Chapter Two: Breakfast For The Bosses

"Neo, time to leave."

Neo pulled herself upright on the couch, pulling Parasol over her shoulders and gazing at the two. Both were fully dressed, with Jaune carrying Rogue in one arm and his other on the door. Neo sighed, hopping up and following him.

Jaune opened the door, grabbing his keys from the nearby rack before shutting the door behind Neo—locking it mostly out of habit. He didn't have much to steal to begin with, and knowing his neighbors, no one would dare to try.

"Hey, Jaune? Have you seen Neo?"

His inner suspicion was confirmed when he looked up, seeing the tall, black-haired man staring at him. He was taller than even Jaune, currently clad in his signature black tuxedo shirt and vest combo—though his gloves were absent. Jaune turned to look behind him, finding that Neo had predictably vanished.

"You just missed her, Junior."

The older man sighed, running a hand down his face before staring at Jaune. He gave a faint smile as Rogue looked at him, the little girl smiling and waving the same way she would at everyone. "Good morning, Mr. Junior!"

Junior chuckled, reaching over and gently ruffling her hair. "Mornin' to you too, kiddo."

Junior leaned back slightly, turning to walk toward the stairs—Jaune following after him. "So, what's for breakfast?"

Jaune shrugged. "Depends: Should I predict it or let you decide?"

Junior shrugged, leaning slightly on the railing as he walked down the flight of stairs. "Predict it: What do I want?"

Jaune smirked, eyes flicking over Junior's face as a single finger from September tapped his wrist. He held up one finger. "You want six slices of sugar-cured ham and two pieces of french toast—along with a cup of coffee with two sugars, one cream."

Junior nodded, a faint smile on his face. "Right as always."

September retracted into Jaune as the two reached the bottom of the stairs, exiting into a rather spacious restaurant. Dozens of tables dotted the place, the dark hardwood floor balancing rather well with the faded walls. At the back wall, far from the glass doors, were stacks of chairs—put away to make for easier cleaning the night before.

Across from the door leading to the apartments, there was a set of double doors to the left of a large counter—exposing a large swath of kitchen behind them. That was where Jaune moved toward, stepping past Junior as he took a seat at one of the in-laid stools just across. "Tell me when it's ready."

Jaune walked into the kitchen, setting Rogue down before grabbing two hairnets. One he pulled over his own head, the smaller over Rogue's. Then, the two grabbed sets of disposable plastic gloves—perfectly sized for Jaune, but a little big on Rogue.

Jaune made his way to the oven as Rogue went about gathering ingredients she could carry, setting them on the small stool not far from Jaune. Meanwhile, the older Arc turned on the oven, gathering the ingredients Rogue couldn't carry.

Meanwhile, Junior simply stared on—somewhat in awe. The way Jaune moved in the kitchen was truly something to behold, flowing like water and hands cutting through the air like blades as he made breakfast. He wasn't quite sure how he did it, but he swore sometimes the food would move just before his hands.

As Jaune prepared the breakfast, he began the second most important part of making the food: Talking with the one who plans on eating it. "So, how's today looking, Junior? Any big plans?"

Junior nodded a few times, a frown crossing his face as he leaned on the desk. "Unfortunately. Have to deal with my supplier again—the old man keeps upping the price on me."

A bit of charisma.

Junior crossed his arms, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Not sure I can keep from punching him in the face, honestly. Especially if he hits on Miltia and Melanie again."

Scratch that, a LOT of charisma.

"How old is this guy, exactly? Aren't the twins only 22?"

Junior nodded. "Hence the problem. Takes all I've got to hold myself back when he starts flirting with them."

I'll throw in some restraint, while I'm at it.

He grabbed a nearby coffee pot and poured a mug for him. Then he added two sugars and a cream—imbuing a small bit of charisma into the drink as he did so. Based on what he heard, Junior'd need all he could get.

Jaune leaned back a bit as Junior started drinking, a faint smile on his face as September's infusions rapidly took effect. Already Junior began to sit a bit straighter, smile slightly wider, and speak in a slightly more commanding tone. Yet there was still a fair amount of tension in his stance, his body coiling as if bracing for an attack.

Jaune gave him a bright smile, flipping over the french toast pieces. "How about you, then? Things been going okay?"

Junior shrugged, sipping idly at the coffee as his eyes flicked to the door. "About as well as usual. Swear I spend most of the day telling people how to do something only to watch them fu—"

Junior froze, catching himself as Jaune gave him a faint glare.

"Uh…yeah. Swear no matter who I hire they become an idiot the moment they walk in my bar."

Definitely more restraint, as much charisma as I can fit, and a few dashes of patience.

By the time Jaune passed Junior the plate, he was slightly less tense—likely due to the second cup of coffee which Jaune had infused with patience.

As Junior ate, Jaune walked out of the kitchen. He made his way to the back, Rogue following as they started setting up chairs. Though, in reality, it was mostly Jaune setting up the chairs and Rogue holding onto the bottom—Jaune encouraging her and making her think she was genuinely helping him.

After he set up the chairs, he looked to the back of the restaurant. There, at the top of the wall, was a large clock. It currently read 8:25—just five minutes before he usually opened. Junior's taking his time today.

As he walked back to Junior, watching him finish off a piece of french toast, he felt a familiar warmth. The same warmth he'd felt when Neo's bruises started healing. This time, though, he felt it on the back of his neck—stretching almost all the way down his back.

Stopping behind Junior and staring at the back of his neck revealed, sure enough, what looked to be some kind of scarred over flesh. While he wasn't sure what had caused the wound, he winced even thinking about it being applied to him—especially given how large it must've been.

He made his way into the kitchen, not commenting on it as Junior finished up his breakfast. He slid the plate forward, reaching into his pocket and laying down thirty lien.

Jaune smiled. "Have a good day, Junior."

The older man smiled. "You know? I think I will."

Jaune watched as he walked to the door, unlocking it and changing the closed sign to open. After he left, Jaune set the money into a drop-down safe just a few feet to the right of his stove. It hadn't actually been the right amount—twelve Lien more than he would've actually charged him—but he'd learned long ago he couldn't argue with Junior. He'd pay what he thought the food was worth.

Which, given Jaune had never been underpaid by him, was fine in his book.

He started getting out ingredients, setting things up just the way he always did.

"Daddy! The sign!"

Jaune's brows furrowed before his eyes widened. "Oh! Right! Thanks, Rogue!"

He dashed out of the kitchen, heading to a door marked 'employees only' and pulling out a small, paper sign in a metal frame. It stood atop a metal pole just beneath, something he'd forgotten to grab after setting up the chairs. It read: "Order at the counter, take any available seat."

Probably not necessary for his regulars.

Though, useful if new people showed up.

No sooner had he walked back into the kitchen that he heard the door chime. He leaned out the area, giving the approaching man a practiced smile. "Welcome to Curative Cuisine! The usual, Roman?"

Roman Torchwick was probably the best-dressed customer Jaune could count among his regulars. Whenever he showed up, he was always—without fail—wearing his signature white suit and bowler hat. Though, the accessories were somewhat of a wildcard. Sometimes he wore a gray scarf, sometimes a black one—sometimes no scarf at all.

Today was a gray scarf day, along with his usual black gloves. Sure enough, in his left hand was a simple, gentleman's cane. Yet another constant with the man's outfit—the only thing missing being the cigar.

Jaune was quick to point this out, gesturing to his face. "Finally trying to kick the habit?"

Torchwick gave a faint smirk, left eye twitching slightly as he brushed his hair back a bit—exposing only a hint of the right side of his face. "Don't push it, yellow. I'd smoke in here too if I didn't promise you I wouldn't."

"What kind of crime boss cares about keeping promises?"

"One with standards."

Jaune chuckled, sending September forward and having him place a finger against Roman's wrist. Though, unlike Junior, Roman actually looked up at September, a faint smirk on his face. "I could've just told you."

"Were you going to tell me you wanted a Vacuoean-styled Omelet and Mistralean cider?"

Roman's eye widened a bit. "The cider's a surprise."

Jaune smiled, gathering eggs, cheese, and a few peppers. Not to mention a bit of chili powder—given he didn't have traditional Vacuoean spices on hand. Not when they cost a hundred lien for one bottle. Too niche to be worth the money.

And, as usual, Jaune struck up a conversation.

"So? How've things been?"

Roman leaned back a bit in his chair, letting out a low chuckle. "Oh, you're gonna have your work cut out for you when you hear this one."

Jaune gave a rare smirk. "Try me."

Roman nodded, laying his right elbow on the table, resting his face against it as the other gave grand, sweeping gestures. "So there we were—myself, Neo, and a few hired help that, frankly, didn't deserve to be hired. It seemed like a normal deal: Just a bit of Atlesian Ash—two kilos of it!"

Jaune's brows furrowed as he made the omelet. "Atlesian Ash?"

Roman frowned, scratching his chin for a moment. "Right, right, you probably wouldn't know what that is. Well, I don't know the specifics—ask Miltia, she's into all that chemistry stuff—but I know it gives one of the strongest highs this side of Mistral. It's incredibly valuable, and da—"

Roman clamped his mouth shut as Jaune glared, flicking his eyes toward Rogue.

Roman cleared his throat. "Sorry, forgot about little ears here. Anyway, it's a few thousand lien per gram, and it takes months to manufacture correctly! We were prepared to buy two kilos for 200,000 lien."

Jaune let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of money."

"Especially when I can sell them for 2,000 lien a gram."

Roman sighed, pouting slightly as he stared at the doors. "The guys show up, the money gets handed off—everything goes fine. Then, I go to open the case, and suddenly—"

Roman jerked back. "BOOM! Dust everywhere!"

Jaune's brow furrowed. "A bomb?"

"Yep."

Roman smiled slightly. "Lucky for me, I have one of the most capable assistants in the business. Money was gone before the others could do a thing about it. Lost six guys for nothing, and Neo ended up, uh…doing impromptu splits on a fence post."

Jaune nodded a few times, sprinkling in the chili powder. "Yeah, I found that out when Neo came for breakfast. She should be back in action soon enough."

Roman let out a small sigh of relief. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I've got another deal to make today and she's the one competent person I've got on the payroll."

Jaune nodded, having September pour a glass of cider as he worked on the omelet. "What's the deal about today?"

Roman shrugged. "Couple newbies trying to muscle in on my turf. I'd rather not have to kill them, but you know how it is."

I'll just give him the giant boost of charisma now—maybe sprinkle in some intimidation, too.

Roman leaned forward, taking the glass as Jaune passed it across the counter. He started sipping from it, a light orange aura glowing around him as the infusions began to work their way into him. "Not even mentioning how I've got to deal with B.B. Laz—man's terrifying, and that's coming from me!"

Alright, add some courage in. Better temper it with some restraint, too.

Jaune finished his omelet rather quickly, sliding it across before handing Roman some silverware as well. "One Vacuoean style omelet. Enjoy!"

"Knowing you? There's no way I can't."

Jaune kept the oven on as Roman ate, turning to look out the window and see a few people standing outside. While a few of them tried to look somewhat inconspicuous, most were just staring at the dangerous mob boss inside. All had vaguely frightened looks on their faces, eyes flicking between him and Jaune as they refused to enter the restaurant.

After a moment, Roman turned to look where Jaune was—seeing the people rapidly dashing away. He rolled his eyes, continuing to eat as Jaune crossed his arms. "Got quite a crowd this morning."

"Yep. Stupid paparazzi."

Jaune's eyes widened a little as he saw one push their way forward, opening the door.

"I don't think police officers are paparazzi."

Roman looked up, eye flicking to his left as he saw the large, burly police officer walk inside. His eye turned back to Jaune, asking a silent question.

Jaune sighed. "He's just doing his job, be gentle."

Roman gave a faint smirk, downing the rest of his food before rising from his place, smirking at the officer. "Here for breakfast as well, good sir?"

The man raised a gun. "Roman Torchwick, you're under arrest for armed robbery—"

Roman yawned, leaning against his cane as his other hand pulled out his wallet—tossing fifty lien at Jaune. "Conspiracy, attempted murder—yada yada yada—don't you pigs ever come up with something original? Come on, you've got so much material on me to work with!"

The officer gestured with his gun. "You have the right to remain silent—"

"No."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Roman smirked, leaning back slightly as the orange aura came back stronger from behind him. "I said no. I won't need to remain silent. Mostly since, if I had to exercise that right, you'd have actually caught me. Which, honestly, you get paid either way. After all, you pigs get paid—"

The officer tightened his grip on his gun, seemingly a bit unnerved. "Put your hands in the air or I will shoot!"

Roman chuckled, holding up his hands. Time seemed to slow as Roman's hands came up, cane slowly falling to the left. Then, he spoke three words: "Money for Nothing."

Jaune gathered the dirty silverware and dishes as Roman summoned his stand, emerging from his back. It manifested as a large figure—about the same size as September. The figure was vaguely humanoid, though it looked almost like it'd stepped out of a grainy, old picture. It was entirely in black, white, and shades of gray—its edges blurred slightly and barely defined.

On its chest was a large circle, with what looked to be various holes along the inner perimeter. These holes were all the same: A small diamond toward the circle's center, along with two rectangles pointing out from its sides, a larger diamond between them. A total of sixteen of them were in the circle, with six strings connecting the top and bottom one.

Wrapped around its forehead was the only splash of color on it: A red bandana. Said bandana was incredibly long, the two ends falling off the back of the stand's head before being attached to two, treble clef-shaped epaulets. Its eyes were hidden by a pair of black sunglasses, its hair a silver sheet of a mullet.

Of course, the officer didn't see this, only watching Torchwick raise his hands behind his head. He smirked at the officer, reaching into his hat as his stand approached him. "Let's see how you like my tune."

Jaune pulled Rogue to him, covering her ears.

Money for Nothing's gray, metallic hands rested on their opposite hips before rapidly striking across to its own side—sending out a booming shockwave.

The officer froze, muscles tensing as his eyes went blank.

Torchwick grabbed his cane a moment before it fell.

He walked toward him, patting the man's pockets until he, at last, produced his wallet. He took the lien from within, shoving it in his coat before tossing the wallet back on the counter. His eye flicked to Jaune, never losing his smirk as Money for Nothing retreated into him. "No mess—as requested."

Jaune nodded, rubbing his ears. "Thank you, Roman. You'd better bail before he wakes up."

"Then I bid you farewell."

Roman bolted out the doors, past the frozen pedestrians.

Jaune sighed, going back to cleaning.

Should've had September cover my ears, too.

…

Stand Name: Money for Nothing

Stand User: Roman Torchwick

Stats:

Power: C

Speed: A

Range: B

Persistence: C

Precision: C

Potential: B