Chapter Twenty: Style and Subterfuge
"Shit-!"
Quin stumbled forward, arms flailing like a drunk goose on stilts, barely catching himself before he faceplanted into the side of a recycling bin. The curb had risen a whole inch higher than expected, and the morning sun had been directly in his eyes.
Treacherous circumstances.
A trap, really.
He glared down at the sidewalk like it had personally offended him.
"That's it, I'm drafting a complaint."
Behind him, Revenant tilted her head.
"That'd require paperwork."
...
Nevermind.
She glided over the same curb without so much as a creak, jewelry fluttering faintly with each motionless step. Her dress shifting with the wind while her feet tapped harmoniously against the cement.
Quin sighed, adjusted his tech jacket, and kept walking.
After some careful consideration, which totally didn't last a whole 30 seconds, they'd settled evicting the White Fang
Big name, lots of rumors, and no easy way to find them.
They weren't even an option at first, as he had been arguing with Mordred between the Xiong family and a smaller band of thieves, until one of his skulls randomly followed a pack of nervous-looking thugs cutting through the docks.
They'd whispered to each other like amateurs... about "proving themselves,", "getting inside," and something about a "an opportunity to be something more."
It didn't take long for them to enter through a shipping garage front. The whole place looked like it'd been condemned five years ago. But someone had gone through the trouble of repainting the back door, replacing the lock, and putting up fresh cameras, cheap ones, but functional nonetheless.
The skull spent a whole 10 seconds looking for an alternative entrance, before going through a busted skylight and there they were... White Fang.
Quin hadn't even needed to make a decision, he'd pinged it on the map and told Revenant: "We've got our first victi- targets."
But that was for later.
Now? Now was clothes shopping, Revenant needed some shoes and maybe something a couple centuries newer.
He eyed the approaching plaza- a cluster of mid-budget stores and boutique outlets. It wasn't exactly high fashion, but it'd do.
Revenant, trailing beside him like a historical reenactment of the 17th century, had started to draw looks in broad day light.
So he'd asked for funds.
Specifically, he'd told Ozpin, "Look, I know it's a weird ask, but I need some funding."
...
"I promise to be responsible."
That had apparently worked, because Qrow showed up around noon that day with a small envelope, a smirk, and a warning to blow it all on chocolate.
So here they were, walking toward Vale's shopping strip with a pocket full of lien and a goal.
To blend Revenant in, or if they failed that, make her look less like M3gan.
She stared daggers at the back of his head, unblinking. "Why is this necessary?"
"Because right now you look like you belong in the theatre." he replied dryly.
"Thank you."
"Not a compliment."
A moment passed.
"I want something with belts."
"…That can be arranged."
Quin squinted at the storefronts ahead, reading names that ranged from "Arcadia Stitch" to "ThreadKatz." A few were clearly high-end, with glass doors and mannequins posed like they were judging him. Others were budget outlets with SALE signs bigger than their logos.
His eyes landed on the nearest one:
M&H.
Simple, clean, aggressively beige.
"Ehhh, good enough." He muttered, already heading for the automatic doors.
Revenant drifted after him, looking at the doors in mild amazement.
Inside, the air smelled like processed cotton and some new pop song about how this will be the day. The lighting was that specific shade of white that made everything look slightly worse than it actually was.
Quin scanned the first rack.
…Yeah, this wasn't good.
It was horrible, actually.
Regardless, he put up a black hoodie with gold embroidery to her chest. "This screams perfect."
Revenant gave the hoodie a glance before swatting his hand away
"It screams 'shoot me'"
Quin held it against his chest like a wounded duck. "Okay, rude."
He looked around again. Everything here either looked like shit, had too big of sleeves, or slogans like 'Vale Vibes Only' printed across the chest in peeling font. He spotted a cropped denim jacket with a hood attached to it, a hood, on a denim jacket.
Some crimes could not be forgiven.
Revenant had already wandered to a nearby display, carefully nudging aside a rack of sleeveless shirts like they might bite.
"I am not wearing a shirt that says 'Snack Attack,'" she said flatly.
"I didn't say you had to, but now that I know it exists…"
She turned her gaze on him with a dead-eyed stare. "You're not helping."
Quin sighed, defeated. "Alright, this place is dead to us."
They exited as quickly as they'd entered. Revenant didn't even blink as the doors whooshed open again behind them. Quin, meanwhile, was mentally scrubbing the interior from his memory.
Back outside, the street was warmer, busier. Two teens walked by carrying iced drinks and wearing outfits coordinated enough to make him feel underdressed.
He scanned the row of storefronts again. ThreadKatz had an aggressive pink sign and glittering window displays full of skirts, boots, and edgy tops covered in mesh and buckles.
Honestly… kind of her vibe.
"What about that one?" Quin said, jerking his chin toward it.
Revenant followed his gaze, then nodded once. "Acceptable."
He blinked. "Seriously?"
Just as he was about to walk over... Quin already bracing for a sensory overload of black lace, faux leather, and chokers sharp enough to qualify as weapons, an arm suddenly slung around their shoulders.
"Well, well, if it isn't Wonderboy," came a smug, velvet-smooth voice. "And… porcelain perfection?"
Quin stiffened mid-step.
Revenant didn't move, but her fingers twitched like she was debating whether to shatter whoever just touched her.
They both turned.
Coco Adel.
Sunglasses gleaming despite the shade. Combat jacket draped stylishly off one shoulder like a casual afterthought. A plaid scarf somehow working with fingerless gloves, boots, and enough accessories to open a small boutique.
Coco stepped back with a flourish, giving them both a once-over.
"Damn," she said, adjusting her sunglasses with a practiced smirk. "Didn't know ceramic was trending again."
Quin groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Coco."
"Wonderboy," she returned, finger guns fully deployed. "Didn't expect to see you dragging your girlfriend into this fashion graveyard."
"She's not my girlfriend."
"And I'm not ceramic," Revenant added. "It's porcelain."
Coco paused for a moment. "There's a difference?"
"She's new," Quin cut in, before Revenant could start explaining things like glaze texture and temperature firing. "Trying to help her blend in."
Coco tilted her head at Revenant, arms folding, and behind those damn shades, she was definitely analyzing.
"…New to Vale?" she asked.
"New to… everything," Revenant said.
"Ohhh, baby," Coco winced. "No wonder, nobody dresses like that any more unless they time-traveled here from the great war."
His summon's eyes narrowed. "I like this outfit."
"And you're allowed to," Coco said with a grin, "but only in private."
Before either of them could argue, Coco spun on her heel. "ThreadKatz is a war crime. Come on, I'm not letting you walk in there only to come out looking like a chandelier."
Quin blinked.
"Wait, what?"
"I'm taking her somewhere better," Coco said, already walking backwards and pointing dramatically. "Somewhere with lighting that doesn't make her look like a taxidermy project."
Revenant gave Quin a wary glance. "Is this one trustworthy?"
"…Ehhhhh," Quin said. "Just don't let her sell you sunglasses."
"Rude," Coco called. "Also, these are limited edition."
Revenant sighed and began following. "I still don't like her."
"Yeah," Quin muttered, trailing behind, "but she might've saved you from the worst version of Hot Topic."
"Hot what?" She turned back, looking at him.
"Nevermind"
...
Sometime Later.
...
Quin was dying.
Not physically, though that would've been preferable at this point, but spiritually, emotionally and even intelligently.
He slouched on a bench near the changing rooms like he'd just run a marathon through velvet and denim, arms sprawled, one leg jittering faintly as if trying to escape on its own. The store's ambient music, a peppy synthpop remix of something that probably killed a band's dignity, clawed at the inside of his skull.
His eyes were glassy and his soul? Long departed.
He groaned, dragging Mordred from his coat pocket like a man retrieving a confession from his last lifeline..
She didn't say anything, of course. Just sat there, plush and unblinking, little stitched eyes pointed up at Quin.
"Should've warned me," Quin muttered, staring into his tiny face. "I should've known, should've planned, that his would be a trap… gods, is this is how I die?"
A passing employee paused nearby, staring at him.
Quin didn't notice.
"They've been at this for hours," he said. "And we've only got like five outfits… you hear me?! Five."
He ran a hand down his face and sighed, then whispered to Mordred like they were old war buddies sharing one last drink before the end. "I can still escape, just need to fake a phone call, or scream fire… or maybe chew off my leg, that's an option right?."
That was when Revenant stepped out of the changing room.
Okay, that... surprisingly didn't suck.
She wore a puffy, high-collared white shirt with short sleeves cuffed neatly, buttons glinting like they'd survived a battlefield. Black shorts sat snug at her waist, clean lines held in place by a pair of tailored suspenders that connected to matching belts looped around her thighs, part function, part aesthetics. Thigh-highs, matte black, ran the length of her legs before meeting grey boots. A white bow was tied around her neck, and while her midriff was exposed, a pair of gloves helped obscure the delicate joints of her fingers.
Still out of place in Vale, but now looked pretty damn spiffy.
Quin blinked, slowly lowering Mordred.
"…Damn," he muttered. "She kinda looks like the female lead of a detective dating sim."
She glanced at him, lips pursed. "Is that good?"
Coco answered first, nodding like she'd just won an award. "It's excellent."
Revenant gave a faint, unreadable expression, then turned to look at herself in the mirror. "...Acceptable."
Quin, still holding Mordred, let out a faint groan. "Cool, now can we leave before I forget what sunlight feels like?"
"Just one more outfit," Coco said, cheerfully dragging Revenant back toward the racks.
Quin stared at the ceiling. "I will set this place on fire."
Mordred quivered in excitement.
…
One Eternity Later.
Quin died.
Or at least his soul did, quietly and without ceremony, somewhere between the ninth outfit change and Coco's impassioned speech about boot choices. The only thing that tethered him to this mortal coil was spite and the promise of tacos after.
He was okay now.
Mostly because of those tacos.
But he swore an oath, a sacred, binding vow.
Never. Again.
Never shopping with those two again.
He sat now cross-legged on a bench across from a nondescript industrial warehouse, the kind of building that practically screamed "definitely not a front for criminal activity.", though he was mostly focused on the small plastic fidget cube in his hand.
Click, Spin, Click-Click. ⁹
The tactile rhythm of tiny buttons and switches was the only thing keeping him from thinking too hard.
Where'd he get it? One of Coco bribes to keep him from complaining, it was Velvet's apparently.
Revenant stood beside him staring at his toy. The outfit still suited her, if anything even more now. She'd made it her own, by adding a blue flower tucked into the knot of her tie while also adding her cursed claws- those strange, gilded adornments on her gloves -that caught the light with every movement.
"You know, it's kind of unfair."
Revvie tilted her head. "What is?"
"That you look like a fashion model."
"…Is that a compliment?"
She was confused… I mean, what's a model anyways?
He flicked one of the cube's clickers. "A bit, more envy than anything."
Ahead, the building loomed. Pretty much the only thing he's got on the White Fang. The show wasn't exactly clear on where exactly everything was, so he couldn't really count those.
He tapped his foot, glancing at the sky. "This is the part where I regret not bringing the cavalry."
"You have cavalry?" Revenant gave the faintest hum of amusement.
"Figure of speech," he squinted at the warehouse, "but still even with your… everything, this isn't going to be fun."
"Its war," she said. "It's not meant to be."
Fair.
Quin sighed and stood, stretching out his back with a crack. He let the fidget cube fall into one of his jacket pockets and glanced at the building again.
Two guards at the front and another on the catwalk above.
Light traffic to and from the back entrance.
Minimal security, but that didn't exactly mean much, they were probably relying on the general assumption that no one was stupid enough to come poking around their teeth.
But here Quin was.
Glorious, slightly sleep-deprived Quin.
"Mhmn," he half mumbled before standing up, brushing off his ass of all the dirt stuck to it. "Let's go do some soliciting"
"...We aren't selling anything-" She shot him a side glance.
He jusf leaned over, and gave her a solid, straight arm shove forwards. "Revenant, I choose you!"
She stumbled a step, catching herself with eerie grace, and swiveled her head slowly back towards him.
"...You're lucky I don't breathe fire."
"You might," He fell into step behind her. "We haven't tested."
It didn't take long for the two guards to spot them, a guy with this really cool jacket and a porcelain doll weren't exactly the best for hiding.
Not that they were even trying, anyways.
The guards glanced at each other for a moment, one shrugging before slowly raising his rifle at the two.
The other's snapped up in perfect sync.
"Don't move!"
Revenant halted.
Quin did not.
He slowed just enough to look like he was respecting the warning, but not nearly enough to stop the migraine forming behind one guard's left eye. His belts swayed with each step, clinking together like a bad wind chime.
One guard twitched. "Hey, I said-!"
He held up his heads. "Right, right, I heard you, just wanted to get within conversation range before the whole shooting me bit."
He stopped about ten paces away, tilted his head, and offered a tired smile.
"Sooo… any chance you're taking applicants?"
The guards exchanged a look.
It wasn't solely filled with confusion.
But also sheer bamboozlement.
Revenant sighed, staring blankly at him "We're not here for that."
"Not only for that," He corrected. "I could be an asset, I know where the mop is in most industrial compounds, and that's value I'd say."
One guard slowly adjusted his aim downward, toward Quin's leg. "You're not serious."
"About the mop, no? I've never been here before."
He gave them both a quick once-over. Matching boots, minimal armor, basic guns and that oh so beloved grimm mask… and they totally didnt reak of cheap vodka and cigarettes, no siree.
"Listen," he added, stepping forward just enough to make both barrels twitch again. "We're not here to cause trouble, probably, hopefully… just here to ask who we go to in order to support the faunus?"
Revenant stood silently beside him, gaze fixed ahead like this was just another Tuesday.
It was a Wednesday, but still.
Eventually, one of the guards, clearly the less drunk one, lowered his weapon slightly. "Who are you?"
"Moreno, this is… Blanca, and we're new 'round here." He paused. "Let's go with freelance fighters."
The guard's eyes narrowed, his rifle still half-raised as he squinted past the Quin's sweat-matted bangs.
Then he blinked.
A second passed.
Then another.
And then.
"Wait a second," he muttered, stepping slightly closer with all the cautious energy of a man approaching a very charming landmine. "You're a cat faunus."
Quin blinked back, deadpan. "Feline."
The second guard leaned over, now also squinting, eyes following the gold gleam of Quin's slit pupils as they caught the light. One hand twitched on his trigger.
"Why didn't you say anything?" the drunker of the two blurted, like Quin had just committed some form of social faux pas.
Quin gestured vaguely to his own face. "I did, you're just too drunk on Everclear to listen"
That seemed to short-circuit the more sober guard for a moment.
The fucks ever clear? was probably went through his mind.
His mouth opened, then closed.
Then opened again. "Wait, are you saying you actually want to join? Like, the cause?"
"Unless there's another mask-wearing, rifle-pointing organization out here getting recognition for endangered wildlife." He gave them a pointed look. "Yes."
Revenant tilted her head slightly toward him, muttering under her breath, "You could try not antagonizing them."
"I'm not," he whispered back. "I'm being charming, it's a fine line."
The guard scratched the side of his mask, clearly still unsure.
"...Freelance fighters," the guard repeated.
"Yup."
The two looked at each other. Then back at him. And reluctantly… slowly… one of them stepped aside.
"…Fine. You want in? Go talk to Kline inside. He's the one handling new blood."
Quin fired off a finger gun. "Kline, got it."
"You pull anything weird, you'll be dead before you hit the floor."
"Copy that, Rambo."
2931 Words
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Rejoice! For there's yet another chapter. I'm trying to include more cast interactions so— suggest any you might wanna see <3