"Let us review the facts."
An overhead projector hummed its assent. The rest of the room was not as enthusiastic. Their dire faces stoically watched on. Detective Earnest Shoat tapped the podium interface to begin the presentation.
"The incident occurred shortly after midnight. It began when one or more suspects entered the main lobby."
A picture of the wrecked foyer appeared on the screen behind him. The point of view centered over a sizable indent in the floor. The audience, consisting of the heads of the Vale Police Department, remained silent.
"There, they assaulted a security guard, Leroy Browne."
Two photos of Leroy appeared. One was a headshot from his employment file. The other was of him on a gurney, being loaded into an ambulance.
"Mr. Browne claims that power to the building was cut shortly before he was attacked. A damaged fuse box in the basement supports this account."
The next image was of the charred insides of an electrical panel. Extreme heat had warped the metal casing while blackened soot radiated out from the console. It was completely inoperable.
"As you can see, this was not a natural occurrence. Some kind of device triggered a catastrophic failure. We'll know more when the Explosives Unit finishes their assessment."
Early estimates were not favorable. All that was left of the firebomb was wires and resin. Even the notorious Vale Bomber, who had murdered several Council members almost two decades earlier, had left more to work with. Those had ended up being an investigative dead end.
"After overwhelming the guard, the perpetrators next climbed to the third floor. There they encountered a large group. We assume the outage brought them out into the hallway. A deadly scuffle ensued that resulted in eleven fatalities."
A series of photos flashed across the screen. Each showed different angles of a blood drenched hallway. Several bodies were prevalent, all arranged in various states of disfigurement.
Police officers were naturally desensitized to scenes of carnage. Still, there were shocked expressions from the crowd. A few green visages as well.
"Based on bruising and burn patterns, forensics suspect a custom weapon. One that could be used in melee and fire bullets."
Closeups were shown of the entrance and exit wounds. Also captured were glimpses of the victim's faces stretched out in terror and pain. Their last moments had not been soft.
Someone stood up and left the conference room. No one stopped them.
Not wanting to dwell on this collection of tragedies, Earnie moved along. "Thanks to the apartment owner's co-operation, the victims have all been identified."
A lineup of the lost souls popped onto the projector. These had been gathered from social media accounts. Some smiled while others sported a grimace. The standout of the batch was of a man with his young daughter on his shoulders. Fearing a kidnapping, they had checked and determined she was safe with her mother.
"The victims ranged in age from nineteen to fifty-four. All male, born and raised in Vale, except for two expats who-"
"How about their RAP sheets?"
Every head swiveled. The asker, Major Nadder, sat at the center of the audience. He was a finely built man in his late forties. His waxed head shone like speckled amber under the ambient light.
As the highest-ranking officer present, he was head chair for this assembly. There could be no deferments to save those questions for the end. The gavel in his hand threatened a recess to force the issue.
"Several had previous arrests. These charges were classified as petty misdemeanors, such as public intoxication and loitering. The one exception was a five-year suspended sentence for aggravated battery."
"Were any of them a part of an illicit organization?" The chairman pressed.
"No criminal affiliations have been uncovered."
"No known affiliations?"
"By definition. If we have not found something, then it is unknown."
There were numerous coughs from the onlookers. Earnie had not meant for the comment to come across as chastising. Nadder's jerky frown indicated it was taken as one anyway.
Council's Prosecutor Albano, who was seated next to the major, cleared his throat. His long hair and tan made him look more like a beach bum than a lawyer. Yet the position he occupied afforded him the presence to pause their verbal tit-a-tat.
"I believe we were covering the timeline of events. Perhaps we should finish that before diving into motives."
Grateful for the intervention, Earnie returned to the summary. "During this attack, an injured Mr. Browne followed and engaged the assailants again. He fired off a round before being beaten down. They then escaped through the damaged rear window."
A collage showed the broken pane, the drop to the ground below, and the parking lot. Which direction the attackers went was anyone's guess. Earnie had theories, but nothing he wanted to share. There was already enough conjecture.
Not everyone agreed, as a lieutenant spoke up. "Kinda funky that all the others bit it while Browne got to be the last man standing. How did he survive?"
"Seems suspicious. Did they spare him on purpose?" Another echoed along.
"He has Aura." Earnie said, trying to pull that narrative up before it took root. "Now, we do not have a description of these assailants. None of our victims are in a position to describe them. However, if we were to canvas the surrounding area, I'm sure we can-"
Nadder once more interrupted. "Wait one damn minute. Are you telling me Browne fought these attackers twice and cannot identify them?"
"It was dark."
Others were emboldened to speak. So many, that no one could keep track of who said what. Everyone felt the need to offer their own takes on the situation.
"Heard he was a faunus."
"Don't they have night vision?"
"-Aura is not a normal thing to have-"
"-What else could he have done to mislead us?"
Commentary kept on rolling in. The room became a swirl of innuendo. Layers of groupthink built on each other.
The most damning question came from CP Albano. "Returning to an earlier point, does Mr. Browne have a record or been a part of an illicit organization?"
Earnie had to answer truthfully. "Yes, to both."
Their chatter became more intense. The detective had lost them. He let out a low grumble as he pressed a button to kill the overhead. A diagram detailing the proposed ground search procedure faded away.
IX. Know Your Role
The debrief ended an hour later. Earnie was glad for it. Presentations were his second least favorite part of the job.
A while ago, he had come across a VNN opinion poll on phobias. Public speaking outranked death as the most common fear. Functionally, that meant that at a funeral, more people would prefer to be in the casket than to give the eulogy. He could now say he sympathized.
Having sweated through his under-shirt, he needed a quick change of clothes. He kept one and a stick of deodorant in his car for such reasons. All he had to do was slip away.
After grilling him for information, few were paying him any mind. Earnie snuck around the edge of the room. Small excuses for those who did approach kept unnecessary conversations to a minimum.
Along the way, he saw Nadder holding court. Lieutenants, sergeants, and others wanting to move up the ladder crowded around. They hung onto every word from their superior's mouth to curry favor.
The major seemed to be tracking the detective with a disapproving gaze while keeping up the conversation. Earnie shied away. Avoiding being dragged into that viper's pit was a priority.
Once outside the stuffy room, he felt like he could relax again. There were clusters of people in the atrium, but they wore significantly fewer chevrons on their collars. Earnie was much more confident while walking through this throng of co-workers.
He was almost home free when someone called out. "Shoat! Hold up!"
A brunette in a teal pantsuit waved him down. Normally he would have pretended not to hear and continued walking. Because this was his direct supervisor, he waited for her to catch up.
"Sergeant Blassie." He greeted her, while cursing internally.
"You're in a hurry. Where you off to?"
"I need some fresh air."
"Me too. Let's walk and talk."
They did so. Pleasantries about family and vacation plans were exchanged. Blassie was taking her significant other to Argus. Earnie asked that she let him know how that went when she returned. His wife had been dropping hints about a getaway for their upcoming anniversary.
Their chosen path led them out the side of the police station and into the motor pool. Four rows of marked cars extended to a brick fence. A decent place to have a private conversation.
Earnie had a sneaking suspicion about what was going on. He had been expecting this after the presentation, but he thought he would have a few more days. There was no point in beating around the bush.
"You're pulling me from the investigation."
"I'm not." She clarified. "Orders are coming up from on high."
Three guesses on who up high was telling her to do this were two guesses too many. Nadder must have been composing a message to change the lead investigator in real time. Or he had already drafted it before the meeting.
"Who's taking over?"
"We'll be handing off to the Gangs Unit."
The detective smothered a wince. That unit was not well known for their professionalism. Their clearance rate was high, but their methods left much to be desired. He had busted a fair number of them when he had worked with internal affairs.
Not that it ever mattered. That squad always managed to wiggle out from under a charge, regardless of how high the evidence was piled. Some of them were nigh untouchable.
Orders were orders, however. Complaining would only land him on desk duty.
"What's my new assignment?"
"There are a few active cases." She brought her Scroll out. "Actually, I have one. The From Dust Till Dawn robbery would be perfect for you. The uniforms that would have been used for that have been directed to the high-rise investigation."
He shared a funny expression. "Wasn't that closed?"
Scuttlebutt was that most of the gang responsible were captured thanks to a huntress. The ringleader had escaped, but their identity was well known. There should not have been much left for a detective to uncover.
"You may not have heard. There was another robbery at the same location last night. This time, the burglars got away with most of the inventory."
"Wow. Got to feel for the guy that owns the place." Being held up twice in the same week was some rotten luck.
"It gets worse. Whoever did this worked him over something awful. He is laid up at Vale General, unable to give a description."
"There were no witnesses?"
"None that the responding officers could uncover. We are not even sure when this happened. The victim was found unconscious the next morning by some window repair company..."
"Who was there to fix the damage from the first robbery." He finished for her.
This reflected badly on the department. The place had been targeted only days prior. That no one had been stationed in the area really highlighted how spread thin the organization was. Someone was going to take the blame for this in the press, and it was unlikely to be the thieves.
"We could really use a win here. Interested?"
"Might as well. Send me the deets."
The sergeant typed away at her device. Once done, the detective's Scroll pinged with a notification. A new digital case file had been assigned to him. They soon parted ways so that he could brush up on the new facts.
/ / /
Sauntering along the sidewalks of south Vale, Emerald Sustrai could not have been happier. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and beside her was Cinder Fall. They were on an important task.
Adding to the joy was Mercury's absence. He had been given a separate errand. Busy work to keep him distracted and out of trouble.
It was just the two of them, together.
"You are probably wondering where we are going." Cinder stated. Emerald had not been questioning that but nodded. "We have a rendezvous with a representative from our friends at the faunus civics center. They are providing us with an update on the new contract."
Out in the open, they could not talk freely. Anyone could be listening. Emerald got the gist. They were meeting the White Fang.
Cinder had told them previously that the Fang would be taking over the Dust procurement side of their operation. The one Roman had been overseeing. She had gone out to recruit them the other day. Alone.
Emerald had not been happy to learn about this after the fact. Not that she doubted Cinder's ability to protect herself. Never that. But accidents did occur. If something had happened, she would have had no back-up.
"Are there any… exploitable loopholes?" Could this be a trap?
Tinkling laughter was Cinder's answer. "I have faith we are all on the same page. Though, it never hurts to keep abreast of the fine print."
There was no expectation of betrayal. Still, they needed to be ready for that possibility. Emerald was eager to agree.
Losing Neo had been a stinging embarrassment twice over. Once for disappointing her mentor. Twice for the stiff sensations in her rib cage. Both burned her insides. Patched up, with a turquoise mesh shirt covering the stitches, she felt ready to make up for those failures.
Crossing the street, the duo drew closer to the meeting location. The spot was a diner with a red roof. Emerald dutifully opened the door for Cinder before following her inside.
Sweeping the area, the amateur thief took stock. The public setting implied that the locale was safe. However, the inside was mostly empty. Lunch for most people had ended hours before. A few sat at a counter near the cooking station.
The short order cook bid them a welcome. An extra pair of dog ears nestled underneath a hairnet denoted his faunus status. This restaurant was either White Fang owned or the only place in the city they were comfortable taking a meeting.
Their presumed contact sat alone in a booth facing the entrance. She had a rough-cut blue bob hairdo. Her black vest was zipped up to the neck. Gray sleeves ran underneath to her gloved hands. She stood politely before beckoning them to sit.
"Cinder."
"Trifa." Cinder slid in behind the table. "May I introduce you to my associate, Emerald."
"Nice to meet you."
"Yeah, sure." Emerald replied noncommittally.
She quickly climbed in after her mistress. Being on the outside meant Emerald was the first line of defense if this was an ambush. The implicit trust meant everything to her. No force in the entire world would get through.
The faunus took back her previous seat. On the table was an untouched BLT. It sat on a plate next to an active Scroll. Both props gave the appearance of a busy customer.
"Thank you for agreeing to this." The azure girl started.
"When I said, 'may we meet again,' I did not believe it would be this soon." There was a teasing edge to Cinder's voice that unleashed an ugly current through Emerald.
"We did not want to wait to provide an update." The Scroll was pushed over. "As you can see, we have taken action to secure the requested supplies."
Cinder's eyes flicked downward and stayed there. Emerald, curious, did the same. On the display were several crates in an enclosed space. One of the boxes was opened, revealing clear containers within.
Suspended inside were crystals of various colors. Reds, greens, and yellows gave off a glare in the image. Dust. Lots of Dust.
A delighted Cinder hummed. "Excellent. I'm pleased you have already had such success."
Even Emerald, as peeved as she was, could not argue with these results. The White Fang had pulled through. This haul would put their plans back on track.
"We have, so far. There are some concerns I would like to discuss before continuing."
"Is there a problem with this arrangement?"
Like that, Cinder's earlier tone shifted. Playfulness was replaced with cold detachment. Depending on what was said, they would be needing another replacement.
The ashen woman maintained a surprising amount of poise before answering. "Not a problem as much as a question of logistics."
"Go on."
"First off, the Dust was taken directly from the source you had identified. The competitors were not expecting us to strike the same place twice. We were able to procure every last spec with minimum trouble."
"Which is what you were supposed to do." Emerald chimed in.
This interjection caused Cinder to give a sideways glance. It was the kind telling her subordinate not to butt in. Emerald bit her tongue. The faunus nodded, unflappable as before.
"Everything went to plan. We have the Dust. And we have no idea what to do with any of it."
"I'm not sure I follow." Cinder seemed legitimately taken aback, as was Emerald.
The White Fang did not know what to do with a truckload of Dust? Fuel taken for their exclusive use. Were they that useless?
"To be blunt, we lack storage. The caravan travels lightly by necessity. We cannot carry cumbersome raw materials with us. Likewise, the staging ground is nowhere near ready to receive shipments. Our warriors are still clearing out hostiles."
"So, you need a temporary place to hold the Dust."
"Exactly."
Four manicured fingers scrapped the table counter. "Where is the cargo now?"
"Inside a van parked near the shopping quarter. We figured it would be safest to hide the vehicle in an urban environment. Our top operatives, myself included, are watching over the van in shifts."
"That might work in the short term, but we need something more permanent."
"Yes." The White Fang grunt leaned in. "If I may, how were you planning on holding the Dust? Before you recruited us, I mean. This could not be a new issue."
She was digging. Emerald wanted to tell the terrorist to mind herself. It was the previous directive that kept her quiet.
"Our last provider possessed an abundance of rental properties he could import and export between without raising flags at customs." Cinder's elegant head tilted. "Could we do something similar?"
Further off, the cook's perked ears twitched. Emerald focused on the eavesdropper. The dog yelped, ducking for cover as he perceived his oven belching a huge fireball. Customers staired, concerned he had gone insane.
A hand landed on Emerald's knee. The gentle squeeze showed appreciation. Digging nails also told her to not overextend her Semblance.
"Not easily." The grunt continued, ignoring the commotion. "We do not own any territory in Vale that could serve as warehouses. In addition, our routes are inefficient. It would take us months to move such weighty materials."
A rough turnaround. Such delays would be crippling. The deadlines they were all working with would not be able to accommodate that.
"That is quite the conundrum."
"Like I said, these are logistical issues. They can be overcome. What we need is a safe place for what we have right now. The rest can be worked out later."
"Agreed. Let us find a solution."
The two talked through options for a solid half hour. The terrorist would ask a question. Cinder would answer. Sometimes she would throw out one of her own.
Throughout it all, Emerald listened while gritting her teeth. With attention spread out amongst the patrons, and with the complexity of their dialog, she was having problems keeping up. They seemed to be in sync in terms of planning. At last, they came to an agreement.
"That would be acceptable to my superiors." The extremist finally declared.
"Us as well. It will take a few days to complete, but I have every confidence in Emerald succeeding."
Flustered, the thief hurriedly said. "Leave everything to me."
She did not know what she was agreeing to. That was irrelevant. Emerald needed the other woman to know who belonged to Cinder and who was just a passing fascination.
"There you have it."
Cue given, discussions were over. Emerald jumped out of the booth. Offering her hand, Cinder graciously allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.
The woman was quick to follow them. "Thank you for hearing our concerns."
"Not at all. I would rather learn of them than let them linger. As for now, continue as you are. We will be in touch."
Mission clear, the group headed their separate ways. Emerald took a moment to look back at the booth and scowl. The faunus had left without her leftovers. People who wasted food were the worst.
/ / /
"I can't believe I got talked into this."
At the intersection of Lutwidge and Lime was a tall building, made of brick and cast iron. There were no front facing windows. The depot had a single green door beside two closed service bays.
Most of the signage had bleached from the sun. An exception was a rectangular plate above the garage. This one was slowly being erased by Father Time, starting from the middle. On the outsides were the letter clusters of 'St' and 'Co.' Everything in-between had been obliterated.
"This is nuts. Nuts!"
Neo continued to stare out the windshield at their target. Ignoring the boy at the steering wheel was increasingly tricky. His whiny voice made concentrating difficult.
Yellow steam drifted out the flat top roof. There was no chimney stack. Something illicit was going on inside. That the police had not already arrived to check out the suspicious emissions spoke that someone was on the take.
The real police, anyway. Sitting in a crookedly parked cruiser, projecting her cadet disguise, and watching suspicious activity, Neo was in a pig-like frame of mind. She felt dirty and not in a fun way.
"Focus on the positives."
Looking across at him, she rolled her eyes. Jaune was leaning back, trying to bring his shivering form under control. Going through life so tense had to be exhausting. It was certainly tiring to listen to.
Of course, he was supposedly not in the robbery racket. Nervousness would make sense for a first timer. If this was not an act. Jury was out on that.
In his current getup, he certainly looked like a robber who knew what he was doing. The VPD uniform he wore was wrinkled and big on him, but it was not that noticeable unless you knew he was a faker. A peaked, blue cap pressed to his brow concealed most of his messy hair. Neo would have looked right past him under normal circumstances.
"Think of the future. Yeah. That's it."
Having recognized the stolen car in a catacorner lot, she had approached the passenger side. There were a few new dents and scratches along the body. A product of a novice driver. Jaune visibly freaked out when she had hopped in. Doubly so when she became 'Janus' to match their aesthetic.
Once the teen recovered, Neo had silently pressed him to get the show on the road. He hurriedly explained how they needed to wait. Apparently, Roman's… essence could move unseen and independently of his container. They were taking advantage of that fact by having the master thief scout ahead.
Stretching her patience to breaking, but not knowing how to refute the claim, they continued their vigil in the stuffy vehicle. All the while, the blond continued to mutter to himself. If she had been in a better mood, she might have tried to get him sorted.
"Huntsman. Huntsman. I'm going to be a huntsman."
As it was, she was trying hard not to let her darker compulsions out. Junior had already soured her whole day. Neo hated that man and his entire degenerate clan. That she had been pulled into some Mistralian honor debt irritated her beyond measure.
Bottling those emotions was difficult. She needed an outlet and fast. Otherwise, it would be the kid on her left playing the role of punching bag twice in the same day.
On which, Neo would give the limp noodle some credit. He sure could take an ass kicking. And without any complaining either. She had expected him to look like a browning banana after their 'training' session.
Yet here he was. Fresh as a daisy. Lucid as well, unless his excessive babbling was a sign of brain damage.
"Huntsman. Going to be-" He stopped his mantra. "Oh! Here he comes!"
The sudden change jolted Neo to full alert. 'He' meant Roman. She looked where he pointed to see if there were any signs of, well, anything. All she saw was the depot.
"Ah, Neo is here." She snapped back to the teenager, who was using the deeper voice. "You're also transformed. Fantastic."
"How'd you know it was her?" Jaune asked in his normal tenor.
"Logic. Try it sometime. Who else could it be?"
"There is nothing 'logical' about shapeshifting!"
Her Semblance was more like visual projection than shapeshifting. Her actual body did not change, just how the outside world perceived it. That he had not known about that capability had originally been suspicious.
Then again, the real Roman would not have shared that information willingly. Keeping the full extent of her powers a secret was a top priority. It was one of the many mistakes they had made with Cinder.
And that was why she would not correct him now.
"Alright. Don't get defensive."
"I'm not-"
"On to other matters." Roman contorted the younger man's face into his famous half-grin. The one he flashed whenever he got one over on a mark. "Here's the rub. Four guys. One watches over the entrance, another cooks, and two are clingers-on."
"Cooks?"
"Makes the drugs. Looks like they are using the leftover equipment from when this place was a solvent producer. Pretty smart, but otherwise real amateur hour in there. Like, I'm insulted that we have to deal with them at all, but 'dem's da brakes,' right?"
They agreed there, although Neo was tired of thinking about it. She motioned for Roman to get to the layout. He laughed the way he always did when she was antsy.
"The storeroom is single floored, except for some scaffolding. A small foreman's office is up there. Seems to be where they keep their goodies. That is also where the extras are located."
That would be the first area to secure, then. They did not want the gang turtling up when the action started. Flimsy barricades would not keep Neo out, but it would slow her. If the Flows had a panic button, it could make things much more complicated.
Roman then expounded on how they were going to approach crowd suppression. Neo half-listened. She already knew what her role in all of this would be. Her and him had done stick-ups like this dozens of times.
Given the lack of opposition, she could run the whole hold-up by herself. There was a bigger picture to this. Jaune eventually stumbled upon it.
"So, what will I be doing?"
"Your role is to see how we handle business." Roman said coolly. "Leave the talking to me and the heavy lifting to her. Do what I say, and we will do well indeed. Can you do that?"
"S-sure."
"Hey now! Relax! And try to have some fun. This should be a cakewalk."
"How can you be so calm about this?"
"Getting uptight won't make this any easier. Plus, it's exciting, isn't it? Sometimes you got to live life like it is going out of style."
Only Roman could make such meaningless schlock sound profound. He really was in there. She had subconsciously accepted that days ago, ever since the interrogation.
Now she was admitting it to herself.
Strategizing complete, they all got out of the car. Side-by-side, they waltzed right up to the property. Before reaching the garage, the side door opened. The Flows must have had sensors or monitors watching the front.
A fellow with a face only a mother could love stepped out. A bulge in the waistband of his cargo shorts let them know he was strapped. Upon seeing the uniforms, he tried to discreetly suck the gun flat against his stomach.
"Officers." He greeted them neutrally.
"Good afternoon, citizen." Roman laid it on thick. "We would like to have a word with the purveyor of this establishment. He should be expecting us."
The lookout gave some long looks down Lime Street, grunted, and ushered them in. 'Ladies first' was in full effect, so Neo went in followed by Roman. Their chaperone quickly chained the door shut before running ahead to lead them.
Entering the depot proper, Neo heard a worrisome giggle.
No one else did. Nor could they hear the crunching glass. It was all in her head. Her imagination, already taxed with maintaining the current charade, had thinned the barrier between impulse and reality.
Miss Murder was restless. A steady diet of stress and chumps had gotten her all riled up. She begged to be let out to play as openly as Neopolitan.
Listening to the figment was always a dangerous proposition. The teachers had been very clear on when to kill. Indulging desensitized her instincts and made it more likely she would be caught. Controlled violence was more proper.
Yet her playmate whispered to forget those old duffers. The Missus was appealing to her contempt for authority. A very compelling argument.
Shoving that all to the side momentarily, Neo pivoted back to the factory floor. Everything was as Roman had said; Spacious.
It reminded her of a Bullhead hanger. Six of the flying machines could comfortably fit inside. It was not completely vacant, however.
Towards the east end, there were three gigantic teapot shaped vats. The middle one had collapsed in on itself but the other two looked functional. In fact, both were running, if the yellowish steam rising out from it were any indication.
Near the leftmost tank, they came upon a pudgy man in dirty clothes. His forehead was patched over with small, pink, bandages. Had Neo been capable of speech, she would have laughed out loud.
She recognized him. Hard not to. It was a small world after all.
"Shaw!" Their escort called to him. "We have visitors! Shady Divvy-types."
The pervert's real name was Shaw. Neo considered the new information and then discarded it. He would always be Smiley to her.
His eyes traced them. "What do you want? We're working here."
The way those beady little things lingered on Neo had Miss Murder titter. She whispered how much fun they could have while cutting him to shreds. No one would miss him. This was their chance to rectify a previous mistake they had made in letting him live.
All valid points that were hard to disagree with. The metaphorical barrier between them cracked a little more. Sharp razor edges ran along the splitting glass.
"And what fabulous work it is." Roman said as his puppet jerkily gestured to the rumbling vats. "I'll make this quick. We're here for your monthly contribution to the VPD retirement fund."
"Our payment isn't due until the end of the month." Smiley grunted.
"My superiors say otherwise. Sent us 'round to pick it up."
There was no way the two of them passed for whoever their regular contacts were. Smarter individuals would have had simple challenge questions prepared: What superiors? Why the change? What's your rank and precinct?
Something to verify who they were. These crooks were not too bright. The walking dumbwaiter groaned, taking everything at face value.
"Youse guys are worse than Xiong, always bleeding us dry."
"Feel you, man. We all recognize the squeeze. If you don't have it, you don't have it." The blond gave a delayed shrug. "I can always tell that to Kingsnake and the rest. I'm sure they will be understanding-"
"Whoa there, we have the scratch."
"Then there is no problem. Hand us our cut and off we go."
"Rufus!" Smiley snapped at the one who had led them in. "Go count out the tax deduction for these fine folks."
He scratched his head. "How much would that be?"
When civilians spoke of organized crime, they clearly did not mean these posers. Smiley grumbled under his breath. He made a curling hand gesture meant to simulate what he wanted to do with Rufus' neck.
"Jan here is good with numbers." It took Neo a moment to remember that Roman was speaking about her. "Lend a hand, won't ya love?"
"Think we're not kosher?" Smiley fumed at the suggestion.
"Just practicing some posterior protection. If there is a miscount, it'll all roll downhill."
There was no arguing with that. Rufus waved for her to follow him around to the far side of the building. They climbed a narrow set of stairs to the second-floor catwalk. This led the way to the foreman's office, which the gang member knocked on.
After a few moments, it opened up. Convection heat struck her face. A man wearing nothing but a pair of thick glasses and tighty-whities answered. His blood-shot eyes widened at Neo. Her guide clarified what was going on.
While their backs were turned to her — the biggest mistake anyone could ever make — she peeped the rest out. It was a typical office, although obviously in disrepair. Wallpaper peeled at the sides and half the overheads were burned out.
Further in was another man. This one was thankfully clothed in a tank top and jorts. He rested his sand-colored head of hair on a filthy pillow. From the looks of things, he may have been living in this office.
On the plywood desk to his right was a beige safe. There was nothing fancy about the apparatus. It was small and rectangular with a keypad lock. Exactly the kind you would find in a roadside motel. She would not have been surprised if it had been nicked from one.
Whatever security the cheap strongbox may have provided was undone by a door stopper wedged in the locking mechanism. No guessing or arm-twisting required to open it. Even better, a lime duffle bag sat beside it, ready to receive stacks of lien.
Part of Neo felt bad. This was like taking drugs away from an addicted baby. Other parts, especially Miss Murder, were salivating for a taste of ultraviolence. Ultimately, that was what she was there to provide. There was no reason to pretend otherwise.
She pushed her way in, allowing the door to close on all of them.
Author Notes: I'm not sure why this took so long to finish. I had the outline ready for a while. Hopefully, the next chapter should be easier. A third of it is already written since it is a continuation of this scene. Until then!
