sing for me, my meadowlark
This is not what he wanted. He has never wanted to be a part of any of this. Yes, he is powerful in Vale, but he is still just a human.
The freak of nature standing before him is anything but, he decides, despite her outwardly innocence. Junior, his henchman, has already been knocked out cold; it leaves him vulnerable, forced to watch this thin, willowy women hold up her palm as if she is making airs to a more forgiving audience.
She does not pretend here, though. She opens her palm, and from within the depths of her soul, a flame sparks upon her fingers, growing into a veritable fire which could burn him to ashes should he make the wrong move. "My name is Cinder Fall," she says, her eyes flashing with orange-red flames which begin to outline her eyes, a monstrous effect that does nothing more than drive home the fact that Roman needs to run.
The door is closed. There is no way to escape. So, he does what he does best, what has kept him alive from the slums of Mistral to here at the top of the food chain in Vale- he lies.
Crawling back to his feet, he straightens out his hat and murmurs, "Alright, fire-face. Cool trick. What're your terms?"
"Oh," the woman titters, brushing her long hair over her shoulder as the very walls of the warehouse begins to tremble, his ears popping with the sheer pressure caused by her Aura- her magic- filling the room. "I can assure you, this is not a trick."
He swallows thickly. "Doesn't answer the question, doll."
She rolls glowing golden-amber eyes at him, her smile wicked and lopsided and sinister, every bit as cruel as Roman knows himself to be. When accompanied by fire, however, he finds nothing in common with that grin. He is a crook, and so are his men. She is not natural.
He needs to leave. She is between him and the exits.
Finally, Cinder begins her explanation. "My master has a proposition for you, Roman Torchwick. You've spent the last few years building an influence in Vale and beyond; your efforts are remarkable and appreciated." Her compliments roll off of him, slimy and cloying. He shivers as she continues, "We would like to use your services- of course, we will give you something in return for your aid."
"I highly doubt," Roman says carefully, shifting his hands into his pockets to hide how they tremble as he walks towards the door as casually as he can, "that you have anything that could be enticing enough for me to want to join you."
"We'll keep you alive."
"I'm plenty good at that myself, so no thanks."
"Even when the world ends soon?"
What is she talking about? "That's quite an ego you've got there, Miss Fall. Wouldn't want you to be boastful, though."
To his absolute horror, Cinder waves over one of her own followers, the young woman having been previously standing hidden in shadow. The dark-skinned woman looks as green as her hair, clearly sickened by whatever is in the bag she has been holding this entire time. Roman's hands pull out of his pockets to rest firmly upon his cane, ready to raise it up and begin his attack.
He does not know what is in the bag, but he will not let them take him down without a fight, after all.
That will to defend himself dies in a heartbeat, however, as the bag is opened and out crawls a tentacle-covered, slimy creature of Grimm. "Why the hell do you have that monster-" he cries, stepping back instinctively. "How- just, why-"
But the creature's spherical body begins to glow, and suddenly, he sees a pale, tight face lined with purple veins and the darkest eyes he has ever seen staring through him, almost as if the creature is a seeing stone, a portal- a CCTS connection he has never wanted to establish.
The person staring back at him is absolutely terrifying.
"This is my master," Cinder coos, clearly unaffected by the fact that she has carried Grimm nonchalantly into the room. "Salem is her name, and she shall liberate this world from its shackles- but for that, we need you, and your connections."
As if I'm going to get involved in any of this. He takes one step towards the exit; however, Cinder's other follower steps into the light, his smile sadistic in the moonlight shining in through the high windows. Roman sighs, for this young man had easily dispatched all of Junior's men singlehandedly; there is no point even pretending like he has a chance to escape.
"There's nothing you could give me," he insists, keeping his voice light and playful. They cannot know his fear. They cannot know his weakness.
"Really?" She chuckles knowingly, walking towards him. Extending her hand down by her side, he shivers as he watches stone seemingly form out of thin air, melding into a molten blade with a single flick of her wrist. "I'm sure we could find something-"
"You can't," he insists. "I'm happy and I want nothing to do with-"
"Don't you want to hear that girl's voice one day?"
Roman freezes, stock-still. "…what?" he breathes.
Cinder shrugs, gesturing towards the Grimm which floats unnaturally off the ground, the orb at its core still showing the grotesque visage of Cinder's master. "Magic is real, Roman Torchwick. We have far more power than you could ever imagine. We control the Grimm, after all. With our strength, my master could heal her, if you performed well enough."
Nausea washes over him, robbing him of the air in his lungs. This isn't- she isn't his weakness, she's his strength, so why-
Why are they able to use Neo as his singular weakness?
His traitorous mind whispers, "She would sound so sweet."
His little girl's voice- the child he has raised, the child he has loved as his own-
I could hear her speak.
After a long moment, he nods, keeping his back facing Cinder and her followers. He does not need to bother looking at her, for her smile is clear in her voice as it booms through the warehouse. "We'll contact you when the time is right, Roman Torchwick. Be ready. You've made the right decision." Her voice drops to a sickening whisper as she adds, "You'll get to hear that stray you've raised all this time thank you with her own voice soon enough. Won't that be lovely?"
He does not respond.
It is only when the clicking of her heels has finally died down that he allows himself to crumble, burying his face in his bowler hat without restraint as tears pour down his cheeks. He could hear Neo's voice-
What has he agreed to do?
He could speak to her-
Just what plan has he joined?
He could hear her laugh aloud-
To whom has he just sworn his fealty?
I won't make it out alive, will I?
…he just prays that he can hear Neo speak before the end, if this- whatever this is- is what life has become.