent bouncing across the ground to land in a twitching heap.

"Hmmm, still alive," you comment idly as you begin a easy walk. "At least Salem didn't pick a glass cannon as her assassin... even if he's clinically insane."

Tyrian growls at your nonchalant reference to his Queen, but soon composes himself once more and climbs to his feet despite the teeter in his balance.

"You talk as if you know our glorious Queen," he says with a sinister grin. "Know that walking away from her is a **** sentence and the little ice cream tart behind you is just as guilty as the has-been thief."

He cackles once more and raises his wrist-blades, the claws spreading apart to reveal twin barrels followed by a storm of automatic fire. Tilting your head to the side, you raise a hand and focus your powers. In a manner reminiscent of Neo in the Matrix, you bend reality and halt the storm of bullets mere inches from your palm. Tyrian on the other-hand remains oblivious to how grossly outclassed he was in the presence of a God, and it wasn't until his magazines ran empty with a tell-tale click that he realized how fruitless his efforts to kill you truly were. The scorpion stood with dumbstruck terror as his eyes swept across the hovering assembly of projectiles. Not a single round had touched you.

"How-!"

He never got to finish his comment. With a forward flick of your finger, the trajectory of nearly 200 dust rounds reversed directly towards their owner, your influence carefully maneuvering their paths into non-vital targets. Tyrian screams in agony as his own bullet storm pierces through un-shielded skin, showering him in a pink mist as he collapses backwards onto the the ground. The "fight" now effectively concluded, you close the final few meters between you to find him miserably writhing in a steadily growing pool of his own blood. Battered, broken, and utterly outmatched, what little strength he had left was spent clinging to his rapidly fleeting life.

"My my, I suppose the great Tyrian Callows isn't as formidable as a fighter as I expected," you say quietly with a shake of your head. "Salem truly will be furious with you if I send you back in this condition."

"Fuck... you..." Tyrian manages to spit out with a globule of blood.

"Not a bad choice of last words," you quip back with a shrug.

Few forces on this planet could actually save him now, you being one of them. Honestly, it truly did disappoint you with how quickly Salem's assassin went down. It wasn't nearly as ridiculous as say a One Punch Man battle, but still it left you considerably unfulfilled. Unfortunate indeed, but not altogether unpleasant. Sex was far more up your alley anyway despite your fledgling love for battle. For now however, you had a choice to make. Tyrian's survival literally sat in your hands, the finality of a mortal's life taking a far different meaning now that you had Ascended.

At the forefront of your mind, the choice was obvious; kill the insect. He hurt one of your lovers, directly and indirectly, and that alone warranted **** by your own decree, but there was also another option. Send him directly back to Salem exactly as he was; broken and bleeding. At that point, you could reasonably conclude one of two things would happen; she would finish him herself for his failure or nurse him back to life and give you a much more exciting fight. That second thought made you chuckle with well deserved irony. Looks like you were adopting some Vegeta in your power trip and if his story taught you anything, it's that hubris loves to pay you back in spades.