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Crimewave

Chapter IV

Jaune had heard, from stories both read and witnessed throughout his youth, that the first breath of a free man was meant to be remarkable. It would refresh him, renew his vigor and offer a new perspective. Perhaps he would even drop to the ground and wax poetic on the nature of life itself.

But to Jaune, the brisk yet humid caress of a mid-spring Valean night brought no such comforts. Indeed, Jaune met his newfound freedom with naught but a chest of heart palpitations and a head clouded with intense anxiety as he stepped out of the Valean Metropolitan Police Headquarters and into its conjoined five-story parking garage. He attempted to wipe his sweaty palms on the black trousers of his stolen suit but cursed as his leather gloves prevented it. His sickly skin was saturated with the stuff, causing the material to stick uncomfortably to his body. His equally matted hair had fallen in loose strands across his eyes beneath the mask Neo had loaned him, partially impairing his vision and causing prickly itchy sensations to scuttle across his forehead.

The dull crunch of a glass jar being crushed between two pillows triggered a brief bout of panic within Jaune before he registered the presence of his pint-sized accomplice beside him. She stalked through garage, beckoning Jaune forward with a silent gesture. Behind them, the dull blare of the fire alarm they had triggered bled through the concrete walls.

After a few quick breaths to replenish his flagging resolve, he followed behind her in a half crouch, doing his best to mitigate the ache in his back and the weight of his footsteps at the same time. They wound their way through the fleet of copy and pasted sedans and SUVs with Neo pausing periodically to check the license plates of certain vehicles. Eventually, as Jaune's nerves began to fray and the panic grew in his chest unbearable, the woman paused at an unremarkable sedan and knocked three times on the back window.

"What are you-" The locks on the vehicle made a weighty click and Neo opened the back door, offering Jaune a masked look over her shoulder as she climbed in that Jaune could nearly taste.

Choosing to forego everything his mother had taught him about getting into random cars with strangers, Jaune sidled in after Neo. An unremarkable suited man sat in the driver's seat. He made no reaction to the two masked strangers that had just sat in his back seat, only staring straight forward with almost robotic resolve. Neo drew a flat white card with writing Jaune couldn't make out from inside her jacket and offered it to the man who took one glance at it and then put the car into gear.

Jaune ignored the half-smirk Neo gave him as she sat back into the plush leather seats and took off her mask. Every instinct Jaune had screamed at him that something was about to give since they left that pile of smoldering documents in the office. With bated breath, Jaune white-knuckled his pant legs as their car pulled slowly out of it's parking spot and trundled through the thin alley left between the parked vehicles. His blue eyes traced every shadow, every gap a person could feasibly fit themselves into, but he saw no one. Even as the suspension jostled over the speedbumps defending the entrance, there was nary a soul present beside their lone vehicle.

Heeled boots came to rest on his lap, breaking Jaune's neurotic concentration. He glared at Neo, who lounged with her back to the car door, giggling silently into her hand.

"What?" Jaune asked through lightly gritted teeth. Neo may have been a physically attractive woman but the clear criminal insanity and brutal murder of two men he had witnessed her commit killed any appreciation Jaune had for her attention. In fact, as the adrenaline-induced tunnel vision began to subside, merely being under her knife-like gaze caused the skin on his arms to prickle.

With a wolf's grin, she cupped the back of her ears and wiggled them. It took him a few seconds but Jaune deduced the meaning to be him being 'wet behind the ears.'

"Yeah, well, I happen to think being uncomfortable with this kind of thing is good - it means I haven't gone totally insane," Jaune, taking Neo's amiability as a signal they are in the clear, pulled his own mask over his soiled blonde hair. The cool air on his agitated skin felt heavenly. "Besides, shouldn't we be more... cautious?" He said with a glance to their stoic driver.

Neo shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'eh' then rubbed her index and middle finger against her thumb and made a zipping motion across her mouth.

"You paid him off?" She nodded.

Jaune sighed and let his aching muscles relax into the soft leather of his seat. "Oum, is there nothing you can't buy with Lien in this city?"

Neo offered another silent chuckle and winked.

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Jaune couldn't get the final dregs of tension to slip from his shoulders as they stalked the dead streets of Vale. Even though leagues of distance had been put between them and the scene of their crime, every passing vehicle seemed to resemble a VPD squad car packed with heavily armed cops ready to take him back to that box until the moment it's headlights drifted past, revealing it to be just another bland family sedan.

He quashed the urge to sigh, he refused to give Neo the satisfaction.

Still, despite the existential terror, trauma, and compounding stress of his fledgling criminal career threatening to consume him, Jaune found an unnatural beauty in the city around him. To see a place so smushed in on itself during the day devoid of life under the glow of street lights was nearly otherworldly.

Soon the uniform concrete structures and well-maintained facades of Central Vale gave way to the asphalt ley lines of the Valean highway network that splayed over the city's rooftops and snaked between clusters of commercial skyscrapers. Millions of people used these roads under the daylight but tonight? It seemed the three were the only ones alive.

Jaune quietly found that to be exhilarating.

They drifted southwest. As the shadows of the towering fortress walls that penned in the city crested the horizon, they exited the highway and descended back into urban claustrophobia. This time, instead of perfectly manicured storefronts and sleek, minimalist architecture, ancient brickwork and soiled streets stretched on from every intersection. It seemed this section of the city was not as dead, with the odd pedestrian still treading the cracked sidewalks.

In the country, the image of Vale is one of a pristine verdant jewel that is the pinnacle of modernity. The place anyone with dreams and some grit between their teeth can travel to and have a real shot at making it. It was the place where dreams came true, and to Jaune – who saw only of the city what a Huntsmen in training of Beacon Academy did – that was the truth.

But as they continued, ominous signs of desolation became blatant images of decay. Buildings turned to dilapidated husks, the first-floor windows sprouted cages or wooden barriers, and the odd pedestrian became a vacant-eyed ghoul shambling.

"Oum…" Jaune said under his breath. Even the shoddiest hovel back in Ansel was the King's palace compared… to this.

But… it would be, wouldn't it? Ansel was a well-protected farming community in one of the wealthiest regions in Vale. The gross income of his family alone was probably enough to buy three blocks of this neighborhood, and they were considered middling. Vale itself looks to have abandoned this place.

It was like seeing the city for the first time. Only, instead of seeing it from an airship as a respected Huntsmen in Training from a notable family, he was looking up from the gutter. Like discarded trash. As they passed a cluster of makeshift tents constructed with tarps and cardboard, their inhabitants huddled around a barrel fire, Jaune wondered what stories they could tell.

Distressed masses of residential buildings finally gave way to what looked like a dormant industrial park turned seedy entertainment district. Large factories and warehouses displayed neon signs and thrummed with the faint cheer of a night ending. The last dregs of partygoers stumbled along the sidewalks and into strategically placed motels in converted textile mills.

Their driver pulled the sedan into a service alley that bisected a block of old warehouses. It reeked of rotting trash and bodily fluids Jaune didn't have the heart to name. A glass bottle crunched beneath the wheel as they came to stop behind a squat office building conjoined to a large hangar-like warehouse that faced the street. A single rusted steel door illuminated by a flickering yellow lightbulb seemed to beckon them.

Jaune looked to Neo but any words died on his lips as he noticed the woman's usually peppy features drawn into a light scowl. It was gone almost immediately, however, as that trademarked predator's smirk quickly slid past across her lips.

Opening the door with her free hand, she tumbled out onto the street and shattered like a dropped vase. Faster than Jaune could process, she opened his door with an exaggerated bow and outstretched hand. Like a chauffeur to her employer.

Jaune glanced at the hand – sword slick with blood, vacant milky eyes – and slipped past her. He pointedly ignored the pout she sent him before dismissing their vehicle with a quick two-fingered salute.

"So…" Jaune began, suddenly feeling very exposed in this dark secluded alley with a vicious murderer. He gestured to the door as the sedan disappeared around a shadowed corner. "This the place? … Whatever 'place' even is."

The same quiet discontent descended over Neo as she approached the door Jaune stood beside. The shorter woman rapped three times in quick succession before dragging a ring on her index finger down its surface slowly eliciting a whisper of metallic friction.

Jaune suppressed a masculine yelp as her hand gripped him by the bicep and yanked him away from the door. It seemed that with every second they spent in strained silence her terrifying grip tightened.

Finally – mercifully before his aura broke – the door swung open with a groan to reveal a striking young woman.

She was amongst the most beautiful people Jaune had ever seen. Which, given whom he was exposed to back at Beacon, was nothing minor. She was half a head shorter than him – still a good foot and a half taller than Neo – and had a gorgeous blend of Valean and Eastern Mistralian features. Long well-kept raven hair spilled down her back to around waist height and she stared down her nose at them with piercing green eyes. Even standing there in a few sizes too large grey hoodie and sweat pants she gave off the same gracefully domineering aura that Weiss did.

Almost instantly a mirrored expression to Neo's crossed the woman's face as her gaze zeroed in on the multi-colored killer. Then again, with the limited sample size of Barkeep's allies he had been exposed to, there was a large chance this woman had put her fair share of bodies beneath the floorboards too.

The discomfort of such thoughts mixed well with the heavy atmosphere that had descended upon them.

"Oh. It's you." She said in a bratty drawl. Not unlike what Jaune imagined Weiss would sound as a preppy girl in a Valean high school. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight across her hips. "I thought I smelled a skank."

Somehow, Neo's scowl deepened. Jaune could swear he heard the high-pitched whine of steam coming from her ears as she shoved him forward.

Jaune – gracefully – caught himself and stiffened under the woman's appraising gaze. The dim alley light glinted off her irises. They were appraising but in a completely different way than his unwanted guardian. Neo's were predatory. Like she was peeling back his skin with each look. This woman observed him with the eyes of someone used to false appearances. She was dangerous, just in a subtler way. It made Jaune shiver.

"I guess you're the mark," She said as Jaune smiled stiffly. A beat of tense silence passed before she blew a short puff of air and fished into her hoodie pocket. "Def not worth it. Old bastard owes me for this…" Jaune cringed slightly at the blow to his already flagging pride but kept the sense to stay still and compliant.

The green-eyed woman produced a palm-sized brass disk from her pocket. "With the Mother Chains… and some rando as witness," She began, opening the flat lid with a mechanical click. "I, Melanie Malachite hereby absolve one Trivia Van-" Neo stomped her heel "-Sorry, Neopolitan Torchwick of her blood debt." She pressed her thumb to the flat plane of the device and winced. "Damn…"

Clicking the device closed Melanie tossed it to Neo and licked away the blood that had begun to bubble up on the tip of her thumb. "May her Providence light your path or whatever."

Neo, seemingly satisfied, pointedly ignored Melanie in favor of taking Jaune's hand and giving an exaggerated curtsey. Two brown eyes peered up at him through her bangs, winked, then vanished into a spray of glass leaving Jaune alone in a part of the city he had never been with a stranger who was anything but a good Samaritan.

Melanie held the door open with her heel and stepped aside, beckoning Jaune further in with a flat look on her siren's face.

Not for the first time tonight, Jaune wondered if this was really worth it.

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What awaited was not the torture chamber/drug den/warm embrace of his dorm bed after a terrible nightmare that he expected, but the quiet indifference of an after-hours nightclub.

Melanie led him out from the back room into the main chamber in silence. Though he tried not to show it, Jaune was mildly stunned by the myriad of dormant light fixtures and grandiose monochromatic styling. Who would've thought when this warehouse was constructed back in the heyday of Pre-War Valean industry that one day it's bones would be fashioned into a techno-future nightclub?

Jaune followed Melanie up the wrought iron scaffold steps to the left of a huge bar at least 3/4ths the length of the already massive dance floor. Above, steel gantries and catwalks allowed access to what Jaune could only describe as VIP cages – large circular grate platforms shrouded in velvet curtains and suspended from the ceiling. Below was a sheer 30 foot drop to the dance floor.

Jaune blew a quiet breath. Style before safety he guessed.

Their footsteps echoed loudly across the steel as they approached the east wall of the building and entered a conjoined apartment complex. The silence became oppressive as Melanie sifted through a bloated keychain before one of the doors in the hallway. Should he be doing something? Saying something? Was he even meant to be following her? Jaune caught a wayward whiff of copper and internally panicked.

Oum he was still drenched in the blood of a dead man and wearing his suit. Did she notice? If so she hasn't shown it. Wait how would Jaune even know, she was probably a professional killer too! Oh fuck, she was a professional killer too. Is a pretty face all it took to disarm him? Really? He was a hunted man now, he had to be more vigilant. Anyone could be a threat to him. Starting now he has to keep his guard up at all times. No one would get the drop on him again, no way!

"You uh… good there sparky?"

Jaune blinked. Melanie stood in the open doorway with a quirked eyebrow.

Jaune coughed and tried not to blush. "Y-yeah, I'm great - good - fine even…" Nailed it.

After a few agonizing seconds, Melanie's lips twitched slightly but remained flat. The subtle venom that pooled in the cradle of her irises was joined by a glint of curiosity. "Huh. Aren't you adorable." She said evenly.

Before Jaune could even begin to unpack what that meant, Melanie turned and kicked her furry slippers into a colorful pile of exotic footwear next to the doorway. "Come on. It's late and I'm sure neither of us wants this to last longer than it has to." She said padding into the living room.

A little off-put, Jaune unsurely placed his stolen dress shoes neatly next to the pile of footwear and followed Melanie into the apartment. It was... nice. There was room enough for three people to live comfortably with a modern-looking kitchen divided from a cozy living room by a floating island. The vibe was somewhere between a college dorm and mafia Donna safehouse with expensive-looking artsy furniture decorated with the refuse of daily living.

Melanie returned from a parallel hallway that held a row of doors with an armful of fabric which she promptly tossed at him. "Showers in there," She dipped her head to one of the doors, "It's up to you but I'd dump the outfit. Besides being a travesty its uh…" She cocked her head and looked him up and down, those green eyes ripping away any security he may have been doggedly clinging to. "… a little soiled."

Mortified, Jaune nodded dumbly and shuffled past her. Careful to make sure she never left his sight until the white wood of the bathroom door separated them. Melanie, for her part, stood her ground with a cocked hip and amused gaze as if answering his silent question of 'ohmygodareyougonnakillme' with 'you're not my type, pipsqueak'.

As the door clicked shut Jaune let out a long, exhausted breath and rested his forehead against the wood. Moving mechanically, Jaune peeled the black suit off of his body, doing his best to ignore how the collar felt like a soggy towel dragged across his skin.

A large three-panel mirror framed the sink reflecting almost everything in the small room. Jaune's breath caught as he glimpsed the figure looking back at him. He was tall. Thick functional looking muscle wrapped tightly around a broad frame. His disheveled blonde hair fell loosely over the one shadowed eye that gave him a sidelong glance. It was bright, accusing, and gleeful. Fresh blood flowed through the cliffs and gorges of his torso and Jaune knew beneath that shadow was a shark-toothed smile.

Jaune swallowed thickly and entered the shower. The hot water carved away thick chunks of anxiety and stress that coated him like a blanket, but embers deep within still remained.

Through cracked eyes he watched peach water swirl the drain. Two men had died tonight. Real people who breathed and bled. He watched them get decapitated and staked like animals at a slaughterhouse and was able to brush it off and carry on like nothing. Even now the only thoughts he had were numb. He could vivdly remember the crimson dribbling off of Neo's sword, the severed head's glassy gaze as it's shock-frozen face bored into him accusingly. There was nausea, a slight discomfort around his own neck at the thought of dying in such a way, but beyond that… apathy.

Should he feel remorse? He didn't kill them. In fact, had they done what they came to do, Jaune himself would likely be hanging from his bedsheets. But Jaune couldn't shake the feeling they died because of him. No, they died for him. As soon as they entered his cell it was predestined that only one party would leave. Jaune just got lucky enough to catch the eye of someone bigger and badder.

Did he deserve that though? Was his life worth more than the two goons? They were just doing a job. Sure a morally bankrupt job and there was a good chance they ate babies or something, but they were still men. They could still have changed. Maybe Cardin could have, too.

Three lives, three people. The weight nearly made his knees buckle. The water shut off and Jaune toweled himself down. Was he worth it? A scared bloodied child who knew only comfort his entire life? Thrown into the wolves den without so much as a stick. Jaune gathered up his bloodied clothes. Could good really be done from down here, or was he just buying the lies of a snake oil salesman telling Jaune what he wanted to hear to break even on his investment? The door opened and he stepped back into Melanie's apartment.

He just didn't know.

The lights had been dimmed to a warm glow. Melanie had found a comfortable position in a hammock/couch concoction drawn across the far wall where two brick-framed windows offered a view down onto the shadowed Valean streets.

Her green eyes flicked up from a thick novel placed in her lap. Again, the strange mix of threatening curiosity had the skin on the back of Jaune's neck warming.

"Dump em down the chute there," She said with a nod towards a metal panel set into the exposed brick wall to Jaune's right. "The boys downstairs will clean it up."

Boys downstairs. Right. "Pretty convenient," Jaune said, dumping the bundle of bloodied cloth into the void without a second thought.

"Mmm. Like you wouldn't believe. Half my pay goes into new dresses." She flipped the page. "It's almost enough to make me stop wearing white. Almost."

Jaune suppressed the urge to gulp as he sat down on a black geometrically shaped couch perpendicular to Melanie. An uncomfortable silence passed by like molasses as he wracked his brain for something to say.

"So…" Jaune began. "how do you know Neo?"

She glanced at him sidelong with a look that asked 'really?' Jaune shrugged in response, eliciting a sigh from the woman.

"We went to school together." She said simply, turning the page again.

"So she's always been…" He trailed off, unsure how to respectfully describe his savior/abductor.

"What? A total bitch?" Jaune cringed, briefly expecting a stiletto blade through the eye socket. "Yeah, I think it's congenital or something."

"I was gonna say mute."

"That too."

Silence. Jaune played with the fabric of his loaned sweatpants. Melanie flipped a page.

"… Whatcha reading?"

Melanie snapped the book close with a clap and stared Jaune down head-on. For a brief second, he was back in Beacon and had called Weiss 'Snow Angel' for the first time. Ice crept up his spine as she tilted her head slightly.

"Are you fucking with me?"

Jaune blinked. "What?"

"Are. You. Fucking. With. Me?" Her face was absolutely neutral.

Jaune took a shot in the dark. "No?"

She smiled. It was terrifying. "I don't believe you. See, even the most sheltered boy scout in all of fucking Sanus knows that when you're in the company of obvious criminals, you don't ask any Brothersdamned questions. Seriously, have you ever seen the Godmother?"

It took Jaune a second to realize the question wasn't rhetorical. "I think I watched it with one of my sisters once-" Melanie rubbed a hand across her face in exasperation.

"Why would you tell me you have sisters?"

Jaune held his hands up. "I-I don't- you seem nice enough I thought… y'know…"

She sighed. Those bright green eyes locked back onto him, robbing him of any words he could say. "Look, either you're the best fuckin' liar I've ever met, or you're completely out of your depth here. A little advice: if you want to know stuff, use your eyes. And don't open your mouth unless someone asks you to. Makes you sound like a fucking cop." She picked up a mug and brought it to her lips before scowling. "Damnit…"

"O-kay, I can do that," Jaune said, lowering his hands slowly. "It's just, I have no idea what the fuck is going on."

Melanie chuckled. "Yeah, get in line sparky," She said leaning back into her seat. "It's bad enough that you know my name, and my face, and where I live, and where I work, and who my connections are. Fuck, you probably know more about me than my mother at this point."

Jaune cringed, "Sorry."

Her eyes flicked toward him. "I mean, I guess it's not your fault. That's not the point though, the point is I don't know anything about you and it should stay that way. A car will be here to pick you up tomorrow and after that – if nothing stupid happens – we'll never see each other again. So until then, you don't exist to me, and I don't exist to you." She picked her book back up and flipped it open. "Cool?" Jaune nodded. "Cool."

Thoroughly told off, Jaune fiddled with his entwined fingers in his lap as Melanie scowl-read her book. His eyes drifted towards the kitchen. It was late. Maybe even late enough to be early and by the way Melanie was white-knuckling that coffee cup she wasn't in the mood for sleeping with a stranger in her house. Jaune, for a similar reason, wasn't too inclined himself.

The Arc stood and made his way behind the counter. Well, his father always did say the easiest way to a person is through their stomach.

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With deft fingers, Jaune laid the last sunny-side-up egg on its new throne of lightly buttered toast. It was safe, simple, and not at all the only thing besides hot pockets Melanie had in their ghastly excuse for a pantry. In fact, he wasn't all too sure those white spots on the bread were flecks of grain as the packaging led him to believe.

Regardless, it was nice cooking something again. Back in Beacon, all their culinary whims were fulfilled by the extensive catering staff employed by the Cafeteria. Of course, the students had access to the kitchens should they want to make anything themselves but when you have what amounts to a four-star chef on call, why would you?

Well, the experience of course. The sense of accomplishment borne from creating something with your own hands only made it taste better. Honestly, it was the closest experience he could relate to the katas Pyrrha had him memorize. How many times had he made this dish for his pack of hungry sisters? If Jaune closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the Arc family's large kitchen. The dance-like rhythm he would fall into as he bounced from cupboard to stove to toaster to plate. Five voices wafted in from the dining room, bickering and shouting each in their unique way.

Jaune set his plate on the floating island that faced the living room. Trying not to show it, Jaune took pleasure in the way Melanie's eye twitched at the sound. She hadn't turned a page in five minutes.

He took a bite and sighed dramatically, savoring in the first taste of real food since being thrown into that cell.

"You know mph," Jaune said between bites. "If I was stupid enough to try and kill you, do you *munch* mm, d'ya really think I'd be smart enough to poison you? And, I mean, *munch* what would I even use? I literally came here from prison."

For the second time, his defacto roomie snapped the book shut with a sigh and padded over to the counter where she took a seat on one of the barstool-esque chairs on the living room side of the counter. Resting her chin on her palms, she looked up at him dispassionately.

"I don't know, I think your boyish charm is sweet enough to give me heart failure already," She tapped the counter. "Load me up sparky."

With a self-satisfied smile he couldn't quite suppress, Jaune placed the second plate he had made in front of Melanie.

"Can I have a knife and fork?" She said, observing the plate with curiosity.

Jaune blinked.

She glanced back up at him. "Please?"

"It's toast."

"There's egg too."

"Yeah but it's on the toast."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you make a habit of denying girls in their own kitchens, or am I just special?"

Jaune suppressed a sputter. "This is a matter of principle. What kind of psycho eats toast with a fork?"

"A civilized one," She held out a hand and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Their staring contest persisted as Jaune chewed on the inside of his cheek. Despite his not-so-subtle disdain, he had at least gotten her talking. Some of that venom had started condensing into a playful edge too.

"Fine," He grunted. "Where?"

She smiled. He had to admit it was beautiful. "Second drawer from the fridge."

Satisfied in her heresy Jaune watched with vague horror as she cut her eggy toast into diagonal pieces once one way and again in the opposite direction, creating a plate of easily pokable bit-sized pieces.

She took a bite of one and closed her eyes. "Mmm. Not bad, sparky."

"Yeah well," Jaune said, scratching the back of his neck. "I've had practice. Seven sisters and not one of them could cook." Melanie's eyes cracked open to give him an unimpressed look through her eyelashes. "What? You already knew I had sisters, figured defining the number was irrelevant at that point."

She dipped her head to the side as if to say 'fair' and then took another bite. They ate together in companionable silence.

"You know," She began, and Jaune had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't hearing things. Starting the conversation, her? "It's gonna take more than some food and a cute butt to get what you want."

Huh? "I don't want anything from you?" Jaune tried to state but it came out as more of a question.

She twirled her fork between her fingers. "Out here everyone got a game. It's how we get by. You come out here playing this naïve act, all cute and aloof, and make me breakfast," She took a bite. "Either someone's been reading my dream journal, or you're not what you seem."

The venom returned to her half-lidded gaze. Suddenly that fork held loosely between her fingers felt a lot more like a threat than a sign of comfortable company.

"I think," Jaune tested, shifting his gaze from the fork to her eyes. "That you need better friends."

She snorted at that. "Says the escaped attempted murderer."

Jaune winced. "Thought you didn't know anything about me."

She waived the fork dismissively. "Been around enough to know the Winchesters do anything but tell the truth."

"Maybe they're not entirely wrong on this one."

She quirked an eyebrow. "So you're a serial peeping tom with a history of sexual harassment?"

Jaune nearly choked on a piece of toast. "Ack- fuck! What the- Oum above no, is that what they're saying?"

"Amongst other things."

"No, fuck no. Just the… the uh attempted… y'know."

"What, murder?"

Jaune stayed silent and kept his eyes on the countertop.

Melanie blew a breath of incredulity. "Whatever the fuck Barkeep wants you for it cannot be good. It's like you're Father Theresa's second child or something."

Jaune's ears perked. So she did know him. If he played his cards right, he might be able to glean some more info. "You know him?"

"Barkeep? Yeah. Got me and someone close out of a rough spot so I've been doing odd favors to pay him back. Though trafficking boy scouts is definitely new."

"Is he…" She looked at him expectantly. This was gonna sound stupid. "… a good… person?..."

Yep.

Melanie stared at him. Hard. "You're not fucking with me."

"I think I already said I wasn't."

"Yeah well, it's not every day someone like Barkeep brings in a cugine. Guy usually runs with made men and mercs. Top-shelf mercs. All you did was put a Winchester brat in a coma, really? Who's your dad?" Jaune opened his mouth, but she held up a finger. "Don't answer that."

Melanie sighed and leaned forward. "Look, Jaune was it? You're godsdamned adorable and, despite history, the boy scout thing makes me thirsty as fuck." Her eyes got serious. "When you get in that car tomorrow tell the driver to take you to the airship dock. Get the first one to Vacuo and don't look back. Start a new life, impregnate a hooker, I don't really give a shit. Barkeep talks big game but he's a softie, so long as you stay quiet he'll let you be."

"But-"

"No buts Jaune. Don't let this city take you," She placed a hand on top of his. Her green irises dimmed. "If you give it an inch it will drag you to the bottom."

She smiled. It hurt.

"Trust me."

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By morning Melanie was gone.

He awoke groggily on the couch in an empty apartment. The long white stiletto-heeled boots that stood out to him last night were gone from beside the front door.

Pulling his achy body out from under the comforter he had found himself under, Jaune noted a folded pile of dress clothes on the counter and an elegantly embroidered piece of paper.

Dearest Jaune, it read in flowing nearly illegible script. Sincerest apologies for the events of the previous evening. I have instructed my finest tailor to deliver unto you this truly dazzling article of clothing. What you have now is but a loaner, the real thing is still being made. I aim to ensure my representatives are well dressed regardless. Please accept it as both a gift and an apology. A black Falcon awaits you in the front drive which will take you to your next destination. I look forward to continuing our correspondence. – B

Jaune set the note down and looked at the suit. It was a simple monochromatic three-piece that fits well. It didn't feel like a suit of armor as his father said a good suit should, but he felt better as he gave himself a cursory glance in the mirror. More mature. Less like he didn't know what the hell he was doing.

The club was busier than it had been the previous night as he descended the stairs back onto the main floor. Men in black suits with red ties milled about carrying boxes of materials and setting out the bar. None of them seemed to pay him any attention as he passed through them. None but a large-looking Valean man with light Mistralian features. He spoke with a cluster of suited men at the edge of the bar and briefly caught Jaunes eye as he passed. The man, however, gave a shallow nod and moved on.

Before he knew it, Jaune had stepped through the massive hangar doors and out onto the boulevard. The streets were nearly deserted save for a single bulky black limousine with an impenetrable tint. The inside was plush red velvet with more amenities than most downtown apartments had. Jaune was pretty sure that was a minibar.

A mustached man with a chauffeur's cap and thick black aviators opened the divider between the cockpit and his luxurious chamber.

"Pleasant day sir, I'm led to believe your destination is 1 Bohdi Court, is this correct?"

"Um…" He couldn't keep Melanie's words from creeping into his head. Was this the right decision? Would Vacuo be?

… Was there even a correct choice?

"Sir?"

Fuck it.

"Yes, that's correct," Jaune said with a smile that he hoped hid the terror in his heart.

The Chauffer nodded jovially. "Good lad! Gorgeous part of the city, I'm sure you're gonna find just what you're looking for."

"Heh, yeah," The car started and pulled away from the curb. "I sure hope so."

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Uh. Hi.

I got busy and then I got sick so I found time to finish this chapter. The good news is I'm done with work for a while so I should get out a couple more chapters before I break my Monday promise again, ehhh. Maybe even get through a heist or two ehhhhhhh.

Regardless, it felt good to write again. Melanie is my new favorite character to write from another character's POV. Jaune is traumatized. See you next week!