It had been a routine job.
It had been a routine job that was supposed to go the same as every other job, every other robbery.
His tires weren't supposed to get shot out.
His car wasn't supposed to be blindsided.
He wasn't supposed to end up on life support, barely clinging to the edge of life.
It was a miracle that he hadn't ended up in prison, James tells himself. It was a greater miracle that he was alive today.
Now, the fact that James was driving to Roman's apartment was the greatest surprise at all. Most people wouldn't go crawling back into the line of work that had left them in the hospital for over a year.
But here he was, pulling into one of the spare parking spaces at the back of the building, and taking a long moment to just sit there and think for a long moment over what he was about to do. Once in a while he'd let his hands tighten around his steering wheel. James even considers resting his head against it at one point, but chooses not to.
Why was he doing this to himself?
James parks the car, removing the keys from the ignition and stepping out of the car, careful to lock the door behind him as he begins walking towards the apartment to see his associates for the first time in over a year.
He had medical bills to pay, after all. A lot of them.
He finds the elevator, electing to take it up to the third floor where Roman's apartment was instead of taking the stairs. Walking didn't always feel natural quite yet.
On the way up, James finds himself fidgeting with his clothing, a lot. Pulling the glove on tight that covered his metallic hand, pulling down the sleeve of his coat and the sweater underneath it, making sure that the collar of his shirt was high enough that nobody would be able to see what lay underneath. Eventually he gives up. James closes his eyes, trying to block out his worries as he braces himself for what was about to come.
A big part of him tells him they probably already knew.
An even bigger part of him seriously hopes that they didn't.
There'd been a lot of changes.
They were going to ask him why he was back.
Medical bills, James reminds himself. He had medical bills to pay.
The sound of a dinging echoes in James' ears. Ding. Ding.
The elevator lurches to a stop, and for a long moment, James hesitates, hearing the final dinging sound before stepping out of the elevator and starting down the hallway to room 311 where he knew Roman would be waiting, along with everyone else. It's not a long walk, but when James reaches the door, he hesitates there for what feels like an eternity. After taking a minute to steel himself, James raises a hand to knock on the door. Left hand, not that he ever would have done that before.
Before his hand even touches the door, it opens. James looks up. Sees a pair of impossibly gentle black eyes.
Hei Xiong.
Everyone called him Junior, especially when they were on a job. James didn't know why, but it just was how things were. Something in the back of James' mind screamed that it was entirely likely that nobody knew why.
"James." Junior greets him, and James simply nods to him before entering the apartment, nearly silent. He does his best not to betray his feelings, simply going to the living room where he knew everyone would be waiting, with a number of drinks going around.
Roman's couches were full of people, all familiar faces. As he passes by the kitchen, James takes note of things that had changed. Drawings done by young children decorated the walls, and for a moment, James feels a flit of fear fly through his chest.
Penny had nearly lost a father on his last job.
Roman's girl was at risk, Neo, James thought her name was. Junior's girls were at risk too. He couldn't remember their names, but as far as he remembered, they were twins with hair as black as their father's.
The absolute last thing he wanted to see was them lose their fathers.
He makes it into the living room, just a bit behind Junior, who immediately took his seat next to Roman on a loveseat. Roman seemed distracted, flipping between maps, notes, and photographs on an easel that James was sure he'd seen get replaced a hundred times over the course of his knowing Roman.
James moves to sit in the old recliner that he'd always taken a seat in, but stops, seeing that there was someone in the seat that he'd always taken during these meetings. His eyes met the color of rust.
Almost immediately James steps away from the recliner, walking across the room to instead seat himself on a plush burgundy colored couch between two women, one with snowy white hair and the other with hair the color of spun gold.
The white haired woman looks over at him, seemingly surprised to see him back. "General-"
"Winter." James answers, giving her a nod and raising a hand to stop her from saying too much before leaning back a bit, removing a small notepad from his breast pocket and a silvered pen, ready to scribble down notes as they came up. Winter accepts James' quiet request, simply facing forward with a notepad in her lap and mechanical pencil tucked behind her ear.
Roman turns, hearing James' voice and smiles, a wide grin creasing his face, cheshire-like at the sight of James. "General!" His voice seems light at the sight of James. James wants to shrink away from the scrutiny, and finds himself tugging down at his sleeve again.
"Hello." James simply says, hoping that he wasn't going to have to talk too much about his return to a life of crime.
"Glad to have you back, General. It's been… what, a year?" Roman seems to step forward a bit, smiling and swerving his body as he got a better look at James. The way that his orange hair sways with the motion almost looks comical, making a small smile flit across James' face for just a moment.
"Roughly." James' cobalt eyes stray up to Roman's easel, seeing a map there of Atlas city, with a number of locations circled in black market, and roads that were highlighted in red, with neatly written notes alongside them, with words that would be seemingly nonsense to anyone who was uninitiated.
Instructions, James knew. More specifically, assignments. Escape routes, points of interests, plans all handed down by some power that nobody ever seemed to be in close contact with.
They called him the Wizard while they were on the job, though from what James knew the man's name was Ozpin. Ozpin was mysterious, only appearing to the band of criminals as a voice or as a message on a scroll to Glynda. James wasn't entirely sure that Ozpin was a single person, but whoever they were, they had never mislead them before, and as a result there had never been someone killed on a job under Ozpin's instruction.
They'd gotten close to losing someone once, James reminds himself. Very close.
He feels his right hand clench into a fist, almost involuntarily.
James closes his eyes, realizing that the two women at his side were probably highly aware of the fact that he'd just tensed all over, and he prays that neither Winter or Glynda would say anything. He simply feels a gentle hand on his left shoulder. James opens his left eye, peeking over to see who was there. Glynda, of course. James sits upright, clicking his pen in his hand and shoots Glynda a weak smile of reassurance that he was alright and definitely not in pain or anxious to be there.
"Well, since it seems we're all here." Roman's voice breaks through the room, drawing everyone's eyes to him at the front, where he was getting up from beside Junior and half-hopping towards the easel that was there beside him. "We've gotten an assignment from the old Wizard, and we've got the General back to make it all happen." Roman looks about the room, a smile that always said mischief stretched across his face.
"It's simple this time. As usual, he hasn't said why he wants us to do this in any real detail, though we have our... speculations." A tinge of annoyance touched Roman's voice at this, but James didn't question it. Nobody would, they all knew how things were. Ozpin was mysterious, but Ozpin was brilliant when it came to organizing heists. Usually there seemed to be a good reason.
"So nobody questions it?" The raspy voice comes from the direction of the chair where James would normally sit, and everyone in the room seems to zero in on the man sitting there immediately. He was obviously new, James noted, but he would have had to have been brand new if he was asking such a thing.
Roman simply laughs. "We've all given up on asking at this point, birdy." Roman's voice sounds. "Ozpin's not really one for answering questions, they just pick the men, then picks the targets. Our job," Roman pauses a long moment. If he had a cigar in his hand, Roman probably would have twirled it, James thinks. "Is to make sure that the jobs get carried out and ensure that everyone goes home with a pretty penny in their pocket."
Roman reaches out with a permanent marker in his hand and taps on a green circled building on the map with the cap. James had seen that particular building on nearly every map and plan that had been brought before their little group. It was an old warehouse, with a decently large parking garage nearby, conveniently located near a bus stop so that nobody risked getting found out.
"This," Roman begins. "Will be our base of operations and where we'll be meeting before and after we hit the target. No personal vehicles, but I shouldn't have to say that. Surely we're not all amateurs by now."
The couch that James was sitting on shifts to his left as Glynda stands up, a sleek black tablet in her arms. "Ozpin wants this to go as smoothly as possible. Not like..." Her vibrant green eyes slide over to James, leaving James wanting to shrink away under the scrutiny. Glynda and James's eyes meet for a moment before Glynda looks away. "Last time."
Roman leans against the armrest of the loveseat where Junior was still sitting, not seeming to mind that Glynda was taking the spotlight away from him for the moment. She was the one who did all the communications with Ozpin, not him. Roman was simply a natural showman, much more than Glynda was. He smiles widely, his hat slumping a bit atop his vivid red hair. "You must know about our target, Glynda. Wanna share with the class?"
Glynda seems to glare at Roman before straightening back up, looking like a straight-laced headmistress instead of a criminal. "Ozpin has taken a particular interest in a particular oil company, which has stations and locations across the city. Roman, if you would?"
On cue, Roman reaches out with the marker, tapping on a string of four black circles that were on the map. James scribbles this down on his notepad, since it surely meant that they would be striking all four of the locations, either all in one night or at the same time. He looks back up, to see Roman taping up photographs on the wall next to the easel, all of nearly identical gas stations.
"Ozpin has been interested in disrupting G.U. Industries, as they have recently become involved in what appears to be insider trading, questionable business practices, and have recently made a supply deal with the military involving their oil." Glynda keeps her tone highly controlled as she goes over the speculated reasons for Ozpin requesting this particular attack.
"What he wants for us to do," Glynda closes her eyes for a moment, bringing a hand up so that she could adjust her glasses and flick away her gold hair. "Is to render these stations unusable. No loss of life, no hostages, but he does want us to ensure that these stations are out of business."
Roman flips the page on his easel, showing a page that had a list of names written on it, all of which corresponded to the names of the people in the room. "Codenames are generally the same. Junior, you're Junior, Glynda, you'll be the White Witch as usual, Winter, Blizzard. Qrow, you'll be Birdy until we think of something better. I'll be Mascara as usual, and James-"
Everyone seems to look at him now, painfully aware of his return to the criminal fold. James sits a bit upright, closing his notepad with his pen inside of it, in a show of false confidence. The room is mostly silent, aside from the sound of Roman opening the cap of the marker in his hand then immediately snapping it shut with a quiet pop.
"We're all glad to have the General back."
"I'm glad to be back." The words feel poisonous, like they'd been trapped in James' throat, or they were blatant lies. It wasn't a complete lie, not really. But the fact that he was returning to a life that had almost resulted in his death was there, lingering in the back of James' mind.
Only a madman would throw himself into this sort of position twice.
Well, that's what James would have told himself a year ago, and yet here he was. He looks down at his hands, finding himself clenching his right hand into a fist with very little thought to him making the action. His brow furrows, before James looks between Glynda and Roman, head on now. "What do you need me to do?"
Roman and Glynda seem to exchange a look and a silent conversation, but after a moment, Glynda spoke first. "Since it'll be your first job since the... incident, Ozpin thought it would be prudent that you take your position in helping Winter and Qrow in scouting out the locations before the job itself. Come the day of our heist, we will likely have you drive." Glynda's eyes seem to soften for a moment as James simply nods his agreement.
Not even a minute later, Roman had taken charge again, handing out preliminary assignments to everyone in the room, though most of them were all simple tasks. Looking into their targets, understanding the security situation in each one. Routine scouting.
It's a process that takes several minutes, and by the time it was done, Junior had a slip of paper circulating around the room to take sandwich orders, part of an old tradition of theirs. Meetings were always followed by a meal.
The real grit of their meeting worked through, it was the time where everyone took a minute for their own social interactions. James doesn't move from the couch, feeling a bit of pain flaring up through his arm and down into his leg.
He struggles to make himself comfortable, taking the opportunity once Winter and Glynda were both up and about to shift his position on the couch to try and find one that was a bit more supportive. James sighs lowly, reminding himself that he had painkillers in the car, not that he wanted to drive when he was using them.
"You going to be alright?" A voice makes James open up his eyes, accompanied by the sound of glass being set down against a glass coffee table. Turning his eyes up, James sees Junior there with two glasses of scotch on ice resting on the table in front of the couch. James sits up a bit, fighting through the pain and reaches out, taking one of the two glasses.
"I'll be alright." James answers after a long moment. "Just some pain."; He swirls the glass in his hand a bit, watching as the amber liquid inside rippled and created a tiny whirlpool. "Thank you." James looks up, his eyes meeting Junior's as a smile stretched across his face.
Junior nods, raising his glass to James in a quiet toast. "Well, you're alive. That's more than anyone ever expected."
James' hand tightens slightly around the cold glass in his left hand. "I'm glad for that." James mumbles the words, staring down at his two hands. Right resting on his knee, left holding the scotch. "There have just been a lot of changes."
Junior seems to hesitate a long moment, raising his glass to his lips before taking a sip of the scotch. His black eyes seem to travel around the apartment, falling on the drawings on the walls. "Yeah." Junior almost whispers the word. "Things have changed for me too."
James doesn't look up at the pictures on the walls. He doesn't feel its his place to question it too deeply. It was Junior and Roman's business, not his. He was sure that if they met at his house, nobody would question how his apartment was decorated. "I can imagine."
There's a knock at the door, and soon everyone's off getting their sandwiches and enjoying them, most conversing over things that weren't of great consequence. Sports, politics, how their children were doing. Junior takes his glass and goes off to get the food, and James is left along on the couch again.
After sitting there for a minute or two James stands, emptied glass in his hand and walks into the kitchen, where the new guy with the rust colored eyes- Qrow, he reminds himself, was leaning against a counter, half-slouched over, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Qrow looks James up and down, as though he were looking for something, brow raised. "So you're the guy I replaced, huh?"
James sets the empty glass down next to the sink, confusion reading clear on his face. "Pardon?"
Qrow sets the bottle down beside him, leaning towards James a bit in a hunch and squinting up at him. "They brought me in to fill in a gap which I'm guessing-" Qrow leans back against the counter, his black hair flopping into his eyes as he brought the bottle up, drinking directly from it. "Was left by you."
James steps back, blue eyes narrowing. What was this guy's problem? "I've been away, yes." His jaw clenches, his voice tight as he gets the response out. "But that's none of your business."
"They want me to drive around with you." Qrow sounds like he's taunting James, voice gravelly. James wonders for a moment if that was a result of overdrinking or just Qrow's natural voice. "I'd rather not, but I don't think I get much of a choice in the matter.
James straightens up in a manner that he'd done nearly a hundred times when he was still in the military. "We'll be going out to view the routes after you and Winter are done eating." James sounds like a commander, voice hard and expression harder. Like tempered steel. James doesn't notice that Qrow seems to take a half-step back, intimidated. He doesn't notice how Qrow's breath seemed to hitch in his throat either.
"...Right. Scouting with you and princess. Got it." Qrow seems resigned, and James nods, still standing tall.
"My car's down in the lot." James says the words, forceful. "We'll be leaving in twenty. I recommend you be ready to take notes. The last thing you want on a job is getting left behind."
There's a pause as James thinks, sighs. "Take my word for it."