Volume CRBN!

by Dancesnapple

Four individuals. Four different people of different walks of life resulting in an adventure. Hopefully, a bond that can last. Team CRBN (carbon). Features: OC Main character, main team has two OCs alongside a lovable crime duo, and some family drama on all sides. Features a 'soundtrack' element for the fic. ENJOY! Story begins on third listed chapter. Very slow start.

14. 12 Three Times the Power

Chapter Twelve: Three Times the Power

Daylight pours into the bedroom, lighting the desk littered with comic books. The top issue was loud with its colors, the bright title 'AVATAR!' upon it. By the stack of comics sits an assortment of papers haphazardly placed in a stack simply labeled 'Homework' with signed tape.

A loud sigh rings through the room as the boy steps towards the door. Perhaps an inch or two taller, his hair is noticeably longer. The silver tipped locks dip past his eyes now, his hair lazily hand combed forward to one side. Carmine stretches out, reaching and grabbing his one sleeved jacket. Putting it on, he quickly zips it up, then glances at his holstered gun on the corner table.

Glaring at the weapon for a moment, he calls upon his aura...

In a green-blue flicker, the weapon disappears from the table, appearing latched onto his left thigh. His eyes then trail to the collection of metal pieces stacked neatly beside the same corner table. Closing his eyes, Carmine raises his left arm to his right shoulder.

Word association. The violet haired woman's advise had rung true, despite how long it's been.

"Zero." He swings his left arm out as his aura calls. The metal pieces of Buster Armor flicker and disappear in the same flash of green-blue aura. The pieces appear in place, forming the metal plating and left sleeve of his armor's default form. Mode Zero as he calls it. With a final sigh, he gives the sleeve a once-over before leaving the room.

. . .

Carmine Uhlric

Age – 13

Five years til The Day

One year and four months since Blair's expulsion

"What's your opinion of this years First Years?" The rapid question flew through the lips of the fast talking professor. Oobleck sits behind his office desk, zooming through papers at a comedic pace and grading.

Once again, Carmine sat on a chair close to the room's single window. His blue orbs gazed beyond the structures borders, to the greater world. Although, his brows scrunched at the query. "Hm... They're alright? Am I supposed to notice something?"

The long, spiky haired man hums. "Just seeing how much you're using your observational skills, my boy! Have you no curiosity into the new students? They are, for lack of other substitutes, your contemporaries." In just that time, he flew through two essays, highlighting sections and notarizing comments and criticisms. How the hell does this man function?

The boy rolls his eyes, leaning further into the chair. "I haven't exactly found it in me to care too much." After a second of silence, he spares a glance towards the professor, immediately regretting it as he receives a pointed stare. "Why should I care about other students? Should I make a game of whether they'll be kicked out too?"

At the snide comment, Oobleck sighs. "It's been well over a year. You know what Blair did. It was made aware to many students and professors. A cautionary tale. What happened with her had little to do with you."

That made the boy laugh, deep and hearty. "HA! Come on? Seriously?" The kid shakes his head towards the man. "Me being a kid was the only thing that tipped her over the line, but I think I should be the one to decide if I was a victim or some other bull crap!"

No... Blair was expelled because he got her discovered. If he had been anyone else, anyone in the world, Ozpin wouldn't have looked twice. And that's the problem. Here? In this world? Ozpin looks over everything involving the boy, so why the hell should he bother meeting new people?

"You really were taken to her, I see." Oobleck adds, a rare tone of sorrow. However, the pause is short lived, returning to rapidly gunning through his grading. "Well, I surely hope you've made an effort with the children of Vale."

Carmine's brow rose, bobbing his head. "Totally. Yep. Totally... Just being all 'ballin' with the boys." Spoken with all the hipness of a middle aged man pretending he's half his age. Oobleck's gaze snaps back on him, unimpressed. The redhead purses his lips to a fine line. "What?"

"You're not getting into any trouble in Vale, are you?"

The direct question makes him turn away. Truly, he'd taken his father's advice over the last year, taking any time he could to leave Beacon's grounds and venture into Vale. However, the reasons for this did not line up with the old man's intentions. Where Ozpin merely wanted Carmine to interact with people his own age and explore, Carmine wanted nothing more than to put space between himself and Ozpin.

Of course, that relationship has gotten soured. Outside of weekly training sessions, the two rarely converse anymore. That's not Carmine's fault. Why would it be? How could he continue reaching out to a man who decides himself when to be a father and when to be the ever vigilant headmaster?

So, he spent his time in Vale. Where his exploits could be more private. Also where he could see a random pick pocket, see red, and chase the bastard four blocks... On more than one occasion, the Vale police have brought the boy back to Beacon for 'needlessly interfering' with their policing. Pompous asses.

Okay, so Oobleck's question was a valid one. The boy scratches his head nervous. "Nothing big has happened lately. A couple babies with sticky fingers at the arcade is the worst I've seen myself." Not gonna bring up swiping anything said 'babies' grabbed and placing it back where they got it. Seriously, some god damn manners goes a long way.

"Ah yes. The docks side of town is much more dark as of late. Never a good sign where downtown was tame." The professor stares off, commenting mostly to himself. His gaze then zeroes on the boy. "I advise against seeking such action out."

"Duly noted." The redhead gives a mocking salute. All the while, he mentally notes to himself to check out the docks later. "But isn't crime pretty much constant? Something put a memo to all criminals to not go be stupid?"

"Vale's criminal rates typically ramp up in the months leading to the Vytal festival. In the festive Kingdom, criminals try to get what they can so they can hunker down while multiple kingdoms' worth of hunters come."

"But the Vytal festival is in Mistral this year. Right?" The boy cocks his head, thinking back about it. Yeah. It's in Mistral- wait... "So... if the kingdom with the festival gets good coverage, then the other three-"

"Experience a spike in criminal activity, yes." Oobleck finishes. "Those around here are likely waiting for their chance once more Beacon's students and various faculty vacate the city."

"Right..." Carmine lamely agrees. His eyes trail to the ceiling. He pulls a grimace, slightly disturbed. "You'd think more members of the police would be capable of doing something to stop crime."

That pulls Oobleck's attention from the papers, tilting his head up in thought. "If I recall correctly, your father was a Chief Inspector himself." He notices a dark look flick across the boy's eyes. Quickly, he moves on from the topic. "It's true that there are occupants in many types of jobs that have prior Hunter training. However, given Huntsman and Huntress injury and fatality rates, very few that quit active Hunter status wind up in another field that also holds physical threat."

Huh. He hadn't pictured it that way before. Carmine's face scrunches in thought. That made Jared a rather unique example then. Guess it IS a little unfair to put random cops to his standard then. Of course, it didn't take much to think why Jared would settle down as a cop. "Dad became a cop to protect Sanctuary because that's where Mom settled to work... That makes sense. Never thought of it that way."

A ding catches his attention, both himself and the professor glancing at a clock on his desk. 11:30. Carmine mutters out. "Well, damn."

Oobleck's work disappears in a blur of movement, suddenly contained within a folder. "Ah, lunch time. That's my free period, I'm afraid." He then fixes Carmine with a pointed look. "Your ventures into the city are doing wonders for your language, I see."

The boy's face lights up, realizing his curse slip. "S-sorry, sir."

"Alright, I need to be off then." The man declares.

Carmine swings his legs around, standing tall with his right hand already in his pocket. "Right! I'mma eat in Vale, actually. New shop with Eighteen inch grinders." He smiles, already feeling ready to gorge himself. "Eighteen inch Chicken Bacon Ranch- Nnf!" He bobs on his heels with the exclamation.

Oobleck simply nods at the declaration. "Yes, yes. On with your day, Carmine! Oh!" He halts, tilting his head. "Professor Ozpin wanted to know if you've finished your Vacuan studies."

The redhead rolls his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, yeah. I'll return the textbooks later today." Upon hearing the silver haired headmaster's name, the boy's posture and demeanor shifts instantly as he leaves the room.

. . .

The boy strolled his way along the sidewalk. Cars zip on by, the streets full of various citizens, all ages, a few Faunus here and there. Carmine's shoulders hunch ever slightly as he glanced around. His nerves run high, for the obvious reason.

People... Yeah, he's duty bound to help them, care for them, and defend them. Yet, each and every one can be that one problem of a hundred. Trust is quite rare.

He makes a turn, finding a straight away directly towards the oceanfront. He pauses as his stomach growls. Pivoting around, the boy moves in the opposite direction. Food first. Foolishly hound around for bad people second. A moment later, he enters Bella's Grinders & Pizzeria. Just the wave of smells hitting his nostrils brings a warm grin on him, completely soothed.

The lunch rush runs hot, so he quickly places his order and moves to the only empty table. Being a weekday, he notices a number of students from Signal and Beacon both entering, having left their respective schools for lunch. Simply seeing the students arriving in groups was a gentle reminder.

Combat School. He had one month to decide if he was going to take Signal up on its offer.

Gah! He didn't know... It certainly would allow some freedom from the old man, but... it's pointless. He'll be at Beacon in four more years finally as a freshman, so why bother? It certainly had nothing to do with interacting with classmates. Not at all. They were inconsequential. Completely pointless.

… God he's a coward.

He slinks calmly back in the chair, watching the television in the corner. The news was on, muted of course. A middle aged woman with her first signs of wrinkles spoke swiftly among the topics. However, he caught a rather specific headline...

'Kidnappings skyrocket! Twelve missing children in two weeks!'

And that's not even counting however many dozen street rats must be disappearing... Wait... Carmine thinks back, recalling not seeing a single homeless person not at least in his 20s in weeks.

He shakes himself, clearing the thought train away. "No, that's stupid. Can't be that many." Still... he glances back at the screen, seeing a slideshow of pictures of the missing children. The youngest was four years old, the eldest was sixteen!

Carmine's eye twitches, blood heating at the sight. Blood heating all around... blood on the ground. Two dead Faunus men next to a human with ripped stab wounds across his chest-

A plate taps onto the table, a barista bringing him his sandwich. He flinches at the sound, having not seeing her approach with his food and drink. "A-ah, thank you..." He mutters as she walks away.

Upon being left alone, his gaze flicks back to the television, now on a news segment on an upcoming election poll. Seeing the subject change lets him relax a bit, beginning to eat his b~EAUTIFUL foot and a half grinder.

Stuffing his face, he barely registers new group sitting in the booth behind him. Two girls and a boy. All wore civilian clothing, nothing like the students from the Combat school or Academy. Traditional school down the street kids, significantly older by the look of them.

Carmine munches down absentminded, the group behind sparing a glance at the same television. The boy scoffs. "Damn cops haven't said anything about Ronson. It's freaking stupid. How hard can it be to find a sloth Faunus?"

The redhead raises a brow, swallowing another bite. It's rude to eavesdrop. He should stop. Just focus on the cheesy layer caked around the bacon-

"He'll turn up. He has to, right?" One girl, a brunette, speaks up. "He hasn't been gone that long. Maybe he went out with Sammie for the week."

"Didn't the news say he was reported missing Tuesday two weeks ago? He's never skipped out on more than two days in a row before..." The other girl, a blonde, responds.

The black haired boy cuts in. "Exactly... the cops aren't doing their job. People have been disappearing for weeks!"

"Mikey... I'm sure everyone's working hard to find him. The Hunters-" The brunette is cut off as the boy cuts over again.

"The cops only started looking after he was gone 48 hours. The stupid Hunters only look into it if the cops can't do it or someone pays for a job." He rattles off his facts, more and more anger showing. "So basically, he's fucked if it's anything serious."

Carmine fits the end of the sandwich in his mouth crunching it down. It's under control. The police have the information, and the Hunters will handle it. Oobleck's warning rings in his head. Just stay out of trouble. Maybe mention it to Father-.

Carmine's empty drink glass taps down onto the three teens' table, catching all their attention. The redhead breaths in relief. "Where was he taken from and when?"

Why did he do things?

"Uh, kid, I don't know who you are, but-" The boy starts, but Carmine's raises his left armored arm, cutting him off. They looked almost like adults. If he had to guess, same age as some of the Second Years at Beacon.

"My name is Carmine. I'm a Huntsman-in-training, and I want to help." Carmine interrupts, draping his hand down to tap Heulin Noon's grip.

"You're a little short to be a Huntsman-in-training." The boy comments rudely, getting swat in the side by the blonde girl.

'And you're too much of a prick for a civilian' the redhead stops himself from saying back. The brunette turns from the other two, giving Carmine a hesitant once over. "Um, no offense, but it's weird with how young you are. Sorry."

The redhead's eye twitches, but then he channels that irritation into a fake grin. "Best case scenario is I find your friend. Worst case is I report it directly to my professors who are also Huntsman. What can you lose?" After a moment, he sees that the three come to some type of nonverbal agreement, nodding.

The blonde turns to him, speaking first. "His family lives in the docks district, where things have been pretty crazy for a while."

Convenient. He was going there regardless. Carmine nods. "Go on."

. . .

"Ronson is a sloth Faunus, and he's my cousin. He and his mom live on Locke Avenue, by the docks, at the General Hills apartment complex, room 214 B." The boy's voice rings in the back of Carmine's mind.

Carmine marches along the road, eyes firmly on the waters in the distance. Various ships come and go at the harbor in the distance. A few air ships dropped down at the docks, Schnee Dust Company shipments if he had to guess. Vacuo and Menagerie trade typically go by water, while Atlas and Mistral trade go by air.

The residential buildings and complexes vary in quality. Downtown and on Beacon's side of town, it's pretty upscale. Here, on the other hand, was pretty hit and miss. One place would look like a beautiful beach side resort! Another would look less like an apartment complex, and more like a place for homeless addicts to shoot up their last food money's worth...

He finds the beginning of Locke Avenue. Surprisingly, it wasn't a run down part of the neighborhood. Fairly middle of the road. So, not full stereotype.

"He was left home alone, and his mother came home to the front door being open. He was gone. His mother said their neighbor saw everything, but I didn't catch what was said." The voice of the blonde rung out in his mind.

Carmine draws out his scroll, pulling out the screen as the online police report shows. A picture of a tan boy with sand colored hair and hazel eyes. Age was sixteen, the oldest of all the current missing children. His height was six foot two inches. Bit of a pudgy build.

The report read that he disappeared without any witnesses. Carmine's brow rose. If the kids thought there was a witness, why did the police report say otherwise?

There it is: General Hills Apartments. The tan building had multiple levels to it with wooden stairways to upper floors and upper apartments.

The boy quickly scales to the second floor, walking along the doors. 212 C, 213 A, 213 B, 214 A, Aha! He stops before a rust red door labeled 214 B. Hesitantly, he knocks on the door.

He hears movement inside, but nothing comes too quickly. He bobs his head lightly back and forth, then blows a long breath out loudly. Lightly, he begins swinging his arms forward and back, idly. More movement sounds as he can hear the door vibrate. Finally, the locks come undone and the door opens.

A tan woman with brown hair, somewhat graying, answers the door. Her eyes widen as she blinks in surprise. Her arms are slightly lankier than one would think arms should be. Oh, right! Sloth Faunus. "Hello? May I help you?"

Come on, Carmine, buddy ole pal. The boy thinks back on all the ride-a-longs he'd had as a child with Jared, watching him work. He coughs, composing himself and somewhat failing. "H-hi there. S-sorry for bothering you miss..."

She tilts her head, giving him a stink eye look. "Dawn."

"Miss Dawn." He stops to cough. "My name is Carmine, and I'm a Huntsman-in-training. I... wanted to talk to you about your son's disappearance?" His request ended up sound like an unsure question.

The woman's eyes widen. They're red and bloodshot. She hasn't been sleeping well, that's for sure. "Oh? Those bastard cops finally just give up? The Huntsmen are too busy, so they send a child?! I've already told you everything!"

Carmine raises his hands in surrender, trying what he hopes is a comforting gaze. "Ma'am! I spoke with Mikey? Your nephew, correct?" Upon seeing recognition in her eyes he eases forward. "I know it can be painful... going over it all again, but-" He pauses, trying hard to think his words carefully.

He's not a good liar, to best to tell an... altered truth. "-Follow ups are necessary, to ask to go over things from the top. Traumatic events can make people emotional and miss out on details, but hearing the same story on multiple tells lets us know what's likely true-" He sees her eyes widen, fury building. "-what's likely reliable." He quickly amends with slightly panicked eyes.

She holds the stare for a moment, narrowing her gaze. "And why not send a real Huntsman?"

"I'm just getting the information, Ma'am." He gives an uneasy smile. "Please, I wanna help."

Her glare holds just a moment, giving way. With a sigh, she shakes her head and waves for him to enter. He nods and steps into the apartment. It's ratty, each piece of furniture looking well worn out and aged. The gray, stained carpet leads to a small dining room table. The wood is scratched, but clean. Although, the table top is littered with mail, papers, an odd couple plates.

A lamp in the room begins to flicker, as do the lights on the kitchen appliances. Power flickers before settling back on. Dawn huffs, trying to get angry, but barely managing a bristle. "Freaking power company won't fix anything. I don't know what caused it.

Carmine nods along, but doesn't have a verbal answer to give as he stands awkwardly. He sees the empty seats at the table, gesturing to them. "Um... might be a while-" She waves him off, giving a tired sigh.

He sits down at the table, next to the end, as the woman sits down at the table's head, beside him. She takes a deep breath before looking at him, her eyes hollow. "Which part are you wanting first?"

Carmine purses his lips, nerves heating himself up. He coughs nervously, but nods. His fingers wring each other to occupy his limbs under the table. "Um... Can you start from the beginning? For you, obviously. Everything that day before the incident."

So she went. Dawn had woken up to go about getting her son to school, a civilian academy across town. She'd ordinarily work a day shift while her son was at school, but that day she'd had to switch shifts at her cashier job. She was a cashier at a casino, fairly decent pay, but when ordered to change shifts there was little pull.

Further into the day, she'd picked her son up from school, bringing him home. He enjoyed playing ball with other kids in the neighborhood, but it was cloudy that day. He hates that kind of weather, and would stay in. The last time they'd left their home alone in the evening, there were signs of an attempted break in, some street rats chased away by their neighbor, an elderly man named Cyrus.

So, she'd told her son to stay home, keep the doors locked. Dawn also checked in with Cyrus to help keep an eye out. This was around five in the evening when she left her home.

"... and so I was at work until I received a phone call... around 9:15. I was about to take my lunch when Officer Mitch called. They'd just checked the scene at my home and urged me to come immediately." A shuddering breath escapes her as she rubs at her eyes, finishing. "Cyrus saw a man enter our home and leave the area-"

"Wait." Carmine jolts up, tilting his head. She flinches at his sudden interruption. "Wai-wait wait." He holds a finger up, gazing down at his scroll back at the public information on the event. "So, Cyrus SAW the kidnapping?"

She tries to shrug and nod, but her face just shows down. "He says so, but apparently the power went out in the neighborhood and it was getting dark." She crosses her arms, taking a huff of air before one hand comes up, shielding his view of her face.

It's when he hears a light sniffle that he starts to see red. Anger always helps him push past his nerves. Best to use it. His eyes narrow down at the report. A missing person report like this is filed when a person disappears, possibly of their own running away. He learned that from a textbook about urban tracking for urban hunting jobs.

But when it's directly reported that the person was taken, potentially by force?! Where the actual hell is that in the report. He glances back up to the woman. Attempting to reign in his anger, he frowns in what he hopes conveys understanding.

She glances at him, and he sees tears threatening to fall. "Don't just tell me it'll be okay. I need my baby back." Her shoulders shudder as her breath chokes.

Before she can go on, Carmine lets out a sigh, hoping the sound could get her attention. "Ya know, I was actually a victim of this type of kidnapping." He pauses, clenching his eyes and shaking his head. "Actually... my mother was killed by my kidnappers."

The woman's wet eyes locked on him, widening. "Wh-... what?"

"I can bet I know exactly how your son feels." Carmine narrows his gaze, frustration showing. "Scared, confused... That alone, I have a very good idea how your son must feel." He gazes up and meets her eyes, a fire lit in his own blue orbs. "I was rescued from my kidnappers by two Hunters... They fought tooth and nail for me."

Unsure, an uncomfortable weight settles on him, but he tries to lean in, hoping to show he's here. "I want him to have that in common with me too... I going to do what I can and get the information to others. I promise." She simple stares back at him, watered down eyes against a deep determined blue. Something about the boy. Like in one second, he'd mentally aged to a whole different demeanor. With a goal.

Carmine pulls away, eyes dropping before lifting towards the door. "Do you know if Mr Cyrus is home?"

"Y-yeah. He should be." Dawn slowly composes herself.

. . .

"I told em!" A loud, hateful voice booms, nasally and as crotchety as the most elderly of men. And that's exactly what it was. Thick, round glasses completely obscuring the eyes surrounded by warted crusty milk white skin.

The man had a hunch, sitting in a freaking rocking chair in his living room. Fluffy shoulder length gray hair flaps with each rock forward and back. His clothes were worn with age, simply gray and browns.

Carmine sat across from him, sitting on a chair BESIDE the television, which was muted for some unknown reason. Why wouldn't it at least be angled- whatever. The carpet was brown, walls a faded green. The walls were littered with pictures of places and individuals.

Suddenly, the power kicked, the television flickering. The power flick was audible this time, getting a frown from Carmine. "Power isn't very reliable."

"The cops told me it was fine! I told them nothin' was fine!" Cyrus exclaimed. He groans, letting out the guttural noise and shaking his old head. Despite being bald on top, the large amount hair on the sides waved through the air with the heated movement. "It was a tragedy!"

"H-hold up. Please?" Carmine tries to cut in, using his hands in a time out signal. "Tuesday. Twelve days ago. Five pm. Can you please start there?"

"Ronson was a good one. Good head on his shoulders. Outta known the world would be cruel to 'em!" The man shakes his head while rocking in the chair just a bit too actively to look right.

"Mr Cyrus!" Carmine tries a little forcefully, irritation getting through.

"EH?!" The man hacked out. His mouth began smacking opening and shut, moistening the opening and making Carmine want to vomit everything he's ever had.

"That night? From the top? Please?" He cringed the the elderly man finally nodded, looking off wistfully. Carmine couldn't help muttering under his breath about the man possibly having Alzheimer's.

Cyrus drones his tale, of watching black and white dramas on the 'telly'. He'd been enraptured in the joys of I Love Lani, about the 'classic' episode of the title character becoming an attorney to help her friend and-

Honestly, Carmine just began tuning him out as the crusty elder rambled about his entire day that day. Finally, he'd finished a diatribe on yet another overplayed classic as the man huffs angrily. "And then the power shut off! Just like that, for the first time in four years, can ya believe?"

First in four years? The power's flickered five times while listening to the guy talk. Rather than comment and get sidetracked, he lets the story continue.

"Some commotion went on outside, like a crunch!" The elder man went on. "The power was gone. Musta been... just past 7 or 7:30."

And Dawn was contacted about her missing son at 9:15 by the cops. Likely took a bit for the cops to get a story together. They likely arrived on the scene by 8:45 or 9.

"Herb o'er on the third floor started checkin' in on everyone. Nice boy, told us all to hunker down what with the storm rolling in that night. Keep our doors locked. Light up with candles and whatnot!"

But the front door was found unlocked according to Mikey. Carmine raises a brow at the info. Another contradiction. If Ronson was well off on his own, only ever skipping out with friends, why would he leave the door unlocked with both his mother's and other occupant warnings?

Carmine takes notes on a messenger app on his scroll, sending the notes back to himself for convenience. "We all got quiet, took to ourselves. Decided to read in the candlelight, but there was a ruckus going on through the walls! It was something I've never heard before. High pitched ring or scrapin'? Thought it was my Tinnitus at first, but I could swear I heard Ronnie boy at some point."

High pitch scraping and ringing. Ronson made noise, but unconfirmed.

"I got up and out. Took a minute cause the sounds all went away except that damned ringin'. I open the door and look to Dawn and Ronnie's door and see some business looking fella. Just standing at their door holding the knob."

Carmine stops taking notes, locking his gaze on the man.

"The ringing noise just went away. Demanded to know what the fella was up to, but the rude bastard just snickered and waved, heading on his way. He left out the front parking lot out in the rain. I thought little of it. Went to check on Ronnie, but the door was left open! He wasn't there!"

The redhead's gaze narrows to a glare. The man was likely trying to lock the door, but making a strange noise? But Ronson was already taken from the apartment.

"Then that ringing started again! Much more higher pitched this time, like an echo!" Cyrus grouched out. "And boom, the power's back on. I call the cops, but it wouldn't stay connected. Hour later, finally a cop car arrives, and this wet behind the ears brat Officer takes a report of everything."

Carmine's scowl deepened. So, power goes out. Kidnapping occurs. Man is noticed after the fact, but nothing solid. Power comes back, but is unreliable until help arrives too late.

The similarities to his own experience isn't lost on him, but some things still stick out. The boy starts. "You told all of this to the cop, yes? Officer Mitch?"

"Mitch. Murphy. Whatever it was. Yes! I told em' everything. He barely acted like he cared! I feel like he just brushed me off!"

That boiled something inside the teen. His fists clenched as he glanced down at his scroll. A few taps back to the police report. Ronson was reported missing. No other information. Cyrus was definitely blown off by the cop. He glances back to the elder. "The man you saw at their door. Can you describe him? Had you ever seen him before?"

"Nope. Never saw him before in my life. And believe me, I'd remember. Pretty boy type." Cyrus grimaced, almost disgusted. "Wore an expensive looking black suit, had long green hair and orange eyes. Kinda hard to forget that kind of face."

Carmine nods, taking down the description real quick. "Was there anything else about him that could identify him?"

Cyrus tilts his head, just a touch too much to look natural. He huffs a breath before gesturing to his left collar bone. "His lapel. There was a metal pin. Looked like some gang sign. A skull with a third eye socket."

. . .

Leaving the apartment complex, Carmine's set with a confused scowl. "We have a witness noticing a strange man, possible suspect, and power outages indicating coordination?" He stops on the side walk in front of the complex, hands set to his hips.

An electric spark zaps atop the nearest power pole. He snaps his gaze to the top, at the transformer. It looked... slightly bent. Warped. In fact...

Carmine sways and leans to a slight angle, eyeing the entire pole. "The hell? Did someone wreck into the pole?" Sure enough, the pole was ever slightly tilted as well. A slow bend up half way up the pole.

His eyes widen a bit. Some poles and traffic stops have cameras... Surely, the cops already checked, but there could be one right up there. Leaning around and walking about, he sees what looks like a thick black dome cover, barely any bigger than a baseball. That it?

The redhead takes a second to glance around. No one nearby.

Sure he was alone, the boy closes his eyes. His aura reaches out, calling to the armor around his chest and arm. He feels the response, taking a deep breath. Word association... "Jager!" In brief flickering light, the armor around him flashes.

A faded outline of the armor shifts from his arm and chest, flashing down to his calves. The sleek and slim plates form into armored pant legs, coating the shins up until just under the knees. All in all, outside being a cool gray against the black and blue striped pants, the armor would pass as baggy pant legs from a distant glance.

Carmine breaths out, smirking in satisfaction. "Getting easier." He glances up to the top of the pole. With a shake, vents open up on the inside and outside sides of the leg plating. Infused with fire and wind dust inside the armor, Carmine leaps high, the vents firing a small thrust to propel him higher.

The boy leaps up high, legs kicking to stabilize himself, as he lands atop the pole. The entire power pole creaks and shifts on his landing, getting a startled wide eyed look from the boy, freezing.

"Whoa..." He steadies himself, lowering slowly to a sitting position by the transformer. Angling himself around, he gets to the black dome cover, inspecting it. Carefully manipulating it, he pops the cover, his face lighting up. "Aha! Surveillance!" He exclaims looking at the now uncovered camera.

Checking the angle, it's aimed at the entrance to the parking plaza, covering the greater length of the road as well.

Suddenly, Carmine's smirk pulls to a tight line. "Hmm... Now what..." Pulling out his scroll, he checks the connecting ports for the mobile device. He then manipulates the camera, removing it from its placement. Pulling out, he finds several connecting wires feeding through the power pole.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh..." Carmine starts at it, all things going over his head. He quickly coughs, composing himself. "Alright... just gotta figure out the right port to connect my scroll to the recorder..." Surely, the wires are safe for handling?

ZZZZZZAP!

"YYYYYOWWWWW!" He yelps out, painfully. The boy's left gasping for air with wide eyes. A pained dry groan escapes him, speaking in a hoarse voice. "Oh pain..."

Over the next half hour, the boy sat atop the pole, tinkering and fiddling with the components in an attempt to make something work. Each minute was punctuated with various yelps and grunts of pain. Eventually, the call outs become garbled curse words.

"GAH! That was Frrrkin Brrshtt!" He growls out, scowling heated at the device.

The device beeps, showing a proper connection. The sound makes the boy pause, then glow with glee. Fist pumping, he nearly makes himself fall, catching himself barely. He checks around, blushing in embarrassment.

Sighing out, he finally takes in the feed from the device. "Alright, now... how far back... does this go..." Scrolling by the hour, he quickly goes back one day, two, three, five, eight, HA! Wait, wait, too far back!

He scrolls forward, finding the recording going back up to three weeks. Perfectly usable. Scrolling to twelve days ago, he finds the times on Tuesday. "Al...right?"

The angle is off. The camera feed's angle perfectly captures the road and about half the parking lot. The feed cuts out at 7:23, reconnecting at 7:55...

19:20. The feed shows a clear street, rainfall already begun. It's dark. Storm's begun. A van pulls into the parking lot, the side sliding open. The feed is black and white, night mode.

A man exits the side of the van, letting the vehicle continue into the lot to park. It's difficult to make out, but the man is definitely wearing all dark clothes, possibly a suit. The gray colored screen shows shoulder length hair, combed straight down the sides with one streak of the bangs splitting the face.

The man walks below the feed, towards the base of the pole. Out of sight. However, the camera's angle shifts, tilting sideways before static flicks and takes over the screen.

Carmine scowls. "Okay... I'm guess that's our guy... but he didn't have anything on him?"

19:55. Feed's static flicks away. The rain fall is harder, and the complex area is darker, many parts flickering in and out of power. The feed fills with static again, but comes back to find the van pulling from the parking lot.

The feed's angle is slanted, off, but slowly shifts. As if the camera is being righted. The movement ends, left at the imperfect angle it remains today... and the man from before walks out from the bottom of the feed. He swings around and enters the passenger side of the van.

When the vehicle opens, the inner light kicks on for just a second, showing lanky long limbs swinging inside. The van shakes, something going on inside, but the light kicking off obscures too much. And the vehicle leaves. Even a cursory glance shows no license plate.

"Well... If I was a betting guy..." Carmine scowls at the footage replay. "That's our vehicle, and the man Cyrus described was responsible for the power, but how did he manipulate the whole pole?"

Quickly disconnecting the connection to his scroll, Carmine sets about replacing the camera back on the pole fixture. The boy leaps from the top of the pole. The vents on his leg armor fire out the thruster, halting his descent. He tap lands on the ground smoothly, turning around to glance up the pole.

"Metal bending that much would leave all sorts of warping." He scowls up the length. He then runs his hand along the surface. Definitely bent, but smooth. Like it's been buffered out.

. . .

"Certain semblances offer different relationships when it comes to interaction with matter. For example, if a person's semblance is magnetism, they issue an outside force that manipulates an object. Understand?" Blair Goodwitch explains to the boy on the bench. Carmine watches her, enraptured.

"Y-yeah?" He drones. "Totally?"

The woman huffs. "I'll use my sister's semblance as an example then." She glances over to the campus fountain. "She uses telekinesis to manipulate an object in any way she sees fit. So, she fights as a caster."

With a gesture to the fountain, she continues. "If I were to smash that fountain, and she puts it back together. Would it function?"

Carmine tilts his head. "Well... no? It'd have a bunch of cracks through it. The water would just leak out."

She smirks at the answer. "Good. Just like the magnetism example, that would be an outside force simply stacking it back together. However, when Glynda uses her semblance, she can re bond the material together. Would you be able to figure why?"

His brow furrows. "Her... semblance acts on the inside?"

"Poorly worded, but yes." She nods. "Her aura infuses with the material and influences it at the molecular level. Not just simply moving back and forth." She points back to herself. "My semblance infuses with my target, thus I gain partial control from the inside as well." Finally, pointing to the branch. "And your semblance infuses into objects as well. So..."

. . .

Carmine scowls at the power pole. "A semblance that manipulates metal from the inside. Complete control." He crosses his arms, huffing. "That's... a problem."

. . .

The boy marched along, the sun overhead on the verge of sunset. Set with a mission, he moves along downtown. It'll have to be his last stop for the day. He'd spent the better part of eight hours in the city at this point. Finally, he makes it to his destination.

Vale Police Station.

The three story building is next to a HUGE parking lot filled to the brim with police cruisers. Cops walk along the sidewalks, some chatting with each other about matters personal and professional. Carmine's shoulders hunch up, expecting attention, but surprisingly gets barely a glance from people.

Right... same city that has both a combat school and world renowned hunter academy. They're used to seeing children walking around with weapons. Kinda strange to think about.

Carmine enters the front of the building, entering a reception area. Uncomfortably, he approaches a front desk, a man in a true blue uniform sitting and going over papers. A dark skinned man with brown hair and mustache. The officer takes notice of him, perking up. "Hello there, young man. What can I do for you?"

Nerves ran again as Carmine scratches the back of his head. "Um. Right. Is, uh... there an Officer Mitch working currently? The officer who responded to the Ronson Pares kidnapping case?"

The officer tilts his head. "Kidnapping case?" The man seems to think, keeping a hawk like gaze on the boy. Suddenly, he lights up in recognition. "Ah, you mean the missing person's report."

"R-right..." Carmine's gaze narrows at the correction.

"Officer Mitch is out on patrol currently. He typically ends up back around 9. If it's urgent, I can call him back, but I need to get an understanding what you need, kid."

The guy was friendly, had a warm smile. Carmine lets out a huff of a laugh. "Yeah, um... I had questions regarded the kid's... disappearance."

The cop raises a brow. "And... on what authority would you be asking questions?" The guy asks with a grin. "You one of the Combat School students?"

The redhead gives a shaky grin, tilting his head in a nervous sweat. Rather than speak a lie, might as well just act on that. "I-I actually came across members of his family. I spoke around with them for their sides of it, but I was confused about the report. It... says that he's been reported missing and that's it?"

The officer nods along, leaning over towards the reception computer. "Hm. Let me see... Ah. Yeah, Mitch responded at 8:43 that night. Seemed like the kid left his home at some point and left the door open. Kid had a history of leaving for one or two days with friends every so often." The guy sighs, looking grim. "If something happened past that, we're kinda left in the dark."

Carmine's shaky grin had quickly pulled to a frown. No mention of Cyrus's witness account. No mention of camera footage or reports of the damage? Maybe classified, but it's more likely this Mitch blew off Cyrus's story.

Still... the camera footage. "Whenever a crime like this happens?" The cop gives him his full attention. "Um... Do you guys go through street camera footage at all? Maybe see if there was anything wrong around that time?"

The man snickers. "Son, we've checked it all. It's our job." He hasn't, though. A spark of irritation builds in Carmine, but he suppresses it.

Rather than get upset, Carmine huffs a laugh. He'll have to turn the information to someone at Beacon then-

He stops. Eyes pausing. Wide orbs lock in on the sight.

"Hey, Burmi! Got some food for ya!" Another cop calls from down the hall. The black cop in front of Carmine pulls his gaze from the kid, ignorant of the boy's stare.

"Alright! I'll be there in a bit." The black man, Burmi, answers the other man.

But Carmine's eyes remain on the officer's sleeve... on his right sleeve, at the wrist. A pin... A metal three eye'd skull with no lower jaw... pinned to the cuff.

. . .

"His lapel. There was a metal pin. Looked like some gang sign. A skull with a third eye socket." Cyrus expounded.

. . .

Carmine snaps his gaze back up at the man turns back to him. He chokes out a laugh, shaking his head. "Y-yeah... s-sorry, I didn't mean to question you g-guys." He speaks nervously, a slight stutter coming out.

The man chuckles, giving a warm smile. "No worries, young man. Glad we got someone caring. That's a rarity in the city."

"Hehe... yeah..." Carmine says awkwardly, nodding and leaving.

He quickly storms out from the building... absolutely furious.

. . .

Carmine's trek back onto Beacon's campus was soured in dread. He passes the arches towards the main fountain, the sunset nearly over to the dead of night. What does he do with this?

Police conveniently don't look at evidence and have the same symbol as the primary suspect. Police don't release proper information. Best case scenario is the cops are neglectful as all hell. Worst case scenario is something he doesn't want to imagine.

He stops by the fountain, running his hand over his face. "God, what do I do?"

"Problems with your day, Carmine?" The calm voice broke the boy from his stupor, only to simmer his veins.

Carmine tenses, but removes his hand from his face, giving a passive stare to the side. Indeed, he spots his father, standing leaning on his cane and sipping coffee. "It's pretty much night. Why are you drinking coffee?"

Ozpin's ghostly smirk remains as he steps closer. "As it would happen, I appreciate the taste." The headmaster gives a light laugh at the boy's grimace. "You appear to have had a... rough day of it in Vale."

It wasn't a question. He knew just looking at Carmine's body language. The boy groans, sending a glance at his father. "The local missing person's reports. Kids taken of varying ages. Are the Hunters doing anything about that?"

Instantly, the headmaster's amusement was gone. His visage was calm and collected. Impossible to unnerve. "Ah, the local disappearances have been an issue. Jobs have come up, and it is being dealt with, but the majority of these cases still remain in the Vale PD's jurisdiction."

The boy's scowl deepens. When he doesn't respond, Ozpin prods. "What exactly has brought about this curiosity?"

The redhead shakes his head. "Just... talked to some people. Doesn't seem like much is being done."

"Hm... it can seem that way." Ozpin begins. The man eyes his son for a moment, beginning slowly. "Is there something that should be brought to my attention?"

Carmine snaps his eyes towards his father, only to drop his gaze a bit. The words were on the edge of his tongue, but...

The image of a blonde woman studiously working alongside the boy came...

The redhead shakes his head. "Nah. Just found it all strange is all." The boy turns to leave, ignoring the frown on the headmaster's face.

"An interest in such things is typical given the line of work you're pursuing. If you want to look up how such cases are dealt with, there is much to learn in Beacon's database." Ozpin leaves out in the air.

Carmine halts his retreat, raising a brow. Slowly, he turns to the man in confusion. "I... Do I have access to that?"

Ozpin's slight smile returns. "Corresponding to your scroll, one can access acceptable files from the library." The father turns and begins his own march away. "You've only never spent more than five minutes in the library."

At the reminder, Carmine's shoulders hunch, face burning in light embarrassment. "Ah... right..."

"Ah, if you would, Professor Oobleck said to place the Vacuan books within his faculty mailbox." Ozpin leaves on one final reminder.

Carmine slouches, groaning. Right, he'd promised to drop those off today... Oh well. He centers himself, now left alone again. First the books... then to check a database of known criminals...

. . .

The Next Day

Fat lot of good that did. Narrowed search results and checking for three hours til midnight, and all Carmine ended up with was zip, zilch, nah dah!

Inside Bella's Grinders once more, he hits the booth seat in a slump. Shoulders drooped, he waits for his food again. Stress eating will probably make him fat someday... Granted if he ever notices, he can still eat and just recall some of it out.

Would that just make him like one of those unhealthy models? Can't be too unhealthy. They DO look fantastic after all? Hmm... probably not a good idea.

The flood of the lunch rush enters the restaurant, but the redhead's order is placed well ahead of time. However, a trio of students in casual uniforms, primarily colored green, enter. Ah, Mikey, the tall brown headed male, flanked by the same brunette and blonde from the day before.

The civilian male stops at the table, the girls looking concerned. "Well? Did you manage to find anything or no?"

Carmine straightens, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Yes and no..."

After sharing a glance, the three other teens sit at the booth, Mikey and the blonde across from Carmine, the brunette next to him. "You actually found something the cops didn't?"

Finding something they didn't or found something they didn't report are two very different things. However, Carmine's nervous gaze narrows. It wouldn't exactly go well telling civilians that the police are crooked or incompetent, true or untrue.

Still, be honest. "The man who took Ronson is an adult male, shoulder length straight green hair, and orange eyes. He was only see wearing a suit with a pin with the crest of a three eye'd skull." The redhead starts out.

"Yeah? That all? Cyrus told Aunt Dawn about this already." Mikey comments, though his posture relaxes. Perhaps because Carmine IS looking into it.

"He also has a semblance able to control metal at the very least." Carmine starts, getting a wide eyed look from the three. "Messed with the power pole and street camera, but still caught the unmarked van they took off in."

"Are you for real?" The other boy spoke quickly. "So the you and the hunters already know where he is, right?"

"Mikey keep calm." The blonde chastises.

Carmine's lips pull to a fine line as the teens bicker for a second. Shaking it off, he continues. "The problem is, the cops won't have any leads on the man, and the Hunters aren't any closer." Mikey recoils slightly at that, but Carmine hurries up to cut him off from a hateful reply. "The Hunter database at Beacon can look up criminal records, and no one in the database matches both the description AND semblance."

"Meaning..." The brunette beside him asks in place of whatever angry response the brown haired boy had coming.

"Meaning whoever it is has never been caught. Or, covers themselves well." The boy sighs, head going to his hand, cradling his head like a nursing a headache. "Can't tell where he'd be from, where he'd go, what people he knows. Nothing."

A silence came over the table, the civilian kids all sharing concerned glances. As they processed Carmine's findings, the waitress came and gave him his food, going ahead and taking orders for the other kids.

"Criminals aren't exactly honest." The brunette starts nervously. "Maybe someone could rat out whoever did it? You said 'They' took off in a van, and that sounds like multiple people involved..."

Mikey gives a wry chuckle. "What? Have the preteen kid go around beating up drug addicts until one of them cracks?"

Carmine's narrow glance homes on the other boy, annoyed. "I'm thirteen. And... with my patience right now, I'd probably crack a drug dealer before they crack, if you know what I mean." He sighs, massaging his head more.

"Why not get help?" The blonde girl adds, sounding concerned. Carmine spares a glance towards her, one brow raised, so she goes on. "Don't Hunters usually work in teams? Yeah, you're a student, but you gotta have someone you can work with, right?"

The redhead freezes in place, eyes blinking in thought...

He didn't exactly give them an answer on that, the rest of the meal passing with minor questions about the bad parts of town. However, his thoughts didn't leave that subject... He didn't know much else to do on his own.

He needed help, but.. it would have to be someone that knows the criminal underworld... someone with connections.

. . .

Elsewhere

The room was dank, water dripping in the corner. A single light brightens the far corner across the dirty basement. Under the light was a table with a single chair, items strewn about. The location must've been the bottom of a good sized building, the open basement open for a solid thirty yards, stairs on the far wall.

On one wall, far away from the single light and table, a small window lined with the ceiling, lined with ground level, allows light to peak in there as well. Multiple thin metal support columns line the center of the room, load bearing metal rods.

And a ratty looking man sits at the last column... his arms pulled back around the column with a pair of handcuffs locking him in place. He wore torn blue jeans, a long sleeve gray shirt with caked mud and spots of red decorating it. He was a white male with black hair, bruises adorning his face. The man whimpers, pulling lightly from the column.

Only to freeze as a metal cane handle lifts up, pushing his shin, to raise his gaze.

Holding his gaze up, showing a black eye, bloodied lip, his head flinches as the cane handle pulls away. Then a swift strike cracks across the make's jaw, a cry of pain echoing through the dim room.

Standing over the prisoner is another human man, with bright orange hair combed to one side. His green eyes showed no sympathy for the battered fellow before him. The man wore a bright white button up dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Around his neck is a tied crimson red ascot. Both hands had black leather gloves. He wore black pants with red interior pockets, and black shoes.

Roman Torchwick

Age – 23

Roman stands over the man, one hand lightly twirling his cane, Velvet Valentine. The white metal and red shaft with black trim and slots whirls in the air quickly as the conman walks nonchalantly to the table.

His off hand nabs the chair, dragging it back towards the restrained man at the support column. The chair legs scrape the ground, ringing the unpleasant screech to echo throughout the room, to ring the man's ears.

Roman turns the chair towards the man, walking around it before he takes a casual sit in front of the beaten man. "How you holding up, Brett? Better not fall asleep." Leaning back on the chair, Roman withdraws a cigar and lighter from his pocket. Draping his cane across his lap, he leisurely lights the tobacco wrap, taking a nice puff. "You know what they say about falling asleep with a concussion. Terrible for your health."

He takes a long breath of the cigar, then blows the smoke directly into the other man's beaten face. The poor man coughs violently, wheezing for breath as he drops to sit against the column, no longer trying to stand.

"Speaking of health, you're not looking too hot. I can get you some Snack-In-A-Box, Mahu Burger- I tell you, they make a fantastic spicy chicken."

The man, Brett, wheezes as he shakes his head. "I-I don't know where it is. I don't know! I'm sorry!"

Roman groans, stretching his neck around before fixing Brett with a glare. "Now, see, we're talking about two completely different things." He waves his hand flippantly, then points to himself. "I'm talking about your health." Then points to Brett. "Because the longer you keep this up, the less patience I have. And, the less patience I have, the worse your health will be."

He quickly snaps his fingers as Brett's face begins to fall. The snap brings his attention back up to Roman. The orange haired man smirks, continuing. "But, since you're oh so intent on talking about it the difficult way, let's try this again."

Roman slowly leans forward, elbows on his knees, as he glares into Brett's fearful eyes. "Ten thousand Lien was missing from Senior's last payment for Hyt. You, among a select group of two, had access to the shipment and payment..." Roman fixes him with a dangerous glint in his eye. "And unfortunately for you, Rico told us about your little side gambling gig... and the debts you racked up with certain... shall we say, unsavory individuals."

"So, tell me who the money went to, and simply be happy losing a finger or two." Roman finishes with a smirk. His head tilts off to the side as he goes on. "Or... your lovely missus will treat the hungry hounds of the Grimm trade. Lovely lass. Such a horrible way to go."

Brett's eyes snap wide in panic. "W-wait! Sadie doesn't have anything to-" Faster than the man can react, Roman's hand flicks the cigar, the burning ash off the end blowing into his eyes. Brett recoils back, screaming in pain and thrashing his head side to side.

Roman frowns, glaring at the man. "Congratulations. You now know why loved ones get threatened." He waves his cigar hand in flippant gestures. "Now, go on."

The torn man, Brett, gulps down as fear takes him... his eyes tearing up as a whimper escapes him once more.

. . .

The door to the brick two story building opens, Roman stepping out, wearing a gray light jacket as he pads off dust from his shoulder. He looks around, finding himself in an alley, as he heads towards the road.

He steps onto the sidewalk, people walking about without a care. He takes a puff of his cigar, turning to glance down the road. Half a block off, he sees the familiar black suit favored by Senior's lackeys. Just a regular white guy with reflective glasses on top of it. The sight makes Roman roll his eyes, but he starts walking towards the guy.

The lackey sits at a bench, reading a newspaper. Hmm, not sticking out like a sore thumb. Senior's men are stepping their game up. Roman closes the distance, taking his own seat on the bench. "Now, please tell me you're getting promoted soon, cause outside the outfit, you look like you actually fit in."

"Hmph." The man grunts indignant. He turns a page in the paper, not bothering to face the orange haired man. "Did he give ya anything?"

Roman leans back, smarmy grin coming on. "Naturally, he squealed. After a while, send some no name to let him out and do whatever the jolly old man wants." He takes another huff of smoke. Placing his cane under his arm, his off hand hands out a folded paper to the henchman. "Names, locations, what the money was for, even their day jobs."

The man puts the paper into his jacket pocket. "Good. You'll be contacted via scroll for your next job." He begins folding the newspaper, putting it under his arm.

As the lackey gets up from the bench, Roman scoffs. "Oh, sure. I'll just sit, pleased as punch, waiting for the whistle. Then I can come like a dog. Are you even planning on paying me this time?"

The man scowls down at Roman, features visibly irate despite the glasses. "You're payment? Speak to Senior if you have issue. Learn your place." He huffs as he walks away, leaving a now scowling Roman.

Alone, the orange haired conman huffs. With a sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Payment... right. What payment?" He shakes his head, standing up. "Well, time to scrounge about for tonight's food money."

Waltzing through the housing district, he twirls his cane idly, eyes flicking about. Roman continues to grunt out under his breath. "Day in and day out. Not a damn bit of change."

Casually, he brushes past a man, tipping his hat at the man. Twenty steps away from the man, and Roman smirks down at the poor sap's wallet. Too easy. Opening it up, his smirk turns to a frown. Not as much as he'd hoped.

So came the next hour, reaching into the afternoon as he ventured towards the center of town. Maybe it was cocky, but it always brings a certain giddiness. To just walk about despite his... profession. Granted, being an underling primarily handling petty thefts under a major criminal organization doesn't exactly make him the most recognizable. Still, giving a smarmy grin to a passing patrol officer brings some satisfaction.

Until he comes to a stop, at the exact center of town. Roman glances down the main road, splitting the town all the way to give just a glimpse. A glimpse of the shining symbol. A solid two miles of city, to a port station, allowing shuttles to ferry up the mountain to it. The shining Beacon academy.

Even at this distance, he can see the shining top of its main tower. Within the crowd on the sidewalk, Roman halts his walk, a far off look come on. People shuffle around him, milling about on their business. Nevertheless, he kept his gaze on the distance white tower.

His right hand twitches, ever so slowly raising. The arm extends, hand raised towards the symbol of hope. "Hmph!" Roman clenches his hand, visualizing the image. The seat of power of an entire kingdom. A seat of power held by some idealistic fool.

Ah, visualized power fantasy over, Roman lowers his hand. A carefree smirk come son, ignoring the odd look a passerby gives him. He huffs a laugh as he continues.

"Someday... someday..." He hums to himself as he begins walking. "Now, to see what the day has in store for me."

He mutters this to himself, casually walking down the street...

Walking right by a red haired boy with silver tips, who barely reaches Roman's chin.

. . .

It... can't be.

Carmine's breath hitches. He pauses mid step, halting as the man passes him. So casually walking by on the street. The man walks right by, not even sparing a glance. It has to be him. Carmine's eyes lock onto the cane. It HAS TO BE HIM. That same hat too!

Turning around, Carmine keeps his eyes on the retreating man's back. No, the criminal's back... the criminal that helped him. And that thought brings a new question.

What does he do about it?

"..." Well... it's either going after the strange man or go searching for drug dealers. When opportunity knocks...

Before he'd even consciously come to a decision, his legs were moving... following after the man.

. . .

Well this was just a damper on his day. Roman's face had pulled into a scowl, still walking down the street. His cane twirling had ceased, simply placing the weapon under his arm while walking with his hands in his pocket. Each step was beginning to wear on his nerves, for good reason.

It's been going on for a half hour now! Just take the hint and leave!

Another block of walking, then Roman cuts right to enter an alley way. The dingy split between the buildings is decorated with a couple dumpsters, garbage cans, and litter all about. The orange head marches through, exiting the alley on the other side of the block, turning left. Still feels it. He still feels that sensation of being watched. That and he hears the shuffling some twenty yards behind him. Always be aware of surroundings. Selective hearing is your friend. Tune out the cars and nondescript chatter of people.

He continues to the street corner, turning left. He continues on until he makes it to another alley... one that intersects with the same one he'd just marched through. Marching across, even kicking an empty can for funsies, his eye twitches in irritation. He exits the alley way, turning left again along the side walk.

… Then left at the street corner... then left into the alley the original way... out the end, turning left onto the sidewalk... then left at the street corner... then left into the alley. This endless cycle of walking into and around the exact same city block continues for ten minutes.

That is, until Roman decides to turn in the alley's intersection, cutting around the corner and stopping. Waiting just a few seconds, he catches the sounds of the footsteps. Under his breath, he mutters. "Alright, enough of this-" He swings his can low around the corner! "OUT WITH YOU!"

And the cane strikes into Carmine's shin as he steps around the corner. "AH!" The young teen trips and yelps. Mid fall, the conman snatches the boy by the collar, twisting him around and slamming him into the brick wall.

Roman pins the redhead into the wall, sneering at him. "Alright, you brat. I don't know what the hell you want but-" And the boy flickers in teal aura, disappearing. Roman follows the flicker, turning his head to see Carmine appear at the center of the alley.

Carmine gets his bearings, hand going over his heart to catch his breath. In a millisecond, Roman snaps his cane up, the tip jabbing and halting at the boy's throat. The redhead flinches, holding both hands up in surrender. "IN PEACE!"

"... What?" Roman's annoyance already starts to build.

A flush colors the boy's cheeks. "Um... I mean... I come in peace..."

Roman narrows his gaze at the kid. "You have exactly ten seconds to explain why you've been following me." With zero hesitation, he begins. "9. 8-"

"I need your help!" The boy shouts, cutting off the countdown. The outburst actually gets a look of amusement from the man.

"W-what?" Roman's laugh stutters his speech, chuckles coming through. "Oh, where are my manners. I didn't realize I was known as the friend and helper of children! HA!" He steps back, joyfully mocking the boy. "Beat it, kid! I don't help street rats, and no, I DON'T do favors."

Carmine scowls at him, lips pulling to a pout. He shakes it off, fixing the criminal with a serious glare. "I'm not looking for a handout! I need your help tracking down the missing children that have been kidnapped."

THAT makes Roman pause. A beat passes, processing the demand. Only for the man to burst into a laugh. His laughter echoes through the alley. Great bellows sound loud enough, some passerby's at the streets turn to glance down the dark alley before continuing on. The orange haired man settles, shaking his head. "Kid, I don't know who told you about me, but you are NOT going to get anywhere by playing the sympathy card. Now, off you go, Silver Streak." Roman's head tilts one way in thought. Have I used that one, before? He thinks to himself.

Carmine's narrowed gaze holds up. His fists clench, jaw set with determination. "Please. The cops are likely corrupt, and the Hunters lack information. My last lead is for a criminal informant. And right now, you're my best bet!"

Okay, amusement was rapidly fading. The conman fixes the boy with a look. "And just what the actual hell makes you believe that I would help you." The condescension oozes out from his lips.

"Because you've helped me before." Carmine stands his ground, hardening his gaze at the man...

One beat.

Two beats.

Roman's face morphs from skepticism to hysterical! "HAHAHAHA! Wai- Wai-Wait!" He cackles, his stance swaying as he ends up leaning shoulder against the wall. "Ho- Hol- Hold up! I'm usually more composed-" His sentence breaks as he chuckles, breathless, as he wipes a tear from his eye. "I've heard some bad lies, but that takes the cake."

The boy's jaw drops, looking offended. "It's TRUE!"

"Whatever, kid. I got better things to do than be pestered by a Little Weasley." He waves the kid off, turning to walk away. "If I catch you following me again, you'll regret it, kiddo." Back turned, his off hand gives a lazy wave.

The condescension irked the boy, body tensing and hands clenching. Annoyance pushed him to say something he hadn't managed to successfully speak in years. "Killian Gonzola!"

Roman's steps froze, even his twirling cane seeming to freeze mid rotation... A few seconds lasted before the orange haired man turns around, giving the boy an incredulous look. His green eyes trail down the boy, then up, recognition fully coming to him.

"Well, well, well... it's actually you, Silver Streak." Facing the boy fully, he meets his eyes, raising a brow. "Bastard child of Old Man Superior of Beacon." He crosses his arms, giving the boy an expectant look.

Carmine flinches at the word 'bastard', but eventually settles on nodding with a glare. "Yeah... and you're Ronal-" Roman's gaze turned unimpressed. "Randal-" His eyes went half lidded, a dry glare. "... Ro... man?" The boy ends almost as a question.

"I am Roman Torchwick, yes." The criminal adds after a scoff. "Fun times, catching up and all, but I'm not interested in charity. Good on you for surviving, now have fun with life." He ends his statement, turning around.

The teen blinks, jaw dropping in shock. "You-... You helped me before!"

The man snaps his gaze back to the kid, a hard glint in his eye. "A mistake that I will never make again." The force of the statement makes the boy flinch. "Newsflash, boy. Helping you screwed me over in a lot of ways after my boss learned of that psychopath's failure. He doesn't like losing the return on investment. So, I'm afraid my days of giving a rats hair ass about anyone is LONG gone. Set sail. Bye. Gone. I don't do charity anymore, so deal with your own problems. I've already suffered for helping ya once, brat!"

Seeing the boy recoil brought satisfaction to the man. His smirk came on in full at the flash of guilt Carmine showed. So, he finished. "So, unless you got a pot of gold from that rainbow, my short red haired friend, I'm not interested in sticking my neck out for you or anyone."

Seeing Roman turn to leave, Carmine's eyes slam closed. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he's already moving before he'd even made the decision. The boy sprints forward, jumping up. Doing a flip, he lands in front of Roman, cutting him off from exiting the alley.

"What do I have to do?" He asks, simply.

Roman's face flashes to a scowl upon the boy cutting him off, only to morph to confusion after. "Excuse me?"

"You need a benefit for you to help me? Fine! Name whatever you want." The boy stubbornly declares. "You helped me when it was my fate to end up like those kids have. Now, it's my turn to help them. I don't care, AT ALL, about whatever price you have. I need your help to do this." He gulps down a breath as a bead of sweat drops in his nerves. "So, what do I have to do for you?"

The orange haired man didn't look impressed. In fact, he scoffs, shaking his head. "Kid... You really don't seem to have anything to interest me."

The insinuation boils the boy, getting a glare back at the conman. "I have unrestricted access to Beacon Academy and inside Hunter information!" Rising to the challenge, damning the consequences, he raises his chin towards the man. "What do you need?"

At that, the man pauses. His raised finger, ready to snap a witty insult halts...

The man and boy stand in the alley, locked gazes. A full minute passes before Roman's hand drops.

Another minute as Roman's posture relaxes, thoughts coming in... at a mile a second.

Slowly, a smirk creeps onto his face. "You're serious, huh?" Seconds pass, Carmine holding his gaze. At that, Roman smirks. "Well then..." He tucks his cane under his left arm. "Let's cut a deal..." Carmine simply nods, unabashed with zero hesitance. "Tomorrow. Thirty minutes after Noon. Where would you like to meet, kid?"

Carmine raises a brow, confusion breaking his heated glare. "Um... B-... Bella's Grinders & Pizzeria?"

"Really..." Immediately, the man's smirk leaves, an unimpressed look coming on. His eyes pull closed as he turns his neck, popping out the tension. Eyeing the boy once more, he continues. "Very well. Tomorrow. If I show up, that means I've found some use for you that will make it worth my time. If I don't show, piss off, never to bother me again." Smirk returning, his hand reaches out, palm open. "Deal?"

. . .

The dull roar of an engine rumbles through the dark cabin. Metal walls on all sides, the shaking room is filled to capacity with rows of seats... each one occupied with riders of variable sizes. The cabin shakes, a bump in the road.

The sounds of rattled chains echo through the rows. The rows are split with an aisle down the center, six seats to a row. Down the aisles shows five rows, totaling thirty occupants. All the seated individuals lurch forward, barely keeping themselves with their seats. Breaks.

Movement sways them to the side, more chains shifting on the floor. Each row, the occupants were shackled, at the feet. With the split in the center, each one is chained in groups of three. A turn. The cabin is slowing...

The rumbling shifted, the sound of the engine calming. Still there, but calmed. The shifts in movements slow. They're moving slower. The quakes throughout weaken significantly, coming to a stop. End of the line...

The end of the cabin opens up, piercing outdoor light shining in and illuminating the entire container. Three rows in, a girl with half pink, half brown hair, sits. Her mismatched pink and brown eyes squint uncomfortably, adjusting to the light. She wore a white sleeveless shirt tucked into a brown corset leading to dark pants. Her shoes were white, and she had pink armbands and pink socks.

Neopolitan Rhodes

Age - 12

"Get out and line up!" A commanding voice shouts from outside the opening. Each set of three occupants stands. Slowly, they shuffle towards the opening... the back of a semi truck trailer. They climb out, one by one.

Upon exiting the truck, Neo glances tired eyes around her... Not a great angle. The truck was at the bottom of a concrete ramp incline. In front of them all was a loading dock of sorts, like a truck yard... Into a great tall building. At least, it's large enough that the group of chained children cannot see the ends of the structure, only how tall it is.

Her eyes light up in realization, then she sighs. The top of the incline was ground level. The incline itself was merely a ramp to a loading dock connected to the building's sub levels. This way, if the kids attempt to identify their surroundings, all they can find is the sky and not a great view of the building.

Although, it was FAR too warm to be Atlas... and the sky was so clear. Unlikely to be Vacuo. Given the sounds from inside the truck trailer, she'd guess it's more likely Vale territories. For a building this big, it has to be a major city.

She bites back a groan, only for a sharp pain to burn in her throat. Her head tucks down, resisting the urge to bring her hands to her neck. Her narrow gaze focuses on the far wall, waiting for the pain to subside. Year and a half, and it still flares up... the pain subsides completely as she breaths in relief.

Said relief dies upon hearing incessant clapping. "Children, Children!" The clapping catches the attention of the entire collection of children, preteens and teens. Coming towards the group was the irritating bastard, orange eyes and long green hair wearing a black suit, tie, and gray button up shirt under the jacket. Spyyra Barnall. "I'm so excited for you all. The big day is coming up!"

He begins to walk along the groups of chained children, smiling and nodding in approval. His eyes light up with a new spark upon seeing his personal favorite. "Ah! Twenty eight forteeeeeeeeen!" He sharply holds the 'e' sound, as if cooing for a toddler. He stops in front of Neo, grinning. "The coming day is exceptionally special for you."

Suddenly, despite his smile remaining, his eyes lose absolutely all light... a dark glint and air comes from a stare alone. "Or rather... this is a special THIRD time for you."

Neo schooled her features, trying to give nothing. However, her eyes narrow ever so slightly in realization. So, that's what this is. Again?

As if reading her mind, Spyyra continues. "Yes. Again." He shakes his head. "Best behave this time." He ends, giving her a deceptively warm smile. "After all. It's your last chance!" Her eyes snap to him, but he's already turned around. The odd man calls out to the crowd. "Alright! Before we can move on, we need to have a PHYSICAAAALLLLL!" He sings the last word, casually strolling towards the main building.

God damn it, she hates his singing voice.

. . .

The chains hit the floor, echoing out at the collective CLANG. Neo breaths in relief, loosed from the shackles, as she enters a single ten foot by ten foot room. The door keeping her in was made of solid metal, save for a sleeve with an outside handle that would allow her captors to check in on her.

Each wall was smooth, polished, and spaced just enough so that any attempt at scaling them would fail. She noticed this at first glance. At the observation, she raises her head, finding the ceiling well over fifty feet above her. At the very top, the ceiling itself was grated.

After staring at it for a while, she could make out a person walking on the grating above it. It was a floor! She's literally seeing the ground floor from below! That... seems dumb. Unless...

The tricolored girl quickly scans each wall at the bottom, finding a crease. Her now wide eyes blink, colors switching sides unconsciously as she simply gives a blank stare. The girl's brow furrows, running a finger along the groove.

So, this floor... raises?

She glances back to the far, far off ceiling. Grating like flooring typically wasn't super secure. It's likely rigged to move or be easily removed.

Meaning her 'room' was merely a platform, meant to raise for her big 'reveal'. That thought made her eyes go half lidded, an air of annoyance coming over her.

Well, one thing is for certain. This set up was much more grandiose than the last time, and that meant many, MANY more people were coming. There was a time she'd wonder just how large this organization was, but nothing surprised her anymore.

A half hour passes, the girl snapping her gaze up as the slide on the door opens, revealing gleeful orange eyes. "Oh, good! You're awake!" The door audibly unlocks as Spyyra enters, smiling wide. He shakes his head, a good natured tone coming from him. "I know it's awfully boring here with nothing to do, so let's get the business over with."

Neo raises to her feet, emotionless in her features. She locks eyes with him... She can see it. In his eyes, behind the burnt out sun-like orbs. He was reading her every chance he had, and she refuses to give him his answers.

His eyes were still just slightly too wide... Only slightly off-putting.

He turns, gesturing out the door. "This way. We gotta get your checkup over with!"

Eyes on him and chin high, Neo silently steps out the door into the concrete halls. The lightning is tinged a dull yellow. Identical steel doors line the walls, other children inside each one, she's sure. She begins walking down the hall, the tall, well dressed man strolling behind her comfortably.

They turn and march down long hallways, eventually finding a door down the way opening to reveal bright white lighting. A nondescript man wearing a black suit, sunglasses, and short black hair.

Behind the new man, a boy is dragged behind him. A tall teen. Like, TALL. Super lanky. He looks like... a Faunus of some kind, given the hairy arms. He was tan and had medium length sand colored hair. Despite the teen boy's size, he looked around, completely shaken, like a startled deer. Although, he certainly doesn't look like a deer.

Neo and Spyyra slowly move to the right side of the hallway, allowing the new man and the startled boy to pass. Behind the girl, Spyyra chuckles. "Ah, new blood. Warms my heart."

Yeah, like he has a heart.

"Either way," The forest green haired man continues. "We gotta get you checked up by the new doctor."

New doctor?

Neo's step slightly shakes, but she steadies herself. Her teeth clench, annoyed at letting a reaction show. Spyyra chuckles. "Ah, yes. Dr. Near isn't here to check everyone over this time. Sad for me, too." Just the mention of the man's name brings a burn to Neo's throat.

That man. The doctor who took her voice away. Always wearing gray pants, long white duster, a lavender shirt, and his glasses. Despite knowing the man for a year and a half now, she'd been convinced he wasn't human. His matted black hair always stayed the same perfect straight length just past his eyes.

Still... someone new usually meant that the other was being replaced...

"Don't get your hopes up." Spyyra chuckles behind her, breaking her thoughts. "The Doc is busy with high priority work elsewhere. We picked up a newbie a few months ago. She'll be checking you over." Happily, Spyyra walks around her, walking into the open doorway of shining white light.

Neo follows him, entering a sterile white room, a counter full of tools, as well as a patient bed and counter standing in the center of the room. However, Neo's attention drew to the person who was leaned over the counter, checking off something on several papers in a clipboard.

Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, bangs framing the left side of her face. A long white doctor coat draped down her body, front open to show a white pleated top and black, slightly tinged purple corset. She wore tight pants matching her corset's color, and black heels.

"Oh~ Hello~ Nurse!" Spyyra drawls out, tone lilting suggestively.

"One." The woman says, zero context. Slowly, she turns to face the two, off hand moving to her hip, though she stands prim and proper. Neo locks eyes with the woman's amber eyes. Neo brings up an innocent, false smile. "This the special one?"

"Oh, no one's more special than you, love." Spyyra's grin turns predatory as he bows to the woman.

"Two." The man looks up, locking eyes with the woman's. A chilling glare wills him to freeze in place, though it only amuses him more. "Keep going, and I WILL cut it off."

Neo didn't wish to think what 'it' was. Gross. Spyyra chuckles. "Don't threaten me with a good time!" He finally waves his hand over Neo's head. "Yes, this is our star giveaway, Number 2814."

The doctor eyes Neo, clearly unamused by the man's behavior. "The numbers don't exactly help the presentation. Name?" She brings her clipboard up, ready to begin.

"Spyyra Barnall, widowed man seeking love." He answers, hand over his head.

For her credit, Neo didn't jump at what happened next. In a flash, the doctor's hand reached behind the counter in the center of the room, retrieving a cool metal object. Gripping a handle of sorts, she draws a golden sword from it. The slash comes forth, only to halt an inch from Spyyra's face.

Neo's eyes do snap wide in shock. However, Spyyra's eyes were wide, matching an unhinged grin. If the girl's hearing was correct, he was taking a stuttered shaky breath feeling... she doesn't want to know.

The doctor's gaze was the polar opposite. Cold, promising harm without feeling. "Three. Get out of the room. I'll speak to her myself."

"Hehe." The green haired man shakes his head, though his eyes don't blink. "Sorry, I know you're new here. Heard you're talented, but you must understand that this one here is pretty wily. She's been here for so long, it just means something special to see her going." He gestures with his explanation, raising a finger as if divulging a fine point.

"I can handle myself. Now leave." The order is final.

The man finally relents, sighing. "Oh, alright! Have your fun." He turns to towards the door, but stops, turning back. "Oh! How rude of me." He smiles down at Neo. "2814, this is our new blood, Miss Gale. Don't give her any problems, ya here?" With a courteous smirk and lazy wave, he exits the room into the dimly lit hall, shutting the door.

Finally left alone, 'Miss Gale' turns back to Neo, finding the girl simply staring back. However, the blonde sighs, eyes shut. "He did say you were a troublesome one."

Instantly, she slashes out with her bright yellow sword. It cuts right through the tricolored girl. Or rather, her image. It shatters like glass, dissipating. In a blur, the doctor moves towards her counter and slashes.

And Neo, the real one, blocks the coming slash with the metal sheath left behind by the doctor. Barely, her yes wide with shock from the speed. The tall blonde easily pressures the short preteen a few inches, until Neo gets good footing to push back.

Amber eyes raised. "Well, it would seem you really are a handful." She pulls the blade back, easing herself. "But I would appreciate my sheath back."

Neo steps back, eyes quickly taking in the room... only the one exit to the hall, to Spyyra. And her weapon in this situation is another weapon's sheath... right. She smiles innocently, surrendering the metal shaft.

The blonde sheathes her weapon, placing it upon the counter. She then retrieves her clipboard and pen, turning her attention to it. "Okay. Do you understand what is happening?"

"..." Neo gives a blank stare.

Raising a brow, the woman eyes the little girl. "How long have you been... in our care here?"

Neo catches something with that. Just the tone in 'our'. Force? She mentally shrugs, chalking it up to the girl being new to the organization.

The blonde finally gave an annoyed stare. "I guess I'll have to put down refusal to speak in the notes?"

This girl really doesn't know. She IS new. Neo finally sighs. Opening her mouth wide, she points into it, getting the woman's attention. Closing it, Neo then does a horizontal swipe in front of her throat.

The doctor stops, eyes widening just slightly. "Oh... You're mute. I apologize."

Apologize?! THEY did this! Neo's eyes burned. Of all things, pity? Pity from these bastards?

The woman seems to notice the boiling anger at that. Her posture shifts. Pausing for a moment, she pulls a chair out from under the counter, then another that she places in front of the girl. "I see. They did this to you." The woman returns her attention to the clipboard.

Ever so slowly, Neo moves into the chair opposite from her, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

"How long have you been with them?" Neo schools her features, holding up her hand with two fingers. "Two... Months? Years?" The girl nods. "Okay." She notes the answer. "Your semblance is awfully pronounced for your age. You make solid illusion construct copies of others or objects, I'm assuming. Upon creation of a copy of yourself, you and anything else you've copied cannot be tracked for a short time. Invisible then?"

Neo's eyes shot wide... That was the fastest summation of her semblance she'd heard. Her jaw clenches, annoyance filling her. This woman had no prior information on her apparently, so to deduce so much from a single semblance use... she's good. The girl gives a stiff nod.

"Any other applications?" The doc asks.

Neo huffs, closing her eyes. Slowly her entire body blurs, changing. Her hair shifts entirely platinum blonde, her eyes turn amber, and her clothes turn into a complete copy of the doctor in front of her. She manages to add several inches to herself, but she's still a far cry from the woman's full height.

Miss Gale nods, studying her closely. "That... is a very applicable semblance. Very powerful. Does it have a name?" At the questioning glance, the woman only stares.

Still confused, Neo lets the illusion shatter. Revealing her true self, she shrugs, a heavy breath coming out of her.

The woman raises a brow at the little girl. "Your aura is still incredibly small to handle multiple uses of it, it seems." A look of understanding came from the blonde. "Well, let's name it a... Shatter semblance, shall we?" Neo glances up, brow raised. We're making names now? What is this?

"Now, how old are you?" The woman goes on. Easy to answer. Neo holds up her hand, five fingers, clench to a fist, five fingers, clench to a fist, then hold up two fingers. "Next of kin?"

That... shouldn't be asked. Neo's stare turns to a harsh glare. The little girl tilts her head inquisitively. Her hand comes up, gesturing between them.

"I'm getting to know those the organization has brought under their... care." There it is again. That tone of... disgust? It didn't make sense!

Anger bleeds into the girl as she stands from the backless, stool, knocking it to the ground loudly in the contained room. Clenched teeth, she takes an aggressive step towards the blonde, glaring daggers, as her hand waves around herself.

There's a silence at that. The blonde simply observes the little girl, slowly raising a brow. "Two years, and you still have this much spirit to stand against them." She pauses for a moment, eyes holding Neo enraptured. "If you were to leave them, and never return... would you have a place to return to?"

"..." She wanted to hold the stare. To hold defiance and not answer, but... a violet haired woman popped to mind... Neo's eyes clenched shut as her head tilts down, ever so slowly. She shakes her head.

The doc nods at this before turning her clipboard around and offering it. The offer shocks the girl, who flinches back when she opens her eyes to see a sheet of paper. "Please... write down your name for me. Those numbers are inhumane."

The girl gives a confused stare back, eyes flicking to and from the paper. She clearly didn't understand why this was happening, but she hesitantly takes the clipboard. A moment passes as she writes, then hands it back to the doctor.

Reading it, Gale nods. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Neopolitan Rhodes." Nodding to the girl, she holds a stare down with her, an unpleasant look coming over her. "I believe... you are someone who can help me."

Instantly, the girl's eyes narrow dangerously. Of course, that's what this is. She's just someone to use. That's more like it.

"Let's be clear. I was told you had a behavioral issue with your masters. In three days, they will be gathering their contacts for an auction, to BUY your services." Slave trade. "This will be your third time in six months. I was given the note that your buyers were each harmed in the long run by your actions." The doctor then fixes a gaze on the mismatched eyes. "And your attempt to get the other half of my weapon with zero hesitation shows me one thing." She smirks, just a touch. "You can't be threatened anymore.

Why was this woman smirking at this? Neo's eyes remained narrow, but he lip curves to a smirk of her own.

"Of course, you're getting to the end of their patience to get a profit out of you." The blonde says, still smirking. "Nevertheless, you don't wait a second to do self sabotage anything between them and you, to deal them harm... This is good."

That brings pause to the girl. Her head tilts, smirk dropping as a brow raises towards the woman.

"You want to know why that's a good thing?" The woman raises her own brow. Upon getting a nod from Neo, she continues. "Because in three days time, I will free each and every one of the captured children here." Neo's eyes snap wide, quickly moving to the closed door. The woman huffs. "They gave me this personal space to work with as their 'new physician'." The blonde smirks. "I've made sure this room is immune to eavesdropping."

Instantly, Neo is on her feet, kicking her chair over onto the floor. The collision with the floor sounds loudly in the room, but the doctor hadn't moved an inch. Holding the stare, Neo tenses, waiting. This was a trap. Someone trying to test her before her 'big day'. Something new to mess with her-

Neo shakes her head, putting that thought away. With a heated glare, she points at the blonde, looking into the woman's amber eyes. Everything to see what this woman is truly thinking. To see through whatever illusion she's trying to cast on the preteen.

The doctor steps from her seat, standing tall and sighing. "It's amazing what you stumble upon when looking for... less than legal research grants. I happen upon shady money asking for simple things... I succeed in those things, they give me more. I always had suspicions about them though..." She keeps eye contact with the poor girl. "Hence a fake name of Glinda Gale." She smirks.

Blair Goodwitch

Age – 21

She continues, keeping eye contact. "My name is Blair Goodwitch. I say this because I doubt you'll help them out by reporting me." Her tone drips, dead serious, as her eyes gloss over in a cold sheen. "In fact, I want you to help me bring them down."

Neo's gaze trails over the woman, then back to her eyes. Her gaze clouds, uncertain, questioning. It... it's too good to expect something for nothing. No, it's too good to expect ANYTHING from these people.

"And in exchange..." The blonde keeps eye contact, stepping towards the suspicious girl who steps away. "I will personally see to it to free you and all the children here." She offers Neo her hand, her rigid posture held despite it. "So, how about it? Help me to help you, Neopolitan."

The preteen stood, frozen, gaze flicking between the offered hand and the woman's eyes. Eyes that were cold... Unyielding. This woman, Blair, wasn't someone to be trifled with or anger...

Neo had plenty of time interpreting people through reading them alone. She liked to think she was getting good at it... But, it unsettled her with this woman...

There was conviction.

. . .

Carmine's eyes drop to the conman's extended hand. Swallowing the pressure in his throat, he gulps. Agreeing to something that he didn't even know what it was? His mind was finally catching up to his decisions, the gravity of the situation cooling his anger... He doubted he count take this decision back.

Still... His gaze looks up at the man, Roman Torchwick. The same man he'd been saved by once, in a way. If there was a deal like this to make... he couldn't choose a better devil.

. . .

Two years under these monsters. Taken from her family, removed from her voice, and treated as property... And out of nowhere, Neo's expected to believe this woman, like some random angel in the darkness, was actually here for altruistic reasons?!

The idea was absolutely laughable... but?

Glancing into Blair's eyes, Neo's hand begins to raise, hesitant. However, then the final thought came. That smirking, gleeful, sadistic, arrogant bastard waiting just outside in that hallway...

The thought... revenge.

Neo's lip curled up, eyes holding a twinkle not there before. To imagine that man brought to his knees for what he's done. Her smile could only be so sweet imagining it. Her small slender hand moves into Blair's, gripping with deceptive strength.

And they shake.

. . .

Carmine's right hand raises, stopping only for a second before clasping Roman's before shaking once. Roman's smirk was offset by The boy's determined glower.

"Deal!"

OH HO! Finally getting the team together! Took my ass long enough! Carmine's reunion with Roman, and Neo meets Blair.

Also, new armor mode reveal, "Jager" pronounced "Yay" then "Gr". Plating shifts to his legs, using dust ports to allow speedy movements and greater acrobatics... once he can get used to it.

The armored sleeve default is named "Zero". These are in reference for the weapon's inspiration.

Join next time in Chapter 13: Three Times the Pain.