2 years later

A radio sat undisturbed on the counter next to the bed, displaying the current time of 7:29 even as it ticked away the seconds. Moments later, if flickered and changed to 7:30, and then it came to life, beeping annoyingly in an effort to awaken the single occupant of the room. For a moment, the only response was a groan of misery, and then the young man sat up, glaring at device that so wanted to disturb him. Regardless, he flicked the thing off and dragged himself to his feet, stretching out as he examining himself in a nearby mirror lazily. Dull, gray eyes stared back at him, even as his ash colored hair stuck out wildly. His eyes examined the scars along his body, rewards earned for jobs that hadn't gone as planned, before he made his way into the bathroom and went through the daily ritual of getting himself ready for the day ahead.

As he exited back into the bedroom a half-hour later, towel wrapped around his waist, his scroll, thrown haphazardly onto a desk the night before, vibrated softly. He snatched up the device and tapped away at it, a grin growing on his face as he read the message waiting there for him.

Cafe on 1st Ave. 1000. Don't be late.

He dressed quickly yet carefully, black dress shoes, black suit pants, a collared white dress shirt, grey waistcoat and a simple blue tie to complete the effect. While two years ago he could have sworn that he wouldn't be caught dead in something this stuffy and upper-class, nowadays it had become the norm. His boss preferred a "class act" over simple, vulgar violence. Even if it inevitably ended up that way half the time anyway. Still, it did serve to leave a lasting impression on those they robbed. The man collected a few loose articles, his scroll, a pair of black gloves, his wallet, and a pair of sunglasses, pocketing each before smoothing down his tie and heading for the door. As he stepped out into the hallway, he glanced back into the hotel room one last time, noting the time to 8:28. Two minutes early. Not bad.

An hour and a half later, and the man was strolling up to the café, sunglasses in place over his eyes. 10:00, on the dot. He easily caught sight of his "associates", each dressed similarly to himself with slight... modifications. As he approached, the first to greet him, with a slight nod of his fedora-clad head, was the largest of the four present, easily towering over his fellows. Underneath his hat, shown only to those the older man trusted, were a pair of wolf ears, and part of the reason the man was so valued on the team. The other was his considerable skill with weapons of any and all kinds, gained from the years he'd spent as a White Fang operative. When you were in a pinch, he was the one to break you out. He was also the source of much of the younger's knowledge of his chosen profession, and had been the one to show him the proper way of handling a variety of weapons and situations.

"Asher."

"Bruno. Been a few weeks. Hope we get a big job this time. I see Ianthe over there too. How've you been?"

"Bored out of my skull. You lot poisoned me, you know that? Can't get any of the rush when there's not a cop in sight."

The woman, only few years older than Asher, was fiddling with her scroll, likely making adjustments to her equipment. Ianthe was the crew's "entry" specialist. When you needed to get into something, whether it was a bank vault or a locked computer, it was best left to her. She prided herself on never being kept out of something for long, and had so far proven her statement true. She was the newest of the accepted members of the crew, having joined a year after Asher himself. Her own change to the uniform was a thick muffler wrapped around her throat and mouth.

"Because we haven't heard that every time we meet. I missed you to, Ianthe."

"Hi! I'm Col-"

"No. Until we know you're sticking around, you're the New Guy. Got it?"

"Uh... yeah?"

"At least he pays attention. Anyone know where Slate is?"

"I'm right here, Asher. Running it a little close, aren't we?"

The much older man appeared as if from nowhere, dressed similarly to everyone else with a briefcase in one hand. The mastermind and leader of the criminals, he was the one who'd found Asher two years ago, and had given him a shot even without really knowing him. He was always the one to find the jobs, and was also the one to usually plan them out, although he encouraged input from everyone. Still, in his advancing years, he generally stuck to a support role, letting the younger members handle the physical work necessary unless he was absolutely needed. He slid his burden onto the table and sat down, even as the rest gathered around expectantly. As he always did, the leader of their crew made a show of slowly unlocking and opening the briefcase before handing to each a folder containing the info for the next job. The table descended into silence as each read what they'd been given, before Ianthe gave a low whistle.

"Well, boss. I gotta say, this is some daring stuff."

"I agree. A Schnee Dust Company payroll? Wouldn't they just move that stuff electronically?"

"You'd think. However, you can't exactly pay workers that don't have bank accounts electronically. Especially those you're paying below minimum wage. Therefore, they have to move the money physically to some of their more remote mining camps. As it so happens, I'm aware that said money will be passing through the city, and will, for a single day, be resting in one of our local banks."

"One of, boss?"

"Yes, Bruno, one of. While I know it'll be in the city, I can't be sure which bank, or when exactly it'll be here. Therefore, we'll need to do some digging before we can get start the our routine. We can at least be sure to prep the tools of our trade, though. Ianthe, can I leave that to you?"

"I got it. The usual toys will be ready and waiting."

"Thank you. Bruno, I'll need you to come with me to meet up with some friends of mine, we'll be needing a reliable getaway this time around. Perhaps multiple. We'll bring the new guy along as well. Won't hurt to have him learn some of the less exciting of our trade. Asher, can I leave handling the location to you?"

"Whatever you need, boss. Should I go to the Old Man?"

"No. He's gone to ground after the police nearly sniffed him out... Who was the one we used for the jewelry heist a month ago?"

"Uh... Junior? You sure boss? He seemed kinda..."

"His information was good, and that's all we need. You still have some lien left over from our last job?"

"Yeah, about five thousand. Don't worry, boss, I'll take care of it.

"I trust you, Asher. That should be it for now. Remember to alert me the moment you're all ready to meet up again. This concludes today's session."

As if on cue, all the participants stood and disappeared in different directions, assigned to their tasks, except for one, the newest member, who simply looked very confused at everything that had just occurred in front of him before hastily rising from his seat and jogging after Slate. Asher, for his part, barely looked back at all, mind already forming his own plan to track down Junior. While he was certain he wouldn't be too difficult to find, you still had to ask the right people. And sometimes the right people were the unsavory kind.

It was nearly one in the afternoon before Asher had found the kinds of people he need to talk to. The particular one's he'd found were some of the normal street scum, dressed in rags and barely able to keep their heads above water. However, they would know where he could find someone local, like Junior, and that's what Asher wanted. Still, talking to them was sometimes like talking to a brick wall, and he could only hope this time wouldn't devolve into violence. All told, however, he was still going to have to talk to the six thugs waiting around at their meager excuse for a hideout, here in a back alley hidden away from public view. Asher took a deep breath, immediately regretted it, and strode forward, plastering a pleasant smile on his face.

"Hello, boys! Nice day for a walk, isn't it?"

"What the hell do you want?"

"Hey! No need to get so angry. I'm just here to get some information, that's all. I need to find someone named Junior."

The name put the thugs on edge, and Asher could feel the tension increase. He sighed before putting his hands up as a gesture of peace, not particularly keen on getting into any brawls. Of course, he hadn't exactly expected them to suddenly get so defensive at just the drop of a name, but that at least said something about the man's reputation. It was certainly better than the impression he'd actually gotten from the man himself.

"So, uh... you need to frisk me now, or...?"

"We don't deal with Junior! Beat it, idiot!"

"I didn't ask you to deal with the guy. Look, I can even pay yo-"

"I said beat it!"

The loudmouth, apparently the only one who could speak for the gang as a whole, stepped up and took a swing at the man in front of him. Unfortunately for the poor man, the one he'd chosen to get into a fight with was trained by someone well versed in combat. As the punch came in, Asher's left hand came up to turn the blow aside and catch the arm behind it. Asher turned to the side, pulling the man towards him even as his elbow came up to meet the thug's face. The result was the gangbanger's nose getting twisted in ways it shouldn't, and forcing the man to stumble back in surprise and shock, which Asher took as an opportunity to snap a kick into the man's chest, sending him to the floor. The thugs all stopped, staring in stunned silence, as Asher straightened out his clothes and picked irritably at his now bloody sleeve. Slate wouldn't be happy about that.

"Anyone else want to try anything? No? Good. Now then, since you seem to be the leader of this little gang, I'm gonna be straight with you. I didn't really want to hurt you, and my boss is gonna be pretty pissed about the cleaning bill for this shirt I just bloodied breaking your nose. And you, well... your nose is broken. Bad day for everybody. I was gonna pay you, but since you had to be so pig-headed, I'm just gonna ask you, and you are going to tell me.

"Where do I find Junior? Or do I start breaking more things till you start talking?"

At 11:00 sharp Asher stood outside a club said to be Junior's usual haunt, the music heard even from all the way out here. He stared at it somewhat skeptically, he personally wouldn't bother with the place, but then again, he wasn't known for his desire to party. Asher took a moment to make sure he was presentable, or at least as presentable as he could with a massive red stain on his shirt sleeve, before he stepped towards the door. Here's hoping the rest of the night would go smoothly.

If only he knew how wrong he could be.

Author's Note- Because now that I've started writing, I can't stop myself. Regardless, next chapter we'll be switching our focus to Yang Xiao Long, as well as modifying her trailer somewhat. Not too much, just snippets here and there, but we'll see how it goes. As always, comments are much appreciated.

Until next time, keep dreaming.