A fresh blanket of mist covered the mountains of Mistral as the sun peeked through the gaps. From his new office, a tall man took a long drag from his cigar as he filtered through the list of new workers in his recent dust establishment. The building was by no means impressive, but it supplied the former warlord with all the utilities required to manufacture dust. Two wide conveyor belts occupied the middle of the room and stretched from one end of the room to the other. To the left, a set of stairs led to the upper floors where documents were filed and orders were taken.
As for means of transportation and delivery, two giant doors led to a spacious storehouse with a six-wheeled box truck. The vehicle wasn't worthy of being on the road yet, but the head of Reptile Dust Industries would get it fixed soon enough.
"Oi, Daz, are you there?"
Strolling through the front doors, Crocodile smirked at the frightened glances sent his way. While not many, the workforce he acquired proved to be diligent and devoted to the craft of dust. The majority of them bore Faunus traits, but the warlord couldn't care less even if he tried. As long as none of them pissed him off, they'd be given work and a fair pay stub at the end of the day.
"Over here, boss." His right hand replied.
Dressed in a simple black suit, the dark-skinned assassin of the west blue greeted his superior with a nod. Daz's position in the new company was one of security. It wasn't a hard job as the number of employees rounded out to fifty, and during his time in Baroque Works, he'd managed over one-hundred people at a time.
"How's the first day of business going? Any hiccups?" Crocodile lifted his golden hook toward the people positioned by the conveyer belts and they shivered.
Daz shrugged. "None so far, if anything I think the guys you hired are more than happy to be working for you."
"I see, on that note..." Without warning, Crocodile's body dispersed into a swirling cloud of sand. He sped beside the conveyor belt and knocked over a few workers along the way.
With a sudden yelp of pain, a rather short employee found themselves being hoisted into the air by the tip of a golden hook.
"I don't remember hiring you, so you'd better get talking before I throw you out." The warlord grunted.
"P-Please let me down!"
Crocodile curled a brow as the surrounding Faunus and humans distanced themselves and ceased production.
"You're voice is a tad high pitched to be a man's. Yet the tag on your overalls says, Joe."
"I-I was born with a girlish voice okay?! It's not my fault!" The worker pleaded to be put down, but Crocodile shook them violently in response.
Another yelp, the worker's hat slipped off to expose a pair of floppy dog ears.
"Huh, and here I thought that Joe's Faunus trait were bear ears. Not to mention your figure is oddly feminine." Crocodile's words shook the employee to their core.
A few brave men stepped forward but were halted by a stern glare from Daz. Though the assassin didn't know what his boss had planned, he'd known him long enough to tell when he was about to kill someone. And by the look on Crocodile's face, it didn't seem like the warlord wanted to shed any blood.
"If you're not Joe, then you must be his wife he told me about during his interview."
The sound of a pin dropping echoed through the now silent establishment.
"Y-Yes I am." The woman sobbed while raising her arms over her face.
"I take it you've got a big family waiting for you back in the slums right?" Crocodile's smirk widened as his captive could do nothing but furiously nod.
Releasing her from his hold, the woman fell on her rump with a yelp. The towering figure of the head of the RDI cast over her, the woman raised her arms once more in anticipation of a beating. A beating that, oddly enough, never came.
"Didn't your stupid husband tell you what I value?" The warlord spit the butt of his cigar on the ground and snuffed it out with the heel of his polished ebony shoes.
"P-Pardon?" The bewildered worker lowered her defenses.
"The things I desire are money and power, so tell me, does a crippled employee provide me with either?"
Fearing for her life the woman opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"The answer is no." Shifting through his coat pocket with his right hand and pulled out a checkbook. Scribbling a few numbers with a black pen, Crocodile ripped the piece of paper from his chequebook and dropped it on the woman's head.
"U-Um, is this supposed to be my husband's pink slip?" The trembling dog Faunus whimpered.
Crocodile rolled his eyes and frowned. "Just tell that moron to look after himself. I only have thirty people under me at the moment and your husband's expertise in refining dust is a valuable asset. He can have a two-week leave if need be, but if he can come back sooner then tell him to do so."
Observing the paper given to her, the woman's eyes widened and she almost ripped the item in half.
"O-One thousand lien?!" The woman screamed in shocked delight.
The jaws of the surrounding crowd hit the floor while Daz looked on with a small grin.
"If you're happy then get the hell out of my sight. But know that if I see you trying to pull off the same switcheroo stunt, it'll be more than your husband's job that'll get axed."
Taking the threat to heart, the dog Faunus jumped to her feet and repeatedly bowed in thanks. After what felt like an eternity of thanks and apologies, the woman ran out of the building faster than the wings of a hummingbird.
"Alright, that's enough watching you lazy blokes!" Crocodile announced.
The backs of his subordinates stiffening in response, they quickly got back to managing their loads as Daz walked over to his superior.
"That was rather sympathetic." He noted dryly.
"Hmph, I don't give a damn about charity work, but I want my employees desiring to work for me. After all, loyalty is a trait that's earned, not stolen." Crocodile grunted, but his words did reach those with enhanced hearing, earning himself another point of good reputation.
/-/
"Here we are, your grilled steaks with mashed potatoes and onion soup." The waitress placed the meals on the table with a cute smile.
"And a friendly reminder that the smoking area is located on the left side of the building, so please keep your cigarettes packed within the room." She beamed and politely excused herself.
Seated on the decks of a restaurant patio, Crocodile and Daz admired the view as airships flew over the countryside.
"That was rather kind of you back there." Daz hummed as he picked up a fork.
"Hmph, I'm playing for the long game. If I lose my pawns too early then all of my efforts would be for nothing." The warlord sighed and sipped his red wine.
"Still, I have to ask," his right hand dipped a spoonful of gravy on his mashed potatoes. "Why are we going down such an honest route? Wouldn't it be easier to take what we need?"
"Got a problem with how I'm running things?" Crocodile chuckled.
"Of course not, it's a nice change of pace actually, but aren't you worried about what the SDC will do once you've obtained a strong reputation? It's not uncommon for the bigger business to snuff out the smaller competitors. What if Jacques decides to play dirty? We don't really have the capital to fight back if we get into money issues."
Dabbing his lips with a napkin, the warlord scratched his chin with the tip of his hook and smirked.
"I'm not scared of that high classed prick. If he wants to fling some mud then I'm more than happy to return the favor. On the other hand, we need to establish a means of locating dust deposits. I'm skeptical about the bounty Mistral has, and Vacuo is under the grip of the SDC."
"Why not contact the black market? They're bound to have information in gathering dust, so maybe we can track where they're getting the stuff and get a few legal documents to make the territories ours?" Daz suggested.
"That's not gonna work." Crocodile grunted. "Most of the scum who deal in the shadows are leeches who raid transportation vehicles. That means the cargo they're selling is already mined and refined. I'm not interested in being a poacher."
Stabbing his fork into the succulent skin of his grilled steak, the warlord lifted his gaze from his meal then curled a brow at the scene of a rich-looking woman wailing about a stolen purse.
"That's strange, I didn't see any sketchy characters in the room, and this restaurant isn't known for thieves and the like." The west blue assassin commented.
"Some people are just unfortunate, that's the way this cruel world works." Crocodile sighed and went back to his food, but the furrowed eyebrows and long frown of his cohort garnered his attention.
"What's wrong, Daz?"
Patting his pockets, the dark-skinned man frowned. "My wallet is missing."
/-/
"Come on, Neo, we have to hurry before those rich snobs catch on." Called a kid, no more than seven years old, with slanted green eyes and messy orange hair. His white shirt and blue pants battered by dust and grime, the shoes he wore had plenty of holes.
His accomplice returned his orders with silence. Despite being a child, Neo was rather short for her age and was seen as a rare oddity by human standards. Her hair, split in two right down the middle, was a mix of brown and pink with her eyes mirroring the fact. Her green shirt and white pants no better than her cohort's, she struggled through the bathroom window and tossed her stolen goods to the grinning lad below.
"Oh man, what a jackpot!" The ginger exclaimed as he assisted Neo from the windowsill. "With this amount of dough, we won't have to steal for a whole three months!"
It had come to be a routine between the two thieves that whenever they were hungry, the boy would sit in an alleyway and watch as potential moneybags walked across the street. However, he preferred restaurants as their customers often dropped their guard once they were seated. As for Neo, she usually played the role of the wallet snatcher, seeing that her special gift made it easy for her to weave around without being noticed.
Counting their collected bounty, the ginger clapped his hands and shoved lien stacks and coins into a tussled backpack.
"Alright, now we just gotta skedaddle out of here and wait until the next day comes around." The boy knew enough not to push his luck after a successful crime, as the citizens and security would still be on the lookout for the ones responsible for their stolen goods.
"Tug~"
His attention dragged toward a hesitant pair of pink and brown, the boy glanced at the expensive leather wallets and purses he left behind.
"No can do, Neo, we're trying to eliminate any trails of our deed. If we get caught with familiar baggage, then we're guaranteed a place behind bars."
Neo nodded reluctantly and sighed. There was a nice bag that she wanted to keep, but she knew better than to go against her friend's orders. With content smiles, the two thieves made their way out of the shadows and onto the street then down a wide alleyway. They made it two blocks down before Neo bumped into a metal pole, or that's what she thought anyway. Shaking her head, she puffed her cheeks but quickly deflated them as a set of condescending gray pupils bore into her.
The stranger's olive-colored coat swished just below his ankles as the collar was decorated with fluffy tan fur. His broad shoulders fit under the coat quite well, and his muscular chest was emphasized by a light green cravat. However, it was the man's horizontal scar that reached from ear to ear and the large golden hook on his left hand that caught her attention.
"N-Neo!' The voice of her friend was shortly muffled by a large hand that snatched his throat.
Another man, this one with dark skin, a clean-shaven head, and a thin unibrow, hoisted the boy into the air with a neutral expression.
"Really, Mr. 1, you allowed yourself to get robbed by two brats?" The taller man pulled out a cigar and placed it between his lips.
"I never made any close contact with any of the staff, and no one bumped into me either. I don't know how they did it, but I bet they've got our money in this boy's backpack." The suited man replied.
"Hmph, don't tell me you've gotten soft. If a child managed to pick your pockets, then I might have to search for a new head of security." The hooked man smirked. "Still, the question remains, what should we do with these punks?"
Neo wanted to run, but she didn't want to leave the only friend she had. Choking for breath, the ginger kicked furiously, but his short legs barely made it past the suited man's elbow.
"Don't get any ideas now, I'm not a patient man when it comes to rats." The scarred man leaned forward, his shadow casting over the trembling girl as she defiantly stared back at him.
"Hoh? This one's got fire in her eyes, how about the other brat?"
Mr. 1 stared straight at the kid clutched in his grasp. He too showed a visage of anger, but perhaps this was due to him being dangled in the air by his throat.
"This one isn't like the other homeless bums," Daz concluded.
"I see..." The taller individual scratched his chin with the tip of his hook.
No matter how Neo looked at it, the ominous visage of the man who towered over her terrified her. Her nerves rattled, her semblance began to fidget and her eyes swapped color between pink and brown. This odd enigma confused most strangers, and maybe buy her a few seconds to snatch Roman and flee. However, to her shock, the hooked man never conceded his condescending glare. He merely arched a single brow and pulled out a lighter.
"You've got a name brat?" His words caught Neo off guard. Why was her name important to him? Was he secretly a member of the police, or a hunter keen on cramming down on the recent thefts in the area? That must be the reason he wanted her name, it was the only truth!
"Oi, I asked you a question."
Neo wanted to say something, anything that would get her and Roman out of this situation. But there was only one teensy problem... Neo had been mute since she could remember, so even if she wanted to scream, her throat would never allow it.
"Argh!" Mr. 1 winced as a set of teeth bit into his thumb.
Tumbling from the assassin's grasp, Roman scrambled over to his bewildered ally. "Now, Neo!"
The hooked man reached out to grab the girl but found his fingers grasping nothing but air. With the sound of shattering glass, Neo and Roman disappeared, leaving behind a confused pair of adults.
"Hmph, not a bad trick. I guess that's how those brats managed to get one over on you, Daz."
The assassin sighed in defeat. "It seems the lack of a challenge has made me soft. I should've slit the boy's throat with my devil fruit powers when I had the chance."
His boss laughed. "Don't be such a sore loser, those punks couldn't have gotten far, in fact, they're still in range."
Flexing his left hand, the warlord summoned a pocket-sized sandstorm that rapidly grew to the size of a small tornado.
"Sables!"
The hooked man flung his swirling creation into the air. Garbage and dirt flew into the mix, along with two petty thieves.
"No, my backpack!" The ginger cried as his stolen goods were pried from his fingers.
Lien bills danced around the sky, and as the sandstorm subsided, Neo and her cohort fell flat on their faces before the hooked gentleman.
"You tried to run, now it's time to pay the price." The scarred stranger stepped forward, but to his amusement, the ginger shot to his feet and threw up his arms.
"Do whatever the hell you want to me, but don't you dare touch Neo!"
The former warlord sneered. "Or what, are you really willing to exchange your life? What makes you think I'll honor your pathetic request after I've killed you?"
Roman shuddered. He knew how to throw a punch if need be, but the stranger before him felt like he was in a league of his own. Not to mention the suited man behind him, though he opted to lean against a stack of empty crates while his boss conducted business.
"Tug~" Roman peered over his shoulder and his breath hitched.
Neo looked absolutely terrified. With tears flooding her eyes, the color within them went into a swapping frenzy as her heart thundered under her chest. She didn't want to die! It wasn't her fault that she and Roman had to steal for their meals, but now they'd bitten off more than they could chew, and they were going to get skewered for it.
"Well, I want to get back to lunch, so let's get this over with shall we?" The hooked man stepped forward, his hook raised, the golden alloy reflected the warm sun rays that the pair of thieves assumed to be their last comfort on this god-forsaken earth.
"Run, Neo!" Roman shouted and jumped at the stranger. Knocking his fist against the tall man's jaw, he managed to draw a single teensy drop of blood but was swiftly sent headfirst against a brick wall.
The throat of his hook clamped around that of Roman's like a vice, the ginger flailed and continued to shout for Neo to escape. However, despite his desperate pleas, the little girl joined the action with a broken glass bottle. She aimed for the stranger's gut and shoved it as deep as she could.
"Sss..."
"W-What?" Roman's eyes widened as Neo stumbled back. The bottle no longer in her possession, it remained within the stranger's stomach but was surrounded by what appeared to be grainy sand.
"Not bad, but that's not where you want to stab if you're hoping to kill someone." Tossing Roman to the ground, the stranger loomed over the two of them as they hugged in their final moments.
Yet, to their surprise, the man kneeled in front of them with what almost seemed like a genuine smile.
"How about it, Mr. 1?"
"In my opinion, they passed." The assassin shrugged and walked over with his hands in his pant pockets.
The warlord chuckled. "Well then, are you hungry, or do you want to keep wallowing in these shitty streets while searching for bread crumbs?"
Roman blinked. He turned to Neo, who wore a similarly baffling visage.
"Um... What?"