ROMAN TORCHWICK

"What the hell!?" The first words that Roman Torchwick managed to form on his lips were reasonable, given the circumstance he found himself in. He was standing on a hard surface, it felt like smooth white marble beneath his bare feet. As he looked around he could see he was on a step… a single massive stair on a stairway that stretched as far as the eye could see above and below him. He seemed to be inside a circular room, with gray stone walls that stretched as seemingly endlessly as the stairway contained within them.

How did he get here? What was he doing before? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. He was talking -no, fighting- with… ugh, what's-her-name? The naive brat with the scythe. He had her dead to rights, then…

His train of thought halted as a bolt of pain ran up his spine toward his head, causing him to grip his forehead. Seemed his brain didn't want to cooperate with him yet. He opened a green eye and looked around once more, trying to find something...anything … familiar. It was then that he realized he wasn't alone.

On the step behind him stood a gaunt man, naked as the day he was born, standing perfectly straight and staring forward with no emotion on his thin face. Torchwick raised a hand and shook it, as if to draw the man's attention toward him, but the stranger's pale blue eyes didn't even offer to change their direction. He stood perfectly still at the very edge of the lower step, neither breathing nor blinking.

Torchwick turned in a slow circle as he examined the stairway more carefully: each individual stair had someone on it. The steps were fairly big -each long enough that he could comfortably lay on one, if he'd wanted, and more than twice as wide- yet each person seemed incapable of moving onto a step that already had an occupant. The people on steps above him shambled forward like zombies, each waiting for the occupant of the step above them to climb before following suit. The people on the steps below him had come to a complete halt at the edge of their respective platforms, apparently waiting for him to move on.

Men and women. The elderly and children. Faunus and human. There was no commonality between the people around him, save that they all seemed mindless and oblivious to their surroundings. Torchwick seemed to be the only one aware of where he was.

"Curious… so very, very curious." A woman's voice echoed in the air around him, her tone almost like a song. The words were accompanied by the tap tap tap of claws on marble. He turned abruptly, jerking his eyes downward in time to see a small, furry creature slowly climbing the stairs toward him. His heart began to race, though as the creature came closer he calmed a bit. She was a white dog, about the size of a golden retriever, with long, shaggy fur and dark brown she could speak was strange; that she was here was strange, but... well... she was still just a dog. The tap of her claws grew louder as she closed the distance toward him, her gaze locking on his.

"A holdup in the line. Such a thing has never happened before. No precedent. No precedent at all. What seems to be the issue?" Her words didn't seem to address anyone in particular. Their rhythm was rapid and the cadence was jerky and strange. It was a manner of speaking that implied a person who primarily talked only to themselves.

"Hey! Puppy! Up here!" Torchwick called as the beast approached, his voice carrying a confident firmness that, in truth, he didn't feel at all. "Where am I? For that matter, who are you?"

The white dog halted its approach for just a moment at his question, cocking her head as her eyes examined him from head to toe.

"Speech! The human has spoken! Spoken! This has truly never happened! Absolutely, positively no precedent!" The realization seemed to excite her, as her long, bushy tail began to wag. She resumed her approach now, her pace quickening to a light trot. "For a human to retain its sense of self in this place! How many things must go just right for it to be possible? First: a will to survive so strong it resists the initial shock of death. Second: for the Creature of Grimm who devoured them to have died before digesting their soul completely. Then, finally: for them to have the sheer dumb luck to awaken before reaching the top of the stairway. I stand in the presence of a very lucky human! Quite lucky!"

"… the initial shock of death."
"...the Creature of Grimm who devoured them..."

Another thunderbolt of pain shot up Torchwick's spine, this time so intense that he fell to his knees from the onset. He caught his weight by throwing his hands beneath him as he collapsed, watching his outstretched fingers press against the smooth marble of the stairway. He'd been fighting the Little Red. He was angry with her. He intended to kill her. Then… a flash in his eyes. A Grim? Only darkness after that. Darkness and a crushing, burning agony.

His breathing began to hitch, and then to hasten, matching the increased speed of his heart as fragmented memories pieced themselves together in his mind. The picture formed slowly, but it felt complete. He'd led an assault. He'd been… forced into a position by the witch and her kids, but it didn't matter. He'd have the last laugh. He'd turn everything around. He'd survive. Except…

"Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?" He choked the words out after a moment, not really intending to direct the questions to anyone, though the dog was happy to take the initiative. For a moment a glimmer of hope cut through the mix of negative emotions that otherwise occupied his gut. Was Neo here? No way in hell she'd become one of these brainless ghouls... maybe they could bust out together! The thought of his partner in crime brought more hazy memories of his last night alive... sorrow and hatred in equal measure. It couldn't be that easy to kill her. Not Neo.

"Two questions the human asked! Two questions, Scathach will answer!" She said, cheerily. She had closed the distance between them while he had been lost in thought, and now stood beside him as he knelt, sniffing him curiously. He let out an agitated sigh and shooed her away, forcing himself back up onto his feet in spite of the lingering pain.

"You are assuredly dead, Mr. Human." She began, nodding her head as if the point needed more affirmation. She raised her long white snout and looked up at him. "'Afterlife', however? Hmmm… This is not the place where humans are meant to go when they die. Rather, a world where only the devoured gain access. 'tis the stairway of purification."

"Devoured..." Mused Torchwick thoughtfully as he met the beast's eyes. By instinct he reached for the brim of his hat; his hand impotently fumbling as only air greeted it. He looked up in a panic. Had he lost his hat somewhere? Wait, though… for the first time since he'd awoken he looked down at himself. The light skin of his chest, muscles toned from a lifetime of fighting and struggle, was on full display, as was the skin of regions far more intimate… he was naked! Upon finding out that you were dead, you might expect the followup revelation that you were also not clothed wouldn't be upsetting… but damned if he didn't find it so, all the same! He awkwardly placed one leg in front of the other, bending his body, as if to defend his modesty from the animal.

"S-so only people who are eaten by Grimm end up here? Is that what you're sayin'?" He asked abruptly, as if hoping to distract his companion from something she hadn't been mindful of to begin with. A bit of a country accent tended to slip into his speech when he wasn't careful. If what she said was true, it cast a dark pall on the wide range of people on the steps, especially the children, though Torchwick wasn't such a saint that he was especially broken up about it. The world was cold. Children died every day.

"Just so! Scathach is relieved that she need not repeat herself to you, Mr. Human. The Creatures of Grimm have been put to a purpose, you see. One unknown even to the god who created them and to the rebel who now controls them. The Master of Scathach has connected herself to the stream of-"

Torchwick narrowed his eyes, reaching out to softly grip the dog's muzzle and hold it closed. She made a disgruntled noise at this, her words jumbling within her maw as she cast him a confused stare.

"Look, I'm sorry, that was my fault." He said, letting a small smile tug at his lips. His head was killing him, and he really couldn't handle all of this right now. "I shouldn't have asked a question when I didn't really give a crap about the answer, so let's refocus the subject to something a bit more in line with my current needs: How do I get out of here?"

"'Get out of here', Mr. Human says." The dog cackled like a crone, leaning back on her haunches and stretching her forelegs. "'Return to Remnant', the clear implication. Of course he would want that-of course!- but what should Scathach do? Her duty to her Master is clear… Scathach should rend your consciousness asunder and have you resume your climb, but she pities you, Mr. Human. Quite sincerely."

Resume his climb… He arched his back, casting his gaze as far up as he was able. The stairs extended to the very limits of his vision. Up and up they went, coiled about the inside of the great stone walls like a serpent, leading into a bright white light high above. Staring into that light provoked a visceral reaction in his body. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt his core temperature drop, eliciting a deep shiver.

The confident smile at his lips, and his unshaking gaze attempted to present the hastened tone of the words that came next as mere enthusiasm, though, in truth, primal fear had awoken a sense of dread in him he was usually much better at keeping hidden: "YES! Pity me. Pity poor Roman. Listen, if there's a way to return, just tell me. You can whisper it if you're afraid of getting caught. If it's even remotely within my control, we'll never meet again, but if we do, I'll repay the favor someday. Thief's honor!"

He reached down to grip the dog's cheeks, and accidentally squeezed a bit harder than he'd intended to.

Torchwick wasn't the kind of person to panic at the first sign of trouble, but an instinct deep inside him was screaming warnings inside his brain. No matter what, no good would come from climbing this staircase.

Scathach simply cackled again, her canine eyes narrowing in glee as she licked his wrist and pressed the side of her head against his trembling hand.

"Do not fret, Mr. Human. Scathach has decided. She will aid you for now. Scathach has dwelt within this tower for so great a time that the concept of 'time' itself has lost meaning. Watching you struggle against your fate will, if nothing else, abate her melancholy for a spell." The worry melted off of Torchwick's soul as her words reached his ears, a sharp exhale escaping him as he threw his arms around her, laughing like a madman.

"Oh! You beautiful scamp, I could kiss you! Don't you worry, abating melancholy is what I'm all about! So how does this work? Do I gotta click my heels or something?"

"Heels? No…" Scathach once again tilted her head, her floppy ears wiggling. "Mr. Human likely believes he's seeing right now. That he's hearing right now. He's not though. Mr. Human is dead, and the dead have no eyes to see with nor ears to hear with. Human consciousness is not meant to exist in this place, so your soul is directing your perception of the energy around you into a form your mind can comprehend."

"Huh, neat. Not to restate my disdain for answers to questions I don't care about… but this would aid in my escape, because...?" Torchwick yawned and stretched, suddenly feeling very stiff. Well, it wasn't unusual for a dead guy to be stiff, but still.

"Because you're energy! As is Scathach, and your fellow humans here, and the walls, and the stairway itself! Constructs of dust to be purified, existing within and without the world of Remnant. It's rare, but the users of exceptionally powerful examples of the ability you humans call 'Semblances' create their power by subconsciously drawing upon this very energy as their fuel. The walls of this stairway prevent gods and humans from stealing the souls Master has rightfully plundered, but they only prevent outside forces from breaking in. If Mr. Human were to find one of the pathways another human's semblance draws energy from, he could push himself into the stream of that pathway and follow it back to the world he seeks." Despite having the mid-register, cracked voice of an elderly woman, Scathach's explanation was delivered at a frenetic, excited pace, like a young girl telling a story. It was clear by her tone that she was happy for the chance to talk to someone, even if they were just asking for directions on how to get away from her.

"Digging my way out of prison, basically. Won't be the first time I've done that… probably won't be the last. It's a plan I can 'dig', puppy. So how do I find one of these pathways?" He moved to sit at the edge of the step and peer down into the inky blackness that extended below him. Seeing it didn't fill him with the primal terror he felt when he looked up… but he wasn't exactly eager to try to go down, either.

"You'll feel them easily once your mind stops tricking you. Close your eyes and plug your ears. Force your mind to perceive this space as it truly is!"

"That easy? I guess I prefer things easy." He shrugged, but did as he was bade; closing his eyes and drawing his palms over his ears.

The sensation that followed was difficult for him to articulate, for it was so drastically different from anything he could have experienced while he was alive. He felt his body seem to spread out, expanding and mingling with everything around him. No, that wasn't it… everything around him was already him. He was a single drop of water in a sea, conscious of his being separate despite being irrevocably a part of the whole. He stifled a gasp as the feeling overwhelmed him, but after the initial shock, he found he was able to extend his senses further than he'd ever thought before.

Once he'd fully adjusted to the change in perception, he felt those 'pathways', just as Scathach had told him. If he and the rest of this space was water, then these pathways felt like straws attempting to siphon that water. They extended through the space around the stairway, but whenever they tried to enter it, the walls would glow and force them to turn and bend around. Torchwick was reminded of those juice pouches his dad would sometimes buy him as a kid, that came with the pointed straws he never could quite get the hang of using.

So this was his ticket back to the land of the living! He instinctively began to drift toward the nearest pathway, reaching out for the wall separating him from his destination.

"Good luck with your escape, Mr. Human! Scathach will watch your struggles with great interest. Oh! Before you go, one final warning: If you're rejected by the human whose semblance summons you, the connection to the tower will sever and you'll be returned here. If that happens, it's unlikely you'll be able to escape again." As she spoke, Torchwick flowed toward the wall. He pressed his hand against it, and saw the light flicker and part before him, like a doorway opening. The instant it did, an irresistible force pulled him forward. He felt himself whip and slide as he was suddenly traveling at a great speed. At this point he no longer had any power to resist, so he just relaxed and went with the flow. Hopefully this was taking him home.

'Reject me? Eh, I'll just schmooze 'em. Everyone has something they want, and if I can convince them that I can help them get it, then they'll trust me even against their own better judgment.' He mulled over the dog's final warning as he traveled. He may not know his semblance, but he'd lived as long as this because he had a talent for reading people.

Suddenly what had seemed like an endless tunnel before him came to an abrupt stop. A light blue glyph began to etch itself into the space around him, but before he could even try to make out what shape it was taking, he crashed through it, watching as his body was swallowed up by a freezing aura, and then feeling his consciousness fade to darkness.

***

He wasn't sure how long he was out, but when he came to he was surrounded by a light blue fog that hung in the air, obscuring his view. As he blinked himself awake he saw that his hand was now clad in a long black glove… giving him a hope that he confirmed as he looked down to find that his trademark outfit was back, though this was tinged with some disappointment as he reached up and discovered that his hat was still MIA. Ah well! He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't naked, anymore. That'd make this a little less awkward, at least.

The mist cast everything around him in shadow, but he saw enough to feel a surge of excitement. He was in a room now. He could make out the outline of a bed nearby. The dark blue and white tiling of the floor shined to such a sheen that it made the surrounding seem to glow… He was out!

"Hey, is anyone there?" He called out, looking around in an effort to find his summoner. "Listen, I know this is sudden, but hear me out, okay?" He'd turned 90 degrees before he saw her.

She was a small woman. Even from his position a few feet away he could see that he towered more than a head over her. Her skin was such a pale white that within the shroud of the mist around her she seemed almost to vanish. This wasn't a problem for her eyes, though, despite their sharing a similar blue to the fog he could feel the strength of their gaze as she peered at him, a look of utter shock on her face.

"There you are! Hi, sorry for the intrusion, but I am SUPER glad to see you! Today has been such a chore, after al- wait a minute..." He took a couple steps closer to her. Her hair seemed only marginally shorter than she was tall, white as snow, and kept in a ponytail tied just to the right side of the back of her head, breaking the symmetry of her features. Something about the look was familiar to him. He didn't think he'd ever talked to her before, but he felt like he'd seen her, absolutely, and by the time he'd taken his fourth step toward her, the pieces clicked together.

'The train, Roman. You know her from the goddamned train. She's one of Little Red's friends...' He stopped abruptly in mid step as the thought occurred to him, and a wry smile beginning to pull at the corner of his lips. Hey, it was one time… and he was fairly sure she was unconscious at the time... maybe she didn't remember him?

Alas, while she hadn't spoken since his arrival- no doubt understandably shocked from the sight of a human spirit summoning himself from her Semblance- Her eyes slowly began to narrow, her brow furrowing in an unmistakable look of both recognition and disgust.

"Of course this is what's happening. Of course it is." Torchwick muttered as he slumped his shoulders and sighed, only to immediately straightened himself up and looked her in the eyes, raising his hands in the air in an effort to make himself look as nonthreatening as possible. He had to plead his case before she severed his connection to her. "W-wait, though, Snowflake, listen. Please, PLEASE listen!"

There was an angry scream, followed by a flash, and suddenly the room became much colder.