Week 1: Debt

Roman Torchwick was not a happy camper. Even now, he couldn't quite comprehend exactly WHY he was here of all places, stuck inside a cramped one-person room, lording over some pint-sized bed with his foot against the bedframe and his mind yelling at him to just end it all already. Why exactly was he here again?

Oh, right. His job.

Yes, you heard that right. Roman Torchwick, Vale's number one most-wanted, the classiest criminal in the city, and any number of titles he didn't bother listing right now...

Has a job.

He didn't even want to think about it, dragging a finger up the bridge of his nose, brushing a bit of his hair aside as he adjusted the brim of his hat, trying to will his growing migraine away. He closed his eyes, wondering for just a moment if he was in some sort of hallucination, something brought on by one of Red's group of wanna-be heroes after they had raided some heist-gone-wrong that he couldn't remember.

Of course, that wasn't the case. Still, Roman was nothing if not persistent, and he would get to the bottom of this eventually. For now...

Crack.

His shoes, once again, collided with the wooden frame of a particularly small bed. It had been the third time, and the occupant of the child-sized cradle still refused to get up. Even Neo wasn't this uncooperative on Sundays. The blob beneath the blankets refused to move, not in any act of defiance, but for the simple fact that it was still unconscious. This was getting him nowhere.

"Hey, Brat! You wanna wake up already?!"

"Mmmmurple... Can't eat another bite..." Those were the first signs of life Roman had heard from the bundle of stress, and already he felt his eye twitch. Not only was little ball of headache refusing to get up, it was dreaming of stuffing its face with... Who knows what.

He would do worse, but he's currently under "contract obligations" that prevented him from strangling this little annoyance. And while he wasn't always the type of person to observe contract terms from mysterious multi-billion lien (Or whatever currency they use here) corporations, the fact that they acquired his Melodic Cudgel meant he had to play nice for now. At least until he had a chance to steal it back.

Which would be easy, if the company didn't use some weird dust stuff he'd never seen before. Sure, he understood lasers as much as the next criminal, but lasers that had some weird magical tracking thing, bending through the air for no logical reason was something beyond his current capabilities. And, of course, to make sure he did his job, they sent freaking Thumbelina to report his every move.

Seriously, what the hell was she? You'd think Roman was joking, but, honest-to-God, the company that stole his damned weapon leashed a freaking fairy to him. Barely a foot tall, and floating on weird holo-wings. Or just wings. He didn't even know anymo-

"... but I can always find room for yummy candy... Mimblewurble."

Okay, seriously? Mimblewurble? This little brat's just toying with him now, right? That just earned the thing another kick.

"Get the hell up before I sick Tinkerbell on your a-"

"Merde... For the last time, it's Tear." Roman's pint-sized overseer immediately interrupted him. "And do remember to keep your language in check during this assignment."

Of course, Torchwick never bothered to listen to that command, because the little floating figure of annoyance broke her rule all the damn time. Turning to the fairy, Roman took off his hat, bending over in an exaggerated bow as he spoke with a terribly fake smile. "As you wish. I'll endeavour to be more multicultural with my insults in the future."

"... Are you done?"

As always, their little heart-to-heart stops at this point, mainly because neither of them had the patience to spare for this banter. Or, maybe it's because "THIS FREAKING KID WON'T GET UP!" Of course he was a man of class, but he was never one to entertain annoying children. Red could attest to that.

"HeuaAAH! Who, wha, whenzit?!" Finally, the little brat gets up. It only took the man more time than it normally takes trading information with Junior. And let me tell you, he's as incompetent as they come.

With that said, it was finally time to get down to brass tacks. Torchwick adjusted his hat, straightened his coat, and finally turned his attention onto the girl. "Now, let's ge-"

"Oh, Tear! Roman! G-... G'morning!" She slurred that last part. This little brat isn't even fully awake.

Roman gave a look to Tear, which spoke volumes about how much he wanted to throttle the little kid in front of him. For the most part, Tear ignored him, turning her ire to the truant child instead.

"We don't have time for 'G'morning', Recette! Are you planning on spending the rest of your life dreaming of sweets?" Sure, the little fairy was small, but Roman did acknowledge that she had more spine than some of the people he's worked with.

Granted, they're yelling at a... 12 year old or something?

... Nah, she's still better than some of his previous contacts.

"You know, I could just save us the wait." Roman's voice was deadpanned at this point, giving a tired stare to the fairy as he drew his thumb across his neck, before pointing to the little headache known as Recette.

"We don't have time for you, either, Roman." First name basis, huh? "Today is the day we set for opening the store." Not like Roman particularly cared. It wasn't his life hanging by a hair, but the bubbly little something-year-old.

"You know what? You're twelve now." Roman's voice had absolutely no context, earning him a confused glance from Recette, and... a Tear glance from Tear. Seems no one really cares anymore at this point.

After the confounding statement by Roman, Recette turned back to the fairy, her face filled with as much confusion now as it had the day she was born without a brain. "Uh, we did?"

There was a pause. Roman growled internally, wishing they didn't take his cigars either.

"Oh yeah, we did!" Even Red wasn't this slow.

"Merde. Of all the..." And judging by the tooth fairy's response, she was sick of this too. Still, her face instantly hardened, no doubt trying to form most serious expression she could muster for something the size of his shoe. "Listen, Recette. Go wash up and make yourself presentable. And when you're done with that, join us downstairs in the storefront."

A miracle occurred, and recollection began to dawn on the little snot's face. "'Kay! I'll be right down!" The little snot with the ear-piercing voice. As Recette scampered off, Roman couldn't help but give a stare to the fairy, yeah he's finally accepted it as a fairy now, beside him.

"... This is all just convincing me to take back my stuff by force. You know, right?"

"Just follow me." Tear didn't even have time to entertain her charge, as she floated downstairs. Roman followed suit, too tired to even hum an annoying tune.

Truth be told, Roman had no idea what he was supposed to do on this job. Sure, the formal, written instructors were "Collect a debt", which normally sounded like grunt work. However, he wasn't robbing some dust merchant or pirating a supply ship or anything. No, he was supposed to somehow collect from a broke 12-year-old.

"... Capitalism Ho!" Of all the things for a brat to yell. Seriously?

Is... Is this how he dies? In another world that doesn't even understand proper business or crime?

Oh yeah, that was another thing he noticed. It seems that the people here didn't really cause crimes. At least not in this little shantytown known as Pensee. Not even him, though it wasn't for lack of trying. For whatever reason, there was literally no criminal element in this entire village. Was it due to the "adventurers" or whatever they called them? People who just walk around in broad daylight carrying whatever stabbing implements they wish? Of course, he could relate, since he always kept Melodic Cudgel on hand.

Except for now.

Whatever. Taking a break from his thoughts, Roman glanced back to the short-stick duo. Sounds like Tear was currently explaining a new and fundamental concept of business to the aspiring merchant kid: Namely, you can't sell stuff if you don't have stuff to sell. Real genius we're working with.

Still, he had no choice but to stand around and do absolutely nothing. Couldn't leave the sight of his overseer without losing his weapon permanently, and he'll be damned before he lets a legitimate business (Which, don't forget, SEEMS TO BE THE BEST THIS WORLD CAN DO FOR CRIME) have any excuse to keep his only item worth having.

Oh, don't make a mistake. Under normal circumstances, he'd be in a rush to retrieve his signature weapon/cane—Don't want anyone finding out all the neat little tricks his toy can do. But there was enough ominous security things to give him a second thought, especially since he didn't have Neo to bail him out. Yet, he wasn't exactly worried about it, because honestly? He was fairly certain the local geniuses wouldn't even consider touching it. They seemed so smart in some areas, and so utterly incompetent in many more.

Oh well, not like it was loaded with dust at the moment, anyways. They probably thought it just had sentimental value.

Letting out a sigh, Torchwick noticed that little miss diabetes and Tinkerbell had finally decided to approach him. Maybe now he'd be able to do something more than play angry guard dog. That was more of the White Fang's thing, after all.

"We're going to visit the merchant guild to establish contacts. Then, after that, we'll purchase some stuff from the markets to sell in the store." The blue fairy had the same no-nonsense tone she always tried carry, but the master criminal could tell that his tiny overseer was exhausted. Hey, the brat was her problem, not his. More importantly...

"... You mean we'll negotiate stuff from some local suppliers and farmers, right?" There was doubt in Roman's voice. He was sure that he was missing some critical piece of information that the fairy simply neglected to tell him.

"No, we shall be visiting the market to purchase items from those stalls, then stocking those items here in the store." Tear's message was simple, short, and effective.

And the message's content drove Roman insane. Because this was somehow a legitimate business strategy, where you can walk into one part of town, buy everything below cost, then sell it at twice that price at another part of town without anyone complaining.

What is wrong with this world?