The Clean Sweep (RWBY Noir AU)
Chapter 1 - We have to start somewhere...
The rain was coming down like God and Monty Oum were having a tap dancing competition. Never had I been gladder to have a nice, dry roof over my head and a nice, dry martini in my hand. I checked the time, wondering when the appointments for the day would show up, and I could start with what I was either lucky or unlucky enough to call my job. 7:59, assuming my beaten-down excuse for a watch was on time. It was too quiet, something was missing.
"I'm here, sir," a timid little voice floated in from under the door before it opened. There we go. Miss Scarlatina, my secretary. She was a couple minutes late from her usual check-in. Probably some street trash poking fun at her ears as if she didn't have enough problems in life. I'd have liked nothing more than to chop some of them into cheap mystery meat, but Velvet insisted she was a grown woman and could handle her own meat-chopping.
Dust on a doughnut, I forgot to introduce myself. Name's Jaune Arc. Amateur boxer, former Vale Police Department, and now private eye. Not your usual resume, but I haven't lived a usual life.
I was getting antsy like my old police captain, "Professor" Oobleck after his morning coffee-flavored cocaine. I could have sworn I had an appointment or two that day...
"Velvet, what about those appointments I had this morning?" I asked, hoping for a nice break to the monotony.
"Let's see... First one cancelled this morning, third woman called in sick, and I've been calling the second, but he won't respond," she called back, opening the door to the cave I called an office. She was dressed in her usual style: a white blouse with enough starch in it to make it bulletproof, black pencil skirt, sheer hosiery, and a low pair of heels, the kind that a woman could actually expect to run a few steps in without falling flat on her mug. Eyes the color of melted chocolate, with a pair of red browline glasses protecting them. Long brown hair pulled back into a modest ponytail and two furry ears the size of my grandpa's old slippers poking out the top finished the look. Velv was easy enough on the eyes, and plenty competent at her job. She could have doubtlessly earned better than what I paid her, but I wasn't about to give her any ideas.
"That was the guy who got in trouble with the Torchwick gang, right?"
"Yes, but... oh. You don't think he'll be calling us back." Her tone dropped like its wings had been clipped, already putting two and two together. Her ears drooped a bit too, kinda like my mother's ferns when she forgot to water them. She solemnly pulled my door closed, mourning the man she had only met once to schedule the appointment.
"I'd love the surprise, doll, but I'm not betting on it." I sighed. The only office I could afford was in the part of town the tour guides didn't bother talking about, so people didn't bother looking me up until they were truly up the creek. And if most of my cases were up a creek, pissing off Roman Torchwick was like sailing up the creek, then shooting a few holes in your boat for good measure. I offered him a walk-in slot instead, but the patsy insisted he was safe for the time being.
It's like my old man always said, you can lead a horse to water, but it will still won't tell you how it really feels, and you'll have to keep track of a stupid horse in addition to all your other problems. My old man was never quite right in the head after the war. Lucky for me, my soliloquy got cut off by some commotion out front.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but Mr. Arc is busy right now, and surely your problem can wait until-oof!"
The door flew open, and I finally saw the woman who had derailed my train of thought. And what a derailment she was. She had a fine set of legs peeking out from her shiny gold dress, but it was the rest of her curves that drew the eye. The cut of her clothing left just enough to the imagination to keep it busy, but showed just enough to give it plenty of material. I could tell from her whole being-the dress, the blond hair like a gold waterfall down her back, the fading smirk of satisfaction- this was a woman who got what she wanted, and if you didn't just give it to her, she'd take it by force. I recognized her off of the tabloids that they sold by my favorite coffee stand.
"Miss Yang Xiao Long to see you, sir," Velvet added, sheepishly trying to do what was left of her job.
My new visitor, and hopefully new client, grabbed a chair and sat down, smirking like a cat in a house full of canaries. Town gossip had Xiao Long rubbing elbows with all kinds of ne'er-do-wells and scoundrels, especially the local Triad, so why she came to me for help instead of her friends in high places was anyone's guess.
"So, you're the great detective?" she asked with some doubt, probably imagining a grizzled hardass with a five-o-clock shadow instead of little old clean-shaven me.
"Well, it says so on my door, so it must be true," I replied, offering her a cigarette from my stash in the drawer. She lit up like she was practicing for some kind of post-traumatic Olympics.
"Forgive me for being skeptical, but the police can't do anything for me, and... and..." She leaned up close to me, and I could see her eyes were full of fear like a mouse who just ran into a corner. I just tried to focus on her eyes instead of the generous view her dress was providing me. Let's just say I remembered that preacher from when I was a kid talking about 'the valley of the shadow of death,' and I finally understood what he was talking about.
"I'm scared, Mr. Arc. Like I've never been scared before."
Author's Notes: And so it begins. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the private detective, and this little story idea kept growing until I had to share it with the rest of the world. Hopefully at least a few of you will find some enjoyment out of this.
Don't have a lot of notes to give right now, and I will probably use these spaces to answer any serious criticisms that people think of. But remember this is an Alternate Universe, and a lot of the characters have been seen through a mirror—identical in some ways, but flipped in others.
And as one last disclaimer, I've never claimed to be a good writer, so any resemblance to actual skill or wit here is probably coincidental. But if you like what you see, leave some constructive criticism, follow, favorite, tell your friends/enemies/strangers, and welcome aboard.