Chapter 4
"Who are you!? What are you doing here!?" the pitiful old man cried.
He was backed up against a wall, legs splayed out across the ground, and quivering in tantalising fear.
She smiled.
His eyes were widened by overpowering terror as she drew her blade from its inconspicuous scabbard. Within his tiny office, there was no place for the man to run. The only people who could protect him lay dead outside the door.
They'd been decently strong, but only served as mere entertainment in the end. Even with their auras unlocked, guards were still guards - cheap and replaceable.
She flicked her wrist, and the blade now lay poised to enter the man's throat. A mere inch, and all the blood would leave his body - staining the wooden floor.
Sadly, the information this man could possess was much more valuable than his blood. She held a notebook right up to his face, with a single request written on the front of it.
"Wh-what…?" his eyes widened when she showed him her demands.
He shakily got up, the blade still right at his quivering neck, and began to move solemnly towards his desk.
He was too slow. She prodded him in frustration.
That made him work faster.
He picked up his laptop - a nice model, she noted - and began to search through his records and data and charts.
With each page of information he flicked through, his clicking became more and more erratic. Eventually, he stopped, and got up from his chair. He revealed that what she was looking for wasn't here, and when met with her growl of frustration, begged her to please spare him. He promised he wouldn't tell a soul - he had a family, who were waiting for him to get back and -
Her sword went through his neck, piercing his spine and killing him instantly. As much as it would've been fun to play with him, murder was best done for business, not pleasure. She sat down on the desk, and fanned through the records herself.
The lists seemed endless. The number of vile people that had lived and died in these cells was great, that much was certain. Trying to find him would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Her eyes narrowed as she reached the end of the list.
The old man was right. The name she was looking for was nowhere to be found. Irritating - she had hoped to get this over with quickly.
She sat down at the desk, and scanned the list more carefully.
This time, there was no need to look for a name. A number would suffice.
She checked through every single room in the building's neatly-organised plans.
7 blocks, each labelled A to G. Each subsequent block was more secure than the other.
There was only one place they would have contained the man she was looking for. She quickly pulled up further information from the labyrinth of folders on who had been there.
Block G contained solitary confinement inmates. Each room was exceptionally small, and all were withdrawn from one another. In total, there were only ten rooms.
There were 7 occupied ones. However, there was a gap between G3 and G5 - the room was empty. The G5 inmate had been brought in yesterday, and the G3 inmate five days prior. There was no reason G4 wouldn't have been able to contain an inmate.
An image began to piece itself together in her mind.
Someone had been contained in G4. But they'd been removed for unspecified reason and their presence here was erased.
The person who had illustrated this cover up was an amateur; they'd failed to properly cover their tracks.
They probably worked here if they were able to not only remove the inmate, but also access this information. They also had acted outside of the knowledge of the fresh corpse in the corner of the room.
That left one remaining set of suspects.
She smiled, pulling her napkin from her pocket and wiping the blade clean.
It was time to pay a little visit to some of the prison guards.
*X*
Roman glared at the large congregation of paper that had gathered on top of his living room table. Since the location of his classroom was as of yet undetermined, he didn't actually have space outside of his own room and the cafeteria (which he wasn't about to touch with a ten foot pole) to do any of the paperwork Ozpin had given him. Which he was more than fine with - he liked the privacy.
The task he'd been given was arbitrary and easy. Roman liked it that way - the less effort necessary, the better.
What sat in front of him was a pile of the applications of Beacon hopefuls. Given his expertise in forging documents, Ozpin had politely asked him to identify the forged ones, and remove them before he sent out invitation letters to the appropriate candidates.
Which was exactly the kind of thing Torchwick had been waiting for.
He was relatively sure Ozpin could've identified them himself, but Roman wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, was he?
Roman pulled a pen out of his pocket, and began to twirl it through his fingers.
He picked up the first sheets of paper.
Miss Pyrrha Nikos - Age 17.
The image underneath featured a girl with red hair tied in a striking ponytail. She had green eyes that seemed to sparkle from out of the photo Roman had been given. A spark of… Something. It was hard to tell exactly what through the photo.
Won four Mistralian regional tournaments in a row, graduated top of her class in Sanctum Academy…
Was the mascot for Pumpkin Pete's?
Roman cringed. He'd seen the production lines for the cereal before - it was made at a factory he'd robbed a while back - and some of the strange compounds they added to their mixture had made his hair stand on end.
Outstanding aura, physical strength, speed and stamina combined with excellent tactical thinking and an abnormally powerful semblance.
Well, this one was easy enough to prove. He whipped his scroll out of his pocket, and typed "Pyrrha Nikos" into the search engine.
'Another victory for the Invincible Girl!' blared out at him, along with others such as 'Mistral's Greatest Gem!'.
Much like the cereal she was the poster girl for, what he'd seen was enough for him to develop an instant distaste for her. "Invincible Girl"? It sounded like the title a narcissist would give themselves. Not the name people would give to someone else. It was almost as if they actually respected her! He supposed it must've looked good in the papers.
Either way, it would've been far too conspicuous to drop her in the pile for fakes.
He rolled his eyes and added the first person to the pile of the accepted.
Well, knowing the type, she'd probably be boring. Under normal circumstances, he'd have calmly emptied her wallet, but robbing one's students was frowned upon in huntsman academies.
He looked to the next one in the pile.
Miss Blake Belladonna - Age 17.
She had long and wild black locks that draped over her shoulders, and a pair of golden orbs that reflected the light back into his face even on film. Almost like a cat caught in headlights. There was also an… oddly shaped bow on her head.
Notable roles/achievements: None applicable.
He laughed.
Average aura, outstanding agility, somewhat below average stamina. Good analytical skills, quick under pressure.
Interesting, but still…
There was no fucking way any normal school would accept such a blatantly suspicious applicant.
The information in the document likely wasn't false - that none applicable simply sealed the deal. Nobody would put that on an application if they actually wanted to get into the school - they'd lie instead.
Worse still, despite this lack of accomplishment, she was supposedly an able fighter. She had to have done something to achieve that kind of talent, but for whatever reason didn't feel the need to talk about her combat training.
So, for whatever reason, she didn't want to reveal anything about her past, and that made her all the more fishy. She had something to hide, that much was clear.
As for what, Torchwick could only hazard a guess.
Well, Ms. Belladonna would have to count her lucky stars. He was in a spiteful mood, and if he was potentially inviting someone suspicious or criminal into the school, it was all the better for spiting Ozpin.
Onto the accepted pile went Blake Belladonna.
He'd already pulled the next one out by the time Belladonna's transcripts went on top of Pyrrha's.
Miss Yang Xiao-Long - Age 17.
A buxom blonde returned his stares at her photo with a challenging lilac glare and a half-smirk. Her hair hung wildly about her shoulders; it seemed almost like the mane of a lion. He smiled.
A confident one, hm? She looked like a born troublemaker, to say the very least.
Graduated from Signal Academy, destroyed a criminal night club.
A criminal night club? That sounded oddly familiar.
Wait, was this - was this the girl who had trashed Junior's club?
This was way too good to be true! According to his long time associate, the girl had a real mean streak and a tempestuous temper. She would be the perfect kind of person to bring in if Torchwick wanted to cause chaos and disorder! Just one minor teenage dispute and bam - property damage!
Above average aura, above average ability, outstanding strength and stamina. Highly confident and skilled, but lacking in self-control. Potentially devastating Semblance.
A literal blonde bombshell, one that would explode if stepped on carelessly. He could already see Ozpin's frowning face from his living room. Ms. Nikos may have been boring, but it seemed the rest of the applicants wouldn't be quite so… stable.
He checked the next applicant, and his grin twisted into a grimace.
Weiss Schnee - Age 17.
A Schnee. Perfect. Just damn perfect. Served him right for thinking Ms. Nikos was as bad as it was going to get. She looked like the rest of her infuriating family - with hair whiter than snow and perfect, crystal blue eyes. Her complexion was absolutely gorgeous, as if she'd been born with pure silk instead of skin like the rest of the world.
The only imperfection on her features was a scar on her left eye. No doubt from where a butter knife had lightly scraped her delicate skin. He wouldn't be surprised if the faunus butler who was likely responsible had been discreetly overworked to death.
Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, Finished first in the Atlesian Enterprise Tournament, Involved in numerous charity events…
And the list just stretched on.
Shit… He couldn't stand to see this girl - not even a single time. He didn't even need to meet her face-to-face to know what kind of person she'd be.
He'd met Jacques Schnee once, long ago. He was a man with a titanic ego, which would no doubt engulf his own children. This would be another Jacques… With added bitchiness.
Could he put her on the pile of fakes?
No, the Schnee name was a verification of authenticity unlike any other. It would be much, much too obvious if he left her in the rejects pile. It would give the game away immediately.
Her combat performances were par for the course for a Schnee - exceptional. Or at least, that's what he wagered. He had to tear his eyes off of it while he put it on the pile of accepted students. If he looked at it for too long, he'd probably blind himself with her glowing reputation.
Next up, a boy.
Lie Ren - Age 17.
His eyes scanned the page. He seemed normal enough, but mostly unremarkable. The details on the transcripts checked out, and he couldn't identify any of the common tricks used in forgery to make falsehoods truths, so he simply put him on the accepted pile.
Forgettable faces diluted the increasingly dangerous concoction Torchwick was beginning to see boil within that growing stack of sheets.
Nora Valkyrie - Age 17.
The more generics he could fill the gap with, the less likely Ozpin was to notice how ridiculous some of his applicants were, and here were a boy and a girl, one quiet looking and the other bubbly.
Nothing special or distinct about the pair whatsoever.
He worked through the rest of the students quickly.
Before long, there were two complete and meticulously organised bundles of bureaucracy sitting on his table.
Now, for one last thing to do.
He closed his eyes, and flicked through the pile of forgeries.
There.
He pulled one out, and inspected it.
Jaune Arc - Age 17.
Oh, it was that one. Of all of the forged transcripts, this one was by far the most blatantly false.
One didn't simply attend a top academy in Vacuo and then come out with such average results. He'd performed middlingly in all of his classes in a school that sought talent. Worse still, it was the same school that had been completely destroyed a number of years ago by an uncanny surge of Grimm. He didn't want people looking up records, so he chose the school at which there were no records left to see.
He wanted so badly to be untraceable and forgettable, and there was nothing more suspicious than a desire to remain incognito.
Not to mention that before the date that the school was destroyed, the grading system they used had been an older system than the one used in the transcript itself.
The notable roles/accomplishments section had been torn apart by a short sequence of CCTS searches. And the section on his physical talents?
With what had already been on the transcripts, when he'd seen Jaune's supposed physical attributes and aura they simply didn't have a leg to stand on.
It was probably just as fake as the rest of the application.
The only real part of it was the boy's face. It would've been awkward if he put the face of a hardened hunter there, only to turn up the goofy boy that seemed to try to avoid eye contact even on paper - an attempt to fake it would've only backfired.
He had an unruly blonde mop of hair, and blue eyes. He was awkward and scraggly, too long and too thin in the areas that had to be toned and muscular. His teeth clung to his lower lip in what appeared to be a futile attempt to hold in his own mounting nerves. He puffed out his chest, perhaps in an attempt to fool himself; it was about as convincing a ruse as the transcripts he'd forged.
Oh, dear… He wore his heart on his sleeve so proudly it could be easily captured on film. Roman pinched the bridge of his nose.
This could still work, though. This could work perfectly. Roman just had to do some touchups and make the transcript a little more… convincing.
From the looks of him, Jaune was a big dreamer without the skill or smarts to make his dreams come true. Nothing but another star-struck civilian who wanted to get into beacon for all the fame and glory.
If that was the case, there was a chance he didn't even have his aura unlocked. Which could very easily result in his death.
Nothing would reflect more poorly on Ozpin than a civilian dying in his school because they'd somehow snuck in through the admissions process.
He took out his pen, and began to scribble on the back on a blank sheet of paper.
5 minutes passed before there was a convincing and unsuspicious academic record of an aspiring huntsman named Jaune Arc lying on the table.
One covert trip to a nearby photocopier later, he had a perfect transcript for him.
He carefully placed it into the accepted pile, and smirked.
Jaune Arc could thank his fortunes. Of all the people trying to fake their way into Beacon, it was he who had been chosen by Roman.
Perhaps he'd be grateful enough to perish in an unfortunate accident for him. Then Roman might finally get to see Ozpin frown.
This was going to be golden.
If he was being allowed to have this much fun already, perhaps life at Beacon wouldn't be nearly as boring as he'd first thought.
He reached for his scroll, and phoned Ozpin. He picked up almost immediately.
"You're done?" the man asked.
"Yep. Two piles of brats, one gullible enough for honesty and the other gutsy enough to lie." Torchwick said, almost sounding bored. He couldn't let Ozpin think he was too enthusiastic about this - then he might have caught on to the trick.
"Wonderful. Glynda will pick up the transcripts soon, and then that will be all for the coming 3 days. I'd advise getting some rest and preparing your lessons. I trust you've familiarised yourself with each of the student's names and faces?"
Torchwick scoffed.
"Who do you think I am, Ozpin?" he challenged.
"Beacon's new Economics teacher, Roman Torchwick. Who else?"
He then hung up.
*X*
Ozpin put the scroll down, and took a long sip of his coffee.
"You do realise he's going to tamper with the transcripts, don't you?" asked Glynda. Her eyes seemed to jump out of her head at him.
Glynda could be unexpectedly stubborn when she needed to.
He didn't mind much. If she simply followed his orders blindly, it meant if he ever started making bad decisions she wouldn't have the gumption to disobey him.
… Although, with her glaring at him so intently, he was feeling more than a little awkward.
"Yes, Glynda. I know he will."
He pushed his glasses up, and then took another sip from his caffeinated wellspring.
"Then why do you sit here, and do nothing about it?" she yelled.
Glynda got very riled up over Torchwick, which was as of yet more than understandable. Torchwick had been, as Ozpin predicted, not very happy about his new job.
Torchwick would be won over in time and, hopefully, so would Glynda.
The years had made Ozpin patient. He was more than willing to wait years for Torchwick to come around, and could have waited centuries for Glynda to forgive him.
If only the world was willing to wait for nearly as long.
"I do nothing about it because there's, as of yet, no pressing need to act," Ozpin mused, before continuing, "Goodness, you're sounding like James."
"You're saying that tampering with official documents with the end result being scars on Beacon's reputation is not a 'pressing need to act'!?"
Ozpin gazed out across the city from the windows that surrounded his office.
"Glynda, Torchwick is a careful man. He made it incredibly far in the Vale underground for a reason - he picks his fights and tries to always ensure his success."
"And bludgeons people to death on a regular basis…" Glynda grumbled under her breath.
Ozpin repressed a sigh. Glynda could surprisingly petulant when she so desired.
"He would try to hide his acts; and just what would he do to be as covert as possible? Likely place only one or two forged documents with the real ones, which is certainly not an unmanageable number. Where's the harm in giving a fortunate soul the chance to study at the Academy of their dreams?"
"Why even give them to him if you know he's going to alter our admissions?" Glynda's voice had gained a razor sharp edge. Ozpin would have to be careful to not cut himself upon it.
"Glynda, remember the average number of false students going to Beacon? Last year, we had about twelve entering the school from the admissions we'd been given - and that time it was you and me checking them. Worse still, there was that time we left the admissions to Peaches."
Glynda shivered.
"It's safe to say he has much more experience with document forging than either of us do, Glynda. And I would take one student brought here deliberately over an accidental twenty-seven."
Plus, thought Ozpin, it will make him much more comfortable around us. Which will undoubtedly help in the long term.
From the hesitant expression she had, it seemed that he answer he'd given still wasn't enough to satisfy her completely.
"Why, Ozpin? Why go this far for… For a notorious outlaw? What's the real motive behind bringing him here?" she asked.
Ozpin chuckled.
"I already told you. Beacon needs an Economics teacher, one with combat training and unlocked Aura. Torchwick just so happened to be available."
Glynda rolled her eyes.
Ozpin felt bad for hiding his intentions from her, really, he did. He had known Glynda for a long time, and to betray her trust like this was painful.
He wasn't lying about Beacon needing an Economics teacher - he'd wanted one for a long time but they always seemed to be in short supply and of dissatisfactory quality. So, yes, Torchwick was convenient for filling the role.
But, Glynda was right,there was more to it than that.
Torchwick had plenty to offer Ozpin for his other occupation, as well. A talented fighter and brilliant economist with extensive connections to criminal underworld, and from what Ozpin himself had seen, an astute judge of character who paid meticulous attention to his surroundings.
Having him on his side would be a massive boon, but telling Glynda (or worse yet, James) that he planned to make Torchwick, a thief, crime lord, and murderer, a member of their secret assembly would undoubtedly upset them.
So, he would keep his plans to himself until Torchwick proved to him that he had what it took. He was a patient man, after all.
He drank yet another mouthful of his coffee.
It would be undoubtedly interesting to see which civilian had forged their way into Beacon among the student body. Last year, Ozpin had let that girl from team CFVY through and she had more than proven herself.
Ozpin wondered what kind of person they'd be this time around - it was always entertaining to find out.
