The city of Vale could be described as many things, depending on who you ask. You ask someone from the North End what it's like living in the big city, they'll tell you that it's a beautiful place. Music blaring loudly enough to escape the walls of night clubs, lights brightly flickering between colors to where they made the starry sky look dim by comparison. And then there were the high-rise buildings, tall enough to block out the sun.
Now, Northern Vale was an alright place, but that wasn't what made it so enticing. No, what made Northern Vale so enrapturing to behold was the value that it provided. The only people who lived in Northern Vale were the ones who could afford it, and North End was an expensive place. Houses that cost seven digits to own, cars that roamed the streets were worth more than some people made in their entire lives, and the schools those fat cats would send their kids to were worth more than all of South End.
Maybe a bit of Central too.
To a man like Roman Torchwick, North End meant one thing; Profit. There was much to be gained by the existence of the fat cats in Northern Vale, but robbing them was difficult. He knew that more than anyone in this city. But just because he couldn't break into their homes didn't mean he had to leave them be.
See, the fat cats had to put their money somewhere, and God forbid they put it in the Banks. After all, if they put their money in banks, it's just sitting there! Practically waiting for him to steal it. And above all, it failed to make a profit. So, the local Rich endeavored to put their money to use.
They chose to invest in businesses, businesses that they felt were safe. Car dealerships, because everyone needs a car. The housing market of Central and East Vale were safe too, because everyone needs a house. The food industry could never fail, because every single living being needs food. But the one that always made Roman think was why they bothered investing in Dust.
He knew very well as to why they would. The SDC was too big to fail. If the Schnee Dust Company fell through, then the entire world supply of Dust would be scattered, with companies rushing to buy up all the mines they could. Of course, not that it would ever happen, but it was an interesting hypothetical. But Dust was not something that everyone needed.
The only people that desperately relied on Dust were the Military Complexes, the Automotive Industry, and Hunters. Hunters were far from profitable, and the Military Complex was subsidized by the state, which only left room for one thing. The Automotive industry.
Roman always wondered how people could afford to pay for luxury cars, paying a premium on combustion dust fuel. He always figured it was some long and complex pyramid scheme, but having done a little studying on basic economics, it was beyond easy. A fella gets some money set aside, buys a share in the SDC or one of its many subsidiary mining groups, and continues to set money aside to put it in stock.
Before anyone's the wiser, presto! You're able to pay off your bills with just a couple of years investing. Of course, that was a gross oversimplification, but alas.
So, Roman weighed his options. He could either rob banks and steal chump change from the average citizen, or he could go for the big fish and steal the carpet out from under the feet of the SDC and their shareholders. Spiting the rich folks in North End was just the icing on the cake.
The master thief was quick to pick; he chose to steal the carpet.
And boy did he make his buck. Before long, Roman was covered in dust, and he struggled to find enough places to hide his shipments. He was stealing more dust than he knew what to do with. All of the guys that would normally buy from him couldn't afford to take his whole supply. Now, Roman was not a traditionally educated man, but again, basic economics.
Supply outpaced demand, and soon enough, Dust was a lot less valuable in Vale's underground market. He almost gave up on his venture and cut his losses, had a third party not gotten involved. A shame, too. He would've had a lot of fun blowing it all up on the Frontier. You know, to counter inflation. Oh, who was he kidding? He wanted to blow it up for the hell of it.
Roman had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting a certain woman and her insufferable brats. She offered him a job: continue stealing dust, and she would pay him for the trouble. The only catch was that she would then sell it to the White Fang.
This would be the part where a man of high standing would set his foot down, holding his chin high as he disavowed the idea of selling to terrorists. They would use this dust to build bombs, create ambushes, manufacture munitions. These were bad people!
So it must have made Torchwick worse, considering he happily obliged.
Some days were smooth sailing. Step in, hold the shop owner at gunpoint with a few hired thugs, maybe get their I.D. card and threaten their family, and slip into the dark before anyone was the wiser. That third one was a little hit or miss some days, but that had more to do with his lack of care.
But on days where a robbery led to trouble, Roman made sure to follow-up on that threat. Nothing too serious, just a case of breaking and entering, coupled with an assault charge or two, and a quiet exit. Maybe a decent cigar if he felt remarkably annoyed.
Much like today, where he was feeling particularly annoyed. Not over something as petty as a shop owner. No, no, that'd be too easy. His largest complaint was the fact that his escape driver failed to outrun the Vale P.D in a car chase, panicked, jumped out of the driver seat with him in tow, and used her illusion semblance to hide them from prying eyes. On a surface layer, that didn't sound too bad.
And it wouldn't have been, had their escape vehicle not been filled with the dust they were stealing!
Roman felt the smoke from his cigar pool at the back of his mouth as he ran a hand over his eyes, letting the smoke slip from his lips with a sigh. The warehouse walls failed to keep the chilly midnight air from brushing against his skin, his legs propped up on his desk near the furthest wall away from the entrance. Around him were stacks upon stacks of crate and industrial containers, all of them filled by his favorite combustible product.
It wasn't the most healthy stress reliever, but at least he wasn't paying for whores. Besides, most women weren't even worth half of his time, much less his money.
Though, the only thing that distracted him from his midnight cigar was the sight of his favorite enforcer pacing in front of his desk. A slim hand rested over her mouth as her brows furrowed over her heterochromatic eyes. The sound of her high-heeled boot clacking against the cement floor grated on his ears, the dull ache behind Roman's eyes throbbing harder with each clack.
"Cut the pacing, Neo." His cigar bounced against the corner of his lip as he slumped further against his chair. "Your heels are going to drive me nuts." Forgoing his typical snark. He hardly had the energy for that right now.
Neo's heels ceased their incessant sound as she stopped in front of him, her hands resting on her thin waist. Her fingers tapped as stared down at him.
"You know, I'm not sure what's got you so upset. I clearly recall giving you some very proper directions. And I would know, because I have a fantastic memory."
Neo's brows only furrowed as a loud breath left through her nose, her hands waving and signing wildly soon after. Accusations of vague calls, poor directions, and- Poor planning?
Roman's cigar slipped from his mouth, the ash of a lit cigar brushing against his pristine white coat. "Excuse me?" The Ginger criminal had to stop himself from throwing his hat across the warehouse as a means of just doing something with his anger. So, he settled from gripping the edge of his desk before his knuckles turned white. "I know you didn't just sign me that. Because if you did, I've got a list of times where you, little miss, failed to follow through on a plan of mine. Like tonight, come to think of it."
His Right Hand tilted her head, raising a singular brow as a heat burned behind her eyes.
"Oh, you want to know how? Well, maybe if you listened to my calls and followed my very carefully planned route, which I put together meticulously over the span of a few nights, we would still have our shipment! So don't go and act like this is my fault, because I have a growing list." He carefully made his case through gritted teeth. Neo was his closest companion of many years now, but she certainly had a way of pushing his big red buttons.
Roman could have sworn that he watched a deep crimson red flush her face as she stuck a finger under his chin, reaching over his as she grabbed his collar. Then she paused, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. One second passed, then two, followed by a third, and only then did her grip on his collar loosen.
He watched his favorite gremlin sign, extending an olive branch. An admittance that they both did something a little wrong. On her part, she failed to follow instruction. On his, he failed to properly improvise.
The criminal let his green eyes shut, letting out a sigh as he brushed the ash from his coat picking up his burning cigar. "Okay, that's fine, I can work with that. I apologize for losing my cool, and I accept that I may have failed in some part of the process. So, let's start fresh." Despite him being many things, Roman wasn't above admitting when he was wrong. A little reluctant in it, but who wasn't? No one likes admitting that they were stupid.
He watched the brown haired girl nod as her shoulders slackened, signing that she apologized for losing her temper. See, that was why he liked Neo. She was able to even him out enough to make him see a bit of reason. Not because she was smarter than him, but because she was extremely petty.
"Alright, now that we've got that out of the way, we need to talk shop." He started, leaning forward as he let his arms rest against his desk. Papers strewn about with different profit margins, expenditures, and general investments scribbled in ink. "Your driving, while better than average, is a little typical."
Neo rose a curious brow as she stepped beyond the desk and stood next to him, staring at the side of his head.
"Well, you know, you're a short lady-" She didn't even wait for him to finish as she slugged his shoulder. "Ow, alright! I was making fun of your height, not you being a woman." The light behind her eyes deadened as she slugged him again, this time harder.
The ginger criminal laughed to himself as he rubbed his aching shoulder. "Okay, that was a little warranted. But I'm not wrong! Your driving is a little rusty, and frankly, it's not within your skillset." Roman watched as the brunette narrowed her eyes. "Hey, just because you're not good at driving doesn't mean you're bad at everything! I still need you around to, uh, how do I put this politely? You facilitate jobs going smoothly by clearing the room, so to speak."
The mute woman only rolled her eyes. The fact that he felt the need to romanticize the work she did never failed to amuse her. She was hired to ward off, and potentially kill, people that would endanger the success of a job. Of course, she typically resorted to non-lethal methods. They tended to attract less attention, and the less people in the obituaries because of organized crime, the less people would care.
However, if she and Roman were dealing with two-bit thugs, she didn't give them the same clemency. Who would miss criminals besides other criminals?
"Hey, I know that look. You're thinking about something inhumane again." Roman accused, watching as Neo's brows rose in surprise as she pointed to herself. "Yes, you. You know how I like to do things; quick and clean. I've got no room for body bags, it's too messy."
The short enforcer only huffed, turning her head to the side. Maybe he should consider hiring someone who dabbled in body bags, then she'd be able to do her job more efficiently.
The master thief let out a sigh for what felt like the umpteenth time tonight. "All I'm saying is that we need a new driver. Now, the question is, where do we get one?" He wasn't sure if thinking out loud helped, but Roman learned that it helped spur on the thinking process.
Though, as he let out a hum as he clasped his hands against his desk, he heard the sounds of heels clacking against the cement. The damndest thing was that Neo wasn't moving. He would know, because he was staring right at her.
His headache was about to get worse, he just knew it.
From around the corner came a woman dressed in a shortly cut red dress, showing off all sorts of thigh and shoulder. You know, the sort of thing that would impress lesser men. But besides a pretty figure, raven black hair, and amber eyes to tie it all together, she was just as bad as every other criminal he worked with. The only difference was that she was easy on the eyes.
Beside her were her closest strays, the green one and the gray one. The green one was dressed in something a bit more foreign, showing off more than someone her age should. A green crop-top complemented by white jeans, and brown chaps to match. The only thing he could bother to remember was that she was a street rat that likened herself to a decent thief.
She was nothing.
Then, of course, there was the cocky gray one. By comparison, the gray one was plain looking, though Roman supposed it was a good thing. If standing out meant looking like a Lien-store stripper, maybe looking average was a blessing. Gray was dressed in a gray and black zip-up jacket, wearing black pants to boot, hence the name.
Roman let out a half-hearted laugh as he stood from behind his desk. "Cinder, what a pleasantsurprise. I wish you would have called, I'd have made some better arrangements. Seriously, you should have called." Gritting out the last of his words through his teeth as all the amicable energy in his eyes faded.
An uncomforting smile came across his associate's face. "Oh Roman, is it really so wrong that I'd like to see how my associate is faring? I thought that there would be a bit more trust in my intentions by now?" Despite her words coming out like smooth honey, they grated on his ears. He knew what that tone meant, especially with broads with something to gain.
The master thief crossed his arms as his shoe impatiently clacked against the floor. "It's hard to trust someone when they come to me with lies. Tell me what you want, and I just might deliver." Roman was a lot of things. He was a cheater, a coward, a thief, a bastard, a criminal, he could go on. But he would never be a liar. "Unless you're coming with something worth saying, I've got work to do. Thank you in advance."
Before his associate could get a word in, Roman watched as Gray let out a laugh. "What? Still busy trying to figure out where your pretty little white van went? Or maybe you're more worried about the contents?" That was Roman's biggest problem with Cinder's kids. They had the biggest mouths in Vale, but failed to ever back it up.
He rolled his emerald eyes as he stared at Cinder's guard dog. "Say, I know this is going to sound weird, but I've got a muzzle for your mutt if you ever need it. Because I've noticed that he really doesn't like to keep his mouth shut." Roman was honestly debating walking beyond his desk and smacking the lips off of Gray's face.
"Ooh, I might take you up on that." Came Green's reply, a wide smirk on her lips as she stared at Gray from the corner of her eye. "If you've got something to have him shut up for an hour, I'll die happy." A part of him wanted to suggest euthenasia, but that would be painless. He heard the Mistrali method of bullet to the brain worked well.
Gray scoffed as he stared back at Green. "If I get the muzzle, you get a collar, bitch."
"How about you say that to my face?" Snapped the immediate response from Green.
Without a word, Cinder set her hands on the shoulders of each stray, a subtle glow coming from under her palms. "Behave." She muttered, her previously soft amber eyes growing sharp.
A quiet 'yes ma'am' was enough to end that dispute, leading Roman's associate to look back at him. Though, he wasn't fast enough to wipe the smirk from his face. "I couldn't care less about your failure tonight, so long as you have what I want."
The master thief snorted as he rolled his eyes. "Cinder, I'm a professional. When I offer an exchange, I always have a fallback. I've got some extra stock in the back. You want it delivered to the same place?" It was the same place as always. A quiet spot on the edge of town where no one would notice a cargo-hauler missing. He made sure of it.
An almost regal nod was enough to confirm his suspicions. "That is preferred, yes. Though, if I had to make a suggestion, I would have to say this." She started, pulling her hands away from the shoulders of her strays. An immediate sense of ease came upon the both of them as she slowly walked towards his desk, reaching over as a hand rested against his cheek. "Perhaps it would do you well to consider investing in more specialized personnel. Watching the chase footage was… concerning."
Roman blinked as he stared back at his associate, ignoring the slowly increasing heat against his cheek. "Miss Fall, like I said, I'm a professional. I cash in on my investments." Maintaining eye contact with his employer as all emotion fled his face.
A smirk threatened to crack her face in twain, and as she went to speak, Gray spoke up yet again. "Except for today, you mean."
"Neo, kill that one, please." Came his instant reply. Okay, he knew spilling blood was messy but come on! This kid was a douchebag! If he were to drop off the face of the earth, no one would notice.
"Don't." Cinder's reply was equally as emotionless as his own. As she leaned in closer, her cheek brushing against his, her breath tickled at his ear. "I need him for the next few months. If he proves less than useful, and should you feel the need for his head by then, you will have it. So long as I get what I desire."
He watched as Neo stared at him from the corner of her eye, her hand tightly wrapped around her parasol. Roman let out a sigh as he stared at Gray. "Well, this business venture has been profitable. Fine, you get to keep him. Oh, but don't forget, I do still have that muzzle." Sneaking in some snark of his own.
"That won't be necessary. By our next meeting, he shall have learned to behave more. Is that not right, Mercury?"
Gray only lowered his head. "Yes, Ma'am."
Roman may have had his complaints about Cinder, but man did she know how to rangle rowdy kids.
"Now then, if there's nothing else, I'd like to get back to work." The ginger thief followed up, silently hoping that his associate had no more need of his services. There were things that needed doing, like organizing a search for a decent wheelman.
The sharpness behind Cinder's eyes faded as her usual confident smile took its place back on her face. "That will be all, Roman. Do make sure to complete the delivery within the next three days. After all, we're all on a tight schedule." Some part of him wanted to roll his eyes. Three days?
"You'll have your dust by tomorrow." He replied, pulling together the loosely organized papers before stuffing them in a draw built into his desk. For what he had in mind, he was going to need his desk cleared off. "A pleasure doing business, as always. Oh, and next time, do call ahead of time. I'd like to make sure I don't have to set aside valuable planning time for your needs."
A near silent chuckle escaped Cinder's lips as she stared at the hunched-over thief, watching as he pulled folded paper from his desk. "I'll strive to call you in the future should I need your services again. Perhaps I might call on you, even when I don't." A hint of amusement touching upon her normally regal tone.
"Neo, do you mind escorting our guests out of the warehouse? I'd do it myself, but I'm a little held up." His emerald eyes stared at Neo from the corner of his eyes, watching as she gave a subtle nod. Not a second later, and the sound of heels clacking against concrete was enough of a response.
Neo's footsteps were soon accompanied by not just one pair, not two, but three pairs of footsteps. As the sounds grew distant, Roman let out a sigh as he sat back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his eyes. That was not what he wanted to deal with right now.
Cinder's money was fantastic, but the way she conducted her business left something to be desired. Despite the mask that she put on, he knew full well what she was like. Behind the amicable face that she liked to wear, Cinder was pushy, demanding, and on the worst of days, annoying. The way she carefully picked her words was just another thing to add to the pile of headache-inducing problems.
"Consider investing in better personnel, huh? Well, excuse me that I don't have the time to go around and pluck street rats off the side of the road." Roman muttered, reaching down before plucking his cigar from the floor. The ember had all but been snuffed, and it wasn't like Roman could just light it back up.
With a sigh, he pulled his keys from his coat pocket, carefully scraping off the ash from the end of his cigar with the key to his warehouse. Though, even with the excess ash gone, there was still ash within the cigar wrap itself. Taking a deep breath, Roman took his time carefully digging out the white ash, the last thing he wanted to do was tear the wrap. After all, what good was a Vacuan Cigar if the wrap was torn? That would be like drinking from a straw, but the straw had a crack in it.
Soon enough, he found the beginnings of honest tobacco, smiling to himself as he set his keys on the desk in front of him. He went through the process of relighting his cigar, using the flame of his lighter to heat the wrapper's edge. The cigar eventually sparked back to life, and with a very delicate tug, he watched the cherry light up. The familiar sweet flavor of chocolate filled his mouth as he felt his heart rate slow.
Though, as he let go of the smoke that slowly pooled at the back of his mouth, a thought crossed his mind. "Street rats..? Wait a minute, hold on. If I were a street rat, where would I be? With other street rats." The ginger thief stood from his seat, slowly letting the smoke fill his mouth. "Now, where do street rats all congregate? The garbage. Alright, South End, got it."
His loafers clacked against the concrete floor as he paced behind his desk, tapping a finger against his chin. "If I were a street rat with an adrenaline kick, specifically in the South End, where would I go?" Roman muttered, continuing his pacing. If only he had a decent contact in South End to… Wait a second.
Roman's emerald eyes widened as he frantically went through the drawers of his desk, pulling out dozens of paper folders, all of them filled with years of information. Investments, deliveries masked by otherwise inconspicuous titles, profit margins, and so on. But what the thief had his mind set on the most was a very particular set of regional investments.
"Come on, I know I've got it around here somewhere- Ah! There you are." A wide smile tugged at his lips as he set the yellow folder atop the stack. Flicking it open, he went through pages upon pages of profiles, locations, and most of all, transactions. Transactions like paying off a certain group of uniformed individuals to stay away from a very specific place in South End.
The sound of heels impacting against concrete was enough to pull him away from his papers, looking up to find a very confused Neo. Her brow reached for the roof as her eyes flicked between his pile of folders and himself. Her hands raced as she asked a vague question about his folders.
Roman laughed as he let out a cloud of gray smoke. "Well, let me answer your question with a question. What is something that all humans have wanted to do since the dawn of time?" He was sure she'd pick up on what he was putting down.
Her heterochromatic eyes rolled as she uncaringly signed. He had to stop himself from sighing as Neo formed a ring with one hand, and held up her index finger with the other. He didn't wait for her to continue as he brought up a hand.
"No, not fucking, but that's a close second." His cigar bounced against the edge of his lip as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm talking about the need for speed, Neo."
A brow quirked on the shorter woman's face, and rather than changing her sign, she only picked up her pace.
"Neo, I'm not talking about fucking fast either. Get your head out of the gutter, I'm trying to be serious." Holding his index finger up as he stared down at her through furrowed brows. Neo rolled her eyes in response, gesturing for him to continue with her hand. "Thank you. Now, like I said, humans have wanted to go fast since the dawn of time."
With that setup in mind, Roman turned the folder of documents to face Neo, watching as her lips thinned as she curiously stared at them. A thin brow rose as her eyes flicked up. Her hands sent a flurry of signs, though the ones that stuck out were mostly a repetition of the word why. Why show her these documents?
Roman let out a laugh as he pulled his cigar from his mouth, carefully sitting on his chair as he propped his feet on his desk. "Because, my short little friend, these documents give me the details of someone very useful. Someone I failed to think about until now."
His short enforcer tilted her head, her hands half-heartedly signing. A driver?
The ginger man shook his head as he rolled the cherry of his cigar on the edge of the table, watching it fall to the floor. "Not quite. See, my contact is the kind of guy that's connected to people you want to know. More than even me, believe it or not. A few years ago, the guy was barely a blip on my radar, so I sent him a bit of an investment for his business ventures."
Neo's face scrunched as though she harshly bit into a lemon. What was the point in investing in someone that didn't have anything to show for? It was something that she never quite understood, and it only bothered her more that her employer kept succeeding in that regard.
She watched as the thief placed his cigar back in his mouth, the edge of his cigar burning a bright orange for but a moment. "When I started investing in him, I figured he was just going to put up some run of the mill business. Guns, drugs, maybe gambling, you know, the works. Instead, this guy blows my mind by suggesting something a little stupid. He puts down the idea that he wants to run some mechanics and chop-shops." And honestly, Roman wished he thought of it himself. There were more than a few high-class cars in North End that would've been worth their weight in parts.
The master thief watched as his close associate tapped her foot against the floor, her hands resting on her hips as her lips curled downward. Honestly, Neo could be so impatient sometimes.
"You know, you could always try connecting the dots, Neo. It's not like a little bit of critical thinking skills would hurt you." In response, Neo deadpanned, holding up the universal sign of general anger. You know, the one with the middle finger. "Fine, fine, spoil sport. This contact of mine has a particular fondness for car meets and street races, and with my money, decided to throw his hat in the ring."
Heterochromatic eyes squinted as Neo brought a hand to her chin. But how was a car meet supposed to make money? The only thing she could imagine coming out of it was- Her eyes suddenly widened as she laid her left hand out in front of her, palm facing up. She followed this by bringing her other palm to slide across it, repeating the gesture until Roman caught on.
A grin threatened to split Roman's face in half. "Now you're getting it. The races themselves don't make money, it's the gambling that does. Racers show up, pay an upfront cost to get in, and then people gamble on who will win. If I wanted to run something cheap and cozy, that's probably what I'd do."
Frankly, Neo was glad he didn't want to run something cozy. She wasn't sure if she could handle the boredom. There was just something so exciting about running headlong into a dangerous job. The feeling that any job could lead to her imprisonment or death was fascinating to her.
The gentleman thief rolled his eyes as a familiar glint shone in Neo's eyes. "You and your death wish." He muttered, shaking his head as he ignored the glare that she shot him. "Right, well I think it's about time that I cash in on an investment. How about we pay my contact a little social call?"
Neo clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she stared at the roof. On the one hand, they'd just gotten back from a botched job, and honestly, she just wanted to collapse and go to bed. On the other, the night was still young, and if she left Roman alone, he was probably going to get himself in trouble. Again.
She held her hands out at her sides as she shrugged, a smile on her face as she shook her head. Fine, she supposed she could go with him. After all, what would he do without her?
Emerald eyes deadened as they stared at Neo's antics. "You're thinking something weird again, aren't you?"
The gremlin's smile widened as she pointed at herself? Who, her? Never.
Roman let out a sigh as he shook his head. Oh well, leave it to Neo to think of something weird. As the sweet taste of cigar pooled at the back of his mouth, a sudden bitterness threatened to seep into his taste buds. He pulled his cigar out through furrowed brows, staring down to find that he'd reached the last third of his cigar.
"Huh." He must have been losing his touch. Either that, or he was so busy that he failed to pay attention to his cigar. His shoulders slumped as he dropped the cigar at his feet, crushing it beneath his loafer. "What a bad way to end a cigar. Oh well, there's always next time to get it right."
Pushing himself to his feet, he grabbed hold of his cane as it leaned against his desk. "Well, let's go make that social call." Twirling his cane as he walked past his desk, carefreely making for the exit of his warehouse. The sound of heels clicking behind him was enough for him to know that Neo was in tow.
You know, for some reason, something just clicked with him. This was a good idea. He wasn't sure why, or perhaps even how, but something about it just clicked. Knowing that, he couldn't help but feel like retirement just might be around the corner.
At that, he smiled wider.
And that's going to do it for this chapter. Thank you very much for reading this time, and I hope this is a good enough kickoff for the slow and steady rise of action that this story will see in the future.
It might not be what was wanted, as I'm sure some of you were hoping to see Yang and Jaune having fun on their day to day things, but I can't just write that, you know? Either way, I'm sure you'll understand what I'm putting down soon enough.
Next chapter should be out two weeks from now. If it's not, I either overslept, or I'm dead. Hopefully, neither of those happen. Now then, I suppose I should get on to the obligatory self-shilling.
Leave a follow, favorite, and if you want, a review. It helps spread the story around a little bit, and I've been watching my traffic stats, so I know there's more than just a couple of you. Either way, it'd be neat if this little story got a few more follows, if only for the sake of traction.
That, and it gives me the happy chemical.
Anyway, that's all for now. Stay safe, drink water, tell your family you love them, and I'll see you in two weeks.
Ciao, y buenas noches.
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