(This is a not-for-profit fan made work. I do not own RWBY, that is owned by RoosterTeeth and likely by the family and friends of Monty Oum, may he rest in peace. I probably own my O.C., however I'd have to double-check copyright law to confirm that.
Now, due to the very kind actions of one "Katzel" on Deviant Art, I have cover-art for my fanfiction. Katzel went to the trouble to create an entirely new picture with this fanfiction in mind and I am extremely flattered and impressed by the picture. Links to both Katzel's Deviant Art account and the specific picture, titled Roman and Neo 03 on Deviant Art, can be found on my profile. Thank you very much to Katzel for making such an awesome picture, and now, without further ado, let us proceed with the story.)
Roman Torchwick was agitated. Yes, yes that was the word for it. Agitated. Perhaps, even highly agitated. In fact if one was feeling bold, one might even go so far as to say that he was agitated enough to KLL THAT ARROGANT LITTLE BLACK HAIRED FIRE WITCH AND BOTH OF HER SIMPERING PET URCHIN BRATS! … Yeah… yeah he was at that third one by now.
It wasn't that he hadn't expected to run into a bit of difficulty during this particularly stressful criminal enterprise. He had come to anticipate a certain degree of backlash and setback with every operation, and most of the ventures he'd overseen as of recent were especially high-risk. On top of that he'd run into those brats from Beacon… what three, four times by now? Did the first time with that little Red nuisance count? Whatever, the point was that meeting Red and her band of miscreants had become such a common occurrence that he wasn't exactly surprised when she and her pet pest squad had shown up to derail his latest scheme, almost literally. Annoyed, oh most certainly, but not surprised.
He wasn't even all that upset when he got 'caught' by Cinder's street-rat fangirl and kick-happy psychopath. Apparently his getting captured by Atlas was also part of Cinder's "Grand Master Plan" the one she kept not telling him about to be specific, and she fully intended to break him out while he was still on General Ironwood's oh so very impressively oversized airship. In sum, this was all going according to her design despite the interruption from juvenile would-be do-gooders, and he had nothing to worry about.
Well maybe he didn't have anything to worry about, but he had PLENTY to gripe about. For example, while being in a cell wasn't exactly a new experience for him this was a cell on a military ship, not his more typical residence in casa'la VPD holding. It was cramped like he could not BELIEVE, dark, and he was surrounded on all sides by hard stiff metal without even the suspiciously dirty and foul-smelling cot that he'd usually get. So whether this was an improvement or not was a grey area, but still, it was really uncomfortable, murder on his back, not to mention his finely sculpted tush. And they'd taken his HAT! Really!? Was that ENTIRELY necessary!? Honestly, he tells them to watch it and in response they 'take it away for observation?!' Oh ha ha! The imbeciles, did they have any idea how hard quality headwear was to come by?!
But he could actually forgive both of those things… well, not forgive exactly, but put to the back of his mind for future vengeance at a convenient date and time which was much, much more satisfying. But, he could deal with the abhorrently cramped conditions and lack of his favorite bowler hat for a few days without swearing eternal vengeance and thinking about killing his boss, something that could and would only happen in the realm of thought. No, comfort and his love of fine dress were things he could do without for as long as necessary… What he couldn't go without for any goodly length of time, what he was far less likely to forgive, and what he was going to kill the soldiers outside his cell, General Ironwood, and think very strongly about killing Cinder's brats if not her over, was the simple fact that they'd TAKEN HIS CIGARS!
Roman was an Ash Dust addict. For good or more likely ill, it was simply the truth. And when he did not get his fix of the highly addictive powerfully flavored substance, he was understandably PEEVED! And as a man with an already easily ignitable temper, the effects of additionally inflaming said temper could be truly terrifying, as anyone who had worked for Roman ever could attest to. And the soldiers of Atlas had DEFINITELY inflamed said temper. After all, those weren't just any cigars with the drug-like substance, oh no, they were his favored 'Pumpkin Blend', imported at great personal expense from Vacuo, those cigars being one of the only things worthwhile to come from that backwater excuse for a Kingdom. So, to recap, he was in a cramped cell, with a critical part of his well put together ensemble missing, and he did not have his very important, very specific blend of cigars… FOR DAYS… … He was ready to kill anyone and everyone who happened to enter into his train of thought, much less sight.
Torchwick sighed, bringing his right hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, his left elbow resting on his left knee as he took a deep breath in, and then out slowly. These kinds of thoughts wouldn't get him anywhere, wouldn't even help him cope with his steadily mounting aggravation. The choice to not give him his drug was likely a deliberate move on the General's part to help wear him down, then Ironwood could present it as a bribe to obtain his cooperation. Of course Roman could only speculate on that, as he hadn't even seen Ironwood since he first spoke with him after his capture. A bit odd come to think of it. Roman guessed that setting up security for the Vytal Festival was stressful work, keeping his dear friendly General occupied like that instead of coming over for a visit…
The incredibly stressed criminal mastermind gritted his teeth and growled low in his throat, opening the one eye he actually used to see with and glowering at the floor below, as his aggravation flared up again, and the hints of another in a long series of headaches began to form at the front of his skull.
"I swear if Cinder doesn't break me out of here soon I'm going to strangle BOTH those pet brats of hers, see how smug she is then!" He growled out. And just after he did so, a-
SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!
SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!
SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!
Filled the ship. Piercing klaxons, practically drilling into his ears, accompanied by flashing deep red lights. He supposed that those were in case any of Atlas's finest combat ready soldiers happened to be hearing impaired, because no creature alive would be able to miss those INSUFFERABLY loud alarms. Moving his hands up to his ears to fight back against the painful blaring, Roman nonetheless smirked with a cocky and amused glint in his eye.
"Well, speak of the she-devil and she shall appear." He spoke pleasantly, barely able to hear himself due to the noise but still feeling compelled to call Cinder a she-devil out loud. Despite this, he was in a good mood again and no longer thinking about slaughtering her pet psychopaths. After all, those accursed sirens most likely meant that she'd proceeded to her 'phase three' and was breaking onto the ship to get him out. The alarm's wail hailed his coming sweet release, and just the thought that he'd soon be out of this accursed cell and back with his favorite cigars, Melodic Cudgel, stylish hat, and smacking around some of the Atlas clods that separated him from his beloveds, was more than enough to fill him with glee…
… … … … For about ten minutes. Then that feeling slowly but surely began to go away… It devolved into annoyance as the twenty minute mark of siren blaring but no Cinder was reached… and then turned into frustration at thirty… and into actual anger at forty. An HOUR later, the alarms CONTINUING To blare long after they started, Roman was practically grinding his teeth, eye wide with rage, hands pressed tightly over his ears.
HOW MUCH LONGER WAS SHE GOING TO MAKE HIM WAIT!? HIS EARS COULD ONLY TAKE SO MUCH OF THIS TORTURE! He internally screamed and shouted, ranting in his head as his arms ached from being in the same position for an hour and a migraine from the alarm and drug deprivation both pounded in his skull. Fortunately for Roman fate, luck, or some greater power that had decided the criminal's torment had gone on long enough for now, saw the alarms stop shortly after the hour mark had passed. The flashing red lights, which Roman was sure were some sort of seizure hazard and/or a manifestation of Ironwood's true internal sadism, ceased with the alarms, and all was quiet.
At least quiet to Roman who couldn't very well hear after all of that noise. His ears were still ringing, curse this Atlas engineering, probably put a speaker right in his cell or something so it'd sound extra loud. Muttering to himself, Roman moved his right gloved hand up to his right ear and started to dig into it with his gloved pinkie, mainly to get the ringing out of his ears. Still, he was back to smirking. After all, now that the alarms were off Cinder had probably taken the bridge, and she and her team were moving through the ship, on her way to come get him so she could put him to use.
But as time passed again, only five minutes this time, with the cessation of the alarms and once again no Cinder or annoying Cinder brats coming to his cell, he started to worry. His brow furrowed and his hands gripped his knees as the ringing in his ears faded naturally, his good eye staring at the door through the dark. … Had… had Cinder FAILED to take the ship? No, no she couldn't have. Cinder was one of the strongest fighters in the world. Better than him, unfortunately, better than her brats, certainly, better than Beacon's brats, definitely, and even better than Neo who Roman KNEW was as deadly as she was psychotic. There was no way she'd lose to Atlas's pathetic soldiers and their General… would she?
Roman bit his bottom lip. Doubt began to worm its way into his heart, and as it began to take hold and fester within his chest the sound of 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' could be heard, faintly, outside of Roman's cell. Footsteps, of someone coming for him most likely. But they weren't the 'clink-clink-clink' of Cinder's glass heels. Nor were they the 'thud-thud-thud' of Atlas soldiers in their marching boots. Roman didn't know WHO was making that sound, and immediately began to think of all the possible culprits. Red and her rather uninteresting footwear? That cat-girl, Blake was it? No, she was far too quiet for those footsteps. It could be that brat Emerald, not Mercury though his steps would be heavier with his weapon boots. Someone else that Roman hadn't met yet?
Roman didn't know. So far nothing had progressed as he'd thought it would, so as the 'tap' sound came closer to his door he breathed in and out a little faster, sweat starting to form on his skin as he looked to the door. The sound of a 'Beep' 'Beep' 'Beep' 'Beep', as numbers to his cell code started to get punched in only made him more anxious… But like heck he was going to show it.
Roman straightened up, rolled his shoulders back, cracked his head side to side, and narrowed his eye at the door, calming and slowing his breath, making sure he was as loose as possible. As the last of the numbers got punched in, and accepted with a longer 'BEEEP', Roman smirked and let his eye take a cocky bend, sure to display confidence, even if he didn't feel it. Depending on who opened that door Roman was either in for a very good day, or a very bad one. And he intended to be ready for either, never letting friend or foe see him sweat.
So poised, ready, and with his body as relaxed as he could make it, he watched as the door 'slid' open and light flooded into his room. He didn't count on the transition from dark to light affecting him that much, especially with the recent flashing red, so probably lost a few of his style points when he blinked rapidly and had to furrow his brow to get his eye used to the illumination. But after a few moments he was able to see the figure beyond the door clearly, able to fully make out the individual's features and-
"… … … I'm sorry… WHO are you?" Asked Roman almost incredulously as his eyebrow raised.
In front of him was a lean young man, maybe twenty years old, with very light skin, bright white hair, a single black streak running through said hair from the middle to the bangs above his right eyebrow, and slightly dulled white eyes. He was wearing a finely tailored tuxedo suit, black, with a black dress shirt underneath, and a bright white tie. There were white gloves on his hands and black dress shoes on his feet, dancing shoes actually now that Roman got a better look at them, with white soles. On top of his head was a black fedora, very much like the ones worn by Junior's men, though with a white band circling it instead of a red. Actually, as Roman came to think of it, aside from the color changes and the lack of sunglasses, this interloper dressed very much like one of the thugs he'd hired from Junior's Club. Only… well, sleeker, wearing the clothes better, and holding himself with a good deal more poise than they had.
The young man for his part was standing in the doorway, his left arm just beyond it, out of Roman's sight, right hand down at his side, and his body standing straight and calm as he looked down to Roman. His stark gazers moved up and down, looking over the figure of Vale's resident criminal mastermind, seeming to evaluate him. After a moment, this unknown figure cocked his head to the right slightly, bringing his eyes up to meet Roman's singular visible orb, before speaking.
"Susie Diamonds. Or Susan if you'd prefer. I like the color pink, cute boys, and long walks on the beach beneath the pale light of the broken moon." He responded simply, his voice pleasant enough to listen to with its natural cadence, rather level at the moment… though the DRIPPING and obvious sarcasm somewhat colored it.
"Who are YOU?" He asked, stressing the last word as his right eyebrow raised slightly, and his entire body seemed to 'tilt' to the right for a moment, revealing his left arm before the elbow, the whole of the forearm and hand still hidden behind. Roman's one good eye had narrowed into a glare at the young man's free embrace of sarcasm. But more importantly, moved to his partially revealed left arm, looking at it for a moment as he changed his focus… This sarcastic brat was hiding something, maybe a gun. He might have been here to off him. But then again, if Roman was an assassin and unsure of his target, he'd just kill everyone he came across in the cells for thoroughness sake. Still, he might just be trying to confirm identity before prepping to kill… Roman needed to be ready in case this kid was here to end his dashing and utterly magnificent existence.
However Roman didn't show his thought process, didn't show that he even considered the possibility that this black-suited kid could be a threat to him. Instead he gave a cocky grin and leaned back, raising his hands from his knees palm up with a, 'really' look to his eye and proceeded to vocalize the look.
"Really kid? Those peepers of yours blind? Cause I've been on the top of the VPD wanted list for months now, my face's been plastered all over town! If you haven't seen this devilish mug, you just haven't been paying attention." He spoke, smirking wider as he leaned forward, his hands moving to his knees again. The male at the door raised his right eyebrow a little further, but didn't seem to react otherwise.
"I've been living under a rock actually. It's very uncomfortable, I don't recommend it." He stated dryly, keeping his expression unchanging.
"Now at the risk of sounding repetitive, please… who are you?" He asked, a little more politely this time. Roman blinked… then let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eye and leaning back.
"Fine fine, the name's Roman Torchwick. That ring a bell? Of course it does. Well sorry, I don't do autographs. Though if you get me out of this cell, I'll consider making an exception." He spoke, raising his right hand up and pointing back with his thumb to the cell in question.
"Hm. Guess it's my lucky day then." Stated the young man, still dry as ever, moving his left arm from behind the door and… somehow managing to keep his tilt. But that was less important to Roman than what his left gloved hand had been holding, namely, Melodic Cudgel with Roman's prized bowler hat placed neatly on top of the handle.
Roman actually blinked, slightly surprised as the young man offered it forward. While offering the criminal mastermind his standard apparel and weapon, the newcomer also moved his right hand up to his own fedora and plucked it from his head, before bringing it down to his chest and placing it over his heart.
"Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Alabaster Flatly. And I have been hired by one Miss Neopolitan to see to your escape. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Torchwick, and I am at your service." He spoke, bowing his head forward slightly, sarcasm fully replaced with manners. Roman blinked again, then shook his head a bit and smirked, for real this time, standing up and reaching with his right hand to take his beloved weapon cane from this Alabaster's hand.
"Well it's about time!" He spoke with jubilation, most of his vexation now replaced with a mixture of relief and pleasure as he took his bowler hat from the top of the Melodic Cudgel and placed it atop his head, standing up to get out as Alabaster 'leaned' back, and stepped away, letting Roman extricate himself from the cell. As Roman exited the cramped conditions, he almost immediately stood straight and leaned back, moving his left hand to his spine as he raised his right high up, pointing his cane to the ceiling as he let out an audible-
"Aaahhh, ahhh, aaaah." of relief, stretching his muscles.
"Ahhhhhh yes! In the name of DUST that feels good…" he muttered, lowering his arms and shaking them out slightly, then turning his head side to side as he loosened up his neck to, just savoring his sudden ability to move in a space more than a few feet wide.
"Agh, mm, there we go, oh that hits the spot, the only thing that could make this better is-" Started Roman, before stopping as he turned his head to see Alabaster holding out a cigar… one of his SPECIAL, pumpkin blend cigars, in his right hand, bowing forward slightly to present it to the crime lord. Roman blinked, then slowly moved his Melodic Cudgel into his left hand, and reached with his right to take the cigar from Alabaster's fingers. With the physical contact assuring him that it was real, he moved it up to his lips and placed it between.
As he did so Alabaster stepped forward, brought his left hand around, and calmly held up Roman's lighter, moving his thumb to 'FLICK' it open and lit, letting the orange flame come up to touch the end of Roman's cigar. Roman closed his eye as the fire lit the end of his drug of choice, letting him taste the flavor, savor the Ash as it began to drift into his being and out from the end, helping to empower his Aura… Once the cigar was lit, Alabaster calmly 'FLICK'-ed it closed, and then offered it, palm-up to Roman. It didn't take Roman a moment to snatch his lighter out of Alabaster's hand, and just hold it for a moment, staring at his treasured lighter… before looking back up to Alabaster.
"… Well, as first impressions go, this is the best one I've had in a while now." He spoke, nodding his ascent as he moved the lighter down into his pockets, sucking on the end of his cigar and rolling it to the left side of his mouth, taking in its flavor… OH that was good. Alabaster smirked a bit at the positive reception, then stepped back, before letting his face go neutral.
"I'm glad you think so. Now pardon my presumption, however it would be best to exit this area and make our way to the bridge." He stated simply starting to turn to walk away before Roman quickly THREW his right hand up, palm out in a stop pattern, and rapidly spoke-
"Whoa whoa whoa there, hold your horses there Al." Causing Alabaster's right eye to 'twitch' slightly at the word 'Al' as Roman moved his right hand back down, turning to face this suited character with his cane in his left hand, leaning on it as he looked up at his deliverer.
"Look kid, I'm grateful for the early release and all, but I'm not exactly going anywhere until someone tells me what the HECK is going on!? Where's Cinder? Or where's Neo for that matter, why'd she need to hire you? And where are the guards, actually, not seeing many bodies here whitey want to explain how you got to me so easily?" He asked, gesturing about with his right hand to indicate the lack of Atlas soldiers, conscious or otherwise.
Alabaster raised his right eyebrow slightly as Roman tied up his questioning spiel.
"I have no idea who Cinder is." He stated succinctly, causing Roman to blink in surprise and then furrow his own brows in return… Neo… hired someone without Cinder's go ahead? What the f-
"As for Miss Neopolitan, she didn't give me her reasoning. She simple gave me my objective, promised payment, and transported me onto the ship. Afterwards she left, and I do not know where or why… She doesn't exactly talk much." Spoke Alabaster, still succinctly and politely, before turning his gaze over towards the large window at the end of the cell hallway.
"However, as to the matter of the soldiers, or lack thereof…" he spoke, before letting the sentence peter off and raising his right hand gesture, palm up, towards the window. Roman looked at it with a raised eyebrow, then back to him, then back to the window with a-
"Ugh." Of annoyance, and turned to start grumpily walking over towards the window, putting a good deal of weight on his cane since his legs were still sore. Why couldn't the man just answer a simple question instead of being all cryptic and making him walk for the answer?! Was it that hard to say 'hey, they all decided to go get drunk at the local bar' or 'they took a holiday for the Vytal festival' or something? As Roman internally grumbled and got closer to the glass, eye glaring towards the window to see what the pale brat had motioned for him to see, his pace slowed… and then slowed some more… and finally he stopped altogether, as he came to be standing in front of the window to the outside world, staring out, with his mouth slightly opened and eye wide.
Vale was on fire. Smoke rose up in plumes. A line of giant, elephant-like Goliath Grimm walked through the city, roaring and trumpeting as they pounded the works of man beneath their feet. Colored explosions of dust, ice magic and fire, wind and lightning, shown as tiny bursting specks of light throughout the city as a battle raged far below the airship, black dots swarming wherever the smoke didn't block, new fires breaking out all over the city…
"They're a bit busy at the moment." Finished Alabaster, walking up calmly to stand slightly over Roman's right shoulder, looking down to the scene below as well. As he finished, a pair of Atlesian gunships flew into sight some distance away from the window, weapons pointed down and firing fast, cylindrical barrels rotating as they hurled flaring tracer-lined bullets onto the Grimm below. A moment later, a-
"SSSCCCRRRAAAAWWWWW!" was heard, as a Giant Nevermore SMASHED through them both at once, sending the gunships hurtling out of the sky, torn apart, one bursting into flames on the way down as the Giant Nevermore rose up and out of sight, victorious in its pursuit of destruction, and searching for more prey to annihilate.
"Welcome to the new world Mister Torchwick. I hope it suits your tastes." Continued Alabaster calmly, seemingly unphased by the events playing out in front of him. Roman Torchwick's jaw widened slightly. His cigar fell out and hit the floor, end snuffing out as the ash spilled on the ground, and an entire Kingdom died below…