It was the smell of anchovies that caused Jaune to stir. He became aware of how sore his neck was. When he sleepily tried to roll his shoulders, he found that his range of motion was limited. There was a hindrance he could not shake off.
Groggy eyes opened. The light tickled his brain to the point of nausea. Trying to bring his hands down to hide his face was equally useless. For some reason, his arms were extended over his head.
Tilting up, he saw that his wrists were bound. A yellow rope was wrapped tightly around the joints. The braid extended up to a wooden beam. It was drawn taut to keep him in place. His knees were under him, ankles tied together, in a supplicant pose.
His current location was easy to deduce. Even in his groggy state, he recognized the insides of the wharf-side shack. If the rustic setting and aromas did not jog his memory, then a certain freezer directly before him certainly did.
How he had arrived back at the property was uncertain. The whys of the moment were a little fuzzy. His last actions had been of running, hiding, and falling.
"...Roman?"
"Good! You're up from your nap." The red-haired thief exclaimed before appearing. "And here I thought you might never come to."
Jaune struggled to look around the sparsely lit room. "What happened?"
"You got laid out."
In the flashes of Jaune's mind, there was a hazy image of an incoming foot. His face stung in sympathy. Then he was here. There was nothing in between.
Roman carried on. "So, fun fact. Apparently, I stay conscious even when you are not."
"That's… That's nice. But-"
"Inconvenient, you mean." He scratched his ghostly chin. "For some reason, I can't speak through you when you're out to lunch."
"So-"
"If I could, I would have already talked to her."
"Her?"
There was a slam, as if a door had been kicked in. Heavy stomps approached him. A hand grasped his blond locks and pulled roughly. His neck bent back awkwardly. He was forced to look into mismatched pink and brown eyes.
No warmth could be found within. Only anger. Anger tinged with manic glee.
IV. Line in the Sand
This brief glance into madness ended when they let go. Jaune swung a bit before being brought back into alignment with the rest of his body. The whiplash resumed when he heard a cranking noise followed by a steady tug on his arms.
Pulled by the rope, he stretched uncomfortably upwards. Slowly he rose into the air. He regained the ability to stand, but it did not stop there. His raising continued. The sound and movement did not stop until his toes could barely touch the floor.
Struggling against the bindings did little to change the circumstances. He wiggled about until a cold palm smacked his hip. This rough touch stilled his movements. Soon after, his captor stepped out from behind him. They came around to the freezer with hands behind their back.
Registering first in his dulled head was that she was short. The girl came up to about his navel. At first glance, he would have thought she was a young kid. Pre-teen, if he were to be generous.
The clothing she wore told a different story. A white coat with pink frills covered a dark corset that emphasized her well-developed maturity. Thigh high boots rode up to a pair of black shorts.
Her hair followed a similar ornate scheme. Half chocolate and rosé with streaks of cream. On top was the bowler hat he had noted before blacking out. The accessory material was scorched in spots along the rim.
Lastly, there were those differently colored eyes. They judged him part and parcel. His whole existence felt under assault.
It was then that a silly fear occurred to him. Due to his position, he was certain that his stomach and underwear were now showing. Somehow that was the most mortifying thing he could imagine happening at that moment.
One of her hands came up to run along the freezer's lid. Fingers played with the cover before lifting it slightly. A meaningful look was sent his way. The loathing discovered there left him sweating and unable to speak.
She knew. She also knew that he knew. What she would do with this knowledge was yet to be seen. By the way her teeth grit together, Jaune knew whatever she decided would be painful.
The mystery woman crossed the space to stand underneath him. Something poked into his exposed belly. Due to the angle, Jaune could not see what she was doing. Whatever the object was, it tickled slightly through his clothing. He had to hold in a giggle as she pushed in.
There was a huff. The hat left his field of vision. She returned a few seconds later. Clattering accompanied something being set up. Then she was in his face, after having hopped onto an elevated surface.
She had retrieved a step stool.
Jaune laughed. Hard. The whole situation was ridiculous. He could not help himself.
His laughter died when gleaming metal was held up to his face for a close inspection. It belonged to the tip of a long knife. The pointed end lightly traced the skin from one side of his nose to the other. Not enough pressure was used to cut, but the intent was clear.
Suddenly he knew what she had been doing below. It was her turn to find humor in the experience. Her smile at the threat finally getting through was just short of euphoric.
"This has gone far enough." Roman declared as they merged. "Let me do the talking."
The teen was more than happy to let him do so. The way the cutting edge dragged across his skin was unnerving. Its owner's stare was even more so. There was no trace of forgiveness or mercy. Jaune was far too distracted to respond.
Whatever spell she weaved did not affect Roman. "How disappointing. I thought you were taught better than this."
Her nostrils flared. Sass given was responded to with a blade beneath their lips. This did not deter him, however.
"Never start the session with threats of violence. Like any good foreplay, you have to build to the climax."
In place of diplomacy, Roman had opted to antagonize. Not liking this turn-around, the edge pressed in harder.
Jaune almost whimpered.
"I will award you points for creativity. The winch was a nice touch. Really sets the mood. Instills a feeling of powerlessness."
The teen could not believe what was happening. This had turned into a full-on critique of her interrogation techniques. He may have been able to appreciate the discussion if he were not being subjected to them.
She also did not appreciate the lessons. Her hand came up to his throat. Fingers flexed around his windpipe intermittently to demonstrate her grip strength and how easily she could squeeze the air from him.
"We are all very impressed, Neo." The soul hitchhiker persisted in his comments as if nothing were happening. "Now, be a dear and let me down. A certain fiery strumpet needs to be dealt with."
For the first time, Jaune saw uncertainty in her. Confusion. The stranglehold loosened enough for him to suck in a breath. The thief pressed on.
"Or have you already forgotten? Whenever possible, we get even."
More befuddlements arose on her face. The phrase meant something to her. Enough for the knife hand to waver and pull back, at least.
Jaune had been afraid Roman was lying about knowing her. Now with space to breathe, he noted how similar her style was to the clothes he was currently wearing. In fact, quite a few items in the thief's closet were about the right size for her.
They must have been close.
"Seriously. It's me. Your pal. Your buddy. Your Roman. I know I look different…" Jaune felt a corner of his mouth lift. "But it's still me. I can explain this. Let me down first. You know I'm not into bondage."
Very close.
The knife came back up. Her hand was steady. The rest of her was not. Indecipherable emotions played across her face.
Roman broke the code. "Want me to prove it? Say something only I could say?"
Her nod was barely perceivable. Only a slight dip of the chin. Calculating irises watched his every move, ready to render a verdict.
"Nah. Trivia games bore me. You do what you got to do."
Blood drained from the bound teenager's face. Neo's hand came up swiftly. The knife flew out. Angled upwards, the airborne implement narrowly missed Jaune's nose. A few of his hair strands were split off.
He let out a terrified squeak on the way to the floor. His hands were suddenly in front of his body. A cleanly cut rope end landed in his lap. The knot around his wrists unwound itself without the tension, freeing the limbs.
Despite the abrupt freedom, he was not able to take advantage and run away. The multicolored terror loomed large over him. She moved in on the defenseless boy. He braced for the impending pain.
No malicious attack followed. Thin arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her slender form fit perfectly against him as a tiny face pressed into his chest.
There, a wetness grew. No hitches or sobs could be heard, but Jaune understood. His instincts to comfort kicked in. Despite all that had happened, he could not ignore a lady in distress.
"There, there." The woman stiffened as his newly freed arms encircled her waist. "It's going to be alright. Roman is still here. Kinda."
After a few pats on the back, Neo broke up the hug. Stepping back to gain distance, her guard was back up. Her puffy face demanded an explanation.
Roman spoke again. "Ah, right. My new container came with a sappy owner whom I am leasing from. His name is Jaune. Say hello to Neopolitan, Jaune."
Neopolitan. A fitting name. He hoped the theming also extended to her personality. Maybe there was a sweet, sensitive human being under all those threats of bodily harm. To bring that side of her out, he tried to be charming and upbeat.
"Hey there!" He gave his best 'winning' smile.
This friendly gesture was the wrong tactic. Her grimace might as well have been an invitation to walk off the pier. Roman tried to cover for him by taking over the conversation.
"Let's head upstairs. You won't believe the night I've had."
Jaune could agree with that sentiment. As he unwrapped his legs, Neo had already taken off, not bothering to help him up. She bound up a flight of stairs near the back. He wondered if he could have done something different before standing up.
"Huh?" He paused.
"What's up?"
"Oh. Nothing." Jaune reassured the voice in his head.
Just a pleasant surprise. He could have sworn he had injured his legs while jumping out of that apartment complex window. Now his extremities felt fine. Glad to have caught a lucky break, he followed the tri-colored girl.
/ / /
"Yoo-hoo! Detective! Over here!"
A woman with a microphone on the sidewalk opposite his destination was waving. Her white tresses with purple highlights flapped in a strong breeze. Behind her, a man pointed a shoulder mounted camera at the lawman to capture his hang-dog expression.
"Nuts." He knew he should have parked closer to the crime scene.
Earnie had been recognized. Pretending that he was not with the Vale Police Department would not work. His tan suit stood out too well in the dawn's early rays.
Acting like he had not heard her was also not an option. The camera was already on him. Backing away would make it look like he had something to hide.
Detective Shoat had learned the importance of regulating the public narrative. Not doing so allowed others to dictate the terms of an official inquiry. That did not mean he had to like this part of the job.
With huge misgivings, and a quick combing of his reddish hair, he approached the reporter.
"How can I help you?"
"Lisa Lavender. We are eager for an update."
"Ms. Lavender-"
"Lisa, please." She giggled.
That was not happening. "I just arrived. You probably know more than I do."
This was not an exaggeration. With scanners set to the local emergency frequencies, every beat reporter in the city had access to a more complete picture of what had gone down. He, on the other hand, only had scattered reports.
The real shocker was that there were not more news crews present. It must have still been too early for most reporters to schlep all the way to the outskirts of town. It was too early for him as well. He smothered a yawn.
"What about a quick statement regarding the nine found dead inside? Should the community be worried there is a killer on the loose?"
He shook his head. "The investigation is ongoing. We'll have a statement for you when we are ready to announce."
"So there really were nine bodies?"
The detective choked. Lavender grinned at having caught him tangentially confirming her story. He could have tried to recover, to deny the assertion, but his reaction was already immortalized on digital copy.
Walking back the statement was impossible. It would make the department look like a bunch of clowns, especially if they had to confirm the number later anyway. Not for the first time, Earnie wished he had stayed a patrol officer.
"I got to go."
His exit was neither graceful nor subtle. This was a full-blown retreat. Lavender let him go, happy with the captured material.
She waved him off. "Don't be a stranger."
Crossing the street to the condominium, heavy barricades blocked his path. He was forced to squeeze between two hurdles. A few years ago, this would have been impossible with his gut. Thanks to the diet his wife put him on, he fit through easily.
The front entrance was stationed by a single officer. Their stiff posture gave them away as being on sentry duty and not happy about it. After giving Earnie the once-over, they nodded a greeting before holding the door open.
Inside was a mess. What had once been a reception area resembled the aftermath of a demolition derby. Cracked marble and plaster coated the floors. A pillar had a chunk missing out of the middle. Covering the wreckage were flecks of crimson that mixed in.
Carefully stepping around the debris, he approached a blonde woman near the elevator. Based on the clipboard in her hand, she appeared to be in charge. She gave him her full attention when he introduced himself.
"Officer Shelly." She returned pleasantries. "Glad you're here, detective. We have a real mess on our hands."
"This doesn't look too bad." He looked around the lobby again. "Not great. I'd hate to be the poor part-timer who has to clean this up. But at least there aren't nine bodies strewn about the place like I heard outside."
"There weren't nine victims."
"Thank goodness." That number seemed too high.
"There were eleven."
And just like that, his sense of ease was erased. Eleven casualties from a single event. That was unheard of within Vale. The city was supposed to be safe. This contradicted that supposition.
"Where are they?"
"A few floors up." He made for the elevator but was told off. "That's no-go. Lab techs kicked us out. They do not want us up there. Said we disturbed the scene enough while we were searching for survivors."
"Guessing there weren't any."
"Oh. Yeah, there was one." She whipped out her Scroll, swiping on the screen before showing him a mug shot. "His name is-"
"Leroy Browne."
"You know him?"
"We're acquainted."
"Good, maybe you could get him to conversate with us. Had to call up the complex owner just to find out his name and that he works night security. We think someone attacked him before going up. Well, that is what I think."
"What are the other ideas floating around?" The detective did not want to discount any possibilities.
"The others found out he's a faunus."
Faunus: A person with extra animal features, usually in the form of a single characteristic, such as a tail or furry ears. They made up a minority of Vale's population. Earnie had already known this about Browne but was unsure of the relevance.
"And…?"
"The medics also determined he has his Aura unlocked. There were no records of his awakening. Put two-and-two together, and some are wondering if this was an act of terrorism. If Mr. Browne was an inside man for faunus extremists."
They thought he was with the White Fang. That particular organization had been waging a bloody campaign in other parts of Remnant. Especially inside the Kingdom of Atlas. Warnings had been given by their partners in the region that they might expand into Vale.
Having Aura was not a crime, but that Browne had tried to hide the fact was suspicious. Still, the detective was not buying that explanation. Not right then. There were too many leaps in logic to the idea.
"Until we find some evidence to the contrary, I am going to assume he is a victim."
"As you will. But it would help his case if he cooperated."
In a vacuum of information, the craziest of theories took root. Earnie would need to get Browne to talk. Such a witness would also make his job easier.
"You mentioned medics. How was he?"
"Conscious. Although he was beaten black and blue. They took him in to check for internal bleeding."
Then Earnie would have to visit Browne later. That was deemed acceptable. He needed to familiarize himself with the other victims anyway. Determining why they were targeted would help with any future questioning.
"OK. Could you put me in touch with our forensics team? I'd like a status update."
"We have a check-in scheduled in a few hours. Mind waiting around for that?"
"I'm in no rush."
This case would soon become front page news and, as such, a department priority. For now, no one up the command chain had noticed. Earnie would have to savor these moments of relative peace while he could. Soon, his life would become much more hectic.
/ / /
"Needless to say, I am not pleased."
His gaze was fixed on the floorboards. He knelt before an occupied couch while being chewed out. And not in a fun way, either.
"Do you have nothing to say for yourself?" The employer prodded further.
He gave a non-committal mumble of words. There was plenty to say. Events had gone wrong in a way he could not have anticipated. Given the circumstances, he believed he had adapted quite well. However, he knew excuses would not be tolerated.
"Look at me, Mercury." The young assassin did so. "Louder this time."
Cinder Fall peered down at him. Golden eyes burned holes in him. He wanted to look away. That stare promised consequences if he did so. Compliance was his only option.
"Mistakes were made."
"I was hoping for more context. How, exactly, did a straightforward search and elimination turn into fodder for the morning news?"
A TV in the corner buzzed. On the screen, the words 'High-Rise Massacre' were emblazoned across the right-corner of the picture. A trendy chick in an onyx suit spoke on-location into a microphone.
In the background, police could be seen surrounding the condo entrance. They parted briefly to allow a stretcher to pass. The camera zoomed in on a navy-blue body bag on top. It was obviously occupied.
"Told you he wouldn't manage on his own."
Emerald lay horizontal on the same couch nursing her wounds. Her head was cradled in Cinder's lap. With their positioning, she may have wanted to be nursed by her caretaker.
"It's easy to arm-chair while kicking your feet up." Mercury scowled.
She looked ready to argue. Cinder ran her hands through Emerald's green locks. The girl quieted down under the preening.
"Explain. Now."
"I was looking for leads." He began slowly, measuring his words. "Torchwick's apartment looked like a good place to start. There was resistance from some of the other tenants and a security guard. Things escalated."
What was supposed to be a simple information gathering session descended into a full-on brawl. His temper had gotten the best of him, but Mercury had a hard time understanding why. He prided himself on his emotional control.
The whole night was cursed. Between the firing, the betrayal, and his sudden responsibility of having to clean up the previous two, he was frazzled. Everyone he met pissed him off.
"Again. Self-evident." She sighed. "When I decided to bring you along, I had hoped you would be an asset. I will not lie. This has me reconsidering our existing arrangement."
Mercury stiffened. He did not want that.
"I'll do better."
"See that you do. Now, did you find anything of interest? I'd hate to think you risked public exposure with nothing to show for the attempt."
He did too. "There was one thing."
"Go on."
"Yeah." He licked his lips with a dry tongue. "There was this masked guy. He was sneaking around Torchwick's floor. Dressed like our old partner too and just as slippery. I had him in hand, but he managed to slip away during the scuffle."
Her brows angled inward. "Describe him."
"Tall. Blue eyes. Pretty sure he's blond or has light brown hair. Some strands were poking out from under his disguise."
"Gee, that really narrows it down." Emerald sniped.
Cinder shushed her. "Any other characteristics?
"Young. Definitely not any older than me or Em."
A teen, most likely. There was a whiny quality to his voice that cracked through when he had yelled out in the hallway. With only a one-word sample size though, Mercury was unwilling to place any money on that guess.
"Interesting." Her fingers raked Emerald's scalp. "And you said he was in Roman's attire. Could he have been an associate? What was he doing up there?"
Mercury shrugged. "Looking for valuables to pinch with his boss gone?"
The convalescent girl in the lap winced. "He would have had to have known Roman was KIA, right? Otherwise, that would have been dangerous to his health."
Torchwick was a scrapper. While Mercury was confident that he could have offed him, he knew the thief would have made him pay for the pleasure. Any random hoodlum would not have risked stealing from a person like that.
But if the masked man did know Roman was dead, how did he find out? Did Neo tell him? Or did he tell Neo?
"How would you describe his fighting style?" Cinder pushed on.
"Non-existent. Probably a novice."
"Yet he eluded you."
Somehow. Throwing those gang members into his path had been pathetic. Jumping out of the building was desperate. That he escaped was more luck than skill.
Saying that would not have painted Mercury in the best light.
"I underestimated him."
"Yes." Cinder nudged Emerald off her. She then wandered over to the TV to turn it off. "This appears to be a common issue."
"Ma'am?" Emerald questioned.
"Whether it is Roman, Neo, or this mystery man, we all have been underestimating our adversaries. Making snap judgements without considering the consequences."
The two helpers shared a glance. That was as close to admitting a mistake as either of them had ever heard from her before. Neither knew how to proceed. They waited on Cinder to tell them more.
"Starting tomorrow, we get back to business. We shall focus on procuring Dust. No other distractions will be tolerated. Everything else is secondary."
"Including Neo?" He asked.
"Let her run. Let them all run. Without Roman, they are of little concern."
The turnaround was hard to believe. She must have determined that chasing the murderous midget and her helper was not worth the headache. Emerald looked upset at not getting her own back for the stabbing but seemed to accept the order.
"And if she or the masked man get in our way again?"
An inferno engulfed Cinder's held-up fist. "Then I will personally reunite them with their dearly departed."
/ / /
"Write everything exactly as I say."
"I am!"
"At a snail's pace, maybe."
"You do it, then."
"I would if I could!"
The sight of a boy yelling at himself while scribbling on a blackboard would have arisen suspicion anywhere else. Within the confines of the attic, no one would say a word. The only other person in the room, in fact, could not.
It was for her that Roman had taken to vocalizing every command rather than speaking to Jaune mentally. Neo watched them from a worktable next to a pair of cot beds. The thief knew she liked to sharpen Hush while processing information.
Relaying the events that had led to their current predicament took a while. The sun was already beginning to rise. Most of their time was spent explaining Roman's side of the story to Jaune. Neo merely sat and listened.
Roman was relieved that she had taken a chance on them. That she had not slit their shared throats after finding his old body showed a great amount of restraint. He knew the temptation had been present. During Jaune's blackout, she had simulated doing so only to stop short several times.
Part of the crook wondered if she truly believed their story. The way she watched Jaune had him thinking she was looking for evidence of an elaborate ruse. Honestly, he was not sure he would fully trust them in her shoes either.
What had happened was fantastical. That had to be why she was playing along despite the doubt. The lie was so crazy that it wrapped around to being believable.
Or she was desperate to believe.
That teary hug had been out of character for her. So much so, Roman chose to ignore the outburst. Life and afterlife were easier without complicated feelings.
Hopefully she would settle down. Neo had always been skittish around new people. Not shy. Never that. Just suspicious of those that got close. Much like Roman.
That was why they made such a good team. Together they would fulfill Roman's Rule number twelve. They would have their revenge. The first step was to plan.
"Good enough. Let's see what we got." Jaune stopped writing. On the slate were a collection of names divided into categories. "There are three Cs we have to watch out for. Cops. Criminals. Cinder."
There was a hiss at the last item. Roman looked to Neo. Twitches of anger racked her face with each press of blade against whetstone.
"Cinder." Jaune tested the name.
"Let's start there. She is the most straightforward threat. If she catches us, we are dead. Avoid her at all costs."
Neo hissed again. He knew she would not like that philosophy. She would rather they attack directly and move on. Roman preferred that they did not risk their lives unless they were certain they could win.
"What does she look like?"
"Dark hair. Golden eyes. Evil to the core."
"That is not much to go on…"
"Not like I have any candid photos to show you." Cinder had always been careful to avoid cameras. "Don't worry about that. I'll let you know if she is close. It is her enforcers you need to be wary of. They are who you will most likely encounter."
"Mercury and Emerald." He drew a circle around the three names.
"You've met Mercury. Cindy's hired killer. Vicious and cunning, but exceedingly cocksure. I would not count on escaping him again that easily."
"And the other?" Jaune swallowed.
"Emerald is pretty conspicuous. Vibrant green hair. Petty thief. I don't know much about her background."
Other than brown-nosing, Roman was not sure what advantages she brought to Cinder's cabal. Her pickpocket skills were decent, but nothing compared to himself or Neo. She was not exceptional in combat either.
The red-eyed girl must have been useful in some other way. They had not advertised what that was. Figuring out her capabilities would be necessary for them to come up with countermeasures.
Jaune relaxed, probably thinking she was a pushover. Roman needed to dispel that myth. For both of their sakes.
"Assume she is the bigger threat of the two. In fact, assume everyone listed here is more treacherous and conniving than you. Never underestimate your foes or your friends."
That was one of his rules, after all. Number 2. Do not trust anyone.
"We have friends out there?"
"Eh, I misspoke. 'Allies' is more appropriate. No one out there would cry at my funeral." Neo had ceased working on her weapon to leer at them. "Anyway, we at least know where we stand with Cinder and company. I cannot say the same about the rest."
"What about the police? Won't they be against us?"
"Depends on the circumstances, hence why we added them to the board."
There were two dozen names under the 'Cops' heading. They ranged in stature from low level beat cops to administrators. An underlined phrase connected them all.
The Division.
That was the informal name of the collective. Originally, they had all been part of a special operations task force charged with infiltrating the underground. Then the Vale Council learned about questionable deals they had made with criminals. After the revelation, they were officially forced to break up.
There was much fanfare around the act, but VPD did not fire any of the officers involved. They simply shuffled them to desk duty for a few years. That allowed the Division to keep their heads down and silently regain their positions of power.
Which worked for Roman just fine. Having reliable partners on the police force had its advantages. He was more than happy to use them in his war against Cinder.
"And these are the crooked ones." The pretend hero stated miserably. "There are so many."
"Don't be mistaken. All cops are crooked. These are just the ones I know we can do business with."
"Surely not all cops." Jaune muttered.
"Yes. All cops. They are all for sale."
You just had to know the right price. The only difference between a gangster and a cop was a badge. Being sanctioned by the city did not make them beyond reproach.
Knowing this was not an argument he was going to win right away, Roman moved on. "Lastly, there are the criminals."
There were a lot of groups they could approach. Numerous mobsters and crooks roamed the city. A few inter-kingdom cartels as well. Most were not worth the trouble of contacting directly. Roman listed the two leaders that were.
"Hei 'Junior' Xiong." Jaune read the first name. "And Madam Amour. Who are they?"
"Information brokers. Junior runs a gang out of a bar downtown. Madam A operates a Burlesque club uptown. Between the two, a mafioso can't sneeze without them finding out."
"So, with them and the cops, we should be able to track down Cinder."
"If all of them help us, sure. No sweat. I have a feeling though that it will not be that easy."
"Why's that?"
"Because there is no guarantee they will help. Take Junior, for example. He and I have a very long and complicated history together. It was some of his men that I used in the robbery last night. He may be less inclined to do so again after they got pinched."
Not unless he found a way of making restitution for the arrests. Even then, Junior may hold back support out of spite. They really did not like each other.
Neo's angry stab into the table made clear that she held a similar view of the Xiong.
"Doesn't that make him an enemy?"
"Ah, but we can't rule him out yet." He chided his pupil. "Think of it like this. There is a line in the sand between us and Cinder. We have to find out where that line was drawn and who is on which side."
The metaphor was appropriate in many ways. There were no hard defined 'sides' as far as the others were concerned. The lines could be drawn, erased, and redrawn at a moment's notice. Today's ally could be tomorrow's enemy.
"Okay, enough talk. Time for action. Neo?" His partner was up in an instant. "I need you to sneak into our hideouts and gather supplies. Money, tech, anything that might be useful. Cops will be around my flat and Cinder's people might be watching. Be careful."
Neo gave a thumbs up. Before going, Jaune made an additional request. "Could you please also grab my huntsman equipment? If nothing else, at least Crocea Mors. It's important to me."
She raised an eyebrow at his request. Probably wondering if he was serious. Or much more likely wondering what a Crocea Mors even was.
"His stuff is in a box under my bed. A simple sword and some armor. Should be easy enough to carry out." Roman weighed in.
"Please, Neo. I'll owe you one."
Rolling her eyes, she nodded. Keeping Jaune happy was important for his continued cooperation. Just as quickly, she was skipping down the stairs. They then heard the door to the shack open and close.
"Do you think she is upset with me?" He asked the spirit.
Alone again, Roman split from his host. "What makes you think that?"
"She has not said a single word to me."
"Of course not. She is incapable of speech." The teen did a double take towards the stairwell. "You didn't realize she was mute?"
"I-I did." He looked away. "I do. Now."
The kid was an enigma. Sometimes he came across as naïvely brilliant. Other times as a complete numbskull. Roman would have to make do with what was available and nurture that more useful part of him.
"While she is out, our job will be to get a lay of the land. Go around to our 'friends' and find out if we can rely on them." Jaune agreed to the proposal immediately. "We will start this evening."
"Why wait?"
"It will be easier to sneak around at night. Plus, you look like you need a power nap."
"Hmmm. Yeah." He yawned. "That sounds wonderful."
Jaune crawled into the collapsible bed in the corner. The sheets had never been washed, not that he seemed to mind. Within moments of laying down, he was asleep.
"Finally." The ghost dove into the arm of the sleeping boy.
He restarted the experiments he had begun while Jaune was unconscious. If Roman could move the mouth, there was no rational reason he could not control other parts. While he had not been successful earlier, sleeping was different from being knocked out.
Roman started small. Moving a finger would be a good first step. A simple wiggle to know he was on the right track.
An hour passed as he concentrated on the hand. He focused all his attention. Poured every ounce of mental fortitude into this one feat. Then it happened.
There was a twitch.