Cookie Cutter

What a fine evening! The rain did nothing to dampen Torchwick's mood as he leisurely strolled down the quiet streets of Patch, his umbrella in one hand and his cane tapping rhythmically on the sidewalk with the other. Honestly, he felt as if he could burst into song, just like in one of those cheesy movies he'd snuck into. After years of pickpocketing, illegal gambling, low-level robberies, and skirmishes with the local gangs, not only was he the undisputed, albeit unofficial, boss of the streets, but he'd been able to finish upgrading Melodic Cudgel. As his test had just proven, both he and it were now on par with the best of Signal Academy. Tomorrow, it was finally time to leave this dump and hit the big time. Where to celebrate? He looked around and went through a mental list of places he could get to before closing. Unfortunately, only two fit the bill: Brad's and Stella's. Brad's had good ice cream, and was a pretty fancy place, but Torchwick found the owner quite unpleasant. Stella's wasn't exactly the grand departure he'd like, but at least the cookies weren't bad.

Stella's was a quaint little place, built out of an old barn that hadn't been torn down yet for some reason. It had all the trappings of a family kitchen, from the sappy slogans hanging on the walls, to the hand-made coasters, and somehow, no matter when you came in, it always smelled like fresh cookies. Torchwick threw open the large double doors, briefly gaining everyone's attention before the few people present stuffed their remaining meals into their face and hurried out behind him. Stella, or at least that's who he'd always assumed the lady at the counter was, started shivering slightly as he approached. He snickered a bit. Small town life was not without its charms.

"I'll have your best turkey sandwich and three of whatever that smell is." He announced, holding out a handful of lien. Stella stared at his hand, apparently not understanding the gesture. "On the house then?" With a quick, dramatic flourish he stuck the money back in his pocket. "Thanks!" She stared after him in helpless misery while he picked a seat in one of the booths.

His order was brought out almost immediately. The sandwich was, well, exactly what you'd expect a sandwich to be: meat and some vegetables smashed between two pieces of bread. The cookies, on the other hand, were one of his favorites: red velvet and chocolate chip. As he was trying to decide which to start with, he heard an odd squeaking sound come from directly behind him. Considering he'd just seen everyone leave, this didn't alarm him, but he was still curious as to what it could be. The sound repeated itself a few more times, and it was something he distinctly recognized: whimpering. When he turned around he didn't see anyone, but after leaning over the side he found a black and red haired girl in a little black dress, maybe eleven years old, curled in a ball, crying in her sleep. Oh, what to do? Helping people wasn't really his thing, but if he didn't at least wake her up, her crying would ruin his otherwise perfect evening.

"Hey," he spoke gently, giving her a slight nudge, "wake up."

She jolted awake, bolting out of her seat to hide under the table. Slowly, silver eyes poked their way out, which even Torchwick had to admit were adorable, and calmed down after seeing that he wasn't whatever demon plagued her nightmares. He found himself smiling and, feeling a sudden surge of generosity, offered her a cookie off his plate. She gave him a look somewhere in between a puppy and a wolf, and snatched, not one, but all three cookies and crammed them in her mouth at once.

"Huh," he drolled, his mood now quite sour, "karma's a b-"

"Sir!" Stella interrupted, having come over to the table while he was busy getting suckered, "uh, we're getting ready to close. Would you like a bag?"

"Eh, keep it." He brushed her off and started to leave, but found the little cookie thief following him to the door. "What? You want something else?" She made little squeaking noises that might have been attempts at words, nervously glancing between his feet and his hat, but mostly lingering on the umbrella he was carrying.

"You needn't trouble yourself." Stella, once again, interrupted, "I'm taking her home after work. She lives next door."

"Well good," he focused on the girl, "I'm glad to know someone's taking care of you. What's your friend's name?"

"Uh..." she looked back and forth between the two grown-ups, "um..." Stella gave her the most pleading, desperate look, "what?"

The look of crushing failure on Stella's face was just the thing he needed to lift his spirits. In fact, he was feeling almost as good going out as he had been coming in. At least, until he noticed another pair of footsteps had followed him through the door. Sure enough, the girl was right behind him, trying to stay under the protection of his umbrella.

"Sorry," she mumbled, folding her hands in front of her mouth, "I didn't want to get caught in the rain again."

"You are not following me home!" Torchwick practically snarled.

"Just a little bit... please?"

"Sheesh," he muttered bitterly, "fine."

It had gotten quite dark while they were in the restaurant, and, due to Patch not having many street lights, the occasional splashing sound was often the only indication that the girl was still following him. So it came as quite a shock when she suddenly darted in front and started spinning him around. He was just about to club her over the head when he saw, or rather heard, her cause for alarm. Someone was running towards them. He shifted his grip on Melodic Cudgel ever so slightly from his casual walking position to a loose battle stance. The sound stopped a short ways in front of them. Torchwick could just piece together the outline of a tattered cape and what looked like a loose garment in the stranger's hand.

"Who are you?" A somewhat raspy male voice spoke.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm looking for someone," the voice urged, filled with worry, "a little girl with red and black hair and silver eyes. Wearing a black dress. Have you seen her?"

"I can hardly see you!" Torchwick snapped, both in genuine irritation and to buy himself some time. There was no mistaking a description like that, and Torchwick really wanted to be rid of this kid. But, from the moment the man started talking until right now, the girl was clinging to the back of his coat, shaking. With this and the state he found her in, his mind was starting to paint a picture. Part of him wanted to think it was nothing more than a family squabble. This man was probably her father, and the girl ran away because she broke a window or something and didn't want to pay for it. Another part of him was going through stories he'd heard on the news. Terrible things that even a guy like him didn't want to believe existed. Oh, what was he supposed to do with this girl?

"But yeah," he began to collect himself, "I think I saw someone a while ago. She ran into an alley around the corner." He heard racing footsteps splash across the street and away from them. The girl let out an audible sigh, leaning against his back for support.

"Thank you."

"Nothing's free kid," he ripped her off, using his cane to hoist her by the shoulder in front of him, "Give me a reason not to drag you back to that guy."

"Ow! Please, I don't want to go back."

"That's not a reason."

"I can't! I can't go back!"

"That's still not a reason."

"Please..." her voice began to break, "please!"

"Hah... you know, you're not making this very easy for me." He wanted to cart her off then and there, but, against his better judgment, he was getting invested in this little pest. Perhaps he'd seen a little of himself in those greedy silver eyes. Maybe it was his own desperate will ringing in her voice. A mad plan was forming in his head, one that would require a great deal of effort and sacrifice but could yield the biggest payoff of his career. "Tell you what," he set her down, "I can give you a reason. See, I'm going to the big city tomorrow to expand my business and... check in on some old friends. I might be able to take you along, if you're willing to work."

"I... can? Yes, I am!"

"Then I'll be upfront with you: I'm a thief, and that's what I'll be teaching you. Life will be hard, you'll get hurt, and you won't have any friends. You'll take things that don't belong to you, and hurt people who don't deserve it. Are you willing to learn that?"

"My..." The darkness made it impossible to read her face, but from the way her silhouette shifted back and forth he could guess how conflicted she was. "What happens if I'm not?"

"I take you back to whoever was looking for you, unless you can give me a good reason not to." This was a game he had to play carefully. He'd been shown a long time ago how to engender loyalty through guilt and fear, but he also knew from experience that those kinds of methods bred betrayal. If he was going to make a pawn out of her, she had to owe and fear him, but also appreciate and respect him. Right now, she could keep talking, give up, agree, or bolt. Which response she chose would inform how he approached her in the future.

"What if... I can't handle it? What do you expect me to be?"

"Like I said, this isn't an easy business. There are no second chances and I won't go easy on you. But, I'll do my best to make sure you succeed. Don't worry, I won't be sending you to rob banks until you're a little older. If you can be determined, obedient, and a little ruthless, I'll take care of the rest."

She didn't speak again for a long moment. When she did, her voice came out clear and even a little enthusiastic, "I can do it! I'm willing. I'll be worth your time."

"Good choice, now let's get you out of this blasted rain."

She skipped along beside him all the way home. After showing her where she'd be sleeping, there was just one more thing to get straightened out, "So what am I going to call you kid?"

"Oh. Uh... anything's fine really."

"Hmm, well as long as you're going to be a thief I'll name you after your first heist. How does Red Velvet strike you?"

"Hmm? Oh- HA HA HA HA! They were really good. I like it."

"I'm Roman Torchwick, nice to meet you Red." She positively beamed at him. He had to admit she had a nice smile. Maybe being nice to her wouldn't be so hard after all. "Well, it's been an eventful evening. Get some rest."

Author's Note: This is actually a role-swap of my imagined meeting between Roman and Neo. For those who are curious, had he chosen to go to Brad's, Neo would have followed him in. The owner picks a fight with Torchwick and Neo murders him with a spoon, smiling like she expects some kind of reward. Torchwick is impressed by her innate killing talent, and gets her an ice cream, already planning to turn her into his body-guard.

If you're curious what becomes of Neo, or what's up with Ruby's family, don't worry, I'm almost definitely going to continue this. I was going to wait to publish this until I had its sequel completed, but I just couldn't let Rosewick month go by without doing something. So, until my next entry is complete, hail crack ship!