Here we go.
Cover Art: Jack Wayne
Chapter 20
"It's quiet," Jaune said.
"I'd say too quiet," Russel added, looking up from the machine he was cleaning. That he had time to do that was a big enough thing alone, especially on an afternoon where it was just the two of them, Velvet spending time with her team in Beacon. "We're normally flush with customers by now, or at least we'd have some."
"We do have some."
Russel rolled his eyes. "More than four."
Jaune might have argued there were eight actually, two to each table, but it didn't change the fact there were four sets of customers and that such was a suspiciously low number for six in the afternoon. This was their rush hour, or at least it normally was. There was no rushing around at the moment.
"I'm going to go take a look," Jaune said. "Can you hold the fort here?"
"Me, alone, against four tables? Somehow I think I'll manage."
It was Jaune's turn to roll his eyes as he walked by the employee to the wall, hanging his apron on it for a few moments. He didn't want to walk around outside in it. His arm was still in a sling, but no longer a cast and he could move his shoulder a little, though it still stung when he did. Blake had taken a look at it that morning and said it would probably be good to go in a few days. He'd visit a doctor just to be sure, but it certainly felt better.
The air was cool outside, the sun still in the sky but having passed beyond the tall buildings on either side of Walker Street. The cobbled road was lined with shadows, but tellingly wasn't lined with pedestrians. "Huh, that's odd. It's usually busier around this time."
Jaune's feet brought him down to the south end of Walker Street, toward the business district which had once made up the majority of his customer base, before it was overtaken with huntsmen and huntresses, that was. He still got the occasional to-go order from men and women on their way home, especially from the science park nearby, an industrial complex for researchers and the like. Around this time, they should have been on their way home and in need of a pick-me-up.
Instead of finding the road toward the business district, he came across a bright red metal fence with its legs cast in cement blocks, crossing Walker Street from side to side and cutting off the entire street. The fencing had signs on it warning of danger and warning away pedestrians, and although there wasn't much in the centre of it, there was a portable cabin of sorts, along with a locked container. Beside that was a man in a brightly-coloured vest, looking at his scroll.
Jaune tapped his hand on the fencing to get his attention. "Hello? Excuse me." He smiled when the man looked up, blinked and walked over. "Yes, hi. Um, can I ask what's going on here?"
"Construction work," the man replied. "If you need to go around, you can follow Walker Street to the end, take a left or right and go down Greene Street or Banks Road. Can't let you through here, I'm afraid. More than our insurance is worth."
"No, no, I don't need to get through. I run a coffee shop here." He gestured back towards it but gave up when he realised it was out of sight. "Look, I just wanted to know how long this is going to go on for. It's kind of affecting my business."
"Sorry about that," the man said, not sounding too sorry – not that he should, Jaune supposed. It wasn't this guy's fault. "It's essential maintenance on the pathway here and couldn't be put off, or at least that's what the Council tells us."
"The Council of Vale?"
"The local District Council." The man saw his confused and quickly explained, "The Council of Vale makes the big decisions that affect the whole city, but there's too much to do. The District Councils are smaller ones – fully elected, of course – but they deal with the day-to-day stuff in a smaller area and get their budgets from the Council of Vale. That includes budget for maintenance and repairs. As for time, well, we've not even started yet, but I'd say four months."
"F-Four months!?"
"Well, if all goes well the work should be done in two to three," the foreman offered, noticing Jaune's distress. "We say four to cover ourselves. You should have had a warning about this a few days ago. A letter in the post?"
"No, not at all…" But then there'd been the attack. It wasn't hard to imagine it being lost in all that and the confusion afterwards. "Isn't this a little short notice, though? Shouldn't we get more warning if it's going to impact our business for that long?"
"I don't make the decisions there. Local council just told us we had to start today and we did. We're a business too, you know." The man was starting to look increasingly uncomfortable with the questions, so Jaune nodded and let him go, walking a ways away himself to sit on a bench and consider his options.
Four months with one end of Walker Street cut off… It wouldn't stop all pedestrians and people could still reach him, but it would gut the natural flow of pedestrians through the street, who made up a good bulk of his customer base, at least for impulse buys and takeaway orders. The usual cast of huntsmen and huntresses could still find their way through the other end, but that raised the question of why they hadn't.
"They wouldn't cut off both ends, would they? No, that's stupid. I'd have heard about it if they did, or Russel would have mentioned it." If the south end of Walker Street led to the business district, the north end was better connected to the centre of Vale and all its amenities, including the Bullhead docks and the international airdocks. It was also the route most people took from Beacon, so Russel would have come down it earlier.
It was about fifty metres past his own diner that he heard the distant hum of music, and it only grew louder as he reached the end of Walker Street, where a large crowd seemed to be congregating at the corner. It didn't quite cut off the street, covering only about a half of it, but everyone who looked to be headed down instead diverted to see what the fuss was about. Jaune's eyes narrowed and he too joined the throng, struggling to see over the top of people's shoulders.
"Hey there," a chirpy voice called from behind. A young woman stood there, either his age or a little older. She wore a tight-fitting black top and a black apron, both of which had a golden coffee cup emblazoned on it.
Café Prime. So, this was their new outlet? He tried to fight the pit that opened up in his stomach at the crowd behind him, and the panic of being discovered. Luckily, it seemed the girl didn't recognise him, since she was still smiling.
"Uh, hey," he returned. "I was just wondering what was going on."
"It's the grand opening of Café Prime's Walker Street diner. Welcome!" The girl let out an overly-friendly and obviously-fake giggle and pushed a flier into his hands. "You're welcome to a free cup when you order one inside."
Jaune glanced down at it and then back to the packed diner, which had people spilling out onto the streets. "I doubt I could get inside."
"Oh that, well, since it's our opening we thought we should do something special to commemorate. We got Olly Firs to come down and perform for the opening." Her eyes flicked back to the diner herself and he had the feeling she'd have loved to be inside rather than out here.
"Ah, right. Well, I'll leave you to it. I've got somewhere to be."
"Yeah, sure…" Her interest waned quickly and she barely noticed when he slipped away. The music continued to blast out, and now that he was closer he could recognise it a song he'd heard recently on the radio. Well, at least now he had an explanation for it.
He hurried back to share the news with Russel.
"So, they got some famous celebrity to come down? Olly Firs is a singer and songwriter, I think."
Jaune nodded in response to Russel's question, earning a long sigh. It more than explained why they'd had no customers, especially in conjunction with the sudden road works. Anyone headed his way had to pass Café Prime, and were all being drawn in by the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It definitely hurt his sales for the day, which were looking to be a resounding loss, at least for today.
"It'll be fine," Jaune said. "I doubt they can keep it up and it's just one day. They can't have a celebrity every day, right?"
"Probably not. Still, feels a little convenient. The road works, I mean," he added when Jaune didn't understand. "The timing is ridiculous and this plays right into their hands."
"You think Café Prime made the local council close the street? Isn't it just the other way around? The guy said letters had been sent out, so Café Prime would have known. They did this today to take advantage of it."
"Hm, you're probably right," Russel said.
The door to the diner opened, the sound enough in the relative silence to catch both their attentions, though once Russel realised who it was, he scoffed silently and looked away, making it clear he wasn't going to serve this person.
Jaune was used to it, thankfully, and moved over to the girl's table as she sat down. "Evening Pyrrha."
"Good evening Jaune," the redhead returned, smiling. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but she looked especially good today, with a little shadow around her eyes and a somehow even smoother complexion. "It's quiet today. Is something wrong?"
"Didn't you see the commotion at the end of Walker Street?"
"I come here though the back alleys."
He had to raise an eyebrow at that. The back alleys weren't exactly dangerous – not in the upmarket areas of Vale – but it certainly wasn't the quickest or easiest route from the Bullhead docks to the diner.
"It's quieter," Pyrrha explained, though it didn't really explain much. She seemed unwilling to say more. "What's happening on Walker Street?" she asked. "You said something about a commotion."
He explained for her benefit what he'd already seen, filling in the details as best he could. "It's just both being at the same time that causes the issue," he finished. "Though I imagine that was on purpose on Café Prime's end."
"I-I see," Pyrrha said, sounding oddly nervous for some reason. "It must be hard on you."
"Well, it's just the one day. Honestly, I guess I'm kind of relieved." He noticed her inquisitive look and quickly explained, "Well, at least this makes sense. If it wasn't anything like this, I'd have to wonder if I'd done something wrong. I'd rather it be them doing something than me messing up."
"That makes sense."
"And besides, it's not like I can convince a celebrity to come down and endorse my place."
Pyrrha laughed weakly. "No, I… I guess not."
"Is something wrong, Pyrrha?"
"No, I…" She sighed. "I think I'm just a little thirsty. Can I get my usual?"
Oh, sheesh, he hadn't even served her. Jaune slapped a hand into his face. "Sorry about that, you didn't come here to hear me whine about my problems. One caramel cappuccino coming right up." It was a matter of a minute or two to make it while Russel looked after the other customers, pointedly ignoring Pyrrha, who pointedly ignored him in turn.
When he came back, Pyrrha's face was calm again and she smiled at him, whatever earlier thoughts haunted her gone. "What are you going to do about Café Prime, then?" she asked as he served her coffee and sat down.
"Well, I'll just try to keep going. You sure you want to talk about my problems?"
"It's fine with me. I want to help."
"I'm not sure you can," he said with a laugh. It was only when she remained silent that he realised how that might sound. "Not that that's a bad thing. I mean, this is my business. You already helped me with everyone else when my place was ransacked, but business is business. I need to sort this out on my own."
"They're not," Pyrrha said. "Isn't calling in a celebrity endorsement considered cheating?"
"I think Weiss would say there's no such thing as cheating in business. Only what's legal and what isn't." And a few other things to boot, mostly about how the business world was cutthroat and ruthless. He hadn't believed that himself, but he did now.
"Weiss Schnee," Pyrrha mused. "I forgot she came here."
"She was here the other day…"
"Well, yes, but I was more focused on making sure you were okay," Pyrrha said. "And it's not like I spoke with her or her team on that walk."
"Aren't they your classmates?" he had to ask.
"Yes, well…"
"You're not friends?"
"I-It's not that…" Pyrrha squirmed awkwardly. "Or maybe it is, but I don't dislike her or anything. We're just not close. I don't really talk much with her or Team RWBY, so I don't know them very well."
He made a sound of understanding and relaxed a little. It was awkward enough with Pyrrha and Russel having whatever they did between them without him having to juggle Team RWBY and Pyrrha, too. And honestly, he'd have started to think there was fire to go along with the smoke if that were the case. "Associates, then," he said.
"I suppose that's not a bad term…"
"They're good girls, you know. You'd like them."
"Maybe…"
It didn't look like Pyrrha was keen on the idea of getting to know them anymore than she already did, which seemed odd. Pyrrha was friendly and seemed to genuinely like chatting with him, so he couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to do the same with the others. Russel caught his eye over her head, however, and shook his head, telling him to leave it be.
Maybe that was for the best. If Pyrrha didn't want to try and be friends with them, then he doubted Team RWBY would appreciate him trying to force her on them. Some people just didn't get on, he supposed. "It's fine," he said. "I-"
The door opened again with the tinkle of a bell, and was quickly followed by a familiar voice.
"Oh, Jaune~" Miltia cooed. "Your two favourite people in the world are here."
The twins. Jaune rolled his eyes and muttered a quick apology to Pyrrha, who let him go with a thoughtful – if troubled – nod of her own. He'd barely turned when the twins had hold of him and dragged him over to another table, sitting him down opposite them.
"Be a dear, Russ," Melanie called.
The huntsman in training rolled his eyes. "It's Russel."
"Ah, ah, the customer is always right."
"Not when it's you two." Despite his words, Russel went off to handle their order, leaving Jaune to his fate.
"Poo, he's no fun."
"Not as fun as you are," Miltia added, rubbing her foot against Jaune's knee. He flushed at the intimate gesture, not only proving her point but earning a delighted giggle for it. "There we go. Aw, you're so adorable it hurts."
"I'm not an animal."
"No, but you are our little puppy. Isn't that right, sis?"
"Sure feels like it," Melanie agreed cattishly, brushing her long hair past her bare shoulders and the white boa she wore around her neck. It looked like the two were in full teasing mode, which meant his life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
"Isn't it a little late for the two of you to be here? You already came for both your daily orders. I figured Junior would have you working the floors."
"We're paid to look sexy and deal with asshats," Melanie said.
"Which means we're paid to do what comes naturally," Miltia teased, pausing to wink at her sister. "But not much of either at the moment, what with Firs over there stealing all the customers."
"You know about Café Prime, then."
Melanie nodded. "Yes, it was hard to miss when it happened. News travels fast." She eyed him with a smile. "If you pay attention to it, that is. Either way, between the street being cut off and that fop singing his soppy love ballads, the Club is pretty much empty."
"And that's put Junior in a right mood," Miltia said. "Hence our decision to grace your petty life with our presence."
"Because your boss intimidates you?"
"Hey." Miltia kicked his shin lightly. He knew it was light because aura or not, she was huntress-trained and could have shattered it if she really wanted to. "Junior doesn't scare us. Nothing does."
"It's more that there's not much reasoning with him when he's like this," Melanie explained. "If someone normally acted like that we'd kick their ass, but it's frowned on to do that to your boss. So, we decided to remove the temptation and come here." She paused as Russel came back with their drinks and a plate with several slices of cake on it. "Hm, delicious. Thanks Russ-baby."
"It's… oh, sod it." Russel sighed. "They're all yours, boss. I'll handle the rest."
Traitor, Jaune thought, watching his employee abandon him to his fate.
"No work tonight, then?" he asked.
"We probably will later, once it all dies down, but not now. I doubt Junior expected Café Prime to cost him money. They'll probably end up regretting that." Melanie smiled at the thought and tapped a finger against her lips.
Jaune remained silent. He'd made them promise not to do anything to Café Prime because of him, like trying to sabotage them to help him out, but if they wanted to do it because their business was affected? Well, it wasn't his place to get involved. It wasn't like he was endorsing it. No way. He just wasn't about to complain if something happened.
Totally different. Sure it was.
"It's not all bad," Miltia said. "Junior rented out one of the backrooms to an old friend who has a… interview to attend to. Very hush-hush," she added when he raised an eyebrow. She winked. "As in, it has to remain hush-hush or people might be upset."
"This is one of those things I'm not supposed to ask about, isn't it?"
"Maybe~" they replied in unison, sharing a look and giggling at his expense.
Jaune sighed. "You two…"
"Oh, you know we love you," Melanie cooed, placing her hand on his. The gesture might have been more supportive had not the both of them started to run their feet up the inside of his legs. His face was red, even if he didn't close his legs for some reason.
It's not that I enjoy it, he told himself, lying through his teeth. Who could enjoy being teased by two attractive girls like that? No one, that was who.
Don't worry your little head," Melanie leaned over to pat it for emphasis. "We're just looking out for our interests. It's all business, you see. We can't have people trying to harm things that belong to us. You're better off not knowing."
"For your own sake," Miltia added. "It's just one of our friends talking to another friend, trying to sort out a little misunderstanding about something. Construction work, I recall."
"Construction?" Jaune asked.
"Definitely bricks involved," Melanie agreed, nodding sagely.
Miltia laughed cruelly at some hidden joke.
"Yeah. One brick, anyway."
/-/
There was a loud crack as the brick came down, followed by a muffled scream. A figure in a chair thrashed and bucked but couldn't move, held down by the bindings about his stomach, legs and arms that kept him locked in place. There was also a binding over his mouth, with a rag wrapped around a circular object stuck inside.
Neo raised an eyebrow and regarded the brick once more, hefting it in her hand as she looked down at her handiwork. Most of the fingers were broken, along with the hand. She cocked her head to the side and poked one of them, earning a muffled whimper. She nodded, smiling a pretty smile and hopping back, hands behind her back, looking for all the world the diminutive angel she absolutely wasn't.
The door beside her opened a second later, letting in two men, one in a white coat and the other in a waistcoat and red tie. The taller man sighed and shucked off his, tossing it to the other, who caught it with a grumble and hung it up.
"This room is padded, right?" Roman asked.
"Little late to ask that if your little demon has already started on him," Junior pointed out. "But yes, it is - surrounded on all sides by padded rooms, too. Nothing that goes on here is going to be heard anywhere, least of all with the music downstairs."
"Oh goodie. I do so hate to be interrupted when I'm working." Roman strolled over to the bound teenager, placing a hand on his shoulder but still keeping his eyes locked on Junior's. "I appreciate the offer of a room by the way. You're not normally so charitable."
"The twins would have my balls if I charged for this. They want an update after, though."
"Hm, I wondered if he was on your turf."
"He's under my protection," Junior huffed, arms crossed. "What happened before happened because one of my men decided it wasn't worth the effort of paying attention. He's been dealt with."
"Oh?"
"He was paid off," Junior spat. "One of my own boys taking bribes. I can't believe it."
"What happened to him?"
"Eh, who knows?"
"I've a feeling you do, Junior."
"And so will most of the city when his body floats back up to the surface. The newspapers love that shit."
Roman cocked his head in acknowledgement. It wasn't his place to question his old friend's motives, nor how he ran his gang. There was a reason Junior was so respected in the underworld, after all. Almost as much as he was.
"A bribe, huh. Well, well, well, I guess that cuts off the possibility this was a snatch and grab."
"Why do you think I gave you the room?" Junior chuckled.
"You're hoping I'll find something."
"Got it in one, Roman. I have my suspicions, but I can't act on those. It's bad for business. Besides, your little girl found another one – and on my doorstep, again. Fuck with me once and I'll be angry, but twice? Who even does that?"
"Other than me, you mean," Roman said.
Junior grumbled. "Yeah, other than you. Still, I'll be a laughing stock if they manage it a third time, so make sure you get something out of this." Junior eyed the man in the chair, knowing he was listening in. "You want me to have someone ready to deal with his body after?"
The man in the chair started to tremble. His eyes faced downwards and so missed the wink shared between Roman and Junior.
"Now, now," Roman said softly. "If all goes well there won't be a need for that. Dealing with bodies is expensive and I'm sure we can find an easier solution. Besides, it's not like our friend here will be doing this again if we let him go."
"Mmph, mrbll!" the prisoner probably agreed.
"I'll leave it to you, then," Junior said, stepping away. "Call me if you need me." The barman cum criminal lord patted a folder and put it down on a table beside Roman's coat, and then left. Roman made a show of sighing and cracking his muscles, before he wandered over to the table and opened it, finding that Junior had not only found the man's name, but also his details.
"Gregory Sands-Sanson," Roman read, ignoring the jerk of the man at his name. "Age; 22, unemployed, dropped out of school, used to be from a respected family but was cast out after your third stint in jail for theft, drug dealing and then armed assault and robbery. Looks like they paid some good lawyers to keep you out of the slammer, but lost patience when you wouldn't fix yourself up. That's a shame, kid. Real shame."
The rest of the details were equally uninspiring, depicting a man who had gone through life without much in the way of effort or ethics. The latter Roman could forgive, but the former? You could be the worst scum on Remnant, but there was nothing he despised more than someone half-arsing things. Had Junior half-arsed his rise to kingpin? Had he half-arsed his own criminal empire? Had Jaune taken the easy route in opening his little diner? No, but this fuckwit seemed to think it was fine to mess with that – all three of them, really.
Most of the petty crimes he'd committed looked to be money related, the idiot taking whatever he needed for drink and drugs. Another waste in Roman's opinion. Though his cigars might have been considered a vice, at least he had a little class about it. He also didn't rough people up unless the situation got really out of hand.
It would have been easy to pass this off as more of the same; that Gregory had wanted some more cash and seen the innocent diner as a good target, but that didn't add up. Anyone who lived nearby would have known Jaune's wasn't open that day, and if he didn't live nearby, then what was he doing in the area in the first place? And besides, Junior's men missing this twice in a matter of days?
His goons could be stupid, but they weren't unreliable. They knew better than to slack off, and even if they weren't the smartest in a pinch, they weren't idiot enough to not know how to keep watch over a given location.
"Alright, Gregory – you don't mind if I call you that, do you?" Roman paused for a mumble, which he chose to interpret in his favour. "Great! Now, let's get this little gag off so you can sing a little better for us, hm? It looks like Neo has already started without me." He looked back to his protégé with a fond, yet exasperated expression, one that might have been followed with an `oh, you` and a soft chuckle.
Unfortunately, Gregory chose to use the moment his mouth was freed to ruin that potential moment. "Argh, fuck you both!" he howled. "My hand, my fucking hand! Why!?"
"Why what, Gregory?"
"Why did that bitch break my fingers!?"
"Well, I'd guess it's because you didn't answer her questions."
"SHE DIDN'T ASK ME ANYTHING!"
"Whoah!" Roman faked a gasp and leaned back. "You can't just say that. She didn't ask you anything because she can't. She's mute."
Roman pointed back to the girl, who had now taken to kicking one foot on the floor glumly, eyes on the back wall and watery tears in them. Her lip jutted out and her hands were linked behind her back, brick still held in it, but somehow still managing to look like she was on the verge of tears.
"Now look at what you've done," Roman sighed. "You've hurt her feelings."
"She slammed a brick on my hand!"
"Yes, but it's all about context. You see, Neo means a lot to me, so it upsets me when her feelings are hurt. Your hand and your health, on the other hand, mean less to me than what I leave in the toilet the night after a curry." Roman smiled charismatically and placed both hands on the chair arms, pushing his face close to a suddenly very frightened man's. "So, imagine how much it annoys me to have someone call her out on her disability. That's just rude." He smiled. "I think you should say sorry."
Gregory looked terrified, but be it bravado, pride or just plain old stupidity, he spat in Roman's face. "Fuck you."
Roman leaned back and brought up a finger to wipe it off. He inspected the spittle, considered it, and then nodded. "Interesting choice. Not the one I'd have made, but interesting. Neo, bring your little toy over here, would you?" Roman smiled patiently as the girl cocked her head in confusion and pointed to the prisoner. "No, not that toy," he laughed, ignoring Gregory's indignant snort. "The one in your hand."
The girl made an `oops` motion with one hand and skipped over, handing the brick to him.
"Is this the same one he tried to use?" Roman asked. "You went back for it?"
Neo smiled proudly and nodded.
"Ironic," Roman remarked, nodding. "I like it." He turned back to his `guest`. "Alright, Gregory, you've hurt Neo's feelings, so now I'm going to have to hurt yours. I'm not very good at the whole psychology thing, though, so I figure I'll just keep hitting you until your body hurts so much it transfers to the feels. That is, unless you decide to answer a few simple questions."
"I have two answers. Fuck, and you."
"Classy. Well, let's get started." Roman tossed the brick from hand to hand and smiled cruelly. "And remember, the safe word is cappuccino."
/-/
Pyrrha walked back from Jaune's alone, as she often did. Even if both she and Russel were at the same place and had to return to the same place, they never did so together and she made sure to leave an hour before his shift ended, just to prevent the possibility they'd be on the same Bullhead together. Even she couldn't help but sigh at how far they went to avoid one another, realising how ridiculous it sounded.
Since it was late and Walker Street was just about abandoned, she decided to head home that way and eschew the alley ways she normally ducked through to avoid being spotted by her adoring fans. As it was, she found herself stopping across the street from Jaune's latest competition, Café Prime, the very place that had led to his empty diner and sullen mood. It looked like any other coffee spot she'd seen before, but maybe that was what made it seem so lifeless compared to Jaune's – the fact that it was standardised and overly-familiar. Familiarity bred contempt, after all.
Or maybe it was just that they'd upset Jaune that caused her to glare at it. Luckily, it was closed so no one noticed, and the crowd that had congregated around it earlier had dispersed. There was a whole load of waste bags stacked by the bins outside to speak of the litter so many people had caused. At least they'd had the good will to clean that up.
Olly Firs, huh. She knew of him, not that she'd ever met him, but she'd heard one or two of his songs and liked them, and then heard others and not really been fussed either way. But his appearance in Vale and at Café Prime spoke of a sponsorship deal – something she was intimately familiar with thanks to her work with Pumpkin Pete and a few other popular brands in Mistral. They'd been stressful, especially with their ridiculous rules like how she couldn't ever eat a different breakfast cereal, at least in line of sight of anyone, or how she couldn't wear a certain brand of shoe because it went against her sponsors. Her agent handled most of it, but the hassle was still there, or it had been. She'd escaped all of that now.
And she liked not being famous.
Well, that was maybe an exaggeration. She'd been on the verge of tears a week ago, having no friends and no one in Beacon she could talk to, but the moment she'd met Jaune, everything changed. Now, she liked it, and wanted desperately to keep it.
Even if that means standing by while he suffers?
She tore her eyes away from the closed diner. It wasn't like that, she told herself. Jaune didn't know and hadn't asked for her support, and it wasn't like this would be a regular thing anyway. Café Prime could hardly have a different celebrity every day of the week. It was just a one-off promotional push for their opening. It wasn't like she was holding back to spite Jaune, nor to hurt his business.
You're just holding back because it's easier for you, her treacherous mind taunted. Because your happiness is more important than that of the person you call your best friend.
"It's not like that…"
And yet it was, in a way. Russel knew, of course. He knew exactly who she was, but for some unknown reason he'd chosen to keep that hidden from Jaune, granting her this one kindness even if he hated her guts. It had been worst today, since Jaune had openly mentioned celebrity endorsement and for the first time Russel's eyes had locked onto hers, his thoughts clear. When she'd deflected the question, he'd scoffed and looked away, disgusted in her.
For once, she couldn't criticise him. She felt rather disgusted in her cowardice, too. A better friend, perhaps a friend like Weiss Schnee apparently was, would have used their influence to help him. She had, enlisting her solicitors to handle his insurance and even offering him business advice.
A far cry from how Pyrrha had first seen the girl – as a power-hungry vulture seeking to add her fame to her family name and form a team solely to boost her influence. Pyrrha could admit it hadn't been the best of first impressions, but she'd been so certain of it and well, Weiss' words had hardly left much to the imagination. It was why she'd avoided the girl and her team and chosen to leave her partnership to fate instead, finding Russel.
And yet here Weiss was, helping Jaune out of the kindness of her heart, alongside her teammates, while Pyrrha held back and remained silent, reaping the benefits of their friendship but offering nothing in return. It was vexing, incredibly so. But did she dare break the status quo? Did she have to? It was just one poor day for Jaune, nothing too serious…
"I'll think about it," she whispered, though even as she did her eyes closed and she bit back on her disappointment, knowing she wouldn't, knowing that deep inside she'd already made up her mind and that the words were nothing more than lip service.
She couldn't do it.
She just couldn't.
/-/
Junior was waiting for him outside the room when Roman stepped out, patting himself down to remove all the dust kicked off from the brick. A bit of it had gotten in his throat and left it itchy, so he nodded his thanks when Junior offered him a drink. It wasn't one of Jaune's, but the peach-flavoured cocktail hit the spot well enough.
"Ah, thanks."
"So, you find anything?"
"Oh, I found a few things, certainly." Roman lit a cigar and took a puff. "He wouldn't talk at first. You know the type, fancies themselves `hard`, whatever that means."
"They all talk in the end."
"Sure do. Our friend here became fairly talkative but I get the feeling he doesn't know much. Just does what he's paid and without much thought for anything up here." He tapped his head. "Either way, I got a lead or two and I'll follow through."
"Prime?" Junior asked.
Roman raised an eyebrow. "You think they're behind it? They're a coffee chain."
"It's corporate," Junior protested, a little embarrassed to have been caught. "Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. They cost me big today and I'd have liked an excuse to pay 'em back."
Roman chuckled. "Well, I didn't get their name but it's not to say it couldn't be. Our friend here was paid by someone in his gang."
"A gang?" Junior stood a little taller. "On my turf?"
"Not a proper one, just a bunch of idiots calling themselves one and causing trouble. If I want to find out who ordered the hit, I'll need to find out from the leader of it." And that would be a pain, all in itself. Not difficult, but time-consuming. Roman sighed around his cigar, pinching the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb.
"Cinder got you working hard?"
"When does she not? Still, I'll see this done, if only to get back the kid's sword."
"You know, I could lend you the twins if you want them. Wouldn't be hard to convince them to join in and it would save you some time. It doesn't sound like a particularly hard job."
Roman looked up, surprised by the offer. "How much are you charging?"
"Call it a favour."
"I don't do favours, Junior."
"I mean a favour from me," the barman replied, chuckling. "It's on the house."
"Generous. Again, surprisingly so." Roman cracked a smile. "You're really hoping it'll be those people who upset you, aren't you? You genuinely want to run a café into the ground."
Junior flushed but didn't bother to deny it. To be fair, the man's club had been empty when Roman arrived. Considering how much it cost to hire so many goons, provide drinks, music and also all the other costs involved, a single night without customers could cost a lot of money. Add into that the annoyance of someone paying off his men, moving onto his turf and hurting his source of Grade-caffeine?
Yeah, he'd be pissed too.
"Is the kid still alive in there?" Junior nodded behind him.
"Yeah, he's still alive, I-" Roman blinked. "Wait, where's Neo?"
The door behind them opened and Neo sauntered out, a satisfied smile on her face as she dusted her hands together and strolled up to stand next to him. She looked up at Roman and smiled the most indulgent smile he'd ever seen, looking for all the world like the cat that had not just eaten the canary, but framed the dog, faked the canary's will and now stood to inherit millions.
Roman sighed and looked back to Junior.
"I think I'd like to change my answer."
Oh Roman and Neo, you two~
Well, this chapter was a little… different to what I've normally written for SWS. Darker for sure. Coffee, slice of life, service – TORTURE. I don't know, maybe it's that anime trope thing with "Smile, sweet, sister, sadistic" thing.
"Service – smile – surprise – sadistic – torture – murder (Neo smiling) – service – smile!"
Oh, and Pyrrha is dealing with her own inner demons now, along with her complicated relationship with Russel and the students of Beacon. More on that (and Team RWBY) to come, but this chapter was focused more on Jaune, Café Prime, and the investigation into his missing sword. And Olly Firs - Olly Murs. If RT want to do celebrities by replacing names with trees (Spruce Willis), then who am I to disagree? lol.
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur