A/N: A few things to start, I've written for quite a long time, mostly for personal reasons, it is only now that I've decided to post some of the work online. Later chapters will be longer, this first one acted as an experiment as well as an introduction. At the end of this little exhibition period i'll determine if this is something I want to put more time into. Anyhow, on with the story!

The concert hall echoed with the sounds of the entering crowd. It was a vast, well decorated hall suited for plays and works of orchestra. Crafted velvet cushioned chairs filled rows upon rows on multiple balconies and floors.
Sitting towards the front, where orchestra members prepared themselves for the coming concert, was a red haired man in a fine white business suit accompanied by a woman with satin black hair flowing down passed her slim shoulders, matching a similarly colored dress.

They both sat impatiently in their seats, shifting and looking around often. The woman would occasionally ask the man a question in what seemed to be a frustrated manor. This made a smile appear across his face as he watched from the maroon red curtains draped in front of the stage. This made him wonder, who was this woman Roman had brought along with him?

The only reason for their presence here, at his first place of work, was because Roman spoke to him about receiving a "promotion". At this point he expected a bullet to the back of the head more than anything. It would make sense, he could be a loose end in the eyes of his employer. This was the reason for his demanding of a public meetup, a bit of security to soothe his aching mind, after all, he did have an image to maintain.

What unsettled him even more was that this was only the third of three total meetings he'd had with Roman. Most of the time one of many dead-drop locations was relayed to him with a name and a set amount of lien, and that would be all. This was normal, this was secure, why did he have to go and ruin this safe little relationship they had built? A smile once again appeared on his face as he thought "I suppose that's the price of being a professional."

He looked at his watch, five minutes till the curtains will rise. Unfortunately, his games must come to an end. He strode from the stage, keeping his eyes locked on the well dressed pair. As he walked he noticed the woman Roman had brought with him. She was quite the creature, a cold, but appetizing look in her fiery eyes, with a rather... desirable form as well. A smirk crept across his lips

Romans eyes quickly darted to see the man walking towards them, he wore a black conductors jacket that matched his hair and clashed vaguely with dull maroon eyes matching the curtains on the stage. "There he is, finally" he said quickly to Cinder, relief in his voice.

The conductor quickly sat down next to Roman and spoke calmly, with a voice that seemed to pierce the ear with pinpoint precision. "Good Evening, it's good to see you again." He made no eye contact. "yes… ugh, I think we'd like to to see you backstage." Roman spoke with a vague hint of uncertainty.

The conductor immediately turned to the both of them and cocked his head slightly. He spoke again "Ah, of course, my door is always open." The man's cold red eyes stared at Roman, as he desperately held the frustration back that was boiling from behind his eyes. He sighed and begrudgingly held his hand out for Roman to shake it. The ginger haired man took a sigh of relief and gave a firm handshake, the final signature to this tacit contract. The man immediately stood and strode off towards the stage, not speaking another word to them.

Shortly after the curtains rose, the man they had just spoken to stood in front of several dozen orchestra members. He took a short bow, turned to face the band, and the concert began.

The music began with a slow, somber melody carried by strings. The lights dimmed in the room as the pace slowly quickened, with more instruments soon joining in. The crowd was soon whisked away into a sea of mental imagery to accompany the heightened music in the air.

Several Months Prior

Roman walked into the bar, not completely sure what to expect. He immediately sat down in one of the closest booths, it was shaded and hidden to where he was most comfortable. When the faunus waitress came around he calmly ordered a drink and continued to hold back his anxiety.

He told his buddies in the White Fang that they were looking for a… "new hire". Oddly enough, with all of the quiet discourse going on behind the scenes, a good assassin was hard to come by. Several had come and gone, most were fairly generic. Some ex-military, some just regular people who had grown up on the streets looking for desperate work. A dependable employee, especially in this area, was one of many things lacking from Roman's operation.

The ginger man sat in the darkened booth, pumping his leg repeatedly on the hardwood floor. Every now and again the waitress attending the bar would watch his shady green eyes look over at the door, then his watch. His nervousness ultimately shining through as he also tapped his gloved fingers on the table-top.

Eventually one man with black hair, similar in length to Romans, walked in and looked around. His uneasy maroon eyes quickly darted around the bar and spotted Roman, the man immediately began to stride over to him.

He sat down straight across from Roman in the dark booth. He reached his hand across the table towards Roman and spoke "Roman Torchwick?". Roman quickly gave him a reply. "Yes, i suppose you are the new hire, then?" The small corner of the cafe was small, and very poorly lit, but he could still make out a small nod from the man sitting across from him.

Romans sporadic and nervous thoughts eased as he felt he had gained control over the situation. "Now, pardon me for being nosey, but… why are you of all people doing this?" The shadowy "new hire" cocked his head questioningly at Roman.

"I don't understand…"

"Well that's just it. Neither do I. If I had a mansion, money, and fame to come home to every night, I sure as hell wouldn't be out here."

The man across from him sighed in understanding, and slowly shook his head. Roman continued.

"What is Rohan Fenris doing here, asking to work for a guy like me?"

After a quaint silence, Rohan spoke up.

"It is opinions like that, that I can never get behind. Men like you look up at people like me who are "Successful" He raised his hands, gesturing air quotes. "And assume that, because we have money and fame, that we are happy with our lives…" Roman heard a quiet laugh emit from the man.

"Its an illusion, a false image, a façade. Men like me sit in our houses of gold looking down at those outside the window in envy, Their lives are incredible, dynamic, ever changing and unique. While my life is spent lounging in endless maintenance, mundane stress and boredom." The man spoke as he leaned forward, his face being revealed by the overhead light. Dull maroon eyes stared at Roman in frustration, anticipation, and flat anger.

Roman reached into his jacket pocket and removed a cigar from it, lighting it, he spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

"I think we're going to get along just fine, Rohan"

Rohan grinned, whatever hell awaited him from this point, its presence would never go unappreciated by him.