Professor Arc

Chapter 25

There was something very wrong with the current situation, Jaune couldn't help but feel as he walked through the bustling warehouse. Maybe it was the fact that the young man, who was currently dressed in casual clothing with a black suit hanging over one shoulder, was walking around a dockside warehouse in the first place. Maybe it was the way the building was a hive of activity, crates and containers being shipped left and right despite the building's derelict nature.

Or maybe it was the fully uniformed international terrorists wandering around working, playing cards or otherwise chatting and laughing away – in broad daylight.

Who could tell?

The worst part was how a few would nod or whisper small greetings to him, casual 'mornings' or 'hey' as he walked by... the fact that they recognised him was bad enough. The fact that he was apparently recurring sight enough to be considered normal in a criminal warehouse was much worse.

So much for being the hero of Vale...

He heard Roman before he saw him, as was often the case. The tell-tale tap of his cane on the hard concrete floor, accompanied by the clicking of his heavy shoes. The white-coated man strolled forward with the kind of swagger Jaune was fairly sure he'd fall over if he tried.

"Kid, good to see you – it's been too long. Really, you never call... I'm beginning to think you don't love me."

"I call you almost every day," Jaune's eyes were flat, "You just never answer."

"Huh," the ostentatious thief tapped his chin with one gloved hand, cruel smirk shining through. "I guess that does sound like me. What can I say kid, a man like me has a lot of people wanting to talk to him - rogues, judges and jilted lovers. Nothing you'd know about I'm sure."

He wouldn't rise to the bait... if only because he was aware Roman was on the other end of the line, with a no doubt even more scathing retort. "Well I'm here like you asked me to be, are we finally going to be able to talk now, or do these walls have ears too?"

"Soon enough Jauney-boy, soon enough. What's with the suit?" The cane reached out to tap the clear plastic bag he was holding over one shoulder, the coat hanger gripped in his hand. With a shrug he brought it forward so the other man could see.

"Just my rental for the Beacon Dance tomorrow. I wanted a good excuse to come out into Vale and I needed a suit for it anyway." It was perhaps a testament to the utter shit Jaune had been through lately, that he didn't even flinch when the bag in his hand – and the suit with it – was torn from his hand and thrown into the ocean. "That was a rental... you're paying for it."

"That," Roman Torchwick seemed to shiver, "was a travesty. And trust me you'd have been paying for it tomorrow if anyone saw you wearing it. Oi, Rufus," the blond didn't recognise the name, but simply stood with a quiet sigh as a suited goon ran over. One of Torchwick's own, rather than a White Fang grunt. "Find our friend here a good suit, tux if you can. I'm thinking long tail, white dress shirt." Green eyes regarded him carefully for a moment, glancing up and down his form with a critical edge, "Bow tie... kid looks like he wouldn't know what to do with a cravat."

"Handkerchief?" the goon looked him up and down.

"White," Roman nodded, leaving the man to run off. "You see? This is why I prefer to work with my own men. They at least have their heads screwed on straight."

"Why would I need a handkerchief? I don't have a cold."

The cane slapped into his chest, "It's for your pocket you utter philistine. My God, it's like dealing with a caveman. Don't you worry, since your reputation washes onto me I won't even charge you for the service of making you look like something less of a moron."