Regaining consciousness was a strange sensation. One instant, Earnie was a drift in a barmy sea of nothing and nowhere. The next, he was cognizant of his relation to the world as a thinking and breathing creature.
His eyes opened, but they would not focus. Dark shadows surrounded him. Poking. Prodding. Pondering.
Strangely, he could not feel much of anything. No pain. No pleasure. Just a vague uneasiness.
Something had happened. He could grasp that much. Any time he tried to recall what that was, the memory would slide through without a 'how do you do?'
There was one thing he could perceive. A beeping sound. This was not a Scroll alarm telling him to wake up. It was rhythmic and fluctuating. Much like the beating in his chest. Actually, it was exactly like that.
The detective deduced he was listening to an electrocardiograph. Or it could have been an oximeter. His spouse's endless certification exams had exposed him to both. He had played the role of practice dummy for her on many occasions.
What these experiences taught him was that medical devices did not usually make those noises. Those machines only did so when they needed to gain a nurse's attention. This was the signal that their patient was in distress.
Someone was in trouble.
As a trained first responder, Earnie wanted to render aid. Attempts at moving his body were met with great resistance. Weakly tossing his shoulders to dislodge whatever kept him firmly in place got him nowhere.
The silhouettes swirled. "He's waking up."
"A good sign but we're not done yet."
"Put him under again."
"I'm on it."
They spoke in several tongues. Moved with many hands. For some reason, they clustered around his head and out of direct sight.
Then he remembered. Fire. Smoke. White Fang.
Earnie had been running away from all three. From behind, he had been struck. A crack of thunder chased him on the way down. Last there was a memory of staring up from a pool of red.
The revelation was frightening. Earnie pulled harder. There was so much to do. He needed to get home. Wanted to see his children. Had to find his wife. As if summoned, one of the shades hovered before his face.
"Sleep." They soothed. "It's alright. I'll be waiting for you."
This one sounded like Tawney. He instantly trusted them. His struggles ceased. The void claimed him once more.
XIV. On the Mend
"Do you want something to bite on?" Trifa asked.
"Just get it over with."
Elder lay elevated on his back in a dimly lit room. Only his torso was supported by a too short bench, with legs hanging off the end. She held the limp arm with both hands straight and level with his waist.
Trifa twisted his wrist so that the palm and forearm were facing the ceiling. She then slowly moved the arm towards his head. Along the way, she made gentle but firm circular motions.
Once at a 90-degree angle, she stopped. "Hanging in there?"
"Yes."
The lieutenant gritted his teeth as she rotated the arm while continuing to lift. At about 120 degrees, there was a pop as the ball joint returned to the socket. A pained grunt passed his lips.
The spy finished the maneuver by bending the elbow towards him. Using a bandolier, she tied the limb to his upper body to create a makeshift sling. After finishing up, she backed away to give him space.
"Unless you want to undo all my hard work, keep that on and avoid any heavy lifting."
There was the possibility that he had strained multiple tendons or ligaments. More damage could occur if he were not careful. His Aura would help speed along the healing process, but only if he gave it time to work.
"Hmmm." Came a rumble of noncommitment through his mask and towards the ceiling.
"We don't have any pain relievers on hand, but I can request a pickup on the next supply run if you need them."
"I'll manage." His head rotated to her while the rest of him stayed still. "How's your leg?"
She rubbed her thigh at the prompt. "Hurts, but nothing that will inhibit my functions."
Underneath her leggings were the beginnings of a sickly bruise. All things considered she had gotten off lightly. No debilitating or permanent damage.
An uncomfortable silence pervaded the room. Outside was a different story. She could hear their troops shambling around. Trifa had led Elder off to a small supply closet. It would not do well for morale to see their field commander in such a state.
Battles were decided on such things.
"Who the hell was that?"
His undercurrent of frustration surfaced. Trifa was in a similar headspace. There was a cloud, a maddening unknown quantity that hung over them. Whoever that colorful woman was, she had nearly brought their cell down.
They both wanted answers. All they had were guesses and conjecture.
The off-kilter clothing suggested a huntress, but that did not quite fit. The fighting style was all wrong. Both too savage and too precise. She had plainly been trained in the art of neutralizing Aura capable opponents. The non-military aligned huntsman academies did not go out of their way to teach that level of skill.
Was she an assassin? A vigilante? Some kind of Atlas-engineered soldier?
Neither of the acting leaders knew. They could not leave it unsolved, either. Future activities in Vale hinged on knowing their enemies.
"Unclear. I'll interview everyone involved to piece together the chain of events."
During the attack, Trifa had been focused on preparing the van for the evacuation. As such, her own perception had been constrained. Learning what else had happened could uncover information that would lead to an identification.
A sneer curdled Elder's lip. "Start with our sentries. I'd like to know how they were evaded. No one had better have been asleep while on watch."
They would be spoken with, but she did not expect to learn anything useful. Their enemy had either snuck around the guards or had beaten them down. Trifa worried about his motive.
"This was a collective failure. I will not single anyone out and neither should you."
He rumbled again. She was prepared to further argue against scapegoating when the entrance to the closet was pulled open. Stumbling in was one of their recruits.
"Lieutenant!" The mouse-eared woman stopped and flushed as her two superiors focused on her. "Sorry to interrupt!"
If she had not proven herself capable, Trifa would have chastised the intrusion. Acting relatively calm as their van driver during a tense chase had earned the woman some leeway. Instead, the spy only gently nudged her along.
"Is something the matter?"
"Company at the front. There's a human asking, no, demanding that she see him."
Elder tried to rise. Trifa bade him to stay. In his current state, he was unlikely to be diplomatic. That could prove problematic if this visitor were who she thought it was.
"Let me handle this." Showing his fatigue, he flopped back down without a word. "Initiate, ensure the lieutenant doesn't overtax himself. The sooner he recovers, the sooner he can return to active service."
"Yes ma'am!"
Brimming with enthusiasm, the recruit moved over to his side. Already she was peppering him with questions on his needs. Elder tilted back to feign sleep. This caused her to insist on locating a proper bed for him.
While amusing, Trifa had to block it out. She could not let any of that humor show on her body. The next meeting was critical. Slipping a mask of seriousness on, she let herself out.
In the corridor, she ran across several of their number attending to their own maladies. The most common was smoke induced coughing. There were also those nursing bruises, cuts, and in one case, a broken jaw. None of them had Aura, so they were stuck with a slower recovery window.
Professional treatment was out of the question. The police would have put out a notice to the local medical facilities to be on the lookout for suspicious injuries. They would need to wait for the heat to die down first.
Until then, the White Fang members did their best to help each other out. Water and lozenges were being distributed at great length. Even more were working on creative ways to hide or excuse away the extent of their injuries.
Emptied out into the greater building, she found those healthy enough to work were still at it. Those transports lucky enough to have avoided the prior mayhem had arrived at the warehouse on the city outskirts. Their contents were being unloaded much faster than before.
Experience had taught this company how to self-organize. A silver lining to this debacle was now evident. These newbies would either come out stronger or would realize that they were better suited for less combat-oriented roles.
There was nothing wrong with knowing one's limits. Trifa herself had learned long ago she was not cut out for commando work. That she had come out on top in the last engagement was due to excellent positioning.
Straight fights were not her domain of expertise. Intelligence gathering and negotiation were. That was what she would stick with.
At the foremost section of the building, Trifa expected to find Cinder waiting. Instead, the fiery lady's associate was there, leaning against a conveyor belt. The spy did not have to think hard for the name.
"Emerald. Good to see you again."
Niceties went ignored. "Where's your boss?"
The girl either lacked tact or did not like Trifa. Probably the second. This was a cold dislike. Personal in nature and not a simmering hatred based in human supremacy. The faunus knew how to spot the difference.
Either way, Emerald's ignorance was on display. Trifa did not report to anyone in this White Fang command structure. She saw no reason to correct that assumption.
"He is attending to important matters. I'm authorized to speak on his behalf, much like you with your own superior."
"We are nothing alike."
"Agreed. Now, what is it that you need from us?"
The other woman's lips thinned into a line. She was trying to determine if she was being insulted. Deciding it was irrelevant, Emerald continued on with the next brisk demand.
"Cinder wants to stay informed on today's events."
As was her right, Trifa supposed. "As I explained in our emergency message, we were discovered by a police officer."
"How?" She snapped.
"Unclear. We were able to neutralize the threat and begin organizing a retreat. That was when we were blindsided by a powerful third party." Emerald almost said something before Trifa continued. "We do not know who they were. That will take a while to ascertain."
She frowned at being preempted. "What were our losses?"
"A number of recruits were hurt-"
"I meant in terms of Dust."
Trifa had to be careful. Underselling what had happened could be construed as lying. Counter to that, she did not want to give Emerald a reason to speak negatively of their progress. Any more than she was going to, anyway.
"Around thirty percent." By her rough calculation.
"That much?" The green-haired girl smiled.
"What was retained is significantly more than you had before we became involved. I would also remind you that these circumstances were foreseen. If this storage facility were available earlier, we would not have been caught."
"You should be thankful that I was able to set this up at all!"
"We are. Which is why it is imperative that we continue to work together. Closer cooperation will make the next raid much smoother."
There was a slight flair to her nostrils. "Fine. I will let Cinder know."
"Thank you." Trifa had to fight off a sardonic smirk. "By the way, how long will we have these facilities?"
It was unlikely that they owned the place now. Such a land purchase on short notice in a big city was unheard of. Even the SDC, with all the money in the world, would have taken a few weeks to close the deal.
"Two weeks. The leasing company official we are bribing was insistent. Will that be enough time to figure out longer term plans?" She asked, hopeful of a negative answer.
"Yes." It would have to be.
Done speaking, Emerald walked away. Her mesh-covered shoulders hunched in disappointment. She wanted so badly to embarrass Trifa. For what purposes, the Brothers only knew. Rather than be upset, the spider faunus was further intrigued.
People who acted this way usually did so out of a sense of insecurity. Such self-doubt presented an interesting puzzle to solve. And, perhaps, an opportunity to exploit.
/ / /
In an extravagantly furnished double-sized room, a blond boy sat on a fine leather couch. Soot painted the upper half of his face while the lower portion was flushed. He had stripped down to boxers and an undershirt to beat the heat. His outfit lay draped in a club chair.
On an ottoman before him, lay a bleached-white mask. Its monstrous accents dug into plush upholstery. This grim totem underlined their newest foe in red.
"So, the White Fang?" The youth asked the spirit within.
"Yeah. The White Fang."
That was as far as Roman and Jaune had gone on the subject. The afternoon had been used up elsewhere. Escaping a police dragnet, offloading Dust crates, and ditching the getaway vehicle made for a good distraction from their newest foes.
Discovering this terroristic paraphernalia tucked away in one of the boxes brought it all screaming back. The boy was seemingly compelled to bring the gruesome thing along. The specter had been too deep in thought to dissuade him.
They now occupied a grand suite of the Ambassador's Pointe Hotel. Neopolitan had been insistent that they have a proper place to stay. Roman was stunned it had taken her that long to put her foot down. The shack provided none of the creature comforts they were accustomed to.
At a fourth of the size of his flat, the suite was passable. Amenities included two memory foam beds, a kitchenette, and a small lounging space. An upgrade for sure, but still far short of Roman's expectations.
There was also a fully equipped bathroom with a walk-in tub. Neo, of course, had seized that room before Jaune could wash his face. After three hours of soaking, Roman wondered if she planned on living in there.
It had been keenly awkward to arrive at such a renowned hotel as scuffed and smelling of smoke as they were. Despite this, the bellhops had been unflappable. Dealing with trust fund kids, wild celebrities, and other members of the nouveau riche had inoculated them to the occasional odd check-in.
"When you told me Cinder had schemes a huntsman would want to stop, I had no idea they would involve groups like the White Fang…"
Truthfully, Roman had been speaking in hyperbole. Being on a needs-to-know basis, he was not fully informed of her plans. All he was told was that she wanted Dust and did not care of the mayhem caused in the pursuit.
In that light, the White Fang fit in well.
"We don't know for sure of their connection to her, but we should consider them major players in our game."
Had the trio been able to use the police to engage the extremists, they could have stayed hidden. Not anymore. It would not be long before the whole cell considered Neo and Roman enemies' number one and two.
What was done was done. Rather than lament, Roman preferred to focus on what came next. Jaune seemed to be of a similar mindset.
"What does this change?"
"Very little. Our priority is still figuring out where Cinder is and what her plans are. We already have Madam Amour and the Xiong as nominal allies."
With Madam A working the Cinder angle, perhaps they could put Junior on uncovering more about the White Fang. Having the two rivals working opposite angles could produce the best results. It would also keep them out of each other's way.
"And the Division?"
"Let's give them a few days to respond to our latest message." Pushing any harder might turn VPD against them. "In the meantime, I believe you have an important engagement to keep. Something scholastic in nature?"
"Beacon!" Jaune nearly leapt out of his skin. "Oh man. I completely forgot. That's happening soon too and I'm not ready at all!"
"I'll say. We still haven't found you a stylish and functional huntsman outfit."
"Forget the outfit!" He cried out in heresy. "After seeing Neo fight… Compared to her, I'm an ant. How will I pass initiation if that is the type of person I'll be competing against for a spot?"
Using Neopolitan as a measuring stick for combat ability was a terrible idea. Anyone would feel inadequate. Roman could count on one hand the number of people who could last five minutes against her solo.
But, if the kid was not up for it, who was Roman to disagree? "No one said you had to go through with this. Plenty of people give up before the semester begins."
"Give up!?" The boy's response had the spirit regretting his verbiage. "I'm not giving up. You gotta help me, like you promised."
They had agreed on that, unfortunately. Jaune more than held up his end. Reneging would make him less than cooperative going forward.
How to provide this assistance was the question. Neo using the lad as a punching bag was not going to cut it anymore. The huntsman-to-be had more or less learned how to activate his Aura and the consequences of not doing so.
Luckily, Roman already knew what to do. Jaune had a sword. The time had come for him to get a little blood on it.
"Help you I will. In fact, I was about to suggest we have a bit of a cram session. It can be our own little 'initiation' to get you ready for the real thing. What do you say?"
The strain in Jaune's body eased. "Yeah. Let's do that."
"We'll make our preparations tomorrow morning and head out. Should be memorable if nothing else."
With a solution now front and center, Jaune went from tired and gloomy to downright excited. Which was good. He was going to need that pep with what Roman had in mind.
Behind them, the washroom finally opened up. Escaping steam fogged vanity mirrors throughout the suite. Neo practically floated out with a fluffy towel wrapped around her body.
Her clothes were currently being cleaned. The hotel was fancy enough to have an in-house laundering service. However, that left her with little to wear.
She waltzed over to the chair their jacket hung from. With a flourish, she draped the thick material over her bare shoulders, letting the lapel cover her chest down to about her knees. She readjusted the towel to cover the rest.
The teen was trying very hard not to watch as she did this. That she was now wearing clothing that Jaune had been inside surely sent all sorts of ideas rolling in his hormonal head. He was correct in assessing that Neo was unlikely to appreciate a wandering gaze.
Her appearance did remind Roman of an important subject. In the hubbub, he had almost neglected an obligation. This was a serious matter that only she could resolve.
"Say, Neo." Roman began, drawing her interest. "Now that you are here, there is something you can help us with. We have a little wager going on that I think you can settle for us."
It took a moment for Jaune to recall what Roman was talking about. For him, the bet they made must have felt like a lifetime ago. Once prompted, he agreed.
"Right! Neo, do you know what Roman's Rule thirty… uh…"
"Thirty-seven."
"Yeah. Thirty-seven. Do you know what that is?"
She scratched her chin, contemplating the question. Eventually, she snapped her fingers. Reaching down, she pantomimed holding a fishing pole and casting out a line. Her right fist went in circular motions, like she was reeling in a big one.
"Ha!" Jaune exclaimed in premature victory. "Looks like I-"
Her hand then reached down and untied the towel around her waist. It fell to the ground with a wet plop. His eyes widened before averting upwards. Then the implications of what the combined charades meant hit him; 'Catch them with their pants down.'
Jaune groaned. Roman laughed and laughed. Neo shrugged, ignoring both of them to hop on her bed to catch an early nap.
/ / /
Before the Vale Council's chamber, an official in dress blues squinted at a junior officer who blocked his way. Behind the guard, great ornate doors that could withstand most conventional firearms were closed. That did little to shield them from a verbal lashing.
"What do you mean I'm not allowed inside?"
The bailiff waved her hands. "This session is limited to authorized personnel, sir."
"Authorized?" Major Ervil Nadder pointed to the stitched arrows on his uniform. "Count my chevrons. In what universe am I not authorized?"
"Only elected officials and appointees are to be admitted. The Council was adamant."
"Young lady, in that emergency meeting you are keeping me from, they are discussing the gravest security threat that we have faced in a generation. One that affects every member of VPD. Are you telling me that the Secretary of Sanitation, a literal trashman, would be admitted before me?"
The wet-behind-the-ears officer quaked in her boots. While Nadder did not have control over the Council's law enforcement agency, he did have some influence. They were drafted from his squads, after all.
She nearly cracked. "I-I guess you can-"
"Do you have to be so dramatic?" It was then that Council's Prosecutor Lowell Albano slid up to them. "Giving this gal a hard time, for what? A glorified staff meeting?"
Though he said this, Nadder could not help but notice that the lawyer had elected to wear a full suit as opposed to the usual khakis and button down. His unruly mane was even in a ponytail.
"You know there is more to it than that!"
An explosion had rocked the commerce sector. This, after a mass killing and two armed robberies. There was reason to believe a certain faunus terrorist organization was behind it all. If this was only a 'staff meeting,' then they were all guilty of dereliction of duty.
"Maybe." Albano said lower for only the two of them. "But we ought to project calm and confidence. The public is always watching."
He angled his head. Following the motion brought the police administrator to the back steps of the vestibule. Lurking there was Lisa Lavender. Her cameraman was taping a B-roll of the day's events. All it would take was a short swivel and they would be on the nightly news.
Ervil gulped. The stink he had been about to cause was, in hindsight, ill conceived. Lowell had saved him from looking foolish.
"I'm just saying," He whispered now. "It is important that our voice is heard."
"You will be. The Commissioner of Police was invited."
That tidbit of information soured Nadder even further. The Secretary of Sanitation would have been a better representative. Their commissioner was little more than a bureaucrat, appointed because of his non-offensive demeanor. He had never worn a uniform in his life.
There was a lack of vision. An inability to see that the police could be so much more. That deficiency was unlikely to change with their current civilian oversight. Not unless someone forced the issue.
"Can you make sure the Council sees this during their deliberations?"
He tried to pass a thick printout titled 'Towards the New Valean Century' into the prosecutor's hands. It was a position paper he had been sitting on for a moment such as this. Contained inside were policies that could revolutionize Vale.
All he needed was for the right people to implement them. Wonks that they were, the Council members would eat it up. Albano would be the perfect messenger.
"This isn't a summit. We are discussing our collective response to the current crisis, not shifting policing paradigms." The lawyer rebuffed before parting ways. "Let's chat later. I'm behind as is. Maybe we can find a better venue for that, yeah?"
There was no better venue than now! A crisis was always the best chance to break from precedent. The fools could not let such a golden moment slip through their fingers.
And yet Albano seemed set on doing just that. He brushed by the bailiff, who had opened the doors enough for him to slip through. A short glimpse inside showed serious people crowded around a table in deep discussions.
And then that world was shut to Nadder.
For a little while longer, the major stood there with his manifesto still outstretched. His disbelief soon turned to rage. Had he been alone, he would have thrown the stack of papers on the ground and stomped them.
Knowing better, he huffed and walked away. The Council's steward bid him farewell. No doubt she would laugh at him once he was far enough away. More resentment crept into his stride as he flexed the documents in his hand.
Stalking around the rest of City Hall, Nadder had to elbow a path through the crowd. Office workers and big business-types mingled between meetings. Lobbyists glanced his way, trying to determine if he was someone worth conversing with. They decided not and returned to their previous engagements.
At VPD, Nadder was a king maker. Here, he was just another employee. The hired help. Only worthy of notice when a mess was made.
Angrily mashing on his Scroll, he alerted the chauffeur service that he was ready to be picked up. This was sooner than had been arranged but Nadder did not want to stay longer than he had to. His discontent grew with each passing second.
Mercifully, he received a confirmation soon after. A car was on its way.
Once outdoors, he was shocked to find a limousine already waiting for him. Beside the vehicle, parked perpendicular to the building, was a younger man holding a cardboard sign. Nadder's name was scrawled on the front in black.
Too upset to second guess this reversal in fortune, the top cop made for the limo. The driver, dressed in a beige uniform, slouched in boredom. His expression barely changed as the major approached. Closer now, Nadder made an observation about them.
"You are not one of my regulars."
"Ah, yeah." The silver-haired valet appeared surprised at being spoken to. "Just started today."
Ervil sighed. "Are you going to open the door?"
The youth scrambled for the handle. "Sorry. Still getting into the swing of things. Right this way."
This one really was new, Ervil thought. There was not even a 'sir' added to the end of that sentence. A review of the chauffeur service contract lay in the future. For now, there were places to be.
When Nadder was halfway in the car, he noticed there was another person already inside the 'private' cab. Before he could lodge a complaint, he was roughly pushed the rest of the way in. His manifesto took flight as he swanned dived into the floor mat.
The door was swiftly shut behind him. Trying to open it again from the inside was useless. A child lock was engaged. He banged on the window.
This thumping was ignored as the driver hustled to his seat and started the engine. Soon enough they were rolling along. Ervil would have yelled but saved his breath. The separating divider was up, effectively making the cabin soundproof.
"Oh my!" The smoky voice of the other occupant exclaimed. "I hope he was not too rough with you."
Sitting there with a leg crossed was a woman in a sable dress. Dark tresses fell around a midnight upper face mask. A strange sight, but not uncommon. Masquerade parties were quite popular with socialites.
"No need for alarm, Ms. I am more than alright."
"Good. I'd hate to think my associate had hurt you in any way."
As he righted himself, Nadder noted the implications. Their proximity was no accident. It was premeditated. Major Nadder, the most senior police officer in Vale, had been abducted in broad daylight without anyone being the wiser. She darkly chuckled at his realization.
"What-" He gulped. "What is this?"
"A meeting." Was her oh so sinister response.
Nadder glanced around, feeling like a cornered animal. "Meeting?"
"I arranged for our paths to cross so as to not inconvenience your busy schedule. We can talk while you are on your way to…" She trailed off.
He stared at her. Golden irises met his own unflinchingly. Knowing she was waiting on a destination, he provided one.
"My office."
Her slender finger pushed a button on her seat. A light blinked, indicating the chauffeur intercom was switched on. She swayed ever so slightly closer to a speaker.
"How soon could you get us to VPD Headquarters?"
"Twenty minutes or so."
"Excellent." Her digit retracted. "Less than half an hour. More than enough time for you to hear a proposal of mine. What do you say?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"There is always a choice, Major." She tilted her head. "Or would you prefer Kingsnake in this setting? I am unaware of the protocols for your organization."
Whoever she was, she was well informed. That callsign was meant to distance Nadder from his role as head of the Division. It was not meant to be a common shorthand for him as an individual.
"Erv is fine when in private." They were beyond formalities at this point.
"Then you may call me Cinder." She signaled for him to take the spot beside her, which he did. Carefully. "If you are not amenable to my offer, then this meeting never happened. You will leave this car a free man and we will go our separate ways."
He did not fully believe her but nodded. "What is your proposal?"
"Let me give you a bit of background on myself. I run a small, but talented, group that helps powerful people make their dreams come true."
"To what end?" Nothing was ever free.
"So that they can do the same for me."
"You are a favor collector, then."
"Yes." She laughed. "Very astute."
That helped him relax. Reciprocal relationships were straightforward. He had been involved in many such arrangements before.
Cinder continued. "Now, I was led to believe you were someone who could make things happen in this city."
"By who?" His jaw clenched at the leak in their secrecy.
"A Mr. Marcus Black."
"I highly doubt that."
Marcus was never their biggest fan. He had stopped taking their calls ages ago. Apparently, their money was not good enough for him anymore.
She laughed. "It was a secondhand recommendation from his son."
He shuddered. The mere idea of Black siring a child was enough to freeze Nadder to the bone. Remnant did not need two of that monster running around.
As good as the button man was, working with him was terrifying. Each meeting routinely began with Black graphically describing how he would dismember those who wasted his time. Doing so would have been bad for his business, yet no one dared test him.
"Then he probably also told you we are not as influential as we used to be." Years of internal investigations and forced retirements had crippled their ranks.
"What I would ask of you would be well within your capabilities. Another client of mine requires information. Specifically, on Dust shipments in and out of Vale. They require fuel for their… revolution."
Her choice of words told him all he needed. "You are with the White Fang."
"We are not." Her voice did not rise but was emphatic. "In the same way that we would not be with the Division if an agreement is reached. You would not need to directly help them either with money or weaponry. All we would ask is that you avoid purposefully antagonizing each other for the length of the partnership."
"After today, that may not be possible." VPD would be expected to demonstrate a strong response to their raids inside the city.
"Are you sure? This information would dictate the White Fang's circumstances. Where they go. Who they target. Surely, advanced knowledge of where they would strike would make hostilities avoidable."
What she was providing was a way to manage the chaos. Afterall, the White Fang were going to rob and kill regardless of what was decided here. Giving them targets outside the city would keep the bulk of violence the beyond the walls.
Or he could use the White Fang as a weapon. Arranging for them to be in the same place at the same time as his political enemies could lead to favorable outcomes. They had already made his life easier by shooting a detective who had been a thorn in his side for years.
Or he could use them as a way to push the Council to his line of thinking. A controlled incident would prove once and for all why they needed to strengthen their policing infrastructure. With the Division at the center of that bolstering, obviously.
The possibilities were endless.
"How about afterwards? Once the agreement eventually ends."
She smiled. "That is no concern of ours."
With his accumulated knowledge of their operations, he could then turn around and betray the White Fang. Perhaps drive them out of the kingdom entirely. To succeed would make him the most consequential citizen since their final king purposefully abdicated.
Nadder slowed his roll. It would not be that easy. Could not. Working with those animals had to be beyond the pale.
Surely.
Cinder pressed on. "Trust is a difficult prospect. I understand this. That is why we are willing to prove ourselves. Our first favor to you will be on the house."
He could not believe he was considering this. "What would you be willing to do?"
"Anything. You strike me as a man of ambition. One not suited to a life of quiet desperation." She leaned closer, eyes twinkling. Burning. "Tell me, what is your deepest desire? How can we begin to make that happen?"
His own eyes moved away from her to the car floor. Laying at their feet was his policy paper. The thin staple binding had broken, scattering the pages. Ervil Nadder knew right then what his favor would be.