Chapter 3: Fancy Dresses and Crime Bosses

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amber pleaded.
"Mr. Ryder has been expelled from Beacon Academy. He will not be returning," Professor Ozpin said. He nonchalantly took another sip of his coffee.
"Expelled? Why?" Napier asked, a look of worry on her face.
"Unfortunately, the staff of Beacon will not tolerate our students being associated with criminal activity. Good night, students," Professor Ozpin replied before closing the door. The three teammates stood in total shock, trying to comprehend.
"Criminal activity?" Amber asked nobody in particular.
"That doesn't sound like Rust," Napier said. She turned on her heel and marched back to the dormitory. Cole and Amber followed suit, and the sounds of thunder rumbled in the distance.

Rust stood alone on the street corner, his hair plastered to his face by the pouring rain. He glanced forlornly back at the silhouette of the academy he'd once placed so much hope in, then cursed under his breath and turned away. He slung his prized Knöchenbrecher over his shoulder and began trudging off through the rain, his suitcase in tow. He stepped through the streets of Vale, with no particular destination. Walking only for the sake of walking, Rust found himself at the only place he knew he could call home from now on.

Rust could feel the dull thud of bass as he approached the door. It slid open, and Rust was greeted by a wave of upbeat music. He smiled and stepped into the club, walking around the dance floor and seating himself at the bar.
"Give me something hard," he said, turning to watch the dancers enjoying themselves.
"Can I get a please, brat?" the barkeep asked, adjusting his sunglasses.
"Hey, if you wanna start something I have no issue with breaking everything in here," Rust snapped, turning to face him. The bartender glared, leaning almost nose to nose with Rust and growling threateningly. The two stared each other down for a moment, neither of them daring to breathe too heavily, when the bartender broke out into a laugh.
"Good to see you again, Rust," he said, smiling at the younger boy.
"It's been too long, Junior," Rust replied.
"So what brings you to these parts? I thought we weren't going to be seeing you since you started going to Beacon," Junior asked, pouring some liquor into a glass and handing it to Rust.
"I need a job," Rust said, taking the glass and downing the liquid inside. It was warm, and tasted of spices.
"You got kicked out, huh?" Junior asked, taking the glass and refilling it. "I knew your problems with authority would make problems for you."
"Whatever they tell you, I didn't do anything," Rust insisted.
"I've heard that before," Junior said and handed him the glass. Rust took it and hammered back another drink.
"I mean it this time. They said they found evidence 'associating me with criminal activity' and threw me out," Rust said stubbornly.
"I believe you, kid. Crime isn't your deal. But what are you gonna do about it? You can't prove your innocence, and no way your grandpa's letting you back in under his roof."
"I'm not going back to granddad. I'm done with him and his stupid company. Hell if I ever set foot there again," Rust declared.

A day passed since Rust had vanished, and the remaining members of team ARCN had no idea what to do. Cole had vanished almost entirely, spending every free moment in the school's enormous library. Nobody paid any attention in class that day, all of them pondering. What did Ozpin mean by criminal activity? What could Rust possibly have done that was so unbearably awful that they had to kick him out of Beacon? And what would they do with an incomplete team? Cole voiced everyone's concerns that night as he came back from the library, clutching a book he had borrowed.
"We're not going to graduate with most of a team," Cole said.
"What do you mean?" Amber asked, sitting up on her bed. Cole tossed her the book, which turned out to be a Beacon academy yearbook. Amber checked the date, it was over ten years old.
"I've checked every yearbook the librarian would let me at. Not one of them has a graduating team of less than four members."
"So what does this mean for us?" Napier asked quietly.
"It means either one of two things," Cole said grimly. "Firstly, it could mean that without Rust we'll never obtain all of our credits and we'll be forced to drop out."
"And the other?" Amber asked. Cole swallowed the lump rising in his throat and carefully spoke his next words.
"It means all three of us could die."

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," a dark-haired girl in a scarlet dress said with a teasing chuckle. "Melanie, look who came crawling back when he had nowhere else to go."
"Well, if it isn't my favorite twins," Rust remarked with no small amount of sarcasm. "Either order something or get lost, Miltiades. I'm trying to work here."
"Now isn't that a bit of a cold response to two of your only friends left in the world?" the girl in the white dress asked, her clawed high heels clicking against the polished obsidian floors as she walked closer to the bar. The twins sat beside each other at the bar, Melanie crossing her legs and Miltiades tapping her fingers against the counter.
"You know what we like, Rust, now mix up a few and make it snappy," Miltiades barked. Rust growled in disgust and grabbed two glasses, pouring various liquids into them and giving them a sharp stir. He presented the drinks to the twins, and they daintily sipped from the glasses.
"It's not as bad as I was expecting," Melanie admitted begrudgingly. Rust smirked and glanced at the door as a man in a dark bowler hat and white blazer walked into the club.

"It's simple. We find a way to prove his innocence and get him back on the team," Cole said to the group around the lunch table.
"You do realize what you're asking us to do is not only stupid, but also incredibly dangerous, don't you?" Amelia complained loudly. "You could get us all killed! Or worse, in detention!"
"I'm in," Chris said. He crossed his arms and glanced at his teammates.
"Chris, why?" Amelia exclaimed, totally shocked by his answer.
"Rust is their teammate, and they're our friends. Friends help friends, it's how this works," Chris replied bluntly. "Also, as fun as whaling on Boarbatusks in Port's class is, I was getting bored. This sounds pretty interesting."
"I'm in too," Night spoke up. "I know you guys would do the same thing for me, right?"
"I'm coming too. Someone has to do maintenance on Chris so he doesn't break down mid-fight, and who better than me?" Penelope said. The six friends stared at Amelia, who glanced from face to face before finally sighing in defeat.
"Okay, you win. I'll come with you, but only because Chris made me! I'm not getting detention for you lowlifes."
"It's settled, then," Cole declared. "We head out on Friday and bring Rust home for Sunday lunch."

"Torchwick. What brings you back?" Junior asked the man in the bowler hat. He casually inhaled from his cigar, smirking at the sight of the club.
"I thought I'd drop by and say hello, perhaps have a drink and a chat with your new employee," he said, gesturing to Rust with his cane. Rust craned his neck, trying to listen in.
"Whatever you're planning, Roman, leave Rust out of it," Junior said.
"And why should I? The poor boy's down in the dumps after getting kicked out of Beacon. A little healthy rebellion is exactly what he needs right now."
"The answer is no, and that's final!" Junior snapped.
"Perhaps I wasn't making myself quite clear enough," Roman sighed and raised his cane. He clicked a button and the bottom flicked up, exposing a crosshair. He promptly aimed the weapon straight at Junior's head. Several thugs in black suits reached for their swords and guns, but Roman shook his head.
"A-a-a-a-a-a-ah," he mused, shaking his cane nonchalantly. "Anyone makes a move, anyone utters a peep, and your boss here kisses his face goodbye. Are we clear?"
"Yeah, we're clear," Rust stated flatly from behind Roman. His hammer was slung over his shoulder, his finger on the trigger. The weapon itself seemed to be dancing with anticipation, seeking nothing more than to tear the mobster a new one. "Roman Torchwick, right?"
"And you must be Rust," Roman said as he lowered his cane. The crosshair clicked back into place, and he turned to face the younger boy. "Such a pleasure, I'm a huge fan of your work. It takes a special kind of renegade to get kicked out of Beacon, and just the renegade I need."
"What do you want?" Rust asked, his voice dripping with irritation.
"I want you to help me help you," Roman said.
"That doesn't make any sense," Rust replied.
"Just meet me at the docks at 11 o'clock, and don't be late," Roman said, giving Junior an unpleasant smile as he turned to leave.

Team CYAN stood on the roof, waiting for their friends. The door cracked open, and the three remaining conspirators stepped out to join them. Chris stared out into the distance, already wearing his helmet and armor. Penelope turned her wheelchair around and waved the group over to join them.
"Are we ready?" Amber asked as she stepped closer.
"As we'll ever be," Chris replied. He turned to face the two teams as they gathered around him. "Let's ride."

The seven friends approached the airship to Vale and boarded quietly. The ship took off, and a landed about thirty minutes later. The group stepped off and strolled into downtown Vale, with Chris and Amber taking the lead. Cole followed close behind, with Napier bringing up the rear. The short faunus girl pushed Penelope in her wheelchair.
"Where to first?" Chris asked.
"We have to find him first," Cole answered. "It's best if we split up, we can cover more ground."
"Are we going by teams?" Amelia pondered.
"That would probably work best," Cole replied. Amelia nodded to Napier, who relinquished the wheelchair to her and went to stand with her teammates.
"If anyone sees him, don't try to make contact," Cole continued. "Keep your distance and relay what you learn when we rendezvous in two hours. Any questions?"
"We rendezvous here?" Chris asked.
"That's right," Cole responded. Nobody else seemed to have any questions, so he stepped back.
"Alright, let's move out," Amber said.

Rust set his bag down on the floor of the tiny apartment above the club. He was thankful that Junior let him rent it for cheap, but he would have enjoyed having enough room to swing a hammer without taking out the wall. He sat down on the bed and it creaked under his weight. He sighed. He missed his bed back at Beacon. He missed the insults Cole would toss his way, he missed Amber giving him crap for being a slob. But most of all, he missed the gentle sounds Napier made when she slept. That was what made Beacon more than just a comfortable bed and a hot meal. It's what made Beacon more than a school. It made it home. And as Rust looked around the tiny apartment, the more he wanted to distance himself from it as much as he could. Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"It's open," he called out. The door clicked open and Junior stepped in.
"Hey kiddo. You all settled in?" he asked.
"Much as I can be," Rust replied, standing up.
"The twins seem to be happier now that you're around."
"Why wouldn't they be? Their favorite dancing monkey is here to stay."
"Look man, all that stuff with Torchwick-"
"What about it?"
"You're not thinking of going, are you?"
"What choice do I have!?" Rust snapped harshly. "I got kicked out of Beacon for something I didn't even do, then he comes in here and waves a piece in your face? You're probably the only friend I have in this dump of a kingdom, so like hell I'm just gonna sit around and let him threaten you when I can do something about it."
"You're just a kid!"
"I haven't been a kid since dad died. You know that better than anyone."
"You're right," Junior said. He turned to leave, closing the door behind him. Rust tossed his armor to the side carelessly and plunged face-first into the mattress. Tonight was going to be a long night, and he needed as much rest as possible.

10:00 came far too soon that night, but Rust still dragged his tired ass out of bed. He turned on the coffeepot and shut off his alarm clock. As the smell of coffee filled the room, Rust got dressed and did a quick check of Knöchenbrecher. After making sure he had enough fresh ammo, he poured a cup of coffee and downed it. He shuddered at the bitter taste, then made his way out the door.

"You certainly slept well," Roman commented as Rust approached the docks. A small cluster of White Fang soldiers were lounging on various perches around him.
"Fuck off," Rust retorted with a glare. Roman raised his hands passively.
"Now, now, no need to get snippy. Come on, we've got a job for you," he said. He picked up his cane and began walking off, the White Fang following suit. Rust tailed the group, slinging his weapon over his shoulder. Nobody noticed a particularly dark shadow fade somewhat lighter, nobody noticed a smaller boy bolt from the darkness and down the street.

"Where the hell is he?" Chris roared out of irritation. He paced around the square impatiently, his hands clenched at his sides.
"It's been three hours, Night should have called us by now," Amber agreed worriedly. "I didn't want anyone getting hurt on this mission!"
"I'm sure he's alright," Amelia said calmly. "Night's a durable kid; whatever it is, it's probably important."
"I swear I'm gonna-" Chris started as Night appeared from around the corner.
"Guys!" he shouted as he ran up to the group.
"Night! Where have you been?" Cole asked.
"That's not important," Night insisted. "Rust is working with Torchwick!"

Rust came to a stop outside the dust shop. Roman glanced back at him as he read the sign. InDUSTrious Proletariat, it read, and Rust chuckled somewhat.
"Hey, what's the hold up?" Roman shouted, snapping Rust back to reality.
"Nothing. So what's the job you want me to do?" Rust asked.
"It's very simple. We're going to enter the store together, and I'm going to politely ask the shopkeeper to hand over all the dust in the building to me. And if anyone tries to intervene... I don't care, put them through a window or something," Roman replied coolly.
"Great, I'm a freaking bodyguard," Rust thought to himself. He followed Roman into the store, who was greeted by the shopkeeper.
"Good evening sir, is there anything I can assist you with?" the grandmotherly-looking old woman asked cheerfully. Roman and Rust glanced around the shop. It was packed with various dust paraphernalia, from empty vials to various husks of the different rounds available. At the front of the shop was a display case full of dozens of different kinds of dust crystals.
"Oh, wonderful. A helpful, kindly old shopkeeper. Rust, hold my hat while I vomit at the cliche running rampant in this store," Roman said with an unpleasant sneer before snapping his fingers. The doors swung open, and their White Fang companions rushed in. They raised their guns and pointed them directly at the shopkeeper. One soldier placed a device resembling a toolbox on the display case.
"Hand over all the dust in your shop and we won't hurt you," Roman continued. The kindly old lady panicked and opened the display case, then began quickly scooping up crystals and pouring them into the box.
"Hey, lady, slow it down," Rust said, placing his hand on her shoulder. The woman jumped and shrieked. She backed away from Rust, her eyes wide. She kept shoveling crystals into the box, when one crystal jumped out of her arms. It hit the glass of the case with a soft clink, then landed on the maroon carpet. A passing soldier stepped on it and slipped almost comically. The canister in his hand landed on the crystal as he hit the floor. In a flash, Rust shoved the old woman out of the way. He braced himself, his aura raised. He closed his eyes and prepared for the oncoming blast. However there was no deafening explosion; just the awkward silence of several cowering White Fang groupies, an old lady, and a befuddled mob boss.
"The crystals, it seems, are duds," Roman spat as he picked up the crystal. He tossed it to Rust, who snatched it out of the air and promptly shattered it against the display case.
"It's glass," he said, holding up the broken fragment of the crystal.

"What do you mean?" Penelope asked, wheeling herself closer to Night.
"I saw him with Torchwick and the White Fang!" Night exclaimed. His black duster ruffled in the breeze. A hush fell over the group, and the only sound came from the nearby flicker of the streetlight. Amber was completely shocked, but Napier was disturbed for other reasons entirely. Nobody could see the expression Chris had to offer, but it was just as stunned as the others.
"That's wrong," Napier declared. Everyone turned to face her.
"I saw him with Torchwick," Night insisted.
"He wouldn't be working with Torchwick if he had a choice," Napier retorted bluntly. "Something's wrong, and we need to find out what."
"No," Amelia snapped. "We need to go to the police."
"So they can do what? Torchwick is untouchable, the police won't be able to scratch him. No, we talk to Rust and find out what's going on," Cole reasoned. Amelia huffed indignantly and crossed her arms.
"So what are we going to say to him?" Napier asked.
"Not we," Cole said, looking at the short faunus girl. "You."

Rust let his hammer hit the floor of his apartment with a dull thud. He leaned the shaft against the wall and walked over to the fridge. His stomach growled loudly. He opened the door of the fridge and made himself a quick sandwich before sitting on his bed. Taking a bite, he replayed the events of tonight in his mind. After the fiasco with the fake dust crystals, Roman intimidated the owner into surrendering the legitimate crystals. It turns out, they were kept under the display case because of a similar incident in the past. After they'd cleaned out all the dust in the shop, Roman gave him a small handful of lien and sent him on his way. Rust quickly finished his sandwich and slipped off his armor. He still had a real job to do.

"I look ridiculous," Napier pouted.
"You look fine," Amelia replied impatiently.
"Better than fine," Cole remarked. Amber gave him a sharp tap on the arm. "What?"
"Come on, give us a twirl," Amelia said. Napier sighed and reluctantly spun on her heels, the elegant dress she had been provided billowing majestically. The sequins flashed brilliantly in the moonlight, a beautiful jade against the olive green fabric. The jaws of the males in the group collectively dropped at the stunning sight. Amelia smirked.
"Can I pick them? Or can I pick them?" she asked smugly.

Rust stood at the bar of the club, ignoring the merciless taunting of the Malachite twins. He served drinks and struck up casual conversation with whoever asked. Occasionally, he would slide a pair of the odd concoction the Malachites were so fond of towards them. However his casual apathy was shattered the moment the door opened and the last familiar face he expected to see walked in. It was unmistakably Napier, but Rust had never seen her wearing anything like the dress she was in before. It was an olive green colour, with jade sequins accenting it wonderfully. It hung down to her knees, and crept up her neck where it attached to a black choker. A jade sash hung at her waist. She approached the bar and sat down on a stool and placed her hands on the counter.
"Hello, Rust," she said with a smile. Melanie and Miltiades looked at the faunus girl, utterly shocked.
"Oh, hey Napier," Rust stammered, incapable of taking his eyes off her. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"No thank you. But if you don't mind, I would like to dance."
"I'd like that. Just let me go on break," Rust replied. He reached under the counter and placed a small card that read "on break" on the counter. The Malachite twins glanced to each other, then to Rust, then to Napier, completely bewildered. Who was this girl who'd come out of nowhere? Why was she talking to Rust of her own free will? And most importantly, why did she want to dance with him?

Rust offered his hand to the shorter girl, and she accepted it gladly. He led her to the dance floor when the DJ put on a slow song. Napier reached to place her hands on his shoulders. Rust responded in kind by placing his hands on her waist and back.
"You know I can't go back," Rust said grimly as the two began to sway with the music.
"Did you commit a crime?" Napier asked.
"Not before I was kicked out," Rust replied.
"I'm sensing a but," Napier said. Her wolf ears twitched slightly.
"I did a bad thing," Rust admitted. "I was stupid, and I let my machismo get the better of me; now Torchwick has me on a leash and if I don't do what he tells me to, he's going to hurt a lot of people I care about."
"No."
"What?"
"What you did wasn't stupid. It was noble. Putting yourself in a bad situation to protect people means you're a true huntsman at heart," Napier said quietly.
"Too bad your heart doesn't get you back into Beacon. Not that you guys want me back anyways," Rust retorted.
"We're all here."
"What?"
"Coming back for you was Cole's idea, and Amber's been leading the charge. We need you."
"You guys really went through all this for me?"
"Of course. We need you back."
"You guys..." Rust began, when the door slid open. The room went silent as a man in a black jacket walked in. His hair was brown with red streaks. His eyes were covered by a mask that appeared to be made of bone, or a similar substance. Napier froze up, then vanished into the crowd before the man could spot her. He walked over to Rust and handed him a slip of paper before slowly turning around to leave.
"I know you're here, puppy," he said almost inaudibly before stepping out into the street. The doors slid closed and Napier returned to Rust's side.
"You know that guy?" Rust asked her.
"He and I are... Acquainted," she admitted hesitantly.
"Ex-boyfriend?" Rust pressed.
"I'd rather not talk about it. I should go."
"Napier, wait," Rust pleaded, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, and he handed her the slip of paper.
"Bring this to the guys," he said. Napier glanced at the paper, then nodded.
"I promise," she replied. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. Rust blushed, then turned back to resume his work tending the bar.

Napier approached the group, clutching the note in her left hand.
"So how'd it go?" Cole asked. Napier said nothing, instead handing the note to him and leaving to get changed. Cole read the note, then passed it to Amber. Amber read it, then passed it to Chris. By the time it had made its way around the group, Napier had changed back into her regular clothes and rejoined her friends.
"So Torchwick wants Rust at the docks at 11," Amber said. "What do we do?"
"The police are always an option," Amelia offered. She was duly ignored.
"We do what we came here to do," Cole stated. "We get Torchwick to admit he set Rust up, then we get him out of there."
"And hopefully kick some White Fang ass on the way," Napier added.
"Wait, did you just say White Fang?" Amelia asked. Napier nodded. Amelia crossed her arms and glared slightly at the pavement.
"Let's do this."

Rust woke up at 10:00 again that night. Thankfully he'd gotten a bit more sleep, he felt he was going to need it. Once again he turned on the coffeepot and gave his hammer the once-over. He checked his ammo and stirred a bit of cream and sugar into his coffee. It tasted much better. He grabbed a quick snack and pulled on his armor on the way out the door.

"You're late!" Roman shouted impatiently as Rust approached.
"By a whole five minutes. I had to detour; so sue me," Rust retorted. "Let's get this over with."
"Glad you're so eager to work. Come on now," Roman said. He led Rust down the docks and towards downtown.
"So how did you know I was kicked out of Beacon?" Rust asked. Roman sighed.
"Isn't it obvious? I orchestrated it from the beginning. You were too easy to frame," he answered. Rust stopped dead in his tracks and gripped the handle of his weapon tightly.
"You. Did. What?"
"Oh, that's right. I forgot, you aren't the sharpest knife in the block," Roman said with a sneer. "I got you expelled. I framed you for dust robbery. And now look at you, actually robbing dust shops because you're too dumb to know when being a hero is a stupid idea."
"You fucking BASTARD!" Rust screamed. Roman turned around and was instantly greeted by the head of a large hammer introducing itself to his face. The impact knocked Roman off his feet and onto his back several feet away. He clambered to his feet and reached for his cane as several White Fang soldiers leapt from the shadows. Rust knocked most of them away with his hammer when he was struck in the chest by a whistling dust round. He grunted and flew backwards into a nearby wall when a familiar voice rang out.
"Rust! Switch out!" Cole shouted, leaping into the fray. Rust rolled out of the way, and Cole fired off a volley of rounds from his boots. Napier joined in, swinging at Roman with her sword. He skillfully deflected every strike with his cane.
"Little small to be off-leash in the big city, aren't you, puppy?" Roman sneered. Napier jumped back, and several White Fang soldiers approached her. She ducked, and a hail of white dust rounds knocked the terrorists off their feet. Chris stepped out of the shadows, hefting his minigun over his shoulder. Night and Amelia ran out from behind him, joining the battle. Suddenly, the high-pitched screech of an engine was heard as an airborne vehicle settled to a stop in the street. The hatch slid open, and several White Fang reinforcements piled out. Immediately following them was a woman in a scarlet dress.

Cole stopped dead in his tracks as he saw her. Her hair was black as charred wood, and the elegant gold embroidery on her dress shimmered in the moonlight. But what had stunned Cole the most was her eyes. Yellow, like the heart of a flame; with a graceful curve. Eyes cold and calculating. Eyes mysterious and secretive. Eyes just like his. He engaged his semblance, analyzing her down to her DNA, there was no mistaking it.
"Hello, my son," she said with a slight smirk.