Ruby traced her fingers over the stitches on her forearm. The cut felt shallower at the time, but in just minutes she had been covered in her own blood. The doctor said a thousand times that she got lucky with the injury on her head: minor bruising, minor concussion. She only passed out for about five minutes and eventually got up and wandered around, acting as usual but never appearing in touch with the reality that she was injured. Ruby had no memory of it. She can't remember if she said anything, which really sucks because she wouldn't know how she would have reacted if someone had asked her about the fire. She remembers everything that happened. She remembers everything she saw. Plausible deniability only works for those who are capable of lying.
"Don't touch it, it'll get infected," Yang snapped, appearing in the threshold to their dorm room with a fresh roll of bandages. Yang hastily walked up to Ruby and kneeled in front of her as she unrolled a strip of gauze. Yang pulled Ruby's arm closer to her and started wrapping the gauze around it with a blank stare in her eyes.
"Hey," Ruby sighed—she didn't mean to sound so exhausted. "What did I say last night?"
Still focusing on what she was doing, Yang said, "Nothing important." Yang picked up a roll of waterproof tape and tore off a piece with her teeth. After placing it on her arm to keep it secured, Yang stood up and wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.
"What do you mean?" Ruby asked, shifting onto the edge of Weiss's bed.
Yang shrugged. "You didn't tell us about what happened at the club if that's what you're asking."
Ruby fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her hands as they picked at each other. She looked up at Yang, who was pensively staring out the window.
"Yang?" Ruby interjected.
Yang's eyes brightened and returned their focus to Ruby. "Sorry, I was just thinking about something."
"Where's everyone else?"
"They decided to stop by the store to grab some food. Someone said something about renting a movie, but I don't know if it's going to happen."
"What movie?"
"Probably a love story, given that we sent the romantic half of the team to go do it."
Ruby chuckled.
"Yeah, probably."
Roman looked at his clock. "Set them for 3:35. Don't turn them on again until I tell you to. Who's in a group tonight?"
Glancing at the group of similarly-dressed men in black with masks pulled halfway down their faces, Roman noticed three hands held up in the chilly air. He pointed at one and said, "Take out your scroll."
He reached into his pocket and pulled up the time zone clock. As he held it up, Roman squinted to filter out the brightness, giving his eyes time to adjust. Fifteen more seconds.
Roman took a deep breath, reviewing the floor plan in his head.
He exhaled. "Five, four, three, two…" Roman set his watch into motion, watching as everyone else pulled their sleeves back over their wrists.
"Listen up, everyone," Roman called out. "We're out of here by 4:00, or I will personally put a bullet in your head. Or I'll tell Cinder, which will be much worse for your sorry asses." He pulled his mask over his head and reached for the gun in his waistband. The silencer, not yet attached to the gun itself, rested at the bottom of his pocket. It didn't feel hot. It didn't weigh on him. Something else was already doing that for him.
Roman mentally slapped himself. Getting distracted on a job is a great way to get dead. Bouncing his leg impatiently, Roman checked his watch. 3:36. Four minutes.
Three people split off from the group to do some recon and a few preemptive measures. There shouldn't be any problems. Vale's capitol is a metropolis, but no one stays out until four in the morning. Not in this district, at least.
Roman looked at his wrist. 3:36. Time will not go fast enough. He bounced on the balls of his feet a few times and took the silencer out of his pocket. He screwed it on, thinking absentmindedly about the fire in the club.
"Get it off your mind, you fucking idiot," Roman muttered under his breath. When it didn't screw on any further, he briefly examined the profile before replacing it at his side. He took another look at his watch.
3:38. Two more minutes.
Roman turned to the street, but the recon group wasn't back yet. Fucking hell, how long does it take to look around and say "all clear"?
He turned to the rest of the group and shouted, "All right, who has the bolt cutters and spray paint?"
Someone raised his hand, but Roman didn't make eye contact with him. "You're up." Roman gestured to the door.
He readjusted his mask on his head and walked over. The recon group came running back, one of them giving Roman the thumbs up. Roman put two fingers together and waved at them. "Go," he whispered to the guy waiting under the camera with spray paint.
He held the can up, and Roman looked down at his watch, flattening him palm over the key in his pocket. 158. 3:39.
"Done." He handed the can off to someone else and approached the door with his bolt cutters.
"In and out in twenty!" Roman reminded everyone.
The lock snapped, falling to the floor. The door swung open and everyone followed the specific instructions laid out for them.
Okay, let's get started.
