Lifted Chapter Three
Donuts and Armed Robbery
Cr00cy still hasn't stopped this madness
Cr00cy: Why would I?
Junior's club was many things; terribly named, obnoxiously color schemed, a literal prison for most of my time there...but you wanna know the weird part?
I kinda miss it.
Maybe it was the free drinks, don't tell Junior. Maybe it was the shitty music. Maybe it was all the gambling and taking easy marks for all they were worth.
And maybe, just maybe, it was the people.
I wonder if it's still standing. I hope so.
You ever have that moment where you find out work is work, no matter how cool it sounds? Like, no matter how much you like the thing you're working with?
Take ice cream for example. I like ice cream, you like ice cream, we all scream for that shit and yada yada. It's delicious and wonderful.
You ever work in an ice cream shop? Shit goes from a sweet shop to a sweatshop real quick.
Turns out, gambling works like that too. Cause I like to gamble, I like it a lot. You know what it turns out that I don't like? Watching other people gamble.
But here I was, dressed up my ridiculous new uniform, black slacks and a white button up shirt with a matching black vest and red bow tie, doing just that. Junior had been very insistent on the uniform part, said that 'we want people staring at their cards, not your tits. That's what the waitresses are for.' A real charmer, Junior.
But that wasn't really what was pissing me off, at least at the moment. No, that honor currently belonged to the weasley looking fellow sitting across from me at my blackjack table. The one that had been staring at his five of spades for the past five minutes like he could will it to change if he believed hard enough.
"Sir, would you like to hit or stay?" I asked for the third time, trying not to grit my teeth while I did so.
He licked his lips and looked up at me pleadingly. "What should do?"
Leave my table.
I took a deep breath and let it out, willing myself to be calm. I couldn't afford to yell at a customer. Three times in a day is too many. At least, so I'd been told.
"Well, I'm showing six, which means that I'm going to have to hit. What I would suggest is-"
"I want to hit!" He cut me off.
I tried not to smile at the slump in his shoulders when the ten hit the table. Tried being the operative word.
"Sir, would you like to hit or stay?" I asked sweetly.
"Stay." He mumbled dejectedly.
Shockingly, when we finished making our way around the table, Mr. Weasel had bust. Imagine that. As it turns out, most people's love for gambling is directly proportional to how much they suck at it. As it also turns out, watching those people bomb got old a lot faster that you thought it would.
But hey, at least Jaune made it to Beacon. Speaking of Jaune...I slid my scroll out from under the table to read through the messages he'd been sending me this morning.
They made us camp out on the floor for some reason last night. Headmaster seems like a bit of an oddball.
Em, the breakfast here is awesome!
Man, you wouldn't believe how big this place is. The campus is beautiful!
Gotta go! They're calling us out for initiation! I wonder what it's going to be?
I couldn't help but grin. At least one of us was living the dream.
"Are you supposed to be looking at that at the table?"
My gaze shot up to find Mr. Weasel glaring at me accusingly. Apparently he wasn't a fan after the last couple of hands. That's ok though, the feeling was mutual, and I can glare with the best of them.
"Sorry about that, sir. Are you going to be playing this round? I'd love to deal you in." I growled as I leaned halfway across the table. The other people at the table apparently got the message, as they had the decency to shift back in the seats. Mr. Weasel wasn't quite so smart.
"That's better." He sniffed. "And yes, deal me in."
Oh, this motherfucker was about the have a rough go of it. I started to let my Semblance take hold as I shuffled angrily, glaring at him the whole time, till a hand fell on my shoulder and the gruff voice of one of Juniors boys whispered in my ear.
"You're needed over at table three."
"I'm busy." I hissed back.
He looked over at Mr. Weasel and the meager pile of chips in front of him. "You don't look busy. Table three has more action anyway. Guy over there is on a real hot streak."
"Give me five minutes and I'll make a seat for him here."
He shook his head. "Table three is 500 lien a hand minimum."
"Oh."
That's right, I was supposed to be 'helping' the house. I sometimes forget when I'm contemplating stabbing someone.
"Yeah, 'oh'." He agreed, gently pushing me away from the table. "Don't worry about this guy, I'll deal with him. He's done."
I sighed and nodded. "Thanks…"
"Chris."
"Thanks, Chris." I said again, before setting the cards down and clapping my hands together. "Well, that's my cue for break, folks. You've been great. I hope that you stay as lucky as you've been."
"I'm down 500." Mr. Weasel grumbled.
"I hope that you stay as lucky as you've been." I reiterated, earning a chuckle from Chris and the rest of the table, and a glare from Mr. Weasel. But hey….
Fuck him.
I weaved my way around the bustling crowd of the casino's, sorry, 'The Red Room's,' floor towards table three. I will say this, dumb names aside, Junior apparently knows how to promote, cause this place was always full regardless of what day of the week it was. As I got closer to the table's zone, I started to scan the crowd. Sure enough, there he was, standing near, but not too near, the table in question, silently watching the action. I made my way over to him and settled in beside him.
"What's up?"
"Atlesian rich kid is playing with a lot of daddy's money over there." He said, not taking his eyes off the man. Guy couldn't have been much older than I was, but the massive stack of chips in front of him said he was doing a lot better at this whole game of life thing than I was.
"I thought that's what we like."
He grunted. "I like it when they're losing theirs, not winning all of ours."
"When's the dealer go on break?"
"Right now." He made some vague gesture with his hand and the dealer nodded, stepping back from the table and thanking the players. "You ready?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Is he drinking?"
Junior hummed. "A bit. He's been getting into it a bit more as he's been winning. Why?"
"Good, keep sending them. It'll make this next part easier." I answered as I started towards the table, eyes locked on our high roller. Sure, I could have explained what I meant to Junior, but where would the fun in that be?
I smiled as stepped behind the table, introducing myself and asking if I could get them anything before we started. After a series of polite refusals, I picked up the decks and started to shuffle. I've always loved cards, the feel of them, the sound of them slapping together, the ritual of shuffling them just right. I especially love the lien that they bring me.
I eyed our high roller's drink as I began to deal. Still half full, but that was ok. We had plenty of time, he wasn't going anywhere. Unsurprisingly, he continued to win the next few hands. Some people just have hot streaks, I've given up trying to figure out why. It was more than that though, the guy was just good. He knew when to hit, when to stay, when to split. Hell, he was even helping some of the other players at the table - if only to more easily predict what was coming next. He seemed damn near unstoppable.
Then the waitress showed up with his drink, a nice and tall jack and coke. On the house of course. Now I could get to work.
Here's the thing about being able to make people see things, it's an art. Sure, if it was just me and him sitting at a table I could just make either of our cards whatever I wanted and win that way, easy peasy. Hell, I could probably distract him fairly well without the Semblance - Junior was right, though I'd never admit it, that crop top thing I wear isn't an accident. But, with other people at the table, ones who could question his sudden losing streak and weird choices? Well, that's where the finesse comes in. You've got to start small, making him think he sees the old lady next to him get a face card, then watch the confusion on his face when he hits and bust for the same thing. If you're lucky, your cards beat the old lady's and he's never the wiser that she actually pulled a seven of clubs. But even if she wins and you have to let down the illusion real quick, what's he going to say? Must have just been a case of him looking at her cards too fast, right?
Here's where that drink comes into play. Our dear player doesn't much like losing, and wants a little bit of comfort. Luckily, Junior's waitress has made sure some is close at hand. Next time it's the guy two down from him that he sees get a five of hearts instead of a king, the time after that he thinks he gets a look at my card as I fumble with it for a second. Small, believable mistakes that seem to keep that sweet taste of victory just out of reach. But hey, he's got plenty of chips, so he's not going anywhere. He was on a streak after all! So, what does he do in the meantime while he's waiting for that streak to come back round? Why, he starts drinking again of course.
Now, that seems like a pretty obvious bad idea when you're sitting on the sidelines, but when you're in the moment? You just want to feel good. Winning felt good, and you know you'll be winning again soon, so you just do the next best thing in the meantime. You drink. You drink until you're making poor decisions all on your own, no illusions needed. But that doesn't stop you from playing, because you can't stop chasing that feeling. That high.
Isn't gambling fun, kids?
About half an hour later, and our friend was both a lot less sober and a lot less wealthy. As I watched him slowly shuffle up his remaining chips and say bye to the table I almost felt bad. Almost. Then he tipped me. Really, really well.
Then I felt like a right asshole.
I politely excused myself from the table and looked for Junior in the crowd. I made my over when I spotted him standing next to the roulette tables. He gave me a small nod.
"Not bad."
I scoffed. "Not bad? Do you know how much lien I just pulled down?"
"Do you know how much more you owe?" He shot back.
Some people just can't let you have wins.
"Anyone ever tell you you're kind of an ass, Big Cat?"
"No one that enjoys the full function of their limbs."
"Oooh, scary."
He sighed. "You're not worth the lien."
"You could always let me go." I suggested.
He snorted. "Not anytime soon."
Well, it was worth a shot.
"You have finished your shift though." He added, looking down at his very expensive looking watch. "You're clear till eight tomorrow night."
"Gee, what will I do with all my free time?" I shot back sarcastically.
"Anything but leaving here. I'm sure you'll figure it out."
I shrugged and smirked. "Okey dokey," I agreed, making my way towards the stairs, earning a frown from the big man.
"You'll figure out something quiet!" He called after me as I reached the door to the stairs.
Dammit.
As it turned out, Jaune was what I ended up choosing to fill my time. Shocker, I know, but when you're under house arrest in a city where you know literally no one besides the criminals holding you hostage, your options are limited. Plus he brought me donuts.
"Ow'd da 'ing go?" I asked around a mouthful of blueberry donut.
"You mean initiation?" He said with a small grin.
I swallowed and shook my head. "That makes it sound like you got jumped into a gang."
"I think I kinda did."
I snorted as I reached for an eclair, the king of donuts. "What'd they do, throw you at a bunch of Grimm and tell you 'good luck?'" I had the treat about halfway to my mouth before I caught his deadpan stare. "Wait, really?"
"Yes. After throwing me off a cliff."
I nearly choked to death on my eclair. Aura maybe pretty damn awesome, but fun fact, doesn't stop you from killing yourself with a pastry.
"You ok, Em?" Jaune asked worriedly as he rubbed my back.
"Fuck that!" I coughed out. "Are you ok? How are you ok?"
He shrugged weakly. "Lucky, I guess."
"Lucky? Jaune, you don't have Aura!"
He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, about that…"
"No way." I whispered.
His small smile grew into a cheese eating grin. "Yes way."
I squealed a little bit, very bad for my tough girl image, and threw my arms around the dork. This had been one of our biggest fears walking into Vale, getting Jaune's Aura unlocked by someone before he'd be called upon to use it. Unfortunately, Papa Arc had very carefully left that part out of my instruction because he, rightly, assumed I would have used it on Jaune the instant I knew how. Hell, I'm fairly certain he would have avoided telling Jaune about Aura altogether if I hadn't shown up. Not particularly fond of his chosen profession is Papa Arc. I thought that we'd have a little bit more time to stumble around in the dark and find someone that we could bribe into doing it discreetly before it became a necessity, but apparently the Headmaster of Beacon had a screw or two loose. But that didn't matter right now. What did matter was that, despite Aura's many failings at keeping my windpipe free of the scourge of eclairs, it would keep Jaune safe. Safe-ish.
"That's awesome! How'd you do it?"
He laughed. "I didn't do much of anything. Pyr, did it for me."
That made sense, must of been some guy he met during initiation.
"Who's Pyr?" I asked.
"My partner." He explained with a smile. "She's great! Total badass, knows everything about everything about fighting, and think she's even kinda famous!"
Huh, she. Whatever. I would have preferred Jaune to have a guy as a partner, boy desperately needs some male interactions given his family makeup, but it was cool. I promise.
"Sounds like you really lucked out."
He nodded. "Yeah, big time. The rest of my team seems pretty great too."
"Team?" I have no idea how these Hunter academies worked, and after hearing about Beacon's dumbass initiation I wasn't making any assumptions.
"Mmhm. We're split into teams of four based off what chess pieces we chose during initiation."
"You were playing chess? Was this before or after the Grimm part?"
"During."
"I don't-"
He waved his hand. "I promise it's not worth burning brain cells thinking about."
Fair enough.
I sighed. "Ok, so who else you got on your team?"
"Ren and Nora. Don't know too much about them yet, but they seem cool. I think they've known each other forever, kinda like me and you."
I grinned. "Awww weeee."
He smirked. "Yeah, Nora bothers Ren all the time too."
"Asshole." I shot back, slapping at his arm and feeling a sense of relief as I watched his arm crackle with Aura.
"That's so cool." He whispered excitedly.
"Unlike you." I teased, making his face drop a bit. Fun fact number two, Aura only protects you from physical wounds. I laughed and gave him a shove. "Don't mope! You're on a team with all girls! How lucky can you get?"
His face scrunched in confusion for a moment before something clicked. "Oh, Ren's a guy."
Thank the Gods. Maybe he could learn some manly stuff now, like...I don't fucking know. This is why he needs guy friends!
"Well, at least there will be one on the team."
"Two." He corrected.
"I know what I said." I smirked as he huffed, before offering him an olive branch in the form of a chocolate donut. "You guys have a leader or something? Though it sounds like that Pyr girl is a shoe in."
He sighed as he accepted the pastry. "Yeah, I would have thought so too."
"Not her?"
"Nope."
"Ren?"
"Nay." He said, sinking into his seat a little bit.
Oh Gods.
"Nora?" I asked hesitantly.
He groaned and slammed his head down on the bar. Not too far from my own face imprint funnily enough.
"But why!?" I may or may not have shrieked.
"I don't know!" He whined.
"You're like the worst choice!"
"Gee, thanks, Em." He shot back sarcastically.
"Tell me I'm wrong." I challenged, only for him to rest his head back on the bar. "Jaune, I love you, but this is crazy!"
"I know." He moaned into the table.
"I thought you were going to lay low!"
"It's not like I volunteered!" He defended. "The Headmaster just up and picked me!" He sat up and pushed imaginary glasses back onto his nose, adopting a mock deeper voice. "And the leader of team Juniper will be this obviously out of his league blond kid. That'll be fun for everyone."
Terrible situation aside, I remembered why I liked Jaune so much. That boy can take just about anything in stride.
I chuckled. "You're a dead man, you know that, right?"
He gave me a small smile and slumped in his chair. "Yeah, probably." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "So, what about you? How is your life ending today? You said you got a job here, right? I'm surprised they hired someone under-aged to work at a bar."
Look, I promised that I wouldn't lie to you, I didn't say anything about Jaune, so you take that judgement shit somewhere else. Besides, it was technically true.
I coughed and covered my face with a napkin. "Yep. Doing real great, don't worry about me."
He sighed with relief. "Well, at least one of us is."
See? He feels better. All I had to do was tell him a little white lie. Nobody got hurt, and honestly, how hard could it be to keep up?
"Girly!" A now unfortunately familiar voice boomed from the broken front door as Roman and his little murder machine chose that exact moment to waltz in. "Time to pay off some debt!"
You ever just wish for death? You know, like that would be preferable to having the conversation that you know you're about to have? Yeah, now imagine that that conversation is going to be with the world's most flamboyant thief. And yes, I'm aware that I tempted fate, but both you and fate are free to fuck off. Jaune, to his credit, his brave, dumb, dumb credit, jumped to his feet.
"Em, it's-" he got about halfway to his sword before I could open my mouth to warn him. I don't know how Neo moves as fast as she does, but an instant later there was a Jaune shaped imprint in the dark wood of the bar and he was flat on his back on the floor, the little psycho's knee pressing down into his neck, cutting off his air supply. Yesterday had been a good day to unlock his Aura.
"Get off." I growled, my hand finding the grip of my pistol as a threat. A very empty threat. A fact which Neo unfortunately seemed to know.
Neo is many things, and depending on when you asked, I might have different answers as to what those things were, but one thing she has been, is, and will always be is a bitch. It's just her nature. She grinned up at me, eyes twinkling in amusement, and nodded towards my weapon encouragingly, digging her knee further into Jaune's neck and forcing a painful cough out of him. I hissed and prepared to do something dumb. That is, until I heard the click of Roman's cane coming to rest behind my ear.
"Now, now. We have to stop meeting like this." He chided playfully, before pressing the barrel against my head. "Hands on the bar, if you don't mind."
I sighed and held my hands up in surrender. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt him."
"Awww, isn't that sweet?" He mocked. "Fortunately for you, I didn't come here today looking to have to bury a body. If your knight in dingy armor promises to be good and ask Neo real nicely, I'm sure she'll let him up."
Jaune attempted something approaching a nod as he frantically tapped on Neo's leg. The little bitch stared at me as tapped her finger on her lips like she was considering whether or not she would let him up for a minute before finally removing her knee. Jaune gasped for breath and covered his throat protectively, smartly not reaching for his sword again.
"See? We can all be friends." Roman said as he lowered his cane. "Neo, help the poor boy up."
The multicolored assassin dutifully pulled Jaune up to his feet and began mockingly dusting him off and straightening his clothes as he wobbled around, still short on breath. I relaxed for a moment and turned to tell Roman off before Jaune yelped and I had to fight to keep my hand from falling to my pistol again. He was rubbing his ass and glaring at Neo, who had the balls to look me in the eye as she mouthed, 'whoops.'
Like I said, she's a bitch.
"Apologies, Neo can get a bit handsy sometimes." Roman explained lazily. "She didn't mean anything by it, did you, Neo?" The little monster just smirked and shrugged, earned a sigh from her boss. "Or maybe not. You all can sort out your hate boners on your own time."
"What do you want?" I snapped, feeling none too pleased with the way this all was going, or what it pointed to.
"Like I said, I'm here to collect on a tiny, tiny part of what you owe me, Girly." He said, leaning against his cane. "I've got a job for you."
"You already gave me a job."
"Junior gave you a job." He corrected. "This is an independent contractor situation, minus the independence. You work for multiple bosses."
"What-" Jaune coughed again as he warily stared down Torchwick. "What's he talking about, Em?"
"You haven't told him?" Roman tsked. "You know what they say about being honest with your partner, right?" He shrugged. "Well, hopefully you do, cause I don't. I try to avoid honesty as a policy."
"Tell me what, Em?" Jaune insisted.
Remember when I said I wish I could just curl up in a ball and die rather than have this conversation? I just wanted to double down on that position.
"Jaune, I-" I swallowed, "the thing is…" I don't know if you've tried to explain that you've gotten yourself rolled up in what is essentially human trafficking, but I'm all ears if you've got suggestions as to how to go about it. Roman just rolled his eyes.
"She's working for me and the guy who owns this club as payment for that little stunt you two pulled the other night."
I guess you could just do it that way.
"Let her go!" Jaune growled, reaching for his sword again before Neo grabbed his wrist and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Your boyfriend isn't too smart." Roman observed.
"He's not my-" I cursed. "Jaune, just stow the heroics before she puts you on the ground again."
"But he-"
"It's fine." I assured him. "I mean, it's not fine, but it's kinda fine. Nothing weird is happening. I'm just...helping these guys steal a bit." Really it wasn't that different from the normal day to day.
"See? Just services rendered for an interruption in business. Nothing sinister." Roman comforted.
"We were stopping you from stealing!" Jaune argued.
"And?"
"It's illegal!"
"Oh yes, it's illegal." Roman drawled. "Tell me, since you've got such a good view from up on that high horse, do you think it's more or less illegal than paying for forged documents?"
Ok, it's definitely more illegal, but I see his point. Jaune was considerably less amused.
"She's not staying here." He growled.
Jaune, you brave, noble, idiot.
"Hey kid, I'm willing to let you test your ability to do anything about it. No skin off my nose. Neo doesn't get enough exercise as it is."
Jaune looked down at the little monster still attached to his wrist. She waved up at him and slowly shook her head. His shoulders slumped and she patted him on the arm comfortingly.
"Yeah, I thought so. Besides, you're right, she isn't staying here." Jaune's head popped up with far more excitement than I would have advised given who he was talking to. "She's going out on a job."
"She's not-"
"What kind of job?" I cut in. I appreciated the moral support, but this wasn't getting us anywhere.
"Glad you asked!" The thief said as he pulled out his scroll and began tapping away at it. "You see, I've got a schedule of Dust acquisition to keep for some very scary people, and thanks to you, I'm down a lot of good men. Well, men in any case." He amended after a moment.
I made a mental note that there were people that Roman Torchwick considered to be 'very scary,' and pressed again before Jaune could jump in.
"You want us to rob someone."
"Yep." Roman said, turning his scroll around show off a map with what looked like traffic routes and hubs highlighted on it. "Jacques Schnee."
Jaune scoffed. "You want us to go after the SDC?"
Hold up, us? Roman apparently shared my surprise.
"Uh, I wanted her to go. I hadn't really planned on asking you, capable warrior though you clearly are." He finished, earning a silent snicker from Neo.
I was impressed with how well Jaune rolled with that particular punch. "I'm going with her."
Jaune, you dumb, dumb...dummy.
"Jaune, I don't think-"
"Great! Fuck it. I really couldn't care less." Roman shot back.
"If you'll excuse us for just one moment." I said as I grabbed my friend by the collar of his dumb hoodie and pulled him close. "What the hell are you doing?" I hissed.
"Backing you up." He challenged.
"Yeah? You and all your B&E experience?"
He tsked. "Like you've done anything bigger than pick pocketing."
Touche.
"Great, we're both out of league. Now I really feel better about the whole thing."
"Look, I'm not going to let my best friend walk into a dangerous situation alone." He looked away, "especially when it's my fault that you're in this situation in the first place."
Ouch. Ok, let's cover a couple of things real quick. One, I'm a weak, weak bitch for this emotional guilt type stuff, only slightly offset by the fact that I know that Jaune knows this, and that if he puts the words 'best friend' somewhere in a sentence, I'll probably agree to just about anything. Two, in the interest of keeping up our full-disclosure agreement, I'm mildly terrified, so I'm not too ready to call him on his bullshit. I opened my mouth to say something poignant and heartfelt, but Roman beat me to it.
"Hey, flirt on your own time! I've got a schedule to keep here."
I sighed and squeezed Jaune's shoulder, nodding in thanks before turning around to face the bowler hat wearing goon.
"Ok, we're in."
He rolled his eyes. "I know you're in. I told you you were in."
"Just tell us the goddamn job!" I snapped.
"Fine," he grumbled, holding out his hand. "Give me your scroll."
I fished it out of me back pocket and handed it over, watching as he tapped it together with his own and they glowed with the transfer of data. He grunted and passed it back.
"There you go, all set. Be free to go forth and wreak havoc in my name." He said with a dismissive wave.
"Gee, thanks, boss." I muttered before snatching up Jaune's wrist and pulling him away from the little harpy, who waved at him enthusiastically, and towards the door. The sooner we got out of here, the sooner we could get away from these loons before anything else crazy happened, or even better yet - disappear from Vale altogether. I'm sure Mistral had a decent Huntsman academy Jaune could fake apply to.
"Oh, one more thing." Roman drawled behind us.
Goddammit.
My shoulders slumped and I didn't even bother turning around as I tiredly asked.
"Yeah?"
"You two need some adult supervision. Just to make sure you don't find something more entertaining to do than your job, you know, hormones and all that."
"We're not-"
"Neo's going with you."
That little girl maybe mute, but she made sure to clap loudly enough to let me know what she thought about the idea without having to turn around.
What a bitch.
Memory Lane
You know, as much as I love Mama Arc, I really felt like she acted far more shocked than she had any right to when she got called to the principle's office that first week of school.
I was far from house broken.
I was kinda shocked that we were there in the first place, all we had been doing was some harmless-
"Gambling!?" Mama Arc asked the principle with a gasp.
Yeah, that.
The dour older man nodded sympathetically. "I'm afraid so ma'am. They've apparently been putting together some kind of gambling ring over the past week. Playing blackjack or something or other."
"It wasn't blackjack." I muttered, earning an immediate and terrifying glare from Mama Arc. I weathered it as best as could be expected. Not well.
"It was three card Monte." Jaune supplied helpfully. He did even less well with the glare than I did, trying to sink down into his chair. Mama Arc rolled her eyes and looked back at the principle.
"What were they even betting on? It's not like they have money."
"Lunch money and candy apparently." The principle supplied, clearly not up to date on the universal no snitching policy. "They actually made a tidy little profit."
Mama Arc shook her head in disbelief. "I just can't believe that my little Jaune would resort to something like this."
You'll notice that there was a name missing there. I did.
The principle coughed. "Well actually, it seems that it was Miss Emerald that was actually running the card game. Young Jaune was being a...what did you call it again young man?"
"A hype man?" He offered.
A damn good one too.
"Ah yes, that's it." The older man agreed. "Now Mrs. Arc, I know that Jaune doesn't have any history with misbehavior, but please understand that we can't such behavior go unpunished."
She nodded back. "Oh trust me, it won't be. If you'd be willing to though, I'd ask that you leave this to me-" The principle started to open his mouth to protest, '-and Arthur." His mouth snapped shut.
"Of course." He quickly grumbled. "I'm sure that Mr. Arc can persuade the children without the school having to get involved."
"Believe me, once he's had a chance to talk with them, there won't be anymore 'three card Monte' going on at your school." She promised while staring us down. And she was right, after getting the third degree from Papa Arc, we did give that game up.
We moved on the blackjack.
The Shipping War
Crooc and I stare in horror at the violence unfolding in front of us. Explosions continuously tear the earth asunder as artillery shell after artillery shell are fired from fortified and seemingly unmovable encampments, forming deadly rainbows in the sky before they slam into the ground with a terrible roar. In front of the fortifications are trenches, so deep that they could easily swallow a man whole, filled with men and women armed to the teeth with every weapon imaginable, all firing at twin trenches across the battlefield. There were no true battlelines, and fire and shells crisscrossed across dozens of different encampments.
Never have I seen such chaos.
"Crooc, what is this madness?" I whisper.
He just shakes his head numbly. "I don't know, old friend."
"Hey you two!" Both our gazes shift to an unhappy looking man sitting behind an unsteady looking wooden desk in front of the raging battle. "Yeah, you! Here to sign up for the war?" He asks.
"What war?" I ask Crooc, who just shrugs in return. We make our way over the grumpy looking fellow and I ask again. "What war, good sir?"
He scoffs and slams a hand down on the desk in irritation. "Why the Shipping War of course! We always need more bodies for the war!"
I shoot Crooc a confused look. "But sir, Shipping isn't about fighting, it's about building, it's about-"
The man cuts me off with an angry groan. "Not another one of you damn peaceniks! Why don't you ever learn? It's about fighting, it's always been about fighting, it'll always be about fighting."
"But sir, there's an entire sea of fandom right behind us." I tried again to explain, turning back towards the way we came. "There are ship builders and captains-"
"Can it, hippy! The only captain you need to worry about is Atic."
"Who?"
"Captain Atic, officer in charge of Topaz company and your new boss. Congratulations gentlemen, you've been drafted." He declared, slamming a massive stamp down onto a document that seemed to have appeared out nowhere. One bearing both our names.
"But we never agreed to-"
"NEXT!" The unhappy man roared. I started to tell him that we were the only ones here, but I felt Crooc place a hand on my shoulder, turning me around. To my shock, there was a line of people reaching out to the horizon itself, all looking as confused as we were. Two men in gray uniforms came up and snatched Crooc and I by the arm, dragging us towards the battle.
And so our war began.
