Cool, so, yesterday I went for my first covid vaccine.

Again.

Turns out another complication of my records fuck up was that I got the vaccine "off the record" and since there's no way of figuring out why, what or when they want me to do it all again. I'm assured it's safe. Or as safe as can be. Really feels more like "acceptable risk" than safe, but okay sure. My arm feels painful this morning and I have a headache but nothing outside expected symptoms.

Very annoying though. At least it's Pfizer this time.

Okay, posting early afternoon and now my left arm is just sort of dead and aching all the time. Still within expected symptoms but kind of a pain in the but for writing! At least I get tomorrow off to rest it.

Chapter 25

Someone wanted him dead.

The thought flipped and flopped in Jaune's head like a fish out of water. It took a long while to sink in, time spent with the man groaning and making excuses, lying to Miltia's face and unable to come up with a good explanation for why he had Jaune's photo in his pocket. That he'd come with a knife and tried to use it made it clear this was no undercover police officer. After weeks, he'd finally come to accept that he was going to be forced into criminal activity, but this…? This was new.

Why would someone want to kill me? I haven't done anything…

Unless Meg? No. She'd already gotten in trouble once by working with a gang and she wasn't likely to do so again. Jaune swallowed, licking his suddenly dry lips and not even flinching when Miltia delivered a harsh slap to the already bloody man's face. It was less than what that man would have done to him if Melanie and the bouncers hadn't been there.

"Who sent you!?" Miltia hissed, gripping his collar with one hand and raising her other threateningly. "Who the fuck sent you to mess with the Xiong Clan, huh?"

"N-No one…" he croaked.

"Rargh!" The sharp smack of her hand on his face echoed through the basement. Blood sprayed through the air. "Do you think I won't kill you? I like to think my reputation is better than that. These claws aren't for show."

"F… Fuck you…"

The back of Miltia's hand caught him below the eye and sent him spinning to the floor. She slammed her foot into his midriff for good measure, then did it a second time. Jaune swore he heard something crack – probably a rib. The victim curled up, coughing and hacking blood from his bruised and bloody jaw.

It should have stirred something in him. Anger, pity, shock or horror. Instead, Jaune felt cold and detached. Not calm – not by any means – but unsympathetic to what was going on. His eyes remained locked on the man, and he made no move to stop Miltia hauling him back up and placing her bladed claws against his throat. The man that had tried to murder him.

I nearly died tonight, Jaune thought dully. Holy shit…

"You think he's from the Ravagers?" Jaune whispered hoarsely to Melanie. "Is he from Kane?"

"Don't make any assumptions," she whispered back as Miltia continued wailing on the man. "It's the most likely, but we can't start a war if we're not sure. He has the most reason to want you gone, but it's not like they're the only ones that'd benefit from the Xiong Clan imploding."

"Would it? Implode, I mean? I didn't know I was that important."

"You're not. Two bosses in under a year, though? People would start to see that as a sign the Clan is on the way out. Membership would drop and other gangs would smell blood in the water."

Glad to know his survival was so important. Jaune winced as another meaty thwack echoed through the basement. It was becoming increasingly clear that it wouldn't stop anytime soon, and that even if it did, it would only end one way. His hands shook and he crossed his arms to hide them. This was what the gangs did. They schemed and they plotted and they sent people to kill one another. Or whack. Wasn't that what it was called when gangs did it in the movies? Someone had tried to whack him.

"Give me a name!" Miltia roared.

"…"

Growling, she dragged the unresponsive but still conscious man up. He was a mess now, broken teeth and glazed-over eyes, spittle and drool and blood running down his chest. Never in his life had he seen someone so utterly ruined. It was a miracle he was still breathing, though even that sounded laborious.

"He ain't talking," she spat. "Useless bastard." She rattled his head with another violent slap. "What shall we do with 'im boss?"

Panic set in, freezing Jaune to the spot. Of course it would be his decision. He was the boss, the leader, at least that was what had to be shown, and it was his job to decide what happened to the man who tried to kill him. The Xiong Clan's, and his own, reputation would be affected by what he did.

There was only one real option. Kill him.

It was obvious. Painfully obvious. This man had tried to murder him, and the price of failure had to be death. Probably something horrible, too, like cementing his feet and tossing him off the docks to drown or beating him to death and hanging his body up somewhere to be found come morning. It was theatrical – Jaune's mind was full of frightened movie scenes – but then this was the rare moment where theatre was needed. What was the point of making an example of someone if you didn't let people see you'd done it? The public wouldn't know, but the gang who sent this guy would. It would be a message.

And all he had to do was order the death of someone. Kill someone. It wouldn't be by his own hands, but it'd be just as bad. He'd be responsible. It would be murder, plain and simple. Even if he walked away and didn't watch, he'd know Miltia had killed a man on his orders.

His lips wouldn't work. His brain wouldn't work. The silence must have been mistaken for threatening because otherwise Melanie would have dragged him away already for making a fool of himself. Maybe he could leave it to Miltia. Walk away and tell her to handle it. That would wash his hands of the responsibility, wouldn't it?

No. Miltia would kill the man and Jaune knew that, so leaving it to her was no better. The same for Melanie. She may have been a nicer person, but she was still a gangster and wouldn't hesitate to mete out justice.

Why am I acting like it would be unfair? This guy tried to murder me. Doesn't he deserve to suffer the same fate?

Probably. Certainly. This wasn't some drunken, accidental attack. It was premeditated murder. He wasn't hurting anyone who wouldn't have done the same to someone else. It was probably even a blessing to get a monster like this off the streets.

And yet how could he kill someone?

I want to be a huntsman! A huntsman wouldn't kill someone like this.

"Don't kill him."

Melanie sighed. Miltia visibly bristled. The men around them looked annoyed, but the bleeding and broken man dared to raise his head, a glimmer of hope appearing in his eyes.

Jaune closed his own, trying to act tough and justify it. "We don't know who sent him and I'd rather this idiot send a message back to his employers. I could have it carved into his back but there might not be room enough." Steeling himself, Jaune walked forward and gripped the man's hair, dragging his face up. "Are you prepared to deliver a message for me? Feel free to say no if you're not and I'll leave you to Miltia."

His head bobbed. He gurgled something that might have been a "yes".

"Good. Tell your employers that this isn't a mercy. Tell them that the only reason you're alive today is because I want them to see what we do to people who fuck with us." Jaune growled as he swore, trying to inject every bit of anger he could muster into the words, all to mask the fact he was shaking. "Tell them that if they so much as breathe on my turf, I'll put a stop to it. That if they touch one business on our land, I will personally cut that hand off. That if they talk back, I'll cut out their tongues. That if they dare to harm one of ours, I'll pay it back a hundredfold. If you attack one of my men, I'll kill one of yours." He shook the man's head, pushing his face in close. "And heavens forbid you managed to kill one of mine, because then I'll wreak such vengeance on your pathetic little gang that the history books will talk about it."

He let the man's head go and watched him fall onto all fours. There was blood on his hands – not metaphorically but literally. Jaune grimaced and wiped his hands on his sleeves.

"Take him away," he ordered the members of the Xiong Clan. "Make sure he's off our territory and cut him loose. Don't let anyone see him coming from here. If he causes you any trouble, do whatever you need to. I don't think he's in a state to do anything right now though."

Four suited gangsters came forward to take him away, two of them hauling him up by his arms and the others going ahead to open doors. The rest of them dispersed, leaving him alone with Miltia and Melanie. Jaune sucked in a breath, knowing they wouldn't be happy.

"I couldn't kill him," he said.

"The hell you couldn't have!" Miltia spat. "You could have had me kill him!"

"It would have been the same thing! I'd still be killing him!"

"You do realise this sends a poor message to the ones responsible," Melanie said in a much more measured tone. "You tried with your threats, but actions speak louder than words. They'll see this as weakness on your part."

"Maybe it is weakness… I didn't ask to be in this position…"

"You didn't, but you are, and now it's sink or swim." Melanie shook her head, gestured to Miltia and made to leave. "Let's hope this doesn't backfire. If it does, more will suffer for your self-righteousness."

It wasn't self-righteousness to not want to murder someone. That was called basic human decency. Morality. Ethics. Whatever you wanted to use. All those arguments would mean so little to the twins, and he knew they were giving him an easy out by walking away. In reality, they must have been furious. He was too, more about the attempted assassination than anything, but he couldn't stoop to their level.

I'm not a killer, Jaune thought. I'm just not.

/-/

Qrow caught him on the way home. That might have been suspicious if the huntsman didn't smell of booze. Even drunk, the man took one look at him and stared.

"Is that blood? What happened?"

"Fight at the club," Jaune said evasively. "Someone tried to stab me."

"Shit." Qrow whistled. "You're okay, I take it?"

"Bouncers stepped in before anyone got hurt. Well, other than the one doing it. They… roughed him up a little."

"Can't say he didn't deserve it if that's the case." Qrow paused to look him up and down, then said, "You look shaken. You need a drink." He looped an arm around Jaune's shoulder and steered him to the next door along. "Come on, I need a few more before I sleep anyway."

"It's fine-"

"This'll help. Trust me." Qrow unlocked his own door and led them in. The man's room wasn't as messy as he would have believed from looking at Qrow. A lot of that appeared to be from a lack of anything to make a mess with. Aside from some pictures on the walls and a few magazines and cans of beer, the man didn't have too much in the way of belongings. "Sometimes you need to unwind after a life or death situation. Most huntsmen have their vice. Drink, smokes or sex. It's a coping mechanism."

"I hope you're not bringing me here for the latter."

"Ha!" Qrow laughed. "My plans to groom you have been found out already, huh? Shit." He shoved Jaune down onto a threadbare couch and rummaged in the beer for some bottles of beer. "Guess I'll need to find another guy to seduce." Using a bottle opener, he popped the caps off. "Here."

Jaune didn't hesitate to drink. Juniper might have had something to say about the budding alcoholism, but it was hard not to have a few drinks when you worked at a club. At least it was saved for weekends. The strong taste and frothy beer hit hard, which was exactly what he needed. It stole his breath away, and that helped distract from the misery.

"So, you kick the shit out of the guy that tried to knife you?"

"I wish." Jaune sighed and hung his head, the beer bottle held between his knees. "I was kinda pathetic to be honest. Just managed to dodge and knock it away – totally panicked. What kind of huntsman nearly gets stabbed on a night out?"

"A realistic one." Qrow leaned forward and tapped the left side of his neck. There was a small scar there, healed over but deep. "Know how I got this?"

"Grimm?"

"Yeah right. If a Grimm could cause a scar like this, it'd have taken my head off. This is from back in Beacon. Got drunk, convinced myself I could balance and walk across a metal railing, slipped, fell off and nearly cut my neck open on it." Qrow held a hand up, finger and thumb held close. "This near to death. the shit out of Taiyang, I tell ya."

"I can imagine…"

"Yeah. Point is, just because we're kickass huntsmen and we have aura and sweet ass weapons and all these crazy Semblances, we're still people at the end of the day. We make dumb decisions, let our guards down and fuck up." Qrow grinned. "Sure, getting knifed by someone in a fight is pathetic, but not knowing what to do when someone ambushes you when you're enjoying a night out? There's nothing wrong with that. No one keeps their guard up all the time, kid. You gotta relax at some point."

It helped to hear that. Jaune smiled weakly. "I guess…"

"And don't worry about not being at your best. I regularly cut my way through ten times my number in Grimm, but I still remember walking into my niece's room when she was getting dressed. She panicked and thumped me in the gut, and I tell you now, I have never been so winded in my life." Qrow laughed. "It's the shots you don't see coming that hurt the most. And you end up flailing around like an idiot. All that training and experience." He made a one-handed motion by his ear. "Poof. Gone. You've been laid out flat by a thirteen year old."

Jaune laughed. "Did that really happen?"

"Course it did. I tell you now if you'd known it was coming then you'd have done fine. Disarmed the guy, knocked him down and looked like a damn champion. You didn't, though. Right?"

"I was taking drinks to some new friends. He came out of nowhere and knocked them all over me."

"There you have it. You were distracted. Happens to the best of us. Literally," he added. "Some of the strongest, most skilled huntsmen and huntresses have ended up dying in the worst ways. Traffic accidents, hit and runs, training incidents. It's not always Grimm that do us in. Can't defend from what you can't see coming."

Jaune nodded. It made a lot of sense, more than he'd cared to think of, and it helped. Maybe he hadn't been so pathetic to not be able to defend himself. That was one problem dealt with. Now he just needed to come to terms with the other. That was something Qrow couldn't help him with, however. It was on the other side of the law entirely.

"Thanks. For the advice," he added. "And the drinks. And company…"

"Heh. No worries." Qrow wiggled his eyebrows. "Can't groom you if I don't keep you close, can I?"

"True." Jaune snorted. "You know, you're not the first person who tried to matchmake me tonight."

"Oh really?" Qrow sensed a story, and whether he was actually all that interested in the non-existent love life of a seventeen year old or not, he knew Jaune was talking to take his mind off things and encouraged him. "Tell me more about the young man or woman trying to steal my boytoy away from me. I need to know the competition."

"Well…"

/-/

"Better. Your stance is better." Doctor Oobleck congratulated him after another two hours of honestly brutal training. Jaune sagged and let the tip of Crocea Mors touch the floor. In the background, Dove gave him a huge grin and a thumbs up.

"T-Thank you. I feel exhausted…"

"Proper training will always leave you drained and sore. That is how you know it is worthwhile. Never allow yourself to end a session any other way. You're wasting your time otherwise."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said between pants. "Is there anything I can do on my own time?"

"Absolutely. I've taken the time to write you up a training plan for your own hours." He retrieved a folded-up piece of paper and handed it over. Inside was a chart detailing days and training. Two were dedicated for rest – Tuesday and Friday. The rest were busy. "Don't do any extra training on the weekends. That is what we are here for. Much of this is resistance training for now. Weights, push-ups, running. The best huntsmen are born from the best foundations. Your skill matters little if you lack the strength, stamina and flexibility to make use of it. If you have trouble with any of the exercises, look them up online and be sure to watch videos. It is more important you have the technique down. Ten proper push-ups are worth thirty botched ones."

"I'll do them properly."

"I hope so. Do I take it then that you wish to continue these lessons from here on out?"

"Absolutely." Jaune said. "I'm in this for the long haul."

"Capital." Oobleck smiled. "Perseverance is a huntsman's greatest strength. Work hard now, Mr Arc, and it shall all pay off in time. That much I promise you."

Hard work. That wasn't something he felt all too afraid now, which made him wonder why he'd shied away from it in the past. Hei was right. I had the opportunity to train before coming to Vale, but I just assumed I'd get it all for free in Beacon. Man, I was such an idiot.

After a late morning, later breakfast and intensive lessons with Ruby on the benefits and maintenance of non-dust weaponry – crossbows, swords and the like – followed by all this training, his bad mood over the previous night had all but disappeared. The twins still didn't have anything on who sent the guy, but as far as he was concerned, no news was good news. The gangs were quiet, the Lumens had been made aware and security around the Club was being tightened in precaution for a repeat attempt.

As a result, they'd even decided to take him off the bar for tonight and have him work stocks in Hei's old office. Not something to complain about given how much more relaxing an evening that'd be. He was almost looking forward to the chance to kick back and relax.

Dove came up with a towel and a bottle of fresh mineral water as was fast becoming customary. "Good work," he said as Jaune drank heavily. "You're really sticking it out. I'm impressed."

"Nah." Jaune wiped his lips clean. "It's no more than what you lot do."

"You're overestimating us. We're not pushed that hard in classes. A lot of what you learn here is theory. Sure, you get combat classes every few days but those are more to show you where you stand and give overall tips. You're expected to handle training in your own time."

Really? If so, that was even more reason why he'd have been screwed if he got in. "Isn't that a little backwards? I thought the purpose of a school was to teach you."

"It is, but schools don't teach what you should already know. We all learned how to train in pre-schools. Signal, Sanctum and the like. Not much point them drilling home what we should be able to do on our own." He gestured to the training room Oobleck had him working in. "That's why they provide all this. They give us the facilities to train, the incentive and the time. The rest is up to us."

That kind of freedom felt as exciting as it was dangerous. Maybe now he'd use that time to train, but before he had a feeling he'd have goofed off, and he couldn't imagine some people didn't. "Do people use it to train?"

"Some do. We do. Sometimes," he admitted. "I know some people go insane with it, and then there are some who barely do any at all. I'd say we're about middle of the pack. I think that's why we have combat class at all to be honest. It's meant as a kick up the butt when you get your ass beat by someone in class. Those at the bottom realise they need to train more and put the time in." He shrugged. "Or so the theory goes."

"Does it work?"

"Seems to for Cardin. He's been hitting the track like a madman ever since Xiao-Long creamed him. Won't help much," he said sadly. "She's a direct counter to him. Close range fighter, too close for his mace to do anything, and even if he did get a good hit, it'd just power her Semblance up."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"It isn't. Don't think it's supposed to be. We're training to fight Grimm anyway, not each other. Cardin won't die if he doesn't beat her." He grinned. "Though from the way he acts, you wouldn't think it."

Jaune laughed. "Do you think he has a crush on her?"

"Doubt it. Might have once, or at least thought she was hot, but he can't stand her now. It's all testosterone now, baby. Cardin angry. Cardin smash."

"Do you have to make me out as some barbarian, Dove?"

Cardin stood with arms crossed and eyebrow raised, Sky and Russel snickering at his side. Far from be intimidated, Dove slung an arm around Jaune's shoulder and said, "Hey. If the shoe fits."

"I'd smash you, but you might like it too much," Cardin grumbled. "And no, there's nothing between that arrogant cow and me. I prefer women to violent apes. I just want her to eat the floor for once. Pop that over-inflated head of hers."

"Hmhm." Dove stage-whispered. "It's love."

"Like hell it is!"

Jaune laughed with them. It felt good to be able to.

/-/

Hei's office had been meticulously cleaned since his death, enough so that there was no sign of it. Walking in still brought a sense of melancholy that he doubted would ever fully fade, but Jaune sat down behind the heavy desk and forced himself to be still.

"There's still no sign of who was behind the hit," Tony said. "No messages have been sent, neither threats nor a response to your own."

"Do you also think I was wrong to let him go?"

"Yes." Tony spared no thought for his feelings. "Don't get me wrong, I understand why you did it and why you couldn't bring yourself to kill him, but it was the wrong decision. I can't change that."

Jaune grimaced. "Fine. As long as you don't expect me to start killing."

Tony shrugged and changed the subject. "I've got some of the boys working the bar tonight. We're checking everyone that comes in. Benefit of it being a public attack is that we can do that without anyone raising questions. No one will be allowed back doors, but that doesn't mean you're safe. No windows here obviously, but one of our own could be bribed."

"Are there loyalty issues in the Clan?"

"I'd like to say no but that's naïve. Anyone can be bought if the sum is big enough. We'll be limiting access to me, Miltia and Melanie all the same. Things are safer that way. Anyone else comes in, immediately activate your aura and push the button under the desk." He paused for Jaune to fiddle around and find it. It wasn't hard. "That's a panic button Hei had installed. Will send the twins a signal, along with the back rooms. People will come running. All you need to do is last. Shouldn't be too hard if they send someone as amateur as the last."

"Will they? What if they send a huntsman?"

"Then we're all fucked." Tony said bluntly. "But let's be real, no huntsman worth their salt is going to do this, and if they did have someone like that on their pay, they'd have sent them the first time."

Translation: He wasn't important enough to warrant a huntsman. Jaune didn't share the enthusiasm but nodded all the same. It really felt like criminal gangs would have huntsmen working for them. Why not when they were so strong? It must have had something to do with law enforcement. Maybe the city clamped down that much harder on huntsmen who broke the law violently. Not that they had for Meg, but maybe attacks were more worth the punishment than petty crime and bribery.

"Hey," Jaune opined. "I had an idea for a laundering company I wanted to run by you. If you have time?"

Tony sighed. "You are the boss. You decide my time."

"Do you, though?"

"Yes. I have time. Melanie and Miltia asked me to help you if you need it anyway, so I'll always be free if I'm on the clock." Tony took a seat across the desk. "What were you thinking?"

"A brewery."

Tony frowned. "That's a little expensive. Do you have any idea how much up-front money would be needed to open our own brewery? It's not exactly as cheap as a massage parlour. We'd need the premises, the machinery, the distillery, raw materials, barrels and storage. It would cost a lot."

"I considered that." Jaune said. "But here's the thing. It wouldn't just be good for being able to launder more during the Vytal Festival. You said before that we launder by faking beer orders here, right?"

"Yes…"

"Well what if that beer came from our own brewery? We could market it as a craft beer, hike the price up because of how premium it is and charge double or triple the amount we usually do. Best thing is, we wouldn't even need to dump the beer after because we're the ones making it. We just don't make it in the first place. Ship empty kegs or kegs of water."

Tony drummed his fingers on the table. "Hmm. It might work." He sounded a little uncertain still. "The start-up costs would still be pretty high. Much higher than what we'd usually do for a laundering business. That said…" He cupped his chin. "We could double dip on it. Move into the counterfeits market."

Jaune made a confused sound.

"Counterfeit drinks," Tony explained. "Premium whiskeys, vodkas and spirits. You'd be amazed how big a market that can be. If you can fake the taste and packaging to look similar enough, that is. You know some bottles of whiskey can go for up to fifty thousand lien?"

"W-What? No. Where?"

"Rare brands. Exclusive ones. The kind of stuff that's aged a hundred years or more and made with secret recipes."

"Well, I mean, that's good and all but how could we match the recipe?"

"We wouldn't have to. With booze that expensive, how many people do you think have actually tasted it? We make it look the same, packaging and bottles, ship it for a tenth the price through online orders and the buyers won't know the difference. There'll be more people who think ours is the real deal than those who have tasted the actual stuff."

Tony was grinning now, already typing away to someone on a scroll as he did. "I'll put some calls in and see what we can set up. Might need to hire a proper brewer for this. It needs to at least taste like whiskey or people will catch on. If it works though, this place could both launder dirty money and generate more. If that covers the start-up costs, you're onto a winner."

Which was great and all, except that he'd really been trying to find a way to innocently turn dirty money into legal tender, not create another criminal enterprise based around tricking and robbing people. Now he'd gone and started an internet scam.

No one really fell for those, did they? No one actually believed the random emails offering deals too goof to be true. Jaune wanted to say no, but then if that were the case then they wouldn't keep coming, would they? The scammers kept going because it worked. And here he was contributing to it so he could cover the cost of training with Oobleck.

"I'm such an asshole…"

"What was that, boss?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I suppose I should start coming up with names for our new craft beer, then? We'd best make it really bad, so people don't actually start ordering it."

"Nah. We'll just fill the kegs under the bar with actual craft beer and claim it's our own. No one will know."

"Is nothing sacred, Tony?"

"Not here, boss. Vale is where morality comes to die."

"Yeah. Tell me about it…"

Hoo boy. My arm is aching real bad. And now I need to go do some painting too. Ugh. Not looking forward to that.

Next Chapter: 8th July

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur