The Waifu Collector

by Kohoi

Jaune Arc respects women, that's why he avoids both them and society. Yucky. However, when a spirit inside his head commands him to atomize the female gender, sanity forces obligation.

20. Hear No Thottie? See No Thottie

This story will end one day, over the rainbow. Also dont mind the constant notifications, I'm gonna be going back and editing everything.

---

Their walk home wasn't talkative.

Weird, incredibly weird. Only several hours prior could they've been seen hanging side to side, as socially inept best buddies, with far too little perspective on the fact they've little in the way of safe environment. Dark and dreary Vale nights weren't things to joke unwisely about, yet they did so with impunity. Something Jaune only now realizes in the oddly quiet girl's presence.

He tested it, squeezing her hand, smiling to honestly calm himself more than anything. "Hey, ya know what's interesting?"

Velvet blinked, then grinned, nodding enthusiastically. Unfamiliar to the shy girl he's used to. It's like Ruby in the body of a dark-brown haired Faunus Pyrrha, mixed in with Weiss's cool. Whatever foodstuff was in those vegan shakes, he'll note, however, that he's planning to avoid drinking anymore non-dairy creamy ungoodness, for his own sake.

The general vegan perception already confirmed a mental bias to him, and as he loves acting on assumptions and biases, Jaune D'Arc will go on recording saying that consuming nothing but plants is a dangerous ballpark. Unless if its cultural or whatever.

Velvet, though? He couldn't change her weird food preferences, yet he could silently theorize the origins of her weird behavior.

Including that glossy eyes look of interest she's given him, the way her pupils dilated in complete inhumanely fascinated fashion, like the primal Faunus instincts he sometimes suspects are laid within just popped out and came to party. Only it's not rabbit instincts making all this curiosity, but some hidden carnivorous ancestors that she neglected to inform him about due to embarrassment.

Which would make sense, much more so than this.

He scratched his scalp. "I'm pretty sure...uh...the shakes were churned with soy. Like a soy ice cream mixture." More silence, he felt his enthusiasm curb itself second-to-second. "...Do you like soy?"

Velvet nodded, happily skipping along with his strut across the bullhead docks, ignoring any and all sights about them for little identifiable reason.

Jaune stared at her chipper demeanor, and checked the perimeter curiously, finding no abnormalities presenting themselves to distrust the Aura balance within his mind. At least, none the moments current.

Jaune didn't like the quiet, yet the closeness of the bullheads did something good for his nerves, and so too the-confusing, yet familiar-feel of Velvet's hand gripping his own in a tight wind. Simple things causing simple comforts helped to deal with the stresses of making sure they reached the last bullhead flight of the night.

Twelve o'clock sharp is when they stopped, or in other words, nearly twenty minutes from now.

Eventually, they made it down to the main port, seeing their requested ride-which apparently was a thing, he didn't know until Velvet texted it out to him, for reasons he also didn't know-at the edge of their port area. Nicely done up and blinking with a soft red light on the front, ready for their conventional take off. He sped up, taking his quiet Velvet in tow.

He says quiet, but it's more like silently discombobulated. She usually doesn't do these quirky things, it made her seem almost crazy. As if she's this psycho girl with good looks and an innate ability to keep herself limited to nonverbal interaction.

But that's his unfounded suspicion after twenty minutes of her not properly answering his occasionally joke or question. So in fulfillment of that, he'd better off assume Velvet's shyness was temporally flushed down the non-rabbit hole with her ice creamed pee-pee fluids, leaving the Coco-ness deep inside to manifest into semi antisocial traits of childishness and silence.

Once again, really weird seeing Velvet happily fart on down the dock besides him. Looking extra girly in that summer dress she's rocking, yet...

A small smile crawled atop his features, fondly watching his Bun-Bun go, coming to a complete stop a solid ten or so feet away from their-once again, according to Velvet-easy way home. Turning the girl to him, and putting all that earnestness garnered throughout the unspoken date-night into Velvet's unfettered cup for once.

Intrigued chocolate brown meet redemptive oceanic blue, and Jaune spoke, over the din of silent metal parts whirring and clicking their blinkers behind them. "Hey, so I've...really enjoyed tonight, and all the movies and stuff..."

He scratched his neck, averting eye contact partially out of convenience, and also loose nerves, Velvet just kept a' staring. "Really hope to do this again, with you. Often I have a hard time...uhm, expressing my satisfaction for the little things here and there."

That's a good truism, yet the delivery was warped by his nervousness, but at least he morbidly notices it, though. "I'm also loving the general city aethstetic, really broadens that perspective on the world's expansiveness, and..."

He licked his lips. "Also kinda scary looking, when I start to really think about it. Could you imagine the dozens of thousands of crimes committed upon these streets? Much more than at Ansel, I tell ya..."

Velvet blinked, then beamed.

...

He gulped, looking towards the blinker marking their exit. "A-anyways, let's head in, yeah? Coco probably thinks we're doing something-"

Suddenly, flesh met his.

Soft, almost sugary sweet tenderness meshing itself against his suprised lips, chocolatey hair cascading around his vision in wavy comfort. Yet the kiss enraptured him the most, and almost immediately, Jaune felt himself relax into the surprise contact. Pulling her supple Bun-Bun body in for extra closure.

They stood there, in silence, nothing but passion and little grunts masked in a view of one man and woman. He liked it a lot, especially the tight Bun-Bun booty squished firmly under his grabby hands. Muted squeals of pleasure gracing his red-tipped ears, the uncertainty from a quietly dreary environment just...numbing itself in Velvet's warmth. And thighs, which rutting against his leg eagerly.

His secret sins flared up at that idle realization, yet for his own personal self-worth, he didn't acknowledge them. After all...

Life was good, and he made sure she knew it, squeezing nicely hard, pulling his kissing buddy off a bit. Looking into the eagerly-albeit still oddly glossed over-attentive eyes of Velvet Scarlatina. She seemed almost enthusiastic in pursuit of his mouth, climbing his leg mountain style, like Ruby's more affectionate lovey moments.

Her taller body kinda made the glomping harder to-

Wait. Hold on...that's not brown hair, not com...

Jaune started, and found himself being leg-humped by that multi-colored terrorist girl from last semester. Connecting the eager-pychopathic weirdo with a tiny-tight body's dots.

Somehow, he's been duped for the last several hours, and now probably face-smushed with his enemy's crazy compatriot for little reason or incentive beside coochie acquirement. A bruh moment cocked and thighed from the heavens, a unproductively tender display of Chad attraction making his sexual market value so fucking lit, even terrorists would desire the Arc shaft.

A certain numbness crawled over him, much like the attempt this woman-Neo, if he remembered the reports saying-practically engaged in somewhat consensual sexual assault, to please her inner crazy bitch desires.

And potentially him, another rebellious section of Jaune's hormonal moral landscape added.

She's come far enough to instigating a surprise sexy times session, yet there's no violent oppression upon him in the immediate wake of Chad prowess tooting to life. But there's a salt-grain he'll have to chug-jug like alcohol, because once again, a probable murderer and clingy nightmare women wanted to engage him sexually.

...

His pee-pee was very hard.

Yet the adamant reminder the finely dressed knee nudging his bulge belonged to a murderous demon-who might've just merc'd Velvet-brought him to reality. Merely a gateway to seeing his hormonal bizarro time be properly buttfucked, however, as finely dressed gangsters piled out the bullhead in mass to future mock Jaune's ignorance.

Red ties and pitch black suits, all in accordance with one another sharply.

They crowded around him, guns drawn for violent subjagation should he choose to fuckall kamakaize himself and see how quickly he could Ruby-semblance off into the distance. Which, even in his addled mind of confused boner-lust, seemed highly plausible all things considered.

He felt his gloved hand twitch bubbly white glory underneath. Ready to become Chad not just in the womanization-fuck The Brine's stupid bullshit-process, but also in the physical dominance aspect pertaining to beating up the people he didn't like.

Or finds immoral. Whatever justifies his somewhat deflated penis length and lack of holy vagina to potentially take fleshy enjoyment in, as he's unsure whether or not to comfort in entertaining a sexy-time session with a murder person-he really should stop glossing over this issue, fucks sake-that's only seeable redeeming qualities were the highly attractive quality porcelain looks she maintained.

Well...The Brine was fucking dead, so whose to say he can't enjoy himself at least once? The fear still was crippling, but his testicular victory charts were telling him good hormonal things-

Until Roman, in a lazy strut, hopped down into his position, grinning ear to ear. Standing on a throwaway rafter, cane casually swung to and from his palm's own gloved glory. "It seems your date has gotten an upgrade, huh?"

Neo beamed at her handler, and-still making little grunting noises choke out his throat, as that knee worked fucking wonders-typed something out on her scroll. Roman smiled, and strut closer, never roaming those eyes away from Jaune's. Smugness dripping out his grimey crime-causing countenance.

"You know, Arc." The thief said, clearing his men away a few feet off, his cane theatrically rutting against the hardstone below. "I've thought about you lately, the finely unfucked fuck that you are." That grin made his wee-wee wanna shrink. "Our little chats, and coming to blows not long ago, have mainly been the cause."

Jaune grunted, glaring firstly at Roman, then at the tiny terror poking his breast and shoving her little scroll in his face. A word document that contained nothing but a text message:

Did you like that?

"No." He lied, ignoring the guilt-spike meshed into his chest. "You're a wolf in sheep's clothing."

Pouting, indignantnese. She typed again.

I'm a master of seduction, you couldn't possibly deny my body against yours.

"..." He breathed, cupped his face, then smacked his cheeks. Glaring again at Roman, whose smugness could've poisoned the goddamn well water. "I don't know why you want me right now, or why Neo here is trying to seduce me with unconsenting cock-touching." He felt irritation skyrocket. "Velvet's dead body is probably in the back of the fucking vegan ice cream shop, rotting away while you bozos decide to elaborately capture and beat me until I'm not useful anymore." The guards shuffled around, he felt Neo lean into his side a bit more. "Well? Am I right?"

The cigar came from somewhere, yet Jaune knew not. Only the fact Roman staring smoking his lungs out not three seconds before Jaune could even comprehend his own coherent speech. Emerald eyes drawled their displeasure at him, filtered by a later of toxic smoke. "Your Bunny friend is alive, and we're not here to beat you senseless," then a pause, Roman's gaze looking up.

"...Yet."

Jaune glared, Roman rolled his eyes.

"Ah, don't give me that shit, kid." A crusty chuckle. "I'm joking! Promise. Only interested in pulling you over for a talk. Just something to...let's say..." the thief's hands jazzed out. "Refresh our palette! Get ourselves fairly in acquaintance with one another, so that you'll understand the folly of Huntsmenism."

He stared, Roman chuckled again. "You have no choice either way, Arc brat. I'm hoping to address all the stressful hubbub going on in my professional dust-thieving life."

Roman puffed some more smokes. "...Apparently thanks to your institution. In a way that gets this Arcbound annoyance off my mind, and out Melodic Cudgal's federal-government-defying barrel! And besides..."

The cane thunked Jaune on the forehead, much to the young man's annoyance, and Neo's muted conflict. "Neo here has a fetish for 'flexing' on foolish men such as yourself, a femme fatale with silent abandon!" There was a flare, highly exaggerated.

Neo stopped fumbling over her own mind then, glaring at her handler annoyedly.

Roman shrugged. "What? I said it right. Now go harass the minor. Be happy acting's my second nature, you'll have to pay up for further service next time."

She, unsurprisingly, nodding eagerly. Understanding some sarcasm-level Jaune couldn't comprehend with current emotional ambush-pressure, thanks to being fucking ambushed, weighing a sack of gangly shitbricks on his subcouncious.

A comparatively hefty bosom glomped itself against him, it brought a feeling of comfort, though guilty apparent. She was a short stack, yet on her tippy toes...twas worth mentioning, at least for his boobie-appreciating hormone's sake.

He felt his asscheeks clench in morbid uncertainty.

Also, there was the scroll, shes face-assaulting him with it again.

I never lose. I'm a queen in every single way.

The determination in her childish glare was mind-numbing , and cock un-numbing, much to the shadowy echoes of The Brine's respect women talk in his mind, and the negative emotions those invoked.

He raised a brow. "Oh yeah? What makes you royal in the eyes of men?"

...huh, that made her eyes sparkle, wha-

My hands may cohere a blade...

Her umbrella was unsheathed, and singularly pouted in a more bladed form towards his jugular, a devilishly eye-catching smirk crept atop her features, pearly white canines sharp. Almost doggedly interesting. The scroll was still a' tapping.

Yet...I've much experience with ALTERNATIVE pleasures of the flesh...ones much more...mindful of acquired tastes.

Jaune blinked, not even caring about all the potential maiming this kidnapping stupidly entailed. It's overly ridiculous and made his mind hurt. "What tastes...?"

Neo stepped back, eyes smugly shut, and breathed in.

In an acrobatically majestic display of dexterity, Neo hurled her right leg up high. Without any prior stretches or second guessing, only the humbling sight of one short stack-on her tippy toes-managing to propel that thick drumstick all the way atop his chest.

More so, actually. Her high heeled foot-shiny white, without any socks-rested comfortably against his collarbone. From ankle to knee cap, she smashed her unreasonably sexual body against his front mercilessly, eyes coming to life with their contact. Forms meshed together in a way Jaune couldn't even comprehend prior to watching this woman come onto him. The way thighs squeezed their tight chambers, and delicately uncovered feet just presented themselves so closely. The smell, and-

Tapping again. A look of purely gluttonous lust on the psycho seductress's face.

Some men enjoy the warmth of loving embrace, of squishing molds overtaking their inhibitions, forcing their beings to release distress into the tenderness. Every. Last. Drop. Until the warmth saps the man dry. Until the thighs take his spirit and pride.

"N-no..."

The fleshy leggings squeezes, her warmth outlining itself every so slightly, an invasive wet splotch hidden underneath. All of it, however, mere inches from his member, the fabrics rubbing canally close.

Neo's mouth widened in a pleasantly mute gasp, Roman grumbling his annoyance in the background.

If you praise your queen, I will let you lose yourself in them, without restraint. I simply want your praise...

Jaune looked at the kinky roleplay invitations, then at the displaced gang members deciding to stop watching a sexual molestation take place and fart around the docks. He also meet Roman's gaze, seeing the age-lines crinkled in annoyance past the cigar smoke.

"Yeah, have fun kid." Roman grunted, puffing another fat one. "She's told me lots of sex stories, most of them brutal."

Idly, Jaune felt Neo's drumstick mesh almost completely vertical against him.

He gulped, and remembered something. A snippet of rationality in a world of sexual stimulation. The Brine's final echo to respect women and-

Wait, if he's praising the queen...then...

...

...

...

Oh, FUCK. That's an idea, that's a fantastic idea! Jaune felt all rational proclivity commit seppuku, in an aggressively stupid way, because...

Jaune shuddered, looking into Neo's eyes, curiosity on his tongue. "Thighs, you'll let me have...?"

She NODDED. She was wet and she nodded. His masculinity brain chemicals were rubbing happy circles into his shoulders.

Yep, this was fine, this was so fine he felt fully hardened. The maximum arc dongage coming to fruition, Neo's expressive lust only intensifying at the smushed contact. Their body's separated by only their flimsy high quality fighting gear. "You're serious? Roman didn't put you up to this?"

From behind his beaming psycho fetish momma, Jaune found Roman's constant grumpiness, and he even 'tch'd' at the boy from afar! It was true! "Just continue, kid. Neo wanted to seduce you for her own amusements, which I'm not even surprised by. Never was..."

Ooooooooooooooooooooookay! That's epic, fuck. Holy shit, his chadness was in the process again, a guardian angel ready to deliver him the utmost highest quality of potential suitors both his head so desired! The hard work is finally paying off, in the evident reality of his personal competence! The amount of times he'd have pissed on The Brine's grave in this moment is absolutely in the thousands!

Fuck the goddamn skeleton man! He's dead and Jaune D'Arc was right! He'll never not be satisfied with the word as is because he's a harem protagonist and the world always pivots itself towards his confident victory!

Haha yes! Jaune beamed to the heavens, basking in the afterglow of his well deserved epic own age of the shitty man he once was! His life might not be exclusively sex and it's ours it but damn if it's not a major focus!

So, Jaune gripped Neo's hips tight, living on a wave of sheer hormonal dominance, letting everything good about himself get to his head, as it's never harmed in the past. A confident Arc grin, in all its objectively sexually desirable glory, bloomed upon his face, and for Neo's blooming pleasure. "Yeah, I'll praise you, I'll praise the hell out of you."

Neo blinked, looked him over, then bore a slight grin of her own.

For some reason, Roman perked up at the movements, yet Jaune didn't know-

Pain. Hatefully punishing pain, that devolved into a familiar feeling of his ball-sack getting brutally adjusting by way physics aiding in malevolence. Neo's slutty knee quite literally fucked him over, burying itself into the boy's no-no zone at speeds both Aura enhanced and reinforced. Feelings deconstructed her positivity, and in the wake of rampant ability-confidence to acquire women, Jaune D'Arc has found himself sorely acquiring something else.

As he fell to the floor, wheezing much like the skeleton man he cursed, Jaune realized how fucking stupid he was. The darkness swirled underneath his vision, and Neo leaned materialistically over him, arms wrapped tightly across his neck. Preparing to choke him unconscious, no doubt.

Lesson possibly learned, Jaune nodded, feeling a slithering tongue bat his tender earlobe, muted delight bringing the darkness temporarily to him again.

Sometimes being a chad meant total fuck-ups, yeah?

...ehhhh, Jaune could barely see Roman's pitying frown, as the darkness faded them all away, but he knew one thing for sure.

Thighs were said to save lives, and as he felt tightly thick ones wrap themselves across his waist from behind, Jaune realized that no, they do fucking not.

/-/

"Aaaaa...aaa."

His eyes opened, and the scenery appeared to be…-

Oh hey, it's the bar he found to potentially be smuggled into school and alcoholism, though the latter illegality only partial.

He's always harboured a desire for huntsmanship, and that didn't change over his personal development as a waifu collector. But who's to say Jaune shouldn't enjoy a little indulgence of consumption before it all? Experience that early year liver failure all the rage in a meaningful society.

Also figured if he's able to die on the battlefield, slogging it out against hell-beasts, why shouldn't the authority compliant slayer of evil be joyful of the finer things in life? Once again, alcohol especially among them.

Unfortunately though, Jaune remembered the bearish fucker behind the bar denying him an ounce of day black out juice goodness, yet let him smuggle some transcripts! Fucking dumb.

Still though, he's rationally glad for the enforced abstinence. Rubes and Pyr shouldn't be smooching a drunk.

Groggily, Jaune's face-dried with loose spittle down the side-removed itself from the wooden countertop comforting it, getting instead a good look around the inactive nightclub aesthetic encircling him.

No lights, no camera, action? Remains to be seen, which Jaune certainly did not. The environment looked stationary in its inactivity, a huge difference from the bumping atmosphere he remembered smuggling into. An unevenness came over him, and fuelled him to wipe the ghostly traces of slava spurned across his features.

One question, he idly thought, should be asked.

Though his balls felt un-yeeted at the sake of Neo's evilly sexy thigh seduction, scars from the holy retribution invaded his mind like religious termites looking for a good meal. His pride could barely keep up to all the stimuli rounding atop its poor, poor form. A beaten child starving in the Vacuous Dunes, not noticing the vulture of objective reality in the distance, priming itself for a midday snack.

Becuase really, what the fuck does it mean to be a teenager? Really? He wondered about it often, even at the most inappropriate times imaginable.

During meals, class, interacting with a depressed old man, watching growing young woman touch him in tender ways, having intense sexual intercourse with those women who touch him in those ways, even religiously. And he doesn't even pray, not one fucking bit.

So, he asks himself-sitting up from his rutt, and meeting the eyes of one big man bastard by the name of Junior-what the hell it means to not be mature. As perhaps this secret discipline would've kept him from stupidly eye-mongling the fucking crooks around him. Men in black, with red ties off-still, even now-doing miscellaneous time passing chores, Roman himself not partaking in this, and taking an open barstool besides Jaune. Drink in hand.

Either way, Jaune had to reiterate: never fall for the hoes, no sir. Thank Monty the boys didn't seen him slippin'.

A hand gripped his shoulder, smoldering emeralds on him again. "Welcome back, our wonderful Miss Politan has decided to leave your being to us momentarily. She's insanely curious about your..." a chuckle, Junior's smuggling mug hidden in his effort to rag some glasses clean.

"Interesting sexual prerogative, which hey!" Roman saw his glare, and chose to do the most condescending hands raised surrender ever. "That ain't my style-neither my place-to judge a young fella getting by, in our world of bloody federal taxation."

The sarcasm was practically dripping, like the alcoholic beverage drops down Roman's throat, the once desired maturity liquid of Jaune's taking a foray across the furnished dance floor. "See...I've seen a madman's share of degeneracy during my times around the block. Women with anger issues so fuckall nasty you'd think a Grimm fairy squeezed tomatoes over their clitorises."

A pause, the alcohol glass was thoughtfully tapped. "Or was it clitori?" Roman hummed to himself, then shrugged. "Eh, who fuckin' knows."

"...That's..." Jaune frowned. "That's not-"

He was silenced. "Up-up-up!" Roman put his chugging juice down, pointing a gloved finger at him. "No crybabies in my sight, Arc. You've got lots of shit needing adult revision as of momentum currento, because as you can see," he held his hands up, theatrically gesturing to the inactive night club like it meant something. "I'm in a bit of a bind."

"Okay?" The apathy was more consuming then his cloak's blanketing-ness. "Why'd I care?"

"Did..." Roman rubbed his forehead, then gestured the shaky grapple tool aggressively outwards. "Did you just forget what I fucking said not an hour ago? You absolute motherfucking fuck?"

He glared.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Roman shook his head, mumbling unhappily. "It's fine, it's completely fine, Roman!" The gloved criminal hands ditz themselves around, an orangey dust lighter within their hold. "He's a bold n' young man! Unable to connect with an old fella like yourself, take it eassssssy-"

Junior came back around, piling another frothy drink atop the counter top, broad grin on his face, all for the orange haired thief with now two glasses of liver. "This should be good for everyone involved, Roman."

Purposeness was there, bearman's words less legit curiosity and more social obligation. "Whatever about our young audience so fucks you over?"

The smugness was also making the thief suffer like Jaune did, and it made him happy. "Get rid of it, tell the kid off and maybe we'd find ourselves another simp in red and black."

While Roman grumbled consideration to himself, Junior took a glance at Jaune, offering a gruff, yet affable smile.

For a man willing to hand minors a one way ticket to potential death, he's a pretty cool looking guy. "What's your take, kid? I know me and you haven't known much about each other, but I'd like to wholeheartedly say congratulations on having such a top-fucking money look about you."

He blinked, holding his gloved hand tight. "Thanks man, you really think so?"

Junior nodded to both him and his exposed collar. "Whatever the hell Beacon did, it's certainly added a pleasant aesthetic. Makes you look the type willing to get shit done."

Wow, that's some very satisfying buddering of his ego, and Jaune sorta feels it's genuine.

Though on the other hand, the bartender did let Jaune get kidnapped by the grumpy thief dude chugging some more clear jugs of garbage juice, so appreciating the little things assholes do-at least when considered emotionally-are matters of interest conflict.

Still, he'd love to discuss with the devil, as he's been a sinner since day one. Alcoholic interested definitely included there, but once again, not anymore.

"Yeah," he started, clearing his throat and cracking a gloved hand on the countertop. "It's the result of becoming a powerful figure in the broader school system, and the shitton of connections I've made with the student body. A sorta...uhm, actualization of my innate competence, if you ask the women I've seduced during the journey so far" That got him two baffled stares, weirdly less so Roman.

He shrugged. "Don't know where and why, only how." A grin slipped its way in, his pride rearing its beaten head for another hurrah. "But before I even consider telling you people about my sex life-"

"Oh, for Monty's squinty-eyed fucking sake." Roman groaned, throwing his hands up, nearly knocking a glass over. They came down with a fiery flourish, having little to do with the dust-fire Jaune knew he wields. "Let me tell you something personal: I'd legally be receiving retirement benefits in less than two decades from now."

A rant was gaslighting itself, and those eyes emerald were the gasoline of proof. "But because I'm a scam artist-and dust-loving entrepreneur of survival-and black market bullshittery, I've found myself made into an illegal martyr and full time avoider of conventional taxation."

His face looked red, the drinks must've been coming in earlier. "So let's fucking NOT get into the women an Arc man sleeps with, because I've heard plenty already. There's more pressing concerns plaguing my mind and causing this fine beverage to take a detour down my throat hole, and soon, urinary tract."

Roman paused, irrational anger subsiding in the presence of enabled alcoholism, sloshing away in front of him. "I'm getting too drunk for this shit, good Lord."

He rounded on Junior, fire this time not in his weapon. "You're to blame! I get angry easier when I'm drunk!"

Junior shrugged. "Like I said, Roman, the anger was already there, and the current tab's your own fault. Quit the premature venting and clean your act up."

That...huh...sounded oddly knowledgeable-

A gloved hand was waved to him, Roman sputtering indignant annoyance for a moment. "Just...okay, you know what? Go back!"

Further shooing. "Rewind the tape and focus on me focusing on you, you'll have your thigh-high-shitfry to contend with later." Another groan, its crackly pitch almost pleasing to thewears for once. "And, no offense Junior, but potentially the twins-"

The bartender looked gruff, but merely shook his head. "None taken. They practically own me in comparison."

He himself wheezed, yet paradoxically perked up at the same time, an opportunity like that interested him on a primal level, despite the rational humiliation shoved in the back of his mind. "There's twins? With considerable-"

Roman glared. "Shut your motherfuckin' mouth, Arc." This time, it seemed Junior looked absolutely in agreement to that sentiment. "You're lucky I don't have Neo preform some convoluted sexual harassment on you again, soley for my unjustifiably clogged cane." Another grumble, masked in a heavy drink-take. "It took weeks to unscuff the barrel, and thousands of lien notes in repairs." He shook his head, putting the glass down with a thump. "Never forgetting that shit, standards or not..."

Jaune put his hands up in defeat, not trusting himself to take the bastard on quite yet. Bruised pride returning to its corner again.

"Right," he mumbled. "Continue."

A sigh. "Good. So..." Roman fluttered his fingers around, paused, then used them to pull down his bowler hat. "Until then? Say your conversation relevant piece, and listen to me tell you how shitty a person your Headmaster is."

The glass was in his hand, sloshing around stylishly unprofessional. "That's what my goal is anyways, which I'm now somewhat sure my compatriot here, mister Junior, is smiling all nice and preppy at me for."

Not anymore, as Junior gave that grin to Jaune during eye contact.

Roman noticed, downed another shot, then leaned on the counter some more. "Oh yeah, you two've meet each other, because somebody," anger was there, a bitterness layer no alcohol could nullify. "Thought giving the Arc brat a fucking free pass to Beacon was a good idea, a real banger decision on the holy scale of competent opportunity making. The ultimate blasphemy to industry de Torchwick-"

Junior bellowed from deep below his chest, it was oddly comforting. "Oh, shut it. The money was there and I'd have let you do it, if you were actually around more."

Before the unstable-and drunkenly pissy, for reasons unknown-thief could snap back at his comrade, Jaune addressed the bear-man first, suspicions first. "Hey, Junior?"

The man grabbed a glass, and raised one brow while cleaning it.

"What's...uh." Jaune scratched his head. "I had one question for you, that's been on my mind lately, and I'd like it answered before this trainwreck beside me-"

Roman burped, frowned in shock, and slammed a fist against his chest, grumbling annoyance.

"I was really wondering the...uhhh..same thing as him, actually." Jaune popped his lips. "Why'd you let me get false transcripts? And more importantly, why the fuck does Roman feel the need to kidnap people he doesn't like and sick his thigh-demon on them?" More Romanic grumbling, yet Jaune adamantly ignored it. "I know he said something about Ozpin being a bad person, and keeps talking like he knows me..." Roman paused, drink in hand. "Or insinuated it, but..."

Junior let him trail off, taking the time to finish his glass cleaning and pot-shot the yucky rag into a trash bin behind him. Direct shot, direct landing in the target area without a single flaw, perfectly Brian Cobe'd like the average twenty five year old high-end Faunus athlete. Only dumber down, and unappreciated by the common man.

Sans Jaune, who gave an interesting fellow a good hand clap, getting a sarcastic courtesy in return. "Thank you, I do aim to please." Junior rose, watching them both. "Speaking of...you two need to 'please' yourselves somehow, I've seen this dapper fuck and unconscious boy-toy at my bar together for only an hour or two, yet it's real apparent something is causing instability."

Junior waggled a finger at him, then at Roman "I need this taken care of before I answer your questions, kid. Same goes for you."

Roman finished his drink, and leaned on his fist, bowler hat blocking the probably darkened look within. "Yeah. Sure, let's go with that. Putting this shit on me when you're the one who encouraged me to bring him here."

"...Do you not remember the casual insinuation of bringing Jaune away from Beacon? The drunken stupor and good time emotions?" Jaune blinked, and starred along with the gruff bartender. "You walked out my-

"Our-"

Junior vehemently shook otherwise. "My bar. Until you get your old man grievances out."

Grumbling, the zippo lighter was fumbled with. "You're five years my junior, Junior."

Jaune snorted. "Age is just a number, then."

"Yeah," Junior chuckled along, surprisingly cultured. "And jail is just a cell, now get on with it."

...

...

Roman glanced them both over, seeing their dedication to shut their traps until further conversation progress. He sighed, angry drunk features scrunched up in thought.

"Well then...fine." His hands came together, thumb to thumb. "Let me firstly say...Arc," a heavy breath, carrying moderate stress, "that Ozpin is an incompetent old geezer. A sellout to Atlas aristocracy and governing bodies."

...

Roman starred, surprised. "Well?"

Jaune leaned bemusedly into his fist, shooing with the other. "I'll tell ya in a sec, continue."

"...Right." He looked suspicious at the brief confidence, yet the criminal's throat was cleared. "See, it's a matter of principle and results, when dealing with the man on high. You're too young to remember this, but when I was...hold on."

Roman growled, grabbing his remaining glass, sliding it Junior's way. "Fill that shit up, barman. I'm hoping to numb tonight into tomorrow."

Wordlessly, but yet not without somewhat sarcastic unhappiness at the callous treatment, Junior got him his glass. Another round of frothy goodness, slogging side to side with each rumble atop the bar counter.

Roman took a swig, slammed it down, hid a nastily long burp in his shoulder, then stared vaguely off into Jaune's general direction, features weirdly similar to what Jaune expected a man to have when constipated.

Which honestly, he's speaking from experience. "Wew. That was good, good shit...but anyways, yeah..."

Roman tapped the glass, sighing. "Ozpin let a budding colony go tipsy-topsy, and I...fuck, Junior, should I really be-"

"Yes." The man rolled his eyes, seeing his bartender's deadpan. "If you're going to prove yourself better then Ozpin, then you need to be honest where it matters!" More excitement, almost hopefulness cracking through a gruff demeanor. "This is your moment to sell the crime-idea to the kid, after all!"

Jaune wanted to dismiss the very notion, but Roman bit back. "Yeah? Fine." Roman sat up in his chair, reaching a hand over and quickly bonking Jaune's shoulder without mercy.

Bubbly white Aura almost bent to the will of causal violence this man swung with. But it wasn't anywhere near the pain once felt by him those months ago, Jaune's Aura had no function error at the interference, which made him quietly cheer inside his mind for the stamina progress.

Still, Jaune choked, staring at the adamant dickhead. Unhappy.

Roman went on further thought. "I'd like to tell you, right now, that you're looking at a licensed huntsman."

"...Huh?"

"Yeah." Roman rolled his eyes. "You can play dumb, but it's true: fourteen years ago, I had full opportunity to flex my postion, as is, to slay Grimm beasts for the governing bodies that be." He paused, then buffeted in place, rummaging through a loose coat pocket. "Hold on, here..."

With a couple seconds more of aggravated grumbling, Roman finished up. "Aha!" He huzzahed, holding a little lein note sized placker card, beaming widely. "Check this out, Arc."

He did, receiving the little thing, looking it over.

...

...

...

"Wait, 'previsiolnary agent' of Vale's Mountain Glenn expenditure?-"

Roman nodded, straightening his back out with gloved hands, releasing a delightfully old-man style groan of appreciation when his efforts produced a worryingly loud pop. "The card doesn't go into the full details, but it's verifiably true!"

The hands came back around, rubbing together comfy-like. "I was a representative for colony relations in Mountain Glenn, a mediator between the jointed efforts of Vale and Atlas-based huntsman colonization."

They slowed down now, Roman's eyes dilating suspiciously in tandem. "It was maximally loose in federal oversight, only thing mapped out being some fair few acres of squared into place farm land. Perfect to grow a healthy farming class from, I'll tell you that."

He let loose a low whistle, eyes distant. "People had high hopes for the place, as both a goods provider and culture masher, in a productive way." An unfamiliar beat was tapped onto the bar counter surface, a tick or purposeful remembrance. "It had Vale's romanticism and Atlas's hard-assed rationality, we went there to prepare real world Huntsmen skills often..."

Jaune had to digest that, yet the conversation dipped into highly familiar territory for the...veteran hunstmen...in Jaune's presence. No matter how stupid an idea that appeared to be.

Yet this drunk, angry-red-faced, snappy bowler hat man was a protector of humanity in active service one point? Probably serving Ozpin?

The curiosity bubbled an equal measure to his Aura, and Jaune felt himself resign to question his boomer-in-chief back home asap.

Until then, though, he studied Roman's wistfully nostalgic thief gaze like the bittersweet enigma it was. His one thousand yard gaze shifting into an almost foriegn delight, of an easier time no doubt.

Roman pulled a cigar from an unknown pocket, and he lit it, still gazing off into the almost non-metaphorical abyss, smiling a grim line both into and through the toxically ghastly lung-fumes floating up to the ceiling.

Junior certainly didn't enjoy the dangerous pastime-relatively speaking-either, but Jaune saw him give the old huntsman his space, so Jaune chose the same. He tightened up accordingly, with a straightened back Ozpin always used to whinge about, before he grew sad.

Or always was that depressed, yet only chose to show Jaune now. He couldn't say.

Another plume went up, before a gentle monologue began again. "...I really liked the place, it's-or, heh, was-the free market dream in a sense: little distant government regulation, organically blooming communities of farmers and city planners, constant incentive to stick together and weather the Grimm storm…"

Roman hummed to himself satisfactorily. "It was good shit, it'd make each day a hellish adventure of guarding what felt like the future. Something people, honest to Monty Oum, can look at and say 'wow, this was someone's fuckall dream made manifest!'"

He laughed, it sounded bittersweet, his tone's natural slyness giving the expression a more honest feel, so too the puffs of toxicity reaching the air above. "And in many ways, it was." The cigar adjusted with his immediate perking up to clarify. "Not mine, but ahh...it certainly was a dream. Good, stupid dream..."

Roman let the silence come in again, taking another puff. Tapping the hefty cigar's loose bodyweight to the dancefloor below.

Jaune shifted undecidedly in place, and Junior leaned gruffly over the counter, probably to comment on that, before Roman spoke up again.

"I...I'd say..." He's tapping the counter now, face reverting back to it's not-so-drunk complexion, yet the sly asshole Jaune's somewhat knowledgeable about seemed dormant, replaced by an older male with a cool hat, recounting old stories with a flair of snuffed out sanctuary. "You couldn't find a more potential-having place in all Valen provinces, it just bespoke hardiness and culture willing to forcibly push the Grimm bastards back to whence they've fucked about."

It stopped, but sounded again at a more hardened pitch. "They'd be the place first to start pushing Vale's borders and colony's out, really capturing that glorious kingdom idea. The other continents would've definitely followed alongside them," he placed a hand against his dappered up chest, "and I'd claim it would've started a new push to expand the entire world, against the common beasts holding it hostage.

No more tapping, just his tightened fist. "A bloody fuckin' evolution of man." A snarl, the first one Jaune-numbly so-saw ever grace Roman's features, it was ugly and angry.

Emerald gazes rounded to him, anger sizzled like Smokey flames underneath. "Yet when Mountain Glenn fell, kid? When the grand dream was siphoned under it's own deliriously idealistic weight?"

That fist slammed the counter, it cracked a little bit. "Ozpin didn't say shit. He didn't mobilize the people of Vale and Beacon to rescue the remains, neither did he make public statement as to why any of this even happened. It was men and women like me," he beat his chest. "Roman fucking Torchwick: huntsmen and official federal agent and ambassador, had to learn about the collapse of our nearly two decades of hard-worked civilization going up in literal draconian flame because our Grimm Reasercher fucker, Merlot, decided to disobey a Monty given law of life!"

The slyness grew shrill, unrefined. "and unleash man-slaughtering hell on us all!"

Jaune frowned, Junior grunted gruffly.

The bowler hat came off, moderately thumping against the dance floor. Roman decided to mask the disturbance by violently kicking his chair out, sending it rolling off kilter. Junior didn't even flinch. Though Jaune couldn't say the same.

Waltzing in a hunched over circle, damn near resentful-grimace on his face, Roman grabbed fervently at his locks well kept locks. "We TRUSTED that sonofabitch! We watched him and his little apprentice fuck around in the corner twenty four seven, thinking the little trinkets and technologies they've chucked our way, the buddering up words and guarantees, were worth the thousands of innocent lives snuffed out in a Grimm oppression!"

A manic cackle, he saw emeralds dilate again. "The sounds of women screeching to the clouded sky, feeling their unprotected bodies crunched in gnashing teeth, intestines slurped for the fucking glamour of the slaughter."

The anger was vitriolic, yet honestly malevolent. "Children squelched in two, watching their momma's flesh be acidified, and daddies speared on an enormous claw."

A shudder. "No rescue, no reinforcements, no love from the world that was SUPPOSED to be there." Roman stopped, shaky hands grabbing his hand and chest. "Absolutely none came." They gripped visibly harder. "Vale had no idea, Atlas had no garrison nearby, communication wasn't covered by the CCT towers, and you'd find it sudden when a trusted ALLY and PROVIDER of our society simply reveals that they've gamed our shitty democracy for their sick fucking CURIOSITY!-"

"Roman," Junior staled, gruffness firm. "Take it easy."

…

…

...

He did, standing to full height, giving himself a hearty slap to the head, much to Jaune's displeasure. The rant beginning anew, this time straighter faced and even toned, the cigar removed from his lips and beheld to his left hand's digits. "WE had to step in then."

It was shoved in between his lips again, moving up in down at every ranting move. "Yet here's the kicker...my team, my comrades, had found out about the siege of our assigned lot not through each other, or broader informational happenstance, no..." Roman stared Jaune's way, a sarcastic chuckle on his tongue and out his cigar'd mouth. "Ozpin told us first, and only wanted us to interfere on condition that we escort only our Team leader and his charge out of danger."

Oddly, Jaune wasn't surprised, he only raised a brow.

"Yeah." Roman nodded, bullheaded misunderstanding apparent. "You can sit there and doubt me, but it's the truth: your Headmaster plainly told us 'the information came in too late', and then went off in a tangent about priorities, thinking that we'd best cut our loses and leave them to rot, hundreds of thousands just ripe for the bloody fucking picking."

Another moralistic snarl from the thieving man, yet tamed in comparison to before. "He never cared about morality, and he'll always stay away from direct interference whenever he can."

Roman took a deep breath, playing with the lighter a little bit. "Democracy is a shame, and it's perpetrators are shills raking in private investments. I'd guarantee Ozpin only fucked off from Mountain Glenn due to his man-love with Ironwood, though I'm roastin' the shits on empty fumes now, so take that shit with a side of cold milk..."

After letting that sit on their minds a moment, Roman bent over, picking his chair up, waddling back to the counter with it. "I think it's also important..."

He placed it back down, plopping on the stool with a tired sigh. "To understand that I'm not a victim."

Jaune had to butt in then, raising his none fisted hand to the burning enigma. "You're blaming a higher authority for a collapse you helped to mitigate, though." Ozpin's Mantlean shilling in particular, though the little details of intercommuncating civilizations were a far cry from the distantness they've been facing now.

"Yeah?" Roman raised a brow, flipping his lighter to him. "I'm also what you call a grown fucking man, Jaune. Those people tend to take their shit and make something worthwhile out of the piss-poor funky remains

Jaune lazily blinked, and it flipped back, Roman looking unimpressed with his calm. "Sometimes that includes some personable intuition to say 'well, my Team Leader's a fucking dumbass and everything's on fire, why not take part in some personal defiance, and help the fucker save a few damned-to-hell civvies?'" Roman cackled to himself at that, which nobody seemed to get. "And that's what I did, that's what we did: splitting up into manageable units and going on our merry crusades."

Jaune licked his lips, frowning. "Was it worth it, though…?"

"Pfft, yes," Roman paused again, looking up at nothing in particular and musing. "Absol-fucking-utely!"

A shorter cackle. "Hell, me and bookworm killed Merlot ourselves, I personally stuck my beautiful cudgel all the way through his fucking ribs." Shuddering sign, wisps of conflict inside grassy emeralds. "Never has anger, misery, joy, and righteousness came onto me as such an unreal concoction of horror anytime before…"

He held his hands still, and shook negative. "And it was the same for him too."

That nostalgia driven tone was always there throughout this entire speech, Jaune didn't know why. "We both had personal stakes there, everything was on the line, our Leader's glorious dream, even if It makes me hate him all the more in retrospect..."

Jaune piped in. "Yet...?"

Roman looked him over, then snorted. "Yet the mountain fell, they died, he died in his goddamn heroism, Atlas didn't want to colonize with us anymore, and Ozpin refused to acknowledge the problem, choosing instead to mourn his time away." The zippo lighter came on, and the cigar lit, fumed already building up. "The Council launched an investigation into Beacon, withdrew their greenfucks from its halls, and now want my head for dishonorably discharging myself from service."

Jaune opened his mouth to ask, but Roman beat him to it. "Don't ask, because I'm not telling you jack-shit about federal governing nonsense, alright?" His disappointment was immeasurable, but Jaune nodded his understanding at the quick-witted thief, who hummed in satisfaction.

"Good." Roman cleared his throat. "Also to keep in mind, Arc?"

Leaning in before Jaune could mumble back, Roman whispered real quietly for him, brows raised in passive aggressiveness downright unnerving. The causally malignant aurora his grey-black fumes gave off only added to the negative mystique. "I've got orders from my pyromaniac employer that the Council now has her two bootlicking shit-kids."

Another puff, another smell of putridly ashy death down Jaune's throat. "She wants me to save them and somehow find a way to convince Faunus terrorists to send proper representatives for 'the grand plan.' Not only that, but they've got the deserter too, that Tuskon guy who apparently knows her identity."

Jaune blinked, Roman nodded with a quiet yeah.''

"How the fuck? I don't know, she just wants me to fix her mess." He shook his head. "Oum on high, if she didn't have magical fire shit, I'd have beaten her down myself, yet here I am..."

A hand found Jaune's shoulder, seeing emerald eyes stabbing into his own numbed blues. "Venting off my censored frustrations to a little brat like yourself. Just a student, I'm assuming. Not like-"

He patted Roman's hand back, giving a nervous grin. "Actually, I started a schoolwide political campaign against Ozpin for the identity of Headmaster."

Pen drop, Junior choked in the background, Roman looked stricken. "...I'm sorry?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I didn't win, but he wanted to personally train me or something, said he'll de rank Miss Goodwitch and make me his Deputy, which he did." Jaune scratched his cheek. "I'm not a fan of him either, Roman, never was. These are things still true though, and they've given me power. Or an ability to get power, as me and Oobleck are discovering."

Roman still remained silent, yet the paleness was new. And suspicious. His cigar found itself lumped atop the counter. "What're you discovering?"

Junior looked curious too, leaning worriedly into Jaune's left.

Jaune himself straightened up again, breathing out the loose nerves. "I'm not sure if the reports said as much, but Doctor Oobleck was the one to capture them. He told me the federal bodies current were hoping to meet with me sooner to discuss my position in leeway against Ozpin, ideally sometime during or before Vale Remembrance day celebrations."

Jaune turned to Junior, and gave a big beaming smile. "Yeah, I've gone far, Thanks to your transcripts." He brought a gloved hand up, bubbling his Aura there momentarily. "I ended up making myself a cult of personality within the place, and already have two girlfriends, going on three. If Velvet isn't dead-"

Roman was still ghostly looking, yet he piped in helpfully. "I sent Neo to pick her up with the twins, she'll be wanting you before giving her up." A scroll came out his pocket, blaring to life. "I can show you the message, Arc. She's told me there's already feet pics on standby, for some ungodly millennial reason I'm judging you for-"

Jaune groaned, but Junior saved the moment, clapping his limped shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. But as I'm finally satisfied somewhat? It'll tell you honestly, Jaune: I know a driven boy when I see it, and you?" Shit, this seemed almost paternal, Jaune felt his heart lighten. "You've always had that potential, even when stupidly stumbling into my bar, looking for a drink and purpose. It's the least I can do."

"...Wow," he whispered, honest Arc grin on his face. "Really? That's really morally righteous of you and stuff, why'd you possibly think so?"

Junior paused, yet Roman snorted. "Because you're an Arc, simple as that."

Yet the bear sized man rounded on him. "Hypocrite. You're only here because he's one as well. Otherwise the speel and deal wouldn't have happened."

When Roman merely scoffed in annoyance, Jaune really had to reflect on that-

Yet he wasn't done being directly addressed, Roman's-surprisingly honest-eye contact said as much. "But seriously, Arc...let me say it again: Ozpin doesn't love you, and he'll never be able to healthily express it if he does. Your flawed conceptions of heroism will get you killed and loved ones heartbroken."

Roman paused, shuddering out a chuckle. "I'm...not a good person, but if there's one thing I'd like not to see? Nobody believing Ozpin's Will was mutually beneficial long term, and though you've honestly laid some fantastic groundwork against that, which-"

"I'm not telling you about it unless you stop associating with terrorists."

...

...

...

Roman meet his sternness, and sighed. "Yeah, whatever. I can see where you're coming from, but do take in mind that some things in this world, as is, are far more dangerous than first imagined." He twirled his fingers around. "You'll not always be able to schmooze through life as some fancy shmancy Deputy boy papa Ozpin snuck into Beacon, which is a highly concerning thing to me in the first place.

Roman paused, sighing."I'd then, just to prove the option was always there, would offer an opportunity to stop going to Beacon, and come under my tutelage." A hand was given, Jaune starred. "I'll get you up to speed on basic hunstman practice and attitude, as well as bolster you in equal measures you me."

Roman paused, looking somewhat reluctant. "Plus, I'm pretty sure Neo has taken a considerable liking to your existence." He dug for his scroll again, chim resting against his neck, mumbling at both Jaune and the screen. "She's been sending me paragraphs of excited drivel, some weird millennial shit if I've ever seen it."

Jaune put his finger up, not liking the previous misaging baloney. "I'd like to point out I'm not a millennial, I'm generation-"

"Z? Yeah." Jaune blinked, Roman chuckled. "I'm not a baby boomer, I'm a gen-xer, kid. Definitely the proper age to be your fucking father." He took an weirdly long moment to think on that. "And most certainly old enough to misunderstand all this 'Can I have the blonde one?' and 'I want him, Boss.' talk Neo's been putting me through."

Roman shook his head. "All those hours staring at your scroll's screens dilute the mind anyways." He added, whilst watching his scroll screen. "Never got that, and hope you never do either, kid. Otherwise you'd start talking shit about 'Mistrailan animation' and other things a grown woman really shouldn't tell me about in private messaging services."

Jaune felt-and definitely looked-pale at that, Roman nodded. "Yeah...she's an interesting package, you'll maybe like her. The whole quiet killer aethstetic really brings out the good qualities left over, if not barely better. I myself wouldn't have dated a girl like when I was a tiny Torch boy, but you do you kid."

"I never said I wanted to date her."

"...You realize that besides with me me and Junior here, you have no consent, right?"

Roman saw his displeasure, and cackled. "If Neo wants you she'll legitimately kidnap you, maybe the twins would help." Junior didn't seem to like that, but only chose to frown. "I'm a man of necessity, and if it's not needed to interfere with my pseudo-daughter's sinful extravaganzas, I'm hoping to keep purified from it. Modernity is a demon you'd best keep at bay, one roast at a time."

Jaune stood up, running his fingers across the counter top to and from, clicking his cheeks. He could tell Roman was weary. "So, you're offering that I drop out of Beacon-"

"Or be an informant for me, whatever you can do."

"Okay..." he licked his lips, "and if I do so, you'll essentially become my martial arts instructor, and I'll be free from Ozpin's oppression."

"Hopefully."

"What of my friends?"

"...Fuck..." Roman groaned, squeezing his cigar tight. "I didn't think of that, shit. Hold on..."

He did, and a dozen seconds later, Roman perked up, slamming the table in a positive...way? Jaune didn't know.

"Oh! Okay, shit!" Roman pointed his cigar at him, grinning. The fumes have steadily built up like a reversal stairway to hell. "How about you come by periodically and let me in on your whereabouts? No expense in the school otherwise! And when we overthrow Ozpin for being a fucking asshole, you'll take his place as Headmaster, and I'll be happy, mostly."

There was a skewered hopefulness there, an element relatively new in Jaune's memeory of the confusing thief. "All I ask is for you to include me in your rise to power, keep me and Neo out of trouble, and...well...I'm still thinking hold on-"

Jaune saw the Gen-xer's plight for what it was, and said it like it is. "I'm not going to bend over for an aging thief's safety, especially one that has considerable notoriety against federal government bureaucracy, which I currently need to fraternize with in over to overthrow Ozpin." They stared at him, baffled once again. "So no, I can't coddle you, neither should you me."

He glanced at Junior in particular. "I appreciate the hospitality and lack of murdering me, but if you'd be so kind, can y'all leave me to my devices?

Junior shrugged, keeping to himself

Jaune nodded some meager respect to the man, but gave their third occupant a well deserved glare. "And Roman?"

The man raised a brow, cigar still held at a distance between two fingers.

"Aren't you still servicing the...uh, pyromaniac lady...?" Or whatever the fuck he called her.

"Yes, partially." Straight-faced again, annoyingly so,

With a quick throat clearing, Jaune began his own rant, feeling the mood for provocation overcome his instinctual desire for squishy women not too long ago. "So how'd you explain to your superior of my involvement with you?"

He tiled his head, frowning. "Is it supposedly a multilevel deception of deception, where I think I'm on your side, yet you're actually not a drunk dumbass with a good hat who has an unhealthy obsession with my existence...to the point of letting a grown woman sexually assault and pummel me, and instead you're an informant for a malevolent fire spitter?"

Jaune felt migraines building at the sight of Roman's thoughtful cigar drag, no response bothered. "Are you acting on impulse right now? Curiosity? What the fuck am I to you? Why is it so important I'm kept away from Ozpin, by a Dust Thief no less?"

The crook and forging bartender shared a glance, and Jaune felt his face scrunch in annoyance. "Matter of fact...who are you people? Besides common criminals with apparent ties to traitors trying to take the means of production,"-from Jaune no less-"you have some reason for being here."

He poked his chest with a gloved finger, hand sticking out his cloak. "There's gotta be some reason for knowing my last name on the fucking casual, and it'd like to have that," he glared at Junior in particular, "moral quandary answered before I continue poking flaws in this piss-poor attempt at an alliance."

...

...

...

Junior chuckled, an undefinable and-in Jaune's expert opinion-nonsensical smile cracked across his features. "Oddly confident for a boy kidnapped not three hours ago."

Roman hummed an amen to that. And a thanks, as Junior slid him another drink, sipping at the frothy top.

Jaune rapped his cloak around himself, tilting his head up at the old bastards. "Well, confidence is all you really need-"

Suddenly, he heard them sputter in unison, Roman in particular, who projectile spat his mirthful mouthful of lung cancer onto Junior's countertop and general top. The bartender didn't even flinch at the contact, far too focused on examining Jaune from the down and up. For, once again, reasons they're unable to articulate like actual responsible adults.

Roman was the first to pipe up, or choke up, as he sounded like the crushed viper he was. "Where'd you get that...?!"

Little truth bombs here and there weren't dangerous, so he shrugged, honesty as a prominent philosophy. "After fighting you, I was crippled for several weeks."

He saw the man's expression wilt, almost sharing the emotions of the conflict Jaune once did. "It made me depressed and nihilistic, more so then I'd ever been during my shitty gamer-esc life."

Leaning in for an extra flair was necessary to Jaune then, and he did so. Grinning artificially wide for the conflicted audience of one orange-haired fool slumped at his bar seat. "But It took a little visit with Doctor Oobleck to change that, because he told me some decent wisdoms he's heard here and there."

And he'll never forget them, especially the 'mind, body, and soul' kinda stuff, but still...

Jaune frowned to himself. "Also shitty chart ones." Flashes of inner circle and outer circle datability material came to mind, he couldn't ever say they're necessarily wrong in their diagnosis of what women desire in able bodied men prime for courtship, but it's a terribly disconnected way to introduce an actual active participant in the dating world to everything.

He'd have no desire to stick his sexually appealing neck out if all the women available to him were shown with the preface of 'hey, there's a probable and layered percentage amongst all the titty-bearers in your life, that mostly confirms their likelihood of enjoying you solely for your big wee-wee and position in a dominance hierarchy.'

That'd make him bitter and resentful for an...mostly inaccurate...

...Well...he didn't fucking know. Jaune just gets laid because people enjoy his company and ability to enchant others.

Is that evidence of being at the top? Maybe, is it evidence that usually the best looking people were able to do this? Relatively.

Is Oobleck disingenuous for selling him that idea as gospel truth?

Jaune genuinely thought not, as he's likely an enigma when considering the whole Valen system they're taking part in. He must've internalized some insecurity so heavily that he isolated himself from conventional socialization, just like Jaune.

Only Oobleck didn't do much about it, and probably is relaxing back at Beacon, sipping caffeine and pondering on how he'll plan their next course of subversive action in the near future. Women practically non existent on his mind, for whatever reason Jaune could assign? Something irrationally simple.

Had to wonder occasionally, though, in these tiny moments of mental leg-room within the social storms raging underneath their physicality around, if the devils he knew fairly well were...right in some ways. He'd dread to imagine what the wicked existential plane doth they be inhabiting would amount to if Jaune acknowledged, say, he didn't know...

There'd might be something to the idea of highly desirable men, in both a personality and physical sense-maybe not even personality so much-are able to partake in a larger quantity of sexual partners?

Then again, most of his friends were really fit, but doubly again, they were almost always really under confident-or romantically unexpressive-with themselves. Or not actively advertising their sexual appeal to the opposite sex.

Until he helped collectivize their struggles, though...Ren's case foremost. Does that mean something? Does that mean he's winning the most social credit scores?

Jaune shook his head and frowned, deciding to rethink his perspective on the world another time, one less dangerously liable to land him in a federal penitentiary for the following century or so.

"But the flaky bits here and there aren't important." He looked the two curious weirdos over. "Though that little advice splurb in particular stuck with me ever since, really don't know why."

Snorting, as Roman shook his head, leaning over the counter some more. A somber humor shining in his quirked lips.

"Couldn't imagine why, eh?" In a mostly-besides when he held his back and groaned-quiet motion, the thief bent down to the dance floor ground, snatching the hat for his continued enjoyment.

When the deed was done, bowler hat daintily equipped, and an idle comment about throwing his back out, Roman glanced at their bartender curiously. Slipping into his seat, grunting exertion.

"Holy Oum in the reavers, I'm getting old." a shake of the head, "...but anyways..."

Roman grabbed his cigar, and promptly left it atop the bar counter, then nursing his drink in a tightly gloved hold. "What's your take on that...idea...Junior?"

Jaune's missing something, he could feel it. "Think it's worthwhile wisdom, primed for the young men and women of the world, no matter their stature?"

Without a sound, their bartender company staggered back to his dirty glasses, picking up a new rag and scrubbing away. Grumbling under his breath.

"My take...? Hah..." Junior already wiped one clean, seeming more negative compared to the floaty thief listening in. "I just hope Roman's satisfied with himself, getting an absolute net loss on his drunken investment."

Jaune did too, raising a brow at the lounging thief.

The man took another drink, bowler hat shaded atop his forehead, making examination of those piercing emeralds an unneeded chore. Especially for being a grumpy bastard Jaune's evening was table-turned by, whose-even now-throat was humming at something definitely attention grabbing inside his mind.

A stray thought, only entertained when the angry drunkenness wears off, and you're left to muse in life advice minors give you. A state of sad being Jaune hoped never to befall him.

There's now a half-smile, tinged in some kind of nostalgic sadness, Jaune's only evidence of any abnormality. Yet he couldn't say much about this man, surely because their only interactions came from a nearly battle to the flight-full death and he's one hundred percent positive Roman's best wasn't a fistful of Aura destroying hellfire.

Well, if Jaune's measuring by civilian decent standards.

Either way, Jaune stood stock still, hands grasped tightly underneath his ocean his blue cloth barrier, eyes raking over the un-compliant Torchwick with all the unashamedness his confidence boost bestowed upon and inside him, thanks to all the good chemicals zooming around his bloodstream.

They've ran him ragged in a very short amount of time, Putting him through the mental informational overload ringer, as well as literal death circle of danger. Neo and these mystery twins were on their merry way, and he's pretty sure they'll have a wonderful time delighting in his chad status, physically or otherwise.

Let not be said the insanity within an ease of women seduction, as how could you value people who seduce themselves with merely your image?

He'd have a hella hard time with that, and currently does. The occasional sexting he does with Miss Peach is mostly an afterthought pinging across his skull, going off on vacation for the foreseeable decade. It's like the slow up-creep of stimulation makes him immune to the dreams and ideals he once stupidly worshipped, yet those old values became even more idealistic stuffs in the long run.

Which is true. How could anyone say forcibly becoming a Headmaster by age eighteen-and running a huntsmen school on top of that, with hopes of being a polygamous warlord thrown in the mix-constituted anything but idealistic fantasy?

Not anyone sane, that's for sure. So he looked at the quiet smoker, and was going to openly demanded an explanation for their evening-

Until the club door opened, and in came four feminine figures.

One slumped over a red dressed girl's shoulder, yet all the more familiar for it. He froze in place, and watched the trio strut on to their-fuck, his-location like a camaraderie of pale skinned vultures. Dropping off the unconscious bunny woman on an open stool, letting her head thump against the countertop.

He made the impact gentle, seeing eyes shut lightly tight, expression befuddled and uncertain, just like Jaune was feeling about their entire situation current. That's what deep presence in enemy territory is like, with only his family heirloom at his side, and women collection gauntlet underneath his flesh.

Only this, against the power trio encircling his position, the twins-one dressed in red, another white-sharing a preverse intrigue at the young man before them, following Neo's lead. Who herself looked even more enthusiastic to interfere with Jaune's general vicinity, quickly making rounds to-

He choked, feeling Neo hop onto his front, perky body smushed against him in equivalent measures to the lips at his neck, sending his stance only a step off kilter. The contact did freeze him up though, as he's unable to predict how anything in the next two minutes will go, let alone seconds.

But to be fair...Jaune frowned, keeping his hands to himself, seeing the twins crowd behind Neo's little glom form curiosity. Junior's disappointed expression off to the side, Roman's bitter cackles in the background, in between audible chugging of frothy un-goodness.

He never had this predicted beforehand, so what the hell? He glanced at the poor Velvetine comrade snoozing away, rubbing her pale cheek tenderly.

"I'm sorry, Bun-Bun." He told her, ignoring the muted displeasure coming from Neo's striped throat. "You didn't deserve this. I'll get us out of here soon enough."

The red twin stepped a bit closer, suspicious. That didn't discount the intrigued humm at the back of her throat, eyes roaming his expansive cloak. "Oh, he's really fancy looking, isn't he, Melanie?"

Goddammit, this little song less dance was going through the motions. Knowing glances zipped across their connecting perceptions, a feedback loop of combating unruly male behavior.

He could already see the expectation in the white dressed one-Melanie, apparently-reflected in her pupils. She's done this song and dance against other unfortunate men as penance, a whirlpool of poorly thought out sex appeal coming together in these little fashionista minuses' tiny tight bodies.

Much like Neo's, which sucker punched his pride. They're nothing special.

Melanie strut close as well, raking a hand across the counter top, meeting the edges of his encompassing cloak. Probing the edges in artificial fascination, more curiosity put towards his frozen posture then anything. "I don't know, Miltiades. Any guy worth a little cash could walk around the block like he's hot stuff." It rubbed up, connecting lightly onto his shoulder. "Coming down to the 'bad' parts of town, ready to get his night rocked and wallet damped."

She stared for a moment, her sister coming closer. Their multicolored company pouting against his chest, pushing the probing hand away, much to the white twin's displeasure.

Dark emeralds probed some more. Seeing whatever intention he's currently showing off through eye contact, as Jaune himself couldn't accurately describe the tempest of dissatisfaction coursing past his major arteries and retreating ball-sack. The hormones going in a different direction. "Mhm...he's interesting. A roughish kinda guy." She glanced at Junior, whose frown was completely permanent for the last several minutes.

She pressed a finger against his cheek, and Neo tired to reach for it, only succeeding every few seconds. "Junior, who's he? You've never shown this guy before, has he been here?"

"..." Junior saw Jaune, and he him, giving a sad sigh and head shake. "Yes, he was here a few months ago, ordering a properly falsified set of-"

Neo claimed his lips again, and this time? The hormones weren't taking affect like before, his rationality and moral principle coming full circle in the presence of his real date.

Jaune pushed the crazy bitch away, taking a fair strip of satisfaction at the betrayal castigating off her proclaim features, eyes glossing muffle colors over.

Sexy thighs or not, Jaune had a duty to confront maloevolence, and by Ruby's God, he'd do that. One thottie destruction at a time. "No, we're not doing this shit, your handler over there," he guestered by thumb to the lounging thief, not even getting a grumble back. "Found it necessary to sit me down and poorly convince me to associate with illicitly illegal behavior for no gain if my own."

The trio looked unsurprised, yet not happy, especially the still uninformed twins hooked on their bear man's words. Roman meet their gazes with a shrug. "Still better to do then serve Ozpin, kid. He's the sheep that ordered wolves to hunt their brothers in arms, a shill through and through."

Jaune liked that, so he gave a nod. "Agreeable, but not the point: I'm outta here, y'all are unstable and nonsensical criminals looking for cheap thrills." He's meaning this too, and only hardened his newly reinvigorated resolve when the feminine fake news trio gasped in displeased shock at his will's expense, the disagreeableness finally coming to fruition against expense women collecting, unlike Peach's situation.

These hoes, right here, with their fancy diamonds and thigh highs and big boots, done up in petty make-up and needless glamour. They ain't loyal, and it took one memory of his girls' beautiful faces to say that, as they don't need overt garbage fluff to please his Chadisms.

Even Velvet, who wore some small measure of makeup, made it properly used and maintained in comparison, and it arched his heart for her.

Without regards to the legitimate criminals potentially liable to slice him from the inside out, Jaune walked to his Bun-Bun companion, gently scooping out the bar stool and into his encompassing arms, carrying her like some beautiful summer bride who took a rough tumble at the wood's edge, which wasn't all that needlessly words after considering the situation current.

Still, it didn't matter: he got Velvet out of Beacon through sheer hubris and hormonal intonement, and he'll be damned if that's not exactly how he'll scoot their stupid asses out of danger. So in a smooth stride past the trio, and without a single considering glance at the grown men silently staring at his back, Jaune thusly reached the door to exist, but turned to them last moment.

He took an innate pleasure at the feminine confusion and hurt, but also didn't, as they seemed doubly intrigued at his lack of care towards them in general, especially Neo.

Her eyes stopped glossing in multiplicity and gave him focused attention, browning angrily observant and manic eyes at his hard-faced look. She looked the prime psychopath and he would have Pyrrha-out of all waifus-give him a firm kick to the gonads for even considering cockage of the crazy stabby woman.

There's a difference between being an obsessive person, and a legitimate queen of cock and ball torture waiting to snatch him up like little Timmy after hours in the Grimm infested forest. It's not comparable in any capacity and he'll schmooze with that idea until his boys deem him cringe.

For now? Jaune grinned, yet it wasn't the positivity he shined at the cafeteria student goers hence, it was tinged with provocative challenge he felt his immature but capable confidence guide his focused stupidity like a spear of zoomer shitfuckery. "But I'll give myself a decent introduction for everyone, since I'm boutta head out with my girl to safety, and not treat the multi haired woman like a fetish queen."

Neo silently gasped, and he took joy in it, so too the confusion intensified on the faces of everyone else. Besides Roman, who chuckled darkly into his cup at the bar counter, cigar twiddling within gloved fingers from his clouded-by-smoke rutt, a truly classy classless act.

Junior even stopped cleaning miscellaneous glasses, frowning at the potential shitshow Jaune's lack of tact might start amongst the harpies.

Didn't care though, like he's said before. So he raised his head up high, pearly whites shining nicely.

"My name's Jaune D'Arc." He felt a weird emotional peak be reached inside himself, giving pause to enjoy a personal little break through. "And you know what?"

He leaned to the side, holding tight poor girl sleeping the scary world away in his arms, no longer in these bastard's influence, and Jaune'll fight a motherfucker to keep it that way. "It's short, sweeter than dust-cake shoved down your throat-hole, I hear women roll it off their tongue daily," especially science MILFs, who he'll maybe pay a visit sometime soon. "And you'd bet your nonexistent chastity belts decent women seem to love it, cuz I don't think y'all have enough class for that."

Ouch, they all gasped at that, not liking his focused disrespect, but Jaune meant it.

The amount of eyeliner on Melanie's eyeballs could fill a shot glass for Roman to down, its trying hella hard to make a good looking physique unnaturally beautified, and he's on that shit like a horndog juiced up on some sex-roids.

Ruby, for example, didn't need to have peacock eyelids to get his attention, all she needed to do was be herself. And herself was quality, and not flashy goods.

"So I'm out," he turned away, done absorbing their offense, and subtly ignored their budding noise complaints. "I'll treat a girl like a queen if I'm treated a king."

And just like that, he kicked the door closed behind him, muffling the struggle screaming on the other side, ignoring the propagated shitstorm like an eager Atlas guardmen's moral subconscious at a Great War internment camp. Merely holding his treasured bunny waifu in the tender way she deserved, waltzing down the dusky streets without overt fear of repercussions.

She'd make it, that's an Arc's promise. He told her as much, whispering quietly past the dreary night.

"...Hey…"

His voice subtle, lips closed in on her earlobe, yet far from touching. "It's alright, I'm making you a promise right now. Next time we do anything in broader society, I'll triple check that our trips to vegan ice cream shops won't result in physical abuse and kidnapping."

He playfully bounced her in his grip. "Arc promise, one hundred percent."

There wasn't a response, only a low drooling moan from the bottom of her throat, completely outside normal functionalities of his Bun-Bun companion on the daily.

Yet the disconnect gave no unhappiness in his whirling mind, Jaune just continued his long march home unabated by the worry worthy silence perpetrating his compromisable position.

But no Neo came, there wasn't a horde of suited men at the next corner, neither smoking thieves with canes ready to critique and bite his sensibilities down a size.

Jaune felt the minutes tick by, like a deteriorating five dollar alarm clock chucked against the wall every time it played whining and churning wake-up noises. Modestly able to partially relax while glancing the night away, enjoying the unconscious warmth Bun-Bun provided.

Unintentionally. He'll keep it at that, too.

Jaune has learned a few things tonight: namely the value of consent, and how it's probably not good to touch friends and strangers in extremely sexual and or romantic ways un-consentingly.

And that's a fact of his zoomer life, man. Changing social perspectives call for changing definitions of suitable bachelors.

He'll have to put personal politics aside, though Jaune could already feel his inner Chad whisper facts and logic through his non-boner's blowhole.

Absolutely debatable ones worth lengthy suspicion, the stuff Oobleck would probably cackle about, yet Jaune found himself enchanted by once foreign concepts of self-propriety very easily.

Still again, he might be a 'king' in a multilayered social sense, yet this smarty pants he's a' lifting? She's a queen in the making, and if he wants to court women in mass-genuinely, like he's done with Rubes and Pyr-he'll have to curb his egotist leanings and, kinda hilariously literal in saying, respect women.

Jaune reflected on that briefly, turning a corner, remembering a decent motel somewhere down the next few blocks.

Maybe not so literal…? He didn't know, Jaune has many uncertainties for a leader, and young guy in general. And it doesn't help matter when most adult influences in his life either want to touch, scold, hurt, mope, or straight up fuck him on the down low.

He's trying to craft a map of meaning, yet that knowledge of the self, that ancient wisdom is surely was, seemed lost and dulled...almost unknowable.

...But he did know Velvet's soft breathing, and he liked it, hoping she and him could get some much needed rest soon enough.

So, Jaune D'Arc kept at his grind, dodging hoes and taking risks for a better world. One step closer to a local motel at a time.

It'd be his better world, as The Waifu Collector and confronter of foreskinned malevolence.

Silly, yet it's what he's got, so he grinned and bared the chosen-somewhat, if The Brine was legitimate- burden with a hardened heart and cleared conscience.

...Yet in these moments, as Jaune walked the sidewalks and past the occasional nightlife duar cars zooming down their way, he often considers himself in abstractness.

Like his father, this distant guy named Joseph, a blip on the radar and undisclosed detail of his existence, Swept under the rug by something unknown yet potentially understandable.

Would he be proud? Would his gaze look fondly on him and say he's a good man? Who treats women with respect and helps build up those around him?

Even better: is Jaune insecure about the anger he feels at himself, and the subsequent lies The Brine-who was him, apparently-told him about himself? The self aggrandizing founded on a white lie becoming something much darker?

…

…

…

He didn't know, and nobody is gonna pick him up by the bootstraps and tell him otherwise. They act as if life was meaningless, and Monty was spiked dead on a pile of mediocrity and lack of security.

And why wouldn't they? What wouldn't suggest that outcome besides amazing people like Ruby? Like Pyrrha?

He didn't know, and that's the most terrifying realization he's had yet.