"Sir, we have a problem."
General Hsu kneaded his fingers together until the unit commander finished relaying his report. A Ranger had just gone missing: Sergeant Lena Atwater. The same Sergeant Atwater who was present during his rather dubious negotiations with Courier Six in Freeside and the Ranger to whom he handed essentially the biggest bribe in NCR history.
"Find her," the general ordered. "Use all available assets to track her down. I want her here at McCarran ASAP."
"Yes, sir!"
Later that evening, he got the dreaded (unofficial) assessment from Lieutenant Boyd. Sergeant Atwater was definitely missing, either taken by hostile agents or gone AWOL. Regardless, that trooper had the gold and if ever word got out that a distinguished commander like James Hsu—extolled in the media for his honor and integrity in comparison to many of his peers—had accepted a bribe from the Courier in exchange for critical NCR assets being diverted to the New Vegas Strip atop a promise to lobby for a contentious policy change in the government...
The Senate would now have enough rope to hang him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was why New Vegas was among the most difficult postings in the NCR military. If war didn't do him in, corruption would. To think he was complacent enough to let the greed of a Ranger ruin this deal. He had to find Sergeant Atwater and make an example out of her.
Make an example out of...
James pinched the bridge of his nose. Since when did he become so punitive? To think he had been the paragon of leniency and fairness when it came to meting out punishment towards misdemeanors, fraternization, and misappropriation of military hardware. But this was solid gold. And it was a bribe. And the objects of their transactions were people. Specifically Remnant people.
"What if she's dead?" posited Lieutenant Boyd.
That was the best case scenario for that trooper. The most important thing, above all else, was the gold.
"Sir?"
"An unfortunate casualty," Hsu replied evenly. "Keep me posted."
"Yes, sir." The military police commander paused before leaving. "... You got another bonus from him, didn't you? And Sergeant Atwater somehow fucked it up."
"Just do your job, lieutenant. And maintain strict correspondence over this with me and me alone."
She chuckled. "Understood, sir."
At least Lieutenant Boyd, another supposed paragon of strict military jurisprudence in the NCR, didn't ask for much when it came to extra pay for her compliance.
Weiss was ecstatic but she didn't show it.
It was improper of a young lady of her stature to be so openly excited. Then again, she wasn't in Atlas so there were no social norms to restrain any excitable behavior (and besides, her performance had her exhibiting far too much excitement). Still, out of respect for whatever social norms existed in the Wasteland, she maintained Atlesian decorum while everyone around her rakishly celebrated her wildly successful debut in the largest multi-purpose function hall in the Tops.
She had intended to unwind in her dressing room but Mister Torini had the whole crew of the Aces throw her an immediate afterparty. And her friends were also invited. Said friends were singing her praises alongside her fellow performers and the backstage staff. Weiss kept to water and specifically requested that no one among her fellow Beacon students (especially Yang and Nora) be served anything remotely alcoholic. She was not going to add property damage to tonight's festivities.
"Snowflake Starlet!" hooted Yang, juice sloshing in her glass and almost spilling over her yellow knee-length skirt. "Newest top-billed talent of New Vegas! Tickets sold out and even more tuning in on live radio, Ice Queen. You're going to be the richest out of all of us!"
"Barring your old man," bemusedly interjected Mister Torini, eliciting awkward laughs from the two teams.
Weiss's smile weakened. She had not seen anyone resembling Six in the audience. A part of her suspected that one tall shadow in the far back over by the cocktail lounge was him but the lighting was so poor over there and she was at the height of her show that she couldn't tell.
Mister Torini backpedaled, his one working eye bulging as he raised a placating hand. "Sorry for that. Didn't mean for it to come out that way."
"I'm sure your father's proud of you, Miss Schnee," asserted Mister Isaac. "All of us here think that."
Behind him, Mister Drifter raised his glass of whiskey to her. "Little missy, none of us here may know your pa the way you do. But I do hope you'd forgive me for opining that he ain't so open the way some folks are. Still, I'd be willing to bet, regardless of the circumstances, he would've liked the show."
"Six definitely would've loved it, mister mystery guitar man," Nora chirped. "Especially now that Weiss is getting a big paycheck out of this so she could cover for all of us and Six wouldn't have to worry about covering our costs anymore."
Ren quickly tugged his partner back while the other performers laughed.
"This isn't always about the dough, kids," Mister Torini said. "And our darling Starlet just showed us just how passionate she is about her musical choices, wouldn't you say?"
Weiss nodded. "It has been awhile since I last performed in this capacity. I do miss it and this had been very, very refreshing."
She did not add that she and the rest of her friends were strictly policed by Six when it came to their Huntsman activities. They had caused enough trouble already and she was on board with laying low and keeping to simpler, less intensive jobs...at least until their whole sordid affair with the NCR blowed over. Besides, employment at the Strip entailed a guaranteed salary alongside top-notch security, high-end amenities, and an avenue to establish mutual relationships with some local influential figures. Much better than eking it out in the desert and hoping that the next vendor they come across wouldn't shortchange them.
Weiss excused herself and moved across the function hall to the buffet table to refill her cup.
"That was a great performance," Blake remarked, suddenly beside her.
She nodded at her oft laconic teammate. "Thank you, Blake. You really like that maxi, huh. Compliments your bow."
"I don't always dress up but I figured tonight was a good excuse to try this on again." The cat faunus shifted to lean against the table, her bow twitching as she let the long slit in her black maxi reveal more of her leg. "Were your afterparties back in Atlas like this?"
"You mean this loud? No. Rather, they were far more formal with a lot of fake flattery and open politicking. I had to turn down a few flirters and endure some rather obnoxious guests. And that's when they were sober."
Blake winced. "Oh."
"They were fine. Though I do prefer this more jovial atmosphere." Weiss held up her glass, smirking. "And celebrating with people who actually do care about me."
Her teammate toasted back with her own. "We love you too, Weiss."
"Still not paying for your erotic literature."
The cat faunus rolled her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
The two of them idled by the buffet line, watching their fellow Beacon students make fools out of themselves with the other performers as one of them cranked up the volume on the jukebox to blast that Old World big band music.
"Did you see him?" Weiss asked softly.
Blake shook her head. "Sorry. There were so many people and you were really good up on stage so—"
"It's okay. Guess he was too busy." The heiress bit her lip, her voice dropping to a pained hum. "Fixing our messes out in the Wasteland and 'keeping things from going to shit' as he'd often say. As usual."
"Weiss, I'm pretty sure he showed up," her teammate assured.
"I suppose so. Not like he's the type to enjoy the limelight. Sitting up front, you know, 'mingling with the plebes' as they say back in Atlas."
Blake squeezed her hand, amber irises expressing assurance. "Six would've enjoyed it."
Weiss hummed, squeezing back. "Yeah. He would have."
"Having a moment there?" Yang interjected amusedly, shaking her empty glass. "And no, I haven't seen him in the crowd either. Doesn't mean he skipped."
"There's no alcohol here, Yang."
The blonde slung her arms around the two girls. "Come on, just here to huddle with our very own celeb. Say, you planning on jumpstarting a recording career? The entire show was recorded from start to finish and it'll be released soon as an exclusive live album. And guess what I heard: Mister Torini has connections with the big record labels in the Hub."
"I doubt we'd be heading west for any reason any time soon," Blake muttered.
"Bestie!" Ruby called, prancing over in her crimson halter (no heels this time, just doll shoes). "I have a couple ideas for your first solo album!"
"You're into songwriting, too, dolt?" Weiss playfully rebutted. "Let me guess: you want me to cover 'Red Like Roses,' huh."
"Admit it; you like that song. You sing it in the shower sometimes."
Across the hall, Nora dragged Pyrrha and Velvet along with her to dance on top of the billiards tables as the music transitioned from Frank Sinatra to Dean Martin. They twirled and hollered and repeatedly kicked their legs up high enough to make Jaune and Ren stiffly swivel on their heels to stare pointedly at the view of the Strip...behind very reflective glass pane windows.
Weiss blinked. Ruby blinked twice. Yang whistled. Blake tilted her head with a raised brow.
Huh.
Pyrrha's choice of underwear tonight was...interesting...to say the least. And that was on top of Nora and Velvet who decided to be a bit more provocative with what they got under there.
"No alcohol, huh," cooed the blonde.
"It's got to be Nora," the heiress groaned. "She had to have snuck in a flask or something."
"The punch didn't taste weird," the reaper recalled. "Maybe it was the food? The appetizers were kinda off."
The cat faunus sighed. "Please don't let this turn into another food fight."
"By the way, everyone," loudly announced Mister Torini, tuning down the jukebox and pausing the revelry (as well as gently pushing Nora's leg down with a pool cue to restore her modesty). "Just got word from Swank. It seems like teams...uh...what was it again?"
"RWBY-V and JNPR-S," Ruby corrected.
"Right. Well, you kids just got an exclusive a reservation up at our premier penthouse suite. Someone's waiting for you up in there."
The noise died down completely and heads turned. Weiss, in particular, felt her eyes bug out of her head. Someone? Did that mean that...?
Yang chuckled. "Wonder who that could be."
"Should we head upstairs right now?" Jaune asked.
"If you feel like keeping 'em waiting," Mister Torini remarked, casually snatching up the teen's drink. "I wouldn't."
The two teams exchanged looks then bid their farewells to the rest of the partiers and packed into the elevator at the end of the corridor outside the function hall. Not much was said between them during the ride to the top two floors of the Tops which was extensively renovated to accommodate the establishment's biggest and best penthouse suite. It was obvious who owned those entire two floors.
"Now this is the top of the Tops," Qrow quipped, having already occupied the bar of the best penthouse suite at the Tops complete with a premium view of the Strip and the impoverished communities outside its walls.
Winter and Glynda hovered over to the glass pane windows, bulletproof with the thick curtains pulled halfway back. The other casinos were glowing brightly across the Strip, multicolored lights pulsing like different hearts beating in the same body. Just across the Tops was the Ultra-Luxe, the massive black diamonds of New Vegas. Reflecting off the Ultra-Luxe's polished obsidian-colored glass panes were the pyrotechnics from Gomorrah, the ultimate den of carnal vice in Clark County.
And of course, dominating the skyline was the Lucky Thirty-Eight, currently unoccupied but unendingly alight. The nerve center of New Vegas. Home and headquarters of Courier Six. Also the registered permanent address of the Vegas Wonder Kids, per public records.
"If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought you ran the whole casino since you basically have the entire floor to yourself," Branwen continued as he began mixing his own cocktail.
"A whole floor of peeling drywall, decades of mold, and mutant termite colonies," countered Major Vickers. "Not a bad comp but Gomorrah's suites are cleaner."
Mister Tejada joined Branwen at the bar. "Boss paid a lot to fix this place up. Even got better plumbing here than in the Lucky Thirty-Eight."
Winter, Glynda, and Qrow eyed the ghoul in disbelief.
"Don't believe me? I don't blame you. But I've been Boss's technician for a good while now and I can tell you truthfully that the Lucky Thirty-Eight has some of the worst plumbing I've ever seen in the whole of New Vegas."
The Courier snorted. "Raul, don't sugarcoat how much of a nightmare it was trying to fix the godawful plumbing in that tower. Just looking at the floor plans gave me a headache. Holy shit, the waterworks are a giant mess and the pipes go on and on and on and into places they shouldn't even go."
"That's what happens when nobody asks questions during construction and nobody does maintenance for the next two hundred years."
"Nobody except robots?" Qrow piped.
"Robots with guns, cannons, lasers, and rockets," the ghoul droned. "Automation, you know. I would definitely trust those fighting machines to fix a broken fuse or change a lightbulb. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Brothers, you don't let up, huh." The veteran Huntsman poured himself a glass and planted a couple more on the marble top. "So what'll it be? Whiskey, vodka, scotch, or maybe I could whip you up a specialty out of—"
"I'd rather have that one on the shelf behind you, thank you."
"You know, I happen to make for a decent bartender. Had to mix my own drinks when I was out in the sticks—"
Mister Tejada pointed over his shoulder to an unopened bottle of tequila on the rack. "Just get me that, please."
"Suit yourself. What about you, Papa Sixer? What's your poison?"
Major Vickers frowned. "Stop calling me—ah, fuck it. Just water."
Stare. "... Just water?"
Nod. "Just water."
Brow furrowed. "You sure?"
Scowl. "I'm sure."
"... You really sure?"
"Pour me a glass of water, damn it."
"Okay then. Winter? Glynda?"
The two ladies settled for water and, with their cups filled, left the three men by the bar to settle onto one of the settees angled partially towards the windows. Moments later, Qrow sauntered over to admire the sights with his cocktail.
"Can't say it's breathtaking but at least it's better than ruins and sand," he commented.
"The Ultra-Luxe has a better view," quipped Mister Tejada, trudging close by.
"Not as good as the Lucky Thirty-Eight?"
The ghoul chuckled. "Way too high to see what's going on down there."
Qrow set his glass on an end table and leaned against the armrest next to Winter. His alcoholic musk drew her out of her musings and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Thought you got used to it," Branwen said.
"As if I'd admire the stench," the lieutenant retorted. "Can't you at least abstain for once? New Vegas doesn't seem like it would run out of liquor anytime soon."
"Hey, the desert dried me up. Need to fill up the tank."
Winter rolled her eyes and let the minute pass in silence with nothing but the noise of the outside humming through the walls. She was not in the mood to bicker with so much running around in her head. She was almost lost in her own musings when she heard Qrow speak up in a more somber tone.
"How're you two holding up?"
"Better at the moment," Glynda replied, having undone the shawl covering her collar.
The lieutenant chaffed as she scratched at the skin below her jaw. "Still acclimating."
"That's good. At least I don't have to keep worrying about you two suffocating." Branwen plopped himself down on the chase lounge opposite them. "The kids should be coming around soon. Excited?"
"That's one way to put it," the blonde answered. "And you, Qrow?"
"More or less. Winter?"
Winter rubbed at the device that had essentially become an extension of her body. Less akin to a third limb and more of a horrendous tumor strangling her airway. "... I can't think straight right now."
Another quiet minute.
Qrow leaned over. "Winter, you know...Weiss did great. One heck of a show. She... I mean, I... I could tell that she really put her heart and soul into it. With the orchestra and the dancing and all the pizzazz. Gave a hundred and ten percent. Just like you—"
"She was so happy singing up on that stage," the lieutenant croaked. "It's been so long since I last saw her...so lively and...and carefree..."
"When was the last time she had been?" Glynda posited softly.
"When I was still the heiress." Winter chuckled bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder if leaving Weiss and Whitley to fend for themselves against my parents was a good idea. Or I was just being selfish and only wanted to stop the suff...the pressures of being next-in-line to run the family business."
Qrow and Glynda exchanged glances with Mister Tejada, the respectful ghoul that he was, physically distancing himself from something he had no involvement in. Just then, there was a knock on the double doors. Soft and uneven.
Winter was already on her feet just as the Courier raised his voice from the bar.
"Come on in, kids!"
Raul had seen his fair share of heartwarming and heart-wrenching and most all of them were special. This was one of those moments that he was glad he was still around to witness. Nearly everyone in the suite went as still as statues, staring at each other like a dramatic scene from those pre-war telenovelas. The ghoul was tempted to plug his ears because things seemed about ready to get loud. And loud it did get.
"Uncle Qrow!" screeched both Miss Rose and Miss Xiao-Long, both girls darting towards Mister Birdman who received them with open arms (and somehow not double over from the impact of two bodies slamming into him at ridiculous speeds).
The man laughed and rubbed his nieces' scalps. "Missed me, girls?"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"You have no idea!"
"Heh, yeah, I missed you two, Ruby, Yang."
Raul sniggered until he noticed the star of the night standing rigid in her glittering white dress among her friends. Her lips were quivering and her eyes were watering.
"Winter?"
Lieutenant Schnee beamed, her own tears streaking down her cheeks. "Weiss."
The Snowflake Starlet sprinted to her sister, tossing her arms around her and bawling into her shoulder.
"Miss Goodwitch?" asked Miss Nikos.
Miss Goodwitch pushed up her glasses, an old teaching habit that did not hide how immensely relieved she must be at seeing them again. "Students. It's so good to see you again."
"Likewise, Miss Goodwitch," the redhead replied, all smiles with the rest of the little diablos.
Oddly, it was that rabbit girl Miss Scarlatina who did the honors of hugging the glasses lady, shoulders shaking while she mewled against the bulky slave collar that was now grabbing everyone's attention. They started talking about Remnant and a place called Beacon and people called Huntsmen and throwing around names and events that flew over his head.
With half the people in the room crying and the other half catching up, Raul wondered if he should disappear and let them have their moment. Then he saw the Courier by the bar, his back to the rest of them, pouring himself another glass of cold water. His hand was shaking a little as he did so; Boss was still fighting off the withdrawal.
"Winter, what's this?"
"It's a slave collar."
The ghoul twisted on his stool to see little Miss Schnee carefully fumbling with the cursed Legion tool around her sister's neck.
"Weiss, this isn't like any other collar," the lieutenant explained. "It's...it was made specifically to contain Huntsmen. People like me. People with Semblances and Auras. People who could fight back."
Weiss jiggled the thing and hissed. Across from her, Velvet did the same thing to the one around Miss Goodwitch's neck.
"Hold on," Mister Arc intoned. "Um, Miss Schnee? Uh, older Miss Schnee?"
"Just call me Winter."
"Right. Um, are you saying that...the Legion specifically made those just for you? Us, I mean? People like us? To stop Aura from regenerating or any Semblances from activating?"
"That's exactly what they're designed to do, Mister Arc," confirmed a morose Miss Goodwitch. "Unlike most other devices, ours were designed with materials far more durable."
"Okay, that's not right," remarked Miss Valkyrie. "If I had Magnhild, maybe I could—"
"You kids still have your weapons?" Birdman quipped, Ruby literally hanging off his right arm and Yang leaning on his left.
"Yep," the latter replied. "Though we had to leave them all behind at the Lucky Thirty-Eight. Can't really be waving them around or using them anywhere else."
"Why not?"
"House rules," echoed the Courier.
The suite went quiet. Little Miss Schnee detached from her sister, her hand folded neatly over her waist. Raul took a long sip as Boss slowly turned on his seat, tired green eyes cracked and weighted with an expression that was hard to read.
"Weiss, how was tonight?"
Winter became anxious when Weiss stood bracing for a lashing. Major Vickers was as physically imposing as General Ironwood—in fact, he was about as tall, if not taller, than the general. And though he slouched at the bar like a dejected drunk, he still exuded a palpable air of authority that was respected by people the likes of Mister Tejada, the Chairmen, and countless NCR troops.
"Weiss, how was tonight?"
"Good," her sister answered evenly. "Very good. We performed very admirably and received a standing ovation. I believe we delivered a superb—"
"You had fun?"
Weiss sputtered. "Ah, y-yes. Yes, I did. We all did."
He nodded into his glass. "Uh-huh. That's good, that's good. It is your big night, after all. The start of a new career that, ah, you...do you want to keep doin' that kinda thing? Gigs down at the Aces?"
"I...do, actually. It has been a long while since I've had to sing in front of an audience."
"That so? Well, keep at it and you'll be hosting your own shows around the Strip." He began fiddling with his Pip-Boy.
"I've only just begun."
"Everybody's gotta start somewhere. Be a waste to have you belting out hits in the shower, you know."
Winter's brows reached her forehead. It was difficult reconciling the reality that her sister and her friends all shared the same roof as this mailman. Now she was apprehensively curious as to how they lived together.
"With the Wasteland being what it is," Major Vickers continued morosely, his focus drifting across the shelf. "I mean...just listening to you singing... It's like a spell that knocks the nasties out o' your noggin for a while. Like a siren from one of those ancient stories."
Weiss preened, her cheeks red from the praise.
The Courier adjusted the volume on his Pip-Boy radio for everyone to hear Mister New Vegas echoing the sentiments of the people who tuned in. She was declared a rising star with her music career all but guaranteed. There was a lot of praise and a few callers phoning in to say how much they enjoyed what they heard.
Six soon tuned his Pip-Boy radio out and raised his glass towards her. "Tommy runs the show but you damn well won the crowd. I'd rather you be winning hearts and minds on the mic than trying to win a fight out in the desert."
"Six, I'm a Huntress."
"In-training. Wasn't it you barely finished your first year at Beacon or whatever the hell your school is called 'fore you ended up here? I ain't no Remnant man but I sure as hell see a long road ahead of you."
She put her hands on her hips. "Well, I don't see myself walking that road alone."
The mailman stared then chuckled. "No. No, you ain't."
Weiss beamed and inched closer. "So...you saw everything?"
"Made it to the main event."
"I see." Her excitement leaked through her tempered response. "That's wonderful! I thought...well, you were so busy and...I assumed that you wouldn't be able to attend so..."
"I'm not going to miss your big day. Not for anything in the world."
"Hate to butt in, Snowflake Starlet," Qrow interjected amusedly. "But just so you know, the big guy here made us double-time it to catch the show. He really wanted to make it in time."
"We all wanted to see you perform," Glynda added, turning to the rest of the students. "We wanted to see you all again."
Winter nodded when Weiss looked to her. "I missed...we missed you. All of you. For so, so long..."
Weiss's lip trembled. She spun on her heel and to everyone's surprise, including the Courier, she ran and threw her arms around him.
"Snowball, what—"
"Thank you!"
Major Vickers mimicked a trout hauled out of the aquarium much to the growing amusement of Branwen and Mister Tejada. Many of the students themselves were likewise surprised by the action with Miss Scarlatina chuckling into her palm and Miss Valkyrie cooing loudly.
"Thank you so much!" Weiss sobbed. "Thank you for bringing Winter here! Thank you for saving her and Miss Goodwitch and Ruby's uncle and, and, and..."
The Courier, stunned as he was, slowly snaked his arm around her, tapping her on the back. "Hey, now. Only doing what needed to be done to right some big wrongs done to you, sweetie."
Weiss extracted herself. "Apologies, I... It's just... I didn't see you in the crowd."
He wiped her tears off her cheek, almost pressing his forehead against hers. "I was there. I saw you sing. I saw you dance. I saw you pour your heart to the masses. I saw you, darling, and you were amazing up there on that stage...the most amazing you've ever been since I done found you out on those sands with all your friends."
Winter felt like she was in a time capsule. Her younger sister had never been this enlivened towards either of their parents when it came to their presence during a show, tugging on their sleeves, eager for praise or pining for validation. Not since her tenth birthday, that is. Past that, no one else but her or Klein truly mattered in that household. The lieutenant felt a pang of guilt for her absence during those formative years of her sister's life. Yet seeing such unusual behavior from Weiss...
The younger Schnee either had been in the Wasteland for so long or had been greatly influenced by the Courier. Or both. Whether for good or ill was hard to say at the moment. Right now, the lieutenant traced the edges of that same smile she saw back down in the theater. It lasted for a brief moment before he nudged Weiss away to check on his Pip-Boy, lips thinning into a frown.
"Well, I can't stay for long," he said, standing up and making his way to the exit. "No rest for the wicked as they say."
Weiss stepped away to let him pass, immediately resuming that classic Atlesian posture with her arms folded over her stomach. "Yes, of course! You're busy, um, with current affairs. As usual."
He paused halfway across the parlor. "... I'm still working on your NCR contracts."
"You have our contracts?" interjected Miss Scarlatina, echoing the surprise of the rest of the Vegas Wonder Kids.
"Does that mean we don't have to report back to General Hsu?" queried Miss Rose.
"You kids don't have to worry about any of that," Major Vickers echoed. "That's my job. You all settle down here in the Strip, keeping to the nine-to-five. For now."
"You don't have to keep pushing yourself for us, you know," offered Miss Belladonna. "Please, Six. This isn't just because you're not...I mean, you don't have what we have but...please, don't push yourself."
Winter caught Glynda furrowing her brow towards the faunus alongside much of the other students; it seemed that Miss Belladonna was not one to be quite verbal.
"I try not to, Kit," the mailman replied, resuming his gait until he was halfway out the ornate double doors.
"Six," Weiss called, hurrying towards him. "How...how much did it cost you to bring...to bring them back?"
The next minute passed wordlessly with the Courier slowly regarding her and everyone else in the suite. He tiredly pointed at Branwen.
"Birdman didn't cost me anything, apart from some very expensive tabs at the Wrangler—"
"I'll pay you back," Qrow hooted. "It's not much."
"Including property damages and medical expenses for the bouncers, you damn bird," shot back the mailman. "As for Snowstorm and Kansas here though..."
Winter raised her brow alongside Glynda.
"...it doesn't really matter how much they cost me."
"Buddy," Branwen piped. "You literally pulled out a solid—"
"Shut your trap, Birdman. I'm just trying to give back those ten years o' happiness that was done robbed of this poor girl by some Frosty-the-Snowman sum'bitch."
The Schnee siblings felt their jaws hang a little. Mister Tejada, however, shook his head and laughed softly into his tequila.
The Courier exhaled. "Look, I got to go. Raul will keep an eye on y'all."
The ghoul in question stopped laughing and stared.
"Don't give me that look, Raul. Show 'em around. Beds, showers, the works."
"They're staying here, Boss?"
"Just for tonight."
That provoked some excitement from the students, particularly Branwen's nieces and Miss Valkyrie.
Winter, however, kept in step with Weiss who followed the mailman halfway out the exit. "Six, wait. How much really did you expend for—"
"Weiss, you don't have to pay me back for any of this," he groaned. He dropped to a knee to match her level while he rested his hands on his shoulders. "If anything, I'm paying you back."
"Pay me back?" mouthed Weiss.
"I got your sister and here friends here, didn't I?" With a shaky hand pulling back a stray strand of her hair, Major Vickers pecked the younger Schnee on the forehead and departed down the corridor to the elevator.
Winter, standing directly next to her sister, looked over her shoulder to confirm that she was not the only person to witness this exchange.
"Didn't think they were that close," Qrow remarked as Winter accompanied her sister back into the parlor.
Mister Tejada shook his head. "Boss was never the sentimental type so he doesn't have a valve for how mushy he can get. If you ask me, he's way too stupidly prideful to admit that our little starlet's the reason why he's been laying off the bottle lately. Hopefully for good."
The lieutenant almost did a double-take. Her sister actually convinced that hardy Wastelander to give up drinking?
"That was a development," quipped Branwen. "Been hearing how much the bars have been raking off of his tab."
"And one day, he just stopped."
Whistle. "He quit cold turkey?"
"Pretty much," Yang answered. "Weiss and Six had a one-on-one sometime ago and ever since then, Six hasn't touched anything alcoholic. Pretty amazing given how much he was chugging daily."
Winter gawked at her sister. If Weiss had been able to talk such a vice out of such a man, how much more could someone less have done with someone like their mother? The thought made her heart sink.
"Was he...problematic when he was?" Glynda asked.
The students chorused nervous affirmatives.
"Holy Brothers... Did he hurt you? Any of you?"
"Not really," Ruby drawled. "I mean, not much. He wasn't...too rough on us? You see, Miss Goodwitch, there was this one time where we, uh, kind of, sort of, went somewhere we weren't supposed to and, um, well..."
"We went to this place called the Divide," Jaune chimed in. "It got really messy. Sounded simple at first though but, I guess, seeing how things are going out in the wilds... It turned out to be a lot more complicated than we thought."
"Complications of a grander scale," Blake added. "The NCR contracted us for a job in the Divide and Six didn't really appreciate that."
"And why is that?" Qrow pressed.
Ruby poked her fingers together. "Um, I don't know if we're supposed to tell you—"
"Mailman's got secret packages in the Divide." The veteran Huntsman shook his head and popped the cork off his second bottle off the top shelf. "And I take it that you messing around over there probably shook up whatever messed-up conspiracy's going on right now that had Papa Sixer showing up at the Old Mormon Fort for a one-on-one with the NCR head honcho."
Weiss blinked out of her reverie. "Pardon? The Old Mormon Fort? Is that where he went?"
"Just got back from there, señorita," the ghoul replied. "That is why we now have two lovely señoras here with us tonight. And a rather uncouth Señor Birdman trying to outdrink me right now."
Branwen shrugged. "Hey, it's free liquor."
"Don't drink it all."
"There were negotiations?" queried Ren.
"Deal-making to make up for some deal-breaking is what I got from it," Qrow quipped grimly. "You kids rattled a massive beehive."
"What happened at the Old Mormon Fort?" Weiss all but demanded.
The veteran Huntsman held back his response. He looked to an uneasy Winter then to an increasingly uneasy Glynda and then to a resigned Raul. The four of them collectively nodded and sat the students down for what would end up to be a rollercoaster ride of emotions as nearly every Remnant native present recounted what they had been through in the Wasteland.
This was a bust.
Neo had been waiting in the closet for about an hour now and neither Princess Snowflake nor anyone else for that matter come into the dressing room. Shifting into the illusion of a stagehand, she snuck back out onto the corridor where a bit of eavesdropping informed her of the irritating fact that most everybody had gone upstairs to party.
So much for a one-on-one with one of the Vegas Wonder Kids. By the looks of it, she might have to face all of them at once. And she had to admit that she had her limits when it came to taking on a bunch of Huntsman wannabes. Good enough quantity could still trump quality hence why Neo ended more than half of her engagements in escapes.
Shifting gears, she planned to lure one of them out and then strike. Crowded as this place was, there were still some vacancies which she could use to isolate her target. Now, if only she could figure out which floor they were on...
Qrow needed to get some air.
Relaying the details of the Courier's deal with General Hsu to a gaggle of callow Beacon students was about as difficult as explaining the birds and the bees to his nieces. And then there was the mental breakdown from Winter's little sister over the fact that her older sister was still collared. Glynda almost had one herself when she tried to spare some of the details of how Beacon fell. For years, he gave both those two women shit but he damn well gave them the highest respect for what they had to go through to get here.
Eventually, the kids had been so overloaded with emotion that Raul decided to call it a night. Qrow stayed a bit longer with his nieces to help process how much Remnant had gone tits up since their disappearance. Then he went to check on the others; so far, Winter and Glynda held themselves together for the sake of the students before they themselves retreated to their own bed to break down again.
By this point, most of the kids had clonked out. Except for two: Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren had to go downstairs (mostly it was Nora who insisted) to check up on their pet deathclaw named Syrup. Qrow offered to accompany them to the elevator, leaving Raul to hold down the suite. Also mainly because the ghoul had closed down the bar...forcing him to migrate to another bar. Preferably the ones below on the gambling floor.
His Semblance might complicate things though (and he did not want to be around a finicky Wasteland apex predator mutant leashed in a cage). Hence, he wasn't planning on staying long. He just needed a strong buzz to cap off his night then take a stroll down on the Strip. Maybe grab some take-out from the five-star menu and savor some of the eye-candy over at Gomorrah.
The elevator opened on the floor directly below the penthouse suite to let in two Tops custodians when Qrow caught movement down the corridor. He was out of the elevator in seconds.
"Where are you going?" Ren asked.
"Bathroom break. You go on ahead," he barked.
On the ding of the elevator doors sliding closed, Qrow sprinted around the corner and zeroed in on the figure, closing the gap in seconds and pinning her wrists above her head with his right hand. A kitchen knife dropped onto the carpet and he immediately stepped on the blade.
"What the fuck are you doing!?" he hissed.
Neopolitan glared daggers at him, her hip starting to twist.
He caught her leg with his left hand before it connected with his crotch. "Stop fucking around! What were you going to do?"
She huffed, her green eyes flashing two different colors for a moment.
"Damn it, we had an agreement to help each other out. Yeah, maybe our plan didn't exactly pan out but we're getting close to what we're both after so far."
Her jaw hung slack in disbelief.
"Don't give me that look. You know we both fucked up."
She scowled.
"And you." He narrowed his glare. "You gave the gold to the NCR, did you?"
Her lips curled a little.
No. No fucking way. His grip tightened on her wrists. "You gave the gold to the NCR. Did you? Did you?"
He was met by a smirk.
"You fucking...little minx. You still have the gold on you, don't you?"
The mocking mien she was giving him was infuriating.
Qrow had to mentally count from one to five to simmer down. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know what you just did? You were there! You heard what was going on. Were you even paying attention?"
The fact that she looked like she didn't care made his eye twitch.
"I can't believe you. Did you screw with the MPs on the street? Mess with the Chairmen, too? Anybody else you might have ruffled up with while you were tailing us?"
She shrugged.
"Look, Papa Sixer nearly sussed you out back in Freeside. It's hard enough keeping him distracted. And since I'm the one closest to him right now, how 'bout you let me do the talking for both of us, eh? That way, we save ourselves the extra trouble."
Neo wriggled under his grip.
Qrow dragged her over to the nearest door, his grip still tight on her wrists, and jiggled the knob. Unlocked. Good. They could talk in there.
She made another attempt to knee him and he blocked it with his shin.
"Quit it," he snarled. "You know what? I'm taking the gold. I'll hold onto it."
Her sudden glower almost made him roll his eyes. Kleptomaniac bitch. With a solid hold on her hands, he reached into her jacket, feeling for all the pockets and whatever secret satchel she may have hidden under her outer layers. Brothers, this whole scene looked so wrong but he had to do what he had to do to get that damn gold and hopefully rectify the damage this would cause because for all he knew General James Hsu was probably mustering a battalion to come banging on the gates of the Strip thinking he got ripped off.
The first thing he retrieved was her nine-millimeter sidearm that he tucked under his belt.
"Sneaky-sneaky, huh. How'd you get this past the bouncers?"
She held her tongue out to which he frisked around until he found what he expected: another pistol. He extracted the snub-nose six-shot revolver from the small of her back and tucked it in next to the nine-millimeter. Then he went for that carbine that she disassembled for travel and—yep, he found it, too. All of it bundled up in a travel pouch whose belt buckle was tucked under her bra...
Qrow met Neo in the eye.
The latter realized where his fingers rested and offered a malicious wink.
"I'm not interested." He unclipped the buckle and the pouch came loose, sliding off her back and hanging off her leg with the loop hooked around his pinky. "Stop squirming."
She squirmed harder.
"Make this easy for the both of us, you little piece of—"
He got it. He finally got the gold. Smooth bullion wrapped under his fingers. He dragged it out of her inner pocket just when he heard footsteps. In a flash, he opened the door and shoved Neo inside, hiding the gold in the rucksack under his crimson mantle with the carbine pouch dangling behind his thigh. Then he locked the closet and leaned against the door whistling to the ceiling in time for Courier Six to round the corner.
"Birdman, are you seriously so drunk that you were going to piss in the supply closet?" he droned.
"Nope."
"Can smell the booze off of you. Did you drink up half the shelf at the penthouse?"
"Almost. But your buddy thought I'd had enough and kicked me out." Good, keep playing the drunk act. Not that he was already drunk (slightly), just that he had sell that he in deeper than he actually was. "Shit, been holding it in, man."
The Courier thumbed over his shoulder. "Bathroom's back that way. You missed it."
"Really? Whoops."
"Why're you even on this floor?"
"Your buddy shut me out of the bar. Besides, I needed a walk."
"Can't ride the elevator 'cause you might puke in it, huh."
"Heh, yeah. What about you? Thought you had to go do some fixing or something."
"I was. Just had a quick chat with Swank."
"He the boss of this place?"
"Chairman of the Chairmen is the unofficial title." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's a little antsy tonight. Thinks the house is on a losing streak. Too many winners at the tables and the machines, they said."
Qrow whistled. "Unlucky night for the house, you think?"
"Bound to happen. You get one of those days. Keep telling him there ain't no Ocean Daniels trying to steal the casino vault under him or something. Lot of the locals here love those Old War heist movies."
Casino losing money? Too many gamblers winning? The veteran Huntsman managed to look goofy and aloof while inwardly cursing his Semblance. "He's probably paranoid. Wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't. I mean he is a casino boss and smarter folks who don't like casino bosses tend to be more subtle when going against them."
Six's green eyes narrowed, tracing his arm angled behind his cape and Neo's pouch hanging off his back. "Subtle, you say? You got something there?"
"Huh?"
Frown. "Come on, Birdman. Not in the mood for another song and dance."
"I don't know know what you mean."
The Courier's frown turned into a scowl. "Birdman."
Qrow shrugged. "I got nothing, man."
"Sure, you don't." In an instant, the mailman whipped out one of his revolvers, cocked and aimed at his legs.
The veteran Huntsman, on instinct, bounced back, pulling out Neo's pistols and leveling them akimbo towards the mailman.
Ka-plunk.
"Oh you goddamn birdbrain sum'bitch."
Oh shit.
Qrow glanced over his shoulder, spotting the gold bar sitting next to the carbine pouch inches from his left heel. And then he saw the Courier's fist rushing to meet his chin. He ducked in time to avoid it only to have the other slam into his gut (damn, he hit hard). Before he could recover, he was immediately slammed against the locked door hard enough to nearly break it off the hinges.
"Birdman, what. The Goddamn. Cockamamie. Horse-shit. Fuck!"
Deciding now was the time to stop fooling around, Qrow shoved the Courier off of him and dove for the gold bar. Superior Huntsman reflexes would work well here and he was confident he could physically get Six to back down so he could listen. Said reflexes screamed in his peripheries and he dodged the knife a bare second before it speared into the wall. He rolled to a stand, aiming both pistols at the mailman who still kept his revolver trailed at his chest; the bar of gold sat between them.
"You move fast for an old man," Qrow remarked, impressed.
"I'm ain't even fifty yet." The Courier whipped out another revolver. "You really trying to screw the pooch on me, Birdman? Think you're the only one who could sneak guns past the front desk?"
Smirk. "Gotta have a back-up for the back-up, amirite?"
"There's one way we could settle this and it'll get very loud."
The veteran Huntsman nodded. No sense in provoking a fight in here; the noise alone would alert the entire building and cause even more trouble that neither of them were inclined to deal with. Besides, them throwing each other around—shooting bullets, crashing through walls, potentially causing the whole building to go on lockdown—would really spoil little Weiss's big night which would make Ruby and Yang upset and would sure as hell piss off Winter as well as Glynda and the other kids too.
"Yeah, you're right," Qrow said, raising both hands to show that he was flicking the safeties on the pistols. "Let's go with the softer option."
"Start talking."
"So, you see..." Gods damn that Neo! That thieving piece of... He desperately put together a quick excuse. "I thought that maybe we could, uh, get some extra leverage on the NCR, you know."
"By ripping them off."
"No, no, no. Not that, really, I mean, but, you know. Contingency planning. Got to have a back-up for the back-up, like I said."
Six was not convinced. "Back-ups don't mean breaking deals and I'm not in the habit of breaking any more. Too much of that means a loss of trust and a loss of trust means players pulling out of the game at critical moments. I do not want that to happen again."
Again, huh. "I get it, I get it."
"No, you don't. You absolutely do not get it because you literally swiped the only damn thing I have that could get the Two-Headed Bear to fall in line for once! Jesus Christ, you're like a bad luck charm."
Qrow tittered. "Oh buddy, you have no idea..."
The Courier still kept him at gunpoint. "... You're not going to try to whoop my ass?"
He shrugged. "I just met up with my nieces after thinking they were dead for months. You honestly think I'd risk screwing up that reunion over this?"
"You're a Huntsman. Licensed, fully-fledged, and whatever it is that your nieces say 'cause they sometimes wouldn't shut the hell up about you. So far, I can tell you've been holding back. In Freeside, you could've done way more than let me and Raul have at you."
"Heh, could'a kicked you in the baby-maker while you were hissing in my face?"
"Could've done way more damage than you'd let on, Birdman. Why're you holding back?"
"We Huntsman aren't known for our restraint, alright? Property damage is part of the job and at the end of the day, there has to be justification for all that collateral."
"That so, huh. Is that why'd you cap yourself back there? You were being subtle? Careful?"
The veteran Huntsman glowered a little. "No collateral. I got principles. I'm not a maniac. There are places on Remnant that have seen better days but not a lot of them could hold a candle to what I saw in Freeside. The people there don't need to have their ghetto torn down again because of me beating you down with the gloves off. Besides, the NCR was nearby with a full battalion. You really want me to spell it out for you what else could've happened if I actually let loose?"
The mailman nodded. "Yeah... You have a point there. I guess that makes you a bit more decent than some folks that I know of. Still don't mean I'd risk you pulling a fast one on me. Now, come on. You know the drill."
"Heh. That's one way of saying you still trust me." Qrow tucked away his guns and, carefully avoiding the gold, bundled up the pieces of the carbine that he handed over to Six.
It was only after the latter had snugly put them away in his duffel that he finally holstered his own revolvers and collected the bullion. "The only reason I still trust your birdbrain ass is because it'd break Ruby's heart if I don't."
Branwen raised a brow at the phrasing. "Is that so?"
"I meant that she and her sister are going to be nagging at me non-stop. Do you know how much sleep I lost 'cause your niece ate up a whole box of Sugar Bombs? Expired, no less. Bouncing off the walls so hard I had to patch up several holes. Or maybe you can ask your other niece how she nearly started a goddamn riot in front of Gomorrah and cost me thousands of caps in fines!"
"You paid their fines?"
"They didn't exactly drop out of the sky with anything worth more than a bottle of piss," he snarled. "Great. Now I gotta think of something to fix this. All that spit at the Old Mormon Fort going to be for naught because of you."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I'm thinking!" He paced back and forth. "NCR knows about half the safe-houses in the Mojave. Don't got a lot of places to hide the kids in and they're going to be bouncing off the walls if they're idle for too long. Can't keep them in the tower for too long too though 'cause they might burn it down. Can't trust the casinos to accommodate them. Sewers are a no-go."
The veteran Huntsman started tapping at his own Pip-Boy. "I know a few hiding spots."
The Courier regarded him incredulously and then scoffed when the former showed him the handful of dots on his screen. "You sure as hell have been building up your own network around these parts, huh. Tell me, have you been in contact with anyone inside the NCR at all?"
"I met up with your guy Contreras more than a couple times. Don't know how you sniff 'em out but he's one hell of a supplier. Can get you anything—almost anything—you want for the right price."
"And there you have it. Now your hiding spots have been compromised. The NCR has a damn good intelligence network. Not as good as the Imperium, though, but good enough to be second best in this part of the continent. All it takes is for you to hold a conversation with one of them—even someone like Contreras—and you're on their watchlist."
Qrow nearly jumped into action when the Courier suddenly jiggled the lock to the supply closet.
"Good. Didn't break. Latches are still holding. No cracks in the wood so far. I'd hate to pay for any more repairs especially now that your nieces are all excited 'cause of you."
The veteran Huntsman hoped Neo wouldn't do anything rash or stupid. "What say we continue the chatter at the bar downstairs?"
Six took a while to acquiesce. "... Fine. Tops Restaurant, second floor VIP lounge. You're paying your own tab and I'll make sure you do."
"I'm not that poor. Meet you in about ten? Gotta drain the snake, you know."
"Don't make me wait any longer." With that, the Courier finally left.
Qrow breathed a sigh of relief and waited until he heard the elevator doors at the end of the corridor whir open and shut before he unlocked the supply closet. Except his partner-in-crime wasn't even inside. Flipping on the lights, he saw a stool planted in the middle of the room...directly below the ventilation shaft in the ceiling, its cover unlatched and hanging off the hinges.
"Gods damn it, Neo."
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: August 17, 2022
LAST EDITED: August 17, 2023
INITIALLY UPLOADED: August 15, 2023
NOTE: Quite the afterparty. The kids and the adults have now reunited and are catching up.
This chapter took a bit of a hit because during rewrites and editing, I accidentally deleted an entire section which I was intending to either be included as an omake/Director's Cut chapter or recycled into a future chapter. The scene itself was more wholesome (or trying to be more wholesome) with all the kids giving Six a big old group hug. Also, this chapter was more dialogue than anything and, being increasingly conscious of my writing, I decided to add in a bit of action in the end.
Now that most of the cast are reunited, things might simmer down. Or not. Either way, Six is going to be a bit busier than usual with 'Birdman' sliding between either an asset or a liability in his vision of the grand scheme of things.