J.A. Criminal Consulting

I

It was over before it began.

His dream was over before it had a chance to take shape, shattered by nothing more than a piece of paper. He would never become a Huntsman. Never become a hero, never live up to his family name. He would never get the chance to perform great deeds and go down in legend. He felt sick, although whether it was from the cloud of depression hanging over head, or his eighth highball of rum and coke, he couldn't be sure. No doubt the pounding bass and blaring techno-music that permeated every inch of the nightclub wasn't helping.

Jaune Arc was rejected from Beacon Academy.

He should have been thankful that his forged transcripts didn't earn him a stay in a Valian prison. Instead he'd simply been sent the usual bog-standard letter with the Beacon Academy letterhead at the top, simply stating that he'd been refused from entering. So there he was, in Vale, sitting at the nearest bar he could find, trying to drown his sorrows. What did he do now? He had a sizable amount of Lien that wasn't being used for Beacon tuition in his account; the product of a few years of saving up allowances and gift money. He had more than enough to fly back home, yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.

How could he go back home and admit he'd failed? It would be an issue he'd tackle later. All he wanted to do was to get more hammered than a particularly stubborn nail. To get drunker than anyone ever had, so he could forget his crushing depression for just one night. He'd wake up the next morning and figure out what to do with his life from there. For now…

Jaune lifted the glass to his lips and drank from the blend of cola and mid-shelf rum. It was the only alcoholic drink he could stand; he wasn't much a drinker and the last time he'd tried whiskey at his father's offer, it was a wretched experience. He could already feel himself growing dizzy, his vision blurring causing the lights of the nightclub to blend together in a chaotic jumble, and the music was sounding more distant to him. Another drink. Why did he want to become a Huntsman anyway?

To follow in his family's footsteps? The same family that never treated him as anything more than a child? Maybe it was something else. A desire to leave behind a legacy. To be known for something. To go down in history. Jaune chuckled to himself, the sound lost amid the dancing and music. Perhaps being plastered was opening himself up to realizations, but the more he thought and mused upon it, the clearer it became. It wasn't for any altruistic reason; he just wanted to be known. He wanted to be respected and stop being a joke. Was it too much to ask to be respected? To be treated as something more than just the village idiot, or the baby brother who needed to be protected from everything lest he injure himself in his stupidity?

Another drink. Maybe it was for the best. He didn't know the first thing about fighting, and his body was only honed through what little farm work he'd done around the family home. While he dreamed of glory, he'd probably more likely end up dead in the belly of a Beowulf. What else could he do though? What was he good at? Nothing. He was good at nothing. He was an idiot teenager without any talents or skills. He sighed deeply. Another drink.

His glass was running empty, and his drinks were less rum and coke, and more rum and coke flavored ice water. The lights and music had somehow blended together to his senses, and he staggered to his feet, swaying like a plant in a gentle breeze. The movement reminded his body that his bladder was getting full, but the information took a significant amount of time to reach his alcohol addled brain. Long enough for him to cross the bar from his corner table, weaving drunkenly through the dancers. He approached the bar with his empty glass and placed it down on the counter, before the aforementioned information finally hit home. He had to piss, and bad.

Where was the bathroom again?

Once more, the young blond man drunkenly stumbled, this time toward the back of the bar. He threw open a door and stumbled inside…

"Junior?"

The ironically named mountain of a man glanced up with a dry 'hrm?'

"Never get married."

Silence. Then, "You aren't married, Roman."

Across from the bearded giant, a ginger haired man in a fancy suit and bowler hat, shook his head, leaning over the table. "Legally, no, but what else would you call being ordered around by a woman you'd planned to sleep with?"

"I'd call it being an idiot." Junior's gruff voice muttered, before turning his attention back to the table. Upon it sat a stack of papers, various blueprints of different buildings, each one marked with red pen.

Tap.

Junior glanced up to see a thin blade glinting in the lamplight, laid across the table. His eyes followed it up to a gloved hand, and then to the petite woman it belonged to, glaring at him. "Keep your damn attack dog in line, Roman, or you can find someone else to bum help from." Junior muttered darkly, keeping his eyes locked onto the diminutive woman's gaze.

Roman sighed. "Neo, blade away. Junior is friends, not food." Neo sheathed her blade wordlessly, but continued to affix Junior with a look of displeasure. "I swear, Cinder is going to be the death of me, and I don't mean that figuratively. I just got done with a heist, and she wants more Dust? I mean, sure, that one was a botched operation, but how the hell was I supposed to expect some little kid who ate her Pumpkin Pete's?"

Junior turned his attention back to Roman, his frown deepening. "You still owe me for the missing men."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Please, as though you're really hurting for help. Most of those men didn't have a lick of brains in their skulls anyway. You should be thanking me for weeding out the useless chaff."

"I don't hire them for their brains, and if my men keep getting arrested, it makes getting more harder. I'm not asking you to risk your life for them, but I'm tired of you coming back solo from every mission." Junior grumbled. Neo started, glaring at Junior once more, and from either side of Junior a pair of twin girls also stepped forward, glaring back at the petite woman. Simultaneously, Roman put an arm in front of Neo, and Junior held out a hand of his own, and all three women stopped.

"Fine, fine." Roman murmured, his attention more focused on the blueprints before him than the tension rising in the room. He stood up straight and turned sharply on his heel, spinning around to a whiteboard in the room with a crudely drawn map copied from the top blueprint. There were symbols and markings everywhere, labels off to the side in a key. "Look, this plan will be fine. We know the owner of this store has a hidden security button underneath the desk, so all we have to do is make sure he doesn't press it, and alert the authorities. Then again, I know that old fart, and the bastard never leaves that desk for anything...hm…" Roman stroked his chin, frowning. The petite woman walked up beside him, tilting her head in curiosity. "What do you think, Neo?"

Neo blinked and shrugged listlessly.

"...don't know what I expected." Roman murmured. "Junior? Your thoughts?"

Junior sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How the hell should I know? I'm here to supply you muscle. I don't do heists."

Roman turned back to the table, followed by Neo, the former scowling. "Fat lot of help you are."

Melanie Malachite exchanged glances with her sister. Miltia Malachite rolled her eyes in silent communication, and the twins shook their head in tandem. Despite being far in the back of the building, the pounding bass of the DJ could still be heard and felt. Miltia turned to look over her shoulder, glancing at the door, wondering if it had been left open-

...and froze.

"Uh, Junior?" Miltia spoke up, her tone confused.

"Hang on," Junior murmured, shuffling through the blueprints.

"Junior?"

"I said hold on!" Junior muttered, more forcefully.

Miltia watched, as a tall, thin blond boy wearing an awkward combination of armor and a hoodie, stumbled around a bit, glancing around. Judging just by the far away, unfocused gaze, even she could tell he was five sheets to the wind. He stumbled over to a potted plant that Junior kept in the corner of his office, and that's when she heard the sound of a zipper. She continued watching, agape with shock at the sheer audacity of it all, as the blond boy proceeded to urinate onto the plant. She turned back to the table, where now everyone, her sister included, were all leaning over the blueprints.

"Do you think you could fool him into thinking that someone needs help?" Melanie asked.

"No." Roman groaned. "Neo and I have our faces plastered all over Vale, and Junior's men have a distinct uniform. Old bastard would know it was us the moment we stepped foot into view."

"What about sniping him from long distance?" Junior suggested. "There's a building with a decent vantage point from across the street."

Roman's face scrunched up in distaste. "Not that I've ever been one to shy away from violence, but I hate leaving a body behind. Murder tends to get more Huntsmen involved, and I'd prefer to deal with the Vale police, rather than a bunch of brats with their Aura unlocked, and high-tech weaponry."

"Guys?" Miltia once more spoke up, hesitantly.

"You? Not leave bodies behind?" scoffed Junior. "I figured that tiny psychopath of yours would jump at the chance to slit a few throats."

Roman put a hand to his chest. "Junior! I can't believe you'd say such things! You'll hurt poor Neo's feelings." As if on cue, Neo gave a theatrical and overly dramatic swoon, caught by Roman who shook his head. "Look at her."

Junior rolled his eyes. "Look, do you want my help with this or not? I should be behind my bar."

"Oh please, like you'd rather tend bar for a bunch of Beacon brats rather than work with us. Neo might be a tad bloodthirsty, but would you rather a repeat of the blond bitch who came in her last week?"

Junior rankled, growling. "Don't remind me." He spat between clenched teeth, the pen in his hand snapping under the strain it was under.

Miltia turned around once more to try and stop the blond boy, and found the potted plant alone once more. She quickly glanced around, trying to find where he'd gone to, only to spot the lanky lad now making his way to the whiteboard. He stood before it, swaying in place for a few seconds, before grabbing one of the markers and proceeding to write upon the whiteboard. "Guys?!" she called once more, stepping back from the table to walk over to him, starting to get over her initial shock of seeing a random civilian in Junior's office.

"Aw, what's the matter Junior?" Roman teased, grinning wickedly, "Don't tell me you got distracted by some young cleavage and she kicked your ass for it?"

"Roman, do not push your luck…" Junior warned, narrowing his eyes as his hand dipped below the table for what was obviously his weapon.

"Or what?" Roman sneered back, a click sounding as Neo unsheathed a portion of her blade.

"GUYS!" Miltia shouted.

"What?!" Junior and Roman shouted back, simultaneously, both turning to glare at the twin.

Silently, Miltia motioned to the whiteboard, and the room was filled with the squeak of marker on whiteboard. Slowly, the occupants around the table turned, to notice a tall blond boy standing with a hand on his hip, marker in other hand. He made a couple more marks, then turned around, still swaying in place. "Taa-daa~!" He slurred. "I fixed it!"

Four pairs of eyes blinked back incredulously. As if he felt his explanation wasn't getting through, the boy continued. "It-hic-it wash all wrooong!" he continued to slur. "Soooo, I fixed it!" The boy gestured wildly to the board which was now marked up.

Neo was the first to recover, and promptly strode across the room swiftly, her parasol handle extending out and down, hooking the boy by the ankle and tripping him. He hit the ground with a thud, groaning. The petite woman unsheathed her blade fully, and pointed it at him, bringing the tip of the shining weapon to the boy's eye. So drunk was he, that the action barely seemed to register, and he simply stared at the weapon with a confused expression. Neo tensed up, preparing to run the boy through-

"Hang on a minute…" Roman murmured, walking to the whiteboard. Neo paused, blinking as she watched Roman leaning close to the board. "What the hell…" Roman whispered.

"Who the hell is that?" Junior snapped.

"I was trying to tell you!" Miltia shot back. "He just walked in here, pissed in the plant in the corner and started marking up the board!"

Roman suddenly stood up, snapping his fingers. "Of course! How didn't I see it?!"

"Huh?" Junior, Miltia and Melanie all asked at once, turning their attention from the boy to Roman.

"We fake a fire using a little red Dust! Old bastard rushes to go put it out, leaves his desk, we swoop in, take him hostage, rob the place dry and hightail it out of there before anyone's the wiser!" Roman looked down at the blond boy. "I gotta hand it to you, I'm impressed!"

"Huh?" One Jaune Arc muttered, still staring cross-eyed at Neo's blade hovering mere centimeters from his head.

Junior glanced at the board, blinking. "Hang on, that's what the kid drew?" The board now had a crudely drawn fire on it, followed by arrows pointing to the fire extinguisher near the front of the store. He scratched his beard and nodded. "That...that actually could work. As long as you remain hidden before he goes to put out the fire…" Junior turned back to Jaune, surprise in his gaze.

Neo tilted her head, glancing puzzled at Roman. Roman, in turn, shook his head. "Nah. Leave him. Look at him." Neo turned to glance down at Jaune. "Kid's so plastered he probably won't remember who we are, much less what happened tonight." Roman turned once more on his heel, making his way for the door. "I'll pay off the kids tab. Least I can do for the idea. Neo? We've got a heist to plan."

Neo, with a vaguely disappointed look on her face, shrugged and sheathed her blade, quickly catching up to Roman and following him out the door, leaving Junior, Melanie, Miltia, and one very drunk Jaune Arc behind.

There was silence.

"Huh." Junior was the first to break it.

"What?" Miltia turned to Junior.

"Kid's more sauced than an Alfredo plate, and yet he waltzes in here, pisses in my plant and cracks this heist in seconds." Junior stroked his chin in thought. "You two. Drag the kid into the back room, and let him sleep things off."

"Wait, why?" Miltia responded, cocking an eyebrow.

"Remember what I told you about assets?"

The twins looked at one another, falling silent in thought. Melanie spoke up first. "Never pass up the chance to acquire more?"

Junior nodded. "And sometimes, it's worth it to take a risk on one. Call me crazy," Junior looked back down at the blond boy, who was now passed out on the cold cement ground, "but I got a good feeling about this one…"

A/N: Before anyone yells at me, no, this isn't another story, per se. This is more of a writing experiment for the Work In Progress Server. What this is, is a story written by multiple authors who have no idea where the story is going, and are only working off of what has been written before hand. Will this be silly? Will this be serious? Will Jaune end up with anyone? Who knows? I've set the stage, and now it's up to fellow authors to carry this story. Each chapter will be written by a new author, who will be taking the story in their chosen direction.

Who knows what kind of chaos this will spawn?