Crimson Immoderation Part 20: Black and White 1

“Hello?”

“Vlad, I need your help.”

Weiss sounds frazzled, on edge. I look at Roma whom I'm currently walking through Vale with. She's doing her best to look inconspicuous. Far less flamboyantly dressed than her usual fashion, something she isn't happy about, but is more than used to going for incognito. Drab trousers and a tanktop with a jacket over it, hair pulled back into a tiny tail since it isn't very long, some makeup to change the shape of her face. I on the other hand have a lot of hair, so I'm hiding most of it in a fancy (but not too fancy) hat.

Don't get much call to wear nice hats when you have a luxurious mane of beautiful hair. It's a nice change of pace, if a little uncomfortable.

Tonight's the night for the heist. The shipment came in yesterday, the freight containers finished moving onto the docks today. We've been wandering near the area, watching to see if there have been any unexpected changes we'll need to be aware of for the plan. And if Weiss is calling that means... “What's up?”

“I... I had a fight with Blake.”

“What happened?”

“We–“ She stops, hard. She just decided not to tell me everything. “We got into an argument about something. Something important. And then she left and we haven't seen her since last night. I'm worried.”

Nailed it. I'll be honest, it's surprising that this still happened. It was one of the things I expected would be butterflied away. But instead, here we are. I guess I didn't really interact with Blake in any way that would change this. “Alright, what can I do to help?”

“Could you come help us look for her in the city?”

“Hmmm, I'm in Vale right now. Do you want me to meet up with you?”

“No!” she says suddenly, continuing quieter, “I mean no, we're, we're splitting up now anyway. To cover more ground. So there's no point.”

It's nice to know that at least here Weiss does feel bad about what happened, she just doesn't feel comfortable saying so to her team. “Alright, I'll keep an eye out for a stray cat.”

“How–?!” she sputters, “How do you know that?! How did everyone know that but us?!”

“You do know Father trained me in reading body language, right? Notice the little things?” I ask. “Her bow moves when she's agitated. Remember when I got into an argument with her? Her bow flattened down. I've never seen someone able to move their scalp as a reaction so stands to reason there are ears under there.”

“I–! You–! Argh! Why didn't you tell me?!”

I shrug, though she can't see it. “She wanted to keep it secret, not my business.” And not Weiss' either if Blake didn't tell her, but I opt not to say that part. That way lies a pointless argument about how I should violate other people's privacy because she's my girlfriend or some crap like that.

“Just– Just call me if you see her.”

There's a beep as she hangs up on her end. I shrug again and put my scroll away.

“Trouble in paradise?” Roma asks with a smirk. Even trying to be inconspicuous it seems she can turn off her attitude as she swaggers down the street next to me.

“Our plan just got a whole lot easier,” I inform her, “Though potentially more complicated if things go badly.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows go up. “Don't tell me your little princess is getting involved. The wildlings'll go rabid if they see a Schnee. That doesn't sound easier to me.”

“Good gods your animal jokes would be getting tiresome even if I thought they were funny,” I lament with a sigh. “No, I don't think she'll show. But I can near guarantee someone else will. We won't be dealing with a cops versus White Fang bloodbath, but there's a chance more of the Fang will end up surviving the end of this.”

“Eh, that's fine,” Roma waves off my concern, “We'd have to deal with some of that anyway. Neo'll get a chance to have fun during the cleanup.”

Wish I had her confidence. It'd be nice if I thought this could go that perfectly.

“So... What's the deal with you and her, anyway?”

“With Neo?” I ask. “I'm surprised you need to ask. Isn't she your... I don't know. Partner? Lover? Better half?”

“More like better third,” the redhead answers airily, looking amused. “You know, because she's small.”

“No one ever taught you not to explain your jokes, did they?”

“She'd call herself 'fun-size',” Roma continues, ignoring me. “Well, I guess she wouldn't. Because of the not talking thing.”

… She's doing it to annoy me. Just ignore it.

“Ahhh, no fun,” she whines when I don't rise to her bait. “But no, the most I get out of her on the subject of her new fascination with you is her miming giving a blowjob. Then she gets a dreamy look on her face and wanders off, I assume to go find you.”

… Huh. “You know, now that you've said that, that pretty much encapsulates our entire relationship,” I admit. “Our every interaction seems to be centred around whether I'll let her suck me off at that particular moment. Not that I think there's anything particularly wrong with that, mind you. She's my happy little cumslut and I'm her dispenser.”

“Wow, I don't even know whether I want to beat your ass for that,” she muses aloud, hands fidgeting to twirl a cane that isn't there. “Well, my little psychopath partner in crime knows how to handle herself so I'll save you the dire warnings. You've known her long enough to know what'll happen if you cross her. She'll do far worse than anything I could do.”

“I think you're reading a touch too much into it,” I shrug. “You're talking like there's anything particularly intimate about it. She wants something from me, I want something from her, the latter leads to the former so we've got a mutually beneficial arrangement going. There isn't anything more to it than that.”

She hums in the back of her throat. “I guess you're right. And knowing her I guess there really couldn't be anything more than that. Hell, me and her are barely more than that. Eh, do whatever then.” She lets that be the end of the conversation for a good half minute... “Is it really that good though? It can't be. I know Neo's tastes and I know cum, there's no way it's that good.“

“It is absolutely that good. Or so I've been told.”

She gives me a sidelong look. “Uh-huh. And you've never tried it yourself, even out of curiosity.”

“Nope. Not my fetish.”

“Bet you have them suck you clean after fucking them though, don't you.”

“Sometimes. Why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Men.” Taking one last sideways look at the port region where things seem to be dying down, she nods to herself. “Looks like there'll be no last minute surprises from their end. All that's left to do is wait until the right time and then release the hounds. And ferrets. And iguanas. And–“

“I get it, you're a very witty racist. Get back to the warehouse. My team and I will set up here.”

“Wow, talking like you're in charge of the big bad bitch,” Roma notes with interest, “Well isn't that something.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

She pulls out a cigar. Fuck I really didn't think through genderbending her. I forgot I liked Roman because he was fun to hate. “Honey, when it comes to whether you're a better boss than Cinder?” She lights and takes a slow, exaggerated puff. “That's a low bar to clear.”

-(-)-

Head in her folded arms, leaning on the ledge of a building, Emerald lets out a frustrated sigh. “I hate stakeouts.”

“Weren't you a thief before all of this?” I ask, scanning through my cards and dropping a pair of threes on the pile. “I would've thought you were used to this kind of thing by now.”

“Being used to it and enjoying it are two very different things,” she retorts, slumping even lower. “Besides, I was a little more spontaneous when it came to that kind of thing. Go into a store, mind-whammy the clerk, snatch the goods, get out. All this waiting around was just a waste of time. Do we have anything to eat?” she asks, looking over her shoulder.

Neo gasps, hugging the container in her lap like it's her own child. The contents look like but are only mostly pudding.

“... You know, now that you've started putting it into other things I'm starting to realise your fixation is pretty gross.” Even though she says that, she doesn't seem to even try to hide her interest. “Can I have some?”

Neo spins on her butt, hiding the container away from greedy, (figuratively) green-eyed, (literally) green-haired monster.

“Neo, it's your turn,” I remind her.

She absently tosses two fives on the pile then goes right back to protecting her baby, taking furtive spoonfuls of it.

“There are snacks in the bag, little gem,” Cinder reminds her. As her chocolate-skinned servant goes foraging for sustenance, the golden-eyed woman returns her attention to me. “So, once this operation is dealt with, what's our next step?”

“Hm,” I grunt. “Assuming everything goes as we hope? We get what we need from Auburn, then we remove her. From then on... Well, our only immediate problem is that arm of yours.”

“I fail to see how this is an immediate problem,” Cinder smiles, examining it. Even if she knows it's intended to keep her as a pawn of Salem, it's still power she has control over. Of course she still likes it. “We are no closer to retrieving another maiden. Until that happens I fail to see why we wouldn't treat this as simply another problem-solving tool.”

I forget the game so completely the hand holding my cards drops. Neo doesn't hide taking a good look at them, not that I especially care about that at this moment. “I never told you, did I?” I realise aloud. “Of course I didn't. You wouldn't have believed me.”

Cinder's eyes narrow. “Told me what?”

“The Grimm in your arm, its ability is to drain the life out of people, isn't it?” I ask.

“Of course. That was how I was able to steal half of that maiden's powers.”

I'm surprised she hasn't already picked up what I'm putting down. “Its power is to drain the life out of people,” I repeat. “As its host, did you were somehow immune to that?” Emerald's rustling stops, Cinder's cards drop from numb fingers. Neo gleefully continues shovelling cum pudding into her mouth. “It is a Grimm parasite after all.”

“Are you...?” she starts to ask with a suspicious tone. “No, you're lying to me.”

“Cinder, why would I lie at this point?” I ask. “We're on a rooftop, overlooking the place where most of your operation will be dismantled. By tomorrow morning, most of your mooks will be dead. You're already in too deep with me to go back on it unless you want to just cut your losses and beg Salem for forgiveness. Lying to you about this would get me absolutely nothing.”

“It would let you take away my power!” she snaps back at me,

“Which I could have done the night our team was formed,” I retort, reminding her I could easily have purged that thing from her hand the very first time she touched me with it. “Put it into context, Cinder. I knew all along that it was there. But I didn't purge it then because I wanted you to work with me. To work for me. I already told you what Salem had planned for you. She wanted you to get a maiden's power. Hell, I bet after this one she would have sent you after another, gathering all of them while you still qualify as human enough to use them. And then one day the parasite would have eaten away at enough of you to be fully in control, or as in control as it could be as Salem's puppet. That was the end Salem planned for you. Not her queen piece, not her pawn, but her harvesting tool.”

As I speak, the harshness, the wry derision of Cinder's expression I've gotten used to over the past weeks slides away. Replaced by a surprising amount of fear and vulnerability. “How long... Until...?”

The timeline of the show was screwy but, “By the end of the Vytal Festival, it will have replaced your left arm.” Before I even finish the sentence I rear back as a hand is shoved in my face.

“Get it out. Get it out of me!” she demands fiercely.

Uhh... Ah... ”That's not the best idea right now–“

“I will not be weak! I will not be someone else's puppet!” she insists, her hand pushing forward again. “Get rid of it!”

“If I purge it right now,” I ask patiently, “What happens to Amber?” Cinder blinks, as though she forgot all about her, which might well be the case. “If this half of the maiden power is released, it will more than likely go back to her. Would she then recover? And if so... What is the first thing Ozpin will ask her?”

I don't actually know whether Amber would recover from that, but the truth is, neither does Cinder. And she's just realising that it very well could happen with magic involved. “Damn it,” she says, voice bleeding frustration. “Damn it! I just wanted to be strong for once in my life! To be the one in control!”

I stand and take her other hand and by Blob is this a weird circumstance that I'm comforting a distraught Cinder Fall. “This is what we'll do next,” I promise her. “We'll figure out Amber, we'll get this thing out of your hand, and then we'll go from there.”

She wears a frustrated grimace, not looking at me. “I'll hold you to that, Mister Dracul.”

If I hadn't gotten to know her over the past weeks, I might have been worried at the sudden formality. But the change has less to do with me than it does with her. She herself said it. She wants to be in control, something she is very much not right now. Enforcing distance, formality, it's her trying to claw back just a little of that feeling of control.

So... Now I just need to figure out how magic soul healing works and whether it would be an expected outcome. And make it an expected outcome if I want real magic. And also somehow get that to jive with Cinder trying to kill Amber that one time and yet somehow both of them happily in a relationship with me and popping out kids.

Simple. Tomorrow's problem though.

Today's problem is framing, sabotaging and assassinating the vast majority of a terrorist cell with the help of some teenage superheroines and a robot. Who is also a teenaged superheroine somehow.

Oh how I long for those halcyon days when my only concern would be which of my eager lovers to slake my lusts on. Or what not so nefarious scheme would land Cinder in the punishment harness that day.

“Someone's here,” Emerald informs us, back looking over the ledge with a big of little chicken meat bite things. Wonder if we have more of those...

Focus.

Looking out over the freight storage area I don't see any sign of the White Fang yet. Good. If they were something went wrong. They aren't due for another hour.

“North roof,” Emerald calls out for me.

Ah. “Well, it's the company I expected,” I tell the others.

“So she was a cat faunus?” Emerald asks. “Huh. Never would have guessed.”

“Feel free to tell Weiss that. It'll make her feel better. She was also a part of this White Fang cell until she realised how murder happy they are.”

“Oh, she's that Blake?” Emerald asks, surprised. “Yeah, their boss kept ranting about someone named Blake and how she was going to make her... Suffer...” Her head turns to look at me with narrowed eyes. “You don't want this girl to die, right? Are you sure it's a good idea to let her go up against these guys?”

“Pfft, please. The only one of them that's even dangerous is... Uhh...” I turn to Cinder. “What was the Lieutenant's name again?”

Cinder moves up next to us with a sigh, trying to get her head back in the game. “I neither know nor care. Quite honestly I get by just calling him Lieutenant.”

“Right... Well, he's the only dangerous one and with two on one they can handle him until more backup arrive.”

…

And now we have to wait quietly for the White Fang to arrive. “There any more of those chicken bites?”

“Last bag.”

Damn.

A hunger-inducing hour later, the low hum of approaching airship engines draws our attention. “Neo,” Cinder orders. Suddenly we're covered by a box structure that blends into the rooftop, just enough space for us to see out of. We're mostly here to observe but with members of Team RWBY involved in this I want to be able to intervene if things somehow go south.

We watch as three bullheads circle around the docks, one of them coming in for a landing in the freight storage area. Oh, make that four bullheaaaaaa– That's not a bullhead. “Did they bring a gunship?! Why did they bring a gunship?!”