Welcome! My name is JapanDreamer!
A few things about myself: I've always love writing, and this is my first RWBY fanfic. I hope that through stories, my writing skills can improve. My schedule is unpredictable, but my motto is that I don't leave a story unfinished without notifying readers first. So regardless of the lack of updates, expect new chapter in the future.
Well, then, let's get this story started!
Chapter 1:
Roman Torchwick was a man that would need to be looked twice before figuring out who he was. At first glance, he could be described as a gentleman in his late twenties and with a flair for style. He wore red collared white lapel coat and a gray silk scarf wrapped around his pale neck. Always seen in his black gloved hand was a long black walking cane he named Melodic Cudel. However, hidden behind his long eyelashes and pixie smiling face was a cunning criminal with a flair of dramatics. His personal motto was that he needed to look pretty damn good when committing crimes.
And that's what he was planning for tonight.
There would've been a beautiful full moon shining from above, but the looming gray clouds overhead covered parts of the white orb, allowing only patches of moonlight onto the streets. The heavy humidity in the air gave off a reeking smell, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Roman was almost relieved when he arrived at his destination.
Almost.
Back in the day when the underworld ruled this area (well, the underworld still did but less openly than before), Il Tavolo Bianco was a small and quiet Italian restaurant where the mafia boss and henchmen would sit in the back, smoke cigars, and drink brandy. Now, the restaurant has become one of the exclusive and hottest clubs in town. Il Tavolo Bianco became the From Dawn to Dust night club.
Neon lights replaced the dark windows, and the usual silence was shattered with loud hip hop music. The once deserted and inconspicuous door now had a long queue of people, hoping to get an opportunity to join the party with the hippest DJs, the chilliest drinks, and, many whispered, the best drugs.
And Roman Torchwick was disgusted with it all. This was the last place he would come to have a good time. In fact, what kind of moron would have fun in a place like this? Overpriced drinks, overpriced entrance fee, and overpriced everything. Nevertheless, this was the meet point, so he cut to the front of the long line.
"Yo dude! The line is like, uh, back there." Roman turned to see some snot-nose teenager trying to act all tough. He didn't even look old enough to get in the party without some sort of fake ID. Urgh, another reason why to hate clubs. Snobby and immature little kids to deal with.
"Thanks kid," Roman smiled with a sarcastic voice. "Now I know where the underage children hang out." He turned away before the teenager slowly realized that he had just been insulted. Now at the front of the door, Roman showed the large and muscular bodyguard the exclusive VIP Dust membership card. The bodyguard took a look at it and confirmed its authenticity.
"Right this way, Mr. Ruben." The bodyguard ushered Roman in as he casually slipped the counterfeit card back into his pocket. The thick doors opened and Roman was engulfed in darkness and flashing lights and loud music. How could anybody walk around this place?
"Hello, would like some company?" a hostess came up and asked, hastily putting away her lipstick case and fixing her black cocktail dress. She had shoulder-length red hair that curled and rested on her shoulder and big doe eyes that were too big for her small face. Roman gave a charming smile at the lady. She was cute. Polite even. But unfortunately, not cute enough to distract him.
"Actually, I'm only in the mood for drinks." Without a second glance, he headed over to the private bar section. Here, the atmosphere was more subdue where all the loners watched, but didn't want to join in the fun. Twirling the cane in his hand like a baton, Roman placed it next to him as he smoothly slid into the nearest stool. Compared to the others, he stood out way too much here. He ignored all of the unsavory stares, and turned his attention to the overweight bartender.
"Gin. On the rocks." Roman drummed his fingers against the polished wooden counter until the drink came. Leaving his black bowler hat on, Roman swirled the alcohol around in the glass as his dark green eyes swept across the area. The club was in full swing and packed with customers. Many young hostesses crowded around flamboyant guys who were showing off their wealth with their gaudy, expensive watches, wads of cash that were stuffed down women's cleavages, and the long line of empty bottles of alcohol. It was a disgusting and an obnoxious sight to see, and Roman found himself draining the glass of gin to remove the images from his mind.
There was a large dance floor in the center of the place that was jammed pack. Some loud music (could he call loud booming sounds music?) blared through the entire place. Twenty minutes had passed and after going through two glasses of gin, the bored Roman pulled out a cigar. However, he didn't light it. Instead, he twirled it between his fingers as though contemplating whether or not to smoke.
Where is that guy?
"Hey, can I trade that cigar for this pack of cigarettes?" Roman turned around irritated when he realized that standing before him was a pale man in a black tux and wearing red shades. An odd combination to see since this restaurant was dimly lit. In the man's gloved hands was an open pack of cigarettes. Curiously, Roman looked into box.
He smiled.
"Not what you would call a fair trade, but I'm in a generous mood," Roman said, handing the thick cigar to the man and taking the box. The man walked off and Roman slipped the packet into his pocket. Finishing his drink, he tossed a couple of one-Lien bills onto the counter, grabbed his cane, flirted with the redheaded hostess for good measure, and headed back outside. Even now, under the awning, there was still a long line of people, eager to enter into the bright lights and glamour.
Slowly feeling the effects of the alcohol, Roman frowned slightly as he looked up at the sky. There was a light drizzle of rain coming down now and he pulled the collar up on his white suit. He should've brought an umbrella with him, but he figured he would have look stupid carrying a full-sized umbrella and a cane. And he was definitely not going to buy a compact one that cheap hipsters these days carry. Not fashionable to hold or use.
Avoiding the crowd, Roman walked in the opposite direction; away from the club. Instead of calling for a taxi, he continued down the dark and wet street. The place was silent except for the occasional late night shoppers hurrying in to the next store to get out of the rain. Pretending to admire a display of plates, Roman took a glance around the area to make sure no one was following him. It was important to be on the lookout, especially at this time of night. Deciding that the black cat on the other side of the street was of no danger, he turned at the street corner and found himself in a long dark, but most importantly, empty alley.
Here, there was no one in sight except the lone street lamp, chain-linked fence, and a couple of trashcans. Double-checking the area, he fished out another cigar from his pocket and this time a silver-colored lighter as well. Placing the lit cigar in his mouth, he pulled out the packet of cigarettes.
Or what appeared to be a packet of cigarettes.
He took one out and unrolled it into a parchment of white paper. The ignited end of his cigar gave enough light for him to read the scrawled handwriting.
It didn't take long to memorize the contents. Roman took the cigar from his mouth and let the flame burn the paper. He watched the white turn into black as the paper shriveled and crumbled, floating and then disintegrating upon contact of the large puddle of rain water. Roman never understood the point for this telephone game, but hey, if his client wanted to add all this secrecy, who was he to judge?
And now for the payment, Roman thought as he reached for the next rolled up paper. Suddenly, the calm patter of rain was shattered with a clacking echo. And sirens.
Cops? Damnit! Placing his back against the wall, Roman immediately tensed as he fumbled with the packet and hid it in his coat. His cane hovered over the ground by a couple of inches. Melodic Cudel was not just any ordinary black cane. This one could be used in combat as a grappling hook, staff, and a rifle. At the foot end, a reticle would be raised for aiming while uncovering the muzzle. Unfortunately, the black cane didn't come with a silencer, so unless he wanted to be heard, Roman prefer not to fire this concealed weapon unless absolutely necessary. As Roman waited, the footsteps and the occasional splash of water got louder and louder. Feeling his heartbeat pounding, Roman could make out a mysterious figure, heading to his location.
Once the shadow was bathed in orange hue from the street lamp, Roman lowered his cane. It was not the police but a woman.
Strangely dressed one as well. On such a dark and rainy night, she was decked in nothing but black. Black overblouse, black leggings, and even black gloves. Her black boots continued to give an irritating clacking sound against the pavement that made Roman's head pound. The most curious thing she had on though was the black fedora resting on top of her head.
A very strange accessory for a woman to wear…
The woman slowed down to a walking gait. Slowly gasping for air, she glanced behind her as the sirens got louder and louder… and then softer and softer. She breathed a sigh of relief when the noise dissipated. Knowing that she was still not out of danger yet, she tried hard to look inconspicuous and kept her head down. The fedora hat kept her face well hidden in the shadows. Still, Roman found his eyes drawn to the woman, especially the lower half of her torso. Tall, lean, and long waisted. Girl had a nice figure. He wouldn't be surprised if she was a model by day and by night… well, now Roman was curious.
The fedora woman was oblivious to Roman's existence and passed him without so much of a glance. Slighted by this woman's unawareness of him, the slightly drunk Roman decided to read the other parchments later and followed this attractive lady. She was apparently lost in her own thoughts to still be ignorant that a handsome gentleman like him was right behind her. Roman cleared his throat.
"You know, a lady should not walk around in the dark like this." The clacking sounds stopped and the woman turned to the sound of Roman's voice. For the first time, Roman got a good look of her appearance.
She had a pale face, half hidden behind her wheat-colored hair that went down to her waist. Her amber eyes flashed with fear before slowly realizing that this stranger was alone and was dressed too flashy to be an undercover cop.
"What's your name babycakes?" Maybe it was the alcohol, but for some reason, Roman couldn't stop himself from flirting. He found himself strangely drawn to this mysterious woman. And (why not just admit it?) she was smoking hot.
The woman glared for a good long moment before decided that Roman was not worth her while. Her nose twitched from the smell of alcohol from Roman's breath. Ignoring the lame sweet talks, she continued to walk down the road. However, this didn't deter her stalker and instead, amplified his interest in her. With unexpected swiftness, he caught up with her and tapped on her shoulder.
"Hey Fedora Girl, I was only asking a quest-."
"Get away from me," the woman snarled like a ferocious dog. Her amber eyes seemed to flash red in the darkness. For the first time tonight, Roman felt a strange shiver of fear running down his back and took several steps back.
"Whoa, no need for the cold shoulder Miss Fedora. Just want to know why you were in such a hurry," Roman said hastily, hands up in the air. However, by doing so, the Melodic Cudel's end was pointing at her face. Whether it was because of what Roman said or the woman realized that the cane was also a gun, the expression on her face suddenly darkened and without warning, she charged forward, ready to strike.
Out of pure reflex, Roman pulled the trigger on his cane before realizing his horrible mistake. The bullet came roaring out of the end of his cane and toward the woman's face. The bright muzzle flash lightened the alley, and the woman, with remarkable reflex, sidestepped to avoid getting hit.
BOOM! The pavement behind her exploded, scattering debris everywhere, and the noise echoed through the entire alley. She lost her balance and slammed against the ground. Her fedora slipped off her hair and fell into a puddle of water.
For the first time, the woman flinched in fear and grabbed the soaked fedora. But it was too late.
"Wow." Roman's eyes widened and gave an amused grin. He lowered his cane slightly. "It looks like I'm not the only one with secrets underneath my hat."
A Writer's Comment
So, what got me writing this… Well it all started when I watched RWBY when it came out. And immediately, after watching the first episode, I found myself fascinated of a certain man named Roman Torchwick. Seeing his antics and personality got me wondering. Who is this guy? What is his goal? And what is up with that ridiculous hairstyle? From there (and after many episodes), the number of questions grew, but they all lead to one main question. What happened in the past that led to the beginnings of RWBY?
And thus, the story was born.
Now of course, we still have quite a few things that are not mentioned in the show (like ages of certain people or names of certain places), so those few things here are based my own interpretation. However, we will see characters we know show up along with new characters.
Thank you for reading and I hope to see you in the next chapter.
-JapanDreamer