First day of investigations has led to many dead ends, yet Roman's hunch still tells him to push through. A bond is starting to take shape.
[Chapter Four - How Big a Fool's Errand?]
Rush hour; everyone in just about every major city on the planet is familiar with it, more so in Prospero. The fact that the downpour had resumed did not help the congestion, but that was about it. He was right in picking when to drive back just as the traffic mellowed out a bit, but even then, the amount of vehicles still packed the streets.. Turning on the indicators, he took a right turn and was greeted by a sizable line that had accumulated in front of the Silk Road. As he got nearer and nearer, the queue became clearer: from suits to labourers and even some huntsmen and huntresses by the looks of it; maybe seniors from Beacon.
Only took him an hour to get near to Hei's, all things considered. Still, a bit late. As he pulled into the club's garage, a thought suddenly dawned on him: what's Ion up to? In fact, what has he and the twins been doing all day? Well, nothing good if Miltia's in the equation, he supposed.
Gathering his things, Ion's bag, and files, Roman threw the car keys to an employee before making his way inside through the backdoors. Now, this was something he always disliked: the network of hallways. Where to? Take left at the next junction? Keep going through the crossroad? The second exit at the roundabout and into the intercounty highway? What crackhead did Hei hire for this?!
One would argue—and many in fact have—that connecting the block like this made it practical and kept the operation hidden, which was a fair point and Roman himself has memorised the layout. However, his constant moaning of said layout annoyed Hei, and Roman quite liked annoying Hei.
By the faint, yet already maddening cacophony of dubstep, or electronic dance, or whatever the hell it's called, he was close. An employee pushed open the doors to the club back rooms for him, and it was as busy as the back hallways he passed with kitchen staff going from one station to another, sending out food and orders, bringing out new stock for the bar. It was a busy night, and Roman guessed right that Hei would be in the nightclub's office instead of the hotel's or restaurant's; but he didn't expect things to be THAT busy as he watched a line of Hei's lieutenants and enforcers exit the office. All gave him a respectful bow of the head that earned them a nod back from Roman before he entered. Inside remained Hei, who was seemingly wallowing behind the brown oak desk with his hands steepled under the chin, one eye suddenly snapping open as he heard someone enter his office again.
"So who died," Roman's snark did not miss a beat.
The man groaned as he threw his specs atop a stack of papers. "Where've you been all day?"
"Here and there," walking over to the table, Roman took a seat across his friend with a sigh. "I dropped the necklace with Mabel, she'll probably call tomorrow." Hei nodded. "Then I went to see what Donnie found."
"Huh… I'll be damned. G-Man sure work fast." He grunted before pulling out a bottle of liquor and two glasses from under the table. "So, what did he find?"
"A lot more than I expected, actually. But still a whole lot of damn nothing in the long run." Roman declined the glass of whisky pushed towards him before continuing. "Birth certificate, immunisation records, and so on… but nothing that leads."
"I guess you're stuck for now then?" Hei let one of his brow crawl up as he took a sip.
"That seems to be the situation right now, yes..." Roman sighed. He fished one of the files out of Ion's bag and handed it to Hei. "Apparently nothing precedes his papers. No parents, no relatives; nothing. He basically popped—" he snapped his fingers to emphasise— "into existence according to the records."
"How the hell does that happen?" he asked while putting on his spectacles back.
"I had the exact same reaction."
"Then these gotta be fake, right?"
"Well, it's altered, that's for sure. Can't say more than that for now."
Hei sighed, pushing away the folder. He snatched his glass of liquor and downed it in a swift motion. He groaned as the alcohol burned his throat, looking back at the friend across him. "The hell did you get yourself into, Ro?"
"Hell if I know at this point," responded Roman, eyes glancing past his reflection and into the nightclub through the one-way mirror behind Hei. "What I do know though is that I'm getting this kid home. One way or another."
Hei looked at him as if Roman was an idiot. He laughed. "A stubborn piece of shit, as always."
A smirk crept up his lips. "You know it."
Roman was sure Hei would ask for a run-through, but he only sat there, completely focused on the papers in front of him. An earlier thought suddenly revisited Roman: The hell's those three been up to all day? Miltia, obviously the agent of chaos; Ion, probably got dragged into her shenanigans; and Melanie—Gods bless her soul—keeping them in tabs until she, too, was provoked into joining the anarchy.
A pang of guilt went through Roman. He was hoping Ion hadn't been traumatized. The redhead opened his mouth but his voicing of thought got interrupted by door knocks, both men then panned their heads over.
"What is it?" shouted Hei.
"Boss, Woods and her men are here."
Hei muttered a curse under his breath. "Right, I'll be out in a second!"
"Wait. Woods?" Roman quirked a brow. "She's why everyone's been on edge back there? What happened?"
Hei stopped putting on his coat. "You didn't know?"
"I'm up to date with national politics these days, Hei." Roman tilted his head forward and brought hand under his chin. "Not gang diplomacy."
"Turf problem. One of her guys apparently got caught selling drugs nearby. Got the shit kicked out of 'em. Though apparently, it happened in her territory." Muttering another curse, Hei switched to Mistral's Gojon without missing a beat. "I swear, shit keeps going deeper and deeper into the gutter ever since mother went back to Mistral."
In turn, Roman too switched to the language. More out of habit and disposition if anything. "You don't need me around, do you? 'Cause I'm not going. I can't be seen around trash gangsters, you see. Especially with the new draft legislation around the corner."
A snort. "The last thing I need right now is a quarrel between exes."
Roman boomed out a very forced laugh. "Right, right. Funny."
"Hey, you started it." His friend returned with a genuine laugh much to Roman's annoyance. As the two began walking, Hei asked: "You going home or what?"
"Not if Ion's asleep. And I'm exhausted anyway." The man groaned while rubbing his neck. "Got any empty rooms in the hotel? I can't take anything below an executive suite, as you know."
Hei scoffed. "Just go check the receptionist, there's probably an empty one." He opened the door, and as they went through, a group of Hei's men was already waiting. "Get some rest and we'll talk tomorrow."
The redhead gave a mock salute, looking over a shoulder. "Break the bitch's kneecaps if you need to."
"Ain't no need to badmouth your ex like that," mumbled Hei.
"Yack, yack."
(-S.o.T-)
Desks. Computers. Operators. A large screen that hugged the curvature of the front wall.
This was a missions room.
Well, where is it? Confidential.
What was the mission? An absurd one for everyone participating in it, but one decided to voice her thoughts.
Taking off her headset, the woman looked to the person standing on her left. "Doc, can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead," responded the elder man, not glancing away from the tablet he held.
She took a look around at her other peers before whispering: "What the hell are we doing?"
"A standard-issue operation, lieutenant. I believe that much is obvious."
"Nothing's normal in this. It's as far from 'standard issue' as it could be..." She looked back at the massive screen displaying an array of information ahead. "Peculiar first encounter; official papers without any other preceding records; practically unexplainable existence? At this rate, the target might get spooked and ditch the package."
The doctor sighed, putting away his device. "Lieutenant, how long have you been working with us?"
Visibly confused at the question, she hadn't given an immediate response. "Two years, sir. Three this year."
"Right… Well, I've been here for three decades; ten with the current High Overseer." He gazed forward, having this far-away look in his eyes. "He has… questionable methods, yes—I believe even the O2C was quite adamant about this decision—but the man has proven his to be correct again and again. I myself have no doubts about the High Overseer's integrity, but I understand where yours come from. I say: for now hang on to my words, then let future actions convince you.
"As of the moment we have more pressing matters: keeping an eye on Little Blue." He took the lieutenant's silence as her understanding. Turning around, the doctor seemed to be calling for someone. "Now where is that file on Torchwick that I asked for?"
(-S.o.T-)
Roman was having the best night's sleep he's had in a good while. He must've slept for at least seven hours, which was a blessing in his line of work. The Valean Dream, indeed. Well, cliched sentences aside, the use of past tense is the key here; so what was it that had awoken Roman from his blissful slumber?
The room's phone, of course. Speaking of phones, the idea of calling someone is rather selfish, Roman thought to himself. It's basically going "Right, I don't care about what you were doing, you're talking to me now," isn't it? Now, this mental tangent was not without purpose; Roman thought that if he had kept his brain occupied for just enough time, logic wouldn't kick in and will him into answering the phone. Once again, this was the best sleep he's had in a while, so why ruin it when he could just ignore everything and return to sleep.
However, unfortunately for him, logic seemed to be rather active this morning, and so that part of his mind willed one of his arms to grab the phone and answer. Though logic might be very present this morning, enthusiasm was evidently not as his appendage flailed around for the offending device.
"Hello?" Roman lifted his face from the heavenly pillows and looked towards the wall clock, only barely slurring out an answer. "What is it?"
"Mister Torchwick? Are you awake, sir?"Well, he certainly was now. "Mister Xiong told me to contact you, sir. Said something about 'your stray' bawling? I didn't understand my—"
Oh, well there goes enthusiasm. Or panic? Hard to tell, really. Roman flipped onto his back and slung his legs off the mattress. Eyes wide, visage worn out, and hair absolutely everywhere: "Where are they?"
He was directed to the lift and up to the penthouse's private floor. A loud cry could be heard as soon as the double doors were opened. Roman, prompted by instinct, rushed inside in search of the source and found an immediate answer.
There was Ion, crying: full tears and snot. In front of him were the twins trying to calm him down from whatever caused the outburst. Though—judging by her looks—Melanie was doing it out of necessity so she can go back to sleep again. Kneeled down next to Ion was Hei, and he was the first one who noticed Roman's arrival.
"What happened?" demanded Roman as he stomped towards the group, the twins finally noticed the newcomer and turned to face him.
"Lo-Lo…" Both of his ears drooped pitifully to the side; the pair of indigos associated with childish curiosity was flooding with tears; lips curved into a quivering frown—he looked like a kicked puppy. "Loman! Loman!" the boy kept calling him as he waddled over and hugged Roman's leg, burying his face into the trousers.
On reflex, he picked up the boy and held him close; letting Ion continue weeping into his shoulder. "What happened?"
Miltia approached, twiddling with her fingers. "I thought he had a nightmare! We tried calming him down." Her voice was raised. Concerned, defensive. "Me and Melanie didn't do anything!"
Roman's expression softened as he kneeled. "Oh, of course you didn't, darling," he assured, rubbing the girl's cheek. "I know that."
"The girls woke up to him screaming." Hei placed his hands atop the twins' head. "Looking for you, apparently."
"Really?" Roman looked down at the boy in his arms. "Hey, buddy. What's wrong?"
The man didn't get an answer as the child continued weeping. With a loud sniff he looked up at Roman, and through sobs muttered the same thing: "No—no… no leave Ion. No leave Ion." He retreated back to Roman's shoulder, but the whispers of those three words could still be heard; a mantra. Roman's eyes met Hei's, the latter shaking his head when he saw through the former's. Roman's intention, in particular. Hei was right, he had to admit, but the kid isn't making this easier for him.
Ponder later, Torchwick, reprimanded himself. You get this kid home.
Roman opened his eyes with a sigh, not even realising the single tear he held back. None did. The look his friend gave him elicited a shrug and chuckle from Roman before he continued to hearten the boy in his arms. It came out as a calming whisper: "Ion, buddy… look at me," and Roman only continued when a pair of indigos peered up at him. "I'm not gonna leave you… I promise I won't… I… I promise I'll get you home, okay?"
A non-verbal exchange followed and lasted for a few. It was like they both knew it was a promise between men, or, perhaps, a promise between two alikes. Ion wiped at his face with his sleeves before letting out a noise that can only be described as something between a mumble and a hoarse whimper.
"M'kay…"
"Okay." Roman smiled, enveloping the boy into a hug once more. It was a moment. A rather pleasant moment.
"So… can we have breakfast now?" the question earned an immediate snort from Roman. He snapped his gaze up to Melanie, just in time as her sister kicked the back of her knees causing her to buckle. "Oi!"
"We're having a moment!" the seven-year-old cried out, hands raised above her head.
"Girls, stop it." Hei held the twins by the back of their collar as they looked ready to start swinging—at least Melanie did. "Sorry about this, Ro."
"Nothing good comes out from that heavy of an air, Hei," joked Roman. "You mind us joining in?"
"Bah, shut it," Hei waved off. "But you might want to fix yourself up. You look like shit."
Roman leaned his body back just enough so that he could see himself in the mirror at the end of the hallway. His hair was a messy bush with a collection of rogue strands going here and there, his signature fringe now looking more a road bump. It was a wonder that Roman didn't forgo shoes or pants or shirt, but that was more due to the fact that he also forgo taking them off last night; there was nowhere that wasn't creased on the latter two now.
"Yeah… I'll go do that."
With some reassuring words, Roman managed to get Ion to let go of the near iron grip his arms had around Roman's neck; that no, Roman's not leaving him, he just needs to freshen up and that Ion should just stay here for a bit, but in the end Ion still waddled next to Roman as he made their way back, a firm grasp at the fabric of Roman's pants. Hei stayed at the back of the group. the twins now walking side-by-side next to Ion; one was even kind enough to commentate on things for him.
Well… commentate…
"I fell down those stairs a couple of times. Not nice." She pointed to a wall to their right. "There used to be a dent there because I smacked it with my face. It's brick now but I'm pretty sure it was drywall."
This continued until they reached Roman's temporary lodgings and even after he finished fixing himself up—his clothes were beyond help at the moment, but at least with some waterwork his hair returned to be somewhat presentable—and moved on to where their breakfast would be had.
When nearing the elevator: "A reeeally pretty vase used to be here once, but Melanie pushed me into it a long time ago."
"I did not!" her sister complained.
"You were the one pushing the cart!"
Hilarity ensues.
A table was already prepared for them in the hotel's restaurant, secluded from the guests. A booster seat was already there; for Ion, presumably. It was only here that a thought reached Roman: Hei must've gotten the kids something to eat last night and Roman meant to ask. He had to know if Ion would temporarily lodge with him. Porridge? Wait. Babies usually eat those, don't they? One of those biscuits? Hang on, those are also a baby thing. Ion's, what, a toddler? What the hell do toddlers eat?
"The usual for me and the twins. And just get him what he had last night."
"Sorry. What exactly did he have last night?" asked Roman in a beat.
"Mashed potatoes with roast beef and cream gravy," stated Hei before sipping on his orange juice. "Fancy, I know."
Do two-year-olds eat that?
"Two-year-olds eat that?"
"Oh, yeah. Anything soft, really." Hei chuckled and ruffled one of the twins' hair. "Miltia here wanted nothing but yoghurt and pancakes when she was Ion's age."
"And now I've reached enlightenment!" she proclaimed with a raised fist. "The enlightenment of waffles."
"'Enlightenment,' huh? Now that's a new word," Roman quietly commented, drawing out a huckle from his friend. "Did you learn that in Riverbank, Millie?" Miltia gave out a hum with each nod.
"Pancakes are still softer when hot than waffles…" came the counterargument from Melanie.
"But you see, dear sister, waffles won't lose their crispy texture for a long time…"
This discourse was peak entertainment as they awaited their orders. The men watched on in amusement—Ion more in confusion—as the debate took a borderline philosophical turn. Philosophical, in this sense, as in utter rubbish.
"Hey, Rome," the intensity of the tone pulled his attention away from the twins' bickering. Hei propped his elbows on the table, fingers entwined under his chin. Roman gave him a look over before leaning closer to Hei. "We need to talk about Woods. Later," it came out as a murmur that Roman nodded to. The two men glanced over to the kids as if making sure they were still distracted, only for their hardened and stoic scowls to slip back into relaxed smiles as the food arrived.
The children immediately began eating. Melanie and Miltia rather ravenously at that, while Ion seemed to methodically get equal amounts of mashed potato and roast beef with every plastic spoonful. His tail happily beat against the back of the chair with a barely audible thump.
Roman dabbed the boy's cheek with a napkin when he managed to get gravy over. "Is it good?"
"Hm, hm." The boy nodded with each.
A tranquil mood returned to the table as they all began to eat, only accompanied by the unintelligible chattering of the restaurant's other patrons outside their private room and Miltia telling Ion stories of her exploits—her own words, which is just the amount of time she managed to steal snacks from the kitchens, really.
"Yeah, the pound cake wasn't very good."
"Pun cake," muttered Ion as he spooned mashed potatoes into his mouth
"It was a messed up cheesecake and you know it!"
"No it—!"
"Sirs, Miss Politan is here," the maître d intruded.
Most turned their attention to the doorway where a familiar mop of tri-coloured hair peeked into the room; its owner smirked at the other adults. She strode over to the table after silently thanking the attendant that took her coat and parasol.
"Hi, Neo!" greeted Miltia and Melanie, the latter more out of character than usual.
Ion finally took notice of the new arrival; curious indigos meeting intrigued heterochromics halfway across the room. And as Neo got closer and closer, an anomaly followed. It was like a miasma, this dark grey cluster of smoke roughly in the silhouette of a person hovering off the floor just behind her.
A/N: This was supposed to be up an hour ago but something came up. Sorry about that.
I heard that some of the new RWBY episodes are going through tonal and thematic crisis. What's new, eh? Great memes though.
Next chapter out on 30 April 2023.
Thank you for reading, and 'till next time!
