Lovely storms yesterday and a power cut lasting about 5 hours, so I wrote this yesterday on my laptop

Chapter 26

"Still alive?"

"Still alive," Jaune replied jokingly to Melanie's question as she poked her head in the office. "Alive and bored. You?"

"Bored and alive." She stepped in and closed the door behind her. "Quiet night. I think people are waiting for something like last night to happen. We didn't find anyone trying to smuggle anything in. Well, no weapons anyway. Plenty of booze, the cheapskates."

"Is that a thing?"

"You wouldn't believe how much a thing it is. The best places are in your bra between your tits, down your pants if you're a guy, but my favourite is the bulky sock."

"Do I dare ask?"

"You slip a small bottle of spirits down your sock so it's held against your ankle – usually when wearing long trousers to hide them. One in each side. Then you order coke all night and add the alcohol yourself. Like I said; cheapskates."

"I mean, we do charge through the roof here. I can't blame them."

"There are also a whole load of other clubs in Vale they could go to for cheap drinks. They chose to come here." Strolling up to his desk, Melanie sat on the corner and looked over the paperwork Tony had granted him. "Is this the new brewery? Tony mentioned it."

"It's me trying to find a location for it, yeah. Does it really have to be on our turf? There's plenty of land on the outskirts."

"Safer on ours. First of all, we'd need to seek permission to open a business on another gang's territory. If we don't and they find out, there'll be trouble. Then they'll want to dictate we don't step into any of their markets, plus they'll probably want a cut of the profits for protection, rent or whatever other excuse they can come up with. And if things ever go south, you can bet your butt our brewery will have a few accidents."

Jaune let out a long sigh. "That's ridiculous. Are you saying anyone wanting to open a business has to get permission from a gang? How do the police not notice this?"

"It's not like that. If you opened a shop here, or anywhere, you wouldn't have to seek us out. We'd come to you. Nicely at first – well, we do, others might be less nice – telling you what help we can offer. We're not as heavy-handed as the movies make it look. You can pay with money or services, too. There's a grocery down the road that sells to our members at wholesale prices. No profit for them but no loss either. And a hairdresser that does our people for free."

That was simultaneously less criminal and more childish than he imagined. A criminal gang, an empire, threatening a barber into free haircuts. It hardly seemed worth the effort. "What's the point of that? Don't you want money?"

"Dirty money?"

"Ah, right. It would need to be laundered."

"Bingo. Our people are going to have to pay for haircuts anyway and there are about a hundred and fifty of us all told. Assuming 20 lien per haircut, that's 3,000 lien a month. Specifically, that's three grand we don't need to launder because it's not on the books."

Three thousand was not unsubstantial either. Jaune did feel bad for the hairdresser who had to serve a hundred and fifty people a month for nothing, but if they hadn't gone bust so far then they can't have been too bad off.

"Protection rackets aren't all that profitable," Melanie explained. "First of all, it's quantity over quality. You need a lot of shops to make it worthwhile, which means a large territory. Larger territories mean more men required, higher costs to hold it and more chances of rivals wanting a cut. And for what, so you can threaten old antiques dealers for a few hundred a month? Not worth it."

"Do we protect our shops?"

"We do, but it's more for the reputation and to keep the area clean. A nicer neighbourhood means more people coming, means more profit for our shops, means better shops with higher profits, more appreciative shop owners and more clients for the club. A lot of the people in our area are happy we're around. They might not say it, but things could be a whole lot worse if they were under the Ravagers or another gang."

"I take it they're more of the smash and grab kind?"

"Pretty much. There are usually three types of gangs when it comes to how they treat people on their turf. The hands-off kind like us. We ask favours and for them to behave, and mostly keep our noses out their business if they do. There's the purely business kind – Bon-Hwa and the East Dragon Company fit that bill. They play things by the book; you start up in their territory, you pay a tax. Sometimes it's fixed and sometimes it's based off your profits. You pay, they provide services, everyone follows the rules and nothing bad happens. Then there are the feudal gangs. They consider themselves top of the food chain and are the type to go round, smash windows first and then demand money so it doesn't happen again. They rule through fear and usually with an iron fist."

Jaune knew which he preferred, but even Bon-Hwa's methods weren't that bad. At least they gave the shopkeepers a chance to pay up. "Isn't that short-sighted? They'll drive people out of business in their own turf."

"Those kinds of gangs don't care about the long term." Melanie said. "Money now is more important than money later. They're usually more amateur, but not always. Sometimes they're just run by someone who prioritises strength over planning. It usually depends on who is in charge. Hei liked to cultivate the gentleman mob boss image, so the Xiong Clan are polite, hospitable and not as likely to stab you in the back. Bon-Hwa is all about business and it reflects on the EDC. Then there's someone like Kane."

"I thought you said he probably isn't as stupid as he looks?"

"Probably isn't," she said with a little shrug, "But he has to at least act the psycho to keep that up, doesn't he? Even if he wanted to be more like Hei or Bon-Hwa, his gang is a drugged-up mess of angry assholes. They're high on power and not afraid of it."

"How is their part of the city? Run-down?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. It's where house prices are lowest and more shops are abandoned than not. Real boarded-up kind of place."

That just seemed like such a waste. Protection rackets were like farming from what he could understand. You wanted the people under you to do well so they'd keep paying, get more money and make your turf a richer, more well-respected part of the city. That would probably then reflect on the gang in charge, giving them a good reputation.

Kane was strangling his little part of Vale. Maybe he wasn't the only cause of that – economic struggle in the area might have also played a part – but by smashing up shops that did open, he effectively made no one want to set up there. Did they really see the quick injection of money as more worth it than long-term profit?

"Maybe the Ravager's finances aren't as good as they want us to believe."

"Now you're thinking like a mob boss." Melanie said with a laugh and a smile. "That's pretty much what me, Mil and Tony have come up with. It'd also explain why they're the most likely to break the cartel and risk the wrath of the other drug barons."

"They need the money quick," Jaune said. "Debt? Can a gang owe debt? Surely they just refuse to pay."

"Depends who you're indebted to, doesn't it? A criminal might not care about ignoring threatening mail from the banks, but if you're borrowing from another gang, a bigger gang, then it's a lot harder to ignore a pair of huntsmen knocking your door down."

So, Kane needed money for some reason, and he was sucking his district dry to get hold of it. If he was that desperate then it wasn't too hard to imagine him breaking the cartel and lowering prices at a crucial time. Even if the rest of the barons found out, it might be too late if Kane sold all his product on day one of the festival.

No wonder Bon-Hwa warned me about him. He's worried about the exact same thing. If the East Dragon Company was as commercially oriented as Melanie said, they'd see that kind of breach of a business deal as the worst thing imaginable. I might have an ally there if the Ravagers tried anything. If we're all but sure Kane will go back on his word, it's the safer business decision to remove his gang from the market.

Putting things in economic terms made it all seem so much more acceptable as well, as if he wasn't thinking of a gang war and instead more of an acquisition or hostile takeover. Maybe the EDC used those very terms for their operations.

"I brought up the Ravagers for a reason," Melanie said. "We didn't get any perfect proof, but we're about 85% sure that asshole the other day was sent by Kane to kill you."

Jaune wanted to ask how she could be sure, how she knew she wasn't making a mistake, but in all honesty he'd come to the exact same conclusion himself. No one had made an aggressive enough motion against him other than Kane. The other barons seemed fine with him.

"Why me out of all the barons?"

"Because you're newest. That means you're the least experienced."

Easiest to get to, easiest to kill, easiest to get away with killing. It all made sense and there was a certain `nothing personal` vibe to it that left Jaune feeling chill. This wasn't someone hating him or everything he stood for; it was just someone who felt life would be a little bit easier with the Xiong Clan caught in its own internal struggles.

That wasn't all that led him to that conclusion, though. The other barons… they just seemed too good at their jobs for such a poor attempt. If the Lumens family wanted him dead he imagined Sebastian would come and kill him personally. If the Atlas Aristocrats wanted him out the picture, maybe a car would drive by and some guns would come out the windows. The Laurette family came across as too genteel – or at least cultivating too genteel an image – to have a rival stabbed to death in a nightclub. Even the West Vale Collective and their own lazy-acting leader could probably find a subtler, more effective way of killing someone.

"Unless this was all to frame the Ravagers…"

"Exactly." Melanie sighed. "And that's why we can't act on it. Because maybe, as unlikely as it is, the attempt was shit on purpose and picked to make us assume it was those idiots and go after them. There wouldn't even have to be a reason to dislike us for that. Just one of the other barons wanting Kane's gang gone and figuring it'd cost less to have us do it than themselves."

Now that was something he could see happening from any of them. They might all act sophisticated and amicable, but they were criminals at the end of the day and if there was one thing he'd learned about the underworld thus far, it was that money mattered. Why do it yourself when you could have someone else take the risk? With the new leader of the Xiong Clan being so inexperienced, they would know he wasn't in a position to be sure of anything.

And however unlikely all that was, it was still just likely enough that they couldn't know for sure that Kane sent the guy. "So, we do nothing?" he asked.

"We wait." Melanie said. "And we carry on like normal. This is something you'll just have to get used to." Her eyes narrowed. "Which is why we prefer to dissuade it by killing anyone who tries, not letting them go with a warning."

"I don't have it in me to kill someone."

"You do. Everyone does. It just comes down to how far you need to be pushed. No one wants to be a killer the first time. Except the psychopaths."

Curious, Jaune asked, "What about your first?"

"Hmm? My first time what?" she asked with a flirtatious wink. "My, oh my, are you trying to worm your way under my skirt?"

"Funny. You know what I mean."

"I do," she teased, "And there's a reason I'm changing the subject." Her smile was all teeth and pleasantness. "Thank you for missing my subtle hint. Here's a less subtle one."

Ah. Shit.

"Dropping it."

"Thanks." Melanie leaned over to cup his cheek. "You're sweet, Jaune. There's a part of me that likes that and wishes it could stick around. If Hei had his way, you'd be kept out of this. Sadly, that bitch made sure we never had a choice. Not you, Hei or me. So as much as I like you this way, take a little advice." Her smile fell. "You're going to have to toughen up at some point. For your sake. Mil and I can't protect you forever. We're trying for both your and the Xiong's sake, and for Hei's memory," she promised, "But it won't last."

"I…" Jaune licked his dry lips. "I know. Thank you. I'm trying as well…"

"I know." Melanie stepped back and kicked off the desk. "We all are. It's a shitty situation all around, but we're making the best of it. Just keep in mind that the next time we try and kill someone, we're not doing it for kicks. We were doing it to try and protect you."

Jaune watched her leave in silence. He let out a long, tired sigh.

/-/

It was as late as always when he got back to the apartment block, stepping out the cold rain and shaking off Dove's borrowed umbrella. He really should have taken it back to Beacon, but the weather lately had been awful, and Dove never reminded him. He wanted to say it rained more in Vale than it did Ansel but the reality was more to do with how much time he spent indoors back home, usually playing computer games or reading comics. There was no reason to go out in the rain, whereas now work beckoned come rain or shine.

Not that it ever shined with his hours.

There was no one in the block's dimly lit entryway. Too late for that. A few of the vending machines flickered and Jaune resisted the brief impulse by reminding himself he had snacks and drink aplenty in his apartment. Tugging at his wet collar and tapping his feet impatiently as the elevator came down, he wrung out wet, blonde hair and paid silent thanks to the fact the weekdays were here. That meant work for most people, but for him it meant a break from the late nights.

Never thought I'd be so happy to see a Monday coming. Or come, he thought. It was past midnight and technically Monday now. How so many people could go out clubbing on a Sunday he had no idea. When the rickety elevator came, he stepped inside, riding it up and to his floor before stepping out into an equally dim corridor. The lighting was timed to be brighter during the day and dimmer at night, which was a little paradoxical but prevented it from being too glaring on tired eyes. Yawning himself, he ambled over to his door, briefly noting the lack of mail stacked outside Qrow's, inserted his key and let himself in.

Home. His home away from home, and really not much to look at with its kitchen-living room combo and doors to bedroom and bathroom. It was nothing compared to the home his father had built, but he'd paid – or was paying – for this with his own two hands. That mattered.

Setting the umbrella down beside Crocea Mors, Jaune stepped into the kitchen and snagged a glass from the drying rack, filling it with tap water before taking a long drink. As tempting as food was, he wasn't starving and it would take time to cook anything substantial. I'm for bed. I'll handle breakfast in the morning. Maybe treat myself at one of the diners. My finances aren't that bad thanks to the extra work the twins have me doing.

Jaune paused to shiver and clutch his arms. At first he thought it because of the things they had him do, but he soon shuddered again as a cold, wet gust of air swept past his arms. He tracked it to the nearest and only window in the apartment, where his thin curtains were fluttering just a little bit. It wasn't open fully, just the barest crack not an inch tall at the bottom, like he'd failed to shut it all the way.

"I'm sure I locked up properly. Must have bounced out the latch."

Placing his hands on the plastic bottom, he slid it down the last inch, hearing it click into place. His face reflected itself on the glass. His tired eyes and worn smile, his black waistcoat.

The bathroom door behind him swinging open.

What…?

The panic nearly cost him. Nearly. Something came hurtling out the bathroom and at his exposed back, and if he hadn't been watching it in the reflection he'd have never known. His body kicked in at the last possible second, making him push off the window and to the left. The person – a man – rushed by, smashing his hand and the knife it held through double-glazed glass.

Still shocked, Jaune could do nothing but stare as the man swore and dragged his hand back through shattered glass, cutting himself badly. The knife swung again but he'd already made distance. Jaune's hand hit the stove and moved with a mind of its own, wrapping around the handle of a cast-iron frying pan. There was no thought to it, no planning or strategy, but it might have been Oobleck's training that had him moving without thought, swinging the utensil like a weapon and striking the man's hand as he lunged, sending the knife flying.

"Shit!" the man cursed, clutching his hand and glaring hatefully back. His other shot down to his waist and Jaune's eyes widened in terror as a black handgun was drawn. He must have been expecting a quick and quiet attack, but now that the element of surprise was broken, why not?

Aura!

Jaune's mind screamed out.

AURA!

"Fucking die!"

It was clumsy. It could have been better. Doctor Oobleck had drilled finer aura control into him, but at that moment he didn't have the time. Every scrap he had, every ounce of it, was chucked forward with one desperate plea in mind.

Hold.

Jaune didn't hear the gun go off, but he felt it. The impact drove him back into the stove. Pain shot up his spine and he cried out, but the faint tinkle of the dust round bouncing onto the floor after impacting his chest and not puncturing through snapped him out of it. Pain was good. Pain meant he wasn't dead.

Another gunshot. Another sickening moment of doubt followed by agony and then anger. Jaune lashed out before the man could shoot a third time, charging in with a wild roar and a swing of his pan. There was a third gunshot anyway that struck his stomach. It was like being punched by a hypodermic needle. A sharp and focused impact that spread pain like fire up his gut.

Despite Oobleck's training telling him to aim for the head, he went for the gun. It had to go before his aura did. Luckily, the man hadn't expected aura at all and so hadn't thought he might need to make space. His eyes widened a brief second before Jaune hit, forcing the gun out his hand and crashing bodily into him.

They went down in a tangle of limbs. The man kicked, punched and wrestled with his arm. Jaune smacked the frying pan down again and again, until a hand caught his wrist and suddenly, he was rolled over and underneath. The pan was wrestled away and tossed across the room. A fist struck his jaw but rather than follow up, the man leapt off him and to the left. For the gun.

No!

Jaune lunged after him, caught his leg and dragged him back. They both reached for it, but Jaune's longer grip won out, batting it away and under his bed where it wouldn't be reached easily. In return, a grimy hand gripped his face, a thumb trying to push its way into his eye socket and gouge it out.

"Jaune!" A familiar voice came through the walls. "Jaune! Are you okay!?"

The killer hesitated, then swore.

Qrow.

"HELP!" Jaune screamed at the top of his lungs. It was all he managed before a hand struck the side of his head. The world turned and he was suddenly the one being straddled. Two hands fought to wrap around his throat, but Jaune fought them off and managed one final cry, "Qrow! Help!"

"Fucker!" the man swore, finally finding his grip and squeezing. Jaune gasped for air, eyes bulging out as his hands flew upward. Desperation gave him strength and the first blow shattered an already broken nose, spraying his own face with blood. "Gah!" the man growled but refused to let go. "Fucking die already!"

At this rate he was going to.

Jaune could hear the pounding of a fist on his door. Was Qrow knocking? No, he was knocking the door down, shaking it so hard it was bending inward. His vision was already dimming, though, dark creeping in at the corners as his lungs burned and his neck felt like it was being crumpled like a cheap straw.

"H-Help," he croaked. It was hoarse, quiet and wasteful, his last breath rattling out.

Through the dark, he saw the hideous face above him pull into a disgusting leer. A light shone in the man's eyes, a sick and perverse pleasure at watching life snuffed out beneath him. Again, his door bowed inward, wood creaking as it splintered and snapped under the force of an angry huntsman who would arrive seconds too late.

Jaune's left hand batted at the man's face, clutching on weakly to the left side of his head, thumb below his eye, fingers in his hair. His right scrabbled about the floor blindly, bumping into a chair leg, a spare pair of shoes, a handle. He had no idea what it was, but he took hold of it and swung.

The door exploded inward. Qrow barrelled through screaming "JAUNE!" at the top of his lungs. He had his weapon in hand, a huge chunk of metal and death, and though he was dressed in only a loose pair of boxers, he looked ready to fight.

Ready to see the man atop Jaune gurgle and spit blood, looking down at the knife buried through his throat, clasped in the weak grip of a shaking hand from below. The man's eyes reached down past the blood bubbling over metal and to the wide and frightened blue ones below.

"S-Son of a bitch," he gurgled. "N-Nobody said aura…"

His final words said, the man collapsed atop him, crushing Jaune's body to the floor and bleeding out all over his chest.

/-/

A police officer handed him a warm cup of something sweet and fragrant. A sip told him it was hot chocolate, which almost made Jaune cry. He drank heavily of it, wrapped up in a blanket in a fresh change of clothes out in the back of a police van while cars blinked red and blue silently out front of his apartment block.

"Am I going to jail?"

"None of that," the man said. "Focus on yourself for now. You've been through one hell of a night."

"You're not going to jail." Qrow promised him. "Not when I arrived in time to see you nearly strangled to death. The testament of a huntsman means something. You're fine, Jaune." A hand wrapped around his shoulder. "Don't worry."

Qrow's presence meant more than he could have imagined. The air was cold, the night colder and his body felt coldest of all, especially after seeing a dead face staring down on him. He was ashamed to admit he'd shut down, completely turned off and laid there until Qrow angrily wrenched the dead man off and started checking Jaune over for injuries. If it wasn't for him, Jaune might have laid there for hours.

"Sounds like there's plenty of evidence that would exonerate you." the officer said. "My boys found the gun you mentioned, and I saw the bullets myself, not to mention the window. I can't comment on a case still open, but you're not currently a suspect. That could change."

"It won't change." Qrow said.

"It probably won't but it could, and I'll get in trouble for not saying it. Now, you've got options tonight, Mr Arc. I want you to know that I am in no way suggesting you are guilty. Do you understand that?"

Jaune nodded weakly. "Y-Yes."

"Good. Now, what we have is someone who has tried to murder you. Someone who knows where you live, has forced an entry and laid in ambush. That means they know your hours as well. Where do you work?"

"Nightclub."

"Which?"

"The Club." The man made to ask for more clarification, but Jaune added, "That's its name."

"Ah. Alright then. Well, it's not hard to figure out the hours of someone in public. Either way, letting you stay here is a definite no-no. We're prepared to offer you police protection and let you sleep at the station if you wish. You would not be in a cell. I can promise you that now. Alternatively, if you have any family in Vale then you can stay with them."

"I have no one. I… I could stay at the club. They have spare rooms…"

"This person knew where you worked, Mr Arc."

"He can stay with me." Qrow said.

The officer sighed. "Next door to a crime scene?"

"I'm a huntsman." It felt unnecessary to say it, but Qrow let that linger. "Not to fault your boys in blue, but I can look after him better than you can if someone of huntsman level comes hopping around."

"I would feel happier about that if it wasn't literally next door, Mr Branwen. Not ten metres away."

Qrow's face twisted into a grimace.

"Is there nowhere else? If not then the station-"

"What if I can get him a room in Beacon?" Jaune looked up, surprised, and no less surprised than the officer. "It wouldn't be permanent or anything, but Ozpin owes me a favour. A few, actually. They're already setting rooms aside for transfers, so they'd not have any problem spotting him one for a bit. That'd be safe enough, right?"

"I… Yes. It would be." The officer turned to Jaune. "Is that what you'd like?"

Beacon. It was almost funny, really. Right now, he wasn't sure what he wanted but a cold police station didn't feel like it. Jaune nodded quickly. Anything that didn't mean being near here.

"Contact the headmaster first," the officer said. "I'll let you take him as long as I get assurances he'll have board there for at least a week. Otherwise, we'll have to work out a protection scheme for him."

"I'll get on that." Qrow reached for his scroll and stepped out the van. "Hey Oz? I know it's late – no, listen, it can't wait until morning. I need a favour – a big favour. You owe me enough. Yeah. You will? Okay, listen…" He walked out of range, talking into the scroll and waving one arm about.

"We'll be getting in touch for questions whatever you decide," the officer said. "I've already taken your initial statement, but we may have more. You can ask for an attorney if you want one, but you'll be informed that you're a suspect before any answers can be used against you. As I said, I don't think that will happen here. Having a huntsman see you nearly being killed is a pretty cut and dry case."

Jaune nodded dumbly, still shaken. "I'll answer them," he said weakly. "It's fine."

"Good lad. I do have one for now, just to help us along. I should have asked up there, but to look at your face I just wanted you out of there and away from the body as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

"No worries. That man, though, the one who tried to kill you. Can you tell me if you recognised him from anywhere? Did you know him?"

Jaune's eyes clenched shut. The broken and hastily reset nose, the swollen jaw, the shattered teeth and bloodshot eyes. It had all been so close and he'd recognised him in an instant, even if the fact hadn't sunken in until now. Nausea rolled around his stomach, not least of all for the fact he'd killed a man in self-defence, but for the fact it could have all been avoided.

"I know him. He… He started a fight in the club I work at. He tried to stab me two nights back. Our bouncers roughed him up and sent him on his way." Jaune tried to swallow and almost choked on his spit. "I thought it was done with. I didn't think he'd come back."

"Looks like he took it personally," the officer said. "Thank you for that. We'll note it down as a possible motive." He looked up. "Looks like your huntsman in shining armour is back."

"Ozpin says yes." Qrow said, beaming brightly. He stuck out the scroll to the officer. "Confirm it with him."

"Will do." The man took it. "Hello. Captain Pierce here. Yes. Yes. That's good to hear, thank you. No, I cannot comment on a case in process but you're free to ask Mr Arc if he wishes to tell you. No, he is not a suspect at this time and is unlikely to become one. I shall let you know if anything changes. Yes, that's all. Thank you, Headmaster Ozpin. I'll sleep easier knowing the boy is safe." Handing the scroll back, the officer said to Jaune, "Looks like your friend pulled through. If there's anything in your room you would like to take with you, please tell me and I'll have someone collect it. I can't let you back in to disturb a crime scene, and I doubt you'd want to go in there right now anyway. Is there anything you need? Work uniforms? Essentials?"

"I'm not working until Friday," Jaune said. "Um. My wallet and scroll? Maybe my sword and a change of clothes?"

"We'll get on that." He waved another officer down and sent them off. "We'll have the entire place cleaned up by tomorrow evening. If you want to come back for more, that's fine then but please do not come alone. Mr Branwen?"

"I'll go with him," Qrow promised.

"Good. You've had a tough night, Mr Arc. I'm sorry it had to happen to you, but what I can say is that you handled it as well as you could and you were lucky to have Mr Branwen as your neighbour."

Lucky for sure, but he knew he hadn't handled it well. If he had, he'd have saved all of this pain and let Melanie or Miltia slit the man's throat back in the club's basement. He'd have listened to them. He hadn't, and now he had a good feeling he knew why Melanie didn't want to talk about her first kill.

"Come on." Qrow said kindly, helping him up and away. "Let's get you out of here. Ozpin sending his personal Bullhead to collect us. You'll be safe in Beacon. Ain't no one going to reach you there."

Definitely not Cinder, eh?

At least he'll be closer to Dove and Velvet, eh? The ultimate love triangle.

Next Chapter: 15th July

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur