So, there were no updates this weekend due to the passing away of my oldest dog, the one I'd been taking to and from the vet for the past few months. Thanks to everyone understanding why I couldn't update this weekend and I didn't get a single "Where is the chapter!?" PM for which I am grateful.
I'll be trying to move things back to normal now. Still feeling rough, but it's more in the `sad moments when looking at spots he used to occupy and finding him missing` kind of way. And seeing my surviving puppy spend her time looking for him.
Cover Art: Serox
Chapter 22
"Just stay down and no one has to get hurt."
Roman waved his cigar toward the three employees of the dust store who were huddling behind the counter holding onto one another. The White Fang moved between the shelves with jars and metal briefcases, draining dust and storing them within the velvet lined metal. They moved quickly – too quickly – with the haste of people not used to criminal activity and worried about being caught. In that sense, they weren't as disciplined as Adam's crew. Then again, these were fresh volunteers. Everyday people. They looked at him like he was a dust bomb about to go off.
Not as much as the frightened staff did. Roman might have enjoyed bossing them around but it was him they kept their eyes on, flinching whenever he looked their way. He'd stopped a few minutes ago, focusing on the street outside instead when it became too awkward to see a grown man almost cry at the sight of him.
"Ah. The smell of a successful operation." Roman came up beside him. Jaune couldn't help but think `success` smelled like tobacco. Too much of it. "Much easier when Beacon is in term. No random appearances from ridiculously powerful huntresses to ruin your day."
"Weren't you captured by a fifteen-year-old?"
"Goodwitch. I meant Goodwitch." Roman frowned at him for all of the three seconds it took him to realise who he was crossing. Jaune was almost disappointed when Roman flinched and adopted a much humbler tone. "Course, it helps you took her out. Nice to have a job go without a hitch for once."
"Should you say that so early? The police could show."
"Haven't so far. This is the last hit of the night, too. You know why they're so slow, don't you?"
Jaune had an inkling. "Because I'm here."
"Bingo. They probably want to gather the squads to face you – that takes time. Can't afford to split up and run into you with anything less than full power, so by hitting multiple places in one night, we stack the odds in our favour."
"You think they're at one of the previous places we hit?"
"Almost certainly. Dust stores get robbed all the time; the stock is valuable, easy to transport and easy to sell on. Not every time one gets hit by Jaune Arc, though. They'll focus their attentions on where they know you've definitely been, not where you `might` be."
If that were true, then they'd never catch him. It sounded backwards to him, but he wasn't in charge of a police force made up of everyday people with limited training and little chance against his Semblance. Maybe it was best for the VPD if they didn't run into him, and they might have known that. By keeping the heat on him, they made it so he had to do things a little quicker. Was it all some message? Do your business quickly and without harming anyone? Probably not. He was reading into things too much.
A few vehicles blurred past in the rain, splashing the sidewalk with water and casting dizzying lights from full beams through the windows. They shone over his face, illuminating him in a garish light that had one of the employees whimpering. It was pathetic, frustrating but also perfectly justified. Jaune sighed and wished he could put in some headphones and music to cut it all out.
It's amazing how easily Atlas convinced the world I'm a murdering psychopath. That was the power of Governments, he supposed. Probably media and propaganda and all the things Adam said kept the White Fang back from peaceful actions as well. Doesn't help that Chivalric Arms killed that man working at the train station. That's probably been pinned on me as well. Idly, he looked to the cowering staff. They were probably hoping for rescue, but the irony was they were safer without it. They wouldn't want the kind of rescue Chivalric Arms would bring.
"Dust is secured," a masked faunus said. "Shall we load it in the cars?"
"No. Lather it all over your bodies." Roman rolled his eyes. "What do you think you should do?"
The faunus ignored him completely.
"Load it in the cars," Jaune said.
"Sir!"
"Oh sure, pretend you can't hear me. Not like I'm the master thief here." Scowling, Roman flicked his cigar to the floor and stamped on it, grinding the embers into ash. "You know, things were a lot easier before. Just me doing my thing. No crazy people showing up to steal the show for their ideological wars."
"You were captured by a fifteen-year-old."
"And no one to constantly remind me of that either! One time. One time and no one lets you forget it. And it wasn't the brat who did it – it was the stacked huntress two to three times her age."
"Who I took out. At half to a third her age."
Roman looked positively sulky, hunching up his shoulders and pushing out the dust shop with a grumble. The White Fang were already unloading their stolen stock into the boots of two used cars outside. They weren't unmarked, now were they tinted in the window or armed with weapons as one might have expected. They were everyday vehicles, one silver and the other in a deep shade of burgundy. Perfect for moulding into traffic and never being seen again.
They'd left him as the last inside.
Sighing, he turned to face the three behind the counter. They bunched tighter together and the youngest, who even then had to be at least twenty, started to cry. Jaune sighed a second time, running a cold hand down his stony face. The last two stores hadn't been much better. At least none of these had started to list out reasons why he shouldn't kill them.
Mors came up to point at them. The second burst out in tears.
"We're leaving," he told them. "Stay there and don't get in my way and you'll live to see morning. Call the police, try to stop me, or even annoy me once and I might decide you're easier to get along with dead. Am I understood?"
"Y-Yes!" the only one who wasn't in tears stammered. "P-Please, we won't move a muscle."
Fear. Terror. It worked where kindness didn't. Jaune wished it could be otherwise but talking with them just didn't work. It never did. He'd tried to reason with them – tried to explain that if they just kept quiet, they'd be fine. It just didn't work when no one would listen to you. Like the faunus in Atlas, they either refused to hear or refused to believe him. Like the faunus in Atlas, he'd fallen back on the only thing that did work – violence.
"Consider yourselves lucky," Jaune said, lowering his weapon. "This time."
It was only when he turned away that the last of them burst into tears, and that one was probably as much relief as fear. Ignoring the bile rising up his throat, Jaune pushed out into the rain and let the cold droplets against his face soothe him. Threatening people was the last thing he wanted to do, but it worked. It was the only thing that did. And in the end, wasn't it better? They got out safely and he didn't have to kill anyone. Why did he have to live in a world where threatening to murder people was the only viable option?
"Didn't kill anyone?" Roman quipped. "Sure you're not going soft?"
"The night is still young."
Roman flinched and looked away.
Jaune sighed. He'd meant it as a joke – he'd even thought it somewhat funny. Wasn't it obvious he wasn't going to kill his allies? Apparently not.
"Forget it. We're done, right?" He waited for the nod and turned to the White Fang. "Take the dust back to your stores. I'll be leaving with Roman. Someone inform Adam of our success tonight."
The White Fang rushed to obey.
/-/
The car stank of cigar smoke.
Jaune had cracked the window open a little, but even that wasn't enough to fully dispel Roman's constant puffing. Since they were mostly sticking to the speed limit and avoiding trouble, he couldn't open it all the way and hang bodily out like he wanted to. The poor little pine tree hanging from the mirror couldn't fight it off alone. Twisting and turning in the air, its fragrant scent was as downtrodden as the faunus.
"We did good work tonight," Roman remarked. He had both hands on the wheel and his eyes ahead. Traffic so late at night was light, but the heavy rain made it worse. The windscreen wipers were sweeping back and forth with a constant rubbing noise. "This isn't going to put us back on track, but it's a start."
"Us?"
"Me," Roman admitted. "I meant me. You're helping and I appreciate it, boss. I'm the one behind schedule. Slip of the tongue, I promise."
"You're behind on more than just dust," Jaune whispered. It didn't go unheard and the man beside him stiffened. It was honestly getting tiring, but what was he supposed to do? Roman was a thief and a criminal and, in some amazing way, that made him even less trustworthy than Blake had been. It hadn't stopped her betraying him and it wouldn't stop Roman doing the same if he thought he could get away with it.
Was it better to rule through fear or love? The answer was obvious – but how could he make any of these people love him? They were convinced he was a monster. Even if he tried his hardest to be kind and not hurt anyone, they just assumed he was biding his time. How did Adam handle it? Or did he really have to face it? Adam might have been hated by mankind, but his own allies knew him as a resourceful and serious commander. He ruled through respect.
Not much chance of me getting love or respect from someone like Torchwick. I guess fear is all I have. As long as it gets my family out safe, I'll deal with it. Roman would too. If he helped, he'd be spared. And in the end, wasn't that the reward he wanted?
The silence in the car was heavy. When Roman's scroll broke it, the man almost jumped out his seat.
"Damn!" he cursed, jerking on the wheel a little. "Scared the life out of me." Reaching forward, he tapped the screen. The scroll was set in a holder on the dash, allowing Roman to talk and drive. "Roman here."
"Roman. It's me."
"Junior! Just the man I've been waiting to hear from." Roman swallowed, eyes glancing to the killer next to him before saying, "Tell me you have good news, Junior. I've never needed it more than I do now."
"I have a lead."
Jaune's attention snapped to the scroll.
"You brilliant, wonderful, stallion of a man, you!" Roman laughed the laugh of a man granted a stay of execution. "I owe you, Junior. I owe you big time for this. Hit us – the kid's in the car as well. What do you have?"
"I've been looking into logistics and haulage as I said. Officially, Chivalric Arms doesn't have any haulage companies tied to it operation in Vale. Officially again, that's because they don't have any operations in Vale. However," Junior stressed the word, leaning into the scroll's lens. "The train freight records on Mistral's end do indicate CA haulage taking something to the train. So, things weren't adding up."
"Not for nothing, Junior, but I hope you have more for us than that. The kid rode the train in from Mistral. He knows they had cargo on it."
"Patience, Roman. Now, somewhere between Mistral and Vale the logs were changed. That's either someone working in Vale's freight or someone working on Mistral's end. Main clue came in when you told me how your friend broke into the train station and found evidence of CA's name on the system. Guess what?"
"It's not there anymore?" Jaune said.
If Junior was surprised to hear his voice, he didn't let it show. "Spot on. You found it because you got there before they had their mole wipe the records clean – it probably took them a little longer what with the police presence."
"Again," Roman said nervously. "Interesting, but not entirely useful. Junior, I really need you to have something a little more-"
"I've located the haulage company they're using, or at least they one they `claim` they're using. And a time slot for pick-up."
"I take it back. You're a genius, Junior. An absolute genius. When, who and where?"
"The haulage is being split into two trips to lessen suspicion. One of those was shipped out yesterday so you've missed that one, but the second half is tonight. Now, even."
Jaune's hand gripped the door. "Where?" he snapped.
"If you head toward the trains you should run across them. It's Wokstar – yeah, the restaurant chain. Not sure if they're in cahoots with CA or just being used as cover, but I checked the records and there are no official Wokstar transports passing through Vale this week so it's probably just a disguise. Whatever is in there sure as hell isn't stir-fry vegetables."
Roman twisted the wheel and took them down a side street, engine rumbling as they cut away from the main road. "Cheers, Junior. We'll get on that now. Throw the cost on my tab. You know I'm good for it."
"Sure thing. I'm sending a picture of a Wokstar truck over. Help you spot it."
The call ended, but Roman's scroll pinged again, and a picture of a typical lorry appeared. The livery on the sides was what mattered – a solid black with a beautiful image of a wok being tossed over an open fire, mushrooms and vegetables flying in the air above it. To the right of it read `Wokstar` in golden font with a stylised dragon roaring below it.
"I told you Junior would come through, kid. I told you."
There was more relief in Roman's voice than smugness. Jaune let it go. Results were results. "You did. Well done, Roman. How are we doing this?"
"We'll follow from a distance. The actual attack is all you - I don't know anything about these people. That vehicle must be going somewhere, though. We'll find it, follow it and decide what to do after." Another turn brought them onto a quiet road and Roman accelerated, tearing across the slick tarmac. "Nice and easy."
"Is it? Finding one vehicle in all of Vale can't be that simple."
"Easier than you think." Their car pulled up a long ramp and onto a suspended freeway cutting over the rooftops of the city. "If it's coming from downtown, it'll be up here somewhere – there!" He pointed with one hand suddenly. Jaune leaned forward, hands on the dash.
It was the golden dragon that gave it away. Junior had sent them a picture sideways on, but the back had the same dragon as the side did. The single truck was in the shoulder lane and driving sedately, all lights on and otherwise acting like any other lorry going about its business.
Jaune's fingers dug into the leather. He had to force himself to sit back. There wouldn't be one of his family in the back of that. It was haulage from the train. But where it was headed might have answers or even one of them.
Roman didn't need to be told what to do. He cut his speed and fell into traffic about two cars back. The rain was cutting down across Vale now, obscuring much of their vision. The taller red lights of the lorry provided something to follow, however.
They hummed along for a good fifteen minutes in silence. Roman didn't dare speak and Jaune was too busy staring at the red lights. What was the plan? It was his to make up. Adam handled it normally, but he didn't have that safety net anymore. Did he need it? He'd learned a lot and knew how to fight now. Or rather, he knew how to kill with his Semblance. The rest, he could fill in as he needed to.
The Wokstar lorry turned left and down a long ramp, coming off the freeway at last – and still well within the confines of the city. Their car followed at a distance. Jaune thought of telling Roman to cut the headlights before realising that would only make them look more suspicious. Or get them pulled over by the police. Instead, he bit his lip and watched the back of the lorry as it turned down onto an industrial compound.
It was a walled off compound with six individual warehouses and businesses inside. The kind of place where businesses would rent space from a much larger investment group. A placard outside named it `Matteson Industrial Complex` and it was apparently sponsored and funded by the Mistral International Business fund. A taller sign up the side of the entrance listed the six individual companies that rented lots within it, none of which were Chivalric Arms or Wokstar.
Roman didn't enter. As the lorry was registered and allowed through, he took the car down the road and away, leaving Jaune to look back between the seats and out the rear window. It'd definitely gone in.
"Looks like this is the place," Roman said. "One of those six warehouses anyway. Now that we have an idea, we can have Junior look into-" He balked as the car door opened. "W-What are you doing!?"
"This is the place." Jaune already had one leg out. "We're going in."
"What? Now!?" Roman swore and fumbled his car door open, climbing out into the rain and gripping how bowler hat tight. His cigar was snuffed out almost instantly and his orange hair quickly became plastered to the sides of his face. "Are you for real?" he yelled over the car roof and the wind. "We should gather intel first. Plan this out. Get the White Fang to help."
"They already know I'm here. I'm not giving them more time. And the White Fang here is useless. You know that. We'll be more than enough."
Roman stared at him. He stared long and hard, gnashing his doused cigar around his mouth before spitting it on the ground and hefting his weapon. "Fucking hell!" he swore. "I can't believe this. I literally can't believe this! An' I've gotta come along, haven't I? Otherwise I'll have the White Fang and her asking what happened to you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Are you done?"
"Done with you, maybe. Gah!" Roman removed his bowler hat and slicked his wet hair back. "Alright, fine. Let's get this show on the road. You better be as good as you say you are, kid, or we're going to be in real trouble here."
Well, maybe Roman would get to see. It wouldn't hurt for him to know just how dangerous a person he was dealing with. If nothing else, it would make Roman think twice about betraying him.
"That won't be a problem."
/-/
The soldier's body hit the ground.
"The fuck is wrong with you!?"
Jaune hummed, turning to see Roman watching him with obvious fear. "What?" Jaune asked, frowning. "They're armed soldiers attacking us in what I'm reliably told is a company that develops mobility scooters for the elderly. Unless that market is a lot more dangerous than I expected, this is the Chivalric Arms base we're looking for."
The rows of murderous robots lining the inside of the Wokstar lorry said as much too. Luckily, those were all switched off for transport, making their attack both a complete surprise and a well timed one. The soldiers hadn't seen them coming, though they'd certainly responded quick enough, opening fire.
"Not that, you psycho. You killed all of them…"
"Yes. And?" Jaune stepped over the dead body of one and further into the building. The gunshots had to have been heard. "They shot at us first, and didn't I tell you before that Chivalric Arms cleans the building? They killed every single person we spared in Mistral." The people here were already dead. Whether it was by him or Chivalric Arms, they wouldn't see the dawn. "You're a criminal, too."
"I'm not a murderer!" Roman gingerly made his way around the corpses. "I mean sure, a couple of people have died thanks to me – but I keep my body count low and more importantly, deniable. I've one innocent woman to my name and she died of a heart attack in a stand-up. Even then, I tried to save her. Only ones I've willingly killed are worse scum that deserved it."
Jaune nodded distractedly. "Same."
"Same!? This is not the same, kid. Holy shit! They were – Hell, we don't know what they were. They could have just been following orders."
"Does that really matter?"
Jaune stooped and rummaged in the vest of one. Roman balked, but it wasn't like he was sticking his hands in blood. The man died from several shots to the stomach and one that caught his head. His chest area was fine. Sure enough, he found the ID he was looking for in the breast pocket, stood and held it to the electronically locked door. The light flashed green and it pinged open. He moved ahead with Mors held out before him, eyes scanning every corner.
Really, what did Roman want from him? What was he supposed to do when people opened fire? Take it? Holster his gun and fight in melee? Blake could do that, but he couldn't. Maybe if Blake were still here, she could have saved those people's lives. He couldn't. And he wasn't sure he really cared to risk his and his family's life to make the effort.
These people knew they were running an illegal operation. It was a little hard to claim innocence when you were literally shipping killer robots out the back of a mobility scooter business. Even if they didn't know or agree with the depths of what Chivalric Arms did, they weren't `innocent people just doing their job` like Roman thought.
And Chivalric Arms will wash their hands of them soon enough.
If they were all going to die anyway, what does it matter if he was the one to do it?
"Just keep up," he ordered. "This place is a lot smaller than what I'm used to. I guess they can't dig underground bases in the middle of the city."
"Y-Yeah." Roman continued to duck around the fallen bodies with a squeamish expression. "Not unless they want to burst water pipes or dig right into the sewers. You know, people aren't going to take this well even if they're doing some shady shit. You're going to come out of this looking like a psycho."
"Isn't that how everyone sees me already?"
"Just saying, you're not helping your case. Stuff like this sells it."
That was fine. There was no case. Atlas had decided it was closed, cut and dry long ago. He was the villain; Chivalric Arms weren't involved; his family were expendable. If Vale wanted to stick their heads in the sand and believe the same thing without listening to his side of the story, so be it. He'd done his best not to hurt any innocent people since arriving, but it didn't seem to matter to anyone.
The interior of the warehouse was much more rough and ready than the custom-built facilities in Atlas and Mistral. They were lacking the usual white metal walls and long corridors, replaced instead by cubicles and tall metal partitions that reached up toward the ceiling. The security on the doors was suspicious high spec, and the fact the alarm hadn't gone off was even more so because it made it clear Chivalric Arms didn't want the police responding.
They had something to hide – and that had Jaune's blood pumping.
The next door opened into a shotgun. The blast struck him in the chest and knocked him back, buckshot exploding over his chest and spiking up into his neck. Roman yelled something, but Jaune didn't hear, catching himself on the doorframe and shooting once inside. In the time between firing, the man cocked the shotgun again. Null remained dormant, but the soldier hadn't expected that and dove to the side, fully believing the shot would be fatal. The second blast from the shotgun impacted his left side and the wall together.
Growling, Jaune pushed through – again ignoring Roman yelling about something or another. He charged the soldier down, smacking the barrel away as it discharged a third time. The kick almost knocked him off balance. The soldier took advantage of that, slamming the shotgun up into his chin and trying to work the barrel around again. Jaune still had hold of it, however, and they tussled briefly before the soldier dropped it, drew a knife, and stabbed at Jaune's eye. Closing it and twisting away, he still gasped at the horrible sensation of a blade grating over his temple and ear.
Snapping Mors into the man's stomach, his eyes flickered gold, purple and blue. The soldier's eyes widened a moment before the trigger was pulled three times, less shooting and more injecting the bullets directly up and into the soldier's gut. He toppled with a muted cry, clutching his stomach in a vain effort to stop the blood pumping out of him. Jaune aimed the gun higher and planted one in his head. A small mercy.
"Fuck!" Roman swore again. "Will you stop murdering literally everyone we meet!?"
"I'm not-" Jaune saw the man in the lab coat run for a weapons cabinet. "Freeze!" he called out, aiming at his back. "Answer my questions and I'll spare you." Panicking and hyperventilating, the scientist ignored him and kept going, almost crashing into the metal cabinet, and hauling it open. "Don't!" Jaune ordered. "I will kill you."
"I'd do as he says, friend," Roman called out quickly. "He's got an itchy trigger finger. Put the gun down an-"
"Ah!" The scientist turned with wide eyes and a revolver. "You-"
His chest exploded, coating the open weapons locker behind him with blood and gore. Shakily, the scientist looked down at the ruined mess of his torso before dropping the gun and then dropping himself with a wet thump.
Roman took one look at him, brought his shaking hands up to his head and then started to swear repeatedly. A cigar came out, lighter flickering weakly as he tried to get it lit, swearing even louder when he couldn't. The lighter's tiny click-click soon filled the room as he struggled to get a flame going.
Not even Blake was this bad. He's surprisingly useless outside providing a safehouse. At least he did that alright, and really, what he needed most was someone who knew Vale and the people here. Roman did what he asked of him.
Ignoring his panicking `ally`, Jaune checked the next room along and found several computers switched on. There was no one inside, however. The whole place was relatively quiet. Given that they were masquerading as a legitimate company, it made sense they might keep their operations to daytime hours. It'd draw attention otherwise.
"Guess we lucked out," he said more to himself than Roman, sitting at one of the online computers and flicking through it. "This place is nowhere near as well protected as their last facilities were. I guess it's harder to get as many armed soldiers into Vale, not to mention the robots."
The fact they were shipping them in now suggested they were worried about him. They were beefing up their security in expectation of his attack. While it was satisfying to know they were afraid, it didn't help all that much. It might even put his family in danger.
"Roman," he yelled. "Will you get in here and help out?"
"With what? You're doing a fine job icing everyone we see. What do you even need me for?""
"Excuse me for not politely asking the people shooting me if they'd like to surrender."
"You don't even get it, do you?" Roman stalked into the room with his cigar finally lit and his hat nowhere to be seen. His har was ruffled and sticking up like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. "I'm not bothered by you killing them in self-defence. It's the fucking look on your face while you do it!"
Jaune's fingers stopped on the keyboard. "What look? I don't enjoy this."
"No. But you don't dislike it either. You look like Junior when he's mopping down the bar – like you're just going through the motions and can't be arsed either way. Like it's just a thing you do, like taking a leak or drawing breath." Roman took a seat nearby, setting his weapon down on the desk as he started to chip in. "It's fucking terrifying if I can be honest with you. You're terrifying."
He wasn't. Roman only said that because he was seeing the bad side of things, but it wasn't like he went out his way to make anyone suffer. I'm doing this to save my family too. That has to count for something. Probably not in Roman's books. The guy looked like he'd sell his own brother out if it made him some money. I'm not the problem. Chivalric Arms is. If they didn't do this, I'd not have to become like I am now.
It was their fault. Not his. He was… He was just doing what he had to. No one called a father stealing to buy medicine for his sick daughter evil. How was this any different? Jaune closed his eyes and fought the pounding headache. It was the same thing.
He was doing the right thing. He was sure of it.
"Think I've found something." Never had he been so relieved for Roman's voice. Pushing his chair back, he came over to hover behind him and stare at the screen. "Something weird here – get this. Development of an Anti-Null weapon." He laughed. "What the hell is Null?"
"I am. I'm Null."
Roman's laughter died off with a squeak. "A-Alright then. Fuck me, I suppose."
"It's fine. Keep reading."
"Right. Development of the Anti-Null weapon continuing at Site 3 after retreat from Atlas Site Alpha following containment breach of Null and attack by White Fang. Successful landing outside Vale and infiltration into the city to Site 3 has seen work continue at an acceptable pace."
It's not one of my family then? There must have been another test subject kept there. By the sounds of it, it was a safety net designed to deal with him. Maybe a way to keep him in control or kill him if he ever got out of hand. Something to do with aura or Semblance manipulation? It couldn't be another aura nullifier like himself, but if there was someone who could become immune to Semblances – including Null – then that could work.
Either way, it obviously hadn't been up and running or they wouldn't have felt the need to flee with it on the Bullheads with his family. Jaune's fingers dug into the back of Roman's seat. Frustration ripped through him at the thought of coming this far and not even finding one of his sisters, but he kept quiet, allowing Roman to read.
"Operational Notes: Weapon capable of isolating and taking advantage of Null's self-inflicted vulnerability to incapacitate or kill. Note: though Weapon viable countermeasure to Null, weapon's handling is still an issue. It is the suggestion of Dr Matte to heighten electrotherapy – if Null is coming to Vale as expected, the weapon must be operational in time. Safeties and limiters on electrical charges can and should be ignored. Addendum: Dr Matte's employment terminated after causing traumatic brain injury to Anti-Null weapon. Jnr Dr Meadows promoted to Snr Doctor."
Roman scrolled down a little before he continued. "Note from Snr Dr Meadows: Though the weapon has been permanently damaged by former Dr Matte's ill practice, its motor functions and viability is still well within acceptable bounds. Up until now, we have been utilising one of the Subjects, who appears to have a calming effect on the weapon. However, long-term attachment is ill-advised. We shall be moving onto drug-based conditioning soon…" Roman stopped. "It cuts off there. That's it."
"That must have been Doctor Meadows in the other room," Jaune said. "No wonder he went for a gun. He probably knew he was dead either way. Might even have been to kill himself." The last doctor had been terminated from employment, which he had a suspicion was a lot more final than it sounded. "That would make this Site 3."
"Which means this `weapon` is here." Roman stood. "Well, that's none of our business, right?"
"It is if it can be used against me."
"I had a feeling you'd say that. Fuck me…"
"Do I need to buy a swear jar for you?"
The thief glared back. "Do I need to buy you a murder jar?"
The distant thrumming of an engine in the sky had them both looking up toward the ceiling. The noise was unmistakable; there was a bullhead approaching. Given that the warehouse had no alarm system and there really shouldn't be anyone else in the area to call the police, it likely wasn't them. Even if someone did hear the gunshots, the police would come in with cars and sirens.
"Beacon?" Roman asked hopefully. "Is that Beacon?"
"Somehow, I doubt it. Chivalric Arms must have sent their clean-up crews early this time." Jaune slipped fresh rounds into Mors and cocked it. "I think we should find this Anti-Null weapon and quickly."
"There any way we're getting out of this without causing a bloodbath?" Roman asked hopefully.
Jaune stared right at him.
"Yeah." Roman swallowed. "I thought not…"
Just want to address some small thing. It's intentional, but I've had people note it before and wanted to explain it because some people seemed to think it was an accident on my part. In the show, Roman is a dapper and refined type thief who is obviously very smarmy and very much in control of himself. Therefore to have him cuss and swear as much as he does here must seem out of character for him. I agree. I think he's the type to always try and look calm if nothing else then for his own ego.
His constant swearing in this is on purpose. You'll note, I hope, that Roman only loses control and cusses like a sailor when around Jaune and in tight situations. It's meant as a way to show how badly Roman is rattled by Jaune's actions and mannerisms. Up until the point of Jaune saying they're going in to a gunfight, Roman sticks to "crap" and "hell" at most, then loses it when he starts seeing all the death. It's intended to show that Roman is being taken outside his comfort zone and is, as a result, swearing uncharacteristically. That, quite simply, Roman is terrified of Jaune. Maybe even more afraid of him than Cinder, because at least Cinder comes across as a reasonable nutcase.
It's not me writing it to "be cool" as some people have said – not even sure how that works. I'm 32, not 10. Swearing hasn't been "cool" since primary school. It's used as a tool to show that a character is stressed beyond their normal mannerisms.
Next Chapter: 13th July
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
