The Name of the Game

a RWBY/The Gamer crossover, SI.

Arc 3: Rogue and Thief

Chapter 10: Snuffing the Torch

The Bullhead was surprisingly easy to control. Aside from the standard pilot's controls one would expect, there was also a point-and-click interface for setting up the autopilot. For instance, I could bring the Bullhead in fast and low to buzz Ozpin's clock-tower, then tell it to gain altitude and circle close by, well within range of my line launcher. Which I did, as I opened the back door and jumped out over the tower in question, firing my line launcher down and snagging the roof, allowing me to swing around lower and come in towards an open window. I caught myself on the window ledge, not quite inside the office—far enough to be safe, if things went poorly. I hoped.

"That was… quite an entrance," the white-haired headmaster assessed, not having so much as stood from his desk or placed his cup of coffee down—to the point that he actually raised it to his lips and took a sip before continuing, as though guests dropped by like this every day. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Headmaster, there's…!" a woman's voice called, a door to the side of the office opening and a blonde woman running in. She paused upon catching sight of me crouched on the window sill, drawing and pointing her Dust instrument. In my mind, it said something to the woman's personality and perhaps her sex life that she would choose a riding crop of all things to manipulate magic with. Then again, Joan had warned me off, and if the Eldest Deadly Sister was scared of her… Then again, both their levels were exactly what I'd expected: question marks all the way around.

Ozpin defused any potential imminent violence, his calm voice washing over the room and causing the witch to lower her riding crop. "I know, Glynda. Our guest was just introducing himself."

The hell I was. I held no doubts that the longer I stayed here, the more danger my identity was in. Digging into my pouch, I pulled out the device I'd gone through the hassle of getting and tossed it to the witch, who happened to be the closer of the two. "There was a break-in at Signal. Someone wanted to know who would be attending Beacon and the other schools this year. Got that off of them. I suggest not connecting it to a networked computer, by the way."

"Who are you?" Glynda asked, an expression of incredulity crossing her pretty face.

I grinned. I had decided to distance this disguise from both 'Jaune Arc' and 'Shiro,' and both of those personas were alternately laid back or subdued. Therefore, something a bit over the top was called for here—in other words, a blistering barrage of bullshit to befuddle the beautiful and the bastardly. "Why madame, what exactly do you take me for, besides a rogue and a thief—a scoundrel through and through? You may call me The White Fox. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"A scoundrel who goes out of his way to protect children?" Ozpin questioned, bringing my exit to a halt for just a moment. It was enough, however, as the man seemed to have gained some measure of the truth behind my misdirection.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer as I sighted in the Bullhead and fired my line launcher, allowing it to haul me up and away from the headmaster's office. Of course, that was likely an answer in and of itself. 'It was a mistake coming here. I should have just dead-dropped it or something. Ozpin didn't get to be headmaster by being dumb. If I screw up around him in the future, he's going to start putting pieces together. Well, at least I went in with Aura Suppression on and a double-layered disguise, so there's that. I hope. …I'm fucked. Go ahead and start planning around him connecting out the dots eventually.'

Climbing into the cockpit, I disabled the autopilot and turned west, for Vale. Crossing the cliffs that separated Beacon from the rest of Vale, I throttled up and dumped altitude. I made a mental note to go after the Duster now that I knew it was there, but for now, I wanted two things—maybe three. I wanted a drink, I wanted time with my twins, and I wanted to get into a fist fight with someone bigger than me. The entire situation had set my teeth on edge and between dealing with Cinder, Kuro, Ruby, and Ozpin I wanted to punch something.

Cinder worried me. The woman was driven and full of conviction, so sure her cause was right that she would wind up killing someone before this was all over. Kuro, on the other hand, alternately confused me and pissed me off. In a way, it was like dealing with a sibling—I knew I had pissed off my own brother more than once by simply trying to look out for him. On the other hand, she had repeatedly stated I was nothing but a job to her. She said one thing, but then turned around and did another and it was getting irritating. Ruby… Ruby was a sweet but lonely girl and talking to her had left me a bit maudlin over the possibility that every friend I had here was potentially due to my Semblance drawing them in, as opposed to earning them on my own merits. And Ozpin… the man was dangerous and canny—a chess-master if there ever was one, and here I was putting myself on his board. He had said barely a handful of words, and yet had managed to pierce at least one of my disguises simply by objectively reasoning through my actions and ignoring the bullshit I had allowed to run freely as a smoke screen. I was not up to playing on that field—nowhere close to it. I never should have tried. What the hell was I thinking? 'Oh, hey, I'll just drop this off personally and be all like 'Oh yeah, totally saved your asses, by the way.' Shit. And here I thought my WIS was improving... No, I know what it was. Hubris. Again. Things have been going well and I've let it go to my head.'

The Bullhead bumped as it hit a pocket of warmer air over the city, bringing me out of my thoughts. I was nearing the club at this point and I didn't really feel like walking all the way across the city. Standing up from the pilot's seat, I dug into my mana and active spells, finding and dismissing Summon Vehicle. The Bullhead disintegrated into light particles around me, dumping me out into open air over the city and the wind hit me like a full-body slap, moving at a hundred miles an hour. For a moment, I wondered what air traffic control would think, seeing a Bullhead suddenly just disappear with no apparent damage. I was pretty high up but passing one of the taller buildings. Firing my line launcher, I used it to adjust my speed and course, sending myself flying across the city through open air as opposed to in a cockpit. The wind, cooling down with the night as it was, felt wonderful flowing over and through my hair and what parts of my face was exposed—once I'd slowed enough to enjoy it.

Dropping altitude and applying drag on the line, I killed most of my speed and hit the customer parking lot of The Club. Dropping my Illusion Disguise and Invisibility, I walked around the side of the building towards the front doors. There wasn't much of a line at this hour and, upon sighting me, the bouncer gestured me forward—apparently, the twins had been kind enough to spread the word around to the staff to be on the lookout for 'Shiro.'

Bypassing the line and smirking at the sounds of protest from whiners in said line, I moved inside and pulled my mask down. With the place as crowded as it was, I could mostly blend in as I was, and there was little to no need to worry about anyone connecting Jaune to Shiro here. The only people that knew, or suspected, were the twins and Junior—and Hei wasn't going to say anything. Moving around the dance floor, I sidled up to the bar and took a seat. I caught the eye of the bartender and waved him over. "The twins still on shift?"

The man looked me over behind his shades for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, they're on the floor serving drinks. What can I get you?"

"Rum and coke." There was some irony there—neither the drink nor I belonged in this world, and yet… Somehow, 'coke' was a thing. I had noticed other things that shouldn't be here, either. Queen, for instance. Or the fact that Ruby Rose made a Star Wars reference—the geeky little thing. I had a few ideas as to that. In one theory, somehow things from Earth were being transplanted here. In another, this was some alternate-future post-apocalyptic Earth. Of course, there was always the possibility that Earth and Remnant simply shared some superficial similarities—same ideas, different place. Maybe Han Solo was a woman named Hana here, and neither Lucas, Ford, Hamill, nor Fisher had existed. I suppose it was something I would just have to look into later—maybe see if I couldn't find a video store or something. Now there was a thought—renting physical movies from a brick and mortar store, as opposed to Netflix or redbox. Now I had to go looking for one, if only to satisfy my nostalgia.

A smirk crossed the older man's mustachioed face as he asked, "In a glass or a line?"

I palmed my face, shooting him a deadpan look from between my fingers. "In a glass, please."

I did not need to know that cocaine was on the menu, really. Never had I ever and never would I. Drugs were not my thing. Alcohol? Sure, occasionally—rarely. Very rarely, when the mood struck. I didn't even smoke. Nor had I ever paid for sex or thrown money away gambling, if I were to be honest on the subject of vices. Somehow, these attributes had all made me boring where I was from, as opposed to being plain common sense. 'Eh, I'm here now and it's not like it matters.'

A warm, lithe body leaning against the bar to my left and pressing itself nearly flush to my side drew my attention to where Miltia had approached to put in drink orders. "And a hello to you too," I murmured, reaching out to covertly cup her ass.

The shorter girl shot me a grin and asked, "So, did we do good?"

I nodded, giving her a quick squeeze before drawing my hand back. "Yeah, you did good. Let me know how that plays out in the rumor mill later, would you? Until then, I am going to sit here and enjoy my drink, and hope someone wanders by and gives me a convenient excuse to bust some heads."

The red-clad twin frowned, glancing around before asking quietly, "That bad?"

"Not particularly," I denied. "It's sort of several things all together. Are you two coming over later?"

"Mhmm," the girl nodded, her frown replaced by a smug grin. "Wouldn't miss it." She paused then asked, hesitant, "You're not planning to get blackout drunk or anything, right?"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "No, dear. I never drink that much, firstly. Secondly, to answer the question I noticed you very carefully did not ask, no, I am not a violent or abusive drunk. In fact, I will go ahead and tell you that I will never, ever raise a hand to you outside of sparring or bedroom-related antics." Thinking on it a moment, as I remembered exactly what it was I had done to the mooks earlier that night, I added, "Or extenuating circumstances." I wouldn't exactly say 'self-defense in the event of enemy mind control' in a crowded bar.

Miltia shot me an annoyed look before retorting with, "I think we've figured out what kind of person you are by now. I was more worried about whether you could get it up or not than the possibility of you getting punchy. Whiskey dick does us no good."

Sending her a flat look, I smacked her ass and sent her on her way. "Don't you have customers to abuse?"

"Eep!" She jumped, sending me a look that all but demanded I make good on what I'd just started later, before sauntering off with a switch in her step that drew my eyes to her ass in a way that I wouldn't have been able to make a Will save to resist even had I wanted to. The twins were fun to tease and rile up—and now, she'd be thinking about getting laid the rest of the night. By the time I got her back to my place, she'd have done half the work for me in working herself up. Hunger is the best spice, they say, but anticipation is the next best thing.

Pulling out my scroll, I opened the Underworld App and began browsing through the listed goods to see what was on offer. I quickly found the section for refills, modifications, and replacement parts for line launchers. There were a whole bunch of options on display for consideration. A set of replacement heads found its way into my cart, followed by a more powerful winch, and an enhanced propellant system tied into a range finder that ran off two Dust chambers and would adjust Dust usage by range to target. I noticed the parts were pretty much modular and so could be mixed and matched how the user saw fit—which was good for me, since that meant I could change it based on my needs. I even found the taser mod Kuro had alluded to, but decided against it for the moment.

Moving on to other things, I found the wing suit Kuro was using, along with several other options for gliding including capes and a few powered options that appeared to be some sort of expensive hover technology. I almost, almost bought a genuine hoverboard, but knowing I would never use it made my choice for me. The wing suit was cheaper and easier for beginners to use—oddly enough, this meant they were less maneuverable than a full cape with its larger air surface, but also faster. It made sense, in a way—you were less likely to crash face first into a building if you were slightly more limited in your turning radius. I made sure to add a manual for the wing suit to my cart as well, thinking with any luck I could just devour it, and if not then I could learn how to use the thing the old fashioned way. The fact that they were faster meant they were the preferred choice for anyone looking to maximize their chances of getting away from someone or some thing trying to catch them. Most grimm were uncommon inside cities, but young nevermore were one of the more common types up high.

Moving on from movement options, I began looking for other tools that might help with my upcoming mission or later on once I made it to Beacon and struck gold almost immediately in the 'optics' section. There, I found what looked like a set of fashionable sun glasses, which were crammed full of more tech than I had seen in one device on Remnant yet. The price tag made me wince and spare a glance at my inventory—I had the money, but damn it would take nearly three quarters of what I had on me. The features, however… if they were as advertised, they would more than make up for it. Telescopic zoom, infrared, ultraviolet, some sort of pulse scan sensor that would highlight electronics and most weapons in addition to passing through most walls, along with an app to control it from a scroll and set it to scan for various things… It would be very useful for breaking into places and I could think of more than a few uses for them outside of that. Tracking, for instance, or enemy detection.

Adding them to my cart, I went for one more selection. I needed a weapon—something simple to use and relatively cheap, compared to what I knew Joan was having built for me. I had been putting it off for a while, but tonight had shown me that I couldn't really waste time holding off on it any more. At least one person had seen a hint of what sort of tricks I had up my sleeves, and while I highly doubted Ruby would spill the beans on me, I didn't want to be caught without a weapon again. Sifting through the choices, I settled on something relatively simple. I had no need of a gun or gun component to a weapon at the moment, so a simple sword would do. The sword I picked wound up being a katana with an extending blade, for use with my Iaido. They weren't the be-all end-all of swords, but they were good enough—and I wanted something distinctive enough to further separate 'Jaune' from 'Shiro' should anyone ever start comparing the two. A visible difference in weapon choice would help that, just as much as if Ruby did spill the beans and tell everyone the Fox had a lightsaber equivalent.

Besides, I wasn't expecting to get into any protracted sword fights to begin with. If it came down to that, I would rather spam a combination of Sleep and Forget than get into it with some kind of sword master. I was not a sword master—my low level in Sword Mastery even said as much. What I was, on the other hand, was a caster, a rogue, and a survivor when it came to fighting. I was not afraid to apply common sense and magic to my battles. For instance, if you're going up against the world's greatest sword master bring a gun—or anything but a sword. Except, well, people holding the title of 'world's greatest sword master' had a bad habit of being able to cut bullets or other things that should be equally impossible…

I was interrupted from my perusing of illicit goods some time later by a diminutive form taking the stool next to mine and rapping the bar surface with a fist. Even from where I sat, with the heavy thump of techno drowning out everything else, the sound was barely audible. The bartender didn't have a hope in hell of hearing it. Seeming to realize this, the girl raised up a bit in her seat and began to wave at the bartender, who had his back turned. Sipping at my own drink, I gave her a once over—white jacket, black corset, pink blouse, brown pants, gray high heeled boots, light pink, chocolate brown, and vanilla white hair, and when she turned enough to lock eyes with me I found one to be brown and the other white. Something about that twinged my memory, but even if I hadn't remembered her by sight the words over head gave her away as: Neopolitan, Level 33.

The girl beside me shot a glance between my drink and the bartender, before sending me an annoyed look. A small smirk tugged at my lips as I failed my Will save against being a smartass. "What's that, Lassie? Little Timmy fell down the well?"

Fists clenched at her sides and her eyes abruptly shifted colors to both pink as her face flushed. Rearing back she kicked one of those pointed high heeled boots at my shin. Trapping the leg with my own, I pulled her closer and grinned. "Well, if that's what you wanted, you could have just asked…" She struggled for a moment before I released her, my message delivered. Turning away, I whistled at the bartender, catching his attention and waving him over. "Another for me and… something for my friend here."

Turning to the ice cream themed girl, he asked, "What'll it be?"

She held up a finger and pointed at a list of drinks posted on the wall behind the bartender. Giving a put-upon sigh, the man turned and began reading the list, trying to find her selection. Beside me, the girl's Aura became visible, violently boiling around her as whatever patience she had appeared to have snapped and she began reaching for the umbrella/parasol leaning against the side of the bar. Loosing a sigh very much like that of the man who had been kind enough to bring me my alcohol, I pulled up Charisma and laid a hand atop Neopolitan's left hand, which happened to be the one closest to me. She stopped reaching for the parasol I knew to be a weapon, her Aura smoothing out before dying down as she turned to look at me with a raised eyebrow. I shook my head. "Oi, barkeep. I think she's after something fruity with an umbrella. Sound about right?" I directed that last bit to the girl beside me and received a nod in answer.

"'Fruity with an umbrella,' right," the man grunted, moving away and pulling down bottles to mix.

Turning back to the girl beside me, I asked, "So, Lassie, can't or won't? Talk, that is."

Shooting me a deadpan look, she took out her scroll and began typing before turning it around so I could see—and suddenly assuming a sheepish look as it appeared she only now remembered she had the thing. 'I can speak perfectly fine, thank you very much. I simply choose not to.'

Reading it over, I looked over the device and locked eyes with her, putting all the sarcasm I could muster into my next words. "Sounds like a great idea, when you're in a club blaring techno at a volume typically reserved for aircraft engines."

"Ass," she grunted quietly, taking her scroll back and turning away to pout.

My grin only went that much wider. "And yet, I got you to speak, didn't I?" She sent a halfhearted glare my way and I gave an unrepentant shrug. "So, you look about as pissed as I feel. Want to talk about it? I've been told I'm super approachable, in a totally not creepy kind of way."

She snorted, propping one hand on the bar and leaning her head against it as she turned to regard me. "You're an ass."

"I thought we'd established this already, Lassie," I snarked back. "Either your memory's failing, or you did things backwards—getting drunk before going to a club."

"My. Name. Is. Neo," she ground out and I couldn't really blame the alcohol for failing that particular Will save as I laughed, before abruptly slapping a hand over my mouth and attempting to stifle myself before she tried to kill me. "I think I hate you."

"Not as much as you hate someone else, if you're here and all moody as opposed to there," I pointed out as the barkeep arrived with a glass of something pink and smelling of more rum than my rum and coke.

"A strawberry sunrise for the lady," he pontificated, rolling his eyes.

Neo's hand came back in what was clearly intended to become a backhanded slap and I likely saved the bartender's life from a critical bitch slap by reaching out and taking her hand. "Be nice," I warned, pointing at the drink as the barkeep moved off. "He technically got your order right, since you were all pissy and refused to say what you wanted. Drink that, and if it's not to your liking I'll get the next one."

Yanking her hand back, Neo looked for a moment like she was seriously contemplating using it on me, before she sighed and took up the drink. Bringing it to her lips—strawberry pink lips, I noticed distractedly—she sipped it once before smacking her lips and thinking it over. Finally, she shot me a sidelong glance and asked, "If I drink it all and say I don't like it anyway, are you going to keep up your end of our deal?"

"A deal implies mutual agreement of terms and an exchange of goods and/or services between two or more parties," I countered. "That was less a deal and more of an offer. And yes, I will buy you one drink if you don't like that one. I'm not paying for all of your drinks. I'm not some sucker you can con into buying your drinks for you on the off chance of getting into your pants. I've got better ways of getting into your pants than liquoring you up."

Neo snorted softly before downing half of the strawberry pink drink in one long pull. "And how would you do that, exactly?"

"Oh, that's easy," I chuckled. "I don't have to convince you to let me into your pants. I just have to convince you that having me in your pants would be more entertaining than out of them—after that, it'll be you trying to get into my pants."

"As if," Neo denied. However, after a moment of sipping her drink in contemplation, she shot me a sidelong look and asked, "And what is it that you think will convince me that I want in your pants, pray tell?"

I smirked slightly. I had already completed one phase of doing exactly that, by putting the idea in her head. Now that she was thinking about it, curiosity would do much of the work for me—just as Miltia would be stewing in her own juices for the rest of the night. Sometimes, things really were as simple as understanding basic human nature. I'd had a girlfriend or two that had used the tactic to great effect against me—and likely other men, I'd soon figured out—and had swiftly picked up on the trick and turned it to my own uses. Instead of telling her that, however, I downed the rest of my drink and turned to face her.

"Well, first, I'm going to wait for you to finish that," I said, pointing to the drink in her hand. I was not a master manipulator by any means, but an understanding of the basics and an unfairly high charisma modifier gave me a lot of leeway. This was another of those basics that applied to dealing with people in pretty much any situation—imply a command, convince them to follow it, and they will be more inclined to do so in the future, usually without having to be asked. It helped that, in general, people wanted to be lead.

Neo, despite her brash attitude at the moment, struck me as a follower as opposed to a leader. The twins were, too, to be honest. And there was nothing wrong with that. For most of my life, I had been as well—until I got old enough to mature out of it and go my own way. I still wasn't a 'type A' personality, but the idea of following orders from someone assuming they were a superior or in a position of command over me grated on my nerves—even more when that assumption lacked any basis in reality. Maybe that was part of why I felt so much resentment every time I compared Remnant to Earth—all the little instances of 'could-have-been but never-was,' if only people had just decided to be decent to each other. 'Remnant, not Earth. Remnant,' I reminded myself.

Neo's glass clinked as it returned to the bar, empty. Turning chocolate and vanilla eyes on me, she asked, "And then?"

Standing, I took her hand and pulled her up, off the stool. I had labeled her as diminutive before and that was emphasized as we stood facing each other—she was a foot and a half shorter than me, at 4'9", to my 6'3" with my boots on. And she was wearing high heels, which had to add at least four inches. She was smaller than Ruby, and Ruby was tiny even compared to the twins. Neo was, as most on Earth would agree, a shortstack. Still, that wasn't really a bad thing. I wasn't hung up on height and she had a very nice figure, emphasized by that corset.

"Well," I grinned, leading her out to the dance floor, "my next step would be to get us in close proximity and engaged in physical activity that would lead to brushing and rubbing up against each other. In other words, foreplay. Or 'dancing,' as some call it."

Biting back a laugh, the smaller girl allowed herself to be lead out onto the dance floor. "And you think your skill on the dance floor is suitably impressive?" she teased, moving in close as we began moving in time with the music.

The twins had tried the same thing when we'd first met, only to have it backfire on them when I discovered that Jaune had actually been a good dancer. In this case, I was putting that skill and the significant boost to charisma it gave when active to good use. It was just a damn shame that 'dancing' to techno music was more akin to a combination of flailing and grinding on each other than actual dancing. Oh, sure, Dance gave me more options than that—which I used to merciless advantage—but I still couldn't think of it as proper dancing. "I do well enough," I shrugged, but at this point I knew the words would be lost in the thump of heavy bass as we were much closer to the speakers now.

Verbal sparring was put on hold for a while as we danced through several songs. Off to the side of the dance floor, I caught sight of Melanie sending me a questioning look and winked, shooting the smaller girl in front of me a glance before meeting the twin's gaze again. The white-clad twin rolled her eyes and made a 'go ahead' gesture with her hand before returning to her rounds. Seeing that as tacit approval to continue, I kept Neo out for a few more songs before we went back to the bar to sit and have another drink. Seeing my particularly smug look, she rolled her eyes with a sigh and admitted, "Okay, you may have some skill."

"Just a bit," I allowed, all false modesty. "And you don't look nearly as pissed as you did."

"That is true," Neo admitted slowly, a contemplative look crossing her features as the barkeep returned with another pair of drinks.

I took a moment to sip at my drink before making my next move. I wanted her to open up and start complaining about Roman, if my suspicions were correct and he was in a mood over the failure of the Signal job. Word had to have reached him by now. Logically, the chain of events would have progressed as: I foiled the job, the mooks called Roman, Roman pitched an absolute shit fit, Neo left in disgust before she got stabby. And right now, with her in a foul mood and me a sympathetic ear, it was an exploitable vulnerability in Cinder's operation. Well, in Roman's operation, but through Roman to Cinder. At the very least, I could try pumping her for information. Best case scenario, I might be able to turn her as I had with the twins, depending on how badly Roman had fucked up. Well, his loss, my gain. Finally, I asked, "So, who is this guy that's got you so pissed?" Chocolate and vanilla eyes met my red contacts and I shrugged. "It has to be a guy, otherwise you wouldn't be so hurt by it."

With a sigh, she nodded agreement and signaled the barkeep for another before downing the one in her hand. "I'm going to need more alcohol for that conversation."

Shrugging, I held one hand up in a dismissive gesture. "I'm not pushing you to talk about it. If you don't want to, by all means, tell me to fuck off."

That was another of those little tricks to getting someone to open up—give them the option not to and they were far more likely to open up, especially if the other person is less likely to judge them for some perceived wrong. The difference between offering a real choice and the illusion of choice is that the risk is greater, but so is the reward—the other person could always simply refuse to open up. On the other hand, most people loved to bitch about their problems—work, dates, boyfriends or girlfriends, traffic… give someone an excuse and they'll complain for hours over the stupidest things, eagerly dropping all sorts of information they usually don't even realize they're giving away as they get more and more heated over the subject. Neo was no exception to that, it seemed.

"No, it's fine," she sighed, accepting her fourth or fifth mixed drink of the night—I had lost count. My own count sat at four, where I would endeavor to keep it for a while. My rum and coke had one shot of rum per glass mixed with coke and ice and I was employing a technique one of those old girlfriends liked to use to stave off hangover and avoid getting drunk quickly—I was eating the ice. Ice took up half or more of the volume of the glasses, making them look more full than they were—a common trick used by bars everywhere to swindle customers out of money on mixed drinks or anything other than draft beer. Eating the ice would both provide water to dilute the alcohol and take longer to finish per glass, so I wouldn't be constantly ordering more drinks. I just wished they had pretzels. Neo, on the other hand, was not eating her ice and her drinks were something like three shots of rum and some sort of strawberry fruit juice. She was also drinking to get drunk at this point, while I was not.

Holding her glass in cupped hands, she opened with, "It's my… boss."

"'Boss?' Not 'partner?'" I asked, projecting equal parts curiosity and skepticism.

Neo snorted, shaking her head and sending chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla hair swishing. "Not partner. Roman doesn't have partners. He has underlings and employees, and occasionally lieutenants. Well, now he has a boss and he's not adjusting well to the concept of suddenly not running the show any more."

I rolled my eyes, giving a short, derisive chuckle to imply what I thought of that. "Sounds like a real… class act."

Shaking her head, she quickly moved to defend him. "He's not always this bad…" I shot her a deadpan look and she glared back. "He's not!"

"Whatever you say. I didn't say a thing," I waved her off. "So, what did this Roman guy do that was so out of character?" I asked, heavy on the sarcasm on the last part. When she remained silent, I realized that was answer enough. Now, how to play this… "Ah. Okay. You're one of those."

Neo frowned. "'One of those' what?" she asked, tone suspicious.

Instead of answering outright, I pulled up Charisma and began to tell a story. "Had a girlfriend once," I began, breaking long enough to take a long pull from my own drink, overtly mimicking her earlier actions to make the implication that I would need a drink to tell this story. The easiest stories to tell, and the ones that are most believable, are based on truth—and this one was. This was also another of those ways to approach someone—appear to open up, to show them you trust them enough to let them get close, and they're far more likely to reciprocate. It humanizes you, in their eyes, and makes you more approachable—not to mention a sympathetic character, if they can relate.

The key is to not over do it and to downplay it. As a man, it's expected that you can't let bad shit bother you. Bad things happen, you learn from it and move on, and get stronger for it. If you imply that it truly hurt you, you become damaged goods in the eyes of most people and women don't want damaged goods—they want a rock, someone they can depend on. And regardless of how unfair that seems to force an entire gender to meet those unrealistic expectations, such is life and human nature—we all want someone better than ourselves. Well, at least that's how it went on Earth. Here on Remnant… I suppose we would see.

I wasn't one of the feminized nu-male specimens overly in touch with his feelings that had been cropping up when I… left Earth. I had feelings, yes, but I had learned to keep my own conscience a long time ago—because, as those 'men' were quickly coming to find out, what women say they want and what they actually want are two different things. Though, in the case of those poor bastards, it was probably more of a case of them not knowing what they wanted, then when they were given the thing they said they wanted, as it turns out they didn't want it to begin with and couldn't stand the end result—but for many, pride would never let them admit it. Maybe it was too much coddling—participation trophies, parents unwilling to tell their child 'no,' schools and other institutions preaching equality as opposed to teaching kids the value of loss and how to pick themselves back up again when they've been knocked down and try harder. Or maybe I was just a relic of a bygone age even in my own former world…

'Dwelling, again,' I mused. Some day soon, I would have to stop that. With effort, I pushed it from my mind and focused on the task at hand. Luckily, I hadn't waited so long as to seem overly reticent to tell the story and ruin the effect I was going for.

"She was always a very up or down kind of person, you know?" I asked, and Neo nodded, a look of recognition crossing her face. Seems I'd nailed Roman's character on the head as being manic-depressive. "When she was up, things were great. Sweetest girl I'd ever met. When she was down, things were… not so great. Stress eventually put her on the downward path permanently, or so it seemed. Embarrassing as it is to admit, she got a bit physical at times and at the time, I didn't really know how to react to that. Was I supposed to defend myself? Was I supposed to just take it? I'm a man, I'm bigger than her—hell, I could have broken her jaw with one good swing. For the longest time, I worried that if I ever retaliated, she would tell everyone I beat on her—and while I'm kind of wiry and don't look like much, she was only a bit bigger than you, so whose word do you think they'd have taken?"

"Hers," Neo answered softly, and I nodded.

In actual fact, it was only twice. The first time, I really had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do. The second time, a few days of apologies and months of slowly deteriorating back to that point later, I ended it. "Pretty much," I admitted. "I thought about just leaving, but she apologized and promised she'd never do it again… Well, that's not how that song and dance went. She did do it again, and I kept wondering 'why am I staying with this person?' Eventually, I figured out the answer—it was because I hated being alone. I could put up with a lot of bullshit, as it turned out. Until one day, I couldn't. She got a bit too punchy one day and I broke her nose and left. I packed my shit and left her bleeding and crying on the floor that day. From that day on, I've had a rule. It's a simple rule, real easy to follow: you hit me, I hit back, and we're done. You don't hit the person you're in a relationship with—sparring, training, or bedroom antics being the exceptions to that." Or mind-control bullshit. "You hit your partner outside of those conditions, it's over."

"Well," Neo hedged, "It was only really once, a long time ago…"

I shot her a deadpan look. "It was only really once. And then it was once more."

Sighing, the ice cream themed girl took another long pull off her drink. "I don't think I want to talk about this any more."

"Agreed," I admitted. I had put the idea in her head, though, and now she would be thinking about it. "How about we go back to dancing, instead?"

Chuckling, she nodded, standing and taking my hand to pull me off my stool. "I think I'd like that."

We spent the rest of the night dancing, until last call was made and people began to filter out, and it seemed both our moods were much improved by then. I hadn't gotten to punch someone bigger than me in the teeth, but I had gotten to spend the night dancing with a pretty girl. The music changed over from techno to noir jazz as it had the last few times I'd been here and our dance transitioned to something approaching traditional dancing. "So," Neo hummed, looking up at me through her lashes and grinning, "Want to maybe… come back to my place?"

I pretended to think about it for a moment, earning a smack on the arm as she laughed and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'ass.' "I have a better idea," I suggested. Seeing I had her attention, I asked, "This Roman guy knows where you live, right?" She nodded, an annoyed look crossing her face at the prospect of being disturbed at home. "How about my place instead?"

Grinning, she nodded. "Works for me. Let me just get my parasol," she began, starting to pull away only to find the white-clad Melanie at her side, parasol in hand. "Oh!"

From the other side, Miltia had snuck up and placed a hand on the shorter girl's shoulder. "Are we having company?" she asked, drawing the ice cream themed girl's gaze.

As Neo switched between the twins, I shrugged. "I don't know. What do you think, Neo?"

"Uhh..." she began, shaking her head quickly and taking a deep breath, in addition to flaring her Aura a bit to gain some sobriety. "You? And the twins? You know each other?"

"We're…" Miltia began, shooting a look between me and her sister.

Melanie finished with, "Sort of dating?"

Both shared a look between each other and me before concluding together, "We have a thing."

Looking between the three of us, Neo's eyebrows shot up into her hairline, her eyes cycling between chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and finally settling on mint green. "Twins…" she murmured, seeming to be weighting the pros and cons of this new development. Finally, she smirked and made an exaggerated shrug. "You know what? Fuck it. Sounds like fun. Let's go!"

I ignored my Semblance awarding me four points of charisma as its bad sense of humor.

The sound of soft snoring filled the bedroom, along with the intermittent sound of slurping. Neo, flexible, curvy little thing that she was, was sprawled out atop Melanie, and the source of the snoring. Apparently, she drooled in her sleep too. Reaching down to where Miltia was sprawled in my lap, I scratched at the top of her head to get her attention and green eyes shifted up to meet my red contacts—I didn't quite trust Neo with that secret yet. Maybe soon, though… It would be a calculated risk, but the payoff would be worth it assuming it worked. If it did not… well, I had options now. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Hm?" she hummed and I twitched, shooting her a glare as she chuckled.

"Stop that," I groaned, pulling her up and away, her lips coming away from my cock with a wet 'pop!' "Much as I really enjoy that, there's something I need to go take care of. Can you keep an eye on things here until I get back?"

Miltia pouted. "But… but I'm not finished yet—and neither are you!"

I sighed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, but we both know our stamina is a wee bit better than your sister's and I need you conscious and sensate for this. I'll make it up to you when I get back."

With a put-upon sigh, the girl nodded. "Fine. But I'm holding you to that. I even have something special in mind," she smirked, shooting a look towards Neo.

"I've created a monster," I teased, getting an enthusiastic nod from the monster in question. Reaching out, I mussed Neo's hair a moment before whispering, "Sleep." Seeing Miltia's questioning look, I elaborated. "I don't want her waking up until after I get back. She shouldn't, but if she does, call me and keep her occupied."

"'Occupied,' huh? I think we can manage," the dark haired girl giggled.

"I'm not sure I want to know," I admitted. Shaking my head, I rolled off the bed and began throwing my discarded stealth armor set into inventory, then re-equipped it. Parts of it would need to be washed, soon. It smelled like smoke. Catching my eye, Miltia gestured me over. When I got close enough, she pulled me down and cupped a hand against my ear, before whispering what it was she had in mind. I'll admit, I actually blushed. Shooting a look between Miltia and the sleeping duo of Neo and Melanie, I had a moment to wonder if perhaps I had encouraged the girl a little much in her kinks. "So let me get this straight… you want to tie your sister up and force her to watch us to make little miss ice cream sundae a banana split?" Miltia nodded. "You know what? I think I can get behind that."

Miltia broke out into giggles, then quickly covered her mouth and shot a wide-eyed look towards the sleeping pair. Neo was undisturbed and other than shifting slightly, Melanie didn't seem to have heard. "Shh! Don't spoil this for me by making me laugh at your horrible puns!"

Wagging my eyebrows, I planted a quick kiss on her lips before heading for the door. "That was an excellent pun, I'll have you know."

"Go!" the awake twin hissed, shooing me away. "And hurry back."

Well, with an offer like that waiting on me, I would definitely not be dragging ass around in getting back. Either in spite of or because of her normal reticence to talk, Neo made some of the most interesting sounds—and particularly enjoyed having her hair pulled. And I did so enjoy the view from behind… Shaking off the thought for later, I threw on Invisibility and left the apartment. The fact that what Miltia was proposing promised even more skill point gains was a side bonus I was coming to accept as something to ignore at this point.

A quest has been created!

Operation Infiltration: A Quick Rise and a Short Flash

You've stumbled onto an opportunity to take advantage of the situation and remove one of the major players from Cinder's machinations. Track down Roman Torchwick and remove him by any means necessary.

Success: 20000 EXP, lien to be determined, companion quest unlock. Failure: Roman continues to carry out Cinder's orders, Neo remains undecided over who to follow.

I took a moment to set up a drop for the item delivery for my purchases for later on the apartment roof, because no one attempting to hide would order items for their secret identity to be delivered to the home of their civilian identity—which itself was a bit of reverse psychology to eliminate the apartment complex as somewhere 'Shiro' might live. That done, I made my way across town to where I knew Roman's hideout to be. One of my first few deliveries before Kuro had come around had been to that hideout, in fact. Now, though, I wasn't here to deliver packages.

Instead of dropping in on the ground floor, I came in from the roof, opening up the roof access door and sneaking down. I passed a room with a couple of mooks sitting around a table and playing cards, despite the late hour, but ignored them in favor of finding Roman. The third room I came across was closed and locked. Knocking, I waited. "I said I didn't want to be disturbed!" a voice called from the other side of the door and I grinned, recognizing it as Roman. He stomped across the room and I stepped back a moment before he threw open the door. "What?!" he began, only to frown in confusion at finding no one there.

"Confuse, Charm, Dominate," I chanted quickly. Really, I probably could have crushed his will with my higher stats without using that combo, but I needed to be sure it worked, and Confuse lowered the target's resistance against mental effects. With Charm running, he might decide to relent against Dominate. As it was, the redheaded man's will crumpled like a house of cards in a stiff wind and he went slack before standing up loosely. 'Go inside. Gather your valuables—everything you would take with you if you decided to flee and start over elsewhere.'

Turning around, Roman moved back into the room and quickly began to pack a couple of bags. I watched as he pulled up loose floor boards, taking out stacks of lien, Dust, and other things—including a plastic-wrapped brick of a white substance I was fairly sure was cocaine. Most of the volume of the bags he packed was money and Dust, in fact, with only a single change of clothes. He found a briefcase with a combination lock on it, spinning the lock to a specific code, and opened the case before dropping the coke into a secret compartment that Observe told me was lead-lined, before filling the briefcase with manila folders full of paperwork. Quietly, I wondered aloud, "Why the drugs?"

"If I intend to flee a sticky death at the hands of that red witch and start over elsewhere, I'll need a sample of the product in order to secure revenue," he explained, shooting the general area where my voice had originated a grin.

Taking up his bowler hat and cane, he shouldered the bags and began making his way out. 'Take a car to the airport.'

I followed him downstairs, where he snapped his fingers at one of the guards stationed in the room just inside the building's front door—a large, brown haired man who looked ex-military, who my Semblance tagged as 'Jim Bean.' "You… what's your name? You know what, doesn't matter. Go bring the car around. We've got places to be."

The guards, clearly Roman's own men and not men on loan from Junior, were apparently used to exactly this sort of treatment. Roman followed Jim outside and stopped in front of the door, taking out a cigar and lighting it as he waited. Jim didn't take long to bring the car around and Roman got into the back seat. Quickly hitting the driver with Confuse, I climbed into the back seat on the opposite side before hitting him with Forget and dispelling Confuse. Jim shook his head for a moment then put the car in gear and took off.

'Put your window down, you inconsiderate ass,' I sent to Roman, and the bastard actually smirked as he hit the button to do just that. So, it seemed that Dominate didn't make people puppets and they kept enough free will that they still appeared human as opposed to mindless zombies. Instead, it was a bit like being able to issue them orders they could not refuse and would do everything in their power to obey—and the underlying spell itself was essentially an order to obey.

"So, boss, why're we going to the airport?" the henchman up front asked and I weighed the pros and cons of simply using Dominate on him as well. No, I needed someone around to spread word that Roman had run off voluntarily. That in mind, I ordered Roman to make something up.

"Well," Roman began, taking a drag off his cigar and laying a hand on the bags at his side. "I'm sure you've seen our new employer."

The driver nodded, sparing a moment to look into the rearview and meet Roman's eyes. "Real scary piece of work, that one is, boss."

"Right you are," the redhead nodded. "She doesn't tolerate failure. Which is why I think it best to move my operation some place less… exciting than Vale. I hear Vacuo is nice this time of year."

With a skeptical look, Jim asked, "You're just going to cut and run?"

"Play with fire, get burned, as the saying goes," Roman shrugged.

The rest of the ride passed by in silence, aside from the sounds of traffic around us even at this late—or early—hour. The driver pulled into the airport terminal's parking lot and I hit him with Confuse again as soon as he put the car in park, then slipped out and repeated the same thing I had done earlier to make sure he wouldn't remember the car door opening and no one getting out. 'Tell him to leave and wait for your call, then go inside and purchase a ticket to Vacuo.'

Knocking on the window, Roman waited for it to roll down before telling the driver, "I'll call once I get set up. Go back and tell the others to get ready to start moving men and equipment—and see if you can pick up another Bullhead while you're at it to replace the one those idiots lost."

Roman didn't wait around the for driver to acknowledge him, turning and heading into the terminal. Following behind him, I watched him buy a ticket on the next red-eye flight out of Vale and then ordered him to go to the restroom. Once inside, I took the bags and opened them, dumping the lien into my inventory and boggling at the amount—Roman had saved up over 120000L in cash, and that was just in his room. I only took half, however—my plans required Roman having a large sum of money on him for them to be believable. Tossing in half of the Dust as well, I asked, "Is that all of the money?"

"Are you kidding?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "That's just what I kept around in case of an emergency. No, no, no my invisible friend. The rest is in an old hangar on an abandoned air field. I bought the place, see, and it's how we've been getting goods and people in and out of Vale. A Bullhead for moving men and merchandise and an old Duster for moving smaller things quickly. You'd be surprised how much one will hold, when the 'fuel pods' under the wings are being used to house something other than fuel," he bragged.

A thought occurred and I asked, "Got the deed to the place?"

"That and more," he admitted, dragging a manila folder out of the briefcase. "I own several small properties across Vale."

I grinned, holding out a hand for the folder, before a thought occurred—if Roman showed up in Vacuo without his paperwork and no one could find it later, someone would rightly assume it had been stolen. Taking it would poke a pretty big hole in the story I was building here. "You know what? Never mind. Keep them. They'll probably sell for a pretty penny, once you get to Vacuo."

"Right you are!" Roman agreed, stowing the folder and locking the briefcase. Above us, speakers announced the boarding call for the airship to Vacuo. "Ah, that's my ride."

"That it is. Come on, we don't want to be late," I gestured towards the door and Roman lead the way.

Passing through airport security is a lot easier when you're invisible, so I actually had to wait on Roman to pass through before we could make our way out and onto the airship. I wondered how he planned to make it through security with all the Dust and cash, but Roman was a step ahead of me, shaking the baggage agent's hand and in an act of sleight of hand I almost missed, passing him a small wad of bills. We walked up the ramp into the airship and Roman found his seat.

'Buckle in,' I ordered Roman as he stowed his bags and took a seat. For a moment, I wondered if I had what it took to do what came next. Logically, it was the best choice. With Roman out of the way, Neo would be left without a leader and I could fill the vacuum Roman would leave behind if I played my cards right. Really, the fact that Roman had hit her had absolutely nothing to do with my decision here. No, the simple fact was, he was an important cog in Cinder's plans and that alone made him worth removing. Getting Neo was really just a bonus—especially since I'd already prepped her to be predisposed to distrusting Roman. If it seemed as though he had cut and run, simply abandoned her to her fate, then she would be more likely to turn to a friendly face for help.

Others began trickling in and I knew I had to make my decision now. "Sleep," I chanted. 'One more spell. Bio would kill silently, with no apparent cause…' I mused, observing the man's sleeping form. No, the risk of being found out was greater if he died than he he had simply fled. Leaving him alive would give Cinder one more loose end to tie up and potentially slow her down later, if she wanted to track him down and silence him. "Forget. Confuse."

'You decided to leave Vale for Vacuo and start over, because it sounded like a better idea than dealing with Cinder.' Outside, the engines began to spool up and I could tell the stewardesses were preparing for departure. When the spell settled, my Semblance let me know I had completed the quest it had given to remove him from play, incidentally granting me a level worth of experience. I slipped out of the aircraft before the stewardesses closed the door. I stood there on the tarmac and watched the craft take off into the lightening sky until it was gone, and I knew things would never be quite the same after this. I had made my first big move against the powers that be and all of my future knowledge was now on a countdown clock to expiration.

BGM Image Song – Styx, Renegade – Unlocked!

I wondered if that was for me, or for Roman—if it was for me, well, the contents of Renegade and Bohemian Rhapsody were similar and it would imply Joan and I had more in common that I'd first thought. The question was, if it was for me, was that for letting Roman go or nearly killing him? Or maybe it bespoke of some future events yet to take place—Image Songs were weird like that in other media, at times.

Shaking my head as I'd never get an answer to that question, I made my way into the terminal and began looking for a directory in the back offices—specifically, one with a scroll number or contact information for the authorities of Vacuo. I was halfway into digging through that before a thought occurred. "Must be more tired than I thought, if I missed the obvious," I grumbled, leaving the offices and backtracking to the security terminal Roman had passed through. Finding the agent he had bribed, I slapped the man with a quick Dominate and began issuing orders. 'You've had an attack of conscience. Go report yourself to your superior and insist he or she phone the authorities in Vacuo. Tell them you suspect the man you accepted money from was carrying drugs in his locked briefcase and you saw a large amount of cash in his carry-on bags.'

That done, I made my way out of the terminal, sighting a passenger Bullhead making the city transit between the local hubs, this particular one bound for the Agricultural District, which would take us right over the section of the Residential District near enough to the apartment that I wouldn't have to travel far to get there. Firing my line launcher, I snagged the Bullhead and let it pull me up and away, reeling myself in until I could stick to the hull. Once we were over the Residential District, I pushed off from the hull in a Leap and fired at a building that would whip me around and send me towards the apartment.

As I came in for a landing on the apartment roof, I spotted a familiar black-clad form and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course they would assign Kuro to make my deliveries—we were supposed to be working together and having her do it would be more practical than sending someone else for a number of reasons. Touching down into a roll, I watched as her head turned to track the sound and dropped Invisibility. Striding over, she began pulling packages out of her backpack. "Cash up front," she demanded, all business. Luckily, I had planned for this in advance, and already had the money needed in my side pouch. Pulling it out and handing it over, she took a moment to count it before deciding it was all there. "How much of this is for her job?" she asked, tone carefully neutral.

"Not much," I admitted.

Sighing, she nodded. "Look, I'm… sorry about earlier. You were right, it's none of my business what you do outside of work hours."

"No, it's not," I agreed shortly, picking up my packages and stowing what I could in my side pouch. "But I get it. I appreciate that you're worried. I'll be careful."

"I suppose that's the best I can hope for," she allowed. "Make sure you sign that you got the packages on your scroll," she reminded me before taking off.

Throwing on Invisibility, I waited a few minutes to be sure she was gone before opening an ID on top of the door to the apartment complex, slipping inside, then destroying the ID—that way, even if she was waiting somewhere far enough that I couldn't see or sense her, she wouldn't see the door opening. Entering my apartment, I dropped Invisibility and opened my packages, throwing everything into inventory to deal with later. There was one more thing I needed to take care of before I could consider my alibi truly secure. Moving into the bedroom, I found Miltia reclined on the bed, reading a book on her scroll.

"You're late," she accused and I nodded.

"Sorry," I apologized, moving to the side of the bed and taking her scroll to set it aside. Seeing I had her full attention, I asked, "Do you trust me?"

Biting her bottom lip momentarily, she slowly nodded. "We both do."

"Then hear me out," I asked, and she gave another nod. Hitting Melanie and Neo both with Sleep to make sure they wouldn't be waking up for this, I began. "I did something… took care of a problem before it could become one. You and I are the only ones who know anything about it, and while I trust you not to spill my secrets willingly, there's a lot you could give away unwillingly."

"So what are you suggesting?" she asked, sounding a bit anxious but not really worried.

I pulled my mask down and ran a hand through my hair to buy time to figure out a way to word it, until deciding that being blunt may work best. "I want to put you to sleep and erase your memory of everything after those two passed out," I said, gesturing towards the pair of Neo and Melanie. "As far as you'll know, we all fell asleep together."

Humming in thought, Miltia turned it over in her mind before she asked, "Have you ever done this to us before?"

"No. I've never had a need to, before now," I admitted.

"But you're asking, instead of just doing it," she pointed out, and I nodded. Smiling, she reached out and took her scroll back from where she'd set it down. Opening what she had been reading, she reversed it by several pages before closing the scroll and putting it down again. On my questioning look she shrugged. "If you're going to make me forget, it would raise questions if I found my book several pages past where I last remembered being." Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I'm ready." I reached out and ran my hand through her hair and she suddenly shot up. "Wait!"

"What?" I asked, wondering if she'd forgotten something else.

No, as it turned out, she had something else in mind. "You're still going to keep your end of our deal, right? What we talked about earlier?"

"Banana split?" I asked with a grin and she nodded. "Yeah."

Sighing, she flopped back down. "Okay. Good. We're good!"

"Little pervert," I teased, laughing.

Miltia nodded. "Your pervert, though."

Rolling my eyes, I cast, "Sleep." Her eyes fluttered for a moment before she lost the fight and passed out, that small smile still in place on her lips. Focusing on what I needed to remove, I whispered, "Forget."

The spell took effect and I sighed, opening up my inventory and unequipping my armor and clothes before sliding into bed beside the twin and pulling her against me, where she spooned up and relaxed. I slowly released my active buffs, allowing sleep to come naturally as I went over what else needed to be done. At some point in the coming day, I would need to pull off that job for Cinder. Likely, Neo would leave here shortly after waking and head back to Roman's hideout at some point, where she would discover he was gone. By then, if I was lucky, he would have been arrested and the news may be covering it. Cinder would likely also hear about it at some point in the next twelve hours. With Roman out of the picture, she would still need his resources and gang, and the next in the line of succession there was Neo if I wasn't mistaken—which meant Cinder would likely be summoning Neo to her some time in the coming night or the next night. If I pulled off the heist today, I could potentially arrange to be there at the same time as Neo. From there, I would have to wing it.

'Well, it's not like I haven't been winging it this entire time.'