"Remember when I said I would tell you when we were in too deep?"
Jaune gulped. "Yeah."
"Well, we're no longer wading in the kiddie pool."
Roman's comment was a massive understatement. A bullet struck the stone pile they were using for cover. Jaune flinched behind the hardly adequate shelter.
Much like before in the apartment complex and in the parking garage, he was a witness to absolute carnage. There were the screams and yells he had come to associate with slaughter. Unlike those previous times, however, everyone was carrying a gun. This added a new, terrifying tonal dimension to the event.
Thunderclaps washed over the plaza. Those powerful echoes were magnified by the enclosed space. His head ached from what sounded like a series of firecrackers going off next to his ears. It made him believe that each shot was aimed squarely at his lonely rock island.
Luckily, no one was targeting him specifically. The stray round that had come closest was fired at Neo. Said woman was gracefully dancing around bullets as though they were in slow motion.
A twirling kick took out a gang member as he reloaded. His gun skipped across the gravel and into the center square. Unfortunately, it landed closest to the other two people that were hiding out near Jaune.
"Hey Jay." Leroy called from behind a granite block while picking up the gun. "Is she with you? Cuz she sure as hell isn't with us."
Despite having just been chased across Vale by those two men, Jaune decided to answer honestly. Lying seemed futile. Also, his adrenaline was too high to produce a good one.
"That's Roman's right-hand woman and kind of my boss. She's here to rescue me." He hoped.
As this was said, Neo launched a fireball at a cluster of men. They threw themselves out of the way. This turned out to be a misdirection to advance upon them. She charged in with a rapturous smile and Melodic Cudgel at the ready.
"Great." Tommy groused while watching Neo ragdoll a machine gunner. "We went and pissed off middle management."
"Think she has bigger things to worry about. All of us do." His companion pointed out before focusing back on Jaune. "What do you say? Truce?"
"Oh sure. And next we'll invite Cinder Fall out to a candle lit dinner."
"Truce." Jaune agreed.
"That was sarcasm!"
"We'll only get out of here alive if we work together." The boy said to everyone.
Temporary peace was in everyone's best interest. The firefight between Neo, the cops, and the Flows was too severe for the three of them to also be worried about each other. There was also safety in numbers. Jaune just hoped to not catch a bullet in the back.
"You happen to have any thoughts on how we'll do that? A single pistol between us isn't going to get us far."
It would not. At least, not by itself. He glanced down at Hush, still in his hands. Next, he looked over to the nearest incline out of the pit. The outline of a plan began to form.
"Do you have your Aura unlocked?" Jaune asked them.
"Yes." "No."
Tommy gave Leroy the side-eye. "Since when?"
"A while now."
"Did your madam give that to you as well?"
"Don't bring her into this."
The green-haired man shook his head. "Despite having the power of a one-man army, you were going to surrender to those pigs?"
"Unlike you, I don't have a death wish."
"Having a spine is not-"
"Enough!" Jaune found himself growling out before instinctively shrinking at their considering gaze. "A-anyway, we'll group up and run while everyone is distracted. Tommy, you are on protective duty. Use this."
He tossed over the upper half of Hush. The Aura-less member of the group caught it easily. Then he scowled at Jaune.
"This a joke? And where's the handle?"
"It's a weapon and I have it." Jaune held up the long knife. "You're holding the shield portion. Don't let the lace fool you. It can deflect anything."
At least, Jaune thought so. During practice sessions with Neo, his slashes with Crocea Mors had not made a single cut in the barrier. He had an inkling the same applied to bullets.
"So that's how you got out of those bindings…"
"What will we be doing?" Leroy asked.
A good question. Jaune hesitated. His first instinct was to say, 'keep our heads down and hope for the best.' But that would not cut it in a war zone. They would need to be proactive.
"Shooting and stabbing anything that comes near."
That line from Roman got a grunt of agreement from the men. Jaune paled. He would be the one doing the stabbing in this situation. The spirit somehow knew what his objection would be and offered advice.
"Just think of them as Grimm."
The teen was not sure that would help given his track record against Grimm, but quietly agreed. These people were trying to kill him. Whatever happened from now on was not his choice.
That was what he told himself, at any rate.
XXII. Breaking Point
"Keep tight gents, unless you want to get aerated." Roman spoke.
"Don't need to tell me twice." Tommy rumbled.
He clutched the extended parasol like a life preserver. Flanked on his sides were Jaune and Leroy. They had snuck out from behind their hiding spots. Gunshots were still ringing out, but not at them. Neo was keeping everyone busy.
They ascended from the lower section of the plaza without incident. Jaune wanted to feel relieved, but he knew this was far from over. They proceeded to the northernmost corridor. Inside were several gangsters with their backs to them.
Tommy geared up to pounce, looking to gain a gun of his own. Leroy held him back. The reason became clear soon enough.
Down the ways, the dirty cops had taken position and were shooting erratically into the confined space. The gangsters who had been following them were trapped by the blind fire. If Tommy had gone inside, he also would have been stuck.
"We'll need another way." Leroy warned.
"Over there!" Jaune pointed to the alley the officers had originally emerged from.
With the Flows' divided focus, the pathway appeared free of obstacles. It was the natural place to stage their breakout. With no disagreements voiced, he steered them in that direction.
Moving along the outside wall, they tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as three guys hiding behind a parasol could be. More shrieks and pops kept everyone nicely preoccupied. That allowed them to reach the corridor entrance.
With their shieldman guarding the rear, Leroy and Jaune pressed on. The teen was pleased to see that it was indeed empty. A far-off light signaled that escape was in sight.
Halfway down the passage, Jaune heard from behind. "Got company!"
With nowhere to hide, they crouched behind Tommy. As they did, a hail of bullets rained down. All the sounds blended into an unceasing patter. The force behind the concentrated hits pushed them. Leroy lent his own strength to the shield to hold them all firm.
The booms ceased. There were barks of orders from the other side. All three looked around Hush's protection to see a sizable group staring down at them. In their midst was the irate leader of the High Fly Flows.
"Gunn!" He bellowed. "You no-good junkie! Don't think I didn't see you scurrying away! You turned on me? Me!? After everything I've done for you!?"
"The hell is he talking about?" Leroy asked low.
"Beats me." Tommy shrugged before yelling back. "You shot first, Shaw. Can't blame a guy for grouping up when pressured."
Apparently, you could.
There were more explosive thuds against the umbrella. Leroy covered the top of Tommy's head with his forearm and hissed as a round reflected off his Aura. Sticking his other arm out, he returned fire, hoping to hit someone back. A gurgling cry signaled that indeed he did.
Whoever had been downed did not make a substantial difference in the volume of lead pumped their way. Plenty of others existed to keep up the onslaught. Hush held against the heavy torrent, but it could not last.
"Oh, this is going swimmingly. Got any other bright ideas there, General Lagune?"
"Why do I have to come up with all the-" Jaune paused at the sight of a pile of garbage beside them. "Actually, I might."
There was a familiar looking orb mixed in with the refuse. He reached over to pluck it out. A bullet whizzed by his hand, nearly making him drop the ball. Examining the item, it was as he thought: A depleted fuel cell.
He reached around Tommy's midsection to pat the belt area. Jaune found what he was looking for in the left pocket. The Collector jumped at the touch.
"Watch those wandering hands!"
"No time! Borrowing this."
Out came the stun gun. Turning the device over in his hand, Jaune found a latch under the grip. Pressing down released a small, translucent tube from the handle. Yellow Dust floated in suspension at the center.
Taking the battery out, he returned to the fuel cell. With Neo's knife, he jimmied off a metal covering to expose an opening. Lacking the specialized equipment needed to separate the Dust from the power supply, he opted to shove the glass-like cylinder inside.
It was a cramp fit. Like an ill-fitting puzzle, he had to push down hard to get the separate pieces to slot in. There were some splintering sounds, yet the intended reaction occurred. The orb lit up with an amber glow.
Then, there was a low hum.
The orb heated up rapidly. Sparks began radiating out in random intervals. Something had gone wrong.
"Uh oh." Jaune gawked.
"Throw it already!"
Roman's urging pushed him on to act. He sat up, placing one hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady himself. Sputtering a warning, Jaune lobbed the improvised grenade. It landed halfway between them and the Flows.
The shooting stopped temporarily. They seemed confused at what the object was supposed to be. Leroy opened his mouth to ask.
Everything went white.
/ / /
When Jaune came to, he had a splitting headache. He was not sure how long he had been out. It could not have been too long.
The explosion had knocked him a way back. He felt more than saw the trash can that had slowed his involuntary launching. Burning debris had plunged the already darkened area into a smog that had the teen coughing.
Putting fingers to his itchy temple caused him to flinch. There was now a large lump there. Making matters worse was a pungent odor from the burning rubbish filling his nostrils.
Something shifted. A shadow crossed over his face. Blearily, Jaune tried to determine if it was a threat.
Through the haze, he saw Leroy stumbling towards the exit. Behind him, Tommy was being dragged along to safety. They were still defending each other. Meanwhile, Jaune was being left to fend for himself.
He should have expected that.
His body protested as he attempted to get up. Every inch of him was sore and bruised. Rolling onto all fours, he clambered out from the aluminum crash pad. His strength returned at a snail's pace. Roman chose then to offer his brand of comfort.
"Well done. Seven out of ten. Next time, though, try to stick the landing."
Jaune had no immediate plans for attempting anything like that again. He was content to bring pre-built Dust explosives in the future. Improvising one while under enemy attack was a verified terrible idea.
Crawling along the floor, the teen saw his escape. None of the Flows were pursuing. They were likely in as much pain as he was. Possibly worse if they lacked Aura. Fresh air and freedom were straight ahead.
Along the way, he saw a glint at eye level. He diverted his way over to it. There he was reunited with Hush's knife component. It must have been knocked away from him in the detonation. The parasol portion was nowhere to be seen.
"Guess those street toughs ran off with the shield." Roman waxed on, having noticed Jaune looking around. "Neo isn't going to be happy. Oh well. We'll settle up with them sooner or later."
They would. Jaune would rather live and let live, but Leroy and Tommy were purposefully targeting him. They also knew about his connection to Mercury Black. That knowledge was dangerous, especially if it fell into the wrong hands.
Something needed to be done. Jaune was afraid of what that might be if the details were left up to Roman to decide. But he also could not think of an alternative.
The knife gleamed. That was the most obvious option. Killing them.
Could he go along with that? If it were to save his own skin? Was that the kind of person he was becoming?
He shook his head. First, Jaune needed to get clear of this insanity. The conflagration made it difficult for him to think. Warm air only grew hotter the longer he stayed put.
"Really need to stop starting all of these fires." He wheezed while shakily getting to his knees.
"I'll say. This budding pyromania is concerning. Although, if that is what you are into, honey-potting Cinder does make a twisted kind of sense."
"I still don't know what that-"
A weight suddenly pressed into Jaune's back. The teen cried out in shock as he was roughly shoved against the wall. Still disoriented, he could do little as he was turned around and large hands settled around his throat.
"You!" Shaw's dirty face came into view. "You did this! You and that girl!"
Even as those chubby fingers tightened around his windpipe, the blond stood still. For some reason he could not move. Ice ran in his veins.
Shaw continued to rant and rave. Roman was also yelling. Jaune could not make sense of what was being said. The blood throbbing in his ears drowned it all out. The sides of his vision started to darken. His sight became pinpricks.
His brain finally caught up. This was it. He was dying. After everything he had been through, this was how his story ended.
In the twilight of consciousness, the drug baron morphed. Sausage appendages turned to sharp blades. A twitching Lancer drone's head replaced the bandaged face. The clicking maw was opened wide, leaning in for another deadly kiss.
Jaune struck out at the transposed memory.
The grip around his throat instantly loosened. Shaw, back to normal, took a step back with wide eyes. Those hands were now pressed against his own throat. Red dripped down his ring and middle fingers.
Befuddled, Jaune glanced down at his fist. In it was the knife. He forgot he had been holding it. That same red was splashed all over the sharp edge.
"Oh…" He said numbly.
The High Fly Flow leader tried to speak. All that came out was a garbled mess from his ruined larynx. After a second of this, he collapsed face down into a puddle near a drainage pipe.
Shaw lay unnaturally still. A fuzzy sensation slithered around his gut as he realized that the man was now deceased. Jaune stared at the body. The world passed slowly around him. Belatedly, he noticed a tug at his sleeve.
Neopolitan had arrived.
"Hello, love." Roman spoke to her. "Take care of those party crashers?"
She wiggled her eyebrows while spinning the cane. Neo then saw her own blood-stained weapon in Jaune's tight grip. Her head swiveled to Shaw. Then it came back around to him before tilting in a questioning manner.
"Yeah, didn't think he had it in him either." They heard sirens. "What a day this has been. We have much to catch up on, but let's compare notes later. Time to make our grand escape."
Neo nodded and turned to leave. When Jaune did not follow, she glanced back over her shoulder. He felt rooted to the ground.
She came up to him again. He expected a punch or slap. Part of him would have accepted the abuse willingly.
In an odd showing, she gently grabbed his hand. Their fingers wove together with the knife handle shared between them. He did not have any strength to wave off her forced assistance. His legs were easily pliable as she pulled him toward the exit.
Little slivers of light from Neo's Semblance surrounded them. What was once a mesmerizing spectacle now left him feeling hollow. Their near guaranteed escape felt unearned.
Outside of the smoldering tunnel, the streets were deserted. Whoever might have normally been around was keeping their heads down. Everyone knew that the cops would be there soon.
There was one exception.
A parked van sat uncomfortably close to the curb. There was nothing special about the appearance other than its clean look. What was noteworthy were the two people working away at the vehicle.
The driver's side door was open. Tommy sat inside as he messed around with the steering wheel junction. Leroy was also there. He nervously watched the rest of the street for any approaching threats.
Unfortunately for him, there was no perceiving Neo in her cloaked form. He tensed as the barrel of a weaponized cane materialized in front of his astonished face. What was fortunate for his continued well-being was that he made no sounds to alert his associate.
"Fancy seeing you so soon." Roman greeted him after the illusion broke.
"Jay? I-"
The spirit shushed the night-guard before relaying to Neo. "Careful with this one. He's got Aura. Stay on him while we take care of our other friend."
Jaune was already moving. He did not need any prodding or instructions from Roman to know what was needed. A fire was ignited in his belly. His knuckles lined up into a fist, just as he had been taught.
Concerned with the vehicle's ignition column, the green-haired man did not see the approaching teen. The engine roared to life. Tommy sat back with a goofy grin and yelled.
"Let's get the hell out of-" A loaded punch to the chin floored him.
Roman snorted. "My sentiments exactly."
Seizing Tommy by the collar, Jaune dragged him onto the sidewalk. Feeling vindictive, the former captive kicked his kidnapper in the stomach. As he knew firsthand, it was a highly effective method of keeping someone down.
Neo marched Leroy over. She forced the much larger man to lift his laid-out friend into the van before getting in after them. Jaune sat behind the wheel. In the passenger seat was the missing parasol. Beside it, he laid the stained blade.
He took a deep breath and let it out. A second and third followed. Then he put the vehicle in drive and thought through his options for their new prisoners.
/ / /
What remained of Technician Dorson stared blankly into the sky.
Rescuers had initially carried him out into plain view. Amidst the fire and smoke, he was thought to be merely injured. By the glow of a setting sun, they came to understand that he was long gone. There was nothing to be done for him.
The entire left side of his face was torn apart. A bullet had gone through the eye socket, bloated the cheek, and punched through the back of his head. Blood and bone laced out over the rough flooring in a coagulated gel.
Under a tent that had been set up to keep the public away, Sergeant Blassie watched Dorson's colleagues process him. Their work was taxing and slow. None could bear to look upon one of their own in such a state. Several had to be excused as they started sobbing uncontrollably.
Eventually, the forensics' lead, Peregrine, took over. 'Standards were not being met,' the tough-as-nails woman announced to the assistants. She was electing to continue alone. The declaration was simultaneously compassionate and insulting.
Just her style.
No one complained. They all exited the tent. Many with a relieved look on their face.
Peregrine then delivered a pointed look to Blassie. That was when the sergeant realized she was hovering. She took the hint and left as well.
Back outside, a crowd was growing at each end of the blocked off street. Not just the public was there. VNN had set up for a broadcast. Officers pushed them all back to make room for more official responders.
The listless sea of uniforms inside the cordoned area churned aimlessly. Medical personnel stood by their stations. Technicians fine-tuned their equipment. Canvassers milled about, interviewing and reinterviewing the same folks.
Everything was on pause until the Fire Marshall finished their assessment. His people were still going in and out of the alleyway even after the fire was extinguished. They were currently retesting the air quality after a questionable result.
The AQI number would determine what safety precautions everyone would need to follow during the investigation. Right now, they were deciding between everyone wearing a respirator or requiring a full hazmat suit. Either determination would grind the investigation to a halt. There was not enough equipment to go around.
In short, it was a logistical nightmare. This was precisely why Blassie was at the site. Someone had to help turn the gears. Yet even she was limited by constraints. Each order had to wait on something else.
That left her with plenty of time to ponder on the state of the city.
Everything was seemingly coming unglued. There were always robberies, thefts, and murders. Usually, the organized elements of the Underground kept a lid on their more brazen members. Something had shifted, but she could not put a finger on what.
It would be easy to blame the White Fang. City leaders were eager to do so. But there had to be more going on. This incident in particular seemed wholly unrelated. There was not a single sighting of a masked faunus. In fact, it appeared instigated by her own people.
The sergeant wanted answers. There was a pair of cops that would know. With nothing else to do, she made for them.
Officers Fiddle and Piper were seated behind an ambulance. Neither were injured. They had given cursory explanations for their presence. Enough to avoid being charged with insubordination, but not enough to reveal what had occurred. Blassie was determined to shake the rest loose.
"This is a mighty fine FUBAR you have landed the department in." The two officers tensed at her booming voice. "We've got a shootout, a dead technician, and a literal garbage fire wrapped up into one horrible present. Am I missing anything?"
They both looked at her slack jawed. Fiddle had been on his Scroll and quickly hid the device away. Piper tried to recover for them.
"Ma'am-"
She was not having it. "That's right! I nearly forgot about the stolen van filled with high-end surveillance equipment. This is the second vehicle that has been taken out from under your noses. Planning on a third for the hat trick?"
"That's not our-" He was shut down again.
"So, let's make a list of the policies you have broken." She began counting with her fingers. "Opening an unsanctioned investigation. Taking unauthorized personnel into the field. Leaving department property unattended…"
So many guidelines had been disregarded. Whether this was done out of malice or stupidity was beside the point. These rules existed for a reason. Namely, to prevent or mitigate circumstances such as these.
"Policies. Please." Piper scoffed. "You don't care about any of that. We all know what's really got you acting like you're on the rag."
"Enlighten me."
"You think you're a train conductor. Everything must run according to your lil' schedule or it shouldn't run at all. You'd put all of us real officers in a straitjacket to keep us from doing what needs to be done."
"Real officers?"
"Those of us in the trenches." He pointed at the alleyway. "That? That was proper police work. We rolled in and kicked ass. I'm never going to apologize for that."
"Not looking for an apology, Officer Fiddle. I want an explanation. What in the brothers' name were you doing out here?"
"We were tailing someone and they must've made us for suckers." He kicked the bumper in honest frustration. "Barely made it out alive."
Not all of them had survived. "What made you so reckless?"
"That may be my fault, sergeant."
Major — No, Commissioner, Blassie had to remind herself — Nadder butted into the conversation. Where he had come from, she was not sure. She was unaware that any of the top brass would be present. They rarely involved themselves in day-to-day activities.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"These two were running an operation under my orders."
Vaguely, she did recall that Piper had mentioned them being summoned by Nadder. At the time, she had thought the Acting Commissioner was giving them busy work. That was an erroneous assumption on her part.
"And those orders?"
"I had them investigating a known criminal element: The High Fly Flows."
The Flows. Blassie knew of them as low-level street thugs. Despite being on the Gang Unit's radar, arresting them had never been a priority. They were too small to bother with. Their leader had only recently been charged after having been gift wrapped by some vigilante.
"Was there a reason this was kept secret from me?" As their direct supervisor, she should have been made aware.
"There was no secret. Officers Fiddle and Piper asked me for permission to follow-up on a lead. I granted them the resources to do so. The information must have not filtered down."
Jumping the chain of command. That did sound plausible, especially from these particular policemen. Their disobedience was well established.
The next question was directed at them. "And the lead?"
"A… confidential informant." Piper fumbled. "They passed along a tip that the Flows had a hand in those apartment killings. There was some beef between them and the tenants."
If she had been wearing a hat, it might have been blown off her head. The department had been turning over every haystack for a clue to that case. She refused to believe that these chuckleheads had managed to find the needle.
"Who?" She demanded. "Give me a name."
"Sorry, sergeant. Need to protect my CI."
"You can't hide behind-"
"Blassie." The Commissioner cut her off. "With me."
As he moved them away, she took note of the two officers changing disposition. Fiddle had a smug look. Piper slumped in relief. She had a bad feeling.
"Sir. What is really going on?"
"Like I said, this is partially my fault." Nadder indeed looked stressed. "When they approached me, they were highly excited. Claimed to have blown the case wide open."
"Why not pass the tip along to the rest of the unit?"
"They felt uncomfortable bringing such things to your attention. Claims were made of a hostile working environment. I may have granted the request to hush them up. I underestimated the ramifications of this choice."
That drew a huff from her. Of course they would hide behind language instead of owning up to their terrible behavior. If the atmosphere was hostile, it was their own doing.
"Can I have the CI case number?"
He bit his bottom lip. "No. This was unofficial. A 'one and done.' The guy would deny being the source if you asked them again."
"That," She drawled. "Is exactly why we create a file, sir. Basic CYA for a CI. Keeps them on the hook for whatever they say to us."
Paperwork also helped protect the informant. The contract could help determine if officers were taking advantage. That was likely what was happening here. There had been several complaints about Fiddle and Piper's 'interrogation' techniques.
"Agreed. But I think it was worth the gamble. After a showing like this, don't tell me the Flows don't look fit to charge over the massacre."
They did. That was why Blassie was irked by this chain of events. VPD could have caught them without the collateral damage.
"Give me something, Commissioner." She looked him dead in the eye. "I'll go to bat for you here. The Flows deserve no sympathy, but I need to see a solid trunk before going out on this limb with you. Who was their informer?"
After fifteen years in VPD, Blassie had learned how to play the game. That was why she had made it to sergeant while other, objectively better, officers were stuck in the lower rungs. No one got to her pay grade without compromising themselves at least once.
Sometimes, the only way to get ahead was to hold your nose. A certain flexibility was required. She had that in spades.
However, they were quickly reaching her breaking point.
If there was more to this than a case of overeager policing, she would hang everyone involved out to dry. Consequences be damned. Nadder appeared to understand and thus answered after a short delay.
"Leroy Browne."
/ / /
Leroy was not surprised when his captors pulled up behind the wharf-side shack. The locale was known. Out of the way. Discreet.
Exactly the right kind of place to dispose of a nuisance.
The van had circled the block to see if they were being followed. At one point, they passed a police cruiser going in the opposite direction. The distant fire had prevented the officers from noticing the conspicuous vehicle with two captives inside.
When they were pulled out, Tommy was still wobbly from getting knocked around. Leroy was not much better. The earlier explosion had physically taxed him. There was no fight in them as they were shoved inside the building.
Soon, they were kneeling on the wooden floor. Jay had left to contact his boss. Roman Torchwick would decide their fates. While this occurred, the girl with the tri-colored hair stood watch over them.
In her possession was the parasol weapon. She made a show of cleaning the knife portion slowly. Each rub of a greasy rag along the forged metal was accompanied by a narrowed eye at the two of them.
Once polished, she slid the knife into its sheath. Then, she pulled the knife out an inch before pushing it back in. The pattern repeated a few more times, becoming as regular as the squawking seagulls outside.
It was as though she were daring them to rush her. They could have. Neither Leroy nor Tommy was tied up. Yet, the men were unwilling to take the bait.
Both had seen what she had done during the back-alley brawl. Neither wanted to press their luck. Afterall, they had not been killed so far. There was still a fleeting hope that their uneasy peace would hold.
Leroy hoped to argue his case. He had met Torchwick once before. Loads could be said about the gentleman thief, but he was practical if nothing else.
The opportunity came after what felt like an eternity passed. A low buzz emanated from the lady guard. She produced a Scroll in front of her face with a grin.
"Ahoy." A rough voice came out as she clicked it on. "Are they still there? Or have you elected to take care of them?"
Instead of responding verbally, she made a series of faces and hand gestures. Leroy glimpsed Tommy's dumbfounded expression. It mirrored his own.
"Didn't go for it, eh?" She pouted. "Give it a minute. There might yet be more ultraviolence to dole out. In the meantime, let me have a go."
There was a slight nod before she turned the Scroll around. On the translucent screen was Torchwick's static picture. Roman cleared his throat before beginning.
"Mr. Browne! Mr… Gunn, was it? I've heard you've been giving my employees a hard time. While I appreciate a pleasant shakedown as much as the next guy, I don't like being on the receiving end. Makes me a bit defensive."
"We-"
"Shush now. Listen." Leroy zipped it. "This is how it's going to be. There will be no negotiations. No other offers. You have exactly two options before you. Consider them carefully before choosing. Understand?"
The faunus nodded slowly. He figured it was a rhetorical question anyway. This was proven correct when the thief continued without so much as a pause.
"Option one is you work for me." The woman mimed coughing into her fist before shaking the Scroll. "Sorry. Us. You work for us. Our little outfit happens to be in the market for hired goons. I'll even compensate Madam Amour for poaching her talent. You will continue your current work, plus the occasional odd job, under our direction."
Leroy blinked. The offer was generous. He could carry on searching for Mercury Black, but this time with Torchwick's blessing and resources.
It was too good to be true.
"What's the other option?" Tommy demanded.
"Didn't I say no talking?" Roman wondered aloud. "Very well, you eager beaver. Behind door number two is my incredibly talented chief people officer, Neopolitan. Give them a twirl, my dear."
The lady did so, spinning around on her tiptoes twice. She came to a stop and curtseyed cutely. The action passed her off as an innocuous ballerina.
"What makes her so talented? Well, Neo here has a gift for making people disappear." She covered her mouth as if silently giggling. "And by that, I mean she cuts them up into itty-bitty chunks and scatters them into the harbor."
That sense of harmlessness was wiped away as the hand descended. Neo's smile had morphed into a gruesome picture. All pointed teeth and malice. She was ready to carry out the threat and would enjoy every moment.
"Our two choices are employment or becoming fish food!?"
"That's the skinny. A tough choice, I know, but we will need a decision."
Despite the threat, it still sounded decent. Selling his soul to Torchwick may not have been a great long-term deal, but Leroy was willing to take the plunge. He had been prepared to do much worse.
"Clock's a ticking. What's it going to be? Are you in? Or do we have to kill you?"
Eagerly anticipating their answer, Neo leaned in. Her free hand ghosted over the handle parasol handle again. Danger hung heavy in the air.
Leroy glanced at Tommy. The Vacuan inclined his head. He would back whatever was decided. That made the rest easy.
"We're in."
Author Notes: This chapter marks the end of the first third of the story. My own Vol 1, if you will. Next time, we will be on the road to the academy initiation. We are going to Beacon. Repeat. We are going to Beacon. This is not a drill. xD
Coda: Stinger
On a distant shore, a titan awoke.
Compact eyes activated as the thin membrane that protected them during long rest cycles rolled back. They gazed out with an insidious contemplation. Their extrasensory network had been disturbed.
Several nodes sought an urgent audience with their sovereign. Granting the request, the Queen Lancer crawled out of the nest. Her throne was carved into the side of a sandstone cliff, presiding over a darkened and decaying land.
As she emerged, the air currents shifted. The mental signals approached. Before long, the group came within her sight.
Hovered now before her were three recovery drones. Carried between them was the wreckage of one of their brethren. The bearers set them down before flying away to rejoin the rest of the colony slumbering below.
She set about examining the incapacitated child with her feelers. They were from a scouting batch long thought lost. Several of its legs, both mandibles, and a wing were missing. Beyond that, the torso had collapsed, compromising the dorsal vessels within.
It weakly cried up at her.
Her assessment: Damaged beyond repair.
Yet the drone persisted. A curious marvel. Something had convinced them to continue persevering. There was vital information that it needed to pass on.
And so, she extended her consciousness into the drone. It allowed her in, greedily urging on the melding process. This was a strange level of awareness given its station. Had they survived, they may well have grown into a Queen of their own.
Alas, the regal Grimm had to end their potential. The drone's limited individuality faded away. With that left the last remaining hold on existence. It collapsed and ceased, never to move again. While fading, the Queen received flashes of the drone's memory.
Birth. Life. Death.
All was laid bare.
The strongest chain of memories surrounded their last mission. The scouting fleet was sent to evaluate the south-eastern lands for a new colony home. There, they found nothing special.
Deserts. Plains. Forests.
This last locale was where they experienced the most pushback. The Soulbound had already created their own dominion deep in those woods. To live there would have brought the Grimm nest into constant conflict. Deemed unsatisfactory as a new home, the drones were set to return to the colony.
Then they were diverted. An ambush? The memories were an overloaded mess.
There was a constant. An enemy gleaming in white and purple. Her children flew in circles, believing in their limited intellect that they were pursuing prey. In actuality, it was they who were being funneled to their doom.
Fire. Rage. Pain.
In the end, only the single drone survived. In desperation, it had taken to the skies with the Soulbound in tow to gain an advantage. This almost worked. The foe's head was in its mouth. Yet, they escaped the predicament and struck a mortal blow.
Yellow hair. Blazing blue eyes. Gritted teeth.
This was the portrait seared into the drone's consciousness. An imprint. A call-to-action against their greatest enemy.
Now uploaded to her, the Queen broadcasted this out automatically through the shared mental link. Every drone within the network experienced those last moments. They felt the painful echo and thus chittered in a unified voice.
Consensus had been achieved. Vengeance was desired. Blood, demanded.
She could dissuade them.
Overrule the collective. Make them forget and return to their lull. They were drones. Mere extensions of her own will.
She would not.
In truth, she was restless. Age had granted her patience, but she was still a Creature of Grimm. Her drive to exterminate sapient life ran strong. This Soulbound gave her the overriding reason she had been looking for to act.
Wiggling free of the cave, the monarch flexed her claws on round stone. The unfortunate boulder shattered to bits. Slowly and surely, she drew plans.
The nest trembled in anticipation as she regarded them all. Her enormous wings spread out and began to vibrate in preparation for takeoff. The drones mimicked her.
As one, the colony took to the air. The destination was clear. Their target was decided.
All that stood in their way would be swept away by an unending swarm.
