Chapter 4: Smooth Criminal
He was glad he was wearing a jacket. Because God damn, it was cold out.
Roman Torchwick checked the time on his scroll before placing it back in his jacket's left pocket. Soon, he would have to go inside the warehouse he was currently leaning against and get up on stage to convince a bunch of wannabe terrorist that joining a bunch of actual terrorists was a smart life decision. And at the same time, show off to the animals already a part of the bull's little cult that not running away was the smart choice since they were currently in possession of some rather big guns.
He pulled his cigar out of his mouth and let out a long, smoke-filled exhale into the cold night air. Any minute now that…wolf? Bear? Chihuahua? Okay, whatever the hell Taurus' right hand was would come to let him know that he had to come in, ushering him through the back of the warehouse and to the improv-auditorium they had set up to give a speech unlike any these animals have ever heard.
He placed his cigar back in his mouth and inhaled.
He had pulled out all the stops in making sure this little gathering would go off without a hitch. After all, when Cinder Fall asked—sorry, demanded you make sure no future operations would go amiss, you tend to do your damn best out of fear of immolation. And considering how livid she had been these last three weeks, there was a chance that he wasn't too far off from just how close she was to turning someone into ashes.
For a second he felt his lips twitch as he saw bruises and blood.
It was three weeks ago when he had been irritably waiting in a warehouse that he would receive what was simultaneously one of the best and worst phone calls of his life. It had been from Cinder's brats, the ones who were supposed to be there about twenty minutes ago. Once he had answered the call, he expected many things. Perhaps that silver-haired brat giving him that arrogant smirk of his as he told him that they'd been called away by their owner to do more important things than talk with him. Or perhaps Cinder's little slave calling him to tell him that they hadn't found the warehouse while "subtly" implying it was because of his directions.
What he did not expect to see was a thick patch of blood covering the camera. He could see nothing but red, and he had raised his brow as he stared at his Scroll, ears picking up only the faintest of sounds on the other end; he heard what sounded like some kind of crackling in the background as well as some dripping sound coming from…somewhere. For several moments, he had wondered just what the hell those two were doing, and why they even called him in the first place if they weren't even going to say a word.
But then the Scroll had moved. And he realized something. The camera hadn't been covered by some large spot of blood.
The Scroll itself had just been resting in a puddle of blood.
He had muttered a confused curse as he watched the scroll shakily rise from the puddle, his view shifting from one thing to the next with every shake. He had seen an orange glow coming from somewhere in the distance off-screen and the brick walls of some kind of building; and he had also seen something that he had never expect to see before. Something that he had admittedly fantasized once or twice before, but never expected to see in reality.
He had seen Emerald beaten to a damn pulp. Half of her face had been nothing more than a large black and purple bruise, blood leaking from her mouth in thick, red trails that descended down her chin; he had also seen what looked like the imprints of someone's fingers on the skin of her neck, like she had been strangled by someone very strong. The right side of her face had been marked with burns of all shapes and sizes; he had seen blister's forming around her skin, bubbling and growing every second. Her red eyes that had always gleamed with confidence, in her skills, her abilities, in everything, was gone. Now, there was only desperation in her eyes.
And also, fear.
Ro…Roman.
Emerald's voice was weak, raspy, like she had trouble breathing; she choked on her own blood as she coughed, bright red blots leaving her mouth and hitting parts of the screen.
Help.
He had blinked; it was the first time she had ever asked him for help. And he had never heard Emerald sound so…broken before. Gone was Cinder's little assassin, and in her place, was a girl that knew she was in an absolute shit situation. His eyes looked her over in a matter of seconds, and he had instantly realized what kind of mess Emerald was in.
And he almost laughed.
Emerald was a dead; or, at the very least close to dead, and she knew it. Somehow, someway, she had ended up in a situation that had ultimately led to this. Calling him for help—which meant that either Mercury was dead or that he was so injured he wasn't able to help her escape whatever shit they were in—because if she didn't, then she would die. In that moment, he was her last hope.
Someone who would honestly smile at the thought of her dying.
He had been so tempted to say "no" right to her face and then hang up with a smile. It had been so tempting to let that brat die and never again have to see or hear her ever again.
But he didn't say "no." Instead, he had only said three words as his mouth moved into a bitter frown.
Where are you?
Oh yes, it would've been so easy to just pretend he never got that call and let them die…but then he would have to explain to Cinder why Emerald and Mercury were dead. And it wouldn't be hard for her to find out that Emerald had called him just before she died, and once Cinder did learn what he had done, she would burn him to a crisp.
So, he had to save Emerald. He had to ignore every voice telling him to this brat die—despite how it would literally make his year—and go and do his very best to make sure she lived.
Because he was under no circumstances ending up on Cinder Fall's hit list.
He had arrived at where Emerald told him she was along with his men—the ones that knew basic medicine—minus Neo, who had been occupied beforehand with her "important hobbies" all the way across town. And he saw two things that instantly drew his attention.
One was Mercury; black and blue, beaten and bruised, Mercury. He along with Emerald, who had seemed to fade in and out of consciousness, were sitting in an alley a few feet away from the other. He had been in just as bad shape as Emerald, blood pooling around his body, cuts on every part of his clothes and bruises scattered on every inch of visible skin. Unfortunately, Mercury was still alive; he had heard the small, shuddery breaths that left the little shit's mouth.
But he had also seen that Mercury's legs were missing; the cocky brat's pants were literally empty, no signs of his prosthetics anywhere. Mercury was now literally only half a man as his unconscious body leaned against the wall behind him.
But the second thing he had noticed was what made him take a moment to consider just how badly shit had hit the fan.
Because a bookstore was on fire. Specifically, the bookstore that belonged to a certain traitor he had been intent on dealing with. A few streets over and far enough away where he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him or his men, a crowd of people watched as squads of firemen tried to put out the blaze on Tukson's Book Trade. He watched as the fire grew brighter and hotter despite the jets of water the fireman shot at it.
He had looked back at the two thoroughly beaten brats. And once again, he was tempted to leave these two idiots to their deaths. Because it was very easy to see just what had gone wrong.
But he helped the two oh-so-close to death brats and made sure that his men properly stabilized them before shoving them into a van. And while the rest of his men made sure they didn't bleed out all over the floor, he was left with the oh-so-wonderful job of contacting his boss.
We have a problem.
He still shivered when he thought about the glare she gave him.
What did you do?
His only response had been for him to lift his Scroll and let his wonderful boss get a full view of her bloodied, bruised, and defeated brats.
Wasn't me that messed up, sweetheart.
He had added in that little crack because something told him it would be the last time he would get the chance.
Cinder had not reacted immediately. She had only stared. At his men moving about, gathering everything they needed to properly tend to the brats wounds. As the wheels thumped along the road and as the brats wheezed blood. If he were being honest, that silence had been absolutely suffocating.
And when he heard flames roar from his Scroll, he had almost dropped the damn thing as he suddenly felt like his heart was trying to break his own ribs.
Slowly—and not at all missing the scared-shitless looks on his men—he brought the scroll back to his face.
And he saw amber eyes flashing with orange. And also pure, unadulterated fury.
Torchwick….what the hell happened?
And wasn't that the million Lien question? Because—even right now—neither he or his lovely boss had any concrete ideas to who exactly was responsible for beating the shit of the brats. After he told Cinder everything he had known at the time, not even an hour later, Taurus was on the line in a three-way call. Cinder had thought that the one who was responsible for this mess was the little traitor Tukson, or maybe some kind of ally, and had demanded an explanation from Taurus as to why he didn't mention just how dangerous this animal was.
But upon hearing what exactly happened to Cinder's flunkies, the bull's only response had been a somewhat-confused "what?" Apparently, Tukson had nowhere near the strength or skills to take on either Mercury or Emerald, and especially not the both of them at once. And there was no chance of Tukson having any allies or contacts strong enough to take on and win against the brats.
And after Taurus had finished—never once lying, of that both he and Cinder could see—his boss had silently, save for the small sparks going off in the background of her Scroll, seethed. She then ordered him to find out just what happened at that bookstore and figure out if Tukson was dead or had fled. Mercury and Emerald had been stabilized, unfortunately, but they were both comatose so asking them what happened was out of the question.
But days of searching had revealed jack-shit. And that had just done wonders for Cinder's mood.
Three days later, Emerald had finally woken up—screaming, apparently, according to one of the doctors on his payroll. And while he would have loved to mock the ever-loving hell out her for getting her teeth knocked out, literally, he had instead simply called Cinder's Scroll, and put her face to face with a very pissed off, very crazy, killer.
And that was never a good combination.
Cinder had commanded her "disciple" to tell her just what she and Mercury had done. And, he wouldn't lie, seeing the usually arrogant brat sweat bucket and stuttering with fear—and shame, he heard that in her every word—as she poorly retold what happened had been absolutely wonderful. And when he said poorly, he really meant horribly.
Because Emerald could barely remember just what exactly happened at Tukson's Book Trade; he supposed having multiple concussion and some swelling in the brain would make a person's memory rather spotty. She had practically no memories of the actual fight that had taken place in that bookstore, and couldn't even remember what exactly the person she fought looked like. The only thing she could say was that a single male had soundly kicked their asses after they tried to kill Tukson—tried being the keyword, because Emerald shakily told them that she and Mercury had never confirmed if they killed the traitor. And considering how no news outlet or his own men had reported finding any bodies in that bookstore, it was safe to say that Tukson was still kicking.
As well as the man responsible for this little shit-storm.
When Mercury woke up a few days later—not screaming, just incredibly angry and sullen as he looked at his now legless body—he remembered more than Emerald. It wasn't much, but the brat did give them a somewhat decent description of the man who beat them and had told them that "Goldie," Mercury's little nickname for the man, had both Aura and—from the sounds of it—an incredibly deadly Semblance. As well as some rather strange pets.
And upon learning all of this information, Cinder had been absolutely enraged; even more so than before. Because there was now a chance her entire plan could be in jeopardy.
He didn't know everything about what Cindy was planning, but he knew enough. He knew that Cinder and her brats were going to infiltrate Beacon academy under the guise of students from Haven Academy. And, while she hadn't told him, it was rather obvious that the reason for doing so had something to do with the upcoming Vytal Festival.
A festival that they couldn't exactly take place in if, and he was just spitballing here, the entire damn Kingdom were to suddenly learn that some of the brats entering said festival had attacked and tried to kill civilians.
If whoever did this had any evidence of his fight with the brats, all it would take is for him to tell anyone what happened—the police, Ozpin, even old ladies crossing the street—and the moment someone verified that yes, attempted murderers were trying to enter a tournament full of young, wannabe Huntsman, Cinder's entire team would be forced to flee as General Ironwood and his flunky Schnee pursued them.
In other words, with just this one spectacular screw-up, Cinder's plans could be put to an end before they even began.
And by God, did she let her "disciples" know that. Never once did she actually raise her voice, but the malice that made up her every word reached Mercury and Emerald's ears with ease as they both trembled. He knew what they were thinking; that was the end for them. That this crazy bitch was finally going to snap and have him kill them—which he would've done in a heartbeat.
But unfortunately, Cinder wasn't pissed off enough to kill her flunkies. Even though they could not have possibly failed worse, she still needed them. Since neither the police or Ozpin had been informed about what happened in that bookstore—both he, Cindy, and even the bull had been constantly checking to make sure—all Cinder had to do was say that a sudden "family emergency" or something along those lines had come up, and Ozpin would believe that excuse without so much as a glance. So, for now, they could still proceed with whatever the hell their plan was.
But Cinder made sure Mercury and Emerald knew that once she arrived in Vale, they would "further discuss" the brats' failure in private.
He had absolutely adored the way those little shits all but whimpered.
Realizing that his cigar had been reduced to a burnt stub, he dropped it to the ground before grinding it with his heel. He then reached for the silver case in his breast pocket and opened it, pulling out another cigar.
Aside from a few moments, the last three weeks had been exhausting. Trying his best to locate whoever beat the brats, steal crates after crates of Dust all while dealing with his damn boss' temper had made him just a tad stressed.
And, as much as he hated to admit it, what had happened to Mercury and Emerald had…unnerved him; if only slightly.
With a flick of his lighter, he lit the cigar now firmly between his teeth, letting the smoke whirl around in his mouth.
Those brats were good—he would never say that out loud though. Despite how young they were, they had skills to put fully trained Huntsman and Huntresses to shame. They had Semblances that were incredibly strong and knew damn well how to use them. And when they had fought "Goldie," they had weapons while he had none, and had him outnumbered with only an animal as backup.
And yet the man had still come out on top.
He let out a long puff of smoke.
He and Neo were stronger than those brats. If they ever got the bright idea to try and take him and his little murderer down without their boss around, then he was certain he and Neo would mop the floor with them.
But if they were to take him alone…if they were to fight him when he didn't have his weapon…
He took another drag, and then exhaled.
…He might have some difficulties fighting them off. And yet, this man, this seemingly random person who literally came from nowhere and who knew nothing about those brats' abilities, had done it with ease.
He frowned.
For someone to be able to pull off a win in those circumstances…he had to be a very competent fighter.
Inhale. Exhale.
He also had to be very skilled to hide away from a kingpin using every resource he had to try and find out something about whoever just beat the shit out of his boss' brats. He had to have some rather prestigious contacts that could help him hide his tracks and who he was from even Cinder Fall.
The smoke was starting to taste bitter.
Whoever the hell was responsible for this was a damn good criminal. And for a moment, he thought back to that bastard who was still stealing Dust from under him, and also weapons from his own men's pockets. The bastard that was, much as he hated to admit it, a very skilled criminal who he had next to no information on, save for the fact that they were messing with his—and by extension, Cinder's—plans.
With one last puff of smoke, he took out his cigar and stared at the sky, eyes narrowed as his frown deepened.
It could've been a coincidence, but something—an instinct that he had developed after years of living in the deepest pits of the criminal underworld—whispered to him that it wasn't. He didn't know what exactly the connection between whoever was robbing him and whoever beat up the brats was, maybe they were part of the same group or something, he did know two things.
One, he was definitely going to make sure Cinder never learned about the little thief problem he had. If his boss learned that some mysterious and skilled bastard had been stealing from him for some time, just as an equally mysterious and equally skilled bastard had kicked Mercury and Emerald's asses, then she would reach the same conclusion he had. And then, she would burn him to a crisp.
Slowly.
He shivered again.
And two…stopping whoever was stealing from him had just moved up several priorities. If he was right, and this was in fact a group of people responsible for his and Cinder's latest messes, that that meant someone was plotting. That meant that someone had managed to avoid not only his eyes, but also Cinder's eyes for who knows how long as he gathered all the resources he needed.
It meant that there was a chance that someone could be planning on fighting them. That someone knew about him and Cinder. And that the fight in the bookstore might not have been as random as it seemed.
His brows were furrowed together as he dropped his cigar, not even caring that he wasn't even halfway finished as he slowly looked around. At the dozens of White Fang grunts that patrolled the area with guns and swords; grunts whose faces he didn't recognize in the slightest. At the darkness that leaked from the surrounding buildings' shadows. The streets that suddenly seemed eerily quiet. The alleys both near and far from the warehouse he leaned on that were bigger than he first thought.
Every place and every person he looked at suddenly seemed to be a lot more suspicious than it was a second ago.
He pushed off the wall and took a few steps forward, picking up Melodic Cudgel from its propped spot on the metal doors as he did so.
It might just be paranoia, but he did not get to become a criminal mastermind without being somewhat paranoid. And if he was right, if there had been some other player out there trying to take on Cinder Fall, then they were either absolute idiots— because even if he did beat the brats, that did not mean he could actually beat the damn monster he was forced to work under—or had something else up his sleeve. But regardless of that, the fact that he might have orchestrated that encounter with Emerald and Mercury meant that the bastard was bold.
And at the very least, he might know about some parts of their plans.
Wasn't that just a wonderful thought?
With narrowed eyes, he continued to stare at the seemingly innocent cannon fodder that worked for the bull and the growing shadows of the night that could provide the perfect cover for anyone to strike from before-.
The metal doors behind him opened with a loud bang. And then a gruff voice shouted.
"Torchwick!"
It was only because he recognized the voice that he didn't whirl around and fire his weapon at it. Instead, he slowly turned around and saw the bulls' muscular right-hand man standing in the middle of the doorway with both arms held wide.
And the moment he locked eyes with the familiar white Grimm masks all these idiots wore, he smirked.
"Ah, what's the matter? Does someone want to go for a walk?"
Any lingering feelings of slight worry were extinguished as he spoke in a voice radiating with condescension. And in response to his not-so-subtle insult, the animal growled; really, these grunts made pissing them off far too easy, and yet they wondered why he never stopped being, in their incredibly crude words, a racist asshole.
"Shut up, you human piece of trash."
See? No originality whatsoever—he lost count as to how many times "the Lieutenant" called him that. Though, at least time, the animal wasn't shouting his head off and threatening him with a chainsaw.
"The demonstration's gonna start soon. So hurry up and get moving before my men let in the possible recruits."
The anger in the…for now he'd say Chihuahua's—because this bitch could seriously bark—voice faded somewhat as he impatiently gestured with his thumb to get inside.
And for less than a second, he glanced behind him, once again taking in the darkness of Vale's Industrial District and the White Fang grunts patrolling the area.
He sighed as he glanced back at the animal, slowly walking forward as he picked up his cane; spinning it around his hand by the handle.
"Fine, fine. No need to be so angry, we're all pals here, right?"
His lips stretched into his signature—he'd like to think it was, anyway—cocky smile. And the animal frowned, once again growling; though, not quite so much as before.
"Do you ever shut up?"
"I think you already know the answer to that."
Without waiting for a response, He walked passed the animal and into the long, dimly illuminated corridor.
He was being too cautious. Even if these White Fang rallies weren't exactly discreet, there was still enough security around the warehouse to prevent anyone from trying anything. So what if he didn't recognize the grunts patrolling the back; he never bothered to learn any of these animals faces, so it wasn't exactly strange that he didn't. Besides, his men had set up perimeters on several different streets that could lead towards the warehouse, and if they had seen anyone trying to get passed them, they would have immediately reported it to him. And within the warehouse, there were dozens of White Fang grunts prepared to shoot anyone they might see as an enemy; and while he was sure they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, they could at least alert him with their screams if they were getting killed.
And, even if someone did decide to try and crash this little gathering of mongrels, they had a secret weapon in the form of a giant robot suit courtesy of Atlas. There was nothing to worry about.
As the Chihuahua behind him closed the metal doors with a slam, he resisted the urge to smoke another cigar. He limited himself to a certain number of cigars a day, he couldn't have his clothes smelling like smoke after all, and he had already reached that limit.
There was nothing to worry about…yet he still found himself slowly glancing around at the darker corners of the corridor as he made sure his grip on Melodic Cudgel was secure. Because even though to try and attack a rally full of enemies was idiotic, especially when they had nothing to gain from doing so, he still couldn't stop that uneasy feeling in the back of his mind from growing. Mercury and Emerald had probably felt assured that nothing would go wrong with trying to kill Tukson, and yet they had ended up in a damn hospitable bed so who was to say the same couldn't happen to-.
He quickly shook his head, rubbing his hand along his face. Damn it, he was being ridiculous. The stress he'd been dealing with for the past three weeks was starting to get to him; that was all. Who wouldn't start acting irrationally if their bitch of a boss kept complaining about their work ethic all while never once actually coming down to see them competently doing their job?
Mid-step, he stopped walking. And both of his eyes narrowed.
…Why wasn't Cinder here? Even after learning about what was going on in Vale, she still didn't see the need to stop whatever it was she was doing and come check on this rather large problem. When he asked her, she told him that "other matters still need my attention," and at the time he had been to busy dealing with a million different things to question her further. But now that he thought about it, what the hell could be more important than a possible threat to her plans? What could actually grab Cinder Fall's full attention even when other problems needed to be dealt with?
With a glance, he saw that Taurus' right hand was giving him an odd look as he approached from behind. He quickly continued to walk and pretend as if he hadn't stopped for no apparent reason, rounding a corner as he tapped his cane along the ground.
He could think about what was keeping his boss occupied for so long later. For now…
He could hear the voices of excited future terrorist even from all the way in a dark hallway.
…it was showtime.
There were worse places to be stuck with a gorgeous girl. But for the life of him, he couldn't think of any right now.
Sun Wukong looked around at the other "recruits" that stood alongside him in neatly ordered rows. Most of the Faunus that were dressed in normal clothing—except for the Grimm masks on their faces, just like the one he had on—while the crowd of actual White Fang men and women watched them from only a few feet away. Almost every one of the recruits were talking, either to friends who had come with them or random people they had just met; and he could see several White Fang members smile. Not tauntingly or arrogantly, but genuinely smiling with what looked like nostalgia.
He knew that the people who joined the White Fang were, well, people, but he never thought that a recruitment rally for terrorist could have this kind of warm atmosphere—almost like the ones his team had when they were bonding after training. He never thought that there would be such…comfort on every Faunus' face as they talked and waited for the chance to be recruited into a terrorist organization.
Then again…
As inconspicuously as he could, he glanced to the side. And he saw Blake, amber eyes covered by a Grimm mask, staring ahead at the raised stage near the back of the warehouse—and the huge black tarp that covered something at the center of the stage which easily took up half the space.
…he guessed even terrorist organizations couldn't always be intimidating and frightening; how else could they get genuinely good and amazing people to stay for so long otherwise?
"What is it?"
Without even turning her head, Black suddenly spoke up, voice a whisper. And he knew her words were directed right at him; it wasn't like there were many other options.
Crap. He thought he'd been discreet with his staring. He had to think of something to say. Fast.
"Just…"
He trailed off for a moment, voice just as quiet as Blake's but still loud enough to be heard even with all the talking around them. And after a second, he thought of something to say. Something that had honestly been bothering him since they first saw this warehouse.
"I'm…guessing you've been to a couple of these rallies before, right?"
He really hoped he wasn't putting his foot in his mouth right now. He still didn't quite know what kind of questions were considered "off limits" to Blake.
"Yeah. Why?"
If Blake was in any way bothered by his words, he couldn't tell. Her voice was just as dry as always, little to no emotion whatsoever in her words.
"…Are they usually this guarded?"
He wasn't a terrorist—and was very much glad about that fact—but some of the security he and Blake had encountered just seemed excessive. Before they had entered the building, there had been guards fully armed standing right in front of the entrance. Two of the guards had searched every possible recruit before they entered, including him and Blake; but because of the nature of their weapons, it hadn't been too hard to hide them on their bodies.
But even after that, the hallways they had been through had a guard at the start and at the end of every junction; each one had been armed just as much as guards at the entrance. And in the massive room they now stood in, he saw dozens of guards on several different catwalks hanging from the ceiling; looking down at them with their weapons clenched tightly in their hands. The only people that weren't armed were the crowd of White Fang members standing next to the recruits, and he had a feeling the only reason they weren't was so that they didn't scare off any future terrorist.
All of that security for what was just a rally seemed…excessive.
Blake didn't respond right away to his words. She only turned her head left and right, and he was pretty sure she was looking at the guards.
"No. They aren't."
Blake's words were curt and low.
"This is…strange. The White Fang have never had this kind of security for just a rally before."
He could almost see her eyes narrow behind her Grimm mask.
"It's like they're expecting something to go wrong."
That…did not sound good.
He glanced around at the guards above them. He was kinda sure that the guards weren't for him and Blake—because there was no way these guys could know they were coming—but the fact that there were about a hundred guards spread throughout the warehouse made things a lot harder. Sure, alone any of these terrorists weren't exactly a threat. But with this many armed and ready, if something were to go wrong and he and Blake had to make a break for it, they experience some problems.
Namely, getting shot so many times that their Aura would be completely depleted and then getting blasted without a protective shield around their bodies.
He would very much like to avoid that option if he could.
"So…what happens if we need to book it?"
"It shouldn't come to that. To everyone here, we're just eager recruits wanting to join the White Fang."
Blake slowly looked over her shoulder.
"But, if it does, there's a window on the wall we could use to escape."
He followed Blake's gaze and saw a large glass window on the wall all the way at the back of the room, just low enough where he was sure he could make the jump.
"What about the guards outside?"
"They'll be distracted by the glass hitting them, and after that, it shouldn't be too hard to either fight them off or run away."
It was somewhat relieving to hear that they did actually have an exit strategy. But only somewhat. Because there were still a lot of things that could go wrong if things did go south.
He once again looked up, and the guards high above them continued to pace around on the catwalks. Seriously, why exactly were there so many guards for a rally? It was like they thought that someone might try and attack them and they sent all these people as a defense. Maybe they thought the police or Huntsman would show up? Wait no, that couldn't be it; because if the White Fang did think that, why would they bother holding a rally? It would be a waste to essentially give up so many men in what would be a pointless fight.
It almost felt like they sent all these extra men and weapons just in case. Just in case someone did try something, they would be ready. But, why would they go to such lengths for a rally?
He stared at the huge…thing that was covered by the black tarp with the White Fang logo near the top.
…Could it have something to do with-?
From behind the tarp, someone stepped out. It was another White Fang member, but he was different. He had way more muscles than he had seen from anyone from the White Fang, black tattoos that stretched across his left forearm, and had on a Grimm mask that covered his entire face.
"Lieutenant."
He turned his head and saw Blake frown, shoulders tensing.
"Who?"
"He's the right-hand man of Ad—I-I mean the leader of Vale's White Fang branch."
He blinked. Did Blake just…stutter? That couldn't mean anything good.
"So…is this guy bad news?"
"It depends."
"On?"
Blake followed the Lieutenant's every move.
"If his leader's here with him."
He never heard Blake sound so serious before. And…it could've just been his imagination, but he thought he heard something else in her voice; something tiny, but still there. Something that kinda sounded like fea-.
"Thank you all for coming!"
The chattering voices around them quickly began to die down as the Lieutenant's shout echoed throughout the room.
"I am pleased to see so many faces here; both new and familiar! It is because of people like you, people who will no longer take injustice after injustice in silence, that the White Fang has prospered so much! You have my thanks for finally taking the first step in getting back against those vile humans who have made us suffer for so long!"
Everyone around him and Blake were suddenly cheering, some even jumping where they stood as they screamed. And he suddenly saw why so many people were swayed to the White Fang's side. Because if they had guys like this lieutenant—guys who spoke every word of propaganda with passion that roared throughout his voice—then it would be easy to convince victims of racism and prejudices to join their cause.
No matter how destructive it may be.
"But tonight, I am not just here to welcome my new brothers and sisters! Tonight, I am here to show you all how the White Fang will bring change to the corrupt society we live in!"
More cheers erupted everywhere. And from behind the tarp, someone else stepped out.
"And to do that, I've brought a special comrade with me. "
He instantly recognized that cane. The confident way in which he walked across the stage. That oh-so-smug look on his face.
"He is the key to obtaining what we have fought for so long for."
Roman Torchwick looked at the suddenly speechless crowd of Faunus—at least, the possible recruits were—that hated his guts just a few feet away from him with a big grin.
"I present to you…Roman Torchwick!"
The moment the Lieutenant finished speaking, the entire crowd of possible recruits and full-fledged members started to boo Torchwick. And he was one of them. He was supposed to fit in, after all.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Blake staring at him; and even with her mask, he could imagine the exasperated look on her face that basically said "really?"
The crowd continued to boo, and Roman's grin never once faltered as he walked to the center of the stage; right next to the Lieutenant, who held out a hand at the crowd. Slowly, the Faunus around him stopped booing, and the Lieutenant spoke again.
"Please, let the human speak. All will make sense once you hear what he has to say."
With that, the Lieutenant took a few steps backward as Torchwick turned his head towards him.
"Thanks for the introduction. But it looks like it wasn't needed."
Torchwick spread his arms wide before shouting.
"You all know who I am, right!?"
The crowd once again booed. And once again, he joined in.
This time, Blake elbowed somewhat harshly in his ribs. His booing came to an abrupt end as he coughed, turning to look at Blake.
"Focus, Sun."
Her tone wasn't quite scolding, but it was very stern. He quickly gave her an apologetic smile.
"What's a human even doing here!?"
From a few feet in front of him, a deer Faunus somehow had managed to shout over the roar of boos. And the moment the crowd heard her, they immediately started shouting similar things at Torchwick.
Who still smiled and still held his arms out as a crowd of very angry Faunus shouted how much they hated him. He kept smiling as the Lieutenant once again held out his hand and signaled the crowd to be silent. It took longer than before, but eventually, everything went quiet.
Until Torchwick spoke up again.
"You done? Good."
Torchwick suddenly lifted his cane and pointed at the deer Faunus who spoke up.
"Now, that was an excellent question, dearie."
Wow, he wasn't even trying not to be an ass. He saw the deer Faunus bristle and about to shout something, but Torchwick interrupted her.
"I'll be the first to admit it: humans. Are. The worse."
That got the crowd's attention. The only response to Torchwick's words was confused muttering as the "gentleman thief" began to pace on the edge of the stage; pointing a finger at himself.
"Case in point. So I understand why you love to see us locked away, or better yet, killed."
…Okay, was Torchwick going somewhere with this? Because right now, he wasn't really getting what Torchwick was-.
He heard something coming from his left; it was a small, almost inaudible sound but it still reached his ears. And then he felt something brush against his cheek.
He turned his head to where he heard the sound and felt the brushing sensation, but he saw nothing. Huh. That was…kinda weird. Did he just imagine-?
"But, before you take out your claws, I would like to mention the fact that you and I share a common enemy."
He saw Torchwick tap his cane a few times on the edge of the stage before pointing up at the ceiling.
"The ones in control. The people pulling the strings. The dirty, rotten, humans that run our kingdoms."
Around him, he could saw some of the Faunus actually grow contemplative at his words; some even muttered agreements. Even the actual White Fang members seemed to take a moment to consider what Torchwick was saying.
Okay, he'd give the asshole this. He knew how to work a crowd. Which, in hindsight shouldn't be surprising considering just how much he loved to gloat and-.
There it was again, that tiny sound that came from his left. He turned his head and once again saw nothing. He frowned as his eyes glanced from side to side. He was sure that he didn't imagine the sound; not after hearing it twice in a row.
Wait, make that three times. Because now, he was hearing it again, this time even louder than before. It was starting to sound like some kind of…buzzing?
"-and schools. They're the ones responsible for your lot in life."
Some people started to cheer at Torchwick's word; words that he was having trouble focusing on. That sound was starting to get annoying, and he still couldn't find where it was coming from. He constantly felt something touching his skin, saw what looked like a black speck appear in his vision before quickly disappearing, but no matter where he looked, nothing was there.
And the sound just. Got. Louder.
"-pests that need to be dealt with."
The buzzing was getting so bad that he was actually starting to have trouble hearing what Torchwick was saying. As he kept failing to see just what was flying around him—because that was the only way he could explain how he couldn't find it— the frustration within him steadily rose. His squinted his eyes and turned his head in every direction, but he didn't-.
Wait.
He saw something. Right on the edge of his vision, he saw something…climbing on his cheek; just a few inches away from the corner of his Grimm mask. Something black with tiny legs and thin wings and-.
Oh, it was a fly. A regular, tiny horsefly. He…probably should've realized that a lot sooner. But, now that he found the source of that noise, he could put a stop to it.
Slowly, he raised his left hand. The fly was still in the exact same spot on his cheek, begging him to crush it after all the annoyance it had caused him. And so long as he didn't miss, the fly would-.
"Thankfully for you, I'm the best exterminator around."
Wait, what was that?
Just as he was about to smack the fly, Torchwick's words made him pause. He looked up and saw the man's grin grow just as he snapped his fingers.
The Lieutenant walked up to the large thing on the stage and grabbed a part of the tarp covering it with a single hand. With a quick, strong, tug, the tarp came off, revealing what was underneath. The crowd gasped.
And his eyes widened as he saw the giant robot standing in the center of the stage. It was a huge bipedal metal monster that was easily five times his height; maybe even bigger than that. It had large guns attached to the front of its rectangle-shaped arms, what looked like rocket launches just peaking above its back, and a metal hull that-.
The fly on his cheek bit him, interrupting his shock and awe over the robot and actually stinging him a bit.
Without even a moment's hesitation, and a slight growl, he smacked his hand against his cheek.
Really, sometimes he shocked himself with just how good he was at talking.
Roman Torchwick watched as the crowd that hated his guts stood in awe at the Atlesian Paladin. With barely any effort, he redirected the animals' anger towards society itself, made them think that he was on their side, and now had them listening to his every word.
Really, he deserved a raise; if he was actually getting paid, that is. He could already see how this would end. The White Fang would get more cannon fodder here than they had ever gotten before thanks to his eloquent words, and the current cannon fodder would see how staying with their fanatical "friends" was a swell idea since they now had rather big guns to play with. And, if they still didn't feel like staying, well, the giant mech-suit behind him should make it clear just how much power both he and the White Fang had.
And if they had the power to capture high-tech like this, how easy would it be for them to put down a little runaway?
His grin grew, just like the silence. He slowly opened his mouth, the words for his flawless speech already on his tongue and eager to go. When he was finished speaking, the only sound in this little auditorium would be the energetic cries of-.
"Ow!"
Ow, yes, that would be what these animals would shout as—wait a minute.
Ow?
He blinked as he turned his head to where he heard that sudden shout of pain. And it didn't take him long to find out where it came from. Both because of just how quiet it had been a moment before, and because literally everyone in the crowd turned towards the direction of the voice.
Near the middle of the possible recruits, he saw a man rubbing his cheek, head bowed to the left and making it hard to see his face; not at all helped by the poor lighting in this place. Next to the man was a girl that sated at the possible future mook with an open mouth. The girl had long black hair, a grim mask on her pale face and…cat ears.
His eyes narrowed.
Cat ears. Pale skin. Long black hair. Characteristics he had seen before. Characteristics that were very familiar.
The man next to the woman groaned as he lifted his head up.
And he saw that the man had blonde hair and bright blue eyes. And a face that he instantly recognized.
And as the man suddenly realized how he had the entire crowds' attention—eyes now wide as his head swiveled in every direction— he turned back to the monkey's little girlfriend.
His little, cat girlfriend that was staring right at him—but even with that mask on her face, he knew her amber eyes were wide.
His lips moved into a wide smile.
Well, well, well. Looked like some baby Huntsman and Huntresses had wandered a bit too far from Beacon. And being the responsible citizen he was, he supposed he should send them back home safely.
In a coffin, of course.
He was just about to shout. Only one second away from telling the recruits around those brats to dogpile on them and telling the guards to aim their guns at those kids before they tried something. But before any words could leave his mouth, another sound echoed throughout the room.
The sound of someone once again yelping in pain.
He blinked again as the crowd turned towards the source of the shout. A gopher-like animal—as in a man that had shaggy hair and one large, very sharp front tooth—had his head bowed forward as he rubbed the back of it; like he had been struck there.
And then there was another cry. This time it was from the actual members of the White Fang. He whirled his head and saw one of the grunts in the middle stagger backward, one hand wrapped around his gut, before he crashed into the cannon fodder behind him as they all fell to the ground.
And then there was another yelp. Followed by a shriek. Followed by a loud "shit!" screamed at the top of someone's lungs.
He blinked again as he watched more and more animals suddenly crying out in pain; some of them falling on their asses, some stumbling before colliding with a large group of fellow terrorist, and some whirling around as if they had just received the biggest slap of their life.
And then came the anger. The moment some of the animals regained their bearing, they started accusing the other of striking them. Shouts of "the hell's your problem" or "you wanna go?!" and, his personal favorite, "did you just smack my ass!?" rumbled through the once silent auditorium. Even with the Chihuahua suddenly right by his side as he shouted for everyone to calm down, the other animals in the room looked ready to beat the shit out of each other.
And while watching animals of all shapes and sizes brawl would've been amusing, other things currently needed his attention. Namely, the little brats that were about to meet their end.
His eyes darted across the auditorium, searching for the two he had lost in the sudden chaos. And after a few seconds, he found them trying to get their way through the thick crowd as quickly as they could.
Kitty-cat turned around for a moment, Grimm mask long gone, and stared right at his face. Her head then whirled to the right towards one of the columns near the stage.
The column that had the black fuse box for the lights.
He saw her reach for her thighs, where she kept her weapon holster if his memory served right, and he shouted at the White Fang grunts to stop them.
Or, he would've, anyway.
Because once again, just as he was about to speak up, something interrupted him. This time, it was the light suddenly going out.
Even though the cat-girl had yet to even fire off her weapons.
His eyes widened slightly as his head looked towards the lights above. But he couldn't see anything; thick, inky black was the only thing that his eyes could take in. And the sudden darkness that enveloped every inch of the room made everyone present pause.
He quickly raised Melodic Cudgel, the end now pointed out and the lid sliding open as he got into a loose stance. His eyes darted left and right as the silence in the room became far more unsettling than it was before.
…Shit. Someone else was here. Someone who was going to do something while the lights were out. But they were prepared. In the darkness he could hear every single grunt in the room unsheathe their swords of cock their guns; and since these animals could see even better in the dark, nothing could possibly get by their sight. Neo had been using her Semblance since this rally started, so even if someone did get by the cannon fodder, she could make up for their mistakes.
He let out a long breath.
The only question he had was if they were dealing with the same bastard stealing from him or the bastard that had put Mercury and Emerald into-.
He heard something. Something slicing—no wait, falling, through the air. It was impossible not to hear in the smothering silence, and his head whirled in every direction as he tried to find where that sound was coming from.
And then he felt something crash into his head. He let out a curse and whatever the hell hit him fell over his hat and into his view. He couldn't make out any distinct details of the object—all he saw was that whatever hit him was somehow less dark than everything else around him—but when he squinted his eyes, the shape almost looked famila-.
Suddenly, the object started to glow white; the darkness faded.
And in a literal second, the glow turned into a pulsating assault of intense light that burned his retinas. And as he screamed from the burning pain his eyes were in, as he stumbled backwards and almost fell down, there was one thought going through his mind.
A God damn flashbang!? How!?
He continued to stumble as his hands now covered his eyes, his screaming not even remotely dwindling. The sound that flashbang—who in the hell could've thrown that thing!?—made was like a dozen little explosion going off right in his ear canal. But even with the damn bells ringing within the very depths of his head, he still heard it.
He heard what sounded like hundreds of similar explosions going off around him. He heard faint screams, ones that would get louder as the buzzing faded, reach his damaged ears as his back crashed into the Paladin behind him, his screams coming to an abrupt end. He quickly leaned against the robot to support himself as he shook his head. Thankfully, when one gets hit by flashbangs time after time, their bodies learn how to quickly overcome the damn ringing and blindness rather quickly. Which was why the whiteness was already fading and the buzzing started to decrease in volume.
And why he could hear someone screaming their head off from above. He looked up and saw that on the catwalks one of the White Fang grunts firing his gun over and over again—the small burst of light the came from each shot somewhat illuminating the space he stood on—as something rapidly approached him; not even slightly slowed down by the hail of bullets. Something covered in the same darkness around them, making any features it had impossible to see.
And when the dark figure was suddenly in front of the grunt, seeming to fly through the air in an instant, the bullets stopped firing. And there was a shrill shriek.
He only just now noticed how none of the other animals on the catwalk were firing their weapons or making even the tiniest movement.
Oh, shit.
With somewhat shaky arms, he quickly pushed off the Paladin and raised Melodic Cudgel, taking aim at the blur on the catwalk.
And once again, he felt something hit his head.
This time though, he was smart enough to cross his arms over his face and clench his eyes as tightly as he could. He heard explosion after explosion come from the crowd of animals as their screams echoed throughout the entire building.
And then he was once again assaulted by bright white. The ringing was back, and he was no longer able to keep his balance as he stumbled before crashing face-first onto the ground.
God…damn it.
He had no idea how long he laid on the cold metal of the stage, but he had to get up. Now. He resisted the urge to vomit as he placed two hands on the ground. Slowly, he pushed up, and slowly, his vision started to return; adjusting to the darkness quickly. He could make out the vague outline of the Chihuahua laying on the ground a few feet away from him as the man let out a loud groan. He saw another shape farther away, this one smaller than the animal and kneeling on the ground—it took him a moment to realize that was Neo.
And he saw something standing near the Paladin. He saw the same shadow-covered figure suddenly standing only a few feet away from the giant mech-suit. The blur had what looked like a hand placed right on top of the robot's legs.
And then the blur slowly started to walk away from the mech-suit as it jumped off the stage and into the crowd. He watched as the figure made its way deeper and deeper into the groaning mass of darkness-covered animals that were either laying on the ground or shakily wobbling to their feet. He never lost track of the blur though, always making sure to follow its every movement.
But then the lights were suddenly back on and he was suddenly blind again. He clenched his eyes and let out a hiss before he quickly realized that he had just lost sight of the blur.
With some effort, he was able to get back to his feet. Slowly opening his eyes, he took in everything around him in an instant.
He took in the crowd of Faunus, some vomiting as they laid on the ground and others barely even able to stay standing.
He saw the dead bodies of the White Fang grunts on the catwalks—each one practically drowning in a pool of their own blood that dripped to the ground below.
He saw Neo rubbing her head with one hand as she shakily stood up.
And all the way in the back leaning against the metal entrance doors, he saw the blur. The blur that was now a man with a deep blue suit that exposed his chest. Someone who wore white gloves with green ladybug emblems at the center.
The man who had beaten Mercury and Emerald was only hundreds of feet away from him. Though, there was one thing he noticed that Mercury never mentioned. The man wore a hat that, with his head tilted as it was now, covered his face in shadows. A hat that almost looked exactly like his ow-.
He stopped thinking. Slowly, he brought a hand over his head. And all he felt was his perfectly combed orange-hair.
He was suddenly growling. His lips were in snarl, and once again Melodic Cudgel was raised right at the bastard who had stolen his hat!
No one—no one—messed with his wardrobe!
"Who the hell do you think you are!?"
His furious shout attracted the attention of any animal that was still conscious—including kitty-cat as her head whipped to the doors and saw the bastard who, if his ears were actually working right, laughed as his fingers grabbed the edges of his hat.
"Why, isn't it obvious, Mr. Torchwick?"
The bastard's voice was smoother than velvet; without even shouting, it traveled throughout the room like a soft breeze. There was no worry or concern or even a drop of fear anywhere in his words.
And that only made him angrier as he was just a hairs-width away from firing.
"I'm the man that's been robbing you blind."
The bastard pointed a finger to something a few feet to the left of him. With a glance, he saw nothing there but Neo and the animal. He didn't know what this bastard was up to, but he wasn't-.
He froze.
The only things he had seen…were Neo and the animal.
Slowly, he turned his head.
And the Atelsian Paladin, the twenty-five feet tall robot, was gone. He had literally just seen it, but somehow, someway, it had vanished.
"What the-?"
The sound of metal screeching open made him stop talking. He whipped his head back to the bastard.
And he saw the bastard had taken of his hat, now holding it with one arm that he held out to the side as the other one pushed the door open. He saw the man's blue eyes—eyes that were both calm as the ocean yet harder than diamonds—staring right at him.
And he also saw the man's lips in smuggest grin he had ever seen in his life.
"Until we meet again, Mr. Torchwick."
And with that, the man walked through the doors and gently closed them behind him.
Leaving him shaking with rage. This bastard…had stolen from him. Again. This time, from literally right in front of him and Neo, and made them look like chumps.
Slowly, he turned towards his trusted partner.
And Neo had on the most insulted expression he had ever seen from her as she turned to stare at him. Just by looking at one another, they both knew what they were had to do. But still, he said it out loud anyway.
"Neo…"
His voice was far too quiet for the rage that consumed it, but he didn't really care right now. He slowly walked across the stage towards his partner, whose eyes were growing with fury as they moved into a smoldering glare.
"Why don't we go teach this son of a bitch why were the best criminals in town?"
Neo nodded her head, fist clenched at her sides.
"Well then, what are we waiting-?"
He didn't finish as something slammed into his head from above. His eyes went wide—just like Neo's—as a flashbang was suddenly floating between them.
And as another horrible, agonizing, and all around God-awful explosion of light erupted in front of him…in all honesty, he wasn't even mad.
"YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD, GOLDIE!"
He was just pissed.
To Be Continued~