Cursing inwardly, plus some outwardly, Roman was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, replacing career criminals, morons that they were, with a menagerie of yahoos recruited more for their frothing anger than their track record with crimes was a bad idea. If, perhaps, someone might have known this would go poorly, and if that somebody was actually listened to, he wouldn't be in this mess right now!

The White Fang was everything Roman expected from them and then some. Loud and pompous and self important to the extreme, completely unaware that they were the dregs of their organization, the bozos who Sienna Khan could afford to lend out to some Valean criminals for an ambitious/idiotic scheme that would either make the White Fang too notorious to ignore or prove to be a useful dumping ground for their less useful members. The ones she could afford to burn if this all went badly... or succeeded too well, bringing down the hammer of law enforcement.

Or, perhaps, those who were politically awkward enough that they'd be better off out of her hair. He hadn't heard the name "Adam Taurus" yet, but he sure as hell felt it when he met with the self-important wolf-man who was apparently now Roman's primary collaborator on this scheme.

He had had to throw back quite a few shots at Junior's right after that meeting to get over that this was his life now.

Still, the White Fang soldiers had an… enthusiasm to them that made them more useful than he expected. Marginally. So marginal that the fact that they weren't totally useless only heightened how annoying it was to have to work with them. Standing at the docks, trying his damnedest to keep his temper in check, he watched as they fumbled the tasks they'd rehearsed—that was the difference between these jumped up volunteers and real criminals. Real criminals got that heists were something you practiced, not something where you showed up and "unleashed your inner badass." That this was a job, not a mission.

Ah, but the word "unleashed" gave him an idea for something to yell at these idiots. And Roman wouldn't lie—he liked riling up the dipshits when-

Ah.

Roman cursed himself for his carelessness as he realized the blade that was at his throat. Adrenaline kicked in—he'd let his anger and annoyance get the better of him and now someone had the drop on him, like he was an amateur. The Fang was rubbing off on him, weren't they? But cursing the past didn't keep him alive, so now he had to think fast. Very fast. He felt time slow to a crawl as he got a glimpse of his captor and-

A kid.

Another kid.

Between Little Red and Pyrrha, Roman had had his fill of teenagers in his life, and with everything else on his plate, he did not have patience for this.

"Do I know you?" he drawled, keeping the anger from his voice. For all he knew, he did, or at least, knew one of this brat's friends. But just imagining this kid bragging to Pyrrha later... it got his blood boiling.

"Nobody move," the dark haired girl growled to the crew. Fortunately, for once, their slack-jawed idiocy was in his favor. No cowboys here.

Roman rolled his eyes, waiting for her to say her piece, and whaddya know, she did have something to say!

"Brothers of the White Fang!" Wait, what? "Why are you aiding this scum?"

It was… she was Fang? That didn't…

But then it began to dawn on Roman. She was a kid! She was a volunteer at rallies, not someone who was in any inner circle. She was a true believer who'd been sheltered from the realities of the organization she believed in.

With a laugh, Roman knew exactly how he could handle this. "Didn't you get the memo, kid? The White Fang and I are in what you might call a… joint business venture."

He could feel the kid's dumbass eyes go wide. Which meant she wasn't paying attention, and having a trick cane was…

BOOM!

Roman launched himself forward as he fired a shot at his feet, rolling slightly to keep the kid's blade from giving him a second mouth. She was green, inexperienced—which made getting caught by her a hell of a lot more embarrassing—so her instinct was to move her weapon to where it would be safe as she was startled by the attack. Wouldn't want to hurt anyone after all!

With a joyful grin, Roman whirled on his former captor, now teenage girl surrounded by enemies, very, very much in over her head. He chuckled as she moved to bail, giving her a head start, letting her think she had a chance before he got a chance to vent some frustration on dumbass kids who just don't get that this wasn't a fucking-

He felt something strike him right in the face.

Not a weapon. No, no, no, that would be yet another failure of his peripheral awareness, but that, at least, would be what to expect in a fight. No, it wasn't a weapon.

It was a banana peel.

Another kid.

Roman pulled it from his face with his rage only barely in check to get a look at his assailant, cursing the White Fang's demonstrable incompetence at securing a site. This new kid was a Faunus, too, a monkey, judging by the tail. Unfortunately, him bringing the banana peel himself robbed Roman of his best shot at taunting him.

Now two on one (the White Fang was sure proving their value here!), Roman didn't love his odds, but he knew he wasn't gonna get a choice in the matter. The Fang soldiers were watching, and they were paying attention to see how he fared. Plus, they hated him on account of all the racism and general disdain. He had to prove something here, demonstrate that he wasn't just talk. But the good news was, even if Roman wasn't a tournament fighter... you didn't climb the ranks in the underworld if you didn't get your hands bloody.

So what was he up against? Two kids, Huntsmen students, likely—but also fresher than he'd expect, so they must be new initiates (an ugly reminder as he prayed they weren't Pyrrha's friends), and their weapons were… some kind of double sword gun nunchuk gun sword thing and a staff that was probably also a gun. Tricky types, the agile sort, so he couldn't just run circles around them, but...

Roman was pissed off. He wasn't reasonable and he wasn't doing things smart, but with everything on his plate, he felt he was entitled to a bit of venting!

These teenagers were all fired up on self-righteous heroism, but Roman was stronger and more experienced and a damn sight pissed off, all of which he was bringing to bear as he raced forward to let Melodic Cudgel remind these brats that they weren't in some school exercise, but a real gods-damned criminal operation, and that meant you had to take your licks!

They had Semblances—of course they had goddamn fancy Semblances—dodgy ones, and they were, as they appeared, nimble fighters. But Roman wasn't in the mood to play along. No taunts, no banter, just a pissed-off criminal operative venting some familial frustration and a healthy dose of self-loathing upon some self-righteous upstarts!

A savage blow across the monkey-boy's face sent him toppling backwards as Roman whirled on the kittycat. She tensed, but Roman felt a wild grin come to his face as he could see on her face the dawning realization that she was out of her league now. That she had made a mistake putting herself in this, that she was in danger, and no bravado was going to beat this.

She struck, but there was a hiccup in her movements, her hesitance easy to exploit as Roman deflected her katana, and caught her behind the knee on the backswing, taking her off her feet. Slamming her to the ground, her aura taking the hit, but with his cane aimed right at her face, kitty was about to learn if she had nine-

"Blake!"

Oh hell.

Roman's eyes shot to the voice he wished he didn't recognize to see what he wished he didn't know would be there. Gangly, uncoordinated, and inexperienced with the sword and shield. No threat to the White Fang soldiers who'd been happy to just watch Roman fight the Faunus kids. This one did not cut an imposing image, not to the Fang soldiers and certainly not to Roman, but he knew, if he were here-

He heard the strangled cry of a White Fang soldier crumpling under the weight of an armored Huntress landing square on his shoulders. Another soldier, next to his fallen comrade, turned, only to take a sharp kick in the face. Panicked, the men nearby tried to rush her, but Pyrrha Nikos was a damn sight better than any of these wannabe revolutionaries.

Leaping into the air, she propelled herself into a flip as she kicked off one soldier and flung her shield square into another's chest, with enough force that it could bank off it, hit another in the face, and still carry on to bounce off the Dust container just as Pyrrha finished her flip and landed gracefully on one knee. She held up her hand and snatched her shield out of the air on the rebound. Five men down and she hadn't even used her real weapon...

How in the hell she'd pulled off that trick shot… Roman could have sworn it had curved in the air to make it to her hand. But as she looked up and met his eyes, Roman knew he had damn bigger problems to deal with. She rose to her feet, gracefully, unhurried in spite of still being surrounded by foes. But they all paused for her—everyone made space for the Invincible Girl.

The White Fang rabble weren't in her league. But she wasn't looking at them.

So this was it.

Roman began to circle her, and Pyrrha returned the gesture, both wary to be the first to strike. Fortunately, a hesitancy to fight the Invincible Girl wasn't going to make anyone suspicious. Wasn't like any of the White Fang "soldiers" were living up to their talk right now when faced with fighting someone they'd all seen on TV. All of them together could probably beat her, but… who wanted to be the first?

So they focused on the other, less notoriously dangerous kids and left her for Roman.

Good.

"This is what you're doing?" she asked, quietly.

"It's business, sister," he replied with a well-practiced sneer, "Just business."

"Ever considered a career change?"

"It's this or prison."

It seemed they'd run out of words. Or, at least, words that could keep the mask from slipping. Roman wasn't inclined to fight his niece, but it seemed that neither of them really had a choice right now.

She shot forward, a Xiphos, his style of sword, in her hands as Roman braced himself for the strike.

"Alright, kiddo!" he cried, "Here comes nothing!"

Roman charged forward, his practice sword gripped in his hands as Pyrrha bit her lip and took up her defensive stance. Just like he taught her, but… she had to learn there were limits to just having a good stance.

He staggered his charge as she fell for the feint, leaning forward and leaving herself exposed as his own weapon lashed forward and-

SHING!

Pyrrha was quick, damn quick, and even if he'd managed to unbalance her a little, she still managed to deflect his strike. Roman jumped back, sword at the ready, as Pyrrha launched her counter attack with a two-handed strike.

She was good! Really good, not just "good for a twelve year old." Pyrrha's moves were fluid and precise, and—not to brag—she was holding her own against a guy who was pretty damn good at fighting. Roman wasn't exactly a "tournament class" Huntsman—what with having been expelled and all—but just cause he wasn't welcome in the formal rings didn't mean Roman didn't spar, and the bouts he took place in didn't stop at "aura in the red."

So he had to give some credit to his niece for keeping him on his toes. But she'd best not forget that her Uncle Roman had more than a decade on her, plus some real experience in fighting. She was doing good at deflecting his strikes, but let's see how long she could keep it up!

"Not bad, not bad," he smirked, "But you're gonna have to step it up if you think I'm impressed with just that!"

"Just watch!" she shouted back in her high, excited voice, her eye's flashing in determination.

Roman had to admit, his practice sword streaking forward as he pressed the assault, he always felt the pride swell in his heart whenever he sparred with Pyrrha. He'd always had a role in raising her, just by the sheer necessity of a single mother not having the time to raise a kid on her own. And because Roman didn't have a clue on how to raise a kid, he'd just entertained her with, then taught her, the stuff he was good at, things like juggling and sleight of hand. As she got older and proved to be a natural athlete, Roman had started teaching her the things he knew from his brief time in the Academy, and he watched as she just took to the sword like a fish to water.

It was funny—he'd only ever stepped in in the first place out of a sense of familial duty. Roman knew what getting raised by his mother was like and Pyrrha was not a girl who needed an environment that strict and… monochromatic. One with fewer prayer candles. But his... type of work meant that he was free during the day, able to watch Pyrrha while his sister was working. But it didn't take long at all before Roman had become really attached to Pyrrha, and he just… ended up practically raising her.

His sister didn't question him when he claimed his "night shift" job gave him a flexible schedule to help with the childcare, the availability was just too important to lose. Plus, he did bring in good money, which took care of Pyrrha's school fees and the other expenses of raising a child. Getting to the point when they'd soon start asking questions on how much money he was bringing in, but Roman figured that Alcestis wouldn't complain when he would soon be the one letting her quit her second job and footing Pyrrha's Academy bills. She was a lock for whatever school she looked at, even Sanctum, but Sanctum, even with a scholarship, meant room and board, weapons maintenance, and enough else that was pricey. He and Alcestis had been socking away money for just this reason, but it wouldn't be enough on its own. Not without a little bit of sidework on his part.

Yep… Roman had a job coming up that was really gonna show that off. Easy work, no risk, did all the planning and he was guaranteed a solid payday. Had a few small issues to smooth out, like finding a replacement lookout after Azzurro got pinched for being an idiot, but those were nothing. Roman could practically already count the money. Even knew exactly what he was going to be the first thing he bought with his cut—as he deflected Pyrrha's counter, he thought about the mechashift sword he'd seen in the armory. Lightweight and agile, it'd be perfect for Pyrrha's style.

But before he could do anything nice for his niece, Roman had to make sure she paid her dues, and so he pressed his assault, a wild series of blows that Pyrrha parried, but each one rang out, the vibrations of his blows going all the way up her arm. She was tiring and soon, he'd be pressing her aura to-

"Watch this!" Pyrrha suddenly shouted and- AWK!

Pyrrha stomped on his foot and Roman cried out in surprise-

"Son of a-" he cursed, staggering backwards from the force of the headbutt he just took to the skull. And she did it with his mother's tiara, adding insult to injury. Shaking the stars from his eyes and ignoring the ringing in his skull, Roman tried to get a sense of how the full battle was going, to see if the terrain could be used to his advantage or if some White Fang soldiers could be thrown in her path, but Pyrrha wasn't giving him that chance.

Pressing the attack, Roman struggled to duel her. He recognized her fighting style—hell, he'd taught it to her—but her blade flashed and danced in ways Roman just couldn't see coming! She'd turned it into something more in the last few years and damned if it wasn't different to see it right in your face instead of on a screen. It took everything he had just to deflect her attacks without letting her lead him around the battlefield to where she wanted him to go.

He had to admit it: Pyrrha was a better fighter than him. Nobody here, not among the kids, not among the White Fang, could really match her. Even Neo would have a fight here—hell, even Cinder might find her a real opponent. He'd be proud if this wasn't such a crisis.

"Shit," he hissed as he just narrowly dodged a bullet—yep, her weapon seemed to whip from form to form without giving him a chance to realize what he was fighting—feeling the draw of his aura as it only barely gave him a chance to weave away from it. She wasn't playing around, and, unfortunately, neither was he.

"You can't win this," she hissed back, her meaning obvious.

But Roman… Roman wasn't going to surrender. Even if she didn't give him many options here, Roman was not going to jail. The claws of desperation were wrapped tight around his brain, bleeding adrenaline into his system as he-

FUCKING SHIT!

Well fuck him sideways, Red was here!

Roman ducked the scythe—kid was swinging a blade bigger than she was—as he tried not to let her push him backwards. He couldn't beat Pyrrha in the first place, and now she had backup!

"Ruby!" Pyrrha barked, "I've got this!"

Red seemed surprised to hear it, and it gave Roman a wild surge of hope, the familiar, desperate feeling of sensing there just might be an out for him.

As Red stepped back, giving Roman some breathing room, he picked up that she was evidently startled to hear Pyrrha take a voice like that at all. A part of Roman's analytical mind whirred fast enough to pick up that his niece's reputation was more gentle than he'd expect for a combat champion—good for her. But their attention was diverted, they both had one eye off of him and that was all Roman needed to fish a device out of his belt and toss it at their feet.

"Ladies?" he smirked, keeping the mask of the jovial criminal intact as he tilted his hat the split second before all three dove away. Roman sprinted like mad, knowing that Red had a Maidens-cursed speed Semblance, but with conflict between her and Pyrrha, and with the Bullhead so close, and-

BOOM!

The explosion went off with tremendous force, a handmade Dust blasting charge that was designed more to blast through walls and concrete than work as an antipersonnel explosive, but it made a cloud of dust and smoke and a damn loud enough noise to send everyone scurrying for a few seconds which was what he needed right now!

Roman leapt into the Bullhead and yelled at the pilot, "Take off, take off now, we don't have time, bail!"

But as the smoke cleared, Roman could see there was yet another kid, another redhead, this one a girl with orange hair and a bunch of swords… floating behind her in some crazy Semblance bullshit.

And she looked pissed.

Shit, what was with these teenagers? Where the hell were they all coming from?

But this one… she raised her crazy floating swords up and started summoning some kind of insane green energy orb and-

She's gonna shoot down the bullhead!

"GET US IN THE AIR," he screamed to the pilot, realizing he was a sitting duck. "FUCKING NOW OR WE'RE DEAD!"

He could see the light charging, some kind of crazy-

He heard Pyrrha scream, "GET DOWN!"

Roman was shocked to hear it, his instincts almost compelled him to yell "NO!" to refuse to let her reveal that she had any connection to him other than cruel disdain…

But she wasn't yelling at him.

She tackled the other girl, the orb unleashing a superlaser just in time to go wide and just barely miss nicking the Bullhead. The beam sliced through the shipping crates with a force that would have annihilated the aircraft. And the master thief in it. She had…

How cleverly underhanded…

Roman, however, didn't get to see the fallout. The Bullhead was off like a shot, taking to the air as fast as it could while, somehow, even under the roar of the engines he could still hear Pyrrha apologize, insisting she'd seen something, making excuses for throwing the crazy orange-haired girl's shot off, as though she thought Roman had another trick up his sleeve instead of just making her miss.

Was he actually hearing her? Or was he just projecting onto her what he would do in this scenario, lying like the devil to deflect attention and protect himself at all costs? He shifted nervously, and not just because his plans had hit a "everything around him is fucking insane" snag.

Cause if he was hearing Pyrrha right, that meant… that meant she had an awful lot of her uncle's character. And Roman didn't like thinking about that.

He never should have contacted… no matter. Can't change the past. He had bigger problems, anyways, problems where he'd have to deal explaining how this robbery had gone right to hell.

Thanks to Renarde and Six02 for feedback on this chapter!

Took a bit of a break from fanfic after the latest volume ended as it did. Put a bad taste in my mouth, and needed to take a break from writing and posting to reassess things. Particularly with this chapter, where I'm stuck basically rewriting canon for the scene until Pyrrha steps in and changes up the encounter. But on the flip side, hey, young Pyrrha! A cute scene from happier times, and some hints as to what caused the downfall. Looking forward to sharing the next chapter, where Roman has to face those "bigger problems," now that the docks heist went bad.