Stepping out of his car Roman Torchwick was ecstatic. Thrilled even.

Giddy might be too strong.

A light thunderstorm had rolled in, with the rain having become a drizzle. Occasional cracks of thunder would illuminate the night sky.

Looking up at the dilapidated warehouse, the windows shattered with boards placed over them, Roman decided to not get annoyed at the fact that he could see lights inside. Not tonight, at least.

'Decorum Roman,' he thought, suppressing his grin into a more dignified smirk as he walked up to one of his underlings. Their red sunglasses glinting under the light of a nearby streetlight.

"Where is she," Roman asked. Hell, he wanted to sing the question, but that would be excessive.

The underling, Roman had no idea what his name was, shuffled under his gaze. "She's… uh… inside," he said looking down.

"Exceptional! Very well, let us go talk to the brat," Roman said, lifting his cane to point the way. Roman allowed himself a little grin. Just for a few seconds.

Stepping inside, underling in tow, Roman said over his shoulder, "So, where did you guys put her?"

"Uh… she… uh—"

"Spit it out. I do have other things I need to do," Roman said, rolling his eyes at the stuttering idiot.

"She's in the dining area…"

Roman changed directions, walking down one of the empty aisle, his face scrunching up in confusion. "Why the hell did you idiots put her in the kitchen?" 'Seriously, could've put her anywhere else.'

"Uh… well you see sir… we…"

"Shut up. It doesn't matter."

Roman led the way through the barren warehouse, the sound of rain hitting the metal roof filling the silence between them. He noted a strong draft in the building, another sign of the neglected state of the building. Some of the overhead lights worked without problem, but others flickered. Most didn't even turn on.

Standing at the double doors to the dining area Roman straightened his white jacket. He then adjusted his bowler hat. Taking one final deep breath he put on his best smug smirk and threw open the double doors.

The blue haired freak with the armor was eating from a pint of ice cream.

His ice cream.

A loud crack of thunder shook the building.

Roman's right eye twitched.

She stared back at him, spoon in her mouth, expression blank.

A million different thoughts raced through Roman's mind. Among them, however, one stood out.

Rushing forwards Roman snatched the pint of ice cream out of the filthy thief's hands. "How dare you touch my rocky road!"

The girl stared back at him with the same blank expression, spoon still in her mouth.

'Wasn't her armor black?'

"Sir…"

Reeling around, ice cream secured in his hands, Roman glared at the buffoon. "You have one chance to explain."

'Damnit, her spit was on that spoon,' he internally lamented, looking down at the half-eaten pint. He had been looking forward to that ice cream all day.

"We… uh… we didn't force her to come here," the man said, stumbling over his own words.

"Then how did you get her here, and why was she eating my ice cream!"

"I… uh… just asked her to come with us and she said 'sure'. She, uh, didn't want to put on handcuffs, and wanted to eat something."

Roman deeply and truly wanted to shoot him.

He took a deep breath.

"And why did you let her," he said through gritted teeth, pointing at the girl, who was still silently watching the two of them with a spoon in her mouth.

"Because when we tried to cuff her she, uh, knocked out five of our guys and just walked in here anyway."

Roman turned abruptly to the girl.

"And you!"

She gave him a small wave.

"You steal from my men, get them arrested, interfere with my plans, incessantly call me with stupid questions, and now you eat my ice cream!" he roared.

The girl tilted her head slightly and removed the spoon from her mouth.

"Who are you?", the girl asked in a monotone.

The brat who he had been dealing with for the past month never spoke in a monotone.

Stepping back Roman took a closer look at her.

The eyes and hair were the same, a deep shade of blue. The armor however was different. Stylistically, it was the same as the brat's armor, with a dark undersuit and armored plates with curved lines, but that was where the similarities ended. The girl in front of him was wearing white plates interspersed with gold and didn't have that fashion disaster of a black rag covering her torso.

Her expression was also strange. Normally when she called him the brat had some version of a grin or smirk; this girl's face was completely blank save for her slightly raising an eyebrow at him.

Roman sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I am Roman Torchwick. We've met," he said, exhausted. "Why is your armor white?"

"What color did it use to be," she asked in the same flat tone.

"Black."

The girl raised her eyebrow slightly again. "Wasn't me."

Without another word Roman walked over to a drawer, grabbed a spoon, and started eating his ice cream. He needed to feel something reminiscent of a positive emotion right now.

He was far beyond caring that she had been eating out of it earlier.

"What do you mean that 'wasn't you'", he asked before going in for another bite.

She shrugged. "That wasn't me. Was a version of me."

Roman collapsed into a chair by a metal table, contemplating his sanity. "What does that even mean!?", he stated. Roman Torchwick does not whine.

She tilted her head again. "I don't understand."

He put his head down on the cool metal surface of the table. "Neither do I!" He could hear her standing up and walking over to him as he ate what remained of his ice cream, head against the table.

Roman felt her patting him on the back. "There, there," she said in the same flat tone, her pats stiff and awkward.

Roman shot to his feet, metal chair shooting out from under him and clattering to the concrete floor. "That's it! I'm making this make sense," he shouted, mostly to himself.

"You," he said, pointing at the girl with his cane, Melodic Cudgel, "are the twin of the brat who has been bothering me for the last month!"

The girl shrugged.

'Finally, something that makes sense!'

"You also are here because you dislike your sister for some familial reason and want to join my gang to get back at her," he declared, this time pointing his spoon at her. He waited for her to correct him just so he could finally get some answers.

"Sure."

Roman's smile faltered, spoon dropping from his outstretched hand, as he slowly turned to look at the girl. "What."

She shrugged again. "Sure. Sounds fun."

'She has to be bluffing,' Roman thought, not believing for a second that this girl really wanted to join his crew to get back at her sister. Roman, however, knew exactly how to call her bluff.

Smirking Roman pointed at his underling, the one who had been standing there this entire time awkwardly. "If you are serious about wanting to join my illustrious crew, then kill him," he said.

'I can at least learn something from her refus—'

Roman's eyes widened when he saw the girl raise her hand at the man. Acting on reflex he smacked her hand with Melodic Cudgel. A moment later a bright white bolt flew from her palm, barely missing the man's face before passing through the thin metal wall of the warehouse. The hole it left was white hot.

The sound of the man's sunglasses hitting the stone floor filled the room, half the frame melted just from the near hit. He fell over, holding onto his face in pain from the extreme heat of the bolt.

"What the hell is wrong with you!", Roman shouted at the girl.

She turned to look at him, tilting her head again. "You said to kill him."

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!"

The girl blinked. "Oh." She turned to the man still howling in pain on the floor.

Another thundercrack shook the building.

"Sorry," she said before looking back at him.

Roman glanced at the girl, who was still staring up at him. He then glanced at the man, still writhing on the floor. Roman made a decision.

"I'm going to bed. If you're here tomorrow, fine. If not, fine," he said before walking out, leaving the girl and the crying henchman to sort things out amongst themselves.

He had hoped that the previous night had just been a bad dream. A nightmare that gripped him tight, dredged up by his stress.

Waking up on a dingy mattress at one of his hideouts was the first sign that this wasn't the case.

The second sign was the girl sleeping on the floor across from him.

Currently, Roman had a cup of coffee in his hand after eating some sandwiches that were prepared for him. They were alright.

Walking over to the sleeping girl Roman lightly kicked her in the side. "Wake up."

She slowly opened her eyes at his prodding. Standing up with a quiet yawn she turned and looked up at him without saying a word.

"Follow me, you're answering some questions," he told her before walking away. He could hear her following.

Passing through the double doors back into the dining area Roman simply pointed at the table with his cane while taking a sip from his coffee. 'Needs more sugar.'

The girl quietly walked past him and sat at the table before turning to stare at him.

Resting his cane on the table Roman took the seat opposite her before taking another sip of his incomplete coffee. It was his third cup that morning.

The hideout had run out of sugar.

"Let's start slow," Roman said. "What's your name."

"Saffre."

'Finally. A straight answ—'

"My name is actually Zeffre, but another me was here first so I changed it to Saffre."

Roman took a large gulp of coffee. "Shut up, your name is Saffre now," he told her. This conversation was going to make sense.

Saffre nodded her head.

"Alright Saffre," he said, reclining into his seat. "How old are you?"

Saffre stared at him silently for a few seconds before shrugging.

He could feel his eye wanting to twitch.

"You're nineteen," he told her. She looked about nineteen.

She nodded. "Okay."

'Just roll with it.'

Roman sighed. "Final question. Why do you want to join my crew?"

"I like your uniforms," Saffre stated.

"Please tell me there is more to it than that," Roman almost begged.

She shrugged. "You're entertaining."

Roman put down his coffee mug and grabbed his cane. He gripped it in both hands sideways before leaning his head on it. "Will you do whatever I say," he said, resigned to accept whatever this was.

She immediately nodded.

Roman Sighed. "Fine. Whatever."

Saffre was staring at his coffee.

Without a word Roman rolled his eyes and pushed the half empty mug over to the girl with his cane. He was done with it anyway.

She immediately took the offered cup sipped, shrugged, and continued drinking.

"That's gross kid."

Saffre simply glanced back at Roman before continuing to drink the remainder of his coffee.

Author's Note:

I have discovered the italic's button. That is all.