A Glimpse into the Abyss
RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth, and the dearly departed Monty Oum, and any other series or products I may mention are owned by their respective owners and not myself or anyone I happen to know (to the best of my knowledge anyway).
I was also requested to do a story for RWBY by a friend of mine if anybody was wondering.
Anger engulfed his rational thought for a brief moment as he brought Melodic Cudgel over his head for a single strike.
That was when darkness suddenly engulfed him.
Pain, however brief and distant it was, was all he knew for what felt like an eternity.
Roman Torchwick had thought he was dead, or at least that what he thought should be his current predicament. He was however having a lot of difficulty getting his senses focused on his current problem, and his current problem was quite serious.
He remembered being on top of an Atlesian warship fighting off the annoying huntress in training that always showed up whenever he was in the middle of a big job for his temporary business partner. Now none of what previously happened mattered, as he remembered hearing the horrid screech from a Grimm, that Gryphon, just before that maw swallowed him whole and clamped down around his ankles despite his height. His problem now was trying to figure out why he felt like his back was stiff with his head throbbing like he had been on a bender hours before with still present aftereffects, and he was standing in front of a well lit display with a few wires pulled from part of it as they poked through a hole cut into the side of the display's case, and the glass cover had a perfectly round opening where it was cut open.
The problem he was now tackling in his mind was that he didn't know how he was alive, and that his surroundings just didn't make sense when compared to what he remembered doing just seconds before.
His eyes focused on the wood paneled display before of him as specks of light danced in the corner of his vision, and his hearing was slowly returning from being little more than a gentle droning buzz in his ears to the harsh reality of his own breathing and a very silent room with the hum the building's air ventilation kicking in, the room around him had lighting along the walls to illuminate various displays with objects ranging from images of supposedly extinct Grimm to weapons of very famous but long dead Hunters and Huntresses.
There was also a feeling of numbness in his limbs similar to the after effects of having touched a hot surface when the pain had died down, but the feeling disappeared quickly as the rest of his senses were returning to normal. Then of course there was what he saw in his hand after it seemed to catch the dim light just enough to reveal what was there, the Azure Eye. His memory of his first major heists were always a bit fuzzy since he preferred to ignore most of them but the Azure Eye stood out the most as it was his very first attempt at a solo heist from the Vale Museum almost two years ago.
The only problem with the heist was that he remembered failing to leave with the priceless gem due to the untimely intervention of a passing museum security guard on the nightshift, but he remembered all of the research he had done after the Eye itself had caught his interest. His right hand was holding his weapon and constant companion, Melodic Cudgel, against his side and he took comfort in the feeling of having his favorite 'partner in crime' close at hand but soft pangs of worry were still there in his mind.
That was when he felt it, a heat that seemed to emanate from the Azure Eye that spread through his fingers with a rhythmic pulse before a creeping cold sensation seemed to follow in its wake as the Eye itself seemed to look up at him from his grasp, and the slit pupil that was in reality an impossible mixture of many forms of Dust taking on a shifting lavender hue seemed to contract of its own accord despite its crystalline origin born from Dust. Then an unsettling feeling wormed its way into his mind and the way it reached into his psyche like the calming sensation he got from his precious cigars was even worse as his nerves slowly settled into a state of semi-awareness as the sound of footsteps moving across tile floors echoed from somewhere in the building.
He pocketed the Azure Eye as he heard the clacking of shoes on the tile flooring began to sound a lot closer to the room he was in, and soon after hearing those footfalls he was making his way toward what passed for his emergency exit plan, the front door. He had taken the time to shut off the alarms to every part of the museum along with the security measures like the eight inch thick steel security doors set to fall into place once a display was disturbed and the direct connection to the Vale Police Department before he started the heist, but physical things such as locks on doors still needed to be bypassed with a more direct approach but that was why he had Melodic Cudgel.
With a flick of his wrist he had his trusted cane pointed at the door, and with a light squeeze of the trigger mechanism hidden on the handle, a flare-like projectile slammed into the glass before exploding outward in a spectacular red blast that left the glass door as little more than a shattered metal frame with fragments of glass scattered across the finely trimmed lawn and nearly pristine sidewalk. In response he could hear alarms begin to go off as secondary systems sounded from the door breaking contact with a sensor in the doorframe, and the sound of a security door falling into place behind him was plenty of incentive to run and dive through the door that he knew would be covered very quickly if he didn't move.
The security door slammed down behind him with a loud metallic bang and without pause Roman Torchwick felt something was out of place, and that was when he noticed that his hat was no longer on top of his head. Without delay he looked for his hat shortly but thankfully didn't have to look far as it was on the ground behind him, after dusting off his bowler hat and placing it in its proper place atop his head he began to walk away and within minutes he was blending into the late night crowd up the street in the commercial district, and a little later he was almost invisible to the police as they began to filter into the area. The best part of the planning behind the plan he was using relied heavily on the fact that the city of Vale's police department stayed true to their average five minute response time that he had made sure to keep an eye on for every heist he planned which gave him a short, but comfortable buffer of time to get out of what constituted the area the VPD usually put into lockdown, and with the way things were going he could make his way to the waterfront without difficulty by simply catching a ride on the public transit system.
The docks always made Roman Torchwick feel at home, they were cold, poorly lit at night, but most importantly they were quiet right now. The Vale Police Department had a precinct in the docks obviously, but they weren't exactly the brightest or most dedicated protectors of the peace making the entire area a hive of criminal intent. Of course it also made it a very good hiding place because of those factors.
Torchwick lived by a simple code of conduct when it came to criminal enterprise, he'd do whatever he needed to do to survive, and the best way to do that was to remain inconspicuous by any means necessary when it was the best alternative, even if it hadn't stopped him from making a show out of a job before. The Azure Eye's disappearance from the Vale Museum was going to start a fire under a lot of idle police officers, even the less reputable ones taking bribes, and Roman Torchwick knew how to hide from prying eyes. An extra bribe here, a little misdirection there, and several dozen tickets filed on several different flights across a few months made for an excellent diversion if he intended on leaving Vale, granted it would drain what little liquid assets he had but that still left him with the legal assets, but that was what made a criminal great in the eyes of Vale's criminal underground. A man could rob a few dust shops, or knock over a small five and dime store and sell off the loot just to get caught by the local police precinct, however good criminals were able to appear to be upstanding citizens and then make their ill-gotten gains disappear as if they were a restful night's memories of a fading dream.
On the other hand all he had to do was wait in hiding for a few days in his favorite apartment building or hole in the wall to let the heat die down and then make a mad dash to Junior's club to cash in on this heist, and that would have gone a very long way toward securing an early retirement. The only thing he had to do now that he was sitting in the small office he had beneath an abandoned warehouse he owned was to make a call to his most trusted contact to make sure Junior could line up a buyer.
Little did he know that pulling off the theft in the first place was going to be change the course of events beyond what he guessed, as he started to doubt everything that happened to him before he was standing in the museum with the Azure Eye in hand and focused solely on the here and now which was simply survival.
Twelve hours later...
The theft of the Azure Eye was a very high profile event and a lot of phone calls were made by the police, and the press, but the Museum itself wasn't too different since they had to call the owners of many items on loan to their collection to notify them that their contributions were safe, which included the Azure Eye which was of course no longer in their hands. The Azure Eye was perhaps the most important call made since it was made by the Museum curator as a private, and in some ways it was perhaps even a personal call to a young woman that had proven that she was quite brilliant in her own way, but more importantly he wouldn't have been in the position he was without the vote of confidence the Azure Eye's owner had given the Museum.
A pair of chime-like bells rang from a stylized phone on the top of a chocolate colored desk that was highly polished, the papers, books, and assorted knick-knacks surrounding a finely crafted banker's lamp made with a dark blue crystal glass cover. There was a figure standing behind it as the room was barely lit by the lamp's own soft blue glow as a feminine hand picked up the phone and answered with a polite "Hello, this is Violet speaking. Oh Carlisle, it's been so long! How is Vale treat-? Someone stole the Azure Eye? No, don't do anything and I'll take care of it myself, it was my mother's after all. Don't worry Carl, I'll be careful. I'll see you when I get there if you have time."
There was a soft click as "Carlisle" hung up, and there was a louder metallic clack as the phone was thrown across the room and smashed through a wood panel door made from the same chocolate colored wood that was originally native to Mistral. The man in his later forties that opened the door slowly came in with a platter carrying a carafe in hand and originally a pair of porcelain teacups that were now in pieces on the hallway floor. This man was wearing a butler's stereotypical attire consisting of black slacks, matching vest, black leather shoes, and a white dress shirt that screamed that its wearer was a perfectionist with its nearly pristine appearance save for a handful of wrinkles at the man's joints due to holding the tray and carafe. The cultured voice that he spoke with was matched only by the well kept black hair that was beginning to grey at the edges and neatly parted down the middle, the lighting from within the hallway hid his face in shadow but it still allowed him to see the only other occupant in the room with little difficulty.
"Is the phone giving you trouble Miss?"
"Charles, make a call to the airfield and have my private bullhead prepared for immediate departure to Vale."
The butler moved into the room and set the tray onto the desk and offered a tart that was still on the tray as he asked, "I realize that I have no business asking this Miss, but what is so important to have you leave at this hour?"
The figure moved from the shadows that were hiding her face as she stood behind her desk to reveal the mirror image of her sister, but there were noticeable differences. This woman's eyes were inky pools of lavender, her hair was much the same as her sister's save for the purple tips and highlights, but the most notable difference was the warm and almost soothing air about her.
Reaching toward the offered tart she took it in hand and gave the butler a look of annoyance as she relayed the source of her ire.
"I have an heirloom that we need to recover before my errant sister finds out that it's no longer out of her reach."
"I see miss, I will make the call, but is that all you will be needing...?"
"Charles, the Number Six Dust rounds and Nevermore please. I want the flight crew waiting for me on the Angelfish within the hour."
The wary look that crossed Charles' face was one of apprehension and distaste.
"Very well Miss... she wouldn't want the two of you to go down this path you know."
Violet regarded Charles with a distant look in her eyes as she replied, "Mother wouldn't approve of anything my sister has done Charles and I know she wouldn't approve of much of what I've had to do in order to survive before a few years ago Charles, I wish it never came to how my sister has been acting toward me either."
"I understand Miss."
"Charles, I might be the last surviving member of my family aside from my sister, but you have more than earned the right to call me by my name."
"Of course Mi- Violet, I'll try to remember."
With that short sentence Charles the butler left the room with his own cup of tea and made his way toward a room he had hoped to never open again.
Charles walked down flights of stairs, three very long hallways, six short ones, and finally he was at his destination. A large reinforced steel door was all that stood between him and the items his employer requested. A hand against a wall panel later and he was entering a twelve digit combination into a keypad, another button push later and the door clicks open with the protest of strained metal as a four inch thick metal plated bolt released which caused the door to swing open slowly. Inside was a wide variety of items ranging from relics of long dead empires to a variety of art pieces, but perhaps the most important items to his employer were a pair of lacquered boxes made from redwood. One box was perhaps a foot and a half long with six inches for its height and width, the other box was three and a half feet long and had the engraving of a bird in flight with flames beneath it but beneath the engraving was an inscription, "Keep the light of the future from being extinguished. -Annals of Fall as quoted by Scarlet Addams".
Reaching out an unsteady hand Charles and ran his hand across the larger box reverently out of respect for the previous owner of the box's contents before he collected the smaller box along with a small stack of cardboard boxes located behind it that had the Schnee Dust Company's logo along with a multitude of handmade labels made with a neat and angular writing style, but one of the labels stated "13mm Special No. 6 - Frost" in bold lettering with a handmade drawing of a Nevermore with its wings folded for a dive at unseen prey beneath the snowflake logo.
An hour and a half later...
It was cold and bitter with a light mist covering the airfield and the dozens of hangars scattered in neat rows, but only one hangar was currently opened to reveal a Bullhead of private manufacture and ownership slowly taxiing to reach its designated takeoff point, and the italicized wrting that adorned its nose declared that it was called The Angelfish. The actual design of the Bullhead diverged greatly from the normal concept used in the construction of the Bullhead series of aircraft, where the rest were usually made for VTOL with durability in mind, the Angelfish on the other hand was built for aesthetics, rapid acceleration, and aerodynamics that put many other aircraft to shame at the cost of high maintenance costs and a need for a runway of around half a kilometer despite only needing around a hundred meters to actually get off the ground with another fifty to ensure clearing anything over the height of a four story building. The inside was probably the most lavishly designed as well with its engraved cherry wood wall panels and wet bar, its rich purple carpeting, and the eight high quality leather seats in the relatively large and pressurized passenger cabin were very comfortable.
Out of those eight seats there were only two were in use however, one seat held both the small wooden box and the boxes of Number Six Dust rounds sitting open with the seat next to it occupied by Violet in a black dress that was equal parts ornate and functional with split sides for her legs, as well as a low neck cut that exposed nothing but gave plenty for onlookers to admire with what was concealed beneath its snug fit. She was looking at her hands as she held onto the magazine for a weapon, and with each movement of her left hand's fingers there was an audible metallic click following after the soft sound of metal sliding against metal which continued for three minutes as she took her time inspecting each round, and it was after filling three additional magazines that she reached into the neighboring seat and opened the lid to withdraw a pistol that had a slide the size of her upper arm and a handle that fit her hand perfectly, and without delay she slid the magazine into the weapon with a resounding click before racking a round into the chamber and ejecting the magazine to fit a round into the now partially empty magazine to replace the chambered round before sliding it back into the pistol.
Only then did she flick the safety on with a satisfied look of appreciation as she looked at the scrollwork and handmade engraving on the weapon's slide, an inscription saying "Nevermore", and of course the image of a Nevermore's side profile while it was in flight, wings outstretched and talons grasping at unseen prey. The Nevermore's mask was made by etching into the blackened steel slide, and despite its beautifully dark appearance it was indeed a weapon chambered for an unusual caliber round at 13mm making it just as dangerous of a weapon weapon to both enemies due to sheer power and the owner due to recoil if they were unprepared.
Taking a moment to look at the boxes of ammunition she grabbed a fourth and final magazine and began to load it just as slowly as before, and soon she had three fully loaded magazines for her weapon waiting to be carried in whatever she felt like wearing upon landing. In the rear of the cabin toward the center of the aircraft there was a luggage rack holding a single briefcase upright inside with a customs tag already pinned to its handle and a few coats made for obvious luxury in the form of thick fur coats, and a couple far lighter ones of various instances of quality with one standing out with its partially tattered appearance, its black leather exterior faded and worn and in some places cracked, the soft polyester lining at odds with what may have once been a very expensive exterior. Seeing all of this made Violet smile, but after she saw the leather jacket her smile faltered partially as it was replaced by a slight frown and haunted expression. and placed the large handgun back inside its carrying case she let out a contented sigh before commenting to no one in particular.
"I've always wanted to go to Vale... I wonder if that old friend of Mother's is still there...?"
The next day in Vale...
There was the buzz indicating an incoming call echoing in the rather plain office in the back of a club as the dulled thrumming of music filtered through the walls, and paintings rattled against the walls from the heavy usage of the bass settings the disc jockey was fond of using. Behind the desk against the far wall was a man known as Junior, a middle man, an information broker, a manager of muscle for hire, a money launderer, and humble nightclub owner. Opposite of him however was a woman in a black satin dress with lavender eyes that glowed with an inner fire due to the overhead lighting and the range of barely suppressed emotions threatening to bubble to the surface as she listened to Junior answer the call, and she observed Junior with a look of interest as she sat back in a plush lounge chair with a hand holding a wineglass that was half filled with a dark red wine that probably cost more than the entirety of Junior's own considerable stock of alcohol for the bar.
"Roman, to what do I owe the honor so early in the afternoon?"
"Hey Junior, do you still have that buyer lined up for the item we discussed earlier?"
There was silence in the office as Junior sat at his desk listening to the voice on the other end of the conversation being held over his Scroll before knocking back a shot of Atlesian whiskey before glancing toward Violet.
"I think you and I have to discuss another buyer Torchwick, and I'd appreciate it if you'd wait a couple of hours before coming in for a drink, because the heat may have died down but there is a woman in here looking for your item."
"Oh? I don't suppose she was offering a decent rate for it... or did she just flash a badge?"
Junior took another drink before he switched the hands he was holding his Scroll in to the opposite hand revealing a fresh bruise just slightly smaller than his Scroll in order to place the now mostly empty glass of whiskey against the purple and blue flesh on the side of his head, letting the ice shift inside the glass to cool it as it was set against the bruise.
"Yeah, she definitely offered a sizable amount for it Roman, but she said that it is a time limited offer."
"What's the deadline and how much are we talking?"
Junior let out a sigh and looked at Violet once again and received a nod in reply.
"She said she's willing to pay twenty for the Eye, but you have to be at the airfield within two hours."
There was silence on the line before a drawn out question that hinted at Roman being far more cautious about the call.
"Twenty thousand?"
Junior put his glass down and picked up a rectangular piece of paper that was signed, dated, and was obviously a legal, bank approved check that had a separate payment for his own commission for organizing the sale of the Azure Eye at the normal twenty percent rate he kept for hot items that would fetch a massive price.
"I'll put it this way Roman, she cut a separate check for my commission so it doesn't come out of your cut and it's good for four million and-"
In the rather simplistic but well designed apartment building Roman had taken ownership of to front his less than legal business income he loved to sit in the loft he maintained there, especially now that he had to abandon the warehouse the night prior as the police started sniffing around, but as he heard the fact that Junior was being paid four million Lien for his commission fee he started to choke on the generous mouthful of gin he had just taken from a glass. It took what felt like ages for him to stop coughing but in reality it was only around half a minute before he finally managed it.
His reaction after successfully downing part of a glass of gin however was something he just had to say because this scenario sounded far too good to be true.
"Junior, you're saying they're going to shell out twenty MILLION Lien for this rock? I gotta tell you to lay off your own product, because you have got to be seeing double or something!"
The voice coming from Roman's scroll didn't change in the slightest, and that was what made Roman's eyes widen.
"Roman, I know this lady personally because I used to provide her mother with a few things when we were in business together, so trust me when I say she's good for it."
Roman took a brief moment to glance over at the priceless chunk of Dust sitting on the coffee table next to him while he sat on an overstuffed couch. With a pensive look on his face he let out a sigh before giving his reply, all the while thinking he was making a mistake.
Silence reigned in Junior's office as he listened to Roman over his Scroll before he said a brief goodbye and looked over toward the room's other occupant.
"So... he's interested in making a deal, assuming you're serious about paying him."
Violet took a moment to look at her wineglass before answering, and with a soft chortling laugh she answered with in a manner that reminded him of her mother, "Of course I plan on paying him, the only question is if I think he still deserves to be getting Lien after he returns my family's curse."
Roman Torchwick, a man feared by lesser criminals, and loved by the upper echelons of the shadier parts of society for his usefulness as a blunt instrument of absolutely dramatic destruction and his skills as a professional thief if they wanted a message sent, was in effect convinced he wasn't afraid of anything. That was what he told himself anyway because right now he was standing near a hangar Junior had told him was the meeting point for his new, and wealthy, buyer and he was actually shaking from adrenaline coursing through his veins because he knew what would happen if Vale's police force managed to catch him with a gem that was effectively worth more than the entire kingdom's Dust reserves, let alone its financial equivalent in Lien. It of course wasn't fear of the police that had him working himself into a sense of heightened readiness intentionally, it was the fear that he would probably end up meeting that metaphorical 'bigger fish in his little corner of the pond' that was the less savory side of society.
That and what he was afraid of was the nagging question of how the Hell he was going to hide twenty million Lien from the number one enemy of professional criminals everywhere, tax auditors.
Taking a deep breath he checked his scroll and noted he had just over half an hour left before the offer was 'up', and he even took the time to stake the airfield out before calling Junior to set up the buy properly. He would have just walked in after being assured there was literally no one else in the entire area aside from who he assumed was a pilot, and a very attractive brunette that set alarm bells off in his head after he spied her sitting on a lounge chair set up in the hangar shortly after he called Junior. The only problem is he couldn't tell why he was worried about her in the slightest, she was wearing a very expensive fur coat, and a large wide brim hat that hid her face.
Sighing, Roman Torchwick grumbled incomprehensibly to even himself as the weather was rather chilly for this time of year, and he was beginning to suspect that this deal might be a bad idea. Then again, how often does someone in his profession come across enough cash to retire on with careful spending and investment?
Without further thought he walked to his chosen entrance, it was the closest to the car he had appropriated on the way here, and it was also fairly close to a second door he made sure the lock was jammed open for a quick escape if his original point of escape was no longer viable. So as he got to the door he began to whistle a happy tune about mountains of Lien and champagne drenched parties for at least a month before he hid the remaining money among his ten aliases around Remnant.
Then, he pushed the door open with a happy and indeed possibly even overenthusiastic pose at the end.
Roman looked toward the woman on the lounge chair and said, "Hello Cupcake! I hope you don't mind my arriving when I did but I'm supposed to meet someone here in a half hour at the latest!"
The woman in the chair simply looked at Roman and growled out a response that was cold and venomous, "Tell me Mr. Torchwick, do you like jokes?"
"Uh... suuuure..., why?"
That was when he heard the door shut behind him with a slam and the click of a deadbolt falling into place, followed by a sound he was all too familiar with from the earlier days of his current career. The click of a handgun's hammer being cocked to firing position.
Then a woman's voice that sent shivers down his spine was heard from behind him, "Well, that's because I'm the buyer and she's just the copilot. I on the hand would like to say, thank you for returning my family heirloom."
The worst part is that the woman's voice was familiar, but he couldn't place why.
"Okaaaay, do you mind if I turn around?"
There was a moment of silence before the woman behind him replied, "Of course you can Roman, but I want to make sure you hear this joke first, because if you call me 'cupcake' or some piss poor attempt at flattery or flirting, and I'll give you my new personal interpretation of the joke, 'What's black and white, and red all over?'. Am I understood?"
Giving a silent nod with a grunt of affirmation Roman Torchwick slowly turned around with his hands raised, one hand holding Melodic Cudgel by the handle with a finger set across the trigger. Upon finishing his turn he saw a pair of violet eyes that gleamed in the shadows as their owner sauntered forth into his view, and for the first time since his early years of criminal enterprise Roman Torchwick felt true fear creep its way up his spine and he involuntarily said a pair of words that summed up the entire situation as memories of a golden eyed seductress played in his mind's eye.
"Oh shit..."