Week 1: Supply Line

Roman Torchwick was currently facing a dilemma.

Well, okay, putting it like that gave the problem far more credit than it was worth. In actuality, the well-dressed criminal was simply faced with a choice he'd rather not make. There were many times in his career where he'd have to make similar decisions, weighing the benefits of potential actions as he tried to balance risk and reward. Usually, he'd go for the most entertaining choice, but the criminal could see no clear-cut answer for his current moral quandary.

You know how he wanted to take advantage of Red as a distraction for the Guildmaster? Well, it worked.

And if this was Remnant, that would've been the end of that. Roman would've taken advantage of the situation, stealing everything remotely valuable before ditching Red to explain to the good shopkeeper why he was missing everything remotely valuable. But the problem was... This wasn't Remnant; this was some strange bizarro world that completely defies any of your past experiences, throwing them to wayside only to introduce completely nonsensical things.

What did he mean by that? Well, for starters, Roman had been 'browsing' the store for almost twenty minutes, searching through numerous shelves and counter-tops as he 'appraised' various goods. Normally, people would start asking questions after three minutes... Maybe ask if he needed help, or why he was looking exclusively at semi-valuable items that seemed to disappear a few moments later. Heck, even that senile old man from that one Dust shop would've gotten suspicious by now.

But while that may be true for some squinty-eyed geezer, it apparently wasn't the case for the bearded leader of the town's largest economic entity. At least, he assumed it was, considering the sheer size of the Merchant Guild's structure, as well as the fact that there were literally no other formalized shops around. Yet, in spite of his position and all the responsibilities it entailed, the Merchant Guildmaster had chosen to leave Roman alone, paying absolutely no attention to the suited criminal.

At first, he thought that reason why the bearded merchant had chosen to ignore him was because of how utterly worthless all these items were. The store seemed to have an affinity for junk, as it prominently displayed useless bits of trash that seemed to be targeted to no customer in particular. Pieces of barely treated wood planks lined the table, a crude leather strap the only thing distinguishing them from wood scrap. The shelves were lined with equally useless items, from poorly-sewn wool hats and worn swords, to round wooden carvings and... Wow, okay. Did they really call a few sheets of strewn-together scrap metal 'armour'?

Roman let out a sigh.

He really lucked out with finding this knife, it seemed. And even that could hardly be considered a stroke of luck, since the craftsman's knife in his possession was still a cheap tool that could probably be found anywhere.

Either way, Roman had simply assumed that the Merchant ignored him because he wouldn't be able to steal anything of value. That thought quickly disappeared when Roman had finally found a door near the back of the room, no doubt leading to wherever the Merchant stored his valuable items. In plain sight, without a single thing guarding the door. Well, okay, the door was technically locked, but even the system was so mundane that it took all of fifteen seconds for Roman to enter the backrooms. Without a single protest from the Guildmaster.

Which led to his current dilemma.

And again, it was less of an actual dilemma, and more of a choice he'd rather not make. You see, contrary to his beliefs, the backrooms contained no more valuables than the storefront had been. Guildfront. Whatever they wanted to call it. Either way, all it took was a cursory glance into the storage room to see that the crates within the storage area were either empty, or partially filled with shoddily made clubs.

What did this have to do with his problem? Well, you see, Roman Torchwick had had enough of this by this point. His mark was still the merchant's guild, so they had to have something valuable. So how would he steal it? Unfortunately, he only had two proper choices: The first was to simply waste hours combing through the storage area, checking each and every shelf or crate in an effort to find something more valuable than a freaking raincoat. The second choice? He could just ask.

That thought filled Roman with... Not quite disgust, but rather, that feeling you get when you just want to kick something until it starts making sense. Why was he fuelled with this emotion? Why, because he was absolutely certain that the Guildmaster would agree to it, of course. This was bizarro world, after all, and the Guildmaster had proven himself to be on the same intellectual level as a brat like Red.

Which was stupid. So utterly stupid that Roman was tempted to choose to do neither, and simply return to the shop instead.

...Okay. Maybe he should call it a day, since his mind apparently thought that tolerating the company of that annoying tooth fairy was a better alternative to stealing from some idea. Was he just tired now? Roman let out an exhausted sigh, pushing that little thought out of his mind as he brought his gloved hand upwards, readjusting his bowler hat before slipping out of the storage room. Well, if he really was tired, the best thing to do would be to get someone else to do all the heavy lifting. With those thoughts in mind, Roman made his way back towards the front of the room, slowly approaching the two yapping morons who were still at the counter. And were still yapping at each other..

"...how I made my first weapon!" Red seemed completely oblivious to his sudden arrival, as did the guildmaster, both wearing ridiculously annoying smiles as they continued chatting with one another about... whatever it was these idiots talked about. "How about you? Did you ever make things?"

That slight pause was more than enough for Roman to slip into the conversation, clearing his throat as he settled his eyes onto the Beacon brat.

"Hey Red, you mind shutting up for a second? The grown-ups need to have a little talk." Torchwick gave a non-committal gesture towards the Guildmaster, then back to himself, his gloved hand lazily waving in the air. Well, not lazily, but his motions were still quite slow, plenty of deliberate and exaggerated movements to match the mocking tone in his voice.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough for little red riding hood to listen. Instead, she gave an indignant pout, her arms crossed as she glared up at Roman. Well, the glare could hardly be called a glare, since Roman felt no malice from it. Or any sort of ill intent, really. If anything, she just seemed to be squinting her eyes or something stupid like that, holding on to that ridiculous look for a few moments before finally speaking out.

"What?! But I'm a grown-up too, aren't I?"

"No. No, you really aren't." Roman Torchwick was not amused. He gave the girl a deadpan stare, his shoulders slacking, having absolutely no desire to take her seriously. At least, no more than he did with Cinder's group of children. Which, in case you were wondering, was 'not seriously at all'. "In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were some brat in grade school, given how annoying you are."

Okay, now she was giving him a glare. Not that it was particularly effective, mind you; Roman was already used to Neo and Cinder's angry little tantrums. Red had nothing on them. Heck, the expression she was wearing barely seemed more threatening than the braindead look of her stupid dog. Quite an achievement, really, and one that should be commended.

"Actually, you know what, Red? I take it back."

This seemed to draw out some confusion from the huntress-wannabe, the childish scowl on her face shifting into one of curiosity. That moment of blank incomprehension was all Roman Torchwick was looking for, wasting no time as he capitalized on it, quickly elaborating his viewpoint. "It's not because of how annoying you are that I think you're a brat. It's because of how short you are."

"...Hey! You take that back!"

And now, the glare's devolved into a pout. At least she pointed another angry finger at him, not that it meant anything. Really, she was only proving his point by acting out like this. Then again, he didn't really care how she reacted, shrugging the rest of her tantrum aside as he changed his expression, putting on a more professional tone as he turned his attention towards the Merchant Guildmaster.

"Now, about that discussion..."

The Merchant Guildmaster who was now wearing a ridiculous grin. Again, Roman's was reminded of how silly people in this world were. His usual business contacts never wore their emotions on their sleeve like this, always opting for more covert, controlled body language. Not that it was a problem or anything, since the Rogue could deal with both manners of communication... But still. What sort of business negotiation starts with a stupid smile?

Well, he might as well fake one. Roman put on a smile of his own, a formal mask filled with absolutely no sincerity, as he turned his attention fully to the bearded merchant. Even his tone was sickeningly polite, the same airs he used for dealing with those annoying political morons. "Is something the matter, Guildmaster?"

Granted, the man wasn't a political moron, so maybe Roman didn't need to-

"Ho ho! Not at all. I'm just surprised, Mr. Torchwick; I didn't think you and this young lady were such close friends." The idiot chuckled, completely sincere in his completely incorrect assessment. "Sure, I might've had a few doubts about you before, but after seeing how friendly you two are with each other? I'm glad to know that someone like you is helping out Recette."

Roman's smile cracked for a fraction of a second, the lower part of his left eye twitching as he processed the merchant's words.

Great. He wasn't a political moron at all. Just a normal one.

Despite the Guildmaster's blatant mental deficiencies, Roman Torchwick was eventually able to convince the man to show him some of the more valuable goods he had in stock. Not only that, but the merchant had even explained to Roman why he had chosen to keep those items locked away in the first place. He had apparently missed it in the initial conversation given to Tinkerbell and the brat, but apparently, the guild only acts as a supplier for shopkeeper.

As a result, they kept the more expensive items locked away, until they had confidence that the local stores could sell the items. And considering the fact that the only shop in this stupid town belonged to little miss diabetes, the Rogue could understand why they stashed away all but the most useless items.

That wasn't to say that he was given access to the more exotic goods, either. The stuff he had been shown were little more than token improvements compared to the things he had seen in the front of the store, small-time change that just so happened to be more valuable than garbage. And considering how few were actually in stock, Roman couldn't exactly swipe them the same way he appropriated his new pocket knife.

Still, he did wonder where the most valuable items were being held. The only question was, what sort of cover could he use to justify asking? It'd be a bit weird to just ask about valuable jewelry, especially since people... seemed to ignore it in the first place, actually. And there was no real equivalent to dust, either. So what sort of things could he talk about that relied heavily on quality, yet didn't seem out of place?

Oh, right, of course.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have any better weapons and armour, would you?"

He had completely forgotten about the suicidal adventurer demographic. And since the little merchant had decided to make friends with that seedy looking swordsman guy, Roman had a legitimate reason for bringing it up. There was no way he wouldn't exploit that little bit of information. "Our little shopkeep has made a new friend, and he's the adventuring kind of guy, you know? She'd be crushed if something happened to him."

"Is that so?"

Roman's face was filled with false sincerity, serious yet fabricated, masking his internal grin as he heard the Guildmaster's voice. The worry and concern on the merchant's face was impossible to miss, and he could clearly see the man's expression as the bearded merchant seriously considered his statement. There was a slight pause, silence lingering only for a moment, before the other man gave his response.

"Unfortunately, we don't keep inventory on the more exotic items here."

Wait, what? That little admission annoyed the rogue, considering the fact that they were the damned suppliers. If they didn't have the items readily stored away somewhere, then what was the point of them? Was this related to their ridiculous system of gauging sales competency with that arbitrary 'merchant level' thing? Either way, he had to ask.

"Wait, why not?" Or, you know, Red could ask. Complete with her ignorant, wide-eyed expression. Part of him wondered if she even understood the discussion. Sure, it was stupidly simple, but he wasn't joking in the slightest when he noted the similarities between her and a grade schooler. Really, anyone whose life goals were to be a huntsman must've had a few screws loose or something.

Or was horribly naive.

Roman allowed that thought to linger for a single second. Not a moment more.

His attention quickly returned to the Guildmaster, looking expectantly for his answer. Considering what he had been told already, with the whole tiered inventory and sales competency grading in the form of the "merchant level" system, Roman had a rough idea of the reason. Still, that just means they had to keep the items stored away, right?

"Well... As I'm sure you've noticed, the merchant's guild isn't exactly bustling here in Pensee. With so few merchants, we decided it would be better to save on space and maintenance by only having the more common items in stock."

Yeah, that was about what he expected. Still, it was disappointing to get confirmation that this particular business venture was a failure. Not only that, but now that he knew about the tiered inventory system they had in place, it was clear to Roman that the guild's suppliers may not necessarily be local. That piece of information was a quick way to stop plan B.

Well, no. It'd probably slow it down, but knowing the name of suppliers would still be beneficial to his future plans.

"Huh. You don't say." Roman gave a thoughtful tilt of his head, making a show of mentally weighing his options, a bit of truth mixed in with his facade as he shifted his gaze to a nearby shelf. "In that case, you wouldn't happen to know anyone who can make stuff like that, would you? For... Recette's friend, of course."

That last part was forced. As much as he preferred calling her by her title of sickeningly chipper brat, he was conducting business at the moment. Still, he'd have to find a better way to refer to the kid. Preferably one that didn't make him want to vomit.

"Actually..."

The Guildmaster's voice snapped Roman out from his thoughts. Once more, the bearded man wore a thoughtful expression on his face, his gaze tracing Roman's, as it settled on the shelf that the orange-haired crook was looking at. A shelf filled with... monster bits? Huh.

"You know, Mr. Torchwick, I don't normally do this. But I can tell you're a good man-" Hah. "-so I believe I can make an exception this time."

Horribly incorrect statement aside, the merchant's words was intriguing. Roman raised a single brow, a look of genuine curiosity on his face as he shifted his gaze back to the Guildmaster. What exactly was he talking about?

"Tell me... Have you ever heard of 'Item Synthesis' before?"