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I pulled up on Juniors with my bike. I dismounted the tank-like motorcycle I had dubbed Fenrir. I locked Fenrir behind me and made my way into the club. I walked around the dancefloor and over to the bar. I had bag with my new dress shirt in the back trunk. Two errands at the same time.
"Three shots of vodka, I've also got an appointment with Junior. Let him know I'm here," I told the man with a hat and red glasses working behind the bar. He mixed my drinks first and then left his compatriots behind. I slumped down and hammered two of the shots. I held onto the last one to savor it and I sipped it slowly and boredly.
I didn't have to wait long. Junior came to me this time and paced over to the bar.
"Said you were callin' in that favor?" I asked. "Need somebody killed?"
"You'd be a better judge of that. I need someone taken care of. If they have to die then they have to die," he informed me. "Come with me. We'll get a private room upstairs. Don't worry about your tab."
I followed him up some steps to the second floor. We got a private booth. "What'll you drink?" He asked.
"Rum and cola. Like a tall rum and cola," I told him. He ordered it digitally on a tablet in our private room. "Details, details, details…" I trailed.
"There's a serial killer in town. The cops don't know it yet but I do," he sighed deeply.
"This one's free. I kill serial killers on the house. Keep your favor."
"You sure?" He asked and blinked at me.
"Yep. Same reason I killed Raven Branwen. She was crazy powerful and she had to go down. I still want the details though."
"They have aura. There's only been three killings and they look like suicides. They aren't."
"How do you know?" I wondered.
"I've had some boys survive an encounter with the killer. Eye witnesses I have no reason to suspect. The semblance is wicked powerful though."
"I need a name."
"Cerise Genfield."
"Ratings?"
"Blaster six, at least. Shaker eight. Maybe a little higher."
I whistled. "Keep it comin'."
"Uses a sniper rifle and has a gravity manipulation semblance. The suicides look like jumpers but she just lifts 'em up and drops them. When she fought my boys she was able to set herself up as a gravity well and shoot her bullets out of it. Anytime my boys got close she'd fling 'em back with pseudo telekinesis. This gonna be a problem for you?"
"What's the maximum amount of 'g's she can put on a person?"
"I don't know. At least ten if you get close enough. I think she's stronger the closer you are to her. I'm not sure about that."
"I can take her," I murmured. "If that's all then I can beat her."
Our drinks came. Junior ordered a screwdriver. He drank deeply from it and set it aside and glanced over at where I sat.
"Victims?" I asked.
"Three so far. All faunus. All suspected White Fang members."
"Were they?" I asked.
"Two of 'em had some activity. Only one was a hardcore member."
"What's her location?" I wondered.
"Unknown."
"Well I'll start pulling leads. Might involve the Engelberts if I have to."
"Maybe. They might charge you, though."
"People will die in the meantime if I don't. I don't rate very highly in the Thinker department. And that's if I rate in there at all. I expect that if you hear anything you'll come through for me."
"Naturally," he returned. He took another pull and grunted.
"There will be more victims before I pin her down, what's her total body count?"
"Seven so far."
"It's low," I murmured a touch surprised.
"Is it?" He asked me genuinely.
"Pretty low. Raven's was probably triple digits. So was Taurus's."
"And yours?"
"I'm probably pushing quadruple digits," I confessed. "I once killed two hundred of Don Corneo's men in one night. You heard of Don Corneo?"
"Before Black Out Day. He worked against the Malachites in Mistral. They're close allies of mine."
"That was almost two years ago. I've been killin' since then like nobody's business." I sucked on my drink. "You work closely with the Malachites?" I asked.
"All the time. Why?"
"Had a spat that ended badly with them around that same time I fought Don Corneo's boys. Nothing violent but I'd certainly like to smooth it over. Make sure there's no hard feelings. Can you help with that?"
"On the house," he agreed. The last thing he wanted was a fight between me and his close allies. And if I wanted to patch things up then it was probably in his best interest to make sure that they did get patched up because the alternative was that I started filling body bags.
"What's the local White Fang activity look like?" I wondered.
"As a gang they've been non-existent. As a political movement they lost allies like it was going out of fashion since Black Out Day. Because it was going out of fashion. The only thing worse for business than serial killers are the Grimm. I hear they still have some big branches in Menagerie, Vacuo, and even Mistral. But the places they really got started like here or Atlas they've been basically wiped out. They're extinct."
"Any big faunus gangs?" I asked.
"Malchites and I both hire on faunus. But if you're looking for exclusively faunus you want Tiger's Paw. They're small. Mostly softcore drugs and very little murder. You can work with them usually but they don't hire on human hands as members."
"Terrorism?" I pressed.
"Not so much. Bad for business. Brings the Vale Guard into the equation. Nobody likes throwing hands with them if they can help it. Better to lay low."
"I need the names of all the White Fang members you know of and highlight the ones you think could be next for her. What was her name again? Better send that to me too. I'm not so good with names."
"Cerise Genfield was what it was. And I can do that but it's still a lot of fish in your net, chief."
"Yeah but unless I bring in the Engelberts or she kills again I've done plum run out of options, son. Have to have a big net or I'll miss her for sure. I could go any bigger and get the names of every faunus you know of but that's probably way too big of a net with way too many fish. I have to be as tight as I can with it. I have to assume that she's on the right track when she kills again. I can't assume she'll mess up one more time or I'll miss her for sure. Cast the net for me and let's see what turns up. Who knows? We might get lucky and zing! We'll get a big catch."
"But probably not," he said.
"Probably not," I agreed. "We'll probably have to wait for her to kill again."
"I'd hoped to end this quickly. Keep the cops uninvolved. Too many more killings too quickly and they'll start ruling suicide out. Cops will start crawling around. It isn't good for business."
"You want it done that bad you can call up the Engelberts and get me some more information. I'll kill her. You need to help me find her. And as soon as I get more information I can let Neo off the chain. See what she can scare up."
He looked uncomfortable with Neo being set loose in his city. Too bad. She was too useful to not make use of. It would just be a waste.
"Relax, I'm not gonna let her torture your boys. Or the Malachites either if you help me out with that. I probably won't even let her eat up Tiger's Paw kids. She's too useful to be put on the sidelines and if I have to let her torture a serial killer to keep her happy then big fuckin' whoop."
"The implication is if you run out of serial killers she'll get bored."
"I'm sure we can find more targets. There have to be some gangs in this city you're on bad terms with."
"Blue Hat," he grunted, nodding.
"See, there you go. Neo get's people to torture and you get to run drugs unimpeded. Everybody wins."
"Blue Hat doesn't win," he pointed out.
"For some of us to be winners, some of us have to be losers. That's not my fault."
"You deploy that psychopath," he disagreed. "It's sorta kinda your fault," he accused. He did it gently so that I wouldn't rip him in half.
"Well, maybe a little," I said. I sucked on my drink some. "Keep me informed and keep your ear to the ground and if you want the twins involved, then involve them. Lila's Thinker power could help here and serial killers are bad for business. But on the bright side I'm gonna get a new trophy to hang on my wall. So there's that."
"Oh?"
"I collect weapons. From serial killers and other big game," I waved a hand. "It's a hobby. Raven Branwen, Adam Taurus, this serial killer named Tyrian Callows, Cinder Fall. They all have little places on my shelves."
"Well, we all need a hobby." He took a really long drink of orange juice and vodka.
"That we do," I laughed a little.
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Junior sent me the information and I breezed through it on my desktop in my office. My net had caught absolutely dick and I still didn't have the information I needed to have Neo start following people home at night and pin this sucker down. I sighed a little and ran my hand through my hair. I clicked my jaw shut and stood.
I paced over to my trophies under the glass. I opened the case and picked up one of Tyrian's blades. I tested the edge on my finger and found it was still sharp.
"Professor?" I turned towards the door. It was Crystal Velcruse. She was sort of hesitantly standing in the doorway. I put my toy away and clicked the display case shut.
"Miss Velcruse," I greeted. "How can I help you?"
"Well, we have our missions coming up and I… I wasn't sure who to talk to. You know the details of my semblance already."
"Have a seat," I suggested. She walked in and I shut the door behind her. "Tell me. What's this about?"
"Well, it's just that I'm driving myself crazy imagining different scenarios for the mission. Like, posing different hypothetical questions to my semblance but since I won't be finding out the details of the mission until they're actually assigned I've been driving myself spare."
"I see? Heart racing? Mind whirling? Sweat? Chills?"
"I'm not sick."
"Well you don't appear to be," I sat down behind my desk at my words. "I'm thinking more of anxiety."
"Anxiety? I'm a huntress?"
"So? You're a person first and a hunter second. Even hunters go through mental illness."
"Like you?" She leveraged and I had to wonder what all she had seen.
"Especially me," I agreed. "Those of us with the most power are the most tempted to use it. Abuse of power is just one of the things that can spring out of being hunters. Anxiety. PTSD. Depression. Schizophrenia. Panic. All of these things happen to hunters as naturally as they do all other people. If not more so due to the trauma hunters endure. I'd recommend you see a counselor and describe what you're going through to them."
"Shouldn't you?"
"Probably," I agreed. "Are you using your semblance on me? Right now?" She looked away. "I have PTSD and Schizoaffective disorder. As I'm sure you already know."
"I didn't actually," she said. "It's hard to trust me, isn't it?"
"A little," I granted. "But you're the one setting the terms. You can change them. I recommend therapy. It's not a weakness to admit you need help."
"But you don't use therapy."
"No one alive can save me from myself," I informed her as brutally as I could. "I'm the problem. Me. I need there to be powerful checks against my power to remain in balance. The headmistress helps."
"But you could beat her. You could destr-"
"Ahp," I cut her off. I sighed. "I didn't want to know!"
"You already knew," she pointed out.
I gave her a halfhearted glare. "What are you looking for?"
"I want… well I want to stop panicking about things that I can't change. Like the missions coming up. I want to just be able to let whatever happens happen and let it wash me over. How do I do that?"
"Go out and relax. See a movie. Go enjoy the festival. Go out and drink or dance or both. Don't use your semblance all the time. This dependency on seeing the future is crippling your ability to live in the present. That's my diagnosis. I'm not a therapist. So take it with a grain of salt or a whole helping. I think it's giving you an anxiety attack or a panic attack. Again, I'm not a doctor. But it can't be good for you to spend all your time in the future. Try and live in the present with your team. They can be your supports if you let them. But I bet you aren't letting them. You're using your semblance on them. You're hiding it from them. You're abusing the power you have over the present by constantly looking ahead. That's what I think."
"I see."
"Your turn," I ordered.
"My turn?" She wondered.
"What do I do about my mental illness? You want to use your semblance so badly, so you tell me. Should I seek therapy? Should I seek psychiatry? What do I need to do? What's my win condition here?"
"There's… there's no path to victory. You know that. At least not as far ahead as I can see," she admitted. She didn't meet my eyes.
"I didn't think so," I sighed. "We're both messes. You and me. For different reasons. You know you have to stop using your semblance all the time. I don't use mine all the time even though it feels really good."
"Why not?"
"Because when you're that strong the world turns to paper mache and I don't want to break anything or hurt anybody by accident."
"What about yourself?"
"What the fuck about me?" I think I managed to surprise her by swearing because she glanced back at me. "Seriously what the fuck about me? What is anybody going to do about me? I'm a problem with no good answers. At all. You still have some options available to you. You can choose to trust your team and live in the present even though that's hard. I won't lie to you. That's some hard shit right there. But if the rest of us can do it and we're happier for it then so can you. I bet… what was it? Fifteen minutes? I bet you live on the edge of that fifteen minutes. I bet you never stop thinking about fifteen minutes from now. You just coast on by with your semblance on autopilot and you're fucking miserable."
"You're fucking miserable," she pointed out. Touché.
"What do I do about it?" I asked.
"Write a letter to team RWBY," she said. "Who is team RWBY?" Just because she could see what to say didn't mean she knew what it meant.
"My friends. Those that remain. I'll do that. The whole of team RWBY or just Weiss and Ruby."
"Just Weiss and Ruby. Why just Weiss and Ruby?"
"None of your business," I said. "Get out of my head now. Do you mind? Shutting that thing off? For two fucking seconds?"
"A little bit," she whimpered.
"Come on. You can probably literally see that this is unhealthy for you. Ask yourself what will happen if you don't stop using it for just combat. Ask."
"You just told me to stop using it," she protested.
"You don't even want to ask," I fired across the desk. "Come on. You're destroying yourself. You're in my head and I'm just trying to help you. Ask."
"I'll be sad. Forever. But if I turn it off I just have to… to trust?"
"Yeah," I agreed.
"You have to trust too, then," she bargained.
"Who?"
"Yourself?" She wondered.
I wanted to reach across the table and strangle her. I did not. I sighed. "I'll write the letter. Go see a therapist. Quit poking around in other people's heads just because you can. Stick to using it for combat. That's my prognosis."
"Thank you, Professor."
"It was nothing. And you said some stuff I probably needed to hear."
"Goodbye," she valedicted.
She got up and left my office.
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-WG
