He drew the cigar from the humidor and ran it beneath his nose, taking in the scent of fine, Vacuan tobacco. Centuries of tradition, in both horticulture and cigar making, had gone into this work of smokable art, hand rolled by an experienced master and stamped with a reputable name on the band. And all the better, imported under the table, without any tariffs to trim the profit margin. Quality stuff, for men of refinement.

But not for right now. He didn't have time for a cigar, even though his nerves could really use one to calm him down. With a sigh, Roman returned it to its humidor and closed the box. Then he returned it to the false bottom of the cabinet, to make sure nobody else got to enjoy it. He wasn't in one of his safe houses—this was a place he wasn't supposed to be at, officially. It was the cheap office of a warehouse that, as far as the world knew, had no ties to Roman Torchwick and was neither owned by him nor used as a meeting ground for certain… delicate matters.

Like the meeting he was about to have now. He exited the office, looking over the endless rows of crates and storage units, anonymously uniform to all but a highly trained eye—like his—that could tell which ones were actually full of linens for export to Vacuo and which ones were full of treasures that either the taxman or Johnny Law weren't entitled to know about.

He chuckled as he took the steps from the office to the warehouse floor. The place was empty, of course, but he took them quickly. He was at his most visible, most exposed, when on these stairs, and some habits never went away, even when he was now more than a cat burglar. Which was what had him laughing in the first place: for all his reputation as a "Master Thief" and all the speculation on the evening news, his high profile robberies were pocket change compared to the haul he brought in skirting excise taxes and overseeing things moving without particular scrutiny. The dust store robberies weren't about money, they were hardly even about the product. No, it was about being seen doing them.

Well… he could think about that later. There were bigger matters on his mind right now, matters that were better dealt with in the shadows. Roman knew how to hide, how to disappear from sight, and particularly for this visitor, he knew that… for now, at least, he didn't want to be seen.

But he couldn't delay it much longer. Right on time, she was here. For anyone, walking into an empty warehouse was always going to be an unusual feeling, and his guest definitely had her guard up. But that only made her seem more like, well...

She looked so much like her mother… his fearless big sister, the golden girl who could do no wrong… who always made him seem so much worse by comparison.

"Were you followed?" he asked, quietly emerging from the shadows.

She turned in surprise—she was a tournament champion, she was vigilant in the same way he was, but in some things… Roman was simply the best in the world. But her surprise quickly melted away, replaced by that brilliant, sunny smile that Roman hadn't forgotten, would never forget.

"You're being paranoid, uncle," she laughed, "But, no, I wasn't followed."

First mistake, he thought, knowing that Neo had definitely followed her from the Bullhead docks to this meeting, but a forgivable one.

"It's not paranoia," he grunted, "You and I both know- ooof!"

His warning was cut off as she pulled him into a sudden hug. Roman was not… touchy feely, but after the initial shock of it all, he did return his niece's hug, even accepted the kiss on the cheek, first left, then right. The traditional way. So she was gonna make this painful, huh? Just his luck…

Loosening from her grip, Roman cleared his throat. "Pyrrha… you have to be careful. You can't be associated with me, just think of your career-"

"You're family, uncle, family I haven't seen in years," she shot back, her eyes narrowing, "And that means-"

"Was family," he corrected, "And I haven't been an Igni in years, Pyrrha, something your mother made damn clear the last time I saw you…" He saw the protest forming on her lips and knew to cut it off fast. "Listen, I know no daughter wants to hear this, but your mother knows what she's talking about. I'm a Torchwick now, not an Igni, and that means this isn't a reunion and more so... I am bad news, kiddo. Bad for you, bad for everyone. I wouldn't have called you here unless I had business I couldn't not tell you in person."

He could see the frustration on her face—teenagers, right?—and braced himself for what was coming.

But she held her tongue. He knew Alcestis and his mother had surely explained this already to Pyrrha, that her uncle was expunged from the family, not just kicked out of their lives but never to be mentioned or acknowledged again, a tragic, long-ago death rather than an explicit banishment to another continent. That whatever bond they'd had when she was a child, he was dangerous to all of them, beyond their help, and liable to drag down with him anyone who tried.

But dammit all if he wasn't touched to know she had that Igni spark that said to never turn your back on family.

"I… suppose I'm overdue to congratulate you on your admission to Beacon," he said, trying to gruffly switch the topic to a lighter tone, "I'm sure you're… adapting well to the school and..."

And what? He was proud of her? That seeing her on the television in Junior's bar, Lisa Lavender breathlessly reporting that Pyrrha Nikos would be coming to Vale, hearing the whole room of hardened criminals send up a cheer as they all felt the stirring of patriotic pride that Vale would be taking the Amity Cup for sure… Roman knew that talking about this was a mistake. He had to get to the point.

"Your partner..." he said, feeling the emotional weight shift in his gut.

"Jaune?" she asked, her eyes suddenly flashing with that familiar Igni determination. Protectiveness, really—Roman was too late, the boy was already part of her circle, and that meant she wasn't going to take this easy.

He sighed, "I don't wanna be the bad guy, here, but you've gotta know how he got to Beacon."

Ah, now he could see her really tense.

"I got him there," he explained, "He paid one of my outfits for transcripts. A forgery, my work, which was how I recognized the name when I saw you on the news, and he put some good lien to it. But that's all he had. No records, no skills, my guy who handled the front end said he thought for sure the kid'd be Grimm chow in the Forest. He doesn't belong at Beacon and the longer it takes before he's expelled-"

"He's not going to be expelled," she said, as though it was a fact carved upon stone tablets. Brothers alive, did she ever sound like Alcestis did, before… before Roman learned that there were limits to family loyalty. "And I know he wasn't… fully prepared for Beacon, but he passed Initiation-"

"You mean you carried him through Initiation, kid—come on, the boy didn't have a clue when my-"

"I can teach him-"

Pyrrha's interruption, however, ignited the spark for Roman's temper. "And that's the kind of thing that gets people killed, Pyrrha!"

The two of them glared at each other. Oh, he felt the familiar stirring in his blood that meant family: the sense that he was about to get into an intractable, pitched shouting match against someone he cared about because the whole idiot family was too damn stubborn to ever listen to reason, himself included.

It had been a loooooong time, hadn't it?

He took a moment to let his blood cool before continuing. "Well, can't say I haven't warned you. Whatever you might think of him, the boy's a fraud, and that's gonna come down on somebody's head eventually, but," he suddenly laughed, a harsh and barking sound, "I gotta say, your loyalty's touching, but it's gonna be the death of you! You have to understand..."

Weariness came over him all of a sudden, his anger draining as he realized that they weren't talking about her partner anymore.

Pyrrha's eyes softened as well. "I don't turn my back on… on anyone. Mom was wrong, you're not-"

"Your mother knows what I've done and you don't. Trust me, kiddo, I've-"

"Larceny?" she shot back, "Grand Theft, Burglary, Breaking and Entering, Armed-"

"It's more than stealing," he tried to explain, not that she'd give him a chance nor was he inclined to admit to anything.

"So what?" The fire was back in her voice, "You're a criminal, a bad guy, I know that. If you don't remember, I saw it, too. And maybe you do belong in prison-" That stung a good bit more than he thought it would. "-but you're still my uncle. You raised me as much as anyone-"

"Don't say that!" he cried, a sudden jolt of emotion cutting into his voice, "You don't… I want what's best for you. Your mother, your grandmother, they… it's for the best that you don't-"

"Everyone seems to know what's best for me," she answered, coldly, "Must save a lot of time not having to ask what I think."

"Pyrrha-"

"No! I'm sick of this! I'm sick of hearing the same excuse every time, how it's 'bad for my career' or to 'think of my reputation' and that's supposed to be reason enough to kick someone out of the family or expel a friend-"

Roman arched an eyebrow. "He's a friend now?"

Pyrrha blushed, here eyes darting away... but only for a moment before locking back on Roman's, flashing with determination. "For the first time in years, I've met someone who doesn't see my 'career' when he talks to me. Someone who sees a person, and doesn't feel the need to tell me how to live my life. He's… he's more than you think, Uncle Roman. He's not a liability."

He just shook his head. "Kid, you can't… You can't be this loyal to people who don't deserve it! It's noble, but it's stupid. He's a ticking time bomb; it's only a matter of time before he gets found out, and when he does, he's out the door, and even you can't stop that. The only question is how much of you's gonna get taken out with him."

They stared at each other, both knowing that there weren't any words they could say that could meaningfully sway the other at this. That these were their final words on the matter. But with neither speaking… it was hard for anger to flare without fuel. He saw a flickering shadow of sadness cross her face and it quickly spread to Roman as well. This was family, his niece, the girl he'd seen grow up and amaze him as a precocious child, now a rising star, and he couldn't be there to cheer her on because…

Because of some very, very good reasons.

Pyrrha swallowed, forcing back her emotions as she said, "I… I am going to get a hug from you before I leave."

Roman chuckled, unable to keep himself from raising his arms up. Pyrrha moved in and they embraced, briefly. He'd been a Valean for too long—living among the emotionally repressed had made him hesitate to hug his own niece. But as he released her and felt her arms disentangle from him, Roman had to admit, he had missed this girl.

"You were a good uncle," she said, "And I'm not giving up on you."

"You don't..." then he thought better of it, giving a gruff, "Thanks. I just… I'm proud of you, kiddo. You're making the whole family proud."

She gave him a faint, hopeful smile. "Do you… I mean, is there a way I could-"

Roman shook his head. Painful as it was, he had to say it. "No. The world doesn't know we're related and it won't learn. Ever. And I won't let you risk that. I've… I've made my life, Pyrrha. They were my choices, and I gotta live by them. I'll be cheering for you in the Vytal, but… but we won't cross paths again."

He expected Pyrrha to fight him on that. That he'd have to insist that there was no other option. And he couldn't lie:

It hurt that he was wrong.

This wasn't exactly on the books, but what nobody knew couldn't hurt nobody. Neo lived by that reasoning as often as not.

Between her Semblance and her considerable experience as a cat burglar, Neo could just go wherever she wanted, watch what she wanted to watch, and do as she pleased, with no one the wiser. And that meant she could stow away on a Bullhead and follow Roman's apparent niece back to Beacon to get some answers about what exactly was going on here.

Neo had a few guesses, but they weren't enough to satisfy her curiosity. That Roman had a famous niece wasn't a new discovery, she'd actually known it for over a year by now. It had first come up while they were drunk off their asses on fine, imported Atlesian spirits, freshly looted from the docks, and watching the Mistralian Regional tournament on a beat up television in one of their safe houses. It was a good time, in the heady, comparatively carefree days before Fire Bitch came into their lives.

"Thaatzz… m'niece," he had hiccuped, pointing at the girl on the television. Neo gave him a playful roll of her eyes as he shook his head. "Iss true! She's m'sister's… usedta babysit her when she was liddle..." his eyes grew watery, "Usedta… usedta show her-"

His words were interrupted as a sudden burst of action exploded on the screen. Nikos had suddenly switched up her style and abandoned her careful, nimble defense in favor of a sudden burst of all-out offense. The announcer was barely able to keep up, the crowd was going wild, and Neo was legitimately impressed—girl had moves. A whole flurry of blows, almost too fast to track until-

Her eyes went wide as she suddenly saw a flash of metal as Nikos's opponent disarmed her, her sword flying from her hand.

But… Roman was just laughing.

Because… she wasn't disarmed… her opponent's blade was still rising upwards, ecstatic at "disabling" his foe, only she'd… she'd let herself be disarmed because she didn't need a sword for this…

Her fist was free. Her opponent was wide open.

She punched right through his defenses and caught him square in the throat. The big man went down hard, gasping and choking as Nikos caught her sword in midair, shifted it to a spear, and put it right to her fallen opponent. An impressive victory.

"I totter dat!" Roman cried, falling backwards into the couch, "Taught- totter how to do that... neck... punch... thing..."

Neo was drunk as hell, but she had to admit… the girl's moves did have a certain… Torchwick-ness to them. She was a tricky fighter, analytical and careful… until the time to strike when she'd take advantage of her opponent's overconfidence and brought the hammer down so swiftly there wasn't a chance to fight back. Just like her self-proclaimed uncle.

"Good times… good times..." he murmured, trying to sound simply nostalgic, but Neo could hear the notes of regret and self loathing thick in his voice.

She didn't really want to push it. Roman respected her privacy, so she respected his. But it definitely stuck with her, a rare glimpse into his mind, critical context for what these past few months had been for him.

Roman was the only family Neo had. She didn't really have anyone else; no one from her past that would make her suddenly flip the way Roman had. When the announcement came—and it hit everywhere—that his niece would be coming to Beacon, to Vale, she saw the way his grip on his cane tightened, the way his face snapped into its well-practiced look of aloof disregard. Neo could read right through it.

There were all of two people in the world Roman truly cared for. Her, the one woman he was close to, and his niece, the woman he had pushed himself as far away from as possible. Neo didn't know exactly what to make of Pyrrha Nikos, Miss Fancy Champion herself, but Roman was the only person who truly mattered to Neo, and she wasn't going to let him come to harm if she could help it.

So she had followed the Invincible Girl to Beacon. Girl was good, paid attention, even when outside the ring, but… nobody was as good as Neo was when it came to shadowing someone. In stealth and in reading a person… though the Champion wasn't making the second part hard. It was clear on her face—the meeting with her uncle hadn't gone well. She was upset, at him, at herself, at a lot of things (this was the kind of frustration that went deep and involved a lot of people) and wherever she was going, she was going there with a purpose in mind.

Seriously, Neo was having a hard time keeping up with the girl's stupidly long legs as she power-walked her way across campus. Yep, she was definitely related to Roman with his stupid stilt legs and stupid gait!

Fortunately, she stopped in front of a blond guy and a couple girls—Neo could swear she recognize, like, half of them, but Neo made a point of not remembering faces, so… they were pretty anonymous—as she said something quietly to the blond, and made an excuse to pull him away from the group and tell him something in private.

Which 1) meant the juicy secrets were about to finally be spilled and 2) she wasn't power walking any longer. So Neo was a fan of this development. But then, of course, she had to lead him to the roof, and Neo, already annoyed by having to jog to keep up with the world famous athlete, was doubly annoyed by the stairs.

Annoyance, however, was muted as the champion turned to face the blond pretty much as soon as the door had closed behind her.

"Jaune… I know."

His eyes went wide. Neo didn't know what she knew, but evidently, it had been bad. Bad enough that it pissed Roman off, and that meant that Neo was not inclined to like this Mr. Jaune.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about..." he attempted to lie.

It was a joke to even imagine he could lie on this, and Neo could see from the look on the Champion's face that she didn't have time for jokes. Blondie seemed to catch onto this and looked away, utterly ashamed.

"I'm not… I'm not going to tell anyone," she said, quietly, "But I need you to know-"

"To know what?" he snapped, "That you know I'm a-"

But she cut him off, insistently, before he could drop the juicy details. "I need you to know that I'm on your side."

He blinked, cut off from his defensiveness.

"You're my partner, Jaune. You-"

Scoffing, he cut her off. "Because I was the first person you saw in-"

"Because I pinned you to a tree and sought you out!" Oh dang, now Neo really wished she knew more of the details. "And because you're my partner, Jaune, that means we are on a team together. No matter what, every problem I have is now a problem you have and every problem you have… it's a problem for me to solve, too. Like it or not, I'm on Team Jaune. And that means I'm helping you." Her voice grew quiet. "I already had one fight today, Jaune. I really don't want to have another."

Blondie looked up, his eyes—shit, he had pretty eyes, so soft and so blue—painfully sad as he mumbled, "You don't… you don't get it." He slumped down to take a seat on a ledge, and the Champion gently took a seat beside him. "I thought I- I thought I could do this, but you've seen me! I'm- I'm a joke, Pyrrha! I don't… I know you want to help, Pyr, but I'm just gonna drag you down."

Neo was mostly swooning over the sad blond and wanting to just give him a big hug and ruffle his hair and reassure him it'd all be better, but something he had just said was not the right thing to say to the Invincible Girl right now. She suddenly stood up, her energy changing to something fierce as she turned to look at her partner.

"Do you want to stay at Beacon or not?" He tried to stumble through some words in response, but the Champion wasn't about to give him that. "I said: do you want to be a Huntsman or not!"

"I do!" he shot back, and even Neo had to admit… there was some fire in his eyes. His pretty, pretty eyes...

"Then I'm gonna make you work for it," she said, "I've seen how much aura you've got—so I know exactly how much you can give me. I am going to put you through your paces, push you past your limits, and make you a Huntsman. You want to get there? It takes work. People say I'm 'Invincible' not because I can't get hurt, but because I put in more hours, because I work out and practice harder than anyone else. And now I'm going to make you work just as hard. Jaune," she looked him in the eye with a severity that Neo was loving, "Are you up for this?"

Blue Eyes's previous confidence seemed to quail. "I- I guess I-"

"CAN YOU DO IT!" she barked.

"I CAN!" he shot back, by reflex as much as anything.

And then she smiled, her expression softening. "I know you can. And even when you don't think you can… just remember that I've got your back, Jaune. You're gonna make it. Trust me."

He blushed. "Th-thanks, Pyr," he said.

Well, well, well… Neo had to admit, this had gone quite a bit differently than what she'd expected. Maybe there was something to these two… they were interesting, and that was the one thing Neo really cared about in people. But... she had time to see more of them later. She didn't really feel the need to watch them spar—the potential for a hilariously mismatched beatdown seemed to have evaporated, and it wasn't like the promise of cafeteria food was keeping her around.

But as she headed back to the Bullheads, Neo had to wonder what she was going to make of this… she certainly wouldn't be telling Roman she'd been here, not a chance, but what insight had she gained from watching the Champion? What had she unpuzzled about the, apparently fraught, relationship she had with her criminal uncle?

Not a damn thing… well, she had discovered that a sad, helpless Blue Eyes flipped all her switches. But Neo, for once, wasn't going to make her move, because this thing with Roman and his niece was bigger… for now. But it was intriguing that the champion seemed to have set out to prove something with this Jaune… something more than just proving her uncle wrong. And there was a lot you could do with somebody who had something to prove.

When he started his career as a criminal, when he moved beyond the pickpocketing and minor burglaries and started to get involved in real crime, Roman had never thought that so much of a criminal enterprise involved careful paperwork.

But by all the Maidens, did it ever.

The funniest thing of all was that he was doing something he dreamed of as an idiot kid, he was counting the loot from a successful operation, seeing the profit of his labor… and carefully ensuring that he'd correctly tallied it all up and ensuring that it was stored properly in the correct locations and set up to be laundered with more attention and detail than the plan to actually acquire the money in the first place.

But it had some therapeutic value. After his… encounter with Pyrrha, mind-numbing boredom did help take some of the edge off the reopening of old wounds. But that seemed to emphasize how he couldn't help but feel cheated, that his juvenile dreams of becoming a master criminal were far from the dull reality that was now before him… in the form of spreadsheets.

With a lien card, money was only ever… numbers, distant, aloof, and electronic. A rich man was a rich man and a poor man a poor man because a far off computer told other computers see how much money he has. There was nothing you could point to, it was all in what you could make happen. Swipe the card and say this shirt, this food, this car, this house is now yours. It did away with the illusions, at least, made it clear what money truly was, but at the same time, it lacked some of the romance of the old crime novels, where men carefully counted out cash or coins in a dingy back room.

Now it was just… accountancy. Making sure certain numbers were slightly adjusted in one book and certified with another to make the numbers in the far off computers look clean. It was… clinical. And tedious. No less tedious than what he'd imagine counting stacks of cash would be, but in that, you could hold in your hand the fruit of your labor and feel its heft.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Roman scanned his paperwork once more. He was tired and his eyes were sore, but mistakes here made dead men. Just had to remember that fifteen minutes of careful inspection could save him from fifteen years in prison. He'd already had a taste of prison, and he had no intention of going back.

But his musings were interrupted as he heard the click of his door. He didn't have any appointments and none of his men would be so stupid as to intrude on him while he was counting money, so it meant there was only one woman it could be.

Cinder Fall.

Maidens, which of his crimes had been so bad for him to be cursed with her acquaintance? Roman worked with killers and crime lords and pushers, was on a first name basis with men who did things that repulsed him even as he enabled it, but Cinder was something different. Something a little less than human. She had a touch of the Grimm to her, something that triggered his deepest, most primal senses—his most fundamental fears—whenever he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. Roman knew that this wasn't a criminal entering his office.

This was a devouring Maw.

And if you didn't find something else to distract her with, you got swallowed up too. Greed incarnate, an appetite beyond even his own that wouldn't be satisfied until all the world was hers.

But experience had taught Roman how to deal with monsters, even if she was a bigger one than the rest of them. You didn't show them an inch of fear, you kept them pointed on their appetites, and you kept that appetite fed, lest you end up on the menu. Keep it going long enough, they get what they want, and that means they move on to greener pastures.

"Cinder," he grunted, as though she was just a temporary annoyance, refusing to give her any sense that he was damn scared of her.

"Roman," she replied, equally curt. "We need to discuss a change in the plan."

Ah yes, the plan. His favorite topic to discuss, particularly when there was a "change" coming.

The plan was simple: gather dust to manage a big fireworks festival of terrorism against Vale to force all hands on deck—and out of Beacon—so that Roman could get Cinder into the vaults deep beneath the school and acquire the package that Roman couldn't quite comprehend what it was, just that it was valuable enough that Vale and Atlas wanted to keep it out of Cinder's hands. He wasn't a fan of the terrorism, but Roman had done bad enough things before, even if not at this scale. Besides, it kept the Maw pointed away from him.

"We've hit a snag-" yes, he knew this, she was building towards something, "-as the best men you could hire were effortlessly bested by a child… and you didn't fare so much better..."

He raised an eyebrow at her. Of course she opened with a barb, but one he wouldn't rise to. "Hmmm, yes," he agreed, "a shame the news wasn't reporting a successful robbery and child murder. You've dressed me down on this already, Cinder, weeks ago, when it happened, so get to what you really want to talk to me about."

She smiled, the closest thing to genuineness Roman had ever seen on her face. She enjoyed when he pushed back, and that always left him unsettled. "I anticipated this possibility and prepared an alternative source of manpower… an organization that likewise could use a considerable quantity of dust and has some experience with illegal operations."

Oh he did not like where this was going.

"I've secured the assistance of the White Fang."

Ah, hell.

She continued, Roman carefully masking his opinion on this development the whole time. "I've organized a meeting between you, me, and the leader of the Valean cell—the local cell is… less hardened than I had expected, but I expect you to direct them as needed to complete the plan."

Yep. That was Cinder's MO right there. Dump a twist on him and hold him responsible for when they proved to not work out how either of them expected.

"The White Fang," he feigned a stifled chuckle, "Well, if you thought this operation was a zoo before..."

"I expect you to remain professional, Roman," she curtly replied.

Good. She was assuming of him what he wanted her to assume. Think his issues were something easy to associate with a criminal lowlife, that it was a matter of bigotry when his real concerns were much more apprehensive towards the whole plan likely being about to go right to shit. Don't try to seem perfect, give her problems she thinks are manageable, and not criticisms of her entire operation, and she won't try to dig.

"Fine, fine," he waved it off, "So, we've got a meeting with the pet store and you want me to keep everything professional as, I assume, I'm in charge of filling them in on the work we need them doing. That's all?"

"I'd like to escalate our acquisitions strategy, if that fits your schedule, of course." He didn't rise to the barb. "You mentioned a plan with intercepting dust shipments at the docks—I'd like to pursue that further, with the White Fang's men substituting for Junior's."

He nodded, the sound of grinding metal echoing in his head as he did. It was a good plan, he'd come up with it, after all, but the kind of good plan that needed a good crew, one that had time to rehearse, and he wasn't expecting to have that. But telling Ms. Cinder Fall you didn't think you could do something was how you ended up a pile of ashes on the floor. Roman was in too deep to get picky now.

"I can handle it," he said.

"See that you do."

And she was gone.

Leaning back in his chair, Roman asked himself for the thousandth time if this deal was even worth twice the payout he'd been promised. But worth it or not, he was part of it now, and the only way out was either in a successful score or ashes on the carpet. In too deep, her reminded himself, sometimes, you were just in too deep for any outcome other than to see it through to the end.

Pragmatism was what was needed right now, so Roman thought through what he'd just learned. It was obvious that Cinder had been setting things up with the White Fang in secret behind his back, that much was clear. These things took time, lots of time, so Little Red's intervention or not wasn't going to change things. Just gave her an excuse to make it seem like she was forced to respond to his failure. Still, it must have been… something she expected to have as an asset from the get-go, but had only now just finally secured their support. A slip up, on her end. No wonder she was so testy.

But this all meant that the mission was growing bigger. Junior's men weren't much, but they understood criminality. They were here to do a job, a job that involved certain risks, but that was part of the contract. Junior's men took their money and shut up. These new guys… they weren't here for money, or, at least, the types Roman would be working with were motivated by more than that. Even if the leadership was lien-strapped enough to rent their forces out to a criminal operation, the low level types weren't pawns on a chessboard. Roman had seen enough halfwit "criminal masterminds" think of themselves as master strategists who somehow missed the lesson that people took agency, and if you neglect that, they're gonna make a real mess of your 27 step plan.

These men would show up as activists and revolutionaries—cloaked in self-righteousness and driven to change the world. Heroic types, and that meant that the plan would have to get bigger. Bigger and bigger and it was already the biggest crime Roman had ever committed...

And now Pyrrha was in the mix. He thought the worst of it might be that she'd learn how dirty a man he truly was when he masterminded a terror attack against Vale, but with these revolutionaries… he could imagine pitched street fighting. Assassination. Things where… where people got hurt.

Ha, like sending a Grimm Invasion into Beacon didn't? But Roman knew that while his moral compass might be as hypocritical as it was broken, it wasn't going to accept that Pyrrha could get hurt. And the thought… that he was exactly as toxic and destructive as Alcestis said he was, remembering the look on her face, the fire in his sister's eyes as she pinned him against the wall, the hiss of her voice as she told him, little Pyrrha sobbing in the background, to never come near her family again…

This had to be managed. Controlled. He couldn't stop it—nothing in Remnant was going to stand between Cinder Fall and her prey—but he could guide it. Just like he always did, staying one step ahead of the Maw. Making sure he was safe. That Neo was safe. He could… make sure Pyrrha was safe, too.

He just had to be willing to pay the price for it.

Thanks to Renarde and Six02 for feedback on this chapter!

I've seen fics that have put Roman and Jaune as relatives, but thinking about his theme being "Rome" and Pyrrha having "Greek Antiquity," there's a Classical Mediterranean connection there, and I feel it opens up some interesting ways to look at their characters.

I'm really looking forward to this story, another look at villainy, family, and the struggle of moral character and cowardice, in the style of Let The Dead Lie. I don't think this fic'll go as hard as that one did (it's still my favorite story I've ever written), but with Roman being from not-Italy, I can add a heaping helping of Catholic Guilt to the narrative. I can't wait to show more of what Roman did to get utterly expelled from his family and why Pyrrha puts such a priority on loyalty above all. But that's for future chapters—I hope you're looking forward to it as well!