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"Alright kid, just follow my lead and stay quiet unless someone asks you something."

"Got it."

"Don't screw this up for us."

"Are you done?"

Dust crystals, weapons, and all other kinds of malicious paraphernalia were sold in the lower levels of Mistral beneath wired poles and under shady market stalls. The entire place was pretty openly criminal with people who were wearing masks purchasing put together bombs in damn near broad daylight. Or what counted for daylight down here.

We followed a spider's web marking on a wall into a dimly lit bar in which the only barrier between the inside and the elements was a flap with a Mistrali Flag on it. As though that was fooling anybody.

I took a look around the inside and noted several dozen people in similar purple drab. As if that weren't enough, many people inside had that same spider web symbol tattooed to their forearms, bicep, or even their neck. I knew enough about gangs to know one when I saw one being so open.

I wheeled Qrow in.

"That's far enough now sweetheart."

A woman sat alone at a table with two of what were clearly bodyguards on either side of her. I stopped pushing Qrow's chair and held up my hands in surrender. I wasn't about to start anything, even if some of the people we had passed were clearly on something and had glints in their eyes that made me want to draw my weapon.

Ether I hoped, but perhaps even Hyper was on the table. Literally on the table as a dude did a line of white powder nearby.

I made no move towards my weapon anyways because it wasn't like I could defend Qrow or myself in a tight space like this. We were very outnumbered and probably outgunned and entirely at the mercy of our hosts. I like to believe that I was alright in a fight, which was to say maybe I could take the lady's two body guards if it was just the three of us and I managed something clever. This was something different. We were surrounded and they were in front of us, behind us, to either side, and, just to make things worse, above us. The place had two floors that I could see.

"Well if it isn't Qrow Branwen. It's been a long time and you have gotten much shorter."

"You know, you loose one fucking fight."

"And whose this? Some new protege or apprentice?"

The bodyguards came up to search me and I cooperatively handed over my sword and shield to the girl who staggered under its weight for a second before reclaiming her balance. "Jaune Arc." I introduced myself as the dude patted me down. He came away with some fire crystals and a swiss army knife. Nothing crazy for a place like this; I mean probably. I didn't frequently search people who frequented these places.

"Didn't answer my question, hun." She probed. Jabbing at me with the spoon she held in a pudgy hand.

"He's teaching me, yes ma'am."

"Good boy. You can put those arms down." I did as she directed. "Now I'm sure you're not here just to catch up with me, now are you?"

"I'm not no." Qrow wiggled his stumps. I almost laughed. "I need a set of prosthetics, Atlesian or Valean or good enough for hunters."

Would his prosthetics transform with him or-

"It'll cost you."

I'm sure it'll be fine. Its magic so why not? I couldn't think of a good reason why his new legs wouldn't transform with him and Ozpin hadn't said anything. Not that that meant anything.

"We don't have much Lien."

"Oh Mr. Branwen. Lien is how I run my business."

"You also run it with favors and errands."

"A favor from the great Qrow Branwen." She took a long drag of either tobacco or perhaps even some greens. It smelled most like tobacco, I think though. "It would mean a lot more if he was capable of walking."

"You provide the legs and I'll do the walking. And if you don't like that then the kid isn't half bad in a fight either."

"Hmm." She pondered. "Okay." She said with a sly smile. The dude handed me back my switchblade and crystals and the girl handed back my harness with my bigger blades sheathed as though that was some well rehearsed signal.

"I'll need real surgery." Qrow admitted begrudgingly. "Not those ones you just attach and pull off. I'll need them grafted on."

"Well that'll just cost you extra. Two favors."

"Lets talk it over. Hey kid."

"Hm?" I wondered.

"Why don't you wait at the bar while we talk. You're making me nervous just standing behind me."

"Alright. Sure." Why not?

I mosied up to the bar. The bartender in purple had a kukuri and some light armor. He didn't card me or anything, just looked across the rosy counter towards me. "Whisky on the rocks." Keep it familiar, keep it simple, keep it dumb, or else you'll end up under some ganglord's thumb.

"Who's this Melanie?"

"I don't know Miltiades, some new huntsman."

"He's decent looking."

"Tall, too."

I looked around. There were two girls looking at me. They had dark hair and pale eyes. I looked them up and down. "Are you talking to me?" One had a pair of silver blades attached to white boots to match the overall assemble of a white dress. The other had red claws strapped to her back. The red claws matched a tighter red dress than the girl in white who could only be a sister. Maybe a cousin if I was stretching.

They looked damn near identical, though, so I was really stretching.

"Who else would we be talking to?" I looked around, the girl in white made a fair point. There was nobody even close to me.

"So what brings a huntsman like you down here."

"I'm with him." I pointed to Qrow, not seeing any point to lying. I pushed him into this place afterall. "Need to get him back on his feet but we're a little short on cash."

"And what is he to you?" The girl in red asked.

"He's not much, really." I answered vaguely. "I didn't catch your names."

"I'm Melanie Malachite." The girl in white introduced. "And this is-"

"Miltia." The other finished. Malachite, like the woman in charge. Well I'd better be polite and not fuck things up.

"Well, can I get the two of you a drink? Or drinks, rather?" I doubted they would be sharing.

Instead they just giggled a little at me. Cute girls laughing at me was nothing new though and after a few years it meant surprisingly little. Girls like this tended to laugh like that. It would be better for my sanity if I didn't take it personally.

"I thought you were short on cash." Miltia returned.

"Short on cash for a pair of legs. Not for three drinks." I lifted my glass to my lips. It was already empty and the glass clinked around in no liquid. "Make that four drinks. What'll you two have?"

"A white russian," Miltia said.

"A hurricane."

I ordered for them and another whiskey for me. Then I slid the red drink to the girl in white and the white drink to the girl in red. I was sixty percent sure they were fucking with me. Somehow.

But they took drinks from their cocktails with a familiarity that threw me off. Maybe they did drink these exact drinks a bit. I nursed my own, making sure to take it slower on my second glass of something straight.

The last thing Qrow and I needed was for me to be wasted.

"So where are you from?" Melanie pulled back from her red drink and bounced out the words. I hope she wasn't clumsy because that drink would stain like a nightmare.

"Vale. I uh, used to go to Beacon." I took my weapons off my back and set them on the stool to my left. The stool on my right was occupied by Miltia.

"We're from Vale too." Miltia said.

"Not really the biggest fans of Beacon students but we can make an exception."

"Lucky me." I slipped. "Well the 'ex-Beacon student' is kinda important anyways."

"But we left with the collapse." Melanie added.

"Decided it just wasn't safe enough." Miltia clarified.

"Makes sense. I left pretty quickly after it happened myself. How did you two get here then?"

"Airship." Miltia informed me.

"Our parents own several so we just flew." Sisters, then.

"Must have been nice."

"Sounds like there's a story to how you got here." Miltia pressed.

"I walked, rode horses, and took a train. Just extra steps comparatively. More monsters, you know?"

Melanie blinked. "You ride horses?"

"Well aren't you a regular old fashioned knight." She eyed me in my thick armor. She may be reading into my look and figuring some other things.

"I had to learn on the way. It's not like that."

"Did Qrow Branwen teach you?"

"You two know Qrow?"

"We know about Qrow." Miltia corrected.

"Some hunters are famous like that."

"Him and his sister are both well known but there are others too."

"Winter Schnee, Glynda Goodwitch, General Ironwood." Melanie counted.

"Well Qrow didn't teach me that but I suppose he is mentoring me in other things."

"Like what?" Miltia asked.

"Like being a better fighter, I guess. He knows a lot about how to kill things, and not much else to be completely honest with you." I reached the bottom of my drink and debated with myself before ordering another one. I was on the heavy side anyways, so it should be fine? "I really try not to take his advice on other things."

"You're a heavy drinker." Melanie watched me order more whiskey.

"Yeah. That's one of those things I really don't want to pick up from Qrow but it might be too late. I might have the sort of addictive personality that leans that way."

"You're not sure?"

"I'm really not the kind of guy that goes to bars much."

"You seem like a regular to bar or club life."

"Yeah. With the right haircut you could be a plain old ladykiller."

I blushed. "I don't think so."

"Come on."

"Nobody likes a good-looking guy with no confidence."

"Nobody likes a guy with the wrong kind of confidence either. Trust me on that one." I sucked on my third drink. My vision was getting a little shaky and my lips and face a little looser. "Where did you girls train?"

"Train?"

"Get your huntswomen training, I mean."

"Huntswomen." Miltia giggled.

"I know he's so careful." Melanie laughed back.

"Listen, I have gotten my ass beat by so many women that it pays to jump through that kind of hoop."

"We don't have any formal training." Miltia returned to the previous question.

"We're from the mean streets of Vale."

"We're with the gang so…" Miltia finished.

"I see." I nodded along.

"You think it doesn't count?" Melanie prompted.

"It's probably more real than any training someone gets at like, Signal." I disagreed with her implication. ."My real training came from after Beacon fell, in the wild. Hunting criminals and real Grimm instead of practice dummies or training partners."

"Plus whatever Branwen is teaching you."

"Eh." I managed. "The chair happened around the same time that I met him. Most of the training he has given me has been verbal rather than hands on. All, really." I slurred slightly.

"You seem perfectly capable anyways."

"Maybe gang life would suit you."

I watched Miltia trade drinks with Melanie. They took a pull from the others' drink in perfect synchronization. At my look she leaned over. "We don't mind sharing things." She winked.

"Uh huh." I managed stupidly.

"Are you done flirting." Qrow had rolled up on me without me noticing. No mean feat from the chair.

"I really wouldn't know flirting if it walked up and stabbed me in the front."

"Well stop it. Come on. I worked out our favors from Lil' Miss Malachite." I said my valedictions, grabbed my tools, and wheeled him back over to the woman in charge.

"So what's the first favor?" I wondered.

"I need someone killed." She splayed her hands across the table. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Well it depends on who it is, doesn't it."

"Does it?" She pressed me.

"Of course. It matters who it is to you too."

"Smart boy. It's a dust witch in a rival gang named Eminence Kramer."

"And the second favor?"

"I need information out of one Don Corneo." She took a long drag. "You decide the order. I don't particularly care. After that we'll get Qrow here a new set of legs and the surgery to boot."

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-WG