Snow fluttered down from the sky in sedate, swaying patterns. Clumping up on the ground until nearly everything stationery across Vale was covered in a fine layer of sparkling white snow. The rising moon cast an almost ethereal blue among the rooftops as the lights lining the roads flickered to life, blanketing the streets in a dull orange.

The streets were relatively bare; with many of the figures shuffling toward the warmth of their homes, while others lingered in the shadows of alleyways, waiting for their moment. The air around them was tense and silent as a group looked back and forth, waiting for the streets to clear. One figure stood out from the rest with confidence, his face gently cast in the glow of the cigar he puffed on.

"Don't be so tense, gents! This is just a test drive to make sure you'll work out," the man in the hat laughed, turning to his compatriots who stood hunched and nervous. "If we get out with anything, I'm considering it a win. So just relax and follow my lead."

With that, the man in the hat swaggered off without looking back, assured that his team would follow his lead. He moved forward with determination in his gait toward a Dust shop that loudly advertised its all-night opening on its glass. Not wanting to be left behind, his group scrambled after him hurriedly, fearing punishment.

Reaching the store's door the man in the hat paused to take in the name frosted onto the door, 'Sandman's Dustery', before he pushed inside, spinning his cane as a flourish and then bringing it back to the ground to his front to announce himself.

The one sitting at the counter could best be described as a boy. He was a portly fellow with a round face that brought baby fat to mind. He was dressed casually, a green shirt and silver shorts. In his hands he held a magazine that he flipped through absentmindedly. Despite his customer's theatrics he continued to disinterestedly read.

The man in the hat waited a moment for the cashier to look up, expecting a gasp of recognition or even awe. However, seconds ticked by, and by the time the rest of his group entered, his patience was gone. He stalked up to the counter, loudly clearing his throat and throwing his best annoyed glare at the young man in front of him

"Huh!?" The unaware teen gasped, startled. With a furrowed brow, he looked up at Roman, mouth open to speak. But once he took in the man before him, his face simply froze, turning deathly white, and realization flickered across his features. Never had he expected that he'd be robbed on shift, let alone by Roman Torchwick, Thief Extraordinaire.

"Thereeee we are! Now, Skipper, I know you're a little star-struck by little old moi," Roman said theatrically, throwing his left hand out in an embellished swing ending with his hand over his chest. "But I have to insist that you stay seated and stay vewy, vewy, quiet! This is, in fact, a robbery. My friends and I will liberate you of some of this dirty Dust you don't need, and you'll get a cool story to tell the kiddies at recess, capiche?" Roman smiled down at the boy, trying his best to be charming, though he had a certain edge that couldn't be fully erased.

The cashier's mouth remained open, his lips quivering as he took in the man in front of him, all the while missing the men in hooded uniforms moving around the store, filling containers and bags with Dust of all qualities. With a start, he realized Roman expected him to answer. His jaw shut with a click as he nodded his head as quickly as he could, his hands squeezing the stool he sat on until his knuckles were white.

Roman chuckled at the boy's display and reached across the counter to pat him on the head with a patronizing smile.

"There's a good boy!~ Just sit tight and my pets and I will be out of your life forever." Roman mussed the boy's hair and pulled back, turning to observe his crew at work before releasing an angry curse. "Did none of you damn mutts think to leave a watch out!?" Roman barked out. Stalking to the door to the angry staccato of his cane on the tile floor. Reaching his destination Roman gazed out the glass and his scowl darkened further. "You damn dumb animals!" Roman seethed, glaring out the glass at the approaching figure. A Huntsman had noticed them.

For any regular person, the glass and distance would have rendered the distant Huntsman little more than a blur. But Roman was not a normal person; he had Aura, and in his opinion he was damn good with it, a Huntsman in all but name. He could make out all but the finest details of the Huntsman. He was a man who was in his late teens to early twenties, wearing a green jacket with pale teal trimming wrapped tightly to his muscular, lithe figure. His skin was lightly tanned, Caucasian, and his hair was bright yellow, standing out against the dark of the night, almost glowing in the street light. He wore rather plain jeans with sturdy leather boots that crunched snow underfoot as he marched determinedly to the store. Roman saw what seemed to be a sword sheathed at the Huntsman's hip.

"Though with Huntsmen you never know what to expect. It could turn into a propeller or a cheese grater for all I know." Roman absently mused as he ran over the situation in his head, trying to ensure his crew got out, that they got the goods, and that he wasn't captured, in that order of importance.

"Kid!" Roman yelled suddenly, ignoring the boy's flinch. "There a back exit to this place?" he demanded. When the boy didn't answer quickly enough, Roman pinned him with a radioactive glare, Aura flitting over his green eyes to make them glow. "Now, kid!"

"Ahy-ye-yes!" the boy spat out, shaking like a leaf. "I-its next to the vending machine right there!" he stuck out a trembling hand to point to the threshold in question. The door was painted the same cream color as the rest of the wall and was hidden by the shadow of the machine in question.

Roman stuck his left hand out in a flash and the curtain to the shop's bay windows came rolling down, blocking any view into the building except for the door, which Roman stood framed in.

"Okay. Antler! Glasses! Fluffy Tail! You go out the back and stay out of sight!" Roman stated firmly. He held a hand over his mouth as he ordered to block his lips. "Bear 'n Fish! You're with me! I'm going to open this door and walk out there and you follow. Once you're in the street you bolt in separate direction. Everyone to rendezvous at the drop point." Roman's voice brooked no argument. Once he was done speaking he plastered a roguish grin to his face and yanked the door open and stepped out with an exaggerated swagger. Hurrying to meet the Huntsman without actually looking as though he was hurrying.

Roman stopped to stand roughly twenty feet away from Huntsman, positioned almost exactly in the center of the t-intersection the shop was on. He leaned on his cane to give off a casual air, taking a long drag of the flagging cigar and blowing a smoke into the air.

"Lovely evening ain't it!" Roman asked, his voice not raising above a conversational level. "Snow on the ground, chill in the air. Perfect weather for roasting chestnuts over an open fire right?"

The Huntsman's approach came to an almost stumbling stop. He glanced at Roman with clear confusion before he caught himself and schooled his face into what he probably thought was a threatening scowl, but looked more like a childish pout.

"Roman Torchwick!" The Huntsman shouted out, planting his fists firmly on his hip, though accidentally bumping his sword. "As a licensed Huntsman, I am placing you under arrest! You and your gang will come along quietly and return that Dust to its proper owner."

"As threats go, that's almost as vanilla as it can get. At least he didn't say 'Come out with your hands up!' Or some such hogwash." Roman thought, amused. He hooked his cane on his left forearm and proceeded to dust the accumulated snow off of his shoulders and Hat. With a puff of his cigar and a chuckle he began to speak again. "Ah c'mon. I'm just doing a lil' Holiday shopping with the boys! We're not up to anything nefarious." Roman said sedately, holding his cane in front of himself with both hands, leaning forward. It was at this point that the jingle of the door behind him opening reached the two, followed closely by the crunching of snow as his underlings ran away. "Ah so we're starting."

The Huntsman, Dylan, saw the two figures run from behind Roman. A larger member of the White Fang with a chainsaw strapped to his back ran to the left, carrying a carton full of what Dylan assumed to be portable Dust vials. While running to the left was a much shorter faunus, with bright pink hair spilling from the sides of her hood, she had a carrier's bag that could only have been filled with Dust slung across her shoulder.

Instinctively Dylan bent his knees slightly and his legs tensed as he prepared to run. Though a moment of indecisiveness ran across his mind and stalled his pursuit. Should he run after the giant or the girl? Or should he stay to apprehend Roman. Grabbing him would be a major boost to his reputation and the Giant would be easier to find the streets. But they were carrying Dust and Roman only had his cane, and weren't there more in the sto-

Dylan's indecisiveness cost him, as while he was worried Roman rushed into his guard. In almost a blink, Roman crossed the distance between the two and hooked the head of his cane around Dylan's ankle and pulled back, disrupting the Huntsman's footing and sending him onto his back.

Shock was evident on Dylan's face as Roman suddenly apparated before him and increased to worry as his leg was yanked from under him. However this was much simpler to deal with in terms of choices. When his back hit the ground Dylan threw his legs up and rolled onto his upper back, planting his hands on the ground near his head and pushed himself feet first at the thief in front of him.

Roman saw the kick coming and ducked out of the way, letting Dylan sail over him. Suddenly Roman reached up and grabbed Dylan by the belt and collar. Standing tall Roman took the Huntsman in his hands and slammed him into the ground.

Dylan landed with a bounce, cracking the pavement underneath himself with the force of Roman's slam. His Aura flared, casting the snow in a mint hue. Dylan slowly brought himself onto all fours, a hand moving to clutch his stomach as a groan escaped his lips.

Moments passed and Roman watched Dylan carefully. Coming to the conclusion that he could easily run, Roman spun on his heel and sprang forward. However Roman has underestimated Dylan's speed compared to his own. Dylan's hand reached out and gripped Roman's own ankle like Iron. A surprised Roman fell towards the ground, where a sparkling green emerald sprung from the pavement to jab painfully into his stomach, driving the wind out of him.

Dylan smirked in self satisfaction and hopped to his feet. Standing over Roman who was gasping for breath, Dylan drew his short sword. Holding it in a reverse grip Dylan stabbed down hard, aimed directly at Roman's spine.

Roman drew a ragged breath in taking in the feel of the air pushing down violently on his back. With fist clenched, Roman rolled off the gemstone spike onto his side, lashing out. His ground up cigar ashes flew true at their target, Dylan's eyes. The Young man gasped in pain as the dying ashes scattered into his eyes, the heat and force amplified by Roman's Aura, the impact was painful and completely distracting. Dylan abandoned his sword as it sunk into the road and reached up to furiously wipe at his eyes.

Roman stood with a scowl, dusting his side clean of any snow before rearing his leg back and aiming a kick through the crystal spike and into Dylan's stomach, giving a vicious smirk at the sound of the crystal shattering and Dylan's gasp of pain. He lifted his cane and smacked its head across Dylan's face, knocking him to the ground. Roman smoothed the wrinkles out of his jacket and turned once more to walk away from the downed Huntsman.

Roughly four meters away from his conquered enemy, Roman's senses were ablaze with Danger. Not precognition, but all his senses, enhanced by Aura, working in symphony to take in the world around him and keep him alive and safe. On instinct Roman ducked and pushed his aura to what he believed to be the target. A rush of air brushed past his neck and some unseen projectile whizzed past his head. Roman glanced at his hat, sparkling with residual Aura and crystal powder as it gently floated in the air in front of him.

Furious, Roman turned to glare at his a word he lifted his cane and pointed it at Dylan, the end flipping open to reveal a barrel, and fired. An explosion bloomed in the middle of the street, sending snow spraying in every direction and setting off a few car alarms. There was a slam as Dylan impacted into the building on the opposite side of the street, his Aura flashing before a sound of glass shattering rang out and his Aura fell off of him in dying floating embers.

Satisfied, Roman turned back to his hat and picked it up. Cradling it in his arms and checking it for any damage. Satisfied that it was in perfect shape, he dusted the snow and emerald dust off of it and affixed it to his head. With a single glance back and the Huntsman to confirm he was down, Roman smirked and took off down the street, whistling a jaunty tune.

~~\\_/~~

The door to the warehouse screamed open as it was flung by the most recent entrant. Roman Torchwick swaggered in and looked about the ground floor, surveying all who were there.

"You all made it, good good." Roman nodded and reached into his coat, pulling a cigar free and lighting it to enjoy a good long drag from it. "So you can follow orders well once they're given. I can work with that." Roman sighed and took another drag of his cigar. Walking past the assembled Faunus and up a set of stairs, heading towards the foreman's office. "Everyone drop everything off, get changed, and get out. I want some time to myself."

With that, Roman walked into the office, slamming the door behind him. Without turning the lights on Roman sunk into a ratty looking office chair and let out a sigh. Roman loved publicity and he loved money. However, this Dust wouldn't be sold off for money, or moved for several months. Roman ran a hand down his face and gazed out his window over the warehouse full of stolen Dust and wondered, not for the first time, how he got here... And if he'd live to see the other side of it.


Hello everybody! This' my first fic up basically ever. I've fiddled around with writing in the past and I've enjoyed it. I recently got the itch to try writing a fight scene and this is what came out of it. This is my first attempt at doing such and any advice or critiques anyone has would be welcomed. There won't be a sequel to this (I think.) Though I might bust out more oneshots to try and further refine my fight scene skills seeing as every series I've thought of writing fanfiction for are heavy on combat. Thanks for this goes out to a friend of mine GummiGamer who's OC makes what might be the most oblique cameo ever here. Margaret Okeanos, who's the pink haired girl running right before the fight breaks out. Beyond him I'd also like to thank the lovely people at the Discord Al'Aran, A Coeur Al'Aran fan discord server (Shocker) for giving me the motivation to bang this out and finally post something. And last, and certainly not least, I want to thank my wonderful Beta readers and Best Friends SpicySoulsa and Frosty, for their support and help in not only writing, but everything else. So, until we meet again, aidou.