Tannum "Cooper" Oakwood
-----
If there ever was a good time to jettison himself from the van, it would be now.
"I still can't believe you did that!" Roman threw a tantrum the whole ride up to Mistral Between. "Of all the stunts you've pulled, that had to be the most idiotic and outrageous one yet!"
Cooper tuned out Roman for the most part.
Ever since they left Lil Miss' pub in Mistral Below, Roman's incessant reprimanding never once stopped during their venture.
The most mindboggling part was Roman's lung capacity. Who'd think he'd be able to yap so much for so long despite his habit of gobbling cigars like candy? At least Neo was quiet as usual, although from time to time, she'd make funny faces at Cooper from the driver's seat.
Just dandy.
Parking the van outside of a market in Mistral Between, Cooper hopped out ready to get to work.
"Alright, make it quick, Stripes." Roman casted doubt from the window. "This informant of yours better be worth it. No funny business either."
"You have nothing to worry about," Cooper thumped his staff on the door, "since I'm not a backstabber like you."
Neo came around and waggled her eyebrows at Cooper while twirling her open parasol.
Guess he's not going alone.
Cooper stretched his legs and indulged in the fresh, mountain air like a proper drink served at the best pubs in Mistral, unlike the cheap stuff they had in Vale.
Brimming with customers and other pedestrians out for a stroll in traditional tunics, robes, and cloaks their ancestors would approve of, the market place was blanketed by the thick, savoury and sweet aromas wafting from the mouth watering finger foods and spices up for grabs.
Cooper snapped out of it and checked the notes of orange and yellows mixing with the purpling sky.
Better hurry before it gets dark.
They navigated their way through the maze of merchant stalls until they reached a less populated area, tucked away and hidden in the furthest corner of the market.
"We're here, darling," Cooper said.
Neo put a finger to her lips and tilted her head at the small shelter made of up wooden planks and orange drapes.
Cooper chuckled and pushed open the door. "Let me do the talking."
A bump on the rump was what he got for that one.
Cooper entered the shop, whistling at the many bottles and drinking glasses of every shape and size lining the shelves, and approached the man seated by the front counter.
A dose of relief soothed his weary bones.
Worn boots kicked up on the counter and face hidden beneath the brim of his black ten-gallon hat, he pulled his thick beard out of his magazine, a faint trail of smoke rising from his cigarette.
"Well, I'll be. . ." His deep drawl resonated throughout the entire room. "Never thought I'd be meeting you again so soon, Tannum."
Cooper shrugged and approached the counter. "Same here, but you know how it is."
"Indeed, I do." He slapped his magazine shut and stood. "And who's your friend?"
Neo playfully bowed.
"That's Neo. She doesn't say much."
"If I knew such a pretty little lady was coming in today, I would've shined this place better than a rich man's leathers." He held his hat over the orange poncho covering his chest. "Pardon me, Miss Neo. The name's Rivers. Roscoe Rivers. Welcome to my humble store of the finest liquors and wines in the mountain west. Holler if you require any assistance."
Neo dramatically swooned and fanned her face.
Same old buckaroo.
"So, I'm guessing there's a certain reason why you're here." Roscoe placed his hat back on that messy hair bun resembling a blend of charcoal and ash. "Because last time I saw you, you took my advice and hitched a boat ride with me to Vale. Less than eager to join the academy, might I add."
Cooper hardened his heart to the horrors that could've happened that night. "I'm sure you heard."
"Unfortunately." The wrinkles around his eyes cut deep. "So, you working again?"
Neo wandered the shop, inspecting the bottles on the shelves.
"Just this once." Cooper sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "What do you know about Old Man Strix?"
The cigarette dropped from his mouth. "What on Remnant have you gotten yourself into?"
"It's a long story and I don't have time to explain." He leaned closer. "Tell me a story about this old man and his fame. Try to stay in his lane. An address would be worthwhile, it's why I came. Maybe I might change my aim and lay claim to some fizzy juice for a drinking game. Oh, the shame."
Roscoe scoffed. "You're such a pain."
Lighting another cigarette and pouring himself a drink, the old buckaroo got talking, and to sum it up, Strix was the worst possible kind of news.
According to the rumours, Strix's comes from a line of inventors and scientists who developed weaponry and tech for Mistral since The Great War, which was a stupidly long time ago.
Strix, being a child genius himself in that department, followed in his parent's footsteps, but unfortunately, both his parents were killed when their research centre was destroyed, leaving him all on his own.
From there, Strix devoted himself to his creations, building whatever monstrosities he could weave together in his twisted mind, and soon after, before the CCT was even built, he formed Clockwork, the oldest and most powerful illegal weapons trading organization in Mistral.
That was until Lil Miss Malachite showed up.
Since then, Clockwork and Spider have been in a constant power struggle for years, always butting heads for full control of the city.
Strix wielded a pair of wings per se, and they were far from normal. They were crafted by his own hands, modified frequently throughout his many trials and errors to not only vanquish his enemies but also terrorize them from above.
As the story goes, anyone unlucky enough to catch the shadow of his wings descending from the sky faced certain doom.
Whoever's daft enough to steal Strix's wings and hand deliver them to Lil Miss would most definitely earn themselves whatever reward they wished, no questions asked, and in Cooper's case, it'd be cutting off the noose around his neck.
Here's the problem with that.
If Lil Miss got her hands on those wings, she'd be able to bend Strix and Clockwork to her will, and the entirety of Mistral would be in the palm of her hands.
"Your chances of finding Strix's wings, let alone swiping them, are pretty slim." Roscoe took a shot. "My guess is that if you are to do it, then your best bet is to wait for the Farmers Festival four months from now. That's when Strix holds his personal auction, the biggest black market sale you'll ever see. Of course, you have to be invited to attend."
Four months. Talk about cutting it close.
Roscoe slid a shot glass across the counter over to Neo, who eagerly threw it down the hatch.
"I'm always invited, mate." Cooper grinned. "You're a lifesaver."
"Anything for my favourite raccoon." He tipped his hat. "Just remember to stop by again once the opportunity presents itself. This old timer will gladly lend an ear to whatever crazy tale you have from Beacon."
"Aye." He tipped his hat back. "Will do."
Leaving Roscoe's shop, Cooper and Neo returned to the van to find their other partner in crime, well, committing crimes.
Drifting from person to person, Roman cackled and picked the pockets of any passersby as if it were open season, and to make matters worse, Neo joined in, scooping whatever trinket caught her eye.
Oh, for the love of. . .
-----
Later on, after Cooper dragged Roman and Neo away before they were caught, they crossed a long, stone bridge passing over a bottomless canyon leading to a more secluded area, just within the borders of the city.
They reached what appeared to be an old shrine about the size of a large cabin sitting close to the end of a cliff. It had a pointed, sloping roof that curved upwards towards the edges, paper screen walls, and a mossy statue of a woman in robes holding a basket.
"Is this the place you were talking about?" Cooper gave it a gander. "Didn't peg either of you for the religious type."
"It used to belong to the Goddess of Fortune, Chihaya, back in the day, but since then, it's been long abandoned." The side of Roman's mouth curled. "Until Neo and I found it way back and made it our emergency hideout."
Neo gave approved huffs.
"Thought you'd be more into the luxury suites and five star hotels." Cooper hopped out the van. "What changed?"
"Normally, I would." Roman got out of the passenger seat. "But we're low on cash. Besides, even if we were loaded, I can't go around showing off this pretty face without someone trying to ruin it. Why do you think I went to Vale?"
No surprise there.
Neo approached the shrine, slipped a lien bill in the statue's basket, and touched her chin with her middle finger before twisting her palm towards the statue.
Whatever luck they can get, right?
They entered the shrine, and Neo pulled a chain hanging from the ceiling, switching on the lights.
Tattered and soiled tatami mats covered the floor of the entrance way and flowed towards the single corridor leading them to the main hall, where many empty shelves on either side of the bare altar collected layers upon layers of dust.
"Ugh." Roman wrinkled his nose. "Has it really been that long since we've been here?
Neo waved a hand in her face.
"We can worry about cleaning later." Cooper rested against the altar and tapped his staff on the mat. "First of all, we need to figure out what we're gonna do until the Farmers Festival."
"Leave that to me, Stripes." He dug into a supply closet. "I'll make sure we do things right and all goes well, because if we follow any of your plans, then it usually means one thing."
Roman leaned back out and slid a finger across his throat while Neo mimicked him.
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Cooper rubbed his tail. "Just as long as we all come out of this in one piece."
"Aha, found it!" Roman sauntered out of the supply closet and spun his cane, Melodic Cudgel around his finger. "It's always good to have a spare."
Rolling his eyes, Cooper filled Roman in on the details, and from there, they hatched a plan.
-----
Leon Alexander Gates
-----
Sitting by the window in the living area of their big ass hotel suite, Alexander saw nothing except for his team.
Things never should've turned out this way.
He was supposed to be with his teammates, the people he finally worked up the courage to call friends, and they all went up in smoke faster than he could enjoy their company. None of them deserved what they got, they were good men, and he would do anything to prevent what happened, even if it meant trading places with them.
Although, wishful thinking and dreams of what could've been were over now.
Finding Roderick was the only thing Alexander had left, and if it meant tagging along with Team RRYL and waging war with the White Fang just for a clue of where he might be, then so be it.
"Why the long face?!"
Across the table, Laurence slammed his bowl of oats drowning in honey and pulled up a seat, loud enough earn them a noise complaint.
"Larry, quiet down." Yonah set down a container of fresh food. "You'll disturb the other guests."
Laurence stuffed his face with oatmeal, and Yonah's pale green gaze slid up and down Alexander more times than a doctor checking their patient.
"So, if you don't mind me asking," Yonah leaned forward and propped her cheek on her gloved hands, "what's got you all moody?"
Alexander grunted.
Brushing a loose strand of her yellow-white hair, she forced the concern heavy on her frown to become a smile.
"Don't be shy." A half assed laugh bled from her lips. "I know we may have only recently met, but even a stranger like me can tell there's something clearly eating away at you."
"I'm fine," he said.
"I bet he misses school," Laurence said with his cheeks puffed up like a squirrel. "And his pals."
"We'll find Roderick, Alexander. I'm sure of it." Sympathy softened her gaze. "But in the meantime, why don't we get along? Let's be friends."
If getting along with her means getting her off his ass, then fine.
Alexander offered his hand. "Sure."
Yonah went stiff, the rainbow of hope sparkling above her head was crushed like a soda can, and for some reason, she just stared at his hand.
Laurence popped the spoon out of his mouth like a suction cup and grinned. "You gonna shake his hand or what?"
Shooting him a glare, she went straight from relaxed to stressed out of her mind.
Was something wrong?
Before anything else could happen, Yonah's scroll rang, and after a quick chat, she sighed.
"Looks like we'll have to continue this another time." She stood. "Reynold needs us; Sienna's awake."
While Laurence stayed behind to wrestle with Teddy in the living area, Alexander and Yonah went to the best room this suite had to offer, only to walk straight into the worst thing possible.
Confined like a prisoner in her own bed, Sienna redirected the flaming daggers flying out of her eyes from Reynold towards them.
"You must be starving." Reynold stepped away from his guard post beside the door. "So, I asked my team to bring you a meal. Leave it there."
Sienna's glower was tarnished by the way her gaze flickered between Yonah and the container in her hands.
The sliver of drool leaking from the corners of her mouth did her zero favours.
Yonah left the food on the small table to the side, far from Sienna's reach.
"But first," Reynold moved to the foot of the bed, "we need to have a chat."
Sienna chomped on a growl, restrained behind the bars of her sharp teeth.
Fishing a small cloth from his breast pocket, Reynold wiped his glasses.
"I had questions about the White Fang's involvement with Beacon Academy." He checked the lens and continued wiping them. "But in light of recent events, it's clear you are not to blame. As a matter of fact, you were actually against the idea entirely."
Reynold blew his glasses and put them back on.
"I want Adam Taurus," he said.
Sienna snorted. "Same here."
"Then our interests align." He crossed his arms and frowned. "Now that Adam has the full might of the White Fang behind him, it would be troublesome to take him head on by ourselves. That's why I want to strongly suggest we work together." Exasperation left his lungs. "However, I have a feeling it'd be a waste of time."
"And you guessed right." She scoffed and choked the pillow in her arms. "As the High Leader of the White Fang, I would bring disgrace and shame to the Faunus for allying myself with humans."
"Former High Leader," Reynold said.
Sienna snarled.
"Just leave Adam to me." She flourished her long fingernails sharpened into claws. "You'll only get in my way."
"Whether you like it or not, Sienna, we are your best bet right now." A light of confidence and trust shined on Reynold. "Mistral is crawling with the White Fang who are loyal to Adam. You won't be able to step foot anywhere without getting caught in your condition."
For a split second, Sienna eased up and saw reason, but it sizzled away and left her more pissed off than ever.
"You can count on us." He offered his hand. "What do you say?"
She slapped it away.
The air around Reynold chilled. All forms of friendliness froze over. His ocular guns cocked and locked onto Sienna, and after a few long seconds, he stepped back.
"Yonah," he said.
Sadness rained over Yonah as she removed her gloves and reached for her.
Sienna tensed.
A bad gut feeling yelled at Alexander to stop her, so in a single heartbeat, he grabbed Yonah's wrist before he had a chance to think about it.
The way they gawked was no different than if he shot himself in the head.
Yonah gasped and ripped her arm away. "Don't touch me!"
The room wobbled, Alexander's peripherals darkened, and veins of red cracked his vision like the broken lens of a telescope. Whatever Yonah yelled was drowned by a cacophony of high-pitched ringing hammering the side of his skull.
Everyone in the room disappeared, replaced by shadows rising from the floor that took the shape of Chrysos.
Alexander went cold.
The putrid stench of his rotten corpse clogged his airways full of scratchy needles.
Chyrsos was all burnt up, his face completely void of emotion.
Soot puffed from his mouth. "Glad to see you haven't changed one bit, Leon."
Leon choked up, strangled by the suffocating thumps of his heart beating itself to death, and he lost the strength in his legs, collapsing against the wall as he struggled to catch his breath.
Chrysos kneeled in front of Leon and flicked him on the forehead. "Get lost."
The sting of the flick might as well have been a bullet lodged into Leon's skull. He dropped to the floorboards and stared at the lights until everything faded to black.