Roman Torchwick scrutinized his newest protégé. They stood outside an eight-story condominium. The boy's hand hovered over the lobby door's handle like it was a woman's hip on a fourth date. And, like this hypothetical lady, the thief was waiting for a move to be made.
Cold night air had taken a toll on the living. A stroll across town in a headwind had left his cheeks rosy and nose runny. The interior promised sweet relief. Yet, they stayed rooted in place.
Their lurking had gone on for ten minutes. Any longer, and Roman feared the cops might be notified. He finally had enough and manifested at the hesitator's side.
"What's the hold up?"
Jaune jumped. "Don't do that!"
"I wouldn't have to if you went in. Seriously, what are we doing?"
"It's just… this is a flophouse, right?"
"A little more upscale than that, but yeah. Pretty much."
"So, there are a lot of criminals inside."
"Sure."
Half the Vale underground had leased or bought units in the area. The owners minded their own business and did not require background checks. Two things that everyone in the lifestyle appreciated.
"Won't I stick out? What if they decide I'm a narc?"
Roman's first tip for avoiding being negatively labeled would have been to refrain from using words like 'narc' and 'flophouse.' No one spoke like that outside of the movies. However, there would be time for lingo lessons later.
"It's late. I doubt anyone is hanging around except for security. If they are, they will be on their best behavior."
That was by design. No one liked having their work follow them home. Legal or otherwise.
Laying it out that way seemed to reassure Jaune. He squared his shoulders and finally opened the door. With the bravado of a cheesy action hero, he strolled into the lobby.
This fake confidence evaporated within seconds. For good reason. Their guard was rather intimidating.
Standing at a spot equidistant from the stairs and the elevator, he was the first thing any visitor would see upon entering. Not the marble flooring or the bas-relief sculptures that lined the walls. Everyone would take note of a wise guy in a blue blazer.
He was a tree of a man with olive skin and a crew-cut. Although wearing opaque sunglasses, his gaze was clearly on the late-night guest. Crossed arms allowed him to inconspicuously push his left hand inside his jacket.
If Jaune noticed this movement, Roman had no way of telling. The result was the same. He was frozen again and in need of another pep talk.
"We rehearsed this. Give him the password, and there will not be any trouble."
The boy blinked before inclining his head. With another person nearby, he would not try to respond. Talking to the wind was how unfortunate rumors started.
As Jaune approached, the spirit lagged. This was the first person Roman had encountered since coming down with a case of post-mortality. As a test, he began a flapping dance routine with plenty of waving hand motions.
One jig later and the guard had not moved an inch. His attention was solely focused on the approaching blond. Even the most stoic would have checked out a spontaneous Torchwick shuffle. This led to a startling conclusion.
Roman really was invisible.
Part of him believed there would be some sign of his presence in the physical world. Either a light, a sound, or something to prove he existed. That notion had been denied. Not for the first time, Roman wondered what he had become.
Existential dread aside, his curiosity peaked with the new information. This could not be normal. Roman was not so conceited as to think he could escape the cycle of life.
He was good. Maybe the best. But he wasn't that good.
Blind to these anxieties, Jaune reached the guard. Approaching in full armor did little to endear himself to the tank of a man. Neither did the dumb smile he used. This was a no-nonsense professional.
Getting the memo, Jaune spoke fast. "Forgot my umbrella. Rain gets on my wick."
The watchman sized the visitor up, evaluating for deception. His focus lingered on the sword. Even Roman started to get a touch nervous.
After a few seconds, the man's hand re-emerged from his clothing. Empty. He reached behind and pressed the call button. Distant dings of the elevator descending grew closer.
"Sorry to hear that, sir." The lift opened. "Have a good evening."
"You too."
Jaune skirted around to enter the chute. The guard made no attempt to stop him. He was completely unconcerned, having appropriately guessed that the boy was harmless.
"Nice going." Roman grinned, sliding beside Jaune.
"Thanks." He whispered. "Man, that was tense. What would have happened if I got the password wrong?"
"He would have shot you."
The teen's shocked expression coincided with the closing elevator.
III. Lights Out
When the doors reopened, they were on the top floor. A hallway of eight doors, four on each row, stretched out before them to a large window at the opposite end. The tiling underfoot was less ornate than the lobby, consisting of ceramic black and white checkerboard tiles beneath a clear resin.
"Which one is yours?" Jaune asked while stepping off.
"All of them."
It took a second for him to register that statement. "All!?"
"The whole floor."
Roman was not a fan of neighbors. They tended to get nosy. One loose tongue, and 'honest' cops would have been all over the place. Buying out the other units was the sensible solution.
"That could not have been cheap."
"The owner owed me a favor." Namely, she had been going through a nasty divorce with a land developer with more money than sense. Roman had provided his services to ensure a fair division of assets. "Don't worry about it. I sleep on the left side. The right is for guests."
"Okay…" He trailed off. "Which door though?"
"Doesn't matter. They all lead to the same place."
That settled, Roman phased through the first entrance easily. There was something liberating about not having to use doors anymore. Nothing could hold him. Although, it did make him wonder how he did not fall through the floor.
On cue his feet began to sink. Panicking, he clawed at space trying to stop the descent. At once, he rose. His feet were once again on the floor and not halfway through.
Evidently, his thoughts influenced the tangibility of his form.
He was still trying to figure out the rules of his afterlife. It was promising that he could project into other rooms without Jaune having to be present. All sorts of interesting possibilities emerged from that fact alone.
How far could he separate from his roommate? Were there any adverse effects to them? Did he want to press his luck and find out?
"Hey." Jaune's muffled voice came through the door. "Uh. Is there a key or...?"
"It's not locked."
"Oh."
There was no need to lock them. No one else came up to this floor unless invited. If they did, they were after more than a few appliances. A simple lock was not going to keep those characters out. Other measures existed for that kind of intrusion.
As Jaune entered, Roman was waiting with another question. "By the way, how well could you hear me out there?"
"Um. Pretty good."
"No interference?"
"None." His brows furrowed. "It's like you were standing next to me. Does that mean when you 'talk,' we are communicating telepathically?"
The kid had a brain. A surprising development given the bundle of nerves he presented to the world. Roman took note to watch out for that in the future. Smart people were difficult to fool.
"Could be." He allowed before pivoting. "Anyway, welcome to my humble abode."
Humble was certainly a modest word. Jaune had not initially noticed. Now that his attention had been drawn, his jaw dropped. As it should. Torchwick's pride soared whenever he brought someone else to soak in the atmosphere he had cultivated.
They currently stood in the den. Since taking over the top level, Roman had overseen extensive renovations to the floorplan. The biggest among them was that the wall that had divided two adjacent rooms had been knocked down to make it twice as big.
He made sure to furnish the insides with only the finest. Tasteful paintings. Imported carpeting from Vacuo. A climate-controlled wine cabinet filled with Grand Cru. Two crystal chandeliers over a long dining table. The greatest life had to offer.
Much like the apartment itself, these trappings were earned. Everything was sourced from the less deserving. Each piece had a long story behind it. All ended with the punchline of a dashing scoundrel sweeping in to gallantly relieve the upper crust of that possession.
Against the back end was the entertainment area. A projector screen covered the whole wall while a sectional that could fit twelve was arranged around the edges. All the better to viddy his escapades on the local news.
"Wow."
"Very much. Feel free to make yourself at home."
He looked around hesitantly. "Honestly, I'm kind of worn out. Do you mind if I turn in?"
Roman suppressed a frown while motioning to the double doors. "Master bedroom is through there, past the kitchen."
"Thanks."
Despite it only being two or three in the morning, Jaune was going to sleep. Dazzling the young man with extravagance was going to be difficult at this rate. Roman, not having anything better to do, trailed after him.
His annoyance grew as the dunce ignored the fully stacked pantry and industrial modeled appliances. A year had been spent pulling together the equipment needed to create gourmet meals. That Roman did not know how to cook was beside the point.
To ignore the decadence was sacrilege.
Once in the fourth section of the flat, Jaune paused. He took in the miniature study in the corner. Bookshelves stuffed with reference materials towered. A desk built from the timber of a decommissioned warship was cluttered with security schematics.
This was where the magic happened. Plans for future jobs were created here. The blond was once again uninterested in history. He instead made a beeline for the king-sized bed lifted from a Council member's house quarters.
Silk sheets stretched as the wannabe knight sat on the edge. He kicked off his trainers before unclipping sections of his armor. His eyes centered on the redundant protection before shifting to Roman.
"Can I stash my equipment somewhere? It feels weird leaving my stuff out."
"There is a cubby underneath. Use that."
He did not take long in finding the pull string at the foot of the frame. Tugging on it caused a wooden storage bin to slip out. Roman usually kept party favors under there but had not had a chance to restock in ages. Cinder's work had kept him occupied.
First to be set inside was the sword. It was a handsome thing. A standard blade tucked into a white sheath with gold trimmings. Ornate, yet undoubtedly sharp and well maintained.
In terms of complexity, the weapon was rather plain. The most notable function was the transforming sheath. Not too special in a world of fools with gun-scythes. However, simple tools were appealing in their own way.
What did stand out was the design. Roman had spent enough time inside museums to identify antiques. The coat of arms on the shield belonged to another time. Back when family alliances were stronger than a kingdom's borders.
Strong huntsmen could get away with using older weaponry. Newbies could not. Little details like these added up. To what, Roman was unsure.
"Why are you trying to become a huntsman anyway?"
"What brought this up?" Jaune asked while fiddling with his chest piece.
"Just thought I'd break the ice."
"Well, I want to protect people."
"You could become a cop or a wall guard. Both would be much more attainable."
And saner, he left off. Sneaking into a renowned huntsman academy was a bad idea to begin with. Not having the ability to plausibly pass for an initiate once accepted was downright suicidal.
"If it was easy, it would not be worth doing." Roman could have gagged at the trite expression. "Nothing against those professions, but I could achieve so much more as a huntsman. With the right opportunity, I could make a name for myself."
"This is about becoming famous?"
Jaune sucked in a huge breath before sighing. "Yeah. I guess so."
"Nothing wrong with that." The self-proclaimed burglar extraordinaire was no saint in that regard. "Though be warned. It takes years of intense training to become a huntsman. Children start younger than eight to be fit enough to get into a preparatory school for the bigger academies."
"I know."
"Also, the average huntsman only lasts around a decade before retiring."
"Yeah, but-"
"Or getting killed. At best, they trade their life away for a few years of being a big shot that no one will remember."
The teen kept his sight down. "You sound just like my parents."
The way his face contorted let Roman know he had hit a nerve. Jaune was trying to prove something. More useful information to exploit in the future. Having potential carrots to dangle was never a bad thing.
"I'm only pointing out there are safer alternatives."
"Why? Are you trying to get out of our deal?"
"Perish the thought. Just setting expectations. I'll help as much as I can. The rest will be up to you."
Suspicious, but without proof of ill intent, Jaune vaguely nodded before returning to the armor. At last, his chest plate slid away. When Roman got a peek at what lay underneath, he nearly choked.
"What is that?"
"What is what?" Jaune asked while slotting the now packed box back into place.
"That!" He pointed at the image on his torso. "That monstrosity!"
A cartoon rabbit's face adorned the fabric. The demon smiled back from the cursed garment. Its existence actively mocked the sensibilities of the fashionably inclined.
"Who? Pumpkin Pete? He's a cereal mascot."
"He's an abomination! Why, oh why, are you wearing such a thing?"
"It's comfortable and doesn't ride up." Then Jaune scratched his head. "I also sent in a lot of box tops to get him. Wouldn't it have been a waste not to wear it?"
"No." Roman needed to shut that down. "Get up. Time for your first trickery lesson."
"Really? Isn't it kind of late to start?"
"No time like the present. Come on."
He led them over to another door. With some prompting, Jaune opened it, revealing an expansive walk-in closet. Rows and rows of jackets, sweaters, and pants lined the insides.
"What's the lesson?" The teen asked in confusion.
"Roman's Rule number 3: Dress the part. If you want people to think you are a huntsman, look like one." Given their similar builds, the clothes would fit without much issue. "We are going to find you a proper outfit even if it takes all night."
/ / /
Leroy Browne was not in the best of moods.
The last few hours of his job had been tedious. Late night shifts usually were. Doubly so when he had to cover for a sick co-worker.
As a security guard for a co-op frequented by Vale's most wanted, his was a difficult position to occupy. He was required to look tough, be imposing, but also stay cordial. It was a challenge to balance those competing interests.
If he was too lenient, wise guys would step all over him. Too harsh and they might start a fight out of misplaced machismo. The trick was to give and take. To be firm and accommodating. To convey a willingness to bash a hood in the face but not follow through unless necessary.
After a few years on the job, Leroy believed he had settled into a comfortable groove. The rowdiest of guests had learned to respect him. However, there were always troublemakers to contend with. Someone new was always pushing their luck.
Nighttime especially brought out the creeps. The occasional bum, drug addict, or paparazzo would wander in around the evening hours. They usually came to understand this was not a place to loiter after a few choice words.
Not always though. Sometimes they tried to make a scene. That was when things got ugly.
Browne had been concerned when an armed fellow reeking of day-old trash had shown up in the lobby. He had naturally been suspicious. Luckily, the late arriver gave up a password without complaint. Turned out, he was an associate of Mr. Torchwick.
Those were the easy interactions. Leroy had let him pass without issue. The next visitor was not nearly as polite.
"What do you mean I can't go up?"
This new visitor was of a similar age to the previous one. Early twenties at the most. Hoary hair swooped over his similarly colored eyes and down to a conceited scowl.
His black and gray track suit gave him an athletic feel. Dark braces on his arms indicated a scrapper disposition. He had that certain look of being used to getting into violent arguments. The guard was on edge.
"Exactly what I said, sir." Leroy peered down his sunglasses. "Upstairs is by invitation only."
"I was here a week ago and didn't have any issues."
"Were you with another resident?" The boy grumbled in an affirmative manner. "We don't need to check them in."
The guards knew most of the tenants by name or reputation. They were not folks who would take an accosting well. That would have been detrimental to Browne's livelihood. Lone punks were not afforded the same considerations.
"Can't you let it slide? I'm supposed to meet a special lady friend."
"Call her then."
He rubbed his toe in the ground, trying to look demur. "It was supposed to be a surprise…"
Showing up at three in the morning was certainly surprising. Incredibly desperate as well. While Leroy's dating life was nothing to brag about, he knew that was a bad way to win favor from a sweetheart.
"Try flowers instead."
"C'mon, man! Look." He reached into his front pocket and pulled out some hard currency. "I got some lien with your name on it, right here."
Red and white cards were held out. About a day's worth of profit ready for the taking. A lesser person might have been tempted.
"That's not how we do things around here."
The potential damage to his reputation was not worth the short-term gain. Even if Leroy had been strapped for money, he still would have refused the bribe. This individual rubbed him the wrong way.
The innocence routine was dropped. "Are you stupid?"
"Pardon?"
"Pardon yourself." The silver mane sneered. "I'm giving you an out. I'd consider taking it."
After begging and bargaining had failed, they had moved on to threats. It would have been laughable if it were not so pathetic. Leroy cracked his neck.
"You're about ten years off from stepping to me, junior."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. How's this? I'm going up." He pointed to the ceiling with two fingers before turning them into a gun gesture. "And through you if you don't step aside."
"That right?"
"Yeah." There was a flare of light across his face. "You think you can stop me, all by your lonesome?"
As far as displays of power went, his was decent. Aura was intimidating in the right hands. The younger man clearly had some training if he could manage a physical manifestation without an external trigger.
"Nah. Not alone." Leroy conceded. The lad went to press the elevator button but was met with the end of a barrel. "With my scattergun though? That might do the trick."
A sawed-off in the face cooled him down, as was expected. Nine out of ten doctor's agreed that a point-blank blast of buckshot was bad for one's health, even with Aura. Hint taken, he backed away from the elevator slowly.
"Last chance buddy. You're going to regret this."
"Likewise." Leroy removed his glasses revealing his slitted irises.
"Didn't realize this was a territorial thing." He laughed while assuming a fighting stance. "Guess some animals never get domesticated."
"Are you done flapping your lips?"
The dangerous visitor shrugged before rushing at Leroy.
/ / /
"I don't know how I feel about this one."
"Pish posh. You look fantastic."
"Of course you would say that." Jaune turned to examine his profile in the mirror. "These are your clothes."
The style was a radical departure from the usual. While the dark slacks and polished shoes were somewhat familiar, the charcoal form fitting shirt had him feeling self-conscious. Helping somewhat was the white overcoat that fell to his thighs. Altogether, this was a leaner appearance when compared to the usual armor.
"Do I really need the scarf?" He rubbed the shirt matching material around his neck.
"That's not a scarf." Roman tutted. "It's a balaclava."
"Balawhata?"
"Think of it as a ski mask. You can use that bad boy to hide your identity."
Curious, Jaune pulled the fabric upwards. It was surprisingly stretchy. He was able to get the back half over the crown of his head. The lower section snapped into place over his nose. Only his eyes were visible.
"Wait, why would I need to do that?"
"No reason."
"Roman…"
"Don't freak out." A wonderful way to start a conversation. "But the people you are going to help me deal with are über dangerous. I did not stand a chance once they got their hooks in me. You, however, have an advantage I never did."
"They don't know me."
"Exactly. The longer we keep it that way, the better off you will be. Besides, we don't know if you will need this yet. We are just exploring options."
"Alright." The teen could accept that. "Although, even with a mask, this costume might be too distinctive."
"That is the point." The fashion guru leaned in. "If you ever need to disappear in a crowd, you can ditch the face covering and the jacket. They will be looking so hard for the man in a topcoat that they will miss the kid in a sweater."
"Then this is not my new huntsman attire?"
"Don't get hung up on that. Again, we're just testing out ideas. Some will work. Others will not. Embrace the process!"
Roman disappeared back into the closet. He was excited, moving about with limitless energy. Without a body of his own, he appeared incapable of fatigue. Already he was calling out other clothes to try on. They were currently on the fourth ensemble.
Jaune thought he might cry. This was like shopping with his sisters all over again. He wanted to sleep. That was unlikely to happen any time soon.
Before he could register a complaint, a high-pitched wail went off in the room. Jaune covered his ears while searching for the source. He was able to find the offender, a buzzing red Scroll, on top of a cabinet.
"Uh oh." Roman zoomed over. "You should answer that."
After flicking the on switch, the device came to life. On the projection was a high angle shot of the downstairs lobby. Two people were engaged in combat. The first was that scary doorman from before. The second was a slim guy with gray hair. They were currently wrestling for control of a shotgun.
"This is a live feed." The thief began to explain. "I installed a motion camera to give me a heads up if there was unusual movement down there. You know. In case of police raids or whatnot. Trouble's brewing."
"Definitely for your guard."
The teen winced as a flurry of kicks rained down on said man. A stiff one landed flush on his shoulder, driving him backward into a sculpture. He narrowly avoided another that obliterated the chiseled shape.
"Us too. That is Mercury Black. He's a lap dog of the woman I used to work for."
His previous employer. The lady who had barbecued Roman and that they were meant to take revenge on. Somehow. Jaune gulped while glued to the scene.
"Why is he here? Don't they think you are dead?"
"They're probably checking my hideouts for any incriminating information that could lead back to them. This is not good. I assumed we had a few days before they dropped by."
Jaune ran his hand through his hair as his heart began to beat fast. "Is he dangerous?"
"His father is a world class assassin. If she recruited the son, then he has to be comparable."
To his point, the fight downstairs was heavily one-sided. The guard kept trying to deploy his gun. With more speed than Jaune thought possible, Black maneuvered his way in to grab the toting arm.
With a painful wrist twist, he got his opponent to drop the weapon. The young hit man then began mauling the lobby guard. A one-two combination sent the much larger fellow skidding along the floor.
"I'll call the cops." He brought up the call menu while leaving the video on in the background.
"Don't bother." Another rally was cut off by a toe to the chin. "They would not get here in time. We'll have to take matters into our own hands. Go to my address book and find the name 'Abby.'"
Locating the contact was not difficult. It was one of the first entries. Jaune clicked the section as Black casually strolled over to the defeated.
"Found her."
"Great. Now for Roman's Rule number 5." He waved a digit over the call icon. "Always have an escape plan."
Jaune eagerly mashed the selection. Immediately, the room became an abyss. Even the Scroll video feed became impenetrably inky. He had to bring up the flashlight functionality to see ahead of him.
"What happened?"
"You triggered a kill switch I set up on the circuit breaker. The lights are out for the entire building. He'll have to use the stairs. Let's beat it before he finds us up here."
That would slow him down. A climb up that many steps would take a few minutes ordinarily. In the dark, it could take even longer. Jaune did see a problem with this solution though.
"Won't we have to use the stairs too?"
"There is more than one way down." Roman disappeared into the murk.
Jaune hesitated. "Wait! My sword!"
"No time. You're better off without the dead weight."
Leaving Crocea Mors behind felt like a betrayal. However, Roman was correct. Since he did not really know how to use the weapon, it was useless at his side. Also, the sword was too memorable. If he was trying to hide his identity, using a shield with the Arc family insignia emblazoned on the front was a bad idea.
At any rate, the heirloom was safer than him.
With a heavy heart, Jaune hurried in the direction of his guide. Using his new Scroll as a torch, he bumbled around the furniture. Eventually, he found the door out.
In the hallway again, he was relieved to find that the windows served a purpose. Moonlight suppressed the shadows. Roman was waiting for him by the elevator.
"Okay. Get this open." Jaune went for the panel before Roman amended his statement. "With your hands. No power. Remember?"
Slightly embarrassed, Jaune pried at the seam in the middle with his fingernails. He soon was able to press his index fingers in before his palms joined them. A pull opened the passageway. Inside was more darkness.
"Is there a ladder or-"
"Afraid not. You will have to use those cables to descend."
Dangling in the shaft were thick, vertical cords. They were likely used to raise and lower the elevator car. Jaune guessed he could slide down them like a climbing rope. He reached out for one only for Roman to speak up.
"Before jumping in, channel some Aura into your hands so you don't tear them up."
The novice nodded. Trying to recreate what had happened the last time he had used his soul, he stared at the appendages. They started to shake.
"Am I doing it right?"
"No. You look like you are tweaking." He sighed before coming closer. "Let's try this."
Roman disappeared in a haze. Jaune shivered as a pulse ran through him. The merging process was hard to explain. It was like a drop of water had disturbed a still pond. Suddenly the swell reached the tips of his fingers.
That odd peachy radiance returned to engulf his hands. "Wow."
"Focus on the descent. I'll keep the training wheels on."
Trusting that Roman knew what he was doing, Jaune reached out once more for the cable. Thanks to his long arms, he snagged it. There was no give. He had to commit. With a hop, he entered the chute.
A trill of fear bubbled up in his gut as he started to slip. His legs wrapped around the cord and he tightened his grip. That stopped his fall. Now he was dangling over the chasm.
"Here goes nothing." He whispered before loosening his hold.
Sliding steady increments, Jaune lowered himself. His hands felt perfectly fine, leading him to believe the Aura was stable. His thighs, on the other hand, started to chafe. He untangled his legs and instead used the soles of his shoes for guidance.
After a seemingly short trip, he hit the bottom. Or a bottom. The surface wiggled as he disembarked from the cable.
"We must be on top of the elevator."
The Arc looked for a way around. Unfortunately, the metal cube did not have much space around the sides. He had to settle for the double doors directly above. With a step up, he reached a sill to stand on while prying at the entrance.
There was a dimming overhead. Jaune looked up impulsively. That was a mistake. Mercury Black was glaring down at him.
They had been discovered.
Jaune raced to open the divider. As soon as he got the doors cracked, the top of the elevator violently rocked back and forth. Something had landed behind him.
A shove from behind sent him into the corridor. Toppling over, he stopped himself from headbutting the floor and stood again. He only traveled a few steps before being grabbed by the scruff of his neck.
"This power outage seemed too coincidental. Glad I hurried up there." Black chuckled as he pushed Jaune into a wall. "And what do I find? A masked man on Torchwick's floor trying to skip out while I'm distracted. Pretty suspicious."
Black batted away the weak attempts to push him away. After seeing the assassin's physical feats of strength, Jaune should have known he did not stand a chance. His life was over.
"Who are you? Did you work for Roman? What did he tell you?"
A pounding in his skull prevented Jaune from answering. Roman had re-emerged and was yelling for him to fight. To try anything. He had a hard time focusing as the grip on his throat tightened.
"Not going to talk? We'll see how long that lasts."
With a hand reaching for his face, life returned to Jaune. He began to flail wildly. The gesture seemed futile at first. All he managed to do was thump the wall with his fists.
The tactic did accomplish something. Nearby doors swung out as a few of the other tenants filed into the hallway. Black tensed up as guys in muscle shirts surrounded them.
They were rough looking customers, smelling of alcohol and bad decisions. Some scowled, already upset at the electrical outage. The crowd was obviously looking for a reason to start trouble. Jaune did the first thing he thought of and gave them one.
"Narc!" He pointed at who was holding him.
Everyone went quiet. They followed the finger to the other young man. Their gears began to turn. Average, law-abiding citizen would have stayed out of whatever was going on. The criminals came to a different conclusion.
"Get him!" Someone commanded.
One gang member, the closest of the bunch, went for a punch. While still holding Jaune, the assassin side-stepped the attack before delivering a knee to his attacker's stomach. A pop reminiscent of a firecracker accompanied the hit. The other man fell with a gasp.
Undeterred, two more took his place. With the numbers game against him, Black was forced to drop his quarry. He stepped in to engage, but not before slamming Jaune's head.
Plaster cracked as Jaune slid down on his butt. A crackling of light indicated his Aura took the brunt of the assault. His blood turned to ice when he glanced at one of the felled rescuers. The man lay face down with a pool of blood growing around his abdomen.
He was not moving.
Roman crouched beside the dead body. "Ooh. Right through the rib cage."
"H-he killed him."
"You won't last much longer. Get moving."
Jaune bobbed dumbly. At the same time, he did not know how he was going to do that. The stairwell was in the direction of the ensuing fight. More loud popping sounds convinced him that was not the way to go.
"Any other advice?"
"The window."
Jaune spun around to face the glass pane. "You've got to be kidding."
"You are only two or three stories up. Easy peasy."
That was an insane idea. Looking over at the brawl, he realized that was the best available. To punctuate the point, Black caught the side of someone's face with his boot. A sickening splatter and crunch urged Jaune to his feet.
A brisk pace had him at the window in no time. Searching the sides, he discovered there was no latch or lock. It was integrated into the wall. Stepping back, he threw a punch.
"Ah!" He gasped before rubbing his knuckles.
"What kind of weak sauce haymaker was that!" Roman shook his head. "These are impact resistant. You'll need a lot more force to break them."
"Then how-"
"Going somewhere?" A chilling voice called out.
Black was standing amongst a pile of bodies. A few twitched. Most were motionless. Trapped, all Jaune could do was watch as he was advanced upon.
Then a door slammed open. From the stairs emerged a battered man in a suit. His arrival drew Black's attention.
"Again? Bud, learn to stay down."
"Piss off." The doorman growled before raising his arm.
Jaune barely had time to fall out of the way before shots were fired. Black maneuvered out of the way of the pellet spread. An explosion of glass had caused shards to rain down on them both.
"Quick. The path is open!" Roman hollered as Black ran at the shooter.
His flight instincts taking over, Jaune shimmied up and over the threshold, letting his legs hang out. Deciding not to overthink things, he lowered himself as far as he could before letting go. The last image of the death-filled hallway was of the guard blocking a roundhouse kick.
And then he was falling.
It really was a short distance to the ground. Almost too short for Jaune to remember to engage his Aura. Self-preservation kicked in at the last moment and a splash of auburn protected him. Despite the assistance, he landed awkwardly. A muted pain vibrated up his legs.
Roman floated down next to him. "Almost home free. There is a sewer maintenance area around back. It doesn't go far, but there are plenty of exit points. Get in there and you can lose him!"
That was easier said than done. Jaune's legs were not cooperating. It felt like roller skates were strapped to his feet. Stumbling all the while, he inched his way forward. This was not fast enough for some people.
"He'll be on us soon. You must move! Now!"
"I'm trying!"
"Try harder! I don't want to die twice on the same night!"
The teen would have questioned his spiritual companion's priorities if he were not just as concerned. Mercury Black was ruthless. Jaune knew that he was dead if he was caught again.
Even with the heightened fear, he was not moving any faster. Half his body felt dead. He had a hard time lifting his feet. His knees buckled as he rounded the corner, causing him to kneel. Some kind of leg injury had occurred. A sprain or a tear. Either kind spelled disaster.
"I'm not going to make it at this rate."
The Arc looked around for a solution. He found one. Regretfully.
A green dumpster lay next to the building's storm drain. While he had hoped to steer clear of rubbish piles for the foreseeable future, it offered the only shelter to be found. Jaune hobbled his way over to find refuge amongst the refuse.
His hopes were almost instantaneously dashed. Two shiny padlocks kept the lid fastened shut. Probably to keep people from crawling inside, like in this exact scenario.
"Could we pick it?"
"With what tools?" A loud crash filled the air. "Hurry up! You're running out of time."
His words were not helping. Trying to stay calm, Jaune looked for another place to hide. There were slim pickings. All ahead was an empty lot.
As a last resort, he moved to the other side of the bin. He tried his hardest to wedge himself in the corner between the wall and the metal. While doing so, he curled up with his knees to his chest to be as small as possible.
"That's not going to work!"
"It's either this or stand out in the open." Jaune hissed.
This technique had served him well while playing hide and seek. His siblings always failed to check the most obvious places. In a way, this was a version of that game. The main difference was that this had much higher stakes.
Footsteps echoed. Soon enough, the silver-haired man came into view. He had passed the dumpster and stopped. His head went side-to-side, looking for any traces of his prey. The entire time he kept his back to the hiding spot.
For a moment, Jaune thought he might have gotten away. That was before his stalker turned around. They were now face to face.
Not wanting to watch his own death play out, Jaune closed his eyes tight. There he waited for the end. After a few seconds expired without him following suit, he opened a dark blue.
No one was there.
Confused, the spooked teen got to his feet. Half expecting the killer to be waiting, he stepped out from the dumpster and looked around. In the distance, a dark outline was getting farther away.
"Did he not see me?"
Roman also appeared confused. "Don't look at me. He had you dead to rights."
Counting his blessings, Jaune decided to walk in the opposite direction of the other boy. As he tried to leave, a strange phenomenon caught his attention. The air before him began to sparkle and glimmer. He tried to touch one of the shimmers.
A shattering sound rang out as reality crumbled around him. He nearly leapt out of his skin when a little girl with a mane of pink was left behind. She was dressed in dainty clothes with a bowler hat. Her back remained to them as she fiddled with a frilly parasol.
"Are you seeing this?"
"Sure am." Roman was smiling ear to ear. "Never expected to see her again. I guess someone out there must really like me."
A mystery lady with a connection to his newest teacher. That honestly did not surprise Jaune. Based on appearance, they had to be cut from the same cloth. She had protected them, in some fashion. As such, he owed her his gratitude.
"Thanks for the save." Jaune said while attempting to pull his mask down. "I thought I was a goner for sure."
The material clung tightly to his wet skin. Struggling more than he should have, he finally peeled the layer from his nose and down his neck. After what he had been through, the cold air felt nice and crisp.
The girl swiveled to where he could see half her face. A brown eye settled on him. She went unnaturally still.
"Miss? Are you-"
She then turned fully with a snarl. Pure unadulterated rage was all he registered. Suddenly, much quicker than he could react, the heel of a foot was flying at his face. Then everything went black.
Author Notes: Halloween weekend update? Halloween weekend update! Hope you enjoyed it.