First-and-Only Disclaimer: The animated show RWBY (and all characters, locations, devices, and all other material not previously mentioned therein) belongs to Rooster Teeth. I own a laptop, an overactive imagination, Microsoft Word, and the original characters of this story.
Roman Torchwick was in a mood, and that was probably the best way to put it. Sometimes, it felt like the only competent person in his organization outside of himself was a 4'8" mute with sociopathic tendencies (he blamed her mother for that). How else could he explain the consistency with which his lieutenants and their underlings managed to cock up anything more complicated than a drive-by? Thankfully, this particular lieutenant had managed to salvage enough of the operation to make it almost profitable, but that still didn't excuse the fact that he was in a hospital.
Taking a deep drag of the cigar he shouldn't have been smoking in here, he took a moment to reorder his thoughts before pinning the mostly bandage-shrouded henchman with a frustrated glare. "Do you realize just how lucky you are that the owner of this particular establishment happens to owe me a hell of a lot more than one?"
The henchman, too afraid to verbally respond, simply nodded nervously.
"The only reason I'm not leaving your ass to hang in the wind for the cops to find is because that stupid stunt of yours manage to save most of the shipment and run off those Idiot School washouts Junior likes to employ." The end of Roman's cigar flared for a moment as he inhaled again, a clenched little grin beginning to creep across his face. "So...what have we learned today, class?"
The criminal kingpin was in a much better mood as he prepared to leave. The shipment had been recovered without him needing to get blood on his suit, the body count had been lower than usual (on his end, anyway. He couldn't care less about Junior's manpower losses), the parties responsible for the cock-up had been suitably reprimanded, and he had a nice bottle of a local red back home he intended to savor. All was right with his world. Or it would be, he realized with a small scowl, if his tiny tagalong had stayed where he put her.
It wasn't that he was particularly surprised that she'd wandered off, or even that he was really worried. It was just going to be annoying to find her and drag her away from whatever had caught her eye, and he didn't want to deal with that at the moment. Hell, it's not like it was even going to be that hard to find her; there couldn't be that many midgets with half-pink hair, and he already had a good idea of where to start looking for her.
Just like he thought, she'd gone to the cafeteria. Questioning a marginally-terrified day worker revealed he'd just missed her take off, apparently leaving a bowl of ice cream behind (neapolitan, of course. How drunk had he been to think that was a good name?), which definitely intrigued him. Whatever had caught her attention, it must've been really interesting to make her ditch her favorite treat.
Following her path, he very shortly came across a very interesting scene. It almost could've been a standoff, if weapons had been out. On one side was an old, gray-haired doctor, with a slightly worried look on his face, flanked by security guards. On the other side was his runaway runt, and a strange looking kid in a…patient gown?
The kid actually looked more like a young adult, really. The fresh, extensive scarring on his face made him look a lot older than he had to be. (Seriously, it looked like someone had taken a weed-whacker to his face. Or got really enthusiastic with a knife.) He was almost bald, the dark stubble on his head only really highlighting the scars that reached up there at the moment.
Now, Neo had her Smile™ on, which should've scared any sensible being, and the looks on Security's face made it apparent it was working. But the way the kid's arms were crossed, and his feet planted confidently in the middle of the hallway, seemed to be what was keeping the doc on his toes.
"I'm not a doctor," the kid spoke in a surprisingly even tone (honestly, he'd expected him to sound like he'd been gargling nails), "but I am well enough aware of my physical limitations and anatomy to know when I'm healed." His eyes – an interesting shade of amber that almost looked like it glowed – narrowed as he delivered his final salvo. "You just want to keep me here to study me like a lab rat."
The older man visibly flinched at the accusation. "You have to understand, we've never seen a case as advanced as yours before," he replied in a reedy voice that just confirmed him as a nerd to the ginger gang leader, "By all rights, you shouldn't even be alive."
"And yet here I stand."
Roman decided right there that he might just like this kid.
Into the silence immediately afterward he stepped with classic aplomb. Taking one last drag from his cigar, he tossed it into a nearby trash can (he might not hold laws in high regard, but he wasn't a savage), and stepped out between the two, a smile on his lips and a quip on his tongue.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was interrupting a kidnapping."
He always liked watching people as they finally clicked to who he was; the realization, then the fear (or sometimes anger), and finally resignation as they concluded there was nothing they could do about him; it made him feel warm and fuzzy.
The kid, though, didn't react the way the old doctor had. In fact, he didn't seem to react at all. Oh, Roman could still tell the moment it clicked, but there was nothing behind it, just acknowledgement, and then it was just…filed away. If Torchwick hadn't been interested before, he sure was now.
"I wouldn't have thought you'd be so concerned about illegal activity," the kid responded, the beginnings of a smirk touching his mouth.
"Only because I didn't approve it," Roman admitted cheerfully, waiting to see what kind of reaction the statement garnered.
The kid just smiled and nodded concedingly, as if to say 'Perfectly understandable'. Deciding he wasn't going to volunteer any more information, Torchwick turned to the doctor.
"What exactly are you doing to earn a comparison to SDC's hiring policies?" Not that he really had claim to the moral high ground on that front, but the chance was just too good to pass up.
The doctor licked his lips nervously before beginning to speak. Torchwick almost regretted asking him, simply because of how annoying his voice was. "He was brought in by an anonymous Huntsman from outside the city. His initial diagnosis was originally the results of extreme proximity to high-pressure deflagration, though there was some speculation as to whether it was a detonation or not at first."
Roman scowled. "Okay...now say that again in Valian."
"They think I was standing next to a low-explosive bomb when it went off in a high-pressure environment," the kid translated, subtle amusement playing across his face, "They thought it might have been high-explosive at first."
"Were you?"
"Not that I was aware of."
The doc cleared his throat with a frown at the kid, who just gave him a smug smirk. "Please, continue."
"During surgery, we discovered an unknown Dust crystal subdermally lodged just below his right shoulder." While his voice was still annoying as all hell, the doctor had taken on that ubiquitous rote tone with which they always delivered medical news. "Investigation revealed severe crystallization of osseous tissue throughout the right arm and shoulder, but epidermal tissue damage around the area of embedment showed he only recently contracted Pulverem Toxemia. It's unlike any other case we've seen before."
"I have the single-most advanced case of Dust poisoning in recorded history," the kid translated, less helpfully this time.
"Yeah, I got that," came the dry remark as Roman tried to figure out what to do with this.
A calculating look filled the kid's eyes as they flitted around the hall, taking in the situation. "If you have time, Mr. Torchwick," he started, "I have a proposition for you."
Roman quirked an eyebrow, amused. No one called him 'Mr. Torchwick' anymore. "I'm listening..."
"My condition is terminal," the kid elaborated with all the equanimity of someone commenting on the weather, "I want a chance to study it with the end goal of finding a cure; failing that, a way to regress its severity. If you provide this, I will provide you with whatever services within reason that you deem necessary until I succeed, or I die."
"Within reason, huh?"
"I draw the line at prostitution." Roman couldn't believe the kid managed that with a straight face.
With an amused snort, he looked at Neo to see what she had to...well, not really say, but still. He started regretting that the minute he met her gaze. She was giving him That Look™, the one she'd gotten when she'd dragged the kitten back from...somewhere, and was begging him to let her keep it. (It was a point in the darn thing's favor that it turned out so good at pest control.)
With an internal sigh, his eyes slid over to the doctor, who looked like he wanted to argue. Staring him straight in the eyes, as if daring the old fart to challenge him, Roman made up his mind.
I suppose it's not the worst deal I've ever made…
"Deal, kid. Welcome to the Jack O'Lanterns."
"That was the end of everything...but it was also a beginning."
Here it is, the long-awaited (hahaha, who am I kidding) beginning of my very own RWBY story! I hope you enjoy it, and the shenanigans that will ensue.
There will be shipping in this fic (because reasons); to that end, I've spun up a thing to keep y'all appraised of where things might be going in that department. If you don't really care for that, feel free to ignore the remainder of this AN.
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Please stand by for brief...
Good day, ladies and gentlemen; PFCDontKnow with your Fandom Yards initial brief.
- The purpose of this brief is ensure that all readers remain up-to-date on the current status of various ships under construction, consideration, or underway.
- Construction on hull designation CG-001 began on January 5th, 2016. All documentation and materials related to Project NATIVE TONGUES has been classified SECRET/ /REL TO FNDM.
- Projects ARKOS, NIGHT'S WATCH and PINK LOTUS have been approved, pending allocation of resources for construction. All documentation and materials related to the aforementioned projects are classified CONFIDENTIAL/ /REL TO FNDM.
- Projects BANANA SPLIT, BUMBLEBEE, CHECKMATE, FREEZERBURN, LADYBUG, NOBLESSE OBLIGE, ROSE GARDEN, ROYAL GUARD, S.E.A.L., STAINED GLASS, and WHITE ROSE are under consideration. All documentation and materials related to the aforementioned projects are classified UNCLASSIFIED/ /FOUO.
- Projects FALLING PETALS, LANCASTER, NINJAS OF LOVE, ORANGE, PURRHA, ROSEWICK, SCORCHED EARTH, and YELLOWJACKET have been denied, pending proper disposal of documentation and materials.
- Further project submissions for consideration are being accepted at this time.
Pending any questions, that is all I have.