Roman Torchwick thought of himself as a patient man. He'd been in the game and a part of Vale's underworld for more than a decade of his life and he'd garnered a few valuable skills and traits in that time. He knew the importance of being quick. Getting caught holding the bag was a good way for a thief's career to be cut short. He knew the importance of knowledge. Being able to read his mark or know if he was being made one. He knew the importance of muscle. Outside of a fight, many hands made light work, and too many made you careless. He knew the importance of quality over quantity. A handful of Atlesian Hard-light meant more than a ton of Combustion to the right person. But above all of these traits, and more, he considered patience to be an important one. Not that he enjoyed it, but knew its merit.
In a business where timing made the difference between success and failure, patience was worth much.
Deep into the back of the warehouse he'd treated as his hideout for weeks now, he found his patience tested.
He stood in his office, seated well above the floor of the building, staring out at the shipping containers that filled the place. Dozens and dozens of massive steel boxes, painted in blacks and grays. Every variety of dust commercially available, and some not, rested within their confines. The sum total of several months' worth of planning and work. More than he could ever have the power to sell and move on his own. Worth more money than he'd ever held in his hands throughout his criminal career.
More than enough, to have him rot in a cell for the rest of his life if the police saw him with all of it.
He drew a puff off his cigar as he stared irritably out across the warehouse. With a subtle motion, a smoke ring left his mouth, and he watched it sail listlessly, slowly dispersing into the dark air.
"These cigars aren't cheap, y'know Neo?" Roman asked, turning back towards his office. A smirk crept across his face. "A box of premium Vacuans goes for, what, a hundred Lien for the cheap stuff, right?"
The office Roman stood in was a dingy and sparse room. A cork board and map along one wall, dated furnishings and a rusty metal desk. Far from what he considered 'good', but good enough for him to work with.
In the far corner of the room, near a door leading to the warehouse below, sat Neopolitan. Her dual-chromatic eyes scanning over a magazine as a pleased smile rested on her face.
Torchwick turned the cigar around in his fingers, watching the smoke curl from its end. His eye glanced over the band. A metallic, warm silver emblem of an embossed snowflake, backlit with brass. "But you didn't even aim low, you went for the Good Stuff." He said, returning the cigar to his mouth and taking another draw from it. "Even a single one of these 'Nicks' could go for a grand. A box, maybe ten…"
Torchwick looked back to the rough desk he'd been given, at his end of the room. On its surface sat a pristine cardboard box, about half as tall as Neo was, and three times as wide. Its lid had been opened, and within sat several dozen oaken cases. Each one hand crafted, inlays and reliefs of wintry frescos carved along its facets. One of the cases had been removed, set alongside its cardboard brother. The case's contents on display, cigars resting neatly alongside each other.
"And you managed to steal me a whole case of them." Roman said, taking another pull from his cigar. Savoring its pungent aroma and sharp taste. His smirk turned to a satisfied smile, as he turned back towards his partner. "The only thing I'm going to ask, is: what did I do to earn such a wonderful partner?"
The pink-and-brown-haired young woman looked up from her magazine. A devilish smile crossed her lips as a sultry gaze laid itself over Roman.
A chuckle escaped Roman as he took another pull from his cigar.
It was a short-lived notion.
He heard the footsteps coming from a mile away, climbing the hollow steel stairs outside of his office. No sooner had the cigar touched Roman's lips than the door to his office slammed open
A massive silhouette loomed in its frame. Standing close as they were to Neo, Torchwick idly noted how they were almost twice her size in height alone. Were they anymore broad, they'd need to cant sideways to step into the room. The vague shadow of a tattoo running up one arm and shoulder like some vaguely tribal corkscrew. Hair cropped close, face hidden by a full mask of bone white, eyes accented by sharp red.
The silhouette stepped into the room, as Torchwick completed the draw on his cigar. He knew who it was well enough by this point. Dealing with the animals of the White Fang as closely as he had been recently, the two had been acquainted more than he preferred. Torchwick had no love for the Fang or Faunus alike, but he kept it as a rule to as far away from violent nutcases as possible.
For the likes of the White Fang Lieutenant, Bane, that almost went doubly so.
"Well, it seems that one of the little lady's pets has found its way to our office." Roman spoke, blowing cigar smoke "Isn't that nice, Neo?"
Torchwick took note of the tension in the Lieutenant's shoulders.
"Watch your tongue, human." Bane growled, voice the deep rumble of a locomotive "My tolerance for your life is threadbare at the moment."
Torchwick gave the lieutenant a cocky smirk. The criminal knew the score between himself and the Lieutenant. The latter could easily bring ruin to the former. However, Torchwick knew he was, for the time being, needed by people above the Lieutenant's station. So long as that was the case, Torchwick had a degree of freedom in dealing with the Lieutenant. It was a degree of freedom he knew to be tenuous.
One, he had the sense, that was about to be challenged.
"Oh no, please, take your best shot." Roman goaded "I'm sure your boss and his boss would be happy to know you killed off your best chance at smuggling all this Dust out of Vale."
The lieutenant began to loom towards Torchwick, towering over the human. "Do not tempt me. We could easily find someone more suited in our ranks."
"Funny." Roman said, puffing his cigar and blowing the smoke at the Lieutenant's mask "I could've sworn that your people were approached about smuggling this stuff in the first place."
The smoke stung the Lieutenant's eyes, its acrid stench assaulted his heightened sense instantly. He did not flinch at the provocation, only tensed his arms. Narrowly resisting the urge to reach out and strangle the impudent wretch he so towered over.
Torchwick looked blandly at him, then behind him. To Neo, still sitting primly by the door. Her eyes had not left the magazine, nor had the publication left her. However, her hands had glided seamlessly and silently to her parasol. Resting it silently across herself, the tip pointed leisurely at the Lieutenant's back.
Torchwick was more than happy to note as well, that the Lieutenant had himself come unarmed. Perhaps under the impression that his physical stature alone would be enough to deal with two humans.
"We could easily do what you have not." Bane said "You are but a convenience to us. One that has grown less so, lately. A position you will grow to find quite painful, I assure you."
Torchwick continued to smirk "So I reiterate: prove it."
A tense silence fell between the two. Both waiting for the other to make a move. Torchwick would rather not waste his time on a fight. But he knew the way that animals like the White Fang thought. All violence and brute force. Subtlety and planning were, most times, foreign concepts to them. If it became necessary for himself and Neo to cull one overly aggressive member, they could probably hide it. Write it off as a 'work-place accident' of sorts. Wild animals didn't belong in the workplace, after all.
He did not, however, want to waste his time or accrue more unwanted trouble from it.
There was one who he felt himself far more concerned with, after all.
As the criminal and Lieutenant silently watched each other, she joined them.
Her presence was announced by the brittle click of glass and the subtle shift in the air around them. Every step she took carried both with her. Something silently oppressive and unrelenting. A power that neither could grasp but knew instinctually as it drew close.
The Lieutenant shifted his weight, and turned to face the approaching footsteps.
She stepped through the door with a smooth and elegant sway to her gait. High-heeled shoes of dark glass covered slender feet beneath an anklet of obsidian jewels. Lithe legs rising palely to a crimson dress, whose skirt ended well above her knees, a large split in its side, revealing a pair of black shorts, further split and weaved by black lace. An azure flower flourished above it, centered by a sapphiric jewel. Her crimson dress rose to a décolletage, just above her chest. It stretched to either side there, ran the lengths of her arms, embroidered in the dull yellows of inert Dust. A black choker ringed her pretty neck snuggly, resting beneath a soft jaw and pointed chin. The bearing of her face was regal and dainty. Eyes of a fiery gold and long hair the color of raven's down curled over a shoulder, growing ashen at the tip.
Cinder Fall surveyed the room smoothly. A soft smile upon her lips that brought no ease to the Criminal and his cohort, nor the Lieutenant.
"I'm so glad to see that the both of you are here." Cinder said, voice soothing and sweet "There is a small matter that we all need to attend to."
The Lieutenant watched Cinder with a predatory gaze for a moment, then backed away from Torchwick. He could save their fight for later, something which Torchwick was silently grateful for.
He was less grateful, however, as Cinder made her way towards him. "You've made far less progress than you promised, Roman."
"Not for a lack of trying." Roman answered, looking pointedly to the Lieutenant "I can only do so much when I've got the police breathing down my neck constantly."
"Oh, Roman, I thought you could handle a little pressure." Cinder said, her tone disarmingly and eerily pleasant, before turning her attention to the Lieutenant "However, he is not the only one to have been found wanting."
The Lieutenant gave a low growl "We've been doing our part. Diligently."
"Really?" Roman sneered "Because from where I've been standing, you've-"
Cinder raised her hand towards Torchwick in a gentle gesture. The Criminal's words died instantly, replaced by a grimace.
"Torchwick's work, isn't yours." Cinder spoke "You were given a task of your own to perform. You've proven far less effective."
The Lieutenant growled again "My people are working diligently. We've had many plans to help aid his work." The Lieutenant motioned to Torchwick "My superiors are not happy with the recent string of failures either."
"Quite." Cinder answered.
"We're not sure where the fault lies." The Lieutenant continued "The major plans we'd developed were all undercut before they could be enacted. Police were ready to intervene, proper numbers never arrived, or unexpected resistance would be encountered. Worse still, our safehouses and rallying points are becoming compromised. We're losing vital intel and ground on all fronts."
Cinder quirked a brow at the Lieutenant's statement, curious but unimpressed.
"It sounds like you've got a rat among you." Roman said snidely, puffing on his cigar.
"Watch your tongue." The Lieutenant growled "Ever since you failed to properly dispose of Tukson, we've been watching closely for further potential traitors to the cause."
Torchwick grimaced "Can't pin that blame on me, I had a plan. You can put it on whoever didn't bother to check he was still-"
Once more Cinder motioned to the Criminal. This time turning to look at him fully. The gentle and pleasant air around her evaporated amidst a wave of heat and authority. She looked at the Criminal questioningly, but sought no answer beyond submission.
Once more, Torchwick fell silent, eyes darting to Neo, still seated in her corner.
The Criminal's partner had turned away from her magazine now. Watching the situation intently. Silently ready to move at the most subtle of motions.
"… Continue, Lieutenant." Cinder spoke, returning her gaze to the Faunus.
"We've been keeping a close watch on our ranks, since Tukson escaped." Bane growled "We could not account for him having leaked information before his fleeing. However, our losses recently were not something he would have known. So… Yes, we've been searching to see where there may be a leak in our organization."
"Good." Cinder spoke, watching the Lieutenant intently "The result?"
"We believe that the leak is coming from our communications network." Bane answered "My brothers in arms know the consequences for treason are quite dear. If they are captured, silence is the only survivable choice… however, were someone to have breached our communications, they would be far better prepared to act against us. We have rules about destroying our equipment in the face of capture."
"Do you believe someone in your ranks failed to do so?" Cinder inquired.
"We've grown to believe so, yes." The Lieutenant answered "We don't know where specifically the leak has come from, which has made trying to deal with rather it difficult. We have an idea as to who has been stalling our efforts as well, but have been unable to properly identify them."
"That would be?" Cinder asked.
"Someone called 'Crazy Steve'." The Lieutenant answered, turning to look at Torchwick "From what we gather, he's a new element to Vale's underworld."
"Feh." Roman huffed, gesturing with his cigar "New guys come and go with each shift of the police… Still, I remember hearing about what happened to Xiong and his organization. Said he lost everything to one guy."
"That 'one guy' is currently our problem." The Lieutenant answered "They've done well to keep us busy, and keep out our sight while doing it."
"A problem, you should be more than capable of handling." Cinder spoke.
"We've been working towards it." The Lieutenant answered "It took time to figure out how we were being infiltrated and where from."
"And?" Cinder asked.
The Lieutenant chuckled darkly. "Well, I wouldn't have told you we figured it out, if we hadn't."
The Lieutenant reached a meaty hand into the pocket of his uniform. Thick, calloused fingers drew forth a scroll that seemed tiny in his hands. He opened the device, finger running over the display briefly. Information flashed before him, before settling over a map of the city.
"After we figured out how we were being tracked, one of our informants had the idea to seed information among our safehouses. A couple tertiary objectives, made to look more important. We can't be wasting resources watching all of them and waiting to see which one gets hit. So, we ran a few jobs to see which ones had his attention."
"I take it you have results then." Cinder spoke.
The Lieutenant nodded "We had a series of long-standing contracts out on prominent families. Most of them from Atlas, but a few locals. Good for sending a message, or settling old feuds."
"This pertains to your failings because?" Cinder asked.
"The people I've been sending out, haven't been coming back." The Lieutenant growled "Nor have the families themselves been bumped off."
"Meaning he took the bait." Roman said, puffing on his cigar.
"That's the thought." The lieutenant answered "I've been closely watching the list of contracts since then. And we've got another tonight."
With those words, the Lieutenant swiped the map away and opened his listed contacts. His finger swiped over an unlisted number, and the device connected with a click. A holographic display leapt outward from the device, hovering over it. It displayed the interior of a vehicle, a poorly maintained and cleaned one, the Criminal noted. Seated within, a collection of White Fang. Each visibly armed with blades or a gun.
The image shifted, panning upwards as though affixed to a position. One of the White Fang panned into view from the hologram's upper edge. Upside down, they looked directly at the Hologram.
"Are you in position?" The Lieutenant asked.
"Just about sir." The White Fang answered "Chill's already in position, we're waiting for the family and attaching the cameras as instructed. You should have a good view of the job."
"Perfect." The Lieutenant growled, a pleased edge to his voice. He turned towards the Criminal and Young woman in his vision. "Let's see if we can't get a better view of things now."
…
It was a warm summer's night in the city of Vale. Nightfall blanketed the city from the unreachable horizon's edge. The broken moon hung overhead; stars glittered like shattered glass hanging distantly above the concrete streets below, bathed warm in the street light. Chief among the buildings on the street, was a theater. Its name emblazoned brilliantly above the marquee as the Regency Theatre. Beneath it, printed upon the marquee itself, shows and stories of the season's current flavor. Action and comedy to raise the heart, and fill the mind with wondrous thoughts. Horror and tragedy to sunder it, ground those wonders with painful truths and sorrowful displays. Then romance, to set it aloft once more with but a tender touch.
The Mark of Felis
Shadows of Kuroyuri
Reapers and Wanderers
From the cool depths of the theater, stepped a family. A mother, a father, and a young girl, dressed prim and well. The parents moved at a calm, relaxed gait, standing close to one another despite the warmth. Their countenance, dark and regal, tinged with the early grays of age, happy and content. The girl moved with vigor and energy, as begot one of such youth. Dashing to and fro, striking out at the air and shadows as though they were some great unseen foe. Every bounce and step carrying a laugh and cry of joy.
The family did not walk far from the entrance of the Regency. They turned out the entrance and started along the sidewalk at a leisurely stride. The girl darted ahead of her parents, continuing her imaginary sword fight. They continued along the sidewalk, passing a parked van, and to the corner of the building. The Regency, like many buildings in the city, could not afford space for their patrons to park. Space is a rare commodity in many cities, to waste it on private parking is luxury only the affluent could afford. Though the family was affluent indeed, they were not of Vale, and were but visitors to the kingdom. A vacation, to enjoy the beginnings of the Vytal Festival, before returning home.
However, that did not preclude them from finding parking not so far away, public though it may have been. From there, they would swiftly travel back to their hotel, a few blocks away. A peaceful end to a wonderful day.
But, as the family drew further away from the theatre, little mind did they pay to the van. As its driver allowed it to begin to idle forward under the bare power of its engine. It moved at a crawl, stalking the family so blissfully ignorant of the danger upon them. Staying so barely outside their purview.
Onward the family went, in their ignorance. The vehicle stalking slowly behind them by several yards. The streets around them, deserted. It was the point in the night where many knew better than to be out. Even more so, as news of the violence that constantly grasped at the city's throat only grew.
Blissfully ignorant did they carry on. Their destination growing ever closer.
Until at last, they reached the last length to their vehicle. A brief jaunt through an alley between a pair of buildings. There were less conspicuous ways to their destination. Staying with the sidewalk and streetlights, keeping out of the back alleys and gutters of the city. But they were longer, requiring the family to waste time walking their way around the block.
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The alley was a straight path. Their destination tantalizingly in view just on the other side. A temptation too great for many a weary traveler so late in the night.
Too great for the family as well, as they began down it. The girl darted ahead fearlessly and courageously, to dash the shadows before her. Without hesitation, save a word of caution for the girl, the parents followed after her. Their footfalls echoed off the close stone walls of the alleyway. The girl's cries of excitement bending into joyous howls as they resounded. The girl's imagination held her tight in its grasp, and refused to release itself.
Until, without a moment's pause, reality thrust itself upon her.
Halfway into the alley, a shadow thrust itself back at the girl. It moved from behind a dumpster, slow and calculated, until it stood in the middle of the alley. Blocking the way.
The girl's cries died away with a yelp of surprise. Her thrusting gait jerked into a retreating jump. The parents froze in their tracks, as they observed the shadow before them. Smoothly, it moved towards them.
From the dark shadows of the alley, into the pale light of the moonlit night, strode a faunus. Dressed in the garb of the White Fang. His mouth exposed beneath his metal mask in a vicious sneer. At his side, in his hand and leveled at the hip, a pistol of Atlesian make.
Barrel pointed at the girl.
The parents began to cry out, the father broke away from the mother, lunging towards the girl. His words were drowned out by the roar of an engine, and the howl of tires against pavement. The van that had been stalking them in slow and animalistic fashion made itself known. The vehicle roared into the mouth of the alley at an angle, blocking the way and trapping the family.
Then the panel door of the Van swept open. More White Fang leapt from the vehicle, Four and another who remained in the van, waiting to drive. They carried hatchets and machetes with them, edges honed and ready.
The parents turned back briefly, long enough to realize what was happening.
Then the White Fang began to close in on them. The only escape: past the one pointing a gun at the child. How foolish they must have felt in that moment, having chosen to put themselves in so obviously dangerous of a situation, ill-prepared. Whatever illusion of safety they may have held, shattered.
The White Fang with the gun began to move towards the daughter. The girl recoiled immediately; expression fearful.
The father and mother moved with instinctual purpose. Strides bolstered with the speed of parents protecting their young. Arms stretched out to their child, grasping at them.
Death closed in upon them. Ready to hack and slash and pierce them until they were naught but another puddle of blood in the city's history. One more tragic mistake that could have been avoided.
'Yeah, fuck that.'
I jumped off the roof of the theater, a good thirty-to-forty-foot drop, at a minimum.
I used the White Fang with the gun as a cushion to land. The grunt folded beneath me like old laundry, and served his purpose. He shouted in pain, as the gun suddenly escaped his hand. It went off as it did, but their aim was off, the bullet bit the ground instead. Not safe, but better than the alternative.
The Grunt reacted to my landing on him with a yelp of surprise and a howl of pain. His aura likely giving him enough cushion to not immediately take injury.
So, I stomped his head into the pavement as I stood up. For good measure.
I turned to the family as the mother and father grasped the child. The mother wrapping around the girl in a shielding embrace, and the father moved into a fighting stance. He stood, frozen halfway into a strike. The fear in his and the mother's replaced with further shock and bewilderment. The harsh light from the Van obscuring them and myself with hard shadows.
I paid them but a moment's mind, to make sure they were ok. Physically, anyway, what was happening was probably going to leave some mental scars.
Past them, to the end of the alley, by the van, The White Fang stood frozen, shadows cast down towards us. The lighting was wrong, I couldn't see their faces. But I'd done this song and dance enough to know I'd just knocked them out of step. I was going to keep it that way.
My head twitched down towards the parents. Fearfully looking to me as they stood vigilant over their daughter.
I spoke one word. "Run."
Then I leapt over them, and broke into a dead sprint down the alley.
The White Fang didn't have time to respond.
I crashed into the closest of them fist first, Legion Assault, my weight throwing them off balance and staggering them. I allowed my forward momentum to carry me further. I swiveled on a heel, other arm lashing out in a hammer strike at the next closest Grunt, one with a machete. His weapon started to rise in a guard, but I was faster. The heel of my hand hammered into his throat. A strangled squawk escaped him as I carried the last of the momentum through, turning back on the first Grunt and punching him in the back of the head as I slipped past him. His lost balance and new momentum toppling him forward.
Then the grunts began reacting. The two that I had not been able to reach recovered as their numbers dwindled. One with a hatchet took a swing at my neck, while one with a machete chopped at my shoulder. I dodged the hatchet, but let the machete hit. My duster was strong enough to take the hit, but risking the hatchet was suicide. The blade of the hatchet whiffed my neck and I felt the machete strike dully against my shoulder. The Hatchet-grunt stepped in, getting his balance back as his off-hand lashed out at me, grasping.
I stepped into the Hatchet-grunt's grasp, his hand missing as my fist rose up in an uppercut. I caught him square on the underside of his jaw, and his head swung backward. The hatchet swung backwards haphazardly as he tried to get clear of me. I avoided the swing easily and turned on the one with the Machete, as his hand began to reel back. I clasped his wrist in one hand and smacked the weapon out of his with the other. It clattered to the ground as I used his arm to pull him into a knee strike, doubling him over it.
The Fang that I'd slammed in the throat recovered enough to make a halfhearted swing at me with another machete. I responded by tossing the Fang already in my grasp at him. The two fell in a tangled heap as the throat-struck Fang became weighed and slowed by his friend. Both jockeying to try and stand up, while simultaneously trying to use the other as a point of leverage.
While they danced the horizontal mambo, I began to draw my cattle prod, put the fight to a faster end.
Before I could though, the van blocking the alley began to roar its engine. There was a squeal of tires and metal paneling against masonry as the vehicle began to angle itself down the alley. I wasn't sure what the idiot behind the wheel was thinking, but I had to imagine he was going to try and run me down.
I released my cattle prod before it was fully draw, leaving it dangling half-way out at an inappropriate angle. A stab of pain leapt through my hand as I tried to quick draw That Gun off my hip. My hand didn't move smoothly through the motion, but my aura compensated for old wounds. Iron cleared leather as quick as I could manage, and I sent a round slamming through the windshield. Around the ballpark of where the driver's head should've been.
I must've hit close to home, because the roar of the engine died back to an idling whine. The lurching leap of the vehicle shuddered back to a crawl, dragged slower by the confines of the alley.
Before I had a chance to correct myself, the second hatchet-Grunt returned. This time succeeding in getting a grip on me and pulling me into a grapple. He managed to punch me in the face, with the hand holding the hatchet, and then tried to repay the throat-strike I'd given him. There wasn't much I could do to avoid it, so I guarded against the blow, bolstering my aura while I hooked a leg behind one of his. The hit landed, and I felt my throat close slightly while my aura pushed back against the blow. As he recoiled to try and strike again, my hand holding That Gun came up beside his head. In the Mojave, I'd have ventilated his head. Instead, I shot the wall behind him. Let the muzzle flare and gunshot wreak havoc on his sharper senses. He gave a surprised yowl and the shot echoed off the walls. I pushed forward, tripping him over our hooked legs. He fell back and dragged me with him. I let myself fall with him, using the momentum plus my weight to twist and drive an elbow into the side of his head, at the edge of his eye socket.
He grunted in pain as we connected with the ground, and I felt his grip loosen enough to break free. I slipped loose, and slammed a fist into his face for good measure, before leaping to my feet and kicking him in the face.
As I got to my feet, the Van's engine began to rev again. Slowly ramping back up to the roar it had while trying to ram itself down the alley. Not wanting to chance things, I wasted precious seconds swapping over to my Flare gun. Even if the first bullet had been enough to stall the driver, I wasn't counting on a second one to work. I also knew that the flare wasn't so likely to get through the windshield given its slower velocity.
So I shot the engine block instead.
It was a normal flare round, just a mixture of phosphorous, epoxy, and other flammable bits. I figured the fire would cause the driver to panic. Accidently plow into a wall.
What I didn't expect was for the flare to catch the fuel cell.
I didn't know a lot about how dust works, much less the vehicles that run off of it. I only knew it was volatile.
Then the flare hit the engine of the van and, initially, there was only a small burst of flame from under the hood. The flare breaking up on impact and getting pulled in.
Then the fuel must have caught, and the hood launched off the vehicle in a fireball.
The Van died immediately, and I heard the driver screaming. After a moment, he scrambled out of the vehicle. Moving instinctually away from the blaze as it began to consume the vehicle.
I bolted towards him, in his frenzied confusion, and grabbed him by the collar. I pulled him away from the fire, then slammed his head into the nearest brick wall. I released him, and as he began to fall, drove my knee into his head, slamming it into the brick wall again. He crumpled to the floor in a heap and I turned back down the alley.
The two Fang that I'd left on the ground had managed to pull themselves up, and were facing towards me. The light in the alley had changed, now only the dancing, chaotic amber light of the flames was on us. They could see me, standing in front of them with my back to the fire.
I could see them, backs to the alley. The hesitation in their expressions. The way they shifted anxiously on their feet and gracelessly shifted their weapons. The lack of preparedness they had for this situation. They'd come to whack a family out on the town for the evening. They weren't ready for an actual fight.
But more than that, I could see something else that they couldn't.
I made a show of reloading my flaregun, setting my kit back to rights in slow and methodical fashion. Making it seem like I was giving them an opening.
The hatchet-Grunt took the bait and came charging towards me.
I finished drawing my cattle prod and brought the it up. Our weapons connected, and I parried the haft of his hatchet off the shaft of my electrode. Running the length of the weapon until the head of my weapon caught under his. With a twist, I wrenched his weapon out of his hand and then thrust forward, stabbing the electrode into his chest. The grunt howled as the electricity coursed through him and I forced him to the ground. I pinned him there, as his companion with the machete tried to find his nerve.
His window closed.
The father crept up behind him, and his arm barred themselves around the Grunt's throat. Pulling the grunt into a chokehold. The Grunt flailed for a moment, before the father kicked out the knee of the Grunt and forced him to the ground. His hold released on the Grunt, as the father's palm glided over the Grunt's face. He pushed downward, slamming the Grunt's head into the pavement. With grace I'd only see on Veteran fighters, the father immediately reeled back, before slamming his hand down on the Grunt's face. The strike instantly sending the Grunt limp.
I retracted the electrode from the hatchet-grunt and rose. He curled over on himself, and I got off him. He wasn't going anywhere.
My gaze rose to meet the father's. The man had ignored my order to flee. Normally a blackmark against him, and his wife, as I could see her and their daughter. Still standing where they'd been, the mother staring me down with cat-like intensity. Yet, looking at the father, and seeing the calm way the mother yet shielded her daughter, I didn't hold it against them. The way they carried themselves spoke more than their outward appearance did. Most people don't keep calm when the shooting starts.
The family had been listed among the many that were under threat tonight. After figuring out where they were supposed to be hit, I'd wanted to hurry. The White Fang hiding out in their unmarked van had seemed an obvious enough target. I could've removed them and been gone before they'd even had a chance to make a move. Make it so as few people saw me as possible. But I'd wanted to be thorough, make sure I left nothing to chance.
I'd have missed the guy in the alley.
I wasn't sure what it was that kept tonight from turning into a tragedy, but I wouldn't call it luck.
I stood there, in front of the father, his face illuminated by the fire of the burning van behind me. It was hard to gauge how much of me he could see, but I could see him. He seemed younger from above. He was a man of middle age, with a stony face, dark hair, and cold blue eyes.
Those eyes regarded me warily, calculating, as he began to step backwards, further away from me. Without taking his eyes off of me, he returned to his wife and child. As soon as he was beside them, his wife's hand rose to his. He looked down to her as she crouched, cradling their daughter. He fell to his knees and embraced them. The parent's eyes left me, looking to one another, then their daughter.
The daughter's gaze never drifted away from me.
She stared me down with wide, brilliantly blue eyes.
But her gaze was not the same as her parents. The fear that was there, was muted, weakened. She looked at me, almost transfixed. There was something else.
I didn't have time to mull what.
There were still people in danger tonight.
Given as good of an opening as I was going to get, I pushed my aura into my legs and jumped. I sailed over the van, and ran off into the night.
So much to do.
Not enough time.
…
Silence settled over the office. The video displayed by the scroll's holographic feed had captured everything. Now they showed only the rooftops and stars above, as the defeated White Fang lay prone in the alley. The observers silently mulled the information presented to them through their subversive planning.
"… It would appear-" Bane growled "That we've found our problem."
"Quite." Cinder answered.
Torchwick remained silent a moment longer, puffing softly on his cigar. Looking through the haze of it to the display. His brow furrowed as he concentrated.
Cinder's gaze drifted over to him, sharp and intent. "Do you know who he is, Roman?"
Roman bared his teeth in a snarl "Tsk, hardly. But I recognize him from that botched job at the docks a few weeks back. Didn't get his name, but he wasn't working alone. It was him and about five other teenagers."
"The stories we've been getting aren't about five teenagers." Bane growled "It's about one guy, the description we've been getting is pretty consistent."
"Hey, I'm just telling you what I know." Torchwick shot back "Your people were there too, so you should've been able to put this together yourself."
A bestial growl escaped the Lieutenant as the muscles in his arms began to cord. "Watch your tong-"
"Silence." Cinder spoke, voice hardly scratching an octave.
The office fell silent once more. Waiting for what the young woman had to say.
Cinder studied the scroll intently for a moment, pondering, before allowing herself to continue.
"I am… aware of who this 'Crazy Steve' is." Cinder spoke, eyeing both the Criminal and the Lieutenant "It would also appear, that you are both now aware of what the issue is. So tell me, how shall we proceed?"
It was not a question.
The Lieutenant watched the young woman carefully, not allowing himself to speak. He remembered the day that she had appeared before his leader, and had coerced him into aiding her. Were he not aware of how dangerous she was, he had instincts enough to sense it. There was a power about the woman before him. Like he was standing at the distant edge of a storm. Something miles off, but as fickle and tumultuous as the winds. One errant whisper away from danger.
"… We shall begin work on a plan immediately." Bane growled "Once everything is in place, we will inform you."
The Young woman gazed at the Lieutenant a moment longer. The Faunus still feeling as though at any moment, lightning may crash through the roof of the warehouse and strike him dead.
Then, Cinder smiled, and spoke "I shall look forward to it."
The young woman turned, and began down the stairs of the warehouse. As she passed the door of the office, she faced the criminals and Lieutenant once more, a smile still upon her lips. "Do not keep me waiting. I would hate to return here."
Then she left. Allowing the Criminals and Lieutenant to have the room once more.
Without hesitation, the Lieutenant approached Torchwick. The difference in size and power between them, apparent.
"I will inform you, should we need your aid." Bane growled "Should you happen to 'remember' any other important details, do not hesitate to share them."
The Lieutenant glared down at the smaller human male. Who, in turn, looked back up to him with boredom and thinly veiled disdain.
Torchwick took a long drag from his cigar, and blew the smoke into the Lieutenant's face.
"We'll do our job, as we have been." Torchwick answered blandly "Now, run along and do yours."
There was a brief moment, where the Criminal sensed that the Lieutenant wished to snap him in half. He saw it in the way the Faunus held himself.
But, without further prompting, the Lieutenant turned and left. Slamming the door shut as he did so.
A moment more of silence passed, as the Criminal enjoyed his cigar. His gaze drifted to his accomplice, still sitting in her corner. Though her magazine now discarded as she regarded him.
"The nerve of some people." Torchwick answered.
The Thief chuckled silently, smirking dangerously at him.
"Did you think it was those kids?" Torchwick asked "You'd have said something, right Neo?"
The Thief playfully stuck her tongue out at the Criminal, as she rose from her seat. She stretched languidly as she approached him.
Torchwick flicked the embers off the end of his cigar, and stashed it into his jacket pocket. He then gave his partner in crime a dapper smile. "Wanna get some ice cream?"