Chapter Nine: The Seamstress Part I
Two men approached Vale General Hospital.
The first was a brute of a man, just reaching seven feet tall. His eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses with strange orbs on the top of them, his hair by a black fedora with a single, dark-purple band around the center. Across his chest was a single leather strap, clipping a black coat that fell to his knees across his bare chest—exposing rippling, tanned muscles.
A pair of jeans were tucked into black boots, his arms crossed as he adamantly refused to use the sleeves on the jacket for their intended purpose. He glared at the other figure, mouth twisting as a deep, smooth voice slipped out. "Couldn't have been later, Switch?"
The other man was the opposite of the first in most senses of the word. Where the first was over seven feet, this one barely hit five. He was clad in a rather strange coat. Directly down the center it was split between black and red, with the left half being a red, high-waisted trench coat as the right was a black copy of the same thing.
His pants and shoes were the same way, one side of him red while the other was black. His eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses identical to the first man's, his hair long and curly to reveal it a bright auburn. "Sorry, Confounder. You know how it is—kids had to be put to bed first."
Naturally, neither of them used their real names.
Confounder approached the front door first, tapping the side of his glasses. As he did so, the orbs along the top lit up a bright purple—shining light at the cameras to conceal his face. He held out his hand, focusing as a thin, light-purple fog rolled into the hospital.
A few seconds later, he walked ahead.
Switch followed, smiling as he saw the receptionist and several nurses at the front desk sleeping. "Seems you can handle this just fine. Why am I here again?"
"Egat's a stand-user—you're here if he tries anything funny."
Switch rolled his eyes as the two entered the elevator, heading for Egat's room. It hadn't been hard to find it—a few well-placed bribes at the hospital could get you pretty far. The two waited in the elevator's third floor as Confounder sent more mist forward, waiting a few seconds before moving through it.
The guard stationed outside Egat's room was fast asleep when they arrived. Confounder pulled open the door, smirking as he saw Egat laying in bed, staring wide-eyed at him. It was moments like this he was thankful stand-users were more resilient against him—made interrogating him easier.
Egat's beady eyes flicked between the two before he gulped, gently tugging against the handcuff that kept him in bed. "Confounder, Switch…I umm—to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Switch smirked. "You know B.B. doesn't like snitches, Winchester."
The man's eyes widened. "I haven't told them one fu—"
Confounder slammed his fist into Egat's stomach.
The older man doubled over on his bed, hand bending at an awkward angle thanks to the handcuffs. He sputtered and coughed, trying to catch his breath as Confounder cracked his knuckles. "Did you think you could fool Keeper, Egat? Think you could get away from me?"
The purple-tinted fog around Confounder grew thicker.
Egat grit his teeth. "Su—Song bird!"
The black, squid-like stand emerged from Egat, tendrils swinging toward Confounder. A quick strike to his throat should get rid of this damn fog—then I can deal with Switch!
A golden hand caught the tendrils.
That golden hand came from a figure that bore a remarkable resemblance to Switch, with its left half a brilliant gold while the right more resembled marble. It looked almost like a statue, with few details other than a thick mane of curly hair—split colorwise down the middle. Its marble hand drew an equally marble saber, slicing down through the air.
The fog split, creating a thin, white line in the air that the stand moved towards. Egat's eyes widened as his stand and Switches' moved through that line, disappearing from view as the line vanished.
Confounder turned, giving a faint smirk to Switch. "That's why you're here."
He turned back to Egat, the older man looking far more afraid at the much taller figure of Confounder staring him down, cracking his knuckles. "I only told them I worked for the boss! That's it! Nothing else!"
Confounder sat on the end of the bed, blowing out a cloud of the purple vapor toward Egat—the older man coughing as he felt his vision blurring. "Who took you down, Egat? You've got a few minutes before my stand kills you—just tell me. I'll get your revenge for you."
Egat's eyes widened. "I—I put in years of loyal service! I've been with Laz since—"
POW!
Egat spit a bit of blood as Confounder punched him, giving a bored sigh as he glared down at him. "Look, Keeper called for your death—you aren't getting out of this. You can convince me to make it nice and painless if you tell me who took you out. Understand?"
He nodded.
Confounder held a hand to his ear, gesturing for Egat to speak.
Egat stared at the man with a sense of inevitability, taking a breath. "There were two of them. Human guy and a faunus girl. I didn't catch their names."
Confounder reared back his fist.
"I swear! I swear they didn't tell me! Wait! Wait, Rogue! The guy had a daughter! Rogue! He called her Rogue!"
Confounder slowly nodded, lowering his fist and rising. He turned to Switch, brows raised in a silent question. One Switch simply nodded at. "Alright, then. We'll look into it. In the meantime—"
The fog converged on Egat, covering his head in a dome.
His body twitched a few times, hands scrambling for his face before slowly going limp, the fog dissipating as his head rolled to the side. Confounder reached forward, closing his eyes with his thumb and index finger.
"Rest in peace, Egat Winchester."
…
Stand Name: ?
Stand User: "Confounder"
Stats:
Power: E
Speed: C
Range: A
Persistence: A
Precision: E
Potential: C
…
"We're seriously going shopping right now?"
Jaune had to agree with Blake's grumbling assessment. Despite the news and the potential dangers, the twins had dragged him, Rogue, and his prospective new employee out shopping for clothes regardless.
Of course, she'd changed out of Jaune's clothes and into ones she was far less comfortable with. Mostly since she was clad in a black crop top with a skull on it, exposing her belly. Not to mention the jeans were tight and filled with holes, exposing portions of her flesh to the air.
Given she'd spent several years living on the streets, she wasn't exactly used to 'fashionable deterioration'.
The one thing she was fine with was the black headband Miltia had given her, blending with her hair and hiding her ears. Each time she caught a gaze of herself in the reflection of the mall's glass, she was reminded of an anorexic roadie for a rock band—not exactly something she'd want to be or a lifestyle she'd want to emulate.
At the very least Rogue was enjoying herself. She was sitting on Jaune's shoulders, enjoying being tall and not being on the verge of death once again. For the first time in a while, she was clad in clothes the twins had gotten her for her sixth birthday: A pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a pink leather jacket with a skull bedazzled on the back—the phrase 'Born to Ride' embroidered above it.
The five stand-users made their way into the mall's front entrance, Blake stiffening a bit as she saw the 'All Minors and Faunus Must Be Escorted by a Human Adult to Enter' signs posted on the entrance—checking to make sure her headband was on right. Jaune noticed, frowning at her for a second before glaring back at the signs.
September emerged from him, rapidly shredding the signs before disappearing.
Blake noticed, eyes flicking to him before crossing her arms. "Why did you do that? They'll just print another sign, and if any of Laz's men are here, they could see September."
Jaune looked away, shrugging as much as he could with Rogue on his shoulders. "It made you upset, and I…couldn't really think of doing anything else to help at the moment."
Blake rolled her eyes. "Worry about yourself and Rogue—I can take care of myself."
She looked away to hide a faint smile. "But, uh…thanks."
Jaune nodded, knowing full well he'd worry about her anyway. He still worried about Neo, and the girl was more than capable of taking down almost anyone that stood in her way. Then again, most of that worry is if she's eating right. Girl eats way too much candy to be healthy.
The five made their way into the somewhat crowded shopping mall, Melanie guiding them to a large department store near the center simply called "Gemma's". Okay, could've been worse. They could've dragged Blake to that one goth store at the end of the place.
Not long after they walked into the women's section, an employee approached them. A rather tall man with black hair that gave them a practiced smile. "Welcome to Gemma's! Anything I can help you with?"
Before anyone else could speak, Melanie shoved her way in front of the man. "Yes, actually! See, our friend here had a bit of a growth spurt recently, so we're not sure what size she is anymore. Do you have any measuring tape that would be good for that?"
The man scratched his chin, looking at Blake for a moment. Her cheeks tinted pink as she looked away, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hmm…she looks like her jeans should be a size 18, that'd be a start. I'll go ask around, see if one of our cashier's knows where one is."
He walked away, Melanie turning back to Blake with a disappointed look on her face. "Okay, guess we're on our own since he's got no clue what he's talking about."
Blake blinked twice. "Wait, how do—"
"I'm a size 18, and your hips barely fit in those jeans."
Blake glared at her as her face flushed, but she gave no comment.
Melanie turned back to Miltia, Jaune, and Rogue, clapping her hands before she sighed. "Okay, so, our best bet is to start searching for size 20 jeans. Look for medium shirts, and get different brands of each, okay Jaune? Women's sizes are random as…" her eyes flicked to Rogue. "Heck. So, just start grabbing stuff that looks like it'll fit and we'll check."
Jaune rolled his eyes. "I've been buying clothes for Rogue for years, Melanie."
"Jaune, you buy them from the boy's section 90% of the time."
Rogue piped up. "They're comfier! And they have pockets for my crayons!"
Miltia rolled her eyes, pointing back at Blake. "It's better if you let Melanie and I do this, Jaune. Just stay here in case that guy comes back and somehow has a tape measure. I won't let her buy anything black and spiky, don't worry."
They left before Jaune could say anything.
Jaune turned back to Blake, smiling as he saw her somewhat worried gaze. "Don't worry, they'll find you something that works. If there's anyone that can, it's those two."
"Is that a challenge?"
Jaune's eyes widened as he turned, seeing the man from earlier walking back with a woman in tow. The woman was clad in what looked like a specially made, chocolate brown suit. A pair of sunglasses covered her eyes, and a brown beret was placed on her locks of identically colored hair despite being indoors. She had a faint smirk as she sauntered over, high-heels clicking on the tile floors.
The man walked forward, giving an apologetic smile. "The moment I said someone didn't know what size they were, she insisted on coming to see herself. I am so sorry for what's about to happen, miss."
The woman clicked her tongue, pointing at Blake.
"You haven't worn properly fitting clothes in over seven years."
Blake's eyes widened. "How did you—?"
"You're either suffering from malnutrition or anorexia, you spend a lot of time running—so your body's diverting most of your extra calories to your lower half. If I had to take a shot in the dark, I'd say your feet are incredibly calloused—and those shoes sure as dust aren't yours. Also, you need a bigger bra—C-cup, that one's a B."
Blake crossed her arms, staring at the women. "Who are you?"
The woman chuckled, walking over and holding out a hand covered by a silk, black glove. "Coco Adel—remember it."
Blake slowly nodded, taking the woman's hand.
She soon regretted it as the woman walked back, nearly jerking her off her feet. "Let's get you fitted properly—and in something that actually suits your aesthetic. I'm thinking something black, white, and maybe a dash of purple or yellow in there. Make your eyes stand out better."
Blake jerked her hand back as the two rounded the corner, Coco opening a fitting room. "Would you slow down! I'm just here looking for clothes fit for a waitress job! Not—"
Coco held a finger to Blake's mouth, mouth cocked to the side. "Sweetheart, that is not the kind of attitude you need. You need to be looking for clothes that say, 'I'm strong, confident, and drop-dead gorgeous! Don't mess with me!'. What you wear is the first impression people get—so let's make it a good one!"
Blake swore the woman had lost her mind.
Against her better judgment, she walked into the small room. Coco turned on the light, revealing a room filled with mirrors, tables laden down with fabric, a few bare mannequins, and a small pedestal in the middle. "Alright, first thing's first, get measurements. Stand on the platform over here."
Blake stared at her, contemplating sending out From Shadows.
Coco laid a hand on her hip, leaning against the wall with her other arm. "Well? I've got all day—my shift doesn't end until six tonight—so unless you plan on standing there all day, get on the platform and hold your arms out so I can measure you."
Begrudgingly, Blake did so.
Coco walked over, moving in front of Blake and grabbing a small roll of measuring tape. She wrapped it around her waist, hips, and over her chest before slowly nodding, scratching her chin. "Not too far off—I was wrong about your waist by a few centimeters. This is why you measure first. Now,"
She spun on her heel, looking at Blake over her shoulder. "What's your budget?"
Blake gulped. "Uh…you'd have to ask Jaune."
Coco turned, frowning as she slowly nodded. "Alright, I'll be right back. Oh, and you can have a seat. I've got all the measurements I need."
Coco walked out, leaving Blake alone in the room.
She took Coco's advice, sitting on the pedestal as her eyes flicked around the room. Mannequins covered in clothes that probably cost more than everything she had on combined lined the walls between mirrors, fabrics and sewing machines lining every table. Some even had multiple sewing machines.
If this isn't decadence, I'm not sure what is.
After a few minutes, Blake stood and started looking around, absently inspecting the room. From Shadows emerged from behind her, just as bored as it's user. The two made their way around the room, Blake absently touching the soft fabrics on the mannequins as From Shadows floated onto the ceiling, absently trailing along shadows.
As she walked, her eyes were drawn to one mannequin in particular—one currently holding a strapless, dark-brown dress. Blake walked forward, frowning as she looked at the others. All the other dresses are off to the left…why is this one out here on its own?
She reached forward, eyes widening a bit as she felt the fabric.
It was probably the softest silk she'd ever felt, flowing over her hand like water. Her other hand rapidly reached forward, trailing along the sash along the midline of the dress. Wearing this must feel like wearing nothing at all. Can't imagine how expensive it is.
Her eyes widened as a thread of the dress slashed at her hand.
Blake lept back, senses on high alert as she saw something crawl from beneath the dress's hem. It looked like a small stand, maybe six inches tall at the most. It looked to be dark brown, with its eyes hidden by black sunglasses—the top of its head obscured by a dark-brown beret. Beneath both its arms were strips of pink, stacked on top of one another from its armpit down to its waist—both its legs brown except for the knees—which were pink like its sides and elbows.
When the stand crawled up the dress, exposing its back, Blake saw the entire backside was pink, split down the middle almost like an insect's wings—which proved accurate when it sprouted wings, flying up in front of her and swinging what looked like a whip made from threads at her.
Blake called From Shadows to her side, glaring at the stand as she took up a combat stance. Is that Coco's stand? But why is it here? Why is it so small? Is she working for B.B. Laz? Could she…no, she couldn't know who we are. It's been too soon. Unless…
She froze as she heard the door open.
From Shadows dashed to the ground, folding itself into the shadows behind the mirror as Blake turned—seeing Coco walk back in. Her eyes met hers, a faint smile on her face. "Admiring the dress?"
Blake nodded. "It's, um…very pretty."
Coco chuckled, walking to the dress and running a hand over it—confirming for Blake that it was her stand as the small creature flew up to her shoulder. "Yep, started work on it a few months ago for my friend's birthday. Best silk in Vale."
She shook her head, turning back to Blake. "But enough about that—you need some clothes. Lucky for you," Blake struggled not to react as Coco thumped two fingers near her neck. "I take payment in more than lien—cause there is no way you'd be able to afford a full wardrobe of Adel originals."
Blake struggled to keep her gulp quiet. "What did he offer you?"
Coco chuckled, walking to one of the tables. "He offered a meal voucher for Curative Cuisine plus your budget. I don't have enough company threads here to get all the clothes you two are looking for, but I've got some personal threads for commissions like this. Now,"
She stepped back, cracking her knuckles.
"Observe the master at work."
Blake's eyes widened as dozens—maybe even a hundred—of those small stands emerged from Coco, flexing their wings and flying into a storm. She struggled not to react to them, watching as they grabbed thread, flinging it around each other as they began assembling clothes like there was no tomorrow.
Coco looked over her shoulder, giving a faint smirk. "Enjoying the show?"
Blake frowned, trying to play dumb. "You're, um…just standing there right now."
"Really?"
Blake froze as one of the small stands landed on her shoulder.
It was instinct as she recalled From Shadows, swatting it away.
Coco turned, her stand-swarm circling around her as she smirked. "You too, huh?"