DISCLAIMER: RWBY is property of Roosterteeth Productions, LLC. I am in no way associated with its operations nor the production of RWBY. I so solemnly swear that I have no holdings nor involvement with Roosterteeth Productions, LLC or RWBY.
In an apartment complex, a scarred Faunus examined her wall where names, places, dossiers, and faces were connected by pins and strings. Mob families, media moguls, business heads.
Huntsmen.
The links between each faction and each unit were so twisted up in each other, she wouldn't be surprised if loyalties began blurring and heads began turning.
Bodyguards. Shade Academy. The Kinkaze-kai. The Vacuoan Mafia. Her family. And the Archer crime family.
She approached the photo of a young man: silver-hair, paled orange eyes, his fox-like stare hinted his crueler streak. 4 dead bodies. Assets and stocks were acquired, redistributed and what could not was liquidated by relevant parties. Money was laundered. Palms were greased. Bank accounts got filled and some well-dressed thug, a real scum of the earth type, got a new toy.
She judged her own 'assets': a wall full of weapons, ammunition, dust, and other tools she would need in the coming days. So many ways to get the job done. So many things that could go wrong. Blueprints of buildings, employee schedules, dates filled with information about where and when key figures would go. Numbered, weighed, and sorted lockers full of munitions and ordnance lined the room where they could. MREs tucked away in a crate. Francine Chateau was a woman on a mission. Extra-judicial killings might not exactly be legal.
But they were moral. More fulfilling than a sentencing.
She mulled over the man's history: a young son of Nikolas Archer the IV and Argenta DaSilva. One of many Archer children. Another child who grew up in the Archer crime Family, raised to appreciate lawless luster, growing into yet another Captain who indulged in all manner of pleasures. This son in particular had a taste for Faunus with Equestrian features: hooves, long tails, and flickering ears. Skilled in archery. Known for participating in the defense of various Frontier villages and towns for the thrill of it, fighting against rival Families, debt collecting, and if need be
Taking people out.
The L'Argent Archier. The Silver Archer. The Silver Bow of Chiron (a dumb, overly glorified name). The Silver Fox. Foxeyes.
All names for the same man.
He was not infamous strictly for assassination. A fact that made her frown. In fact all the wetwork he had done (that was confirmed and filed, as far as police reports went) were only of 2 specific people: a Vacuoan gang-banger who had been trafficking in Archer Family territory and a hitman purportedly hired by the Kinkaze-Kai. Vacuo was already a lawless hive, and no authority shed a tear over the loss of the criminal elements. The local law having been bribed probably helped Foxeyes escape a jail sentence. The remaining 2 were trickier.
Word of mouth and hearsay hinted at a setup. "The Silver Fox had leaked information and got rival gangs to take out a lieutenant of the Kinkaze-Kai yakzua!". Others would shoot that down, "No! It was a deal between the Vacuoan Mob and the Archer Family to take out an enemy." One outlandish story proclaimed that "the L'Argent Archier had predicted the future! So he set up a trap, months before he killed the lieutenant." Implying a semblance. Not that it was unexpected. No one really goes long in the business without picking up a few tricks. Though it did tend to bring the heat on any bad guy who had their Aura unlocked, even if done through legal means.
She sighed.
The Silver Fox had been acquitted of one murder however: alibi from both Family related and unrelated witnesses put him somewhere else when the murder happened. A sky-capitan who had been trafficking humans and Faunus alike through the underworld. Still had him connected with the Archer Family. Otherwise, the Silver Fox was more or less a gopher, a courier delivering messages and served protection detail when asked or ordered to. A man who had worked for Those Murderers. A man who knew the names and faces of gangsters and gunmen who were there when IT happened. Who were involved with that bloody mess.
A man who had recently been spotted in her home turf.
Vale was a sprawling metropolis reached everywhere, into the sky, beneath the earth, or upon its surface. The city spread. There was never enough cops to walk the beat, especially in the undercity. Thankfully, she could
Foxeyes would be dead soon enough, but he would prove useful to her first.
He would tell her what she wanted to know. A crowbar into a closed door. He would be the one to give her just revenge.
Francine Chateau was a woman of focus. A woman with a mission.
She would not be stopped.
"Moi cousin! Look at you, like a real beaux voyous." A silver-haired man, with hazel eyes caught sight of a familiar face.
"Hey, Sterling." Jaune's smile strained. Beaux voyous, huh? He returned the greeting. Damn. Sterling still gave hard hugs. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"2 years, Jaune and you're still so damn tall! Ah, ze ladies must love you. Tall guys and big shoes, yes?" Sterling's smile was matched by Jaune's sheepish expression. Oh, sacre bleu! Even though Jaune looked fresh in his gray vest, clean dress shirt, finished with a nice grey blazer. Something's never changed. Good thing He was here then!
"Allonsi, cousin!" Pulling him towards a random direction, he did not like the grin that plastered his cousin's face. "W-Where are we going 'Ling?" Jaune's nervousness was palpable.
"To le femmes! C'mon Jaune, ze night is young and we have all of next morning to celebrate! To ze Archer-Arc reunion!" With a final cheer, they arrived at the nightclub, above its entrance shone a cherry neon sign displaying "INFERNO". The line was long, a sight that gave a modicum of hope to Jaune; the bouncers were about to turn them away when Sterling cheekily showed them their VIP passes. The modicum of hope was promptly smashed, as they entered the club. It was like entering another world.
The club's dance floor was lit up with colorful clubbers and light-up tiles, the bass thrummed through the floor and into the air, the booths and tables had c;I,[s of club-goers, and the night was still young. Jaune recalled the times he and Sterling went to a club. A lot of it was hazy, but he distinctively remembered either 'setting fire' to the dance floor, getting into drinking contests with patrons, or inevitably have to bail out a certain Sterling Archer out of fist fight. Or all 3.
He'd be lying if he hadn't gotten some satisfaction from the fights they got in.
Jaune sat at the table that Sterling had pointed him toward, while the man in question was busy talking with the bartender. He ordered an old fashioned, and tried negotiating for some cocktail; Jaune vaguely made out the words 'vodka' and 'grasshopper'. He hummed to the music as he waited, eying the clubgoers, the music was an electronic house track he'd vaguely recall he had heard before. Meh. Hadn't stopped him from (in the words of his grandfather) cutting a rug before. Though it did make getting numbers easier.
Sterling finally sat down. Their drinks arrived after a while and the two made a commemorative toast before sipping their respective drinks. They settled down, a moment of silence passed between them. The twice-removed cousins' toast was bookended by the two bursting out with laughter. Their howls were cut out by the music though nearby tables shot them a glance. In particular, a table where 5 guys in suits sat. A shiny pin shone from their lapels.
"So, Jaune…"
"Hmmm?" His foot tapped to the music absently.
"Huntsman…" Of course… Ooooooof. Course.
"Did mom or dad tell you to do this?" The bark of laughter did not make his stomach settle any easier.
"Psh. Your Mamam and Papa have nuh-sing to do with zis. Zey still send you money, no?" It was true. They had kept sending him his monthly allowance. A show of support for his decision or pity?
"Mmmm." Or maybe it was some long-term scheme.
"But anyway, I do not care to talk aboot your parents. Your life, mon cousin! You have not, uploaded, anyzing to your Lifebook!" Jaune grumbled. "So who knows what you are doing. It is an enigma, particular, with your success." If this was just 'catching up with family', why did it feel like having teeth pulled?
"Well, I got in."
"Obviously."
"You don't think I'm lying?" The man's eyes wrinkled in amusement.
"Oh, I have little doubt to sink zat your continued stay here, is intentional." The man sipped his Grasshopper. It seemed to glow in the club light.
"Glad to know someone has faith in me." Sterling took a show-bow.
"I aim to please, monsieur."
"Yeah. I'm doing good. I mean I- I'm not the greatest." The quirked eyebrow set off a flare of anxiety in his stomach. "I heard a sword went, missing." Jaune winced. Of course he'd know what happened to Crocea Morrs.
"I also know Huntsman, no matter how small they are. Must have their aura, déchaîné, moi cousin. Hmm, I recall zat your aura was…" He seemed to sniff in distaste. "Still locked away." His cousin cringed. "I also recall zat you never attended any academie de combat." Both very true facts that made him extremely uncomfortable. Why couldn't they just talk shop?
"I got lucky…?" Sterling snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"'Lucky', he says!" Sterling mocked "You slung yourself into danger, Jaune. You had a plan but you did not realize the logistique of it all." He leaned forward, dropping his accent. "It was extremely dangerous, Jaune."
Yeah. Jaune sighed. As if the thought hadn't crossed his mind during initiation, and after that. Foolhardy, his name was Jaune Arc.
"It's good that you know. Now that, that is out of the way." Sterling topped both of their glasses. "The way I hear it, Huntsmen can drink triple what ordinary men can drink. Care to prove it?" The gauntlet was thrown. Jaune clinked his glass against his cousin's.
"En garde."
It wasn't long before the duo were hitting the dance floor.
As the Arc-Archer Reunion continued, the boys enjoyed the time there: shots, dancing, and fine company in the form of twins dressed in red and white.
"HAHAHA!" Jaune guffawed, as the twins tittered. Well, more like Militia tittered whilst Melanie snorted though that didn't stop her from smiling with them. Sterling Archer had certainly been up to no good: in Vacuo he had encountered some dumb fool-hardy tourists, a group of lads wanting to prove their 'badass-itude" (read: getting tribal tattoos and into needless fights).
"No way! No one would literally kick a wasps nest just to prove they were badass!" Jaune chuckled. The girl in red that sat next to him nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, like, that's super dumb." The girl in red took a sip of something fruity. Jaune idly noticed that it smelt like strawberries and tequila.
"Hey, what can I say." Sterling threw his arms wide, shrugging, the grin on his face grew roguish. "I'm a charmer."
"Oh?" Melanie's half-lidded gaze, smoldered against the cool grey eyes of Stering's. They leaned a little closer to each other.
"Like, what do you think, Militia?" She turned to her sister who in turn took in the sights. Silver or gold?
Militia leaned into Jaune's side fluttering her lashes at him. She had certainly struck gold.
Jaune found himself staring back into her green eyes. This was nice. Nostalgic even.
"Silver's, like, not my colour, Melanie. I prefer…" His arm suddenly felt snug.
"…something shinier." It was getting pretty hot in here, was a thought that struck Jaune. Very comfortable too. The round of laughter at his expense, didn't help his blush go away, but he did take the opportunity to sneak a hand atop of Militia's thigh. It wasn't cheating on Weiss if they weren't together.
The crimson-suited girl shivered.
"Well how about we take this somewhere else, yeah?" Sterling leaned in closer, a smirk on his face. He was certainly a handsome one. If a bit of a prick.
"Oooh? What're we, like, going to do?" She met his smile, with a smirk of her own. Meanwhile, Jaune and Militia were testing the waters. Lower, closer. Warmer, hotter. She smelled heavenly. His arm felt strong and firm beneath her grip. Yummy.
"What are you doing here, Sterling." Uh oh. Jaune and Militia could not pull back faster, sitting up straight as a Man interrupted their… 'hanky-panky'. Melanie rolled her eyes though kept a grip on Sterling's wrist; of course! Junior had to butt in while things were getting heated up. Thank you, Junior.
"Junior! Mon Ami! It has been too long!" He stretched his words. The mood was shot and internally, the silverette sighed. Business before pleasure.
"What brings you around here, Swirling?" A choked cough distracted them, staring at the source of the noise. The Huntsman-to-be was choking on his drink, all the while, Militia patted his back. "S-Sorry."
"Oh, you know moi! To see the sights, enjoy myself, moi Plaisir, biz-ness…" he trailed off, his hands turned in grandiose patterns through the air. His smug expression was matched by Junior's unamused face "Family."
"family or Family?" Of course, Jaune groaned. Sterling wasn't here just to see his missing cousin.
"Hmmmm. Why not both?"
"Get out." Jaune groaned. Audibly this time.
"What! But, like, Junior." The twins whined in unison.
"That's enough out of both of you! Go back to the bar." Militia obeyed with little argument, Melanie was more abrasive.
"Fine!" Best not to let the Boss look bad. Too much.
It was silent. In the way that pregnant women could be considered fat: a 'funny' technicality that was liable to get someone hurt.
"Archer. I don't need your caboose going off the rails here. Get out now, and I won't give you a beatdown. On the house." Jaune spotted a red handle that laid against the table. It reminded him too much of Beacon. Ah jeez! The boss of the joint was an ex-Huntsman too?! He was already thinking of ways to get the hell out and not come home with bruises and drained Aura pools. He made his displeasure known.
"Aww man, Sterling! Just once!" he leaned back in exhaustion. There went a good time and a Good Time. He wondered if he could still get that girl – Militia was her name? – scroll-number.
"I know." He shot a look at Jaune, before his eyes settled on Junior. His tongue clicked in thought. "Well, it was nice seeing you again at least." He shouldered past him, Jaune followed in short order. Stammering apologies, he left, though not before asking for Militia's number. He didn't. As they exited the club, 5 men got up from their table and made their way out.
All 5 men were in sight of Junior, as he went back to the bar. Of course! Wherever Archer went he brought trouble.
Sucked that he had to drag some poor pretty boy into it as well. Milita's would be heartbroken if pretty boy got his butt beat.
He went back to cleaning glasses.
Wasn't his problem.
Outside, the young men walked.
"Sterling." The young man kept on walking. His pace wasn't rushed but it certainly wasn't slow. The streets and buildings passed by; the moonlight broken by lampposts. His silver hair was being combed a bit too roughly. Sterling's fingers were threaded through fingerholes that served as a grip. It looked kind of like a switchblade.
"Sterling." The young man grumbled under his breath, Jaune could make out a few words. "Junior", "thanks a lot", "would have scored".
"STERLING!" The young man turned "What!?"
"What else are you here for? I'm not dumb enough to think that I'm the only reason you're here. If you're here on Familie Business, keep me out." Archer took a breath, his eyes roving around when they stopped. A forlorn grin snuck onto Archer's face.
"Well… looks like you don't got much of a choice, Jean." Ah darn it! Turning around he recognized who was following them. 5 club patrons dressed in suits, led by a stout lug of a man with thick hands that looked like they crushed stone. He was flanked by men in subdued colors and hats. One of them had some gnarly facial scars.
Jaune felt himself sigh for what felt like the hundredth time that night. His mind had switched off from enjoying the night; he stared while Sterling stood genially smiling, swaying to an invisible song. The group stopped a few feet before the duo, when the big lug that led the group spoke "Mr. Archer. Our employer wishes to speak with you." With what light was around, Jaune could make out a lapel pin. A brass tornado. The Golden Wind Association.
"Oh yeah? Well, tell you what. I'm busy at the moment so if we could reschedule." Scowls and deepened frowns spread across the faces of the Yakuza. Likewise, Jaune thought. He could make out that one of them in the back was putting on brass knuckles and another had slipped something into his hand. A knife? Okay. So, they had weapons and weren't afraid to use them.
"I see. It is a very urgent matter, Mr. Archer. It would not do your health any good if you do not come willingly." The Lug's eyes pierced into Jaune's. Well, that certainly made for a threat. Their eyes narrowed, and Jaune felt himself break out into an old routine. A few quick breaths to get the heart pumping, a few skips, stretching and swinging the arms to warm up, and picking out his targets. "We are willing to do many things. Please reconsider."
The Lug's cohorts began stepping forward: brass knuckles, batons, and a knife.
Archer's silvered hair had been slicked back sufficiently with a steel comb, The comb that swung-out from its grip had been slotted back into place. His fingers were slipped through the convenient fingerholes to get a better grip. Classic Sterling. A comb that was a knuckle duster. He shot Jaune a look, who matched it with his own hawk-like glare. He went out for drinks, got kicked out of a club, hadn't managed to get Militia's number, and was going to get into a fistfight with his cousin.
Well, this was certainly nostalgic…
"Just like old times..." Sterling's grin was matched by matched by Jaune's reluctant smile.
The cousins rushed the goons.
The goons charged, weapons brandished and roaring.
From their battleground, screams of pain, commands, and insults resounded.
"So…."
"So."
It was a comfortable lull in the early, darkened morning. The cousins laid down on the street, opposite of each other. They were sore. Who knew that these Golden Wind guys would have a bunch of buddies nearby? There had to be at least 50 guys laid out around them, whose bodies were bruised, bones more than likely broken, with their weapons strewn about; in equal state of 'used up', blades were blunted or snapped. Bats and batons had been tossed with extreme prejudice at mooks or 'into the sky'. More exotic weapons also laid about like chains, actual whips, a meteor hammer, shovels, staves, in a wall was a boomerang alongside shuriken and other throwing implements.
Wallets, lien, doodads, and knicknacks were also equally spread.
It was a surreal sight. It would have been grisly, considering the blood that had been flicked around, if it hadn't looked so vaudevillian.
"Kinkaze-Kai?" Sterling groaned, palming his face.
"Yeah… yeah… I uh… I got a job to do in Vale for a bit. Was in your neighborhood so…." That was without a doubt, a thing that Sterling would do.
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush?" Jaune couldn't see it, but Sterling nodded.
"Mmm. Mmm." There was a pregnant pause.
"It really has been good to see you again, Jaune." The fox eyed man couldn't help the smile that crept on his face.
"Mm?" Jaune shifted to face him.
"Yeah… the Familie has been pretty busy."
"You guys get in another gang war?"
"C'mon man, it's not like that."
"I doubt the Golden Winds would send a gangster squad after you if that were true."
Sterling made to say something. Nothing came out. Another pause.
"Something's happened. Hasn't it?"
The Archer couldn't hide the wince.
"…There was a car accident in Vacuo. Foul play: big old semi-truck with no driver rammed into a KK motorcade. Killed a bigshot."
That sounded like a setup. The Arc runaway couldn't help but thank the clear-cut morality of killing Grimm.
"Did you do it?"
"No. I don't know who did. But everyone thinks I did it." Sterling breathed deeply. "So, the KKK are gunning for me. Don Archer, of course, believes me. But he's sent me away for the meantime for my own protection." he let out a breath. "But you know Dad…"
Yeah, Uncle Nikolas was the kind of guy who would blend his breakfast together with his coffee, just to get to work quicker. Hell, the way he heard it. The man buried his soldiers in a mass grave just to save on space and cost. Not out of callous cruelty, 'Efficiency' he would claim.
"I really wish you wouldn't be a part of the Milieu, Sterling." Archer shrugged. His smile weak.
"And I really wish you had told me why you used one of my contacts to forge your transcripts." Jaune had the decency to flush. "Oh and Jean, what is zis aboot a Pee-rah Nee-kos, ah? I heard you are, sleeping, with each other."
Jaune weakly whacked Sterling who only continued laughing, louder now.
It was a goodnight all things considered. A good if incredibly strained night.
Just like old times
Just like old times.
From a distant windowsill, a Faunus looked through lens of a camera, it's sight focused on the two boys resting.
There he was.
Sterling Archer in the flesh. With a familiar cohort. Whose face lit up a memory.
There had been a period of time in Sterling's youth, his mid-adolescence when he had been involved in a kidnapping. That is to say, he had gone frantic in search of someone:
A blonde-haired, blue-eyed cherub of a teenager who had decided to play hero and rescue someone.
Lots of stories sprung up from that time. That a Huntsman commander had asked the Archer Familie to help search for his missing son. That some teenage punk had laid down a devious and grievous smackdown on some racist gangbangers. That the Goldstein and Goldberg families had given an honorary title and anointing upon someone.
The title was a real lofty name, like something from a storyboook… what was it?
Ah yes.
The Lion of Judah.
It was an impossible story: a no-named boy who had no aura had unlocked it in a desperate time, saved lives, beat the daylights of some bad guys, became intertwined with the Milieu, the Goldbergs and Goldsteins.
And to top it all off, no one knew his name.
There was a general description: tall, blonde, Caucasian, with blue eyes. With the only other defining characteristic being the boy's aura: like a white flame that shone from his body.
No one in the mainstream or ordinary world heard of this event. But deep in the underworld, between contacts, channels, onto tables, and through scroll-lines, the name was spread along with a warning:
Don't go messing with the Goldsteins or Goldbergs, or else the Lion of Judah will rip you to shreds.
Everyone knew that the Lion of Judah had never killed but… the number of those hospitalized in a week was just as much as a frightening. But some did not seem to get the memo.
The Kinkaze-Kai had been looking for the Lion, sleuthing around, trying to figure out who he was, where he was. For what purpose? No one knew.
But people were quick to get them to stop.
From what Francine saw, this boy – no… Young man – could very well be the Lion of Judah. Another name that connected the Archer Familie with the KKK, the Vacuoan Mob, with Huntsmen (potentially). Now connected to her own story.
She took a photo of the boy. She'd do what she could to find out who he was. He was definitely a denizen of Vale and from how well he handled himself in a street brawl. He wouldn't be too out of place as a Huntsman. What better place to check than Beacon?
Already a plan was forming in her mind.
There was a trigger point there. The camaraderie between the Silver Fox and this (possible) Lion of Judah had been very clear in that. If she couldn't convince Sterling to tell her what she wanted well…
She chewed on her protein bar mechanically.
Soon she told the ghosts that haunted her dreams. Soon they would have their peace.
At least she hoped they would.
Sleep did not come easily for Francine.
Unlike it did for Sterling and Jaune.
=0=0=0=
AUTHORS NOTE
This is a story that is loosely inspired by Ryu no Gotoku/Like a Dragon or as we know it in the West, "Yakuza". This is nothing more than a one shot. A sort of drabble to see how I could weld elements of Like A Dragon with Yakuza. A test pitch, gauging how well a story could evolve from the premise.
As indicated by this title, will be a first in a series of one-shots. Some related. Some unrelated. Either way, the starting gun has been fired and I hope to at least have some fun with this premise.
-X-X-X-
This story in particular is focused on the fact that "Archer" is derived from "arcus". To me it made sense that a derivative of the nuclear "Arc" family line would change names and go their own way. The story would take a Yakuza 0 and Yakuza 1 approach to the relationship between Sterling and Jaune, akin to Nishiki and Kiryu, two bash-brothers and borderilne. The storyline would be focused on how an 'original' storyline would impact the main story, before there would be some reveals of interconnections and links, as any good Yakuza game has. Culminating in a shirtless fist fight between Sterling Archer and Jaune Arc, on a rooftop, doing Heat Moves, and showing off tattoos