Silent Knights [RWBY/GTAIII]

[1] A voice gone Silent

Claude's shotgun kicked as he blew the security camera off it's ceiling mount, quickly following his cohorts to the dark street where the getaway car had been stashed. Pumping the shotgun again as he turned a corner, his eyes widened. Catalina stood there twin revolvers in hand, aimed point blank at him. "Sorry babe, but I'm an ambitious girl. And you? Your just-" The thunder of a gunshot rang throughout the night as she pulled the trigger, Claude falling to the floor. "-small time."

His vision fading, Claude activated his aura in haste. He felt the warmth of the rain trickling down his throat. At least, he told himself it was rain. He couldn't see now, and the ringing in his ears was enough to drown out most noises of the night, but he could make out the vague sounds of sirens now. They got closer, and closer, and then stopped. Then there was a thud, followed by a near inaudible; "This guy's still alive!"

Then Claude's aura caved, and the blackness of unconsciousness took him away.

________________________

"It ripped a hole in his windpipe, officer. It also hit his larynx. He'll never speak again. He'll be healed up in a couple weeks, and then he'll be turned over."

Officer Charles Martin nodded, thanking the nurse. His dull green eyes peering through the glass of the operating room, watching the surgeons surrounding Claude's unconscious body. He tipped his brown stetson. "Thank ya nurse. It'll be a pleasure finally puttin' him away."

Making his way out of the hospital, Martin pulled out a scroll and dialed a number. It rang once, then twice, and a third time before a click was heard.
"I got another one for you. I'll stick him with Neo and 8-Ball in an escort to Portland." Another click was heard as the other end of the line hung up.
Martin crushed the scroll, and threw it into the inner pocket of his coat.
"Salvatore better know what he's doing...."
____________________________

Portland, Liberty City.
October 15th, 2001.

Claude was silent as he eyed the officer seated across from him in an armored truck made for prisoner transportation, a dangerous glint making itself known. The officer laughed, nudging an old oriental gentleman next to him and pointing to Claude as he did so. "What's wrong scumbag, kitty got your tongue?"

Claude growled, desperate to form together the sounds of a vocal threat, yet nothing arose. The man to his right, a tall African man with bandaged hands, spoke up. "I'd leave this one alone. Something tells me he isn't one to be messed with."

"Shut the fuck up darkie. Soon all three of ya will be locked up in the Portland Prison."

The girl to Claude's left, a pale woman with hair split down the middle in shades of pink and brown, rolled her eyes, smirking at the officer.
The armored truck swerved and crashed, sending everyone inside lurching forward. A rather chubby Columbian man tore the back doors of the truck open, aiming his gun at the police officer as another Columbian snatched the eldery gentleman out of the truck, leading him back to a Jeep at gunpoint.

"Ight, ight." The first Columbian began; "Get lost."

Claude jumped out of the truck and the officer whipped back in surprise, only to receive two fists to the throat and a boot to the face as he hit the concrete street of Callahan Bridge.
Grabbing the officers gun, Claude checked the drivers seat only to find the driver dead at the wheel. He signalled for 8-Ball and the girl to follow him to a nearby Kuruma. Jumping into the passenger seat, 8-Ball nudged Claude. "I know a place on the edge of the Red Light District where we can lay low. But my hands are all messed up, so you better drive brother."

And as the girl closed the rear passenger door, the three of them sped off into Portland.

8-Ball perked up again, this time peeking into the back seat. "Neo, how you been girl?" Silence. "Yeah I hear you. You got the records I asked for?"
The girl grabbed a thin folder hidden in her left sleeve, passing it to 8-Ball who opened it and took a peak inside.
"Claude, last name redacted, born in San Andreas. Wanted for one murder, twelve counts of grand theft auto, four counts of burglary, and....ties with the Leone crime family? Quite the portfolio my friend. Pull into this place right here and we'll get a change of clothes. Afterwords we'll take you to Luigi's club.

Pulling in and turning the car off, the three headed in.
__________________________
Vale.
October 15th, 2001.

Roman Torchwick wiped his brow as the hovercraft descended onto the roof of his hideout. Cinder glaring at him as he did so.

"You couldn't keep up with a child. So tell me Roman, if that little girl, nevermind the huntress, had beaten you, how would Salvatore have reacted?"

Roman growled, pointing his cane at the young woman. "SALVATORE, not YOU, would have seen what the problem was. Not only was there a huntress backing her, but the girl was obviously trained. Fuck, now I see why Cipriani refuses to work with you."

Cinder smirked. "Cipriani IS working with me, whether he realizes it or not. His faunus heritage has led to some strong ties between the Leone family and the White Fang. Soon enough we'll have them on our side as well. You haven't provided anything nearly as significant."

"Just remember, if it wasn't for ME, Salvatore wouldn't have accepted your offer in the first place."

_______________________________

As Claude pulled into Luigi's club, 8-Ball and Neo jumped out, with 8-Ball knocking on the back entrance. A tall and thin man opened the door, narrowing his eye's at Claude.
"Neo, 8-Ball...?"

"Claude." 8-Ball answered as he handed Luigi Claude's police file. "Read this. Says he's got ties to the family. Any idea Luigi?"

"No one I've ever seen. I'll ask Salvatore tomorrow. And you, kid-"
Luigi boomed, pointing at Claude.
"-I got a girl out front of the Portland Hospital. Go pick her up for me and take her to Joey Leone over by Atlantic Quays. Remember, this is your foot in the door! So keep your eyes on the road, and off Misty!"