Chapter 4
Four Kings
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The rest of the day passed pleasantly. Yang showed him the ins and outs of his new scroll before they bid goodbye to Han and Róta and headed on deeper into town. Hours trickled by as they showed him store after store, being kind enough to show him where he could buy food and furniture but also a couple of places where he could go to entertain himself. Quite a few people stopped to look at him, apparently even though Team RWBY looked positively like a rainbow next to him, he was considered more out of place.
All four of the girls were quite friendly and cheerily swapped contact information with him (apparently scrolls could do that) in case they ever needed to talk to him. Weiss treated them all to an excellent lunch at a restaurant that served up a steak that put anything the White Glove Society ever made to shame, and the manager didn't sound like he was trying to give himself oral because of how special he thought was either. A second improvement over the White Glove Society. He did give James an odd look but didn't seem to be too bothered by it once it had been clarified he worked for Beacon.
Eventually, though, the sun began to set. But as it did, James felt rather odd. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt wrong, even though the day had been nothing short of a treat. "See you tomorrow Mr. Walker-I mean James!" Ruby said as they finished their walk back from Vale to Beacon. "Let us know which class to expect you in." James nodded and waved as they parted, with them heading back to their dorm as they reached the teacher's dorm.
He looked up at his new home. Brand new looking, comfortable, and welcoming. He sighed as he pushed open the front door and made his way to his apartment. "Everything ok?" ED-E beeped behind him.
"Nothing sleep won't fix," James said, hoping that he was telling the truth. "Just feeling kind of worn out." He had no idea what was wrong with him. Towards the end of the day he had still enjoyed everything, but his enjoyment had had a dull edge to it. His stomach felt oddly hollow and it was only getting worse as time went by. He opened the door to his apartment walked in, removed his chest plate and guns and slumped down onto the bed. He didn't bother to get undressed any further or get under the covers. "Night ED-E," he said. A simple chirp came from ED-E as he settled down on a coffee table and went into sleep mode. James waited for sleep to come to him.
An hour later he was still waiting. He tossed, he turned, he adjusted his pillow, he ripped the blankets off his bed, but sleep wouldn't come. He turned over and looked at the ceiling. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his scroll and turned it on. Two messages were three. One from Ozpin and one from someone his scroll identified as "Professor Port." Port's message read as "Ah! You must be the new aide! Ozpin told me about you. I'll be working with you tomorrow in room B112. Class starts at 8:00 AM but I'd like to see you there at 7:00 AM. Looking forward to it!"
Ozpin's message was a bit more somber. "James, I had a talk with General Ironwood and he insists on interviewing you tomorrow." James had a very good feeling Ironwood had used the word interrogate instead of interview. "He'll be by when school gets out, and he has agreed to conduct the interview in my office with me present, so I'll have to ask you to come by when you're done with work. He also insisted you bring ED-E. Thank you for your patience."
Moving slowly, fumbling with the unfamiliar controls, replied to both. To Port, he sent a simple "I'll be there," and to Ozpin he typed "Ok, but if he tries to take ED-E apart we're gonna have a problem. I can take bits and pieces off to show him how he works, I practically put the guy back together when I found him, but if we're talking permanent disassemblement, tell Ironwood I won't be there." He lowered his scroll and looked at the ceiling again. "Fuck it." Getting up, he slapped his chest plate and coat back on. He looked at his guns, wondering if he really needed them after this morning. Deciding to play it safe, he took A Light Shining In Darkness and slapped it into his concealed holster. "Sleep tight buddy," he said, glancing at ED-E before heading out the door.
He walked back down the path to Vale, amazed at how many chirping bugs he heard, and eventually reached the city. James sighed as he walked down the streets of Vale, moving into one of the seedier parts of the city. Seedier by comparison anyway. Compared to places like Freeside, they seemed downright idyllic. Not 100% safe, he had seen more than one person eyeing him in a way that had made him feel reassuringly for his holdout pistol, which was still snugly strapped onto the small of his back, but he had gotten this far without hearing a gunshot. And yet, despite that, he felt a certain degree of powerlessness. For all the flaws with the Mojave Wasteland, you could tackle a good chunk of them head-on. In Vale, he couldn't just find the local peacekeeper, ask for work, deal with a major problem and move on to the next tiny settlement.
"Oh no, there's a large and reliable police force and people don't have to kill on a semi-regular basis in order to get by," he said sarcastically to himself. He smiled. He felt stupid. His discomfort was most likely a result of him being outside of where he normally operated an in an area where things called for a less hands-on approach from those who were civilians. And in some ways, Remnant was better for it. There weren't any bands of warmongering slavers knocking at the gates. And if Ozpin was telling the truth, he still had a role to play, so there was no reason to be like this.
He stopped, looking around. Music and bright lights were blaring out of a nearby building that wouldn't have looked out of place on the Strip, if not for the fact that it looked fairly new. He checked the time on his Pip-Boy. 9:00 PM. Class started at 8:00 AM the next day, and Port had said that he had wanted James to show up at 7:00 AM. He could afford to spend an hour out.
Fumbling through the pouches on his armor, he pulled out the cards that Ozpin had given him as his advance. It felt odd to view the thin, plastic cards as money, as opposed to paper bills, coins, or even the bottle cap. He vaguely recalled hearing about Pre-War society using some kind of cards for transactions, but when Arcade had brought them up, he had said that the cards themselves hadn't been worth anything. These cards were the legal tender of this world, not a medium for the real currency.
He flipped through them, recalling Ozpin telling him how much each one was worth, before taking a few of the smaller ones, tucking the rest away, and stepping inside the bar. Instantly, his eyes were assaulted by bright flashing lights coming at him from nearly all directions. Stopping for a few seconds to shield his eyes, he squinted through his fingers to look around. There were enough people in the club to pass for a busy night in a Strip casino, with the lights being at around the same level. White, bright lights were set up at nearly every angle, and a crowd dressed in bright, garish clothing milled between the bar and the dance floor that took up a good portion of the club.
His eyes adjusting to the light, James lowering his hand. It was hard to say whether or not this bar could be considered "respectable." It certainly looked clean and well maintained, rivaling the Ultra-Lux, and looking brand new. But the customers seemed to be a rather mixed bunch. Some looked like normal people who had just stumbled in, but most of them seemed to be the type that wouldn't be allowed in more respectable establishments. Shifty types, the kind that had been around the block a few times, had visible tattoos, scars, and just generally had a "don't screw with me" kind of look.
Reminding himself that he had A Light Shining In Darkness strapped to his back just in case things got hairy, James moved forward, stepping through the crowd, before sitting down at the bar. "What's your poison?" An utter giant of a bearded man in a dress shirt, black vest, and dress pants was standing behind the bar, cleaning out a glass with a rag.
"Whisky," James said. "I've got work in the morning, so I'd like something that will burn my throat but not give me a hangover."
"You'd be surprised how often I get that request. Or maybe you wouldn't." Ducking down, the man fiddled with something before rising up again with a glass full of ice and a bottle of amber-colored liquid. "Ten lien," he said, filling up the glass. "And I reserve the right to stop serving you if you look like you've had your fill." James placed a ten Lien card on the table, which the man took without comment. James pulled his drink towards him and had it halfway towards his mouth before he stopped. "What?" the man asked impatiently. "Too small?"
"No, it's fine," James said distractedly. Reaching into his drink, he plucked out one of the ice cubes and held it up in front of his face. "There's just some luxuries I'm not used to. Caught me off guard." The man rolled his eyes in annoyance and confusion, but James was barely paying attention. An ice cube. He was holding an honest to God, crystal clear and utterly clean ice cube in his hand. He had heard rumors that a few rich men and women back in the NCR core regions had gotten a couple of ice cube machines working, but he had only ever seen them personally in New Vegas. All the casinos served them in their drinks, but it was hardly cheap. Half the time, ice cubes in your drink cost more than the drink itself. And here, it had just been dumped in his drink, completely complimentary.
Putting the ice back in his drink, he gave a long gulp. He enjoyed the burning feeling as the whiskey slid down his throat, but he had to admit. It was easily ten times better when the whiskey was ice cold. Lowing his glass, he looked down into his drink, lost in thought. There was no doubt that the people of Remnant were used to ice being readily available. He couldn't help but wonder what else Remnant took for granted. That the Pre-War people of Earth had taken for granted before it had all been lost.
"Where's Junior? Where's that ugly sonfabitch?" A man had staggered up to the bar. If he wasn't drunk, he certainly was very close. He was staggering, had a noticeable slur to his words, and sounded very angry. James eyed him cautiously. In his experience, drunk men like this tended to look for a fight, and it rarely ended well. Looking around, he saw several men in black suits and red glasses eyeing the man too, slowly approaching him. Well, if security had things under control, James felt like he should probably stay out of it.
Reaching into his pockets, he produced a deck of playing cards. A game of solitaire while he enjoyed his drink seemed like a good way to pass the time. Sadly, he had barely begun to deal the cards when the scent of alcohol hit, and he found himself almost nose to nose with the drunk man. "Hey, the hell's Junior, asshole?"
"No idea," James answered honestly, weighing his options. It would be easy to quickdraw and get a shot off before the drunk did anything, but he hadn't done anything to threaten James's life yet. He would hold off on that until the man attempted to use a weapon, being an asshole wasn't a reason to kill a man. But if things escalated, he wanted to be prepared. "Look, if you don't mind, I'd like a little bit of space, I-" James was interrupted as the man clumsily shoved his drink off the counter, where it shattered on the floor. James let out a sigh of exasperation. "Really? We're stooping to that level?"
Well, talking his way out was looking like a much less likely option, the guy didn't seem to be listening at all. He lurched forward, grabbing James by the shoulder. "Look, you find Junior and tell him I want to talk to him. He owes me a lot of money, so quit playing dumb!"
Taking the drunk's wrist, James gave a quick shove and broke his grip, causing him to stumble back a few steps. "I have no idea who Junior is. I really think you should talk to someone else, or better yet, just go home. You're gonna do something to get yourself hurt, those guys behind you look like they're losing their patience with you."
Indeed, the men in suits looked as if they would love nothing better than to pummel the drunk into a pulp. One of them reached forward and grabbed the drunk by the shoulder. "I think you've had enough, time to go." He glanced at James. "My apologies sir. Your next drink is on the house." James nodded in appreciation.
"Fhack off!" the man swore, taking a step forward and trying to take a swing at James. James slid off his stool, grabbing it and holding it up in front of him as a makeshift club, but that proved to not be needed. A tree trunk of an arm shot out from behind the bar and wrapped around the man's throat. The bartender from before pulled the troublemaker over the bar, glaring at him. "Yhou," the man gurgled. "Give me my money bhack."
"You lost your money, fair and square," the man, apparently bearing the very unfitting name of Junior, said. "And now you're breaking my stuff. So consider this a warning. If you ever come back here after this, I'll let the twins throw you out in ribbons." With that, Junior easily threw the man with one hand, who landed and skidded a good ten feet across the floor. Getting up, looking broken, he slowly limped out. Silently, James put down his stool.
"Well, I took you for someone who was dead to the world, but you looked like you were quick on the uptake back there," Junior said, pouring James a second glass of whiskey. "Still, I hope you remember not to start shit in my bar. I've got guards for that."
"The plan was to let them take care of things until he took a swing at me," James said, taking a heavy gulp. "Thanks for that, by the way."
"Well, so long as you don't start anything, you're welcome...here..." He paused, glancing down at James's cards. "You play?" James nodded slowly. "Ok, let me be more clear. Do you gamble?" It was James's turn to pause. Well, he had spent a good amount of time in Vegas, it was nearly impossible to do that without gambling a little. And he had gambled more than most just by sheer virtue of being older than most wastelanders. He nodded.
"Well, let me make you an offer," Junior said, clasping his hands together. "Every week, I have a little backroom poker game. 5,000 lien each, just below the legal limit in this city. Ante is 100. Now, I'm warning you up front. You bet real money on this, and if you lose it, it's gone. That idiot didn't seem to get it. So if you play the game, you suck it up and deal with it if you lose. But if you win, you get to walk away with a fat wallet. I only let people in the back when I like them, and I like you a little more than I thought I was going to. Not much, but enough. Interested? You got the guts for it?"
Do I have the guts? Well, he's trying to make me impulsive. Make me loose with my money to prove how I'm not a coward, I'm just stupid. James thought. He could just walk away, there wasn't anything to lose. But Junior here, despite apparently liking him, apparently thought he would be that easy to manipulate him. Him saying that he liked James was probably just a ploy to try and get James to be impulsive and prove himself. He imagined taking Junior down a peg and getting a nice wad of cash in one fell swoop. Grinning, he emptied his drink and held it out to Junior. "Top me off and I'm in."
Junior blinked, then gave a small smile. "Glad to see you've got guts," he said, filling up James's drink.
Oh shut up James thought, looking at his drink and giving it a small swirl.
"You two," he said, pouring to a pair of his men, "man the bar. With this guy, we've got enough players to start. Gramps, with me." Rolling his eyes, James gathered up his barely started game, slid the cards into his pocket, grabbed his drink and followed Junior. The patrons of the club seemed to part before the giant of a man as he crossed it, James following in his wake. Eventually, they reached the far end of the club, where Junior rapped on a plain looking door.
The door slid open a crack, and a young woman in a frilly, blood red dress peaked out. Upon seeing Junior, the door slid shut and the sounds of locks being undone leaked out before the door opened all the way. Junior and James entered, the woman in red closed the door behind them. "Five grand," the woman said, sounding bored out of her mind as she held out her hand. A hand, James noticed, that had long and vicious red claws strapped to it. Deciding to not think too closely about what Junior had meant when he had talked about letting the twins throw the drunk out in ribbons, James produced his wallet. Fishing his money out, James counted out five-thousand Lien and handed it over. The woman sorted through it, looking as if she'd rather be anywhere else, before sliding it into a pouch she was wearing and giving James a handful of chips. "White is fifty, red is a hundred, blue are two-hundred," she said.
James nodded before looking around the room. Three people were sitting at a table, a man and two women, one with antlers coming out of her head, all with chips in front of them. Another woman, identical to the one who had been watching the door with the exception that she wore white instead of red, was on the far side of the table, watching the prospective gamblers. A glass of wine was in one of her hands, the bottle in the other. Silently, James sat down in an empty seat, Junior taking a seat opposite him.
"Just so that there's no whining, I want to make sure you all know the rules," Junior said sourly, glaring at his guests. "Five card draw. You get dealt five cards, you can discard three when the time for that comes, no more. If someone bets, you have to match the bet or fold. The only exception is that if you don't have enough to match, in which case you have to go all in or fold. If you lose, you stay quiet or get out, no throwing tantrums. No wild cards. Aces high. Ante of a hundred, no upper limit. Standard hand values, not up for debate." He gestured behind himself with a thumb. On the far wall was a graph, with all the possible poker hands listed from strongest to weakest, with royal flush at the top and high card at the bottom. James gave it a good look over and saw it was identical to the rules he was used to. Odd, but he wasn't complaining.
"I deal first, then we go clockwise from where I'm sitting." That would make the order him, the deer Faunus, the man, James, and the human woman. "All right, let's get started. Ante up." Five red chips clattered into the center of the table as Junior dealt with a practiced efficiency, and the game was on. James checked his hand. Two nines, a jack, a four and a two. Not a terrible start. "One," Junior said, tossing a red chip onto the pile. Everyone followed suit, no one raising until the time to discard came. James threw out his two and four and lady luck smiled on him, earning him a second jack. The woman in white, circling the table, doubtless looking for cheaters, poured herself a fresh glass of wine.
Forcing himself to stay stoic, James waited as Junior passed, the deer Faunus tossed in an extra red chip, which the man followed.
"I'd like to raise," James said, collecting the chips for five hundred, throwing it in the pile. The woman after him eyed him suspiciously, scrutinizing him closely before folding. Junior did the same, as did the Faunus woman.
"Hey, I'm not stupid," the man said, smirking as he looked at James. "This guy's bluffing. I call." Tossing in four hundred, he matched James's bet. "All right tough guy, show them," he said, laying out his own cards. A pair of tens and a pair of eights. James took them in, adrenaline pumping as he took in the cards before euphoria flowed through him and he lay down his own cards. The smirk slid off the man's face as James wrapped his hands around the pot and pulled them towards himself. To his left, he heard the woman give a small sigh of relief. Apparently, she would have lost if she had stayed in. "Don't get too comfortable," the man snarled. "I'm taking all my money back after this." James made a note to watch out for the man, while still basking in the glow of the 1,500 Lien he had raked in, noting that the Faunus woman was starting to deal.
His hand wasn't so great, only a pair of twos. He met Junior's raise of two-hundred, as did everyone else and discarded the rest of his hand when his turn came, only to get nothing in return. Behind him, he could hear the twin in white taking a long draft of her drink. No one raised until it was Junior's turn. The giant of a man smirked and pushed a thousand Lien onto the pile. Well screw that noise James thought, watching as the deer Faunus folded and the other man cockily matched Junior's bet. Taking his time, giving the impression that he was judging the situation even though he had already made a decision, James studied his garbage cards for thirty seconds before folding. The woman after him folded as well, and Junior and the man laid out their cards.
"DAMN IT!" the man bellowed, slamming his fists on the table as his two pairs lost to Junior's three of a kind. Junior chuckled as he collected his chips. James did some quick mental math and realized that this put Junior well in the lead. Judging by the confident smile on him, Junior was feeling very comfortable in his lead.
The third round started, the man who had boasted so loudly before was shaking as he dealt the cards, nearly throwing a couple off the table. "Could you not?" the deer Faunus asked, sounding annoyed.
"Shut up!" the man snarled, slamming the deck down as he finished dealing. James was starting to realize why this man, in particular, had been invited to the game. After the ante, the man glared at all of them. "All right, enough screwing around." With a grunt, he shoved all of his remaining chips in, all 2,900 Lien. Everyone paused, looking at him. Some of his anger seemed to fade away, and a smug look crossed his face. "Your move assholes."
James glanced at his cards. He had a pair of aces, a strong hand for the first round, but hardly what would end up deciding the game. Particularly if the man already had a strong hand. But did he? James wasn't even sure if he had looked at his cards before he had bet. That, combined with the way the man had been playing so aggressively up until this point, led James to one conclusion. The man was bluffing.
After a few more seconds of mulling it over, James called the bet. The man's smile faltered, and James responded with a wide grin of his own. Behind him, he heard the girl in white pour herself another drink. All the other players folded without comment, though Junior took a lot longer than both of the women. James the man down, waiting for him to discard and draw. He didn't, he just stared at James, shaking a little. "Your move," James said softly. James couldn't help but feel like this would be cruel if the man had not utterly brought it on himself.
Hesitantly, as if his arm was seizing up with pain, the man discarded three cards, as did James. James's heart leaped as a third ace made its way to his hand. "All right, show em jackass!" the man said, sounding more scared than he most likely wanted to. The cards were laid down. Three kings, a queen, and a jack. James took them in, his heart hammering in his chest. That hand had come dangerously close to beating him. If he hadn't gotten his extra ace, or if his opponent had gotten another king or queen, he would've been screwed. He let out a heavy breath that he hadn't noticed he was holding.
"You little-" the man began, moving forward, but stopped as he spotted Junior and the twins all glaring at him.
"You can stay and watch if you're going to be a good little boy," Junior said, venom in his voice. "But if you're going to throw a tantrum, you'll leave my bar through a window at 150 KPH. Your choice." The man stammered before silently lowering his head in defeat, James cautiously scraping up the chips before taking the deck to deal.
"One out on round three," Junior said idly. "This is a faster than usual game." James nodded wordlessly as he dealt out the last of the cards before checking his hand. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A two, a five, a nine, a jack and an ace. Not enough similar suits for a flush, nothing that he could comfortably into a straight. He mulled it over as the remaining four players anted up. He was on a bit of a hot streak, maybe he could bluff his way through this round based on that.
He gave a small twitch in the side of his mouth, imitating a badly suppressed smile, before putting five-hundred into the pot. Enough money for it to be noticeable, but not too much that it seemed suspicious. The human woman looked at him with a penetrating eye before matching his bet as he heard the woman behind him gulping at her drink. Junior paused, studying his cards, before flashing an evil grin at James and calling his bet. Spurred on by her fellow gamblers, the deer Faunus also called, leaving over 2,000 Lien in the pot.
There was an uncomfortable churning feeling in James's stomach. He had hoped that at least one of them would have dropped out, making things a little easier in the second round. The plan had been to double down on his bet in the final round, implying that he had strengthened his hand. Well, that plan was really the only string to his bow at this point, so he had no choice but to press on. Discarding everything but his jack and his ace, James checked his three new cards and saw a Jack. Well, he certainly had strengthened his hand, but it was still rather lackluster. He tried to weigh his options, willing himself to block out the sound of the woman behind him loudly slurping her drink.
Deciding that he had no choice but to go for it, he pushed a thousand Lien into the pot. The woman beside him folded without comment, but Junior, his eyes boring directly into James, silently slid forward a thousand chips, and then another thousand after that. The deer Faunus looked down at her cards, took a deep breath, and matched Junior's two-thousand bet. There was a bitter taste in James's mouth as he took one last look at his cards, sighed, and folded.
Both Junior and the deer Faunus laid down their cards. Junior had managed to get a full house, soundly beating out the three of a kind the deer Faunus had. She looked downtrodden as Junior swept away all the chips. James felt a little sorry for her, before reminding himself that she had agreed to the risks of this game and that it was unlikely she was betting money she couldn't live without. Ok, that didn't work James thought. Either Junior's good at reading people or he had that full house almost put together from the start. Shouldn't try to bluff him with garbage again, just in case it's the former.
The human woman gathered up all the cards and took her turn at dealing, while Junior made a point of smugly stacking his newly won chips. Trying not to look at that, James checked his hand. His heart skipped a bit. A pair of kings and a pair of queens, a pretty strong hand. Ok, gotta play this smart. They may think you're up to something if you start with a strong bet twice in a row. Play it low and come in for the kill at the end. James thought. The twin behind him must have finished her drink because James could hear her pouring a fresh one as everyone anted up.
The human woman raised by a mere hundred, something Junior and the deer Faunus followed suit on. Deciding to play it safe, James met the bet and didn't push it any farther. As everyone discarded their unwanted cards, James removed his odd card out but didn't receive an upgrade to his current hand. The human woman raised by another two-hundred and Junior, to James's immense shock, folded. To a raise that small? James wondered. How garbage is his hand?
This thought was swept from his mind as he watched the fanus woman meet the bet. Deciding that he was in a safe spot to push a little, he made a raise of five hundred. Both women exchanged uncertain looks. The human woman folded while the deer Faunus took a deep breath and called. Both she and James laid their cards out. He barely beat her. She had a pair of queens and a pair of jacks. Slowly, he collected the pot, his hands trembling as he did. Junior smirked at him as he did, leaving James to feel a pang of annoyance that he quickly forced down. He had to keep a clear head.
Junior took the deck and dealt, James being more hasty than usual in his bid to grab up the cards. The human man was out, the Deer Faunus was almost out of chips, and the human woman had been suffering a steady stream of minor losses that were starting to build up. At this rate, it was going to turn into a showdown between him and Junior, and Junior was turning out to be a pretty good poker player. Looking at his cards, his heart sank. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. An ace high card, but that was it. Everything else was a jumble of random numbers.
Slow. He had to take this slow. He weighed his option as he tossed in his hundred, the girl behind him took a deep gulp of her drink, so much that James was certain she had emptied it. Giving the cards a quick lookover, he tossed in three-hundred. The human woman followed suit. Junior put in a strong thousand The deer woman steeled herself and put in the very last of her chips. James felt like someone had just given him a death sentence. He looked at his hand. Junior hadn't bluffed yet this game, so the chances of him doing so were thin. And yet, he had to actually stick around to beat him when he had put money in the pot in order to beat Junior. He would have to take a risk here. Slowly, he pushed the money in. Looking hesitant, the human woman followed.
Feeling heavy, James discarded three of his cards. And then his heart shot up into his mouth as the twin behind him poured herself yet another drink. Two new aces, giving him a three of a kind. Lucky luck was a beautiful, lovely woman. Doing everything he could to keep his face clear, he organized his hand, looking at it with a neutral expression. He wouldn't bet at all, it would look strange if he went from calling to raising, and Junior had proven to scare easily. He checked. The human woman, looking excited, put in five-hundred. Not a massive bet, but not insignificant. Junior folded. James stared at the man. He had gone from betting a grand to folding to half of that. How? What had happened to make him lose faith in his hand like that?
There was no way that Junior could've possibly have seen the hand he had gotten, and the woman's raise wasn't that big. He was just sitting there, smirking at him while his probably underage bouncer was practically drinking herself to death behind him. James paused. He replayed that last thought in his head. Then he turned around. The twin in white still looked bored out of her mind, even though James had clearly heard her refilling her glass several times. Anyone drinking wine to that degree at her size should be on the ground, passed out by this point. He himself was feeling a faint buzz from drinking far less than she had. Yet she didn't even seem slightly inebriated. And she had been standing behind him the entire time.
Slowly, it hit him. Oh. That motherfucker. James thought, slowly turning to look at Junior. His bouncer had been standing behind him the entire match, making a fair bit of noise whenever he got a hand. He wasn't sure why the bouncer wasn't watching the others, maybe Junior knew they were all bad players or they were all secretly on his payroll, but she had had a crystal clear look at his cards the entire game. He tightened his grip on his cards, his nails digging into some of them.
Junior's smirk somehow got even bigger. "Oh don't go throwing a tantrum now, you know what I said about sore losers." Go fuck yourself. James thought bitterly. He glared at Junior as he threw the five-hundred in, the deer Faunus not doing so as she was already all in, and laid his cards down. The human woman cursed loudly and the Faunus looked down sadly, so James was fairly certain he had won. James didn't break eye-contact with Junior as he collected the pot.
He now had more chips than Junior, but it would all mean nothing if he couldn't take any of Junior's chips from him. Even if he played defensively, Junior would use his second set of eyes to wither him down. And he couldn't exactly accuse Junior of cheating. Even though James was sure of it "a girl stood behind me and used her booze to signal him" was pretty flimsy evidence, and Junior would probably just boot him out of the club. So. That only left him with one real option.
Collecting all the cards up, he was slow to form them into a deck. Gently feeling the edges of the cards. "Hurry up will you?" the man that had been knocked out said. James ignored him and began to shuffle. After more time that was necessary, he dealt the cards, sliding them across the table, face down. Both the woman and Junior picked up their cards. James, however, did not. He merely emptied his drink, popped one of the ice cubes in his mouth, before idly chewing it and tossing in his ante. Both Junior and the woman stared at him.
Swallowing the ice, James spoke. "Hey, big guy, how many chips you got?"
"10,400," Junior replied. "Why?"
"Because you don't go all in when your opponent has fewer chips than you," James said icily, counting out that many chips from his pile, before pushing them all into the center of the table. "I bet 10,400 chips. I'm getting bored with this game, so how about we decide it now?"
Junior gawked at him, and the woman instantly folded. "Are you high?"
"Oh come on, where's all that bluster that you had when we started? That talk about guts? Or was that all talk designed to hide that you have none?" James said, putting as much venom and disgust into his voice as he could. "Now will you get on with it already? I don't have time to waste listening to you pussyfooting around this."
Junior's eyes narrowed in hatred. James could see the twin in red looking concerned out of the corner of his eye and the one behind him was probably looking similar, but he kept his gaze on Junior. Then Junior pushed all of his chips towards the center of the table. "Fine. You wanna be a smart guy. Don't complain when it bites you in the ass." He discarded two cards and James dealt him his last two. "All right then," he said, looking at his hand, smiling widely, and laying down his hand. "Two kings, two twos. Thanks for all the money, idiot." Junior reached out for the pile of chips.
"Excuse me," James said, causing Junior to pause. "You haven't seen my cards yet." It took every last bit of self-control for James to keep up an appearance of detached indifference, particularly when it felt like his heart was trying to make an escape attempt. Reaching down to his cards, he flipped one. A seven. He flipped another, a two.
Junior snorted. "Look, I get the whole bravado thing you were trying to go for, but it clearly didn't work out. So can you hurry up and lose with a little bit of dignity?" James ignored him. He had started on the far right card and had moved left, towards the cards he had dealt first. He put his hand on the third card and felt the smooth texture, the cool touch, and the mark he had left in the edge when he had dug his fingernail into it. He flipped it. An ace. The card after that. Another ace. Junior's eyes widened. "No fucking way," he whispered. It was James turn to smirk as he flipped the final card. Ace number three. Three of a kind beat two pairs.
A hushed silence fell over the room, all eyes locked on James's hat trick. "Well, chance is always at the heart of gambling," he said, reaching out with both hands and pulling all of the chips towards him. "Your turn to deal," he said to the human woman. He was keeping a cautious eye on Junior, who looked like he wanted very badly to murder James but was being held back by a half a dozen witnesses.
"Nuh-uh," the woman said, shoving all of her chips in James direction. "I don't even have two-thousand and you have all of that. I give up, you win." James blinked before taking the chips without question. As a response, Junior took out a stack of lien that was held together with a band and threw it at James. It smacked into James's shoulder and he fought back the urge to wince. Not wanting to push his luck by commenting on it, James undid the strap and did a quick count. 25k Lien, all there. He had tripled his money in one night. That would be pretty good in case the teaching thing didn't work out.
"Hey, how much for a bottle of the stuff I was drinking earlier?" he asked, deciding that since he had come into some extra money, he was going to treat himself.
"Two-hundred," Junior growled. All of the other gamblers were noticeably inching away from the giant man. Filtering two-hundred Lien out of his new stack of cash, he gingerly handed them to the twin in white behind him. She took it, looking shocked, though only mildly so, at the turn of events. "Melanie, get him a bottle to go and get him the fuck out of my bar." That would probably be the best case for everyone. James didn't want to stick around on the off chance that Junior noticed the fingernail marks. In fact, he should probably not go anywhere near this bar again just to play it safe.
Binding and pocketing his money, James got up and followed Melanie out of the back room and back into the throng outside. She moved through the crowd to the bar, had a word with the man manning it, then had a dark brown bottle handed to her. "Here you go," she said, pulling out her scroll with one hand and typing into it with one hand as she handed James the bottle with the other.
"Thanks," he said as he took the bottle. Melanie didn't look up from her scroll. Knowing when he wasn't wanted, James headed towards the exit, fighting back the urge to openly run. When he finally passed through the doors, he let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. He felt drained, like he had just run five miles with someone jamming a cattleprod into his back. Yet at the same time, he felt weirdly exhilarated. He had found an asshole who had tried to wrong him and he had smacked the prick right back in the face with a good bit of karmatic irony. The discomfort he had felt before heading into the club was gone, he felt alive.
Humming a tune under his breath, he began to head back to Beacon. Rule number one of gambling was that you quit while you were ahead, and that was the plan. Head straight back to his room, sleep like a baby after cracking some jokes at Junior's expense to ED-E, get up in the morning and start his new job. Probably find something nice and expensive to buy after work. Maybe see what Remnant had to offer in terms of guns. The adrenaline rush cooldown was starting to hit him, so sleeping would probably come within seconds of him closing his eyes.
He kept expecting the emotional high to leave him at any second, but it didn't. Even looking around at Vale at night, watching the occasional shifty eye stranger looking back at him, couldn't ruin his good mood. A small part of his brain wondered what would happen when this euphoria wore off and if he would slip back into his earlier discomfort, but it was a barely noticeable part. James smiled all the way back home.
XXXXX
Servius was running, scrambling over sharp and slippery rocks, sometimes on all fours. He knew he shouldn't look behind, that he had to keep moving, but he couldn't help himself. The monster was right behind him, her body twisted and bulky. Her head stretched out on a thin neck that was several feet long, extending ahead of her body. Her arms were just as long, but they were all as thick as a man, and all eight of them were carrying an ax as big as his head.
The creature didn't speak, but let out a wailing, shrieking roar. She wasn't hungry or defending her territory, she wanted him dead because she hated him. The blades dragged on the rocks behind him, sparks shooting off. Even though it took Servius everything he had to move through the rocks, the monster walked as smoothly as if she was on flat ground. As if she was crushing the rocks underfoot.
He could hear gunshots. There were those who were opposing the monster, but their efforts were in vain. Every swing of the ax claimed a life, full grown men hewn in half with no difficulty whatsoever on the end of the beast behind him. They were more of a nuisance to her than an actual threat. Then she had caught him.
He was pinned to the ground under her foot, a malformed thing with six toes, as her head tilted down to leer at him. A malformed mouth opened wide in a fanged grin. One of her axes opened his leg wide, and a swarm of maggots began to crawl out of it, all of them chewing at his flesh as they went. The beast did nothing more after that, content to keep him pinned as the swarm continued to pour out, moving to the other leg and then up his torso, eating him alive. Despite all of this, Servius felt no pain but was too distracted by the sight of his body being torn to shreds to notice. Yet some part of something felt that this was wrong. But he wasn't sure how.
"Servius? Servius?" Servius's eyes snapped open. He wasn't whatever he had thought he had been, he was sitting inside a cramped cave, with a small fire in the center. Two other men were sitting around the fire, a fourth manning the entrance to the cave with a rifle. Then it all came back to Servius. He was on the other side of the portal he had been ordered to gather with the only survivors of Barca's attack. Hatred boiled inside of him as he remembered the name Caesar had given the most hated enemy of the Legion.
"Food's ready," the elder of the two men said. Ancus was one of the oldest legionaries Servius knew at 42 years old. He wore the armor of a centurion though he had forgone the traditional helmet in favor of an NCR Ranger hat that had been given the traditional frill. To the unenlightened, it looked silly. To those who knew what a centurion was, it was a well-earned boast, and Ancus had earned his during the First Battle of Hoover Dam. A thick, hairy man with a bushy beard, Ancus was smoking a deer they had hunted over their meager fire. "It's gonna take some time until the rest is smoked, but we've got enough to eat," he said. He offered Servius a skewer with meat on it, one Servius gladly took.
"Rumford on guard duty then?" Servius asked while taking a bite.
In direct response, an angry shout came from the entrance of the cave. "I told you cockpussies to call me Lucius! If the baby who's still shitting his diapers gets a good name, then so do I! Call me Rumford one more time and I'll-"
"You'll do nothing," Ancus said, his voice firm. He didn't even bother looking away from the meat he was smoking. "You've not earned a proper legionary name yet. You didn't go through the training, nor have you proven yourself in combat. Until then, your profligate name will do." Now he looked up, the smallest of frowns on his face as he looked directly at Rumford. Rumford was kneeling by the entrance of the cave, wearing the armor of a recruit legionary, the same as Servius's, and a repeating rifle in hand. He was scrawny, though with a decent amount of muscle, was at least a decade younger than Ancus, and had a tanned, full face and a head of shaved brown hair. He was scowling at all of them as he turned back to watch the cave.
Servius felt a strong pang of hatred. "He shouldn't have been let into the Legion," he said.
"He's right," Tullus said from where he was sitting next to Ancus. "Former Fiends make for bad warriors. They're ill-disciplined and chase personal pleasure above else. It's what happens when you pollute your body like that."
"Fuck you cripple!" Rumford shouted. "I didn't touch shit when I was with them! I only hung out with them because they got it when I talked about the way the world worked, I didn't know they were a bunch of dirty fucking junkies! Drugs aren't something allowed in this body, just meat, water, and booze. That and pussy when I can get some, not that any of you faggots would know what that feels like." Servius really wanted to take a swing at Rumford whenever the idiot opened his mouth. Most of the time, just a simple blow to the back of the head, but sometimes he couldn't help but envision himself carving the man's throat open. It would be simple, a strong slice across, or a powerful blow. Then a few follow-up blows to be safe, before eventually finishing it off with decapitation. Servius tightened his hand around his machete before willing himself to let go. He had to control himself.
Tullus stood up, staring at Rumford. The things that had attacked them when they had arrived in this place had ripped off Tullus' left arm at the elbow. It was now a mass of bandages that had been applied after a heated blade had stopped the bleeding, but on top of that was a series of leather straps that were holding Tullus's machete in place. A brilliant idea he had had after he had regained consciousness. "If you're serious about becoming a legionary, you will show respect to your superiors," he said cooly, before tapping his blade against his armor.
Unlike Servius and Rumford, Tullus wore the armor of a veteran legionary. One of the honored veterans of the Red Okie Centuria, Tullus had fought in both Battles of Hoover Dam, unlike Ancus, who had only fought in the first. It felt wrong that Tullus had fought the NCR twice, the second time with their forces bolstered by Brotherhood and Enclave of all people, and walked away alive, only to lose his arm to a wolf. A longtime veteran of Caesar losing his arm to an animal. It was an injustice. "We let you into the Legion because we need every able-bodied man we can get right now. The reason Ancus and I are tolerating your insubordination right now is we're stranded with no way to contact the rest of the Legion. We wouldn't tolerate this behavior from a child training to be a legionary. You are actually receiving very special treatment. Keep that in mind."
"You know cripple, you're really starting to piss me off," Rumford said, getting to his feet and drawing his machete. "I could take all three of you, even if you had six arms to go around. And you know why? Because I'm a thinker. I don't need someone whispering every last command in my ear and telling me what to do. I can actually think on my own two feet." He gestured his blade at both Tullus and Servius. "You two would die in three seconds if that cocksucker ever ditched you." He gestured his blade at Ancus. "Because none neither if you dipshits ever learned how to think for yourselves. You know why the Legion lost at Hoover Dam both times? Legates and centurions. Who the fuck do they think they are controlling entire armies? They should advise at most, let soldiers take their own initiative. That's how you win wars."
Servius couldn't stop himself. "Are we sure he hasn't polluted his mind with chems?" he said, looking away from Rumford and at Tullus and Ancus. "None of that makes any sense. Even the profligates understand their armies need leaders."
"Oh my fucking-you stupid assholes!" Rumford swore. "Let me put it in words you pricks can understand. Soldiers on the ground understand everything about what's going on better than anyone else. Our initiative is the best way to win wars, and idiots giving commands to contradict that initiative never did anything to help! Lanius is a hindrance, not a help."
"So no leadership ever," Tullus, sound torn between anger at Rumford's attitude and sheer disbelief at his claims. "In other words, nothing ever gets done ever, because no one's setting out directions. You weren't at Hoover Dam, you don't know what it takes to get hundreds of warriors to one location without being ambushed. And if you think every last one can just figure it out and put it all together, you truly don't belong in the Legion."
"That's it cripple, the second you're done sucking off your boyfriends, you're losing the second arm!" Rumford said, lashing forward with his machete. "Bring it! Any time you-" Rumford began, but before he could get another word out, both Tullus and Ancus lunged at him. Tullus jumped up into the air and slashed down with his makeshift arm. He tore open a gash in Rumford's cheek, causing the older man to tumble back onto the ground, clutching his face and screaming, his weapons dropped. Caught off by the sudden action, Servius drew his 9mm and aimed it at Rumford, but it proved to be unneeded.
Ancus charged forward and threw himself directly on top of the man, pinning one of Rumford's hands with a boot, the second with his left hand, and wrapping his right around Rumford's throat. "Listen carefully, I will not repeat myself," he said in a dangerously low voice. "Threaten me or any other legionary again, I will kill you where you stand. In fact, both Servius and Tullus now have orders to do just that." He shot both of them a quick glance before turning his attention back to Rumford. "As I said before. Special treatment. Where the circumstances even slightly different, I would slit your throat for brandishing a weapon against your centurion." Servius wished he would, but stayed silent. "I will give you one last chance, as we are that desperate. Understand?" Rumford gave a pained nod. "Very well." Getting to his feet, Ancus took a pouch of healing powder from his side and tossed it onto Rumford's chest. "Put that on. Servius? I'll need to you take over watch duty. I need to pray to Mars and Minerva."
Servius nodded, holstering his pistol, drawing his rifle, and taking up a position at the mouth of the cave as Rumford slunk into the back to apply the powder, picking up his belongings as he went. He smirked. He had enjoyed that more than he should have. He hoped Tullus's wound would leave a scar, it would be an excellent story for the two to reminisce about later. He despised that he had to continue to work with Rumford, but Ancus was right. A centurion of his rank was supposed to command eighty men, but they weren't even a full contubernium at the moment. They would gain little from removing Rumford.
He knelt down, raising his rifle as he began his watch. At once, he noticed something was wrong. The stars to the northeast were being blotted out by something. "Smoke," he whispered. Then he raised his voice. "Centurion! Smoke!" There was a rustling behind him, and all three of the others were at the head of the cave with him, staring in the same direction as him. "We saw a small village on the way in, it must be coming from there. Judging by the density, at least a quarter of it must be on fire." He looked at Ancus. "Orders?"
"We scout and observe," Ancus said, drawing a 12.7mm SMG from his back, while Tullus drew a .44 magnum in his good hand. "Do not engage. If there is military movement in the area, we relocate. We can't risk being discovered. I'll take point. Grab everything we might need if we need to flee." Servius turned and grabbed one of the few packs of supplies that they had, slinging it over his back. The others did the same, leaving the cave bare except for their fire and their food. Ancus put what meat had been smoked into his pack, before kicking the fire out. "Move." He moved out of the cave, Tullus right behind him, Servius after him, Rumford taking up the rear.
It took them some time to reach the village. Ancus had them moving at a pace that felt unbearably slow to Servius, regularly stopping to check the area for enemies before moving forward. He could hear Rumford grumbling behind him, but ignored it, instead of tightening the grip on his repeating rifle. He had only seen a few engagements against NCR scouts, but a blooded legionary was a blooded legionary. He had killed the enemies of the Legion before, and he would kill again if they showed themselves to him.
After what felt like half an hour, they reached the edge of the village. As Servius had predicted, several buildings were fully engulfed in fire, with a few nearby starting to catch as well. Servius winced, even from this distance the heat was overwhelming. And then he saw what was in front of the burning buildings. A dozen wooden structures with people strapped to them, a few stirring, but most of them silent. Crucifixes.
Servius blinked in confusion. "Who? How?" he said. "You didn't do this when I was asleep, did you?" This had the sign of a Legion attack all over it, but they were the only legionaries nearby. But none of that made sense.
"Couldn't, this is beyond our numbers," Tullus said. Though it does look pretty typical for a Legion attack on a profligate town when we're trying to make an example of them. But that-" he trailed off. A twig had snapped to their right. All four of them, Rumford trailing behind a little, turned and aimed their weapons at the noise. There was a figure there, but nothing about it was right. It wore a pure white mask with horns, but the rest of it was pitch black, clearly there but looking like it was made out of solid night. It was also holding a long, thin sword.
Bright yellow electricity flared through the sword, which flopped down as if the steel had been replaced with rubber. With a flourish, the figure swung and the sword shot out like a whip. It struck Tullus in the shoulder, sending him tumbling back. Rage tore through Servius as he saw Tullus fall. Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he drew his machete and charged. While part of him deeply wanted to tear into the flesh of the one who had harmed Tullus, his move had a tactical motivation as well. Whatever that weapon was, it had the same properties as whip, which meant it needed distance. At close enough range, he would render the weapon unusable.
He closed the distance and the figure seemed to realize what he was doing. It took a few steps back, flicking the odd weapon. It reformed into a sword, with its firm, pointed frame. Servius thought fast. A weapon of that design wouldn't be good for anything besides thrusting. He ducked low just as the figure did the only thing it could do with that sword, but Servius was well under its arm as it stabbed out. Elation flowed through him as the figure's arm grazed the top of his head. He was well under his foe's guard. Taking his blade in both hands, he jabbed towards his foe's gut, planning on making a killing blow.
The force of the blow forced the figure into a tree and earned a cry of pain, but the elation flowed out of Servius. His blade had stopped just short of his enemy's gut, an invisible force keeping it from going any further. "What?" he whispered. His foe didn't bother to respond. Instead, he was given a sharp blow to the face from the hand not holding a sword. Stars popped into Servius's vision and pain blossomed into his body as he stumbled back. The figure's sword went limp again and it lashed out. It wrapped around his throat and pulled him to the ground, which he hit hard. He struggled to stand up, grabbing at the whip, but before he could do anything, a booted foot crashed into his skull, forcing a silent gasp out of him.
"Back off humans," the figured rasped, in a voice that was much higher than he had mistaken. Even though the pain of the electrified cutting into his neck and the boot pressing against his head, he couldn't mistake it. A woman. "Drop your weapons, and he dies."
"Let me explain something," Tullus's voice said from somewhere Servius couldn't see. It was trembling with anger. "That's a soldier of the Legion right there. Hurt him, and you'll end up on one of those crosses. So I suggest you let him go and maybe we'll show you some mercy."
"Legion? How unexpected. And welcome." A soft voice crept to Servius's ears. It was an unknown voice that didn't belong to either to his comrades or his assailant. "Adam, have your friend release him, please. Legionaries? Stand down." Servius was about to scream, or at least try to, at the newcomer for attempting to order him when he heard something that stunned him. "In hoc signo taurus vinces." Latin. The language of Caesar and the Legion. He desperately struggled on the ground, trying to see the newcomer. "Adam, she is strangling one of my legionaries. Come now, there's no need for this."
A young sounding voice spoke up. "Illia, let the human go." With a grunt of annoyance, the woman loosened her whip and removed her boot. As air flowed back into his lungs, Servius had a brief coughing fit as he got to all fours and stumbled. After a few seconds, he managed to compose himself and scrambled back to the other three legionaries, eyeing the girl warily and keeping a firm grip on his machete. As he eyed her, the odd texture of her skin faded away. It wasn't pure dark anymore, it was a much more natural skin color. Light brown and dotted with dark freckles, particularly around her face. A very young looking face, Servius noted.
"You ok?" Tullus asked, whispering in his ear. "Anything major?" Servius shook his head. "Ok. She gets to live. For now." Fighting back a smile at Tullus's welcome concern, Servius turned to face the newcomers. At least a dozen men and women in white armor with black hoods were all around them, all of them armed. The one outlier was a boy in a black outfit with red hair, clutching a large sword. One of the men in armor was standing next to him, smiling at the legionaries.
"Ancus, I believe it is?" the man in armor asked. Ancus nodded hesitantly. "I am the head of the expeditionary force that Caesar sent beyond the portal. May I ask what the head of the guard that was left to ensure no profligates located it is doing on the wrong side?" His voice was level, but there was a dangerous undertone to it. Servius felt a pang of fear. Caesar didn't tolerate failure. Even his own right-hand man, whose name no one dare spoke, had not been exempt.
"We were attacked," Ancus reported. "It was Barca, him and his entourage. Most of our forces were slaughtered and a bomb damaged the portal. We were pulled in with two other legionaries, they were killed by wolves of unusual size. Barca and his followers killed the rest. However, I must report to you that Barca was pulled through with us, him and his pet robot. We attempted to engage him but we were forced to retreat, the wolves were converging on our location."
"I see," the man in white said. "It is unfortunate that our route back home has been compromised, possibly even destroyed, but there are ways around that. Our new allies have been helping us with that. Allow me to introduce them." He gestured to the boy. "Adam Taurus, a prominent figure in the White Fang, a revolutionary movement against an unjust system. When I heard of his cause, I was moved by his dedication and instantly pledged to assist him in his quest to free his people. I have provided him with scouts, tactical advisement, and some pointers of the Legion way of fighting." One of the people on the crosses behind Servius gave a weak moan of pain. "I could not ask for much from a man who asked so little, but he did agree to help me look for something. A set of coordinates I located in the Pre-War facility that housed the portal. I believe it will lead to great things for both of us. Considering that, while I find your failure distasteful, it is forgivable. New paths have opened for the Legion, and they present such new opportunities for us all. This world is ripe with them. For example. You." He pointed at Servius. "Give me your hand."
Slowly, secretly afraid that he was about to join Tullus in being one-handed, he gave the man his hand. The man took it, squeezing it tightly, and began to mutter under his breath. Servius wondered what the man was trying to do when a strange sensation passed over him. He struggled to stand up, everything was fading in front of him, and he thought he might pass out. Then he felt like a great fire had been lit in his chest. His senses came rushing back, feeler sharper and clearer than ever as he felt fitter and stronger than ever. A dark red aura faintly glowed around him before it faded into nothingness. The man smiled. "New powers have been granted to us, a gift from our new allies."
Slowly, he walked forward, taking the hands of Tullus, Ancus, and Rumford. He repeated the same process of muttering and holding hands. As he did, the man he was touching seemed to glow an odd color before it faded. "Excellent," the man said. "All of you were susceptible to being awakened." Servius felt very confused, but the man spoke up before he could. "A power that we all had but never realized. It's ours now. With this, you could slay a platoon of profligate soldiers with merely your hands."
Taking a step forward, Rumford gave his fist an experimental flex before punching a nearby tree. There was a loud snap as the tree splintered under his blow, breaking clean in half and falling over. Rumford let out a whoop of laughter. "All right! Now we're fucking talking! Those cockpussies aren't gonna know what hit them!"
"Patience," the man said, turning to Rumford. "We have much to do. Our beleaguered friends here recently left an alliance with those that treated them as expendable pawns." He sighed and shook his head. "A travesty. Fortunately, they are now free of that poisonous influence, but we must prepare for reprisals, from them and the White Fang's other cowardly enemies. Now then. Signifer?" Another man in white armor stepped forward, kneeling on the ground and placing a pack full of armor in front of them. "For now, you must not be seen in legionary armor. We wear the colors of our allies for the moment. Our camp is some distance from here, so change now. There's much to tell you about our plans, you will be needing new equipment, and you must begin training to master your new abilities. Oh. And you must truly meet all of those who have been declared Amicus, beyond those in the White Fang." Reaching into a pouch, the man produced a ledger and handed it to Servius. He looked at it.
A. Taurus: Amicus
S. Mann: Likely Amicus. Meeting arranged with leader.
H. Xiong: Potential Amicus. Unlikely. Initial meetings poor.
R. Torchwick: Potential Amicus. Unable to arrange meeting at this time.
Marie F. Amicus.
S. Khan. Indirect Amicus.
The man removed his mask, smiling. Servius's swallowed as a man with pale white hair looked back at him. "Give thanks to Caesar brothers, the dawn of a new era of glory for both the White Fang and the Legion is upon us," said Vulpes Inculta.
XXXXX
Author's Note: This chapter had a lot of behind the scenes math and I now kinda hate myself for writing it because I fucking hate math. Particularly when I realized I made an error early on and I had to go digging for it. Anyway, like the chess scene, these people would probably be classified as beginner level poker players on anything resembling a professional level, but I think it works better in this scene than the chess scene as James isn't a professional, just a guy who spent a lot of time hanging around Vegas, and Junior relies on cheating as a crutch and is mainly shaking down people he sees as easy targets. He wouldn't bother becoming a skilled poker player for rigged backroom matches because even a skilled poker player is still somewhat at the mercy of chance, and Junior would want the random element gone if his main deal is easy cash. Also, he's been shown to underestimate people and be impulsive, as seen in the Yellow trailer. He doesn't make the same mistake twice, (In Volume 2 he's wised up to the fact that Yang is not someone to screw with) but the first time he met her, even after she grabbed his nuts, he still let his impulses get the better of him. So I think James would be able to pull a fast one and sneak a victory from Junior. He would just never ever be invited to a game with Junior again and probably be banned from the club.
I considered having James rescue a Faunus kid from a bunch of muggers, but I got three paragraphs into writing that when I realized A. I already had him protecting Faunus and B. This chapter had already had a climax for James. Both made me feel like such a scene would've been overkill, so I took what I wrote and stuffed it in my scraps folder. We'll see if I ever go with it anywhere because it involves James splattering booze on himself and pretending to be drunk to get the muggers to lower their guard and I actually really like that idea.
As a side note, one of the ideas for this chapter was James cheating in a different way. It involved him provoking the man who got eliminated until the man lost his patience and punched James. James would then throw himself from the chair in an overly dramatic way, spilling his deck of Lucky 38 cards all over the floor. After that, he would slip the ace of spades up his sleeve and press it against one of the cards in his hand, hiding it. I decided fingernail marks on cards would both be easier to pull off and harder to notice.
Oh. And it turns out I screwed up the name of the pistol Joshua gives you. I thought it was A Light in Shining Darkness, turns out it's A Light Shining in Darkness. You know, a name that actually makes sense. And I had to go and make a joke about it. *Buries face in hands* When this chapter goes up, I'll be editing that mistake out.
Also, I scribbled this up because I was bored.
Junior: Are you high?
James:
[Speech: 80] Oh come on, where's all that bluster that you had when we started? That talk about guts? Or was that all talk designed to hide that you have none?
[Speech 67/80] *Makes chicken noises*
[Barter 80] Junior, you're not being a good host here. You want to give a good show if you want these people to come back for your next game.
[Barter 52/80] Uh, people will buy more drinks if you raise?
[Terrifying Presence] Are you going to bet or waste more of my fucking time?
[Rep: Vale] You know, I heard a lot about you Junior. It looks like I'm going to have to tell people how much you don't live up to the stories. I imagine they'll be disappointed
[ Int 2] High? No, me on ground.
[Wild Wasteland] Yes, what about it?
Before you ask, yes. Rumford is who you think he is. The sad thing is that this character is probably going end up being higher on the karma meter than his original namesake, if only because I don't have the space nor want to depict him carrying out and/or advocating for atrocities to the degree as the original. Though that's kind of like saying "he's not as bad as Hitler." And considering what the original Rumford got up to, that statement is hyperbole, but not by a particularly huge margin.
I would like to thank my Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, and Josue Garcia for their amazing support.