The rain was downright torrential, and that made Cinder unhappy.
The sidewalk had almost become a river from the safehouse out to the park, and her boots had proved themselves inadequate. She'd bought a cheap plastic poncho from a local convenience store, but it honestly wasn't enough. She was still drenched, and she'd probably need a fresh change of clothes. Whatever. Going out in the rain was trivial. What was important was this.
She stopped at a rusting blue mailbox. The black sigil on its side was rapidly fading in the rain, but the nearby wet cigar ash told her that her contact had been there, which meant the mailbox contained his dead drop — this one would be a report on the local Dust stores and their vulnerabilities.
The envelope was at the top, and it had her code name scrawled in messy handwriting.
She clutched it close to her chest as she walked back to the safehouse.
Cinder shut the door, secured both the lock and the deadbolt. She fumbled and shuffled off her poncho. She tossed the folder on the cluttered table before retreating to the bedroom and changing into an old t-shirt and loose pants.
The safehouse was dingy and somewhat gross, but the landlady didn't ask questions and the rent was low enough. There were no shoes at the door, which meant Emerald and Mercury were out right now.
She put on a pot of water and tossed a pack of instant noodles, "chicken flavored," in before grabbing the envelope and tearing it open.
It was indeed the reports she was looking for.
The issue is that most Dust stores kept good inventory and had very robust security. A few years ago, before the Schnee Dust Company had solidified their monopoly, that wouldn't have mattered; these days, additional security was borderline mandated by the Schnees if anyone didn't want to pay a wealth of additional fees.
Which left her with the task of robbing people that the SDC was already robbing. It wasn't particularly nice.
The water came to a boil behind her. She quickly stepped over and stirred the noodles.
The Dust was necessary. She needed it to give to the White Fang — Adam Taurus had rejected her initial offer of simple cooperation, which meant she would either have to placate him or drive him to submission.
She methodically broke up the block of noodles.
Driving Adam Taurus to submission was unfeasible and nigh impossible. It'd take a miracle to get him to submit to even another Faunus, but his level of hatred for humans would mean she'd be fighting an uphill battle. But if she came bearing gifts, that changed things. One good take from a heist like this would be more than enough to get him to, at the least, hear her out.
She dumped the now-soft noodles into a bowl and set another pile of papers aside to make room for her bowl before sitting down with her meal.
Cinder grabbed the reports again and a small note card popped out.
7pm, my place — Mr. Orange.
Bring your friends.
She grumbled before chowing down on her food, reaching for her Scroll to tell Em and Merc to hurry back.
Mister Orange was Roman Torchwick.
Roman Torchwick was a self-styled gentleman thief. From Cinder's personal experience, the "gentleman" was a misnomer. He was rather flashy, too, which didn't make her like him either. But her plans required an expert thief and Emerald had little skills beside lockpicking and pickpocketing. This sort of thing required someone who understood robbery on a deeper level.
His townhouse was barely on what was considered the upper side of town.
"I don't trust him," Emerald said as they approached the door.
"I don't either," Cinder said, knocking sharply three times.
Roman opened the door and let them in. She could see the single-shot pistol tucked into his sleeve, in addition to the cane in his other hand.
"Right on time," Roman said. "I assume you burned the papers?"
"Of course," Cinder said.
Roman folded his arms. "So what are you looking at?"
"From Dust Till Dawn has absurdly low security," Cinder began. "They carry a variety of Dust types and have the largest stockpile a non-SDC store carries in all of Vale."
"I'd thought you might go for that," Roman said, lighting a cigar. "Newer Dust stores are built like banks. This one's the last holdout from the old days. Easy money. Let's talk planning."
It took mere moments for Roman to unfurl a small map down on the dining table. "This is the area surrounding the store," Roman said.
Emerald cocked her head to the side to see it from another angle. "I assume the back is more heavily guarded."
"You've got it," Roman grumbled. "If we're going to do this, it's gonna be loud."
"Then you have another plan," Cinder said.
"We do it old fashioned." Roman smirked, tipping his hat. "We go in with masks and unmarked guns, demand everything, haul it off."
Mercury frowned. "Escape route?"
"I know someone," Roman said. "My own personal getaway artist."
The parking garage was barren at this hour. The sun had long since sunk below the horizon and most stores were preparing to close.
"Hello, hello, hello," Roman said.
"You said you would bring a driver," Emerald said.
"Indeed I did," Roman said, in that decidedly obnoxious showboating manner. "This is her: Neopolitan, also known as Neo."
Neo, a slip of a girl carrying an umbrella, waved a friendly hello.
"Can she see over the wheel?" Mercury asked, deadpan.
Neo's hand went up in a decidedly less friendly gesture.
"We've worked together for years," Roman said. "Found her trying to nab the hubcaps off a car I'd already boosted. She drives, she fights, she's handy for getaways."
"She'll do, Emerald." Cinder tilted her head to see past Roman. "Good choice of car," she said, gesturing to the sedan.
Roman took out three bags from the trunk of the car. "These duffel bags are what we'll be using to haul the goods. Your shotguns will be concealed in them, too. You'll find some plastic bags in there, that's what we'll be loading the powdered Dust into. Use the side pockets for the crystals. Got it?"
"Got it," the three said at once.
Rolling up across from the store was easy.
"Right," Cinder said, hesitantly. "Everyone, masks and sunglasses on."
They did so, and they exited the car, each swinging around to the trunk where the duffel bags were kept.
Cinder let out a series of shuddering breaths. This was necessary. It was the first step to bringing down the tyranny of Ozpin and Ironwood. This one heist would set everything in motion for her and her tiny band of rebels.
She grabbed the duffel bag. She walked toward the store. Emerald opened the door and Cinder walked through it.
Roman threatened the old man at the register and he began to take the Dust crystals out from their case. Roman directed her to quickly load up bags with powdered Dust.
She unzipped the bag and wrapped it around the nozzle of the dispenser. She pulled the lever and let it pour out.
Cinder looked at the shopkeeper. He was old. She could barely see his eyes. He'd likely lived in Vale for years, and he'd probably worked here for nearly as long.
She was growing increasingly nauseated from the smell of the powdered Dust. She zipped up the first bag and prepared a second.
This was a bad thing to do. She should have gone with an SDC-owned store. The Schnee were emblematic of the corruption and decay of Remnant. Right now she was stealing from an elderly man. It did not feel good, even when she said the revolution needed these supplies.
This would be tainted money at best. The superstitious side of her called it cursed gold; gold that she could never enjoy.
She swallowed down her nausea and zipped up the second bag.
Mercury Black, meanwhile, had found his way to the back of the store. From Dust Till Dawn also, in fact, carried some amount of weapon creation and maintenance tools. And he kinda wanted a new toolset.
He turned a corner and came face-to-back with a tiny girl in a red cloak, reading a magazine.
"Oi," he said gruffly, hefting his sawn-off shotgun at her. When that failed to break her concentration, he jabbed her with the barrel. "You got a death wish or something?"
The girl in red turned and looked down at the barrel. Then she looked up at Mercury, taking her headphones off.
Her simple question was: "Are you robbing me?"
Mercury nodded and said, "Yes."
Cinder had to say, things went south fast. She could tell because Mercury went flying through a plate glass window.
"Uh," Roman said, finishing sliding the crystals into his bag.
Cinder sealed her third bag of Dust, tossed it into her duffel bag, and stood at the broken window. This much Dust would have to be enough, she considered.
She watched a gleaming scythe unfold by the light of the moon. The girl in red slammed the blade of her weapon into the ground; the asphalt cracked under it.
"Get to the car," Roman said.
Cinder and Emerald ran for it.
The girl seemed to fly through the air, using her scythe to anchor her firmly in the ground. Cinder found the breath taken directly from her lungs as the girl's boots slammed into her chest.
She was then laying face down, and she could see Roman subtly motioning for her to keep down.
"Well, Red, it's been a lovely evening," Roman called out.
Cinder slowly crawled toward the getaway car. Emerald and Mercury had already made it.
Roman twirled his cane and rushed in toward the girl. She parried his telegraphed cane strike, took the brunt of his bare handed smack, and narrowly evaded his gunshot.
Cinder didn't pause to gawk. She rose, ignoring the sharp pain in her lungs, and ran toward the car before diving into the backseat. Roman was right behind her, clambering into the passenger seat. Neo threw the car into reverse, swinging around and slamming it into drive.
The back window exploded in a shower of glass, and a sudden jolt told them their car had lost one of its tires. A cacophony of sirens warned Cinder of incoming police.
"You've got this?"
Neo nodded twice before taking the car on a sharp turn into an alleyway. She slammed through a set of boxes and blew out into a busy street.
"Three of them," Roman said. "Directly behind."
Neo checked her rear-view before driving over the median and into oncoming traffic, swerving past a large van and taking a turn onto a bridge. She gunned it and soon enough they were among shoddy apartments and dark alleys.
"This is the bad side of town," Mercury commented absently, poking his bruised chest.
"No shit," Emerald replied. "You think the police will stop to beat up some Faunus kids?"
Mercury chuckled. It did not hide his fear.
"Punch it," Roman said.
Neo shrugged and attempted to oblige. She drifted around another corner and slipped into a parking spot. Outside, an illusory car sped by, drawing the police past them.
"Excellent," Roman said, sighing. "Neo, take us home."
They'd ditched the car, driven to Roman's apartment, split up, and ended up at Cinder's place. They'd worked to clear off the table of its junk quickly and dumped the contents of their duffel bags onto the table.
All told, the Dust was practically spilling onto the floor.
"Shit," Roman said, looking at it. "I didn't think we grabbed that much, not with Little Red there."
Emerald was salivating behind him.
"Twenty-seven Large crystals, forty-nine medium, and seventy-two small," Roman said, reading from the inventory. "A kilogram of powdered Fire Dust, three hundred grams Gravity, et cetera, et cetera, holy shit, this is a lot."
"Good haul," Mercury said, holding an ice pack to his head.
"Cuts," Roman said. "We'd agreed that Neo and I get forty percent of the total."
"Right," Cinder said. "Emerald, Mercury, and I will be taking seven percent each, and the remainder is being offered to the White Fang as compensation."
"Risky," Roman muttered with a smirk. "I've worked with animals before. You don't know how feral they can get."
"The White Fang has manpower and resources," Cinder replied. "They're vital to all of this."
"Hey, I'm just being real," Roman said.
Cinder glanced to Neo; she frowned and shrugged.
The White Fang encampment, located a couple hours out of Vale, was tinged with a level of perpetual exhaustion and suffering.
Cinder understood the way they looked at her. Mercury and Emerald flanked her, but the trio attracted stares for being the only humans in the camp.
The large tent where Adam managed camp was half war room, half meeting room. Adam Taurus's eyes were hidden behind his mask, but Cinder could tell he was unhappy from the way he was unnaturally reclined.
"Your presence is tolerated," he began, "but I'm afraid that your request will be denied once again, human. And I'm not in the mood for negotiations."
"We merely come with a gift," Cinder said, kneeling and placing a bag onto the low Mistralian-style table. "High quality Dust."
Adam turned his head to look at the Dust, his hand stretching out to grasp it. He opened the bag and felt the Dust with his fingertips carefully before resealing it.
"This isn't cheap," he concluded, finally looking at Cinder. "You're quite serious this time."
"Undoubtedly," Cinder said.
"I have two stipulations, if you seek to use my forces for a human cause," Adam said, rising to a kneel. "First, you are going to eliminate a traitor. His name is Tukson. From what I've gathered, he lives in Vale now."
"It will be done," Cinder said. "And?"
"As I said before, there are two stipulations," Adam said. "A...lover of mine left me. You will track her down. Her name is Blake Belladonna, and she bears the ears of a feline."