Roman's Angels

There is nothing in this world that does not exist to be stolen.

Age 7

The first thing he remembered in the beginning of his life was…cold.

It was very cold.

He remembered struggling to survive in the lower levels of Mistral. Sure, Mistral was monastery of beauty, elegance, and art on the outside and on the top of the great mountain of purely white buildings and castles, but it still fostered a bad underbelly in the lower levels and deep inside the mountain the kingdom was built into. He was just one of many nameless orphans who were left abandoned on the street for one reason or another.

Maybe his parents had foolishly stolen from a gang and were killed as an example.

Maybe they were once gang members, even leaders of their own gang that were eventually taken out by rivals.

Maybe they just decided he was dead weight and dumped in a lousy orphanage.

In the long run, it didn't matter. He was alive, they were not, and he planned to live a lot longer than they likely had.

He just needed…

That was the last thought he had before he collapsed on the ground in the middle of the street, too cold and hungry to move.

Guess he wouldn't make it out after all.

"I will do what I do best: lie, cheat, steal and survive!"

"So, any luck?" He managed to hear a voice speaking.

Who was that?

"I'm afraid he was abandoned at a rundown orphanage that he was apparently kicked out of for stealing and instigating fights."

He was sure he heard that voice from somewhere before.

"So, he's troublemaker?" Another voice spoke in disapproval.

Oh, great.

More adults trying to set an example for him.

"Aren't all children troublemakers at a young age?"

Well, he can't speak for all kids like himself.

"So… what will we do with the laddie?"

Do with him?

"We'll take him with us."

Wha?

"Wha? Boss, no offense but we never allow outsiders to our village for good reason."

Village?

Well, sounds better than going back to that crappy orphanage.

"He's just a boy who has been abandoned and doesn't remember anything. I doubt he even remembers his own name."

Ouch.

"We can't just leave a child in that Brother's forsaken place they call an orphanage."

Hell yeah.

"So, what do you think…boy?"

He opened his eyes and looked at the group of adults surrounding him. He sat up, seeing he was lying on a wooden cart.

"You feel like risking a chance on some strange adults or would you rather take a chance back on the snowy streets where we found you?" The lead adult asked. "By the way, my name is Bartleby Brunswick."

"…Roman."

"The real world is cold. The real world doesn't care about spirit."

Age 13

Life in the Brunswick village was…peaceful.

He had a roof over his head, food was good, and no one was beating him into the ground for whatever goods he might have. The people here were good and nice to him which was something he was not used to and for the most part he had nothing to complain about.

Ahhh….

Well, there was one thing to complain about.

The well.

Every time he walked past that well, there was something…Sounding like an eerie noise that he was sure was coming from the bottom of the well. He had brought it up a few times but every time he did, Bartleby waved him off, saying he was imagining things.

Idiot adults.

He knew enough from living on the streets in Windpath to know that a strange noise was almost always trouble.

He walked out towards the well when he was sure no one was looking and looked down.

Darkness.

He couldn't even see the water down there, even though there should be a stream of water from the underground stream.

Ahhh….

There it was.

That strange unnatural sound.

He knew it was real.

And so was the chill that came from hearing it.

"Roman!"

He perked up, turning to see the village Huntsman standing behind him. He never bothered to figure out the man's name but he was good for something.

"Come on. We got time for a few lessons."

Like a little bit of training.

Sure, it was a hassle, but having been left on the streets of a Mistral for a while, long enough to engrain how much it sucked in his mind, a little training from a professional Huntsman was not a bad idea. Already the man had unlocked his Aura, and he was now doing a little training with a rifle.

A rifle that doubled as a bayonet.

"A far-out village would normally be perfect prey for Grimm. Luckily the cold weather makes it that most Grimm avoid villages as far out as this one." The Huntsman said as he led Roman through the woods. "Still, it never hurts to go on patrol and make sure that nothing unexpected sneaks up on us."

"A pack of wild Grimm…Say, would they be able to hide in the village well?" Roman asked curiously.

"How could they get in the village and without us knowing and why would they hide in the well?" The Huntsman asked.

"That well is over a tunnel." Roman pointed out dryly. "How do we know Grimm aren't crawling down there?"

"Even if there were, the tunnel is seal off aside from the cave entrance where the stream is." The Huntsman answered. "What are the odds Grimm would find the cave and make their way through the underground stream?"

Roman stifled a sarcastic response.

He felt that the Huntsman was really being lax in his duties to protect the village, especially when he wouldn't consider that maybe Grimm wouldn't stumble upon the cave entrance to the underground stream.

"Now, let's focus." He handed his rifle to Roman and pointed forward. "Take a look."

Roman looked through the scope and spied a small Grimm pack. He was about to pull the trigger when the Huntsman suddenly stopped him.

"Wha-"

"There's no need to kill them. They're not coming our way but if you fire, they'll sense your intent to kill them. Other Grimm might sense us and follow us back after this pack is taken out." The Huntsman explained.

Well…that was actually a very good reason not to pull the trigger.

"Come on, we still need to bring some firewood back to the village."

"It's not what I have to gain. It's that I can't afford to lose."

Age 15

"So that's your Semblance."

He stared, seeing the pile of logs that were floating in mid-air after they had threatened to fall over on him. He had accidently tripped in front of the pile, causing the logs to start falling and he would have been buried alive as he shouted and raised his hands.

Only the logs didn't fall.

He looked up and saw they were all glowing orange, suspended in mid-air as the Huntsman pulled him out of the way. As soon as he did, the orange aura surrounding the logs disappeared and the logs fell onto the ground where he had been.

His Semblance…

That was his Semblance.

He did that.

"Looks you can freeze things for a certain amount of time." The Huntsman observed as they practiced. "It looks to be very handy."

It sure did.

"Any idea what to call it?"

He considered it. "What do you think I should call it?"

"Well, it seems to freeze what you touch, so possibly some sort of…Time Freeze?"

Really?

That was the best he could offer?

"Hey, don't give me that look. I'm not the best at naming things, I get it."

He looked at his hand and considered what he should call his Semblance.

Let's see…

It causes objects he touches to freeze, though without the cold and ice.

The objects he used his Semblance glowed orange.

Frozen in time, like a clock suddenly stopping.

"Clock…"

And glowing orange.

"Orange." He uttered aloud. "Clockwork Orange."

The Huntsmen raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're calling it?"

"Fits perfectly for some reason." He said with a shrug. "Short, to the point and sounds almost poetic in a way."

The Huntsman shrugged. "Your Semblance, your call."

He observed the Huntsman, noting the strange distant look on his face.

Strangely, almost everyone had the same look on their faces today.

Especially those who walked past the well.

"We'll call it quits for today, Roman. I got to see Bartleby about something." The Huntsman simply said, turning around and walking towards the Brunswick house.

Roman stared for a moment, an uneasiness falling over him.

Something was not right.

No, something was really not right with the entire village.

He quickly headed for the Brunswick house, following the Huntsman in and headed upstairs towards his room. He immediately closed the door and started gathering all of his personal things, placing them in a brown backpack that he then immediately closed. Once he was all packed, he opened the door and looking around, feeling nervous from the eerie silence. He walked over to the other room where Bartelby's daughter was supposed to be. She always been nice to him, treating him as an actual brother even though they were not related. A sweet girl, enough for him to consider warning her that she needed to run.

Only when he opened the door, he saw her lying on her bed.

Eyes closed.

Skin pale with a hint of frost.

He walked closer to her, taking a good look to see if she was still breathing.

No, he knew she wasn't breathing even before he reached her.

He noticed her favorite doll lying on the floor next to the bed. He gently knelt down, picking it up and placing it in her hands. He turned to the doorway, softly closing it and then headed downstairs. He checked Bartleby's study, but he wasn't there. He checked the kitchen and the living room first before he checked the bedroom.

Sure enough, Bartleby was there with his wife, not looking like they had woken up at all.

The chill from before was even stronger now and he knew he had to get out of here.

He headed for the door and walked out, never looking back.

"I've never been happy, and I expect I never will. But that doesn't mean I'm going to try to stop buying happiness."

Here he was.

Back on the streets with just his personal things, a rifle he had taken from the farms before he had left and now, he was back on the streets. He managed to catch a ride back to the very kingdom he had been scavenging to survive on, only to be given a small chance at a normal life when Bartleby had taken him back to the farms.

At the very least, he was bigger, stronger and smarter now.

The market was bustling with activity as he walked through the crowds. He eyed the food stans, remembering that he had used up all the provisions he had gathered at the farms on his way back to the kingdom. The Brunswick farms had been far out from Mistral to the point he had been surprised he had even made it back.

If not for the Huntsman who helped him…

Roman shook his head, knowing he couldn't be distracted now.

He was back in the kingdom.

Now he needed to find a roof to live under, preferably a roof with a bed.

Growl…

But first, he needed to find some food if the growling of his stomach was any indication. Unfortunately, he didn't have any lien on him. He had used them all up to pay the owner of the carriage who smuggled him back into the kingdom.

Meaning he had to resort to…other methods.

He carefully looked around, spying the crowd. No matter how nice the place looks, there were always a few pit pockets that stood out.

And sure enough, a small kid probably around the same age as him could be seen stealing some man's wallet.

Perfect.

"I want more. I want everything! I want people to know my name."

"Check it out. Got some old guy's wallet."

"Sweet! How much?"

"About…fifty Lien."

"Well, that might help a bit."

"We got to keep it up though. We get enough money, and we can get out of here."

"Got a few to spare?"

The gang, consisting of young adolescents, turned to see someone at the end of the alley, orange hair covering his eyes.

The apparent leader sneered. "Beat it. We don't have handouts."

The boy didn't turn away, instead taking a few steps forward. "Is that a no?"

The leader walked up to the boy. "Yeah, that's a no. Now get lost or we'll beat you down and take anything you got."

The boy looked up, not at all intimidated by the gang as they surrounded him. "Would it help if I ask nicely?"

"That's it. Get-" The punk leader began, grabbing the kid before suddenly an orange light surrounded him and he froze in mid-sentence.

The boy pulled out what looked like a rifle but instead of shooting, he swung it like a club and smashed the end onto the punk leader's face. The other kids rushed to help their leader but as soon they made any sort of contact with the boy, they froze and the boy would beat them down, using the rifle as a makeshift club. The alley was filled with the sounds of the punk gang getting beaten within a near inch of their lives.

The punk leader looked up, his face bloodied and bruised, to see the boy taking the valuables he and his friends had stolen. The rest of the gang lied on the ground, blood and broken teeth littering the ground.

He then looked at the boy as he turned around and walked out of the alley, managing to call out in a hoarse voice. "Who…Who…are you?"

The boy paused before turning around and smiling. "My name is Roman, Roman Torchwick. Tell all your friends that these streets are mine now and that everything you take belongs to me. Be nice and I'll let you keep some for yourself but if you try to steal from me…Remember that."

The boy, Roman Torchwick turned and walked out of the alley, vanishing into the crowds.

"You have to play to your strengths. And if you're lucky, you realize exactly what you want, what you're destined for-and you grab it."

Age 17

"Come back here!"

Two teens, a boy and a girl were running for their lives through the alley as a pair of older men chased after them. Both teens were holding a handbag, filled likely with money and other goods that they had stolen from the men chasing them.

They had just rounded the corner when…

"GAH!" Both men suddenly frozen, having been about to run over someone who had been in their way.

"I see you two brought back some unwanted company." The man said, tilting the hat he was wearing up to get a better look at the two men he had frozen with his Semblance.

"Roman!" The male teen said with relief.

In the two years that had passed, Roman Torchwick would make a name for himself on the lower levels of Mistral. Having been trained by a Huntsman, surviving both on the streets and the wilderness, Roman would quickly take over the local gangs and organize them. Well, as organized as groups of kids and teens banding together for mutual survival could be considered organized.

"I've told you guys plenty of times, never steal from anyone bigger than you unless you're sure you know how to lose them." Roman grunted, swinging his cane with such force he broke the legs of the two pursuing men who screamed in agony once Roman's Semblance had been dismissed.

"AAH!" They fell to the ground, clutching their legs.

"But since you've brought these two suckers before me, I guess we can see what they might have." Roman remarked with a small smile before he tapped his cane on the forehead of one of the men. "Agree to let us have whatever you got, and I'll be so kind not to bash your heads in."

"You little…punk." The man grunted. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

"Right now, I'd say I'm dealing with two men, on the ground, their legs broken and are not particularly bright considering they are wasting my time instead of giving me what I so nicely asked for." Roman rolled his eye.

"We're Spiders, working for Lil' Miss Malachite!" The other man cried out. "She lives all the way in the capital but once she hears what you've done, she'll come and kill you all!"

"Well, that's only if she finds out what happened to the two of you." Roman pressed the cane on the other man's head. "Haven't you heard the phrase: 'Dead men tell no tales'?"

To signify his point, a reticle was raised at the base of the cane while a muzzle was uncovered, showing that the cane doubled as a gun. The two men paled, realizing what could happen to them.

"Like it? I stole the cane but a friend owed me a favor, so they had it converted into this for me." Roman said slyly.

"Wa-Wait-Wait!" The men raised their hands. "We didn't mean anything; we were just trying to get our stuff back."

"And rightfully, considering we only take things of value." Roman replied with a chipper smile. "Still waiting for you to give me a reason to let you live."

"We-We can work for you! We know a lot of things in the capital, especially in the upper districts."

"Tempting…" Roman tapped his chin. "But you could also be waiting to sell us out to your boss when you're back on your feet. So…no thanks."

"Wa-Wait!"

BANG-BANG!

Roman turned away from the bodies, facing the two chumps he had for subordinates. "What you got better be worth the trouble."