Author's note: Hello , and welcome to my first story. I won't take up too much of your time with the note, but I will give a brief rundown of what you're about to experience. This story takes place from before the series starts (fifteen years back in fact, since I'm just assuming Neo's 21) until… well, I haven't actually thought that far out yet. It tells not only Neo's origins but her path and drive to avenge her friend… you guessed it, Roman Torchwick. Without further ado, let us begin…
Chapter 1: New name, new start
Some people always had a hopeful outlook on life. One where, at the end of the day, the sun was always shining, the birds were always singing, and life was a big bowl of cherries.
The girl in the alley, was not one of those people.
She didn't know why she was in the alley, it was just all she knew. To her, it was like trying to explain how she sneezed, she knew she did it, but she had no clue how she did it, or why. Was she abandoned as a child? Where her parents murdered and her a not-so-lucky survivor? Was she abducted by aliens and placed here? As unlikely as any of these scenarios may be, to the girl in the alley, none of it mattered. She trudged along, one day at a time, her feet dragging in the knee-deep muck and grime that always seemed to occupy her little home. Her pink and brown hair was matted together with the same grime that made her skin crawl, and her clothes, if she could call them that, scratch and cling to her like an angry grimm.
Her eyes were always brown, even though she knew she could change them if she tried. They changed with her mood, and her mood was almost always sad, tired, or defeated. Her clothes themselves were really just a stiff, scratchy brown material that, although she didn't know it, was actually what had once been a burlap sack. To this girl, shoes, pants, socks, even underwear, none of them existed. The only clothing she had was the sack she'd macgyvered into clothes. The small rope around her thin waist was really the only thing keeping the sack on her frail body. If anyone were to remove the sack, they'd find that they could easily count the poor girl's ribs. This girl had nothing, nothing but the rope around her waist and the sack she used for clothing. Nothing, not even a name.
The girl had never known what her name was, only that she once had a guardian angel in a way, one that protected her, if only till she could walk and fend for herself. She never saw this angel per-say, but rather, felt their presence in the bits and scraps she found. When she was young she'd fall asleep in a soiled diaper and wake up in a somewhat fresh one. Though, that angel had apparently flown away, since the girl had just been getting worse and worse. You'd think that she'd get some sympathy from passers by, maybe even from the other homeless that wandered the streets. Well, it was actually quite the opposite. The bruises on her arms and legs didn't get there on their own. Among the homeless and outcasts of Vale, those that were just trying to get by, most of them faunus, there was a group that everyone knew and feared. Their name, was the Tough Guys.
They weren't original with their name, but no-one really cared. They came up to homeless people, stealing whatever money, food, sometimes even clothes they had. They'd usually beat them up for good measure, and the poor girl in the alley was no exception. She'd suffered countless beatings, but they'd been smart, so very smart in how they played their horrid game. They'd beat her up, but never enough that she couldn't heal on her own. They'd bruise her, but never cut her. They were smart, sadistic, and just downright despicable to many. To the girl though, they seemed especially cruel. Maybe they found her an easy target, maybe kids could make more money by begging, or maybe they thought she was weird for her looks. She didn't know, and she didn't care. She learned a quick set of rules for how to survive in the horrible little place she had to call home.
First, eat any food that came by her, and eat it fast. Otherwise the rats or the Tough Guys would get it. Two, sleep in high places, like the vents, where the Tough Guys wouldn't think to look. Three, be a light sleeper, so that if they showed up, she could just run, or hide. Lastly, know when to give up. She'd become good at determining when she should run, when she should fight, and when she should give in. That fight or flight response was her lifeline on the street. She lived like a coward, constantly in fear of what was coming, and constantly wanting to do something, but too afraid. She craved a better life, she craved more food in her belly, she craved anything, anything but what she already had.
So she was shocked when a beating from the Tough Guys turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to her.
Roman Torchwick was a young criminal, barely known on the streets, still doing odd jobs for some of the more well-known bosses around town, maybe sticking up a convenience store once in awhile. He had his go to weapon, his cane, on hand at all times, ready for a brawl at the drop of a hat, his bowler one more specifically. He was walking around the dingy part of the city, spinning around his cane as he looked around. "This place is always dirty. Why am I here again?" he thought to himself. The answer, he didn't really know. Normally his walks back to his hideaway consisted of a stroll through a more wealthy neighborhood, a nice little walk where he could make some spare change fishing wallets out of pockets. "How stupid can you be to carry so much lien on you?" he muttered with a sly grin before reaching into his black overcoat pocket, pulling out a wallet he'd just pilfered. The contents of which were surprisingly valuable to the young thief. Almost five-hundred lien.
Meanwhile, just a few blocks from Roman, was the little girl in the alley, cornered against the wall by a group of thugs, the Tough Guys logo, which was just a flexed bicep with a T on it, tattooed on their shoulders. "Come on little girl, just give us the goods and make this easy on yourself." one of them said, a sly grin painted on his face as he reached for the moldy loaf of bread the girl was holding. The girl jumped back, pressing herself against the wall as she hugged the loaf to herself, her body suddenly seized with shaking from the fear of defying the three thugs. Now, normally she'd have given in, but as the girl hadn't eaten in so long, her instincts had started to take over. The two on the sides walked forwards, their faces masked in shadows. To the girls though, they were the masks of monsters. "Well well, looks like our little girl decided to fight back. Hehe, teach her a lesson boys." the one in the back said, snapping as the shadow-masked men smirked, grabbing their weapons of choice from their backs. Those weapons of choice? Crowbars.
The girl didn't wait, dashing towards the one in the center without hesitation, her only thoughts on escape. "No ya don't!" the one on the left said, swinging his crowbar around. The girl only knew a sudden sense of breathlessness, her eyes widening as her momentum was suddenly stopped dead in it's tracks, her lower half flying up as the crowbar sent her neck rocketing into the trash pile beneath her. She tried to speak, but only a hoarse whimper came out. She tried to breath, but felt only an excruciating burn down the back of her throat. Once again, she'd had something taken from her. This time, it was her voice. She tried to stand on shaky limbs, but a quick boot to the side sent her sprawling back to the ground, her arms unconsciously wrapping around her aching midriff. "Don't sleep now girly. The fun's just gettin' started." the one that seemed to be leader said as he grabbed his own tool of choice. A small jug, with a name the girl couldn't read. To the man though, he could tell it said 'Bleach'.
The thug walked up to her, smirking as he gripped around her neck, hoisting her up and slamming her back against the wall, a small cry of pain coming from the girl. The two thugs on the side smirked, "You whitin' her out boss?" they asked at once, both of their smirks getting wider. The 'boss' nodded, "Oh yeah. Let's see how you like bein' albino." he said before he uncapped the jug, turning it over as a small bit poured onto the girl's head. "OOF!" the man said as he swung his jug of bleach back, a bit of pain in his stomach from the girls kick. He scowled when he saw that his bleach, the way to identify the fighters, had simply gotten a few strands of her hair. He set the girl down, rearing back his left leg, "Let's see you do that again." he said as he swung his leg forward. Unfortunately, her desperate kick had taken almost all the fight out of the girl, so she just sat there, motionless, as the tip of his boot made contact with her sternum.
From in front of the alley, Roman heard the commotion, "Another homeless beat down. Not my problem." he thought, at least, before he actually saw who they were beating down. "STOP!" the word carried through the alley, causing everyone to turn towards the source, surprised. Roman more than anyone, as he found the voice that had called was his own. "The heck you doin' here?" the leader said, flicking out a switchblade. Roman found himself speaking, not even by his consent, a strange new emotion engulfing him. "Why are you hurting this defenseless girl!?" he yelled. The other man scowled at Roman, "None of your business. Get off our turf, or you gonna get hurt real bad." the thug said, flicking his switchblade. At this point, Roman found that he actually could control himself. He could've left it alone, let the girl deal with her own problems.
"GAH!" the lead thug said as he was pelted into the nearby wall, Roman's cane on the back of his head. "Of all the days to take up chivalry…" he thought to himself was he flipped the cane around, firing the hook end towards one of the stunned thugs, hooking around his neck. The thug was sent flying at Roman, but rather then hit the idiot, he simply stepped aside, allowing the man to fly back onto the street. He spun his cane around, a cockney smirk on his face as he aimed his cane at the last thug. "Your move punk." he said. The thug didn't hesitate, turning around to run, only to run face-first into a wall. "Didn't think that through…" the thug groaned before peeling off the wall, falling into the nearby pile of trash.
Roman walked up to the girl, her noiselessly coughing into her hand, tears stinging her eyes. "Hey, kid." he said, setting his cane back on the ground. The girl looked up, her wide brown eyes fearful of the man. She tried to stand, but only fell back onto her rear. She settled for scooting back with her hands, back against the wall. "Calm down, I won't hurt you. These men aren't a threat. Though I'd suggest finding a new alley." he said, looking distastefully at the unconscious figures. The girl looked around, reaching her hand up and grabbing onto a nearby trashcan, pulling herself upright. She looked around, finding that what the mysterious stranger had said was true. Then, she did something she'd only done once or twice in her life.
She smiled.
She shakily walked over to the man, the top of her head only reaching up to his mid-thigh, and wrapped her arms around his legs. "Thank you." the girl thought, still having a hard time breathing, let alone speaking. For Roman, it was bittersweet. On one hand, he was being thanked by someone instead of cursed out by them for a change. On the other hand, this girl was rather dirty, and was probably getting it over his pants. "Heh, cute kid…" he muttered to himself as he moved down a hand, rubbing it over the girl's head. When he pulled his hand back, he found that he was dragging a few strands of her hair with it, them clinging to his clean hand. He looked down, finding that his normally clean hand was now covered in visible grime. He leaned down, taking a small sniff near the girl's head.
He pulled back, holding his nose. "Oh my- ,kid when was the last time you had a bath!?" he exclaimed, trying to wave away the offending stench with his other hand. The little girl just looked up to him, tilting her head slightly, blinking twice as, for the first time in a while, her left eye turned white, her right becoming pale pink. Roman shrugged, "Don't know what that is do you?" he asked. The girl shook her head, her locks brushing against the mans trousers. He sighed, reaching down and picking the girl up, her leaning against his black overcoat. "Eh, the thing's old anyway." he thought. In truth, Roman had been looking to get a new one, but just hadn't found the right look. As Roman was walking out towards the only exit of the alley, the lead thug stood up again, deciding to block the path. Instead of a switchblade though, he held only his bleach jug. "It may not be me, but someone takes out white targets!" he yelled as he threw the bleach.
Roman didn't even have to think, turning around and arching his back as he felt the cold splatter of the bleach on his back, a small bit of it even hitting against the nearby wall. He turned around, revealing the thug to be nowhere in sight. Roman sighed, "This kid better be worth the trouble of losing my coat." he thought as he started walking forwards, looking down at the girl in his arms as he did so. For the first time, Roman noted how she looked. Her strands of pink, brown, and now white hair clinging to her skin, almost hiding her nearly hollow cheeks. There were bags under her eyes, sunken in from a combination of malnutrition, dehydration, and likely a lack of sleep. There were bruises almost everywhere on her body. Some new, some old, but they were all in places where it would hurt. Her arms and legs were both thin and scrawny, small enough that Roman could tell they wouldn't do any serious damage to anyone on their own. When Roman turned his attention back to her eyes, he found that they were drooping, her head leaning against his chest before they slowly slipped shut. "Sleep easy kid, I'll figure somethin' out soon." Roman muttered, that same, strange emotion filling him as he began the walk to his hideout.
After what was likely a thirty minute walk through the bad part of Vale, Roman finally arrived back at his hideaway. "Home sweet home." he said to no-one in particular as he looked up at the place. To the untrained eye, it looked like any other club in the city, run by a man that went by the name of Junior. And it was a club, but that wasn't all it was. Above the club there were apartments, one of which belonged to Roman himself, one to the club's owner, and two others that were currently vacant, the last 'tenants' having moved out. Roman walked up the steps to the door, the bouncer lowering his sunglasses a bit in surprise, about to speak when Roman held a finger to his lips. "Shh." he said, smiling slightly. The man nodded, "Go on in, club's closed now, should be nice and quiet." he said. Roman gave him a curt nod in thanks, walking past as the man went back to his normal stance, his legs a bit spread with his hands cupped in each other.
Roman pushed open the large doors with his right hand. "Hey Roman. Weird, normally you'd announce your welcome. What's differ- wait who's the kid?" Junior asked. The man was dressed in a white longsleeve shirt, a black vest buttoned up over top of it, hiding the bottom half of his bright red tie. On his hands there were black gloves, one of them being removed as the man cleaned his glasses, likely nearly unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Roman Torchwick, the ambitious criminal with plans to rule the criminal underground, holding a sleeping child like he was a father? It just didn't add up to him. "Don't know. Some of those stupid Tough Guy goons were giving her a beat-down, so I got rid of them and she sort of fell asleep. Ruined my coat to." Roman said, turning around and pointing to the large white stain on the back of his coat.
Junior raised an eyebrow, "Why did you help her? You've walked past plenty of homeless beatdowns before." he said, scratching at the beginning of a chin-strap he had. Roman shrugged, looking down at the sleeping child, "I don't really know myself. I was about to walk past when I saw her and I… sort of lost it…" Roman said, his eyes filled with conflicting emotions. He'd walked past plenty of homeless beatings by the same gang. They'd been people younger than her, they'd been females, they'd been faunus, and every last one he'd just walked past. So why did he stop to help her?
Hei Xiong, or 'Junior' as everyone called him, could tell at a glance exactly why Roman had helped the girl. Call it an old bartending talent, maybe from dealing with people like Roman for what was going on five years now, being as he was nearing his twenty-fifth birthday, but he knew. From the way Roman carried the kid, to the way he talked about her, even the way he looked at her. "Bout time he found someone to care about, 'sides himself that is." he thought with a tired smile. Junior knew well enough the look a parent gives their child, after all, he'd done it to his own a hundred times before… everything happened. And right now, Roman Torchwick, the most ambitious thief in all of Remnant, had that look on his face. He had defended that girl, and no matter how much he may try and downplay it, he fought for her with a ferocity only a parent could know.
"What's her name?" Junior asked. Roman shrugged, "She fell asleep before I could ask. We'll see later. Right now I've got to go make a call." he said, a small shiver running up his spine. "Who exactly do you plan on calling?" Junior asked, walking over behind his bar and grabbing a dirty glass. Cleaning always did help him collect his thoughts. Roman turned away, walking towards the hidden staircase he knew led to the apartments above. "Someone that knows what they're doing." he said. Junior was left staring after the man in his bleach-stained coat. He chuckled, "Guess I need to get rid of that other apartment rental." he said as he set down the glass, reaching beneath his counter for his bottle of Mistralean wine, something he almost always used to wind down after a stressful day's work.
Roman walked up the stairs, pushing open the door to the apartments as he always did, smiling a bit at the sight. There were four doors in the hall, each of them with different numbers on them. 007, his own, was at the far end of the hall. He walked towards it, passing 004, 005,and 006 before finally reaching his apartment. He switched his grip on the sleeping girl, cradling her in his left arm before fishing in his pocket for his keys. After a few moments of shifting through it's contents, he finally felt the tip of something metal. "There we are." he said in quiet triumph, not wanting to wake up the sleeping girl. He pulled out his keys and quickly twisted them in the lock, pushing open the door. He took a breath, smiling as he smelt the familiar scent of roses, the cause of which not being flowers, but rather the air freshener plugged into the wall.
He walked in, shutting the door behind him as he looked around the room. The room itself was actually a pretty standard apartment. There was a small kitchen area, consisting of a mini-fridge and a microwave, a few cabinets meant for storage that were, most likely, empty. Past the small area of kitchen there was a bit of a living room, a small television, couch, and coffee table all that really occupied it. To his right was the bedroom, having a bed, obviously, and an end table, along with two doors. One of them lead to a closet, the other, the bathroom. Roman took off his hat, setting it on the coat rack to the right of the door. "Might want to give her a bath before I set the coat away." he thought to himself as he walked through the already open bedroom door. "I've really gotta stop leaving that open." he thought to himself.
He opened the door to the bathroom, shutting it behind him as he set the girl down on the rug, as gently as he could. He placed his right hand on the side of her face, lightly patting her, "Wake up kid." he said simply. Of course, this yielded almost no results, the girl only lightly turning on her side. Romans sighed, "Okay then, looks like I'm bathing you myself." he muttered as he reached for the somewhat tattered rope around her waist. It came away surprisingly easy, nearly crumbling in his grip. "How long has she had this?" Roman wondered. He looked back at the girl, lightly pulling on the sides of her outfit, it coming away in pieces, leaving her laying on top of it. Roman looked at the clothing, flipping it over. "'Atlesian potato farms'? Okay, that explains a bit." ht thought to himself as he turned around, turning on the water and plugging the drain.
Once the tub was nearly full, enough that he was fairly certain the girl wouldn't drown, he picked her up, setting her inside. Almost immediately the water began turning brown, spreading for a few moments. "This is gonna take a while…" Roman thought as he rolled back his sleeves, unplugging the drain and letting the dirty water drain out. Roman immediately started running another bath.
After another two attempts, Roman decided on something else. "Let's just give you a shower instead." he muttered to himself as he pulled down on the tub's faucet, the overhead shower coming on. Roman stood, reaching up and setting the shower to it's gentlest setting, where it simply release a flow of water downwards, the 'waterfall' setting as Roman called it. He rolled up both sleeves this time, holding the girl beneath the waterfall… other than her head of course. "I'm gonna need more kid friendly soap." he thought as he started washing off the tiny girl's body with a normal piece of soap. After maybe ten minutes of scrubbing away at the grime on the girl, Roman was finally able to see that her actual skin tone was much closer to pale white than he'd expected. "That's her body clean, now for her hair." he thought.
After another ten minutes of scrubbing at her hair, Roman was finally able to get it clean. Though, unfortunately, it seemed the white streaks made by the bleach were there to stay. "Well, it's not that noticeable at least." he thought to himself as he set the girl down on his bed. He sighed as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his scroll, "I can't believe I'm actually doing this…" he muttered to himself as he dialed the familiar number, holding it up to his ear. After three rings the person on the other end picked up, "Hello?" Roman said. The person on the other end sighed, "Roman, what have I told you? We're through. Now stop calling me!" they said. Roman nodded, despite knowing she couldn't see him. "Look Bella I know, this isn't about me. I found someone hurt and I need someone with medical experience, you're the only one I can trust about this." he said. The person on the other end seemed to mull it over, "Where are you?" she asked. Roman smiled, "At my place, above the club."
During this phone call between Roman and his ex, the girl opened her eyes. "Where am I? What's that smell?" she thought to herself as she pushed herself upright. She looked around, seeing walls that weren't made of brick, but rather some strange, beige material. She wasn't sleeping on her old, ratty mattress, but rather a larger and more comfortable one, covered with some kind of strange cloth. Her clothes were nowhere to be found, but the layers of grime and stench that normally clung to her body were gone, replaced with smooth, white skin she didn't even know she had. She reached her hands up, moving strands of her hair around, finding that, rather than clinging together like normal, they separated and fell around her face. She raised her arm up, sniffing to find that it was her that smelled good, rather than something around her as was normally the case. She moved around, grabbing the table nearby and trying to get off the mattress, only for pain to shoot up her body.
She fell to the ground, breathing in every few seconds, trying not to breath too deeply, as every breath hurt her. She looked up, seeing a large, white stain on an otherwise black coat, the very man that saved her. Speaking of, the man turned around, pressing a button on a strange device in his hand. "Might not wanna get up for a while. They hurt you pretty badly." he said. "This is nothing for me." the girl thought to herself as she tried to stand, grunting with effort as she held onto the bed, walking maybe two steps on shaky legs before the man walked over, picking her up and laying her on the bed. "Well, it'll be a while before Bella gets here, so we may as well get acquainted. Name's Roman Torchwick, what's your's kid?" he asked. The girl opened her mouth, about to say how she didn't have a name, only for a hoarse whisper to come out, her grabbing at her throat in pain.
Roman nodded, "I see, must've hurt your windpipe or something. Hold on a minute." he said as he walked out of the room. He walked over to one of the kitchen drawers, pulling out a small notepad and a pen. "Here's hoping she can write." the young thief thought to himself as he walked back in the room. The girl eyed him with white eyes, backing up slightly on the bed as he sat down, placing the pen and pad in front of her. "Go on, write your name." he said. The girl nodded, grabbing the pencil in one fist and moving the pencil in random directions. Until she held up the paper. What was on the paper was illegible chicken scratch. "Of course… gotta think of something…" Roman thought as he stood, removing his coat and examining the back of it. "Huh, kind of like that white look actually…" he thought to himself before tossing it on the floor.
He turned to the girl, rolling down the sleeves on his gray undershirt. "Okay, you can't talk or right and, going by assumption, you can't read either. So, I'll ask you questions and you'll nod or shake your head, okay? Nod if you understand." he said. The girl nodded. "Okay, first, do you know where your parents are?" he asked. The girl shook her head. "Okay, second, do you know your name?" he asked, hoping to get somewhere with the girl. Another head shake. "Alright, did you forget your name?" he asked. Another shake. "Do you not have a name?" Roman asked somewhat sarcastically. So you can imagine his surprise when she nodded yes. "Oh, well that… changes things. Ok, had you been in that alley your whole life?" he asked. Another nod. "Okay, listen kid. I have a friend of mine coming over to see if there's anything wrong with you, then… we'll go from there." he said.
The girl nodded, but then suddenly started coughing, her hands flying up to her throat. "Does your throat hurt?" he asked. The girl nodded, a few tears at the corners of her eyes as she squeezed them shut. Roman nodded, standing up and walking out of the room. "Sore throat, sore throat, what the heck is good for that?" he thought to himself as he walked into the kitchen, opening up the fridge. Milk, carrots, alcohol… "Odd, maybe this'll work." he thought as he pulled out a tub of ice cream. He opened it, seeing that underneath the frozen label there was likely the word "Neapolitan". He shrugged as he shut the fridge, setting down the ice cream on the table and grabbing a scoop from the utensil drawer and turning the sink on, making sure the tap was set to hot water. As he waited for it to heat up, Roman grabbed the now opened container, scraping the side of it, which was covered in frost, enough to where it revealed the whole thing. Oddly enough, the letters were a bit faded, so much that the name looked closer to 'Neopolitan' than Neapolitan.
After a few moments Roman touched the faucet, jerking back at the heat. "Okay, definitely hot enough." he thought to himself as he grabbed the scoop, running it under the water for a few seconds before turning the water off, drying the scoop and grabbing a styrofoam bowl, along with a plastic spoon as an afterthought. He scooped a bit of each of the three ice creams into the bowl, stuck the plastic spoon in the side, and stuffed the container back into the fridge. He walked back into the bedroom, finding the small girl randomly moving her pencil around one of the notepads, making random lines until she seemed to notice Roman. She sat back upright, tilting her head and pointing at the bowl in his hands. "This is called 'ice cream', it should help your throat." he said as he set the bowl down.
The girl looked at the strange substance, as well as the strange object stuck in the side of it, and looked back up to Roman, her eyes flashing pink. Roman picked up the strange object, holding it up, "This is called a spoon, you use it to eat the ice cream, like this." he said as he dug a small bit of the vanilla part, placing it in his mouth. He took it out and spun the spoon around, giving her the handle. She grabbed it, doing exactly as Roman had done, taking a small bit of the ice cream on the edge of the spoon. She shut her eyes as she quickly wrapped her lips around it, expecting a horrible taste. What she got, on the other hand, quickly changed her mind. She seemed to lose control as she started grabbing more and more it in spoonfuls, eating it as fast as she could. That is, until she bit into the ice cream.
The girl froze up, grabbing at her mouth as she dropped the spoon, shutting her eyes as she tried to block out the intense feeling of cold pain. Roman chuckled, "Yeah, that's called 'brain freeze', you aren't in a race, eat it slowly." he said while placing a hand on her shoulder. The girl had to admit, the cool treat did ease the searing pain of her throat whenever she took a breath. She continued eating until the bowl was empty, holding it out with wide eyes and a small smile, as if asking for more. Roman chuckled as he took the bowl, "You sure do like ice cream." he muttered to himself as he walked towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing the tub of ice cream. "May as well bring the whole thing, this girl looks like she'll need it." he thought.
When he walked back in with the tub, setting it down in front of the girl, she went in. Shoveling it into her mouth as fast as she could, while still avoiding brain freeze that is. Roman smiled as he watched her, that same strange feeling stirring in his chest as he watched her eating ice cream. "Well… if you haven't got a name, I guess we need to give you one huh?" he said. The girl looked up, her eyes vaguely interested in Roman, but clearly more interested in the ice cream beneath her, as well as the fair amount of it that had splattered onto her chin, slowly dripping down her naked body. Roman chuckled as he reached into his pocket, grabbing out a small handkerchief and wiping the girl's face with it, her involuntarily shutting her eyes as he did so. Roman looked around, "What'd be a good name for her?" he thought. The girl shrugged as she continued eating. That's when it hit him. "How about Neopolitan?" Roman asked. The girl looked up, her eyes sparkling as she nodded, setting the ice cream to the side. "You like that name?" he asked. The girl didn't answer, instead hugging him, a feeling of cold on Roman's left cheek as he saw the girl nuzzling against it. He chuckled,
"Hehe, Neopolitan Torchwick… has a nice ring to it."