Greetings, all! Before we begin, I wanted to give a quick bit of context for this fic. It began just yesterday, before I'd had the opportunity to see the new episode. It was originally a silly little crackfic idea based off of an inane thought I'd had. But as the idea developed further in my head, I began to focus on one particular aspect of it, and decided to cut out all the rest to develop that bit more.

...Some time between then and when I actually began writing, it had stopped being a crack fic.

This is also going to be a bit of a challenge for myself. I've written many things before, but very rarely have I finished anything but oneshots; I have difficulty sticking with a project past the second or third chapter, and my compulsive desire to make super-long chapters that could be small novels in their own right further hinders progress. But this time, I'm aiming lower - three or four more chapters, each about this length or maybe a bit longer. It isn't hugely impressive, but if I can do this (and if I can do this with my presently insane schedule) then it might be a step in the right direction.

But whether I succeed or fail in this challenge, I hope you all enjoy the results!

The Curse And The Blessing
[Bumblebee, Melanie/Yang]

When you were the top information broker in Vale's criminal underground, you didn't exactly have access to a good hospital. Or a hospital in general, really. Or even a certified doctor. And when you were the bodyguards of the top information broker in Vale's criminal underground, it was your job to ensure such a necessity never arose.

Melanie winced as another ragged shout rang out from behind her, her head throbbing with every noise she heard or movement she made. While her Aura had protected her for most of the… incident, she had finally been taken out with a roundhouse shin to the face and a subsequent nasty crash to the floor. With a bruised forehead and a low-level concussion to the back of the skull, it was a miracle she'd gotten through the frantic rush of today. While she and her sister had sustained relatively minor wounds, their charge had taken some more heavy damage. First-degree burns on his cheek, a sprained jaw, a minor concussion, and some non-lethal whiplash to his neck, they had been told. Their collective attacker had used her nastiest attack at the very end, when his small aura had all but been depleted, leaving real lasting damage on top of downing his last defenses. It was brutal and dirty, and if it wasn't her personal pride at stake, Melanie would likely have applauded.

But after a frantic day spent calling in some of Junior's old contacts to find a willing and reasonably capable doctor with enough skeletons in the closet not to tell on them, she was in no mood to appreciate their attacker's handiwork. Or really feel much in the way of anger, either, what with greater concerns on the mind. Anger was for later. Right now, Melanie just wanted some sleep, quite frankly, but her professional pride meant she would have to wait a bit longer.

Down the darkened hall, some people -Melanie knew it was stereotypical, but she couldn't help but think of them as Henchmen- had set up some crates and a TV, and were watching the news. Loudly. It hurt and she wanted them to stop.

Lisa Lavender stood in front of a line of Police tape, the camera jostled by the crowd around her. In the background, Melanie could make out some warehouses and several massive containers branded with the Schnee company logo, and beyond that, open waters. Three large dark shapes bobbed out there, surrounded by a great many smaller figures. "Police are currently attempting to rescue and apprehend the perpetrators, who are suspected to be members of the White Fang. Meanwhile, it is unclear exactly how they were stopped, or what could have had the power to bisect the two Bullhead aircraft used in the attack. However, one witness claims to have seen several teenagers dressed in garb typical of Hunters and Huntresses. Attempts to contact the headmasters of Signal and Beacon academies for comment or confirmation have met with no success. More on this as it dev-"

The reporter was cut off by the sudden roar of engines, and the camera swung sharply upward to catch something fly overhead. The crowd began screaming and panicking, but the Bullhead simply flew out to the water. The camera zoomed in to see a loading ramp unfold from one side, the airship hovering over the wreckage as a few indistinct figures began pulling the stranded people from the harbor. After only a few tense moments, it had gathered all but a few, and turned for another sweep overhead, going off to a destination unknown. Lingering on the cityscape for a few more moments, the camera turned back to Lisa to find her normal composure in disarray. "Did you get that?" She comically gasped, and before Melanie could react, the feed suddenly cut to a commercial break.

"I wonder what that was about." Militades whispered from the other side, mindful of her sibling's headache. "Do you think that really was the White Fang?" While hardly paragons of virtue themselves, the Twins had decided long ago not to get involved in anything on the level of the White Fang. Those sorts of extremists had ideals and goals beyond 'just' money, and that sort of thing never ended well for anyone involved.

"I think we have bigger things to worry about," Melanie shot back moodily, and another muffled grunt came from the door as if on cue. "That Doc better not be trying to kill our boss." To be quite frank with herself, even after two and a half years of working with Junior, Melanie didn't honestly care much about him, one way or another, but her pride was at an all-time low. Failing to stop the blonde wrecking ball yesterday evening was bad enough, but if they followed it up by letting some unscrupulous medic do who-knew-what sort of horrifying things to their employer, she would never forgive herself. Too many mistakes had been made lately, and one more could be enough to ruin their reputations -and thus, their careers- forever.

Junior had been difficult enough to work for even before this mess, too – she could never quite get a read on him, never quite figure out how he thought or what he was after, something that made protecting him a difficult proposition. He looked and acted like a thug, but depending on the situation, seemed to vary between incredibly intelligent and unbelievably idiotic. "Knowledge is power, and with criminals like us, power is profit. I learn people's secrets. I have all the knowledge, all the profit, to dispense or withhold of my own free will. I don't want to run the city, of course; too much attention. But if I'm the go-between, I get to keep my head low and still be one of the richest men here." He'd once explained to her, impressing her greatly. But then he turned around and did stuff like falling for the interloper's "kiss and make up" line, and suddenly it was like all that cold intellect was thrown out the window, along with any respect Melanie had for her boss. And this time, it had cost the three of them badly.

"Well, actually, it seems he's done." The words were barely out of her mouth before the door all but smashed open, sending both twins jumping back in surprise. The doctor they had hired, a lean and tall man with a widow's peak and a slightly unnerving grin stepped out to see the duo in battle poses, ready to fight him off if need be, despite their own injuries.

"Well, this isn't quite the reaction I was hoping for," he commented, looking more amused than anything. "I'll have you know your charge is safe and sound. He'll need a week or so to recover, but it's not as bad as it looked at first." He gave a small chuckle and moved out of the way. "You can see him now. I'll stick around until he's better, and then we'll discuss payment." The way he said the last part sounded intentionally menacing, but the twins were unfazed.

Warily tracking him until he'd backed up a bit further, Melanie moved toward the door, whispering "I'll check on him; you keep watch out here" as she went.

Upon ascertaining that Junior had indeed not been flayed alive by a madman, that was how the two proceeded from there; one kept watch over their employer in the small storeroom while the other slept or went out to make some preliminary preparations for Junior's return. Henchmen had to be rounded up and convinced that the man was still worth following, the damages to the club assessed – more favors would have to be called in to get the damage fixed, unless they could hire a construction crew without exposing their more illegal aspects. In short, it had been a huge disaster, and all because of one stupid -and stupidly powerful- blonde.

So it was only natural that the unexpected meeting Melanie had two days later came as an unpleasant surprise. Her head was still sore, but no longer a constant source of pain; the doctor (whose name she still hadn't quite caught, as Militia had been doing most of the talking for them) had said she could expect to be better within three weeks at the very latest.

For his part, Junior was able to open his mouth without extreme pain, but he was still nowhere near feeling okay. Militia, the least injured of the three of them, had temporarily taken charge, something that usually fell to Melanie in their employer's absence. She was torn between the tiniest bit of sisterly pride in the most remote recesses of her cold heart, and the tiniest bit of envy that she wasn't even able to do that much this time around. She was feeling useless and helpless, and her pride in her abilities had been severely damaged by the beatdown that had instigated this whole mess in the first place.

Told by her sister to take it easy, Melanie now sat in the far corner of a packed café, nibbling without any real hunger on a croissant she'd bought using a fake ID. She'd been mulling over the recent difficulties, and would likely have continued to do so in peace had it not been for the one who entered next.

A group of four girls in eclectic wear walked in, laughing amongst themselves. The one in front, wearing a red cloak over a black dress, was the most animated, grinning widely and gesticulating as she spoke to the others. The words were indistinct over the other patrons' collective din, but her voice still carried fairly well. Next in line was the shortest of the bunch, in a white and blue dress that seemed to fit better on a ballerina. She was more reserved, but still gave a big grin at the leader. Melanie mused that her face seemed familiar from somewhere, but she couldn't quite place it. Third was a dark-haired girl with a huge bow atop her head and a black vest on over a fancy white shirt. She seemed to be the quietest of the bunch, but was also receiving the most attention from the others; the special treatment was clearly making her uncomfortable. And last but not least was-

Melanie dropped her croissant, mind going blank with shock as her head injury suddenly throbbed worse than ever. It couldn't be; what was she doing here?

It was the blonde girl who had trashed the club.

Whether you loved or hated what I have thus far, I would appreciate it greatly if you could give me some constructive feedback. Have a good day!