Breaking the Silence: a Torchick/Neo story
Expect the unexpected, his father had always told him. Roman Torchwick always hated this expression, as it seemed contradictory and trite. Then both his parents died senselessly – and he grew to hate it more. Still, keeping in mind the possible outcomes of any given situation had kept him on his toes, kept him alert, kept him alive. That was what mattered on the cruel streets of Vale.
Vale had been anything but kind to him since the day he'd found himself on his own, shortly after his tenth birthday. It wasn't an easy city to navigate alone as an adult, to say nothing of doing so as a spoiled, sheltered child. He had been forced to grow up fast, in the five years that followed, but Roman liked to believe that this was what had made him into the expert thief that he was. The Torchwick School of Hard Knocks had served him well, indeed. Truth be told, he had carved out a decent living for himself, in Vale – living off his ill-gotten spoils.
Entering the downtown market, Roman took in his surroundings. The everyday hustle and bustle that was the merchants haggling with their customers, beggars asking for handouts, and children playing wild games of tag, all jammed together on the main street that housed the merchant stalls. This was his home. These were his people.
Well, most of them, anyway.
As a wealthy looking man walked passed, Roman quickly wove into the crowd, dipped his hand in the man's pocket, fished out his wallet, and slipped out of the crowd again. The wallet felt heavy in his hand and he grinned. He would eat like a king tonight.
"Roman."
The voice momentarily caught him off-guard, and he quickly shoved the wallet into the pocket of his jacket. In a split second, though, the owner of the voice registered and Roman turned, with a sly grin. "Windy. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The green-haired fauness stood with one hand on her hip. Her gold eyes flashed with a playful glint, and her mouth was turned up in a half-smirk. "Still thinking small, I see. Simple pick-pocketing is a bit beneath you, don't you think?"
Roman grit his teeth. Windy was a well-known fauness in the circles of petty crime, though not well-liked. Her game was information, and no one's secrets were safe. He had always thought it best to avoid her, but she was like that pesky mosquito that just wouldn't go away. He had a sinking suspicion that she had a bit of a thing for him – affection that he did his best to discourage. For someone who dealt in intel, though, she was particularly dense in that territory.
"Word is, you managed to disarm an Artemis security system in under five minutes. The Franklin Dust Shoppe robbery."
Roman shrugged noncommittally. "Who's wanting to know?"
Windy stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, the expression making her face take on a juvenile quality. "Just me."
He allowed himself a small grin and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, beginning to walk again. "I can neither confirm nor deny it, Win. You know the drill."
The pout was immediately replaced with a grin. "What if there's something in it for you? Something big." She put emphasis on the final word and stepped closer in a conspiratorial gesture, eyes glittering with excitement.
His interest piqued, Roman stopped in his tracks and turned back toward her with a sardonic smile on his face.
"Ah, there's your patented #1 smirk. Interested, I take it?"
"First of all, I'll have you know that this is my solid #2 smirk, and if I wasn't interested, I'd be gone by now. But I'd start talking quick, dearie, or my interest might evaporate." He made his tone playful, with a bit of an edge to it. If Windy had beneficial information and was willing to share, he wanted it. But if she was fabricating something to get close to him, he was less inclined to stick around.
"It seems someone has taken notice of your latest endeavor and might be interested in enlisting your services. They want you on their team."
Roman sniffed with disdain and shoved his hands back in his pockets. "Forget it. I'm not much of a team player. You know that."
"Not even for the Third Eye?"
Roman stopped in his tracks. The Third Eye were something of an urban legend. No one really knew whether they existed or not. But whenever a particularly impossible heist was pulled, the whispers would start up about the rumored crew. No one knew anything about them. How many people were in the crew, what they looked like, their methods, if they even really existed. They were a mystery.
"The Third Eye is a myth. A bedtime story."
"Or maybe they're not. If you're interested, just say the word and I can set something up."
Roman stood there, considering. Someone brushed by him and he barely moved. He normally didn't play well with others but The Third Eye could be an opportunity of a lifetime. He finally let out a pent up sigh and met Windy's excited gaze. "Set it up, Win. That is, if this is for real."
Windy's face lit up with a smile that usually meant trouble. "You won't regret this. You'll have to tell me everything!"
Roman shrugged but silently made a mental note not to tell her a damn thing.