Author's Note (meta): So, hey! There's new canon(-adjacent) Torchwick stuff coming out soon! Y'all hype? I sure am. My relationship to canon material is a strange one, since if canon is too fierce in contradicting something I'm writing, then it can threaten to murder my enthusiasm to keep writing it, but I like having a frame of reference to try to keep the cast as in-character as possible… and Torchwick didn't get nearly enough dialogue for my taste.

Should be a fun ride, and there shouldn't be anything in there too ruinous to the Frozen Flame. I tend to try to stick pretty close to what's implied by the story, when it's possible, and avoid sweeping changes based entirely on my own headcanons. Well, except for my 'demisexual Torchwick' take… but in fairness, 'demisexual Torchwick' is a hill I'm absolutely prepared to die on, so it's fine!

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Neopolitan

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Neo had no idea who the guy was, but the way his eyes began to bulge as Hush was slammed into his torso made the tiny woman's heart skip a beat. She'd had precious few opportunities to distract herself with her hobby in the past few months, so the feeling of euphoria was deeply appreciated. The stranger's partner in crime saw her attack, his jaw clenching as he raised the handgun he'd been brandishing and tried to take aim, but she was shifting her momentum before her first strike had even finished. Neo flashed the man an arrogant wink as she ducked beneath the silvery barrel of his gun, doubling him over by slamming the handle of her umbrella into his unguarded stomach.

Such weak Aura! Where did all their confidence even come from?

Well, that wasn't fair, she'd done everything she could to look as vulnerable as possible. As if being as short as a child weren't enough, her Semblance had shifted her normally two-toned hair into a short black bob, and she wore the off-white scrubs of a Vale nurse. It was a look she'd put a lot of thought into… wanting to find that perfect combination of traits that would scream both 'I have money' and 'I'm probably helpless.'

Even then, she'd only managed to attract two muggers this time around—a bit below her usual average, but perhaps rumors were starting to spread about her. The thought caused her smile to waver for just a fraction of a second. It was one more small reminder that she'd stayed frozen in this place for too long.

The first assailant she'd hit was also the quickest to recover, rubbing his side with a pained grunt as he looked Neo over, a mix of anger and confusion in his narrowed brown eyes. He was the larger of the two, six feet of tanned skin and bulky muscle, compared to his companion's more pale, slender build… but all of that was relative, honestly. Most everyone was large compared to Neo. They were both clad in patchwork clothing, and brandished weapons that were chipped and caked with rust.

"…" Neo's glossy lips spread into a wide smile as she expanded her umbrella, the canopy of Hush exploding between herself and her attackers in a flash of silken pink and white. Once it had fully extended, she allowed the shaft to rest against one of her shoulders, elevating the other in a condescending shrug.

The pale mugger gave his partner a confused look, still partially hunched over, and his partner nodded in reply. The larger man took a step toward Neo with his metal pipe clutched firmly in hand; his broad frame filling half the narrow alleyway like a wall of muscle. Neo was still as a statue during his approach, her smile dismissive and empty, until he finally brought his makeshift club down on her. She swayed her body the instant she felt the dirty metal touch her hair, knocking his weapon away with the shaft of Hush and drawing the umbrella's hidden blade up into his flesh before weightlessly hopping backward.

A muted whimper escaped from the depths of his throat as the muscular robber's arm fell slack at his side, followed by the 'clank' of metal on concrete as the pipe he'd been gripping slipped from his fingers and landed on the ground beside him. Even in the dimming light of evening, Neo could see the trail of scarlet Hush had carved into the back of his arm, and a warm, sadistic pleasure began to swell in her chest at the sight of it. She'd sliced his distal bicep tendon—with surgical precision, naturally. She was a nurse tonight, after all!

"Who… the hell are you?" The scrawny criminal's voice cracked as he ran to his friend's side, his yellow eyes wide and watery as he tried to size Neo up. Now that she looked at him more carefully, she could see he was some kind of reptilian faunus: hard green scales lined the skin of his cheeks, and they seemed to glow in the waning sunlight.

"…" She blew a kiss to the pair in reply, though as soon as she completed the gesture, she returned her palm to her lips in a yawning gesture. These two were bigger, stronger, and attacked in a group… it was safe to assume they hadn't anticipated their night playing out quite like this.

They moved to attack her again, but the energy was different now. No longer were they confident, aggressive, or even angry… they flailed toward her with wide, panicked motions and trembling limbs. Their chaotic rhythm grew more brainless each time she effortlessly danced around their strikes, each time she batted the weapon from their hands, and each time the blade of Hush left another bite on the skin of their arms or legs—to the extent that within a minute they were blindly lashing out like confused animals.

They feared her! The thought was like an emotional salve that mixed itself into the center of her brain, momentarily displacing the sorrow that had taken permanent residence there. That was the moment she lived for… when reality dawned upon an enemy, and confidence was slowly bled into primal, dumb terror. That moment of transformation was more important to her than victory itself, and much of the fighting style she'd developed was built around making that terror swell and crest for as long as possible.

Before long, the pair of them were barely able to stand, and their attempts to attack her had long since given way to trying, in vain, to prevent her from striking them. She ignored their vitals, even as they grew less and less capable of defending them, contenting herself to strike at the vulnerable points of their limbs until her would-be assailants were left quivering, helpless heaps upon the ground. Realizing the sport could be protracted no longer, Neo sighed in silent pleasure, finally raising an arm to strike the killing blow.

'That's rough, fellas, but can't help ya. Neo's like a cat hunting a mouse: can't stop her once she's started. Best you can hope for is that she loses interest and wanders off while you're only -half- dead.'

The memory of a familiar voice. Words from the past, spoken in a flippant, but quietly proud tone. Hush trembled in Neo's hands as her heart sank. The adrenaline and excitement that had been coursing through her tiny body vanished in an instant, replaced with the same cold numbness that had plagued her without reprieve for these past few months.

Even in the middle of a fight, she couldn't stop reminding herself that he was gone…

A cloud slipped across the setting sun, bathing the dim alleyway in a greater darkness as a moment of silence passed. Her attackers-turned-victims looked up at her from the ground, confused by the sudden reprieve, but not looking like they intended to let the opportunity pass. By now she'd so thoroughly sliced their bodies that a counterattack was impossible, so they seemed content to slowly crawl away. The smaller man leaned against his comrade, and the pair did what they could to support one another's weight as they hobbled out onto the deserted main street.

Neo's eyes followed the movement as they left, but she made no offer to stop them. The moment was ruined… or perhaps it was doomed from the start. Oh! She'd meant to steal their money too, hadn't she? Well, whatever. They didn't matter. Lien didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

The mute assassin closed her eyes and drew a long breath in through her nostrils, releasing it slowly as she swiped her umbrella through the air to clear away the blood that had stained it. Then she turned and walked away, her once graceful motions now stiff and robotic. The clouds overhead had thickened when she wasn't looking, and the air was growing damp and heavy around her… since her little attempt at diversion had failed, it was best to just go home.

'Home' was, perhaps, a melodramatic title for the water-damaged, ivy-ridden studio apartment that lay abandoned in the far corner of the slums of Vale. This had been the first country she and Roman had begun to colonize for their fledgling criminal empire. The first thing her ever-fastidious boss had done was to scope out the city and earmark the buildings that could make for good safe houses: temporary hideouts to bunker down in if the heat from a botched job ever got a little too hot. At first, they were a precaution the duo had set up and never gave much thought to afterward, but after Cinder forced them into her group, Roman had begun to bring them up more and more often.

"If we ever get separated while the Witch has me running her errands, head to the nearest safehouse and wait. If I don't find you in two weeks, it probably means I'm gone. I don't get to tell you what to do after that… but I'd kinda prefer for you to get away from these people and live free. Somewhere far away."

As if on cue, she remembered his voice again, and once more the beating of her heart caused painful emptiness to course through her. He'd whispered those words to her before they set out on the mission underground, hadn't he? At the time, she'd responded by stomping on his foot and storming off, but that was a performance of anger she didn't feel—in truth, his words had caused an icy chill to form in the pit of her stomach, and it took all her self-control to stop herself from visibly trembling.

The persona of 'Roman Torchwick' was an exaggerated character of pressed suits, flippant one-liners, and fake eyelashes. A suit of armor that little Leon had crafted, bit by bit, to help him thrive in a world that rejected him. However, the foundation for it was real: for as long as she'd known him, he'd been a driven and ambitious guy who always moved forward with absolute confidence in himself. He planned for contingencies, yes, but always in a distant, clinical way that made it clear he couldn't really comprehend the possibility he might fail at anything. Watching as their time in Cinder's faction eroded that confidence away—to the point where, by the end, he seemed obsessed with the possibility he might not live to see the end of it—terrified her, and that terror forced her to fall back on confidence of her own.

She was by his side, and she'd keep him alive, even if she had to do it while he kicked and screamed! Even if they had to stand on the sidelines and watch as the dark force which controlled Cinder destroyed all other life on Remnant, she'd make sure that he survived. That may even be for the best… they were the only two people who mattered, anyway.

As Neo finally reached the cracked, bloated door of the safehouse, she ran her fingers through her hair. Her Semblance disengaged in a stream of refracted light as her black bob was gradually replaced by flowing locks of brown and pink. She closed her eyes, massaged the bridge of her nose, and as her eyelids reopened her heterochromia had likewise returned. By the time she pushed open the door and slinked into the darkness with a heavy sigh, her full disguise was dispelled, and she was 'herself' again.

She'd stayed put and waited for two weeks. Even as two became three, she still waited. After a month had passed? Two? Here she remained. Perhaps it was denial, perhaps it was despair, but whatever the case, she'd lost sight of what to do next.

The tip of her finger found the switch of the dust-powered lantern she kept on her small kitchen table, and the device kicked on with a mechanical click, causing a bright flame to flicker to life and illuminate the space around her. Light was not the friend of this tiny, single-room home… it made it easier to see how cramped the space was, and it loaned a soft glow to the greenish mold that had almost fully claimed the far wall. Neo was beyond caring about the state of her lodgings, though. She eyed the assortment of packaged foods she'd gathered on the dining table, momentarily debated ending her two-day fast, and quickly abandoned the notion. The knot in her stomach wouldn't permit such a luxury tonight.

Instead, she allowed the fabric of her half-shirt to slide down her shoulders, tossed the garment onto the bed, shuffled toward the bathroom door, where a dusty body-length mirror was set up, and leaned beside it.

…There was something oddly nostalgic about the shriveled reflection of herself that awaited her.

Neo was always a pale woman, but that pallor had grown so intense as to almost make her skin appear glassy and bloodless, an effect which coupled with her short stature to give her the visage of a porcelain doll. This illusion was dispelled a bit by the heavy bags that had settled into the skin above her cheekbones, though, which loaned her face a haggard, tired look, and made her bi-colored eyes seem to sink a little deeper into their sockets.

"…" Neo sighed and rested her forehead against the cool glass, hugging her elbows and pressing her arms against her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the reflection of a garment she'd left hanging on the post of her bed: a black bowler hat with a red band, inside which was tucked a small red feather. Once her eyes fell upon it, she found herself unable to shift her gaze, and instead she stared at the hat in the mirror with such intensity one might think she were trying to set it on fire with her mind. After a moment, the deep frown she'd been wearing started to reverse its course and shift into a wistful grin.

Honestly, Neo never been a fan of the hat; she'd always thought it was a goofy fashion choice. A bowler? In modern-day Remnant? That was the kind of over-the-top, melodramatic accessory that only the dumbest of Dum-Dums could ever think was cool. He was really proud of it, though, so she decided it wasn't the worst thing in the world.

…Now it was all she had left.

Her mind returned to that night above Vale, and the morning that followed. She'd dropped her guard for just a fraction of a second, and before she could recover, she'd been pulled into a howling void of darkness. The wind had rocked and crushed against her tiny frame, straining her aura and robbing her of her sight and hearing as she lost all sense of direction or spatial awareness. She was able to regain control of Hush just in time to slow the rate at which she slammed into the ground, but only enough to spare her life… She awoke more than a day later, and it took all the willpower at her disposal to force her bruised and broken body to start moving again afterward.

Physical pain was nothing compared to the panic that filled her when she awoke, though. She'd forced herself back up onto her feet and ran to the place where the airship had crashed, searching for any clues she could find as to how the battle had ended, and where her boss had gone. She scoured through the wreckage for so long that her aura began to waver, and the jagged debris she sifted through began to pierce her gloves and tear the skin of her fingertips, but no matter where she looked, she found nothing. No signs of struggle, no drops of blood, no bodies…it was as if 'Roman Torchwick' had vanished from the face of Remnant while she had been away, until she saw a fragment of the Bullhead's deck sticking up from the ground, with an all-too-familiar bowler hanging against it.

Neo stared at the reflection of the hat until the fog of her breath fully blurred the glass, and then turned to pick it up and study it with a blank expression on her face. She opened her mouth as if she were about to attempt to speak, but instead her lower lip trembled, and the whites of her eyes flickered with poorly restrained tears. Her head was swimming, and the strength in her knees was beginning to wane, so after a moment she set the hat onto the bed and collapsed beside it, curling herself into the fetal position.

When had she changed? When did she lose the ability to even imagine a world without him in it?

Neo's memory of life before Roman was so vague and fragmented that it served less as a recollection, and more like a chaotic swirl of images and emotions. Scenes composed of cracked pavement streets, the smell of sweat and alcohol, or the glare of stranger's eyes as they passed. For more than a decade, Neo had existed in the slums of Mantle: a broken and bitter place full of broken and bitter people.

Did she have a father? She must have, certainly, but no matter how she racked her brain she could conjure no image of him. He'd likely abandoned her from the start. At the very least she had a mother, if one felt compelled to give the one who birthed her such a title. The woman never once offered the slightest shred of love to Neo, and instead tolerated her presence in her home so long as she could be used as a source of Lien. When Neo fulfilled this expectation, her reward was not affection, nor even acknowledgement, just the privilege of continuing to exist in that rat-smelling building with a mother who didn't abuse the girl only because doing so would entail showing her any emotional response, at all.

Though short and underfed, Neo grew nimble and surehanded as she adjusted to her place in the world, stealing from passers-by along crowded city streets- if she stole enough Lien for her mom to drink, it meant she would get to eat, and her struggle would continue for another day. She went through the motions of her life like a stringless marionette, and never questioned why she was born into a world without light. Whether they were human or Faunus, all the people around her were the same as her mother. A lifetime of invisible struggle to survive had robbed them of some fundamental thing more privileged people possessed, and so they came to view one another as enemies to be preyed upon or tools to be used.

Young Neo didn't even have the luxury of longing for things like 'love' or 'acceptance'… she had no idea such concepts existed in the first place.

"Geez, never giving yourself credit, Neo. You're stronger than you think you are… if you didn't wanna survive, you wouldn't have." For all his bravado, Roman was always quick to deflect credit for saving her, but that was what he'd done.

She couldn't remember why she ran away from the only home she'd ever known- perhaps some small part of her had indeed rejected the empty, meaningless existence she'd been given—but she'd already given up hope by the day she met Leon. People outside the slums fancied themselves more moral than the criminals she'd grown up around, but that just made them more disgusting to her. Their pity only ever went as far as their convenience. They might offer to help, but when they saw her behavior… saw the 'interesting' scars her upbringing had left upon her psyche… they grew frightened and withdrew their support. The scene had repeated over and over until that day, in the back yard of that abandoned house, when she'd finally lost the strength to keep moving. She decided she would remain in that place until the end finally came.

…but instead, she met him. By random chance, someone approached her, and instead of trying to take something away, he'd extended his hand toward her. To someone like Neo, who was born into a cold, dark world, that single gesture of warmth made him shine like the sun. It was the first time she'd realized people could connect emotionally, and her infatuation was instant and intense. Compared to her, his life had been sheltered and blessed, but he'd still begun to be rejected by the world, as she had.

So, they partnered up. If they couldn't find a place where they belonged, they would make one for themselves. Neo realized that was what she'd always longed for, without even knowing it. On that day, when she discovered her dream and found someone to share it with, for the first time in her short life, Neo felt blessed to have been born. Perhaps, when two people are broken in complimentary ways, their jagged edges fit together like puzzle pieces, and their resonance can help them face the future together?

Neo began to tremble, and her breath left her body in a series of slow, faltering exhales. She drew her arms more tightly around her core as she curled into a ball atop the blankets, her gaze never shifting from the hat laying before her. Had the world given her light just to make her return to the abyss more painful? Her dream had ended, and before she knew it, she'd been brought back to nothing… except worse now: where before this cold darkness was all she knew, it was now an overwhelming reminder of everything she'd lost.

The thought filled her with despair, yes, but there was something much stronger festering in the core of her being. It was warm—no, hot—but not in the comforting way her bond with her only friend had made her feel. Instead, any time she reminded herself that Roman was gone, this dark conflagration would well up inside her and begin to spread through her like an infection.

Hatred…

Neo blinked away her tears, and her frown flattened into a scowl as she remembered the smug, arrogant face of Cinder Fall. The Witch! This all started because of her. She entrapped them in her web and forced them onto the front lines, all the while intending to kill them the instant they were no longer of use to her. When Neo thought about how that woman would continue to live in a world that no longer contained Roman, it made her stomach turn.

Then there was the huntress brat, Little Red. She was a lot like her blonde teammate: Weak, naïve, and easy to read… but the effect she had on Roman was a different matter altogether. Against any other enemy, he remained aloof, distant, and professional… but the red girl cracked that façade. She stirred an anger in him which Neo had never seen him share with an outsider. Anger could make you careless—it was a human weakness Neo often used when she fought—and in their line of work, carelessness was fatal. While Neo struggled to imagine someone like Red intentionally committing murder… she knew for a fact that if Roman were dead, part of the blame laid on the huntress' shoulders, and Neo would never forgive her for that.

That left just one more person who needed to be punished. The one whose weakness got them entrapped by the Witch. The one whose carelessness left her boss alone with the huntress in the shadows above Vale. The one Neo hated more than any of the others. Her weakness was so frustrating! Anger and sorrow married within her as the tears she'd been suppressing finally stained her cheeks, and she bit the corner of her lip so fiercely that a coppery taste filled her mouth.

Cinder was a malevolent boor who fancied herself a chessmaster, and Little Red was an infuriating do-gooder with no idea what the world was really like, but neither of them played a bigger role in robbing Neo's world of light than she had, herself…

For the first time since the Fall of Beacon, Neo felt restless. This kind of intense anger was something she'd never experienced before, and unpleasant though it was, it sent an invigorating jolt of adrenaline along her spine. She rolled onto her back, stretching her limbs before folding her arms behind her head and laying against her pillow. Silent peals of laughter began to escape from her lips, even as her tears continued to flow, slowly and softly at first, then gradually more violent and maniacal until she was shaking the mattress beneath her with the force of her laughing.

Despite being surrounded by death since the day she was born, whenever she tried to accept that such a fate had befallen Roman, her mind rejected it. She couldn't process that someone so precious to her no longer existed. She couldn't express her sorrow, her shame, her regret… but she could express her anger! She'd focus on her targets, one at a time, and drag them down into nothingness right alongside her.

Cinder Fall was the first, so as sleep began to claim her, Neo replayed their first battle over and over again in her mind. She'd known from the start that she would have to kill Cinder someday—that as long as the Witch was alive, it was inevitable that she would try to destroy their dream. She had no idea what became of Cinder during the Fall, but unless something significant had changed, defeating her wouldn't even require much effort on Neo's part. On the day that trio had forced Roman into their fold, they overcame Neo by capitalizing on a momentary opening, and it was clear ever since then that Cinder was underestimating her.

Those who didn't know Neo tended to assume she was arrogant, and being as taciturn as she was, Neo wasn't inclined to contradict such assumption openly. Privately, though, she felt she had a pretty firm grasp on what she was capable of. If she came across as cocky, that was a by-product of only getting involved in fights with opponents she knew she could beat. She performed a bit of that arrogance, sure, but that was because it was infuriating for her enemy! Few things disable intelligence more effectively than anger.

Cinder was at least half a maiden. She was strong… so strong that the thought of fighting her gave Neo goosebumps… but she was nothing the mute couldn't handle. Compared to the masked woman who interrupted Neo's duel with the blondie, or the monster in the shadows who controlled Cinder's actions, the Witch was just another mark with a few extra tricks. That 'Emerald' girl's Semblance wouldn't catch Neo by surprise twice.

For now, though, Neo had to rest. Now that she'd found a purpose for the first time in weeks, she had business to attend to… meetings in a faraway land.

Mistral…

Thinking back on it, during their time partnered up, she and roman had visited Mantle, Atlas, and Vale together, but never Mistral. He'd talked about spreading there first once they got settled in Vale, and Neo had suspected it was because he was curious to try the food and go sightseeing, though he'd never admit it.

Honestly, he was such a Dum-Dum…

Neo felt her body slowly relax, and her mind began to slip from consciousness into the haze before slumber. In that state, as her grasp on reality melted into dreams, her sense of time distorted, and she felt as though Roman had returned to her. For a few glorious seconds, she believed they were together again, during those turbulent years between the death of their peaceful childhood and the day they met the Witch. The days Neo missed the most fiercely: when the two of them were starving, desperate, and totally free.

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[Document Manager keeps erasing my trasition breaks and attempts to add spacing... so consider this a transition break]
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The rain had ceased, the night had passed, and breaking dawn bathed light upon the gray pavement before her. Neo was carrying herself a little bit taller than she had been before (to the extent a woman her size can be called 'taller' than anything, anyway), and had a silent whistle on her lips as she twirled her umbrella around one of her fingertips. The lighthearted bravado was still a bit forced; even now a small part of her wanted to return to her bed and rot away. Still, she knew she'd wasted too much time already. If she didn't force herself to move now, then she'd never find the strength to move again. As if to remind herself of this, she tightened her grip on the bowler clutched in her left hand.

Leon. Even when he was gone, he was still helping her get up again when she wanted to give up… The thought brought a soft smile to the mute as she raised the hat and allowed it to fall into place atop her head. It was a little big on her, causing the curved brim to fall over her brow, but after a little adjusting, she was able to fit it comfortably, angling it slightly so the fabric shielded her eyes from the morning sun. She just needed him to support her for a little longer. Her journey would come to an end soon.

Mistral was a big place, but based on what had happened at Beacon, Neo was confident she could narrow down the locations the Witch was hiding. Cinder tried to keep her cards close to her chest, but she was never quite as clever as she believed herself to be, and Neo had sharp senses. The miniature maniac didn't know what they were planning, but she knew she'd cross their path eventually if she headed toward Mistral's huntsman academy.

The thought galvanized the tiny woman, and her smile grew a bit firmer on her face as she walked. She continued to march down the road until the slum was far behind her, and the limits of Vale were coming into sight. There was a lot of road ahead of her… she'd need to find more proper transportation somewhere along the way. For now, though, it was enough to be on the move again.

The Witch. The Huntress. Herself. She would punish each of them in turn, and then she would rest. That was the only purpose left to her in this cold, dark world. It was a bitter determination, but something about it made her feel lighter as well.

Perhaps, when all the violence was over, and she closed her eyes for the last time, her death would begin in the same way her life had… with his hand reaching out for hers.

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Author's Note (Story): With that, we're officially at the halfway point of book 2! Enjoying the ride so far? Unlike with book 1's more even-handed approach, the first half of book 2 focuses a bit more heavily on Roman's character than Weiss', for reasons that will hopefully be apparent once you see how the battle at Haven ends. I needed Weiss and Neo to have the opportunity to establish their own relationship independent of the relationship each one has to Roman, so following Haven will be an arc focused on that, leading into a rather cerebral final arc, and book 2's ending which… well, you'll see when we get there.

I'm still tweaking how Neo's POV chapters will work, since her lack of dialogue poses unique challenges when it comes to conveying her thoughts, but if possible I'll try to keep the style consistent across all three main characters perspectives. The post-Haven stuff will be a unique challenge, since I'm a man who loves banter, and that specific crutch will be a bit harder to lean on for a while… especially since I'll have a span of several chapters where I won't have my usual, comfortable security blanket that is Roman's POV.

Is that really Roman's body running around causing mischief? How many more Celtic names will the author butcher in his attempt to give the villains a consistent theme? Can Weiss convince Neo she's haunted by the ghost of her only friend? For that matter, will Weiss have the willpower to choose her real father when given the choice between Jacques Schnee and Torchwick's dad? For that matter, what's up with the parenthetical prefix in the story's subtitle, anyway!?

Find out soon… hopefully. No, but for real… even if I can't get back on the same rigid schedule I had for book 1, I should have book 2 dones by the year's end. Then we can break into the finale to start 2022. Thanks as ever for reading, and providing me with positive attention… my drug of choice. See you soon!