Chapter 11: Not Exactly A Shopping Montage

Was it all just a dream? Or maybe a vision? …You know, I get the feeling that I've used this intro before. But, I really don't care. I'm just a sucker for The Vision of Escaflowne. Not so much the Escaflowne movie, but I'm willing to appreciate it's animation quality and soundtrack. Anyway, let's get back to talking about RWBY. More specifically, the story I'm writing about it. Go ahead and read it. I'll be waiting at the bottom of the page.

xxx

That Saturday morning, Roman Torchwick was frustrated beyond belief. Plain and simple.

After getting word from the street that the bomb maker he hired had gotten in a wreck and arrested by the cops, he had been in a rush to somehow find a way to fill in the gap. Really, Roman's only options were to either hire another bomb maker, or build a bomb himself. Neither of them were the best option, for a few reasons. He couldn't find a good bomb maker on such short notice, and the best thing Roman knew how to build resembling a bomb was something that would at most blow open a wall. He couldn't make anything big enough that the Shithead Squad would accept.

If he wasn't wearing his excellent hat right now, Roman would be ripping out his finely treated hair. He stared at his office desk in bitter anger as he thought. "How the hell am I supposed to deal with this shit?! Ms. Fussy-bitches and her asshole kids are going to be back any minute! Oh, I knew I should have gone out of town to hire someone…"

The door to Roman's office opened. Looking up, he sighed a little with relief. It wasn't Lady Fire Wench and the Shit Eating Fun Club. It was only his pint-sized partner, Neo. As per her usual tradition, she had come into the office that morning for her early day bowl of ice cream. It was one of the more important ice cream bowls of the day. Hanging her parasol on the nearby coatrack, she skipped passed the slouching Roman and to the mini-fridge in the corner.

"Hello to you too," Roman snarked at Neo. Looking out of the corner of his vision, he saw Neo simply shrug in response. To be fair, she couldn't even say hello, anyway. "Eating your daily food groups?" he sneered.

Neo ignored him as she scooped generous helpings of pistachio ice cream into a spare plastic container. With a smile on her face, she plopped down into the chair across from Roman's desk. Eagerly, she began to shovel spoonful after spoonful of delicious dairy treat into her mouth. She could feel Roman stare at her, but she didn't care. She had a nice day planned out today: eating ice cream and using Roman's office computer to look up things that would probably get him on some sort of watch list. Well, if the internet connection was faster than 3 baud today. For someone who stole and fenced a lot of valuable stuff, Roman sure didn't spring for a decent internet service for his hideout.

Roman didn't know how Neo could stay so serene. How was she not completely pissed off at the annoying assholes who kept on kicking the tow of them around dumbfounded him. Hell, maybe she had an idea on what to do. She sure was calmer than him.

"Hey, Dairy Queen. Answer me something," Roman suddenly said.

Hearing that nickname made Neo look up from her breakfast. "…?"

"You wouldn't happen to know how to build a big bomb, would you?" asked Roman.

Neo tapped her chin in exaggerated thought. Then, with a shake of her head, she went back to eating her ice cream.

"Figures…" Roman mumbled. Roman scratched the back of his head. Just what the hell could he do? Maybe he could just by an already made bomb. Yet again, in his experience, that was always a 50/50 gamble. Maybe someone added an extra pinch of the wrong chemical, or set the detonator off by a few seconds. Buying a bomb from an arms dealer was about as reliable as a lawyer couldn't get your harpy of an ex to stop pressing you for child support for a kid that wasn't even yours. In short, not very.

"Meh. Fuck it. If I'm lucky, the bomb'll blow up Captain Bitchface and those fuckhead kids," Roman decided in his mind. He was getting paid for the job to get done, not for it to be done well. As long as they didn't notice, then he was more or less free to do whatever the hell he wanted with his objectives.

Standing up, Roman walked over to the coatrack to grab his hung-up cane. "C'mon, Neo. We're going shopping," he announced.

"…?" he heard Neo ask.

"Yeah, sure, we can get some on the way. Now come on," said Roman.

Excitedly, Neo scarfed down the remaining ice cream in her bowl. Roman watched on, amazed. How could she possibly eat ice cream that quickly without getting a brain freeze? It was like one of the mysteries of the universe. Well, Neo did eat a lot of ice cream, so maybe she just built up a tolerance to it. Or, she did get brain freeze, and she was a good enough of an actor to hide it. All of this simply baffled Roman.

Neo got out of her chair and happily skipped over to the door, grabbing her parasol off of the coatrack on the way. Standing in front of Roman, she looked incredibly excited to be going shopping. Most likely because Roman promised her ice cream. Smiling, she gave Roman a small, quick hug.

Roman grew stiff when Neo hugged him. "Yeah, yeah… Let's just go…" he mumbled. He just couldn't handle how cute Neo could be some times. Sure, she was a bloodthirsty would-be murderer and thief, but damn, she was adorable. She was like a person sized porcelain figurine.

Twirling his cane, Roman walked beside Neo out of the warehouse. But, just as he was about to walk out to the parking lot, he remembered that the White Fang members that worked here were fucking incompetent.

"Perry!" Roman called out. At least that one Faunus was less idiotic than the others. And, he actually knew how to make a cup of coffee without grounds in it. That made Perry his unofficial third in command.

A man in a White Fang uniform with glasses over his mask jogged up to Roman. "Yes sir?" he asked.

"I'm going out for a bit," Roman said. "Make sure your furry friends don't blow the joint up, okay?"

Perry nodded. "Right."

As Roman and Neo waked away, Roman called over his shoulder, "And be sure to pick up some food! I'm in the mood for pizza today!"

"R-right!" complied Perry.

As Neo and Roman left the warehouse area, Perry groaned to himself. Why did Roman ask for pizza? Now he'd have to get all different kinds, just to make everyone happy. He knew well enough that some of his brothers and sisters in arms were carnivores, vegetarians, or omnivores. Maybe he could ask Roman for a ride to the closest pizza joint—

Nope, Roman's car just drove past the window. Sighing, Perry walked over to where the rest of his squad mates were hanging around. Right now, they were all listening to the rather beefy Lieutenant about how he would kill a Schnee, given the chance.

"-He'd be nothing but a pile of meat on the floor when I'm done," the Lieutenant growled. Then, noticing Perry walk up, he questioned, "What do you want?"

"I'm, uh, going to get pizza. What do you all w-want?" Perry stuttered.

"Garlic and spinach."

"Chicken with white sauce."

"Bacon, sausage, and pepperoni."

"Olives. Nothing but olives."

"Pineapple with teriyaki beef."

The Lieutenant was the last to respond. "Whatever, I'm not hungry."

Perry tried his best to memorize the order list. "Okay… anyone want to lend me some cash?"

That didn't get a response from anybody.

"Right…" Perry grumbled as he turned and left the group. For an order that big, it'd probably take a while. At least it was early enough to avoid the lunch rush.

As he walked over to his bicycle, Perry took off his glasses and removed his mask. Then, replacing his glasses, he shoved the white mask in his pocket. He wouldn't want to be caught that easily.

Perry undid the lock on his bike. Man, it was going to be tricky to fit all of those pizzas on the back. Oh well, at least this was a way easier job than what some of the other White Fang members had. Anything was better than being stuck in the Grimm Wilds, guarding a place nobody would ever find. Or, going to local malls to recruit more members. The last thing he heard about that, some guys got tortured for not recruiting anybody in a week. Being the designated gofer for this group wasn't all that bad.

Sighing, Perry pedaled off, heading away from the warehouse and down the street.

xxx

The town car pulled up to a… respectable place of business. A totally legitimate business. Certainly not one that sold weapons and information out of the back. It was just a nightclub, plain and simple. One that just happened to be run by a man who had connections in Vale City's underground network. Hei "Junior" Xiong was the man to go to if you wanted only the finest weapons, enforcers, and blackmail materials… at a price, of course.

Roman and Neo climbed out of the car and strolled towards the entrance. Not even looking in the direction of the valet, Roman tossed his keys at him and said, "Not a scratch, pretty boy."

He didn't wait for an answer as he and Neo walked into the club. Currently, it wasn't open for business. Well, not the legal kind, anyway. For the black market, the club never really closed. After all, what kind of nightclub is open for the day? It goes against what kind of club it is.

Striding up to the bar, Roman and Neo sat in the stools. For Neo, it was a little harder to do. Her (lack) of height was making it rather hard to get on it. But, after a minute of determined climbing, she managed to get onto the seat, and tried to ignore the undignified scenario that just occurred.

Junior recognized his frequent customers right away. Sure, he wasn't the biggest fan of the well-dressed thief, but he paid in good, hard lien. "Anything to drink?" the large, well-dressed man said, pushing up his red sunglasses.

"Nah, I'm on the clock today. I'm just interested in shopping," Roman said with a calm wave of his hand.

Junior looked over the top of his shades. "For what, exactly?"

"Candy," sneered Roman. "Or… something a bit more useful."

"…I'm not letting you hire any more of my men," Junior immediately said. The last time he let Roman use some of his enforcers, ALL of them came back with horrible injuries. And even then, they still had a bad chance of being beaten up here in the club, whether it be from angry drunks, or chesty blonde girls trying to look for info. Because of that, his current employee rental service was on hold.

"As if I'd hire those wastes of skin again…" Roman noted.

Junior furrowed his brow at the insult. "…Looks like my services just went up forty percent."

"Tsk tsk. Neo?" Roman said, gesturing to his partner.

Neo immediately understood what Roman wanted done. She too was thinking of it herself. With one smooth motion, she unhooked the latch on her parasol, and drew her long stiletto. She pointed it at Junior's throat with a sick grin. Maybe she would get her fix for blood after all.

Naturally, Junior's men sprang to his defense. The two men stocking the bottles drew shotguns from under the bar counter, the DJ over at the mixing booth pulled out a rocket launcher, the janitor mopping the floor pulled a massive assault rifle with an underslung flamethrower out of his cleaning cart, and Junior's personal guards, the Malachite twins, dove out of nowhere, ready to fight the offending Roman and Neo.

The red clad twin, Miltia, pointed her clawed gauntlets at the back of Roman's head. "Like, call her off," she ordered.

The white dressed twin, Melanie, took a crane kick stance and got ready to kick with her bladed heels. "Listen, guy."

Roman didn't let the excessive amount of weapons pointed at him intimate him. "Ten percent," he calmly offered.

"Thirty five," counter-offered Junior.

"Twenty," was Roman's response.

"Thirty. You can leave with less money or your life," was Junior's final offer.

"…Deal," Roman agreed. At that, Junior nodded, and immediately everyone on Junior's payroll lowered their weapons. On his side, Roman made Neo lower and put away her blade. She couldn't help but pout as she did, though. She wanted her blood and pain, damn it!

"I'm glad we could come to terms," Junior dryly remarked. With a nod of his head, he said, "Come to the back."

Roman and Neo slid out of their seats, and followed Junior behind a nearby door. The three of them passed through the general storage area, until they entered the liquor storage room. With a memorized motion, Junior pressed three hidden buttons behind a large wine rack. With a pop and a click, the rack swung on it's hidden hinges to reveal a secret door. Junior then took out a ring of key cards out of his pocket and stuck one into the card scanner near the door handle. The light on the scanner flashed green, and the door clicked open.

Roman, Neo, and Junior entered a room that could be easily described as a gun-nut's wet dream. There was every type of conceivable weapon stored in there. Rifled lightning casters. Quad-barreled shotguns. Revolvers that shoot pure crystals of dust. If you could imagine it, you could find it. And buy it, for the right price.

Neo's jaw dropped. She had never been in here before! Immediately, like a kid in a candy store, she dashed over to one of the display tables and began to browse the bladed weapon selection. Well, not exactly. More like a height challenged sadist making a visit to a weapon dealer. But the point remained the same.

As Neo gushed over the double tomahawk that caught her eye, Roman began to tell Junior what he was interested in. "I'm looking for a bomb. Probably the biggest one you have, preferably," he said breezily.

Junior scratched his beard. "Well, the blocks of plastic explosive are over there," he said, pointing to a stack of crates in the corner, "…But I'm not sure that's up your alley."

"Well, would you have one that's already assembled?" Roman inquired.

"Hmmm… well, not exactly…" mused Junior. "…But I can sell you the parts."

"Parts?" Roman parroted.

"Yeah. It'll come with assembly instructions and everything," Junior explained.

"…Tell me more," Roman said, interested.

With a smirk, Junior led Roman over to a steel case. Opening it, he showed his potential buyer the necessary parts and tools. "It's pretty easy. The detonators and timers are already included, and all you need to do is put together the case and wiring. Easy as that."

Roman traced his finger over the brim of his hat and smiled. "I'm liking it. You got enough for five?" he asked.

"More than enough," was Junior's response.

"I'll take it!" Roman declared before devolving into a fit of sinister laughter. Everything had gone his way! "Hahahahahahaha—huh?" Roman was cut off by a tug at his sleeve. With the most adorable grin, Neo waved around the double tomahawk, clearly pleading for him to buy it for her.

"Fine," Roman sighed, the wind taken out of his sails. "We'll take that, too."

Junior pushed up his shades by the bridge and offered out his hand. Taking it, Roman firmly shook. Their deal was now finalized, an agreement between gentlemen.

Roman finally had the bombs he needed (and a double tomahawk to boot).

xxx

So, now the real threat is kicked off. All it is now is a matter of time. But, can our heroes stop the White Fang in time? Can they save the city? And can they find the cure for boneitis? Find out at least two of three of these answers in the continuing adventures in: You're Under Arrest!

And this has been your helpful narrator, The Draigg, and I'm signing off for now!