Elder did not like this. Any of this.
Tension was in the air. Not of an upcoming battle. That was a friction he was familiar with. More like an impending calamity he was ill prepared to contend with.
This mood persisted even as his loyal forces scrambled to meet the present challenge. The call had been sent out. A dozen brothers and sisters had answered. In less than ten minutes, the seventh floor was locked down.
Their troops were working admirably to implement a contingency plan. Half of the Dust was out and being loaded into secondary vehicles. Dividing their assets was less than ideal, but this increased the odds that some of the resources would make it back to the main camp.
Yet this did not feel like enough. A typhoon of tension pulsed under the skin of the third generation faunus commando. Gales battered at the gates of his self-confidence, threatening to shake him to bits.
No storm lasts forever. There would be a break. He merely had to ensure it was not himself that broke.
"Come on! Pick up the pace!" The White Fang Lieutenant instructed his charges.
He regretted this verbal push. Instead of coming across as reassuring, his tone had broadcasted his worry. Already it was having unintended consequences. Rather than taking the encouragement, they became sloppier.
Due to short notice, it was their less experienced members that had answered the emergency summons. They were city workers, not hardened warriors. Cooks. Mechanics. Fruit sellers. Few had completed basic training. As such, a lack of discipline permeated their actions.
Sentries jumped at shadows. Those unloading Dust became flustered, getting crates stuck or dropping them in transit. The car packers became more self-conscious as they squirreled away their shares.
Nothing the lieutenant could do would fix this. Any more commands on his part would spook them further. He had to let them settle down on their own. To facilitate this, he extracted himself from their direct presence to attend to another pressing matter.
Away from the moving parts, near the back wall, was their unwanted visitor. He sat on the ground, eyes cast to the floor. His hands were tied in front of his body to keep them visible.
Standing over the policeman was a female recruit. In her grasp was the officer's pistol. They believed the threat of being executed with his own gun would keep him in line. So far, it had the desired effect.
As one of the few recruits to have been through the full initiation, she was trusted with the duty. Concerns remained, though. She was untested in a real battle. Her mouse ears flicked in stressful worry while aiming at their captive's chest.
Her superior's approach did little to calm her down. The gun was lowered, however. She trusted him to handle the situation if anything unexpected happened.
"What is the status of our prisoner?" He asked.
"No change, sir. Hasn't said a thing."
More of the same then. The plain-clothes policeman had not spoken since his capture. Of course, the onetime Elder was interested in what a human had to say was when they decided to clam up.
"If he knows what is good for him, he will." The lieutenant kneeled to grab the man's nape and forced a staring contest. "How did you find us? Who else knows? Where is your back-up!?"
The captive wore an unreadable face. There was no defiance or compliance. Just a blankness, as though he had disengaged from reality.
This enraged Elder. "Speak, damn you!"
Nails sunk into flesh. There was a small response to that. The policeman grit his teeth.
The White Fang needed answers. Anything was fair game. Elder was stopped from going further when a hand landed on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw Trifa there with a neutral expression. She flicked her head to the side and walked off.
"This isn't over. You will tell us everything." He stood before addressing the initiate. "Good work so far. Keep it up."
A squeak of 'yessir' followed Elder as he stormed off to locate his advisor. Trifa was over in the far corner. The spy from Menagerie clung to an overhang, scanning the streets below.
"What did your sweep turn up?"
"Nothing. The perimeter is clear of hostiles."
Somehow, that answer concerned him even more. "How far out did you check?"
"All the way to the mall's entrance. If there are more cops, then they have received advanced stealth training."
Unlikely. This was not Atlas. They were a municipal police force, not a military. Annoying to deal with, but not equipped to successfully deploy counter-espionage tactics. Not to the extent that they could fool Trifa.
That left one possibility.
"The cop was running solo."
"It appears so, although I would recommend that we continue our planned dispersal and regroup maneuver."
Elder agreed. If one cop could determine the White Fang's location, others could as well. They did not want to stick around when the rest of VPD came poking around to find their missing friend.
"Do we have a new destination in mind?"
"Our benefactor has been informed of the situation. Her followers will provide."
Yes. Their benefactor. "Do you believe she will come through for us?"
"I do."
That made one of them. Despite his reservations, Elder was inclined to trust Trifa's assessment. She had yet to steer him wrong. He would have been lost on how to organize this raid without her guidance. He grunted his assent.
"That just leaves us with a decision on what to do with our unwelcome guest." The answer was obvious. "I'll order his elimination."
In that regard, Elder might have to carry the order out on his own. The initiates were very green. First kills were always the hardest. They could not afford any of them freaking out at this delicate juncture.
Trifa shook her head. "We shouldn't."
"Why not?"
Their captive was a human and a cop. The worst of both worlds. He was a cog in the system that kept faunus kind down. Removing him would be a step towards dismantling that machine. Trifa going soft on them would have been unfortunate.
"He makes a good bargaining chip."
"Ah. Good thinking."
Practical reasons, then. Something could go wrong while they were in transit. A prisoner would help guarantee their safe passage out of the city.
That made the cop a useful commodity. At least, for a limited time. Once they had relocated, there would be no further need to keep him around. Then they would be free to dispose of him any way they liked.
XIII. Dust Up
"She's up ahead."
"Good. Let's see what's what."
Neo had unexpectedly activated her Scroll's homing functionality. Of course, Jaune had fretted at the lack of an accompanying message. Roman had to explain that her being able to send the rendezvous request meant she was okay.
Still, they had sped through the in-between lanes to the commercial district. The entire way, the kid watched his screen. Rather than staying in one spot, Neo was moving towards them.
When they converged outside an abandoned access tunnel, Jaune was at her side immediately. "Is everything okay?"
"Of course it is." Roman was quick to answer before addressing his partner-in-crime. "You found our thieves?"
Without delay, Neo whipped out her own device. Rather than type out a response, she started a slide show. Apparently, she thought pictures could tell the story better than words.
She was right.
On the projection was a group of masked faunus in gray and white uniforms. They were swarming around an opened crate. The multi-colored glow on their bodies hinted at the Dust contained within."
"Is that-"
"White Fang." Roman clicked the borrowed tongue, before asking Jaune. "You know who they are, right? Do I need to explain the faucets of interkingdom terrorism?"
"I've heard of them." The teen's face pinched tight. "They were the ones who attacked the shop owner?"
"And stole the Dust? Looks that way."
'Why?' was the big money question. Was the Dust for their own ends and the robbery merely opportunism? Or did they receive direction from a certain woman?
Cinder did not seem the type to involve herself with a bunch of radical animals. Nor would those same animals have reason to align with a devil like her. However, Roman could not discount the possibility. She had a way with words and flames.
Flipping through the intel revealed some interesting tidbits. The Fang were out in force. A lack of firearms hinted that they were relying on secrecy and numbers to get by. The majority of the Dust was still with them but was being divided up to smuggle more easily.
There was one other small detail that Jaune was quick to highlight.
"There's a hostage." He gasped.
Under guard was a middle-aged man. Human in appearance. His suit was a shabby beige. The kind of business ensemble someone wears when they have to travel but also need to dress decently on a government salary. The White Fang had gone and caught themselves a bizzy bee.
"Oh no… Anyway-"
"We have to rescue them!"
Did they? Roman did not think so. Judging by Jaune's jittering, the thief had to make concessions to keep his support. Again.
"We'll need a way around the paramilitary first. No point in springing him if we get diced like alpine cheese during the attempt." This cooled the boy down fast enough. "Neo, do you have a layout for me?"
She did. A whole host of pictures depicting entrances and exits flew by. Absorbing the information was made much easier now that Roman no longer needed to blink.
Pieces clicked into place. The largest constraint was time. Since the White Fang were preparing to leave, the trio had to move on them now. Under better circumstances, Roman would have loved to have stolen the Dust out from under their furry snouts.
As it was, options were limited to act now or let them get away. No way was he letting them off after stealing his score. That only left action.
/ / /
"Apologies." The bartender said after scrunching his face in thought. "These people you seek are not among my habitués."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
Letting his broad shoulders sag, Leroy muttered. "Rats."
The Crow Bar had just opened for brunch. Despite being the size of a hotel suite, the boardwalk taproom packed in a lot of character. Glossy wood lined the walls as a slate counter ran the width of the room.
On the other side of the bar top stood the lone server. Dressed in a waistcoat with a green bowtie, he fronted as far fancier than his business locale. Gentrification at its finest.
Knowing they would be busy, the former night watchman arrived early. He thought this would give him more time with a potential information provider. Turned out, precautions were not needed. There was no information to share.
"Would sir care for anything else? A cocktail perhaps?"
"Club soda."
"Aww gee bud," His posh dialect melted away. "I'm trying to run a business here. Would it kill ya to buy a drink?"
"I'm on the clock."
The barman sighed dejectedly before going about filling the order. Leroy was sure to visibly drop a large donation in the tip jar. This was a preventative measure rather than a reflection of good service. He did not want any unsanitary additions to his order.
Full glass in hand and shades firmly pulled down, the faunus placed his chin on his knuckles. Another dead end. This was his third strikeout and the day was young. Plenty of opportunities remained to flounder about.
His foraging had yet to bear fruit. Csenge's list was useful in providing names: Mercury Black. Cinder Fall. Emerald. However, this knowledge by itself was not enough.
It turned out his targets were not ones to bat around their identities. A surprising development, considering how uncareful the male member of the crew had seemed. They knew when to keep their heads down.
The closest Leroy had come to a lead was when a wise guy thought he was asking about a hitman named Marcus Black. While interesting, there was little connecting the two killers. Marcus was much older and had gone silent months ago, likely to lie low after a contract.
Back to square one. Or maybe square zero was more appropriate. Leroy was running out of rocks to turn over.
A TV suspended from the ceiling was tuned to a sports channel. They were replaying the student division finals of the Mistral Regional Tournament from three years prior. He got lost in the fighting as a red-headed gal with a short sword and shield demolished some ax-wielding guy.
Maybe, Leroy considered while watching, he was going about this all wrong. What he was doing was little more than chasing specters. Of the three provided names, he had only met one. Second-hand descriptions were hard to convey. He did not even have a surname for the third member, Emerald.
Instead of finding out where they were, Leroy needed to figure out where they were going. The letter had not stated their objective, but he could surmise one fact. This troika had beef with Roman Torchwick, and the feeling was mutual.
Csenge had told Leroy how the master thief had sent in his locating request. In her words, a 'cute little lamb' delivered the letter. Specifically, a stringy blond teenager had played messenger.
This description sounded like the same boy who visited Roman's flat. Black had arrived soon after, searching for someone. What if that someone was the kid?
The onscreen competition ended as the girl scored a slash across her opponent's back. A judge ran onto the platform to call the match. Confetti filled the stadium as the lower portion of the TV declared '2x Winner - Pyrrha Nikos.'
Turning around on his stool, Leroy peered out over the dock. Blue-green water stretched out to the skyline. Less majestically, a seagull near an overflowing trash can was about to tear into a yellow bag of potato chips. Before the bird could do so, another swooped in to start a squawking contest.
Capturing the mystery teen was important to Black. Important enough to kill eleven unrelated people who got in the way and to spare Leroy when his objective was escaping. That presented an opportunity.
If Leroy found him first, he would have some tasty bait to dangle out there for the sharks. He might even run into one of his targets while doing so. They all would be following the same trail, after all.
Locating the blond would be a tall order. There was even less information on him than on Black and company. Except, there was one lead. The kid worked for Torchwick.
Contacting the client directly was a no-no. Csenge would never allow that as a matter of policy. Her customer had already provided as much info as they were willing to share. Even if she agreed, Torchwick would not hand over his helper.
Leroy would have to use a roundabout method.
"Hey barkeep." He called over his shoulder. "What's the good word on Roman Torchwick these days? Is he up to anything interesting?"
/ / /
Breathing was important. Running, weightlifting, and stress management all relied upon excellent diaphragm control. Whole chapters in general health books were dedicated to respiration control as a remedy to a host of physiological issues.
It was this knowledge that Jaune drew upon to deal with an unpleasantness in his stomach. As the garage elevator ascended, he felt on the verge of losing his lunch. His grip on Melodic Cudgel fluctuated with each intake of warm air through his fleece mouth covering.
Breath in. Hold. Breath out. Breath in-
The lift opened. Every ounce of oxygen was pulled prematurely from his lungs. Goosebumps emerged all along his body in fear of combat.
No masked terrorists awaited them on the other end. Jaune was not sure why he was convinced there would be. They were purposefully getting off at the floor directly underneath their destination to avoid an early confrontation.
Stepping off, Neo pressed up against the exterior wall. Jaune parroted her movements. Together they inched toward the upward ramp. White Fang members loitered around the top of the slope. The faunus were similarly trying to stay hidden while watching the entrance.
"You're up." Roman whispered to Neo.
There was nothing she did overtly that signaled her Semblance's activation. No waving of hands or eerie shine. It was everything around them that changed. The very air shimmered as they were encased in a distorted bubble.
The bubble's boundary extended out about a car's length. The curvature of the dome was just tall enough to clear Jaune's head. Slivers of light, like fractures in the expanse of reality, swirled about in an exciting manner.
Temporarily forgetting his discomfort, he watched on in awe. It was beautiful. Roman had to interrupt his revelry.
"Stick to her. If you fall behind, you will be seen."
To his point, Neo had already begun to move. Jaune nearly tripped over himself to follow. He had no time to object before they were out in the open.
The faunus were looking right at them. Or through them. No effort was made to stop the two humans. The three swiftly moved on up to the seventh floor.
Just as the photos had indicated, the area was overrun with masked individuals. Most of them were concentrated in the northern portion of the garage. A circle of six cars surrounded a van. People moved about while carrying crates.
A convertible's trunk slammed shut. Afterward, the vehicle began to move. It drove right by Neo's illusion, narrowly missing them. They continued on to cover. Once safely crouched behind a pillar, the dome cracked apart.
Roman spoke. "We're in. Now for the tricky part. Everyone clear on their assignments? Any last minute questions?"
They had discussed this prior to entering. Jaune was to free the hostage — a police officer, Roman thought — while Neo prepared their escape path. Said preparations consisted of slashing tires, picking off those who strayed from the pack, and generally sabotaging the Fang.
When the time came, Neo would cause a huge distraction. What that would be, exactly, they had not decided. Maybe a small fire or some other noisy incident. In the confusion they would regroup and slip out to call the authorities.
In many ways, this was similar to how they dealt with the High Fly Flows. Except, of course, the Fang were not a bunch of drug pushers. And there were a lot more of them. Not to mention they were definitely better organized.
So, nothing like the Flows at all.
The gurgling in Jaune's abdomen returned. He tried to concentrate on other matters. There was one part they had not discussed.
"What do we do if we are spotted before everything is ready?"
"We'll improvise."
"Right…"
"Don't be like that. Not everything you do will go to plan. Whether that's taking a score, being a huntsman, or gardening. You need to know how to adjust on the fly."
That made sense, although Jaune was puzzled at a provided example. "Gardening?"
"Yeah. Flowering plants are finicky little things."
The idea of Roman with a small trowel fretting over a bed of poinsettias unexpectedly had the teen grinning. His smile dissolved as he looked back at Neo. She was decidedly less animated.
Something was off. Her hand was pressed firm to the pillar as she hunched over. The other massaged her forehead. She also seemed paler than usual.
"Are you alright?" Upon being noticed, Neo straightened up. "It's fine if you are tired. We can take a few to rest up."
She glared at him. Before he could clarify, she pushed off the column. In a wink she was gone, having wrapped herself in her Semblance again. Jaune let out a sigh.
He could have handled that better. Roman agreed.
"Free bit of advice; Don't pester people with questions on if they are 'OK.' It's off putting."
"I'm just trying to help."
"I know that. Thing is, Neo doesn't. She takes that as you pitying her."
There was no pity intended. At least, he did not see it that way. Admittedly, he had not known Neo as long as Roman. Maybe Jaune was imagining a problem that did not exist.
Pushing that aside, he focused on upholding his end of the bargain. Quick observations indicated that the White Fang members were absorbed with their individual jobs. There were no guards internally. They had assumed that the front patrol would suffice.
To be fair, that was a reasonable assessment. Accounting for an invisible invader would have been a sign of paranoia. This oversight allowed Jaune to move freely about from column to column.
He stuck to the perimeter while occasionally glancing around. There was no sign of the captive. The spot from the picture was empty.
"They moved him!" He hissed.
"Easy sport. There aren't a lot of places up here to stash someone. Keep at it."
And so, they did. Skirting around, Jaune kept their eyes peeled. There was nothing. He began to fear that the cop had been inside the car that had driven past them earlier. That would place him out of their grasp.
Jaune was ready to pull out and wait for a pickup when he caught a break. As another car tried to drive off, there was a loud pop. A tire had blown out.
The noise caused several White Fang members to rise up in alarm. One of them was the mouse faunus from the photo. The lady terrorist had been partially obscured by the van. Sure enough, the hostage was at her feet.
Good news was they had located him. Bad news was they were in the middle of the activities. Staging a rescue would be difficult. There was only one guard. However, their proximity to the others limited what could be done.
"Get as close as you can and wait for an opportunity to pick her off."
Roman said this so flippantly. As if Jaune knew how to 'pick people off.' This was not a stealth game! He was the wrong person for this job. Still, he inched along to another beam to safely observe.
Whatever this opportunity was that Roman said would occur, Jaune was not seeing it. Within a few minutes, they had finished packing. Their mechanics now attended to the damaged tire. The others were pleasantly chatting or strapping into the undamaged cars to prepare to leave.
"They're going to get away."
"Wait for it."
And then 'it' occurred. There was a cry of alarm. Everyone turned to where the shout had come from.
On the opposite end of the floor, a White Fang member fell with great force onto a car hood. Astride them, leaving dents on either side of their head, was Neo. The stunned fellow got a short peek up her legs before getting clobbered with a falling knee.
There was silence as everyone processed her arrival. Then a roar. Those who had been at a comfortable peace transitioned to rage. Earlier work was tossed aside for a singular violent goal.
Knives, batons, clubs, and other bludgeoning objects were brandished. They all aimed to make mincemeat of her. The first to try brought a sledgehammer. He was on the upswing when she pounced.
Neo front flipped over them. Flying forward, she took down two more with a split kick before landing in a crouch. She then turned and swept the leg of the hammer wielder. His hefty implement soared out of his hands, punching another in the gut.
"Is this the distraction she was going to set up?" Jaune asked Roman.
"Doubtful. She must've gotten caught and decided to blitz them."
And what a blitz it was. She was a hurricane of punches, kicks, and slashes. Her blade effortlessly cut through armor and weapons as she danced around them.
Upon some self-reflection, Jaune understood a horrible truth. Neo had been taking it easy on him during their training. He was one part annoyed and three parts terrified. The gulf between them was vast.
A growing number of dropped and dazed fighters around Neo attested to her prowess. Momentum was on her side. For a while, she seemed set to beat them all.
Then a juggernaut of a man joined the fray. A shoulder check from this black-haired White Fanger set her off balance. Her retaliatory strike pinged off his body. Off his Aura.
This intervention allowed some of the fallen to regain their footing. The big man shouted orders, demonstrating a grasp of tactics the others lacked. They circled around to limit her movements.
"At this rate, they'll overwhelm her in sheer numbers." Roman said as a matter of fact. "We need to take the pressure off."
"How! What can I-"
As Jaune spoke, his eyes rested on a sedan in the back of the swarm. Someone had left a door ajar when they had dashed out to confront Neo. Several crates were visible in the back. Crates filled with highly volatile Dust. An idea sprung in his mind. A very dumb idea.
Melodic Cudgel at hand, he pointed the cane at the opening before pulling the trigger. The kickback sent a painful lance through his arm. A glowing ball flew through the air.
It skidded along the ground, not even touching the car.
"Higher! You need to account for gravity!" Notably, Roman did not discourage the attempt.
So, Jaune tried again. This time, the shell flew over the roof. Too high.
A man with a fox tail had noticed and traced where the second round had come from. He was now pointing to get everyone else's attention. When that failed, the criminal took off in a run to handle the intruder himself.
The teen clamped down on his internal panic. This meant ignoring everything, even the thief's pleas to hurry. Jaune used both hands to steady the barrel before breathing in. Aiming between his last two shots, he breathed out.
Then, he fired.
Third time was the charm. The ball of heat landed right in the cabin. Fire rapidly spread as thick smoke rolled out from under the canvas top.
Just as the White Fang member reached him, the flames hit the Dust. A blinding explosion rocked the garage. Jaune was able to keep upright because of the pillar. The exposed portions of his face felt tender, like they were sunburned, but otherwise he was okay.
Nearly everyone else was sent for a loop. Those in his line of sight were either clutching their extra ears or rubbing their eyes. The circulating black haze sent many others into a coughing fit.
A similar story had played out around Neo. Her opponents were rattled by the boom and resulting smog. Even their heavy had backed off.
"Eyes front!"
Roman's warning had him swivel back. The vulpine was stirring after being knocked over. Tears in his eyes, he had just managed to get to his knees when Jaune struck. Both hands still on the cane, the huntsman-to-be swung with all his might.
The shaft smacked the faunus flush in the jaw. This brutal hit set him down again. Rather than try again, he assumed the fetal position.
"Nice one."
"Thanks." Jaune ran his sleeved arm across his forehead. "Glad to see those three years of Tee-ball were not a total waste."
"Tee-ball?"
"Kind of like baseball, except-"
"No pitching, the ball is set on a tee." The thief snorted. "Criminy. How is it that every time you almost impress me, you cancel that out with a goofy explanation?"
Before the Arc could explain how Tee-ball was more complicated than it may have seemed to the uninitiated, there was another pop. This one was different from the tire. There was more reverb. Almost like a firework going off.
"Gun!"
Jaune flattened against the pillar. He was not sure if his Aura reflexes were good enough to block a bullet. Discovering that could wait for another day.
After a moment, he lifted his head in confusion. There was only one burst and nothing else. It did not seem like anyone was firing on him or Neo. In fact, the sound had been generated further away from them.
When he found the source, a coldness took over. "No…"
Collapsed in a heap was the hostage. The mousy guard stood over him with a smoking pistol. Her mouth was agape in shock and horror.
"Fall back! Everyone fall back!" Someone yelled while coughing.
She dropped the firearm and ran toward the voice. Jaune stared for what felt like an eternity. At some point, he ended up at the abandoned body. The seconds between being far away and close up were deleted from his memory.
Crimson particles lingered in the air. So did the smell from the discharge. Wine-colored streams ran along the floor beside the captive's head.
A revving engine broke Jaune out of his dazed state. Through the smoke, he watched as the extremist leader stepped into the back of the van. It drove away in a hurry as another car brought up the rear. They soon turned a corner to go out of sight.
Neo, who had been snaking her way over to them, saw the convoy depart. Her eyes turned to Jaune, questioning. He was incapable of forming a coherent sentence. Roman did so for him.
"Go! After them!"
She took off in a full sprint towards the ramp. The White Fang stragglers departed on foot. A few stopped to pick up their comrades. None paid attention to the humans in their midst, much more concerned with escaping the inferno.
"We need to get out of here."
"Hold on." Jaune pleaded while gingerly turning the man over.
"Look, sometimes things don't work out. You tried your best, but this guy was dead the moment he got caught. We need to catch up to Neo."
"Hold on!"
The wound was nasty. A sizable gouge ran along the side of the officer's head. Blood oozed freely down the scalp. The top of his right ear was completely missing. Most distressingly, a bit of skull was visible.
However, the bullet had not made a direct headshot. He was still breathing. There might still be a chance.
Searching through his jacket, Jaune found an unused handkerchief. Not sterile, but the cleanest cloth he was going to find. It would have to do. He also took out the role of Duct tape and ripped off a few strips.
"What are you doing?"
"Improvising."
Jaune folded up and pressed the cloth to the injury, covering as much as he could. The material greedily soaked up the liquid. He then applied tape along the edges to guarantee everything would stay put.
Once the makeshift bandage was in place, Jaune lifted the man into his arms. He tried his best to stabilize the head before running for the elevator. The explosion had not affected its functionality.
Waiting to reach the ground floor while listening to a cheery elevator tune grated on his nerves. Lugging around a limp body reminded Jaune of his first day in Vale. He could not stand for another repeat. When the lift opened, he raced out.
"So, what now? Planning to run all the way to the hospital?"
"If I have to." He panted.
"Come on! Think! What are they going to do when you show up at the ER with a half-dead cop?"
Detain him. Bar him from attending Beacon. Call his parents. While each of those outcomes terrified him, Jaune could not just let someone die.
"Give me an alternative!"
Down by the garage entrance booth, things had taken a turn for the chaotic. The gate had been smashed to smithereens. An attendant was clearing away wooden pieces.
"There! How about that?" The thief exclaimed.
A sports car had stopped to rubberneck. Two-seats and cherry red, it certainly looked fast. Enough so to have Jaune make a beeline for the coupe.
"Hey! You!"
The owner, a bro with a mullet in a torn jean jacket, blinked as the disguised teen approached. "Wait, you're-"
"Performing a public service, just like you." As Roman spoke, Jaune had opened the passenger's side door. "Congrats, homie. Your 'whip' has been commandeered."
"Wha-"
"You are an ambulance now. Or a taxi. Take your pick. Either way, get this bloke to a hospital before he bleeds out all over your plush leather interior."
The cop was set inside. An over the shoulder seat belt was used to strap him down. After closing the door, the driver continued to stare at him, as if expecting this was a prank.
"Hospital! Now!" Jaune demanded.
The car peeled out during the shift from neutral to drive. The acceleration was impressive. Screeches accompanied an abrupt left turn glide onto the main street. Hopefully, they were going in the right direction.
"Was that Detective Shoat?"
This question came from the attendant, who had heard the racket. The older man was nervous, almost jumping back when Jaune turned to him. His need to know what was happening overrode his fear of a famous criminal.
"Did you know him?"
"We met this morning. He was looking for a van. The same one that made this mess." He gestured to the smashed booth.
"It came through here?"
"Sped right on through with a friend."
"Which way?"
"Towards the turnpike."
"Neo has got to be with them." Roman mumbled before taking over the verbal conversation. "Your job came with transportation of some kind, right?"
"They issued me a buggy to get around. Walking up and down the garage is bad for my-"
"I'm borrowing it."
"O-okay." Not questioning why, he held out an orange keychain with trembling hands. "It's parked behind the signage."
Jaune took the ignition turner. Roman was already flying away to locate their newest transport. There was not any time to lose. They had a convoy to catch.
/ / /
As Neopolitan clung to the side of a van rocketing at top speed, a delirious grin planted itself on her face. This was more like it. This was what she lived for.
Skulking about was enjoyable, but she preferred more 'dagger' in her 'cloak-and-dagger' escapades. Even if her Semblance failing had been an accident, the resulting battle was well worth the slip up. Ultraviolence was always in style.
To that end, she shimmied her way to the top of the transport. High winds had her ducked low. She had to spit a few times to remove the bugs that flew into her mouth.
They were currently driving South along the Lumiere Freeway. The multi-lane road was the express track to the industrial sector. Her new playmates hoped to dodge their pursuers by blending in with the scenery.
Several autos blew their horns as the van snaked through traffic. A more consistent honking was coming from a tan four-seater behind them. The companion car had seen her and was trying to warn their compatriots.
This persistence bugged Neo. Her one regret from going loud early was that not all of the vehicles had been disabled. Even after all the sabotage and Roman's explosion, one had been missed.
Still, they were nothing more than a gnat. Their warnings went unheeded. She mocked their powerlessness with a silent laugh.
Hubris was rewarded with wild screeching beneath her belly.
She rolled as a square was cut through the hard top. With a push upward, the now free metal sheet flew into the air, nearly striking a passing motorist. From the hole emerged the heavy weight of this White Fang contingent.
As he crawled out, she sighted what caused the new sunroof. A long chainsaw vibrated in his hands. Her body thrummed with curiosity as she disassembled Hush. She wanted to know if he knew how to use such a substantial tool. Size was not everything, after all.
They traded screw faces. That was all the pending combatants could do. The air drag kept either from attacking. On cue, the van slowed to a more manageable speed. Thus, they could begin the engagement.
Neo, being smaller, was the first up. She slashed at his chest. He batted that away and brought the rotating saw down to cut her in half.
With a sidestep, she delivered several loaded punches to his torso. There was a wince with each bruising blow. As he brought his weapon around again, she repeated the maneuver on the other side.
Frustrated, he ran the teeth along the van top. A shower of sparks filled Neo's vision. Temporarily blinded, she backed away. Her instincts saved her from a horizontal sweep.
Ceding ground while the spots cleared away brought her to the edge of the moving platform. As the chainsaw wielder prowled, she tensed her legs. On his next pass, she would slip around to reposition. Maybe push him off if he overcommitted.
What she did not account for was another deciding to join in. Sudden pressure on her ankle announced their presence. One of the double-back doors had been opened. An enterprising fool had snaked their hand up to grip her foot.
"I got them! I got-gah!"
Bones crunched as she stepped on the fingers. Despite the pain, the interloper held on a few moments longer. When they finally let go, the distraction had served its purpose. Neo looked up to see the huge man going for a big spike on her small head.
Pushed into a corner, she deployed her parasol. Despite the trappings, the frilly shield was designed to hold firm on contact. It did so.
The same could not be said of Neo. Her right knee buckled. Aura kept her from falling further, though she could feel the energy drain away as the chain ran along the reinforced canopy.
In a worrisome sign, the parasol's runner creaked. It was not made to take sustained damage. If that failed, the whole protective arch would collapse. Sensing weakness, her opponent used leverage from the height differential to press down.
To avoid the worst, she ever so slightly angled the clash to the side. Off kilter, he plunged the saw blade straight through the roof. A wail from below indicated someone got a nasty surprise from this sudden penetration.
He tried pulling out. She did not let him off easily.
Taking hold of a burly arm, she pulled him to the brink. Under normal circumstances, he could have overpowered her. With his attention split, he could offer only paltry resistance. When she jumped overboard, her weight dragged him down.
Luckily for him, this was not enough to turn him into roadkill. Only his appendage was taken over the side. Unluckily, he was at her mercy as she used his arm as a swing into the cargo hold. The awkward angle caused an audible separation in his shoulder. He roared in pain.
Landing in the van revealed a pair of White Fang grunts. The first nursed a broken hand. The second had a gash along their collar bone.
Both were casualties of the fight above. Both were surprised by her appearance. Both went down with a roundhouse kick.
They tumbled over each other and went still. Less a demonstration of her overwhelming strength than a weakness in their resolve. Outside their numbers advantage, the whole lot of them were underwhelming.
She took quick stock of her surroundings. Except for the boxes of merchandise, she was all alone. That left three to deal with. Two drivers and the one on the roof.
Chainsaw guy was tough. He could have been a challenge in the right circumstances. But, with only one good arm, he would be child's play at this point.
The trouble would be in bringing the van to a stop. Whoever was operating the vehicle could be the type to intentionally cause a crash. Such a suicidal gesture would seek to take her with them. Fanatics could be crazy like that.
Preparing her knife for a quick takedown, she advanced on the cabin. There was bound to be a way in from the storage area. If not, she would make one.
As she went deeper inside, there was movement in the shadows. Neo managed to catch another blade on her own as it went for her face. She had to drop back when a dagger came for her ribs.
Her next adversary was female. Blue hair and gray hands. Neo raised an eyebrow, wondering what type of faunus had those traits.
"Who are you? Why have you attacked us? Are you a huntress?"
Neopolitan snorted. The guess was so far off-base that it was humorous. Then again, this was an understandable mistake. She had picked a fight with a bunch of terrorists for what must have seemed like no reason at all.
With no response forthcoming, the parlay ended. "I suppose it matters little."
The azure lady zoomed forward. Lean and lithe, she proved much more capable of keeping up with Neo. Multiple exchanges proved inconclusive. Neither could score a decent hit on the other.
She also had a better understanding of subterfuge. Each time Neo tried to turn the odds in her favor with an underhanded move, she found herself countered. The lack of space also prevented her from trying to change the terms of the fight.
It was with some shame that Neo yielded ground. Wave after wave of fodder had worn her out. Now she was getting flush while her foe was fresh as a daisy.
Eventually she was pushed all the way to the still shut door. Having some solid backing did provide an opportunity. When the dual knife wielder thrusted, Neo leaned to the side. The blades dinged off the hatch. In return, she stabbed her enemy's thigh.
Now the blue-hair was on the backfoot. Before a follow-up could occur, she did something unique. A rope like projectile was flung out from seemingly nowhere, striking Neo in the chest. The silk-like substance coated her and attached to the wall.
Glued to the spot, she was unable to prevent the now revealed spider faunus from drop-kicking Neo. The force blew the door wide open. Back in the bright sunlight, her body now dangled over the moving conveyor-belt like road.
The trailing car accelerated to catch up. Its driver rolled down the window to hurl insults. 'Human scum' this and 'White Fang Forever' that. More threatening was their attempts at ramming the flapping door to crush her.
Lacking options, Neo took aim with the only object beside her blade she had on hand. She tossed her parasol like a dart. The sharp ferrule went right through the windshield. On impact, the sails unfolded over the glass.
There was a scream. Then a panicked swerve. The car drove directly into a highway median, coming to a wicked stop.
Neo was not given any time to enjoy this small victory. The giant from before had reentered the van. His right arm swung uselessly out of socket. His left still held his chainsaw, looking for revenge. Misericorde at the ready, she prepared to fend him off.
Instead of trying for her, the saw raked the door hinge. There was a hiss as the hydraulics were severed. She wondered if he had missed before figuring out his play.
The entire door was ejected from the chassis, her along with it. Falling, she just managed to shift the panel underneath her form to serve as a buffer. The scrap sled bounced up and down the road before spinning to a stop.
Dizzy, she took her knife to the substance binding her down. The goop was tough, but she was able to slice through enough strands to pull free. Stubbornly, the stuff stuck to her clothing. She sure hoped it would wash out.
If not, there would be grave consequences. This was her favorite outfit.
Picking herself up, Neo saw that the van had gained speed. She glanced around for a way to catch-up and was left wanting. No other cars were around. Their conflict had scared the other drivers off.
Back up the road, the van was a vanishing dot on the horizon. The White Fang had eluded her. She let out a huff before kicking the excised hatch. Turning around, she jogged back the way they had come.
After a few minutes, she found the crashed car. Hush's other half was still embedded in the crumbled front. Drops of blood trailed from the open driver's side to the median. A scuff of red signaled they had jumped over to hide in the concrete jungle.
Neo briefly considered tracking the runner. This idea was just as soon discarded. Trailing a no-nothing was unlikely to be worth the effort.
She instead pulled her weapon component free from the glass. The shield did not look terrible, but the stretchers would not retract. Forcing the mechanism shut caused something to snap. Her right eye twitched at the expensive sound.
Faraway sirens suggested a massive police mobilization. Retrieving her Scroll, Neo checked the two-way homing application. Roman's device was moving towards her for the pick-up.
On a whim, and with nothing better to do while waiting, she checked the rest of the car. In the back seat, there were two Dust crates. Determined to salvage the situation, she pulled the boxes out to stack on the road.
As she finished setting the salvage down, the whirling of an electric motor caught her ear. What appeared to be a souped-up golf cart came to a stuttering stop beside her. At the wheel was the fake redhead.
"Are you-" Jaune stopped before pivoting to something equally unnecessary. "Uh, I mean, I take it they got away?"
She gave the doofus a withering glare before Roman spoke. "Save the in-fighting for later, boys and girls. We're not clear yet."
Nodding, she hefted the boxes onto the cart. Despite the vehicle's unimpressive frame, it was fit enough to carry the heavy load. Jaune was about to ask a dumb question as she climbed in beside him. Probably about the crates.
He wisely focused on their getaway. The machine lurched forward as his inexperienced foot pressed unevenly on the accelerator. It then vibrated as they went off road to avoid being tracked.
Leaning back, Neo closed her eyes. She was thoroughly done with this day. Sherbet sucked, her head hurt, and she had been bested by a bunch of amateurs. All she wanted now was to run a warm bath to soak away her troubles.
Then she remembered the shack did not have running water.
Neopolitan let out a silent scream before punching the space beside her. Fist met bony shoulder. Her varlet let out an undignified yelp.
Author Notes: Golly, this took a while. Sorry about that. This was the first extended fight scene I have written, and I kept getting distracted by the small details. I also did not want to end on another cliff-hanger, so I powered through to a resolution rather than split the chapter in half. Hope it was worth the wait!