Hello, and welcome to Risk of Rain! This is my take on how Neo met Roman. This is, of course, purely speculation, since nothing is really confirmed about them. There might be some hints of romance, Neo is...well, you'll see, and Roman himself will be a bit less flamboyant, as I had to explain a bit of what I think might be his backstory, too. Nothing, further, enjoy! - Darthkvzn

Roman Torchwick used to be defined as a nice guy. Really, he still was, even if his line of work might make him seem like the bad guy. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

There was a time, though, when Roman worked for the good guys. His unique skillset was on par with those of budding huntsmen, his combat prowess certainly gifted. As a kid, he'd never had all that much. Lacking a father, any siblings, and mostly devoid of Lien, his beloved mother and him had had a tough time during his early years.

As his abilities developed and became noticeable, he gained the attention of Vale's talent seekers, and eventually gotten a shot at studying at Signal Academy, with a full scholarship. He'd fit in well, as his natural charisma, charm and quick wit had spared him the cruel laughter he'd received years past due to his place at the bottom of society. He'd vowed early on never to let that get to him, preferring to use his sharp tongue to his advantage, turning the derisive comments against his would-be attackers.

Life, though, was far from fair. And thus, eventually, his new "friends" had discovered his house one day, in the slums of a town nearby Vale.

He'd lost all those friends, that day. And his place at the Academy. The beaten up schoolmates had made sure of that.

So he'd taken Melodic Cudgel, his recently forged weapon-cane, kissed his loving mother goodbye, and set out to put his skills to the test...for a slightly less noble, and certainly more illegal goal.

Roman was no ignorant, he'd known about his problem for a very long time. It had started innocently enough; a candy bar here, a pound of sugar there. With such a hard monetary situation, it's what he'd had to do to ensure their survival. People would say he stooped to that level; Roman would say they'd never had the chance to be in another. But he'd always tried to do something nice to...compensate for his deeds. And though his thieving habits became a commonly known fact, the neighbors and shopkeepers decided to turn a blind eye to his developing kleptomania.

His mom knew about it, too. But her work did not provide enough to cover basic services, let alone their nourishment. So they'd developed a routine, where she pretended to scold him every time he stole, he pretended to be sorry about it, and she gave him a speech about how he shouldn't be a thief. Then they'd eat.

He needed little to survive, as a result. However, he wanted more. So he set out into the main city in the Kingdom of Vale. He'd had three years of huntsman training, so he knew how to infiltrate, how to avoid detection. Even with his bright orange hair, he knew how to go unnoticed. The blessings of being the runt of society. He made friends. He gained contacts, and information. He intimidated where he couldn't charm, and he humiliated those that wouldn't budge even then. He had no intention of becoming a crime boss then. Too noticeable. He kept to the shadows, as that was vital to his new line of work: being a master thief.

Having experienced poverty, he knew just his ideal target. The rich. Those in control. The government officials who had their balls and great dinners, while people died of hunger, or out of a lack of protection against the creatures of Grimm. And so he stole, to his heart's content. A third of the bounty for him, another for his mother, and the last he gave away. He knew why he did it. It reminded him of the dynamic he had with his loving mother. He did the crime, but not the time, so that was his way of keeping himself balanced. With the universe or whatever.

Such was his lifestyle for the next 5 years or so. He'd become very rich. Enough to bribe law enforcement on a regular basis, more than the rich people he still stole from. He'd kept the habits, of course. More as a hobby, than anything else. It wouldn't do to have the title of Master Thief, and not keep up with the updated security systems, now would it?

Tonight's target was one of the less ambitious ones. Mother had fallen ill, and so he needed to set up a fund for her expenses. The mansion he was targeting was enormous, but the owners were...eccentric. They had no staff to speak of, their security systems were almost non-existent, and it was rumored within the scientific community that they were fond of performing...experiments. He was wary, of course. For all he knew, they had pet Beowolves guarding, or Nevermores nesting on the rafters.

He'd stopped trying to conceal himself, preferring to indulge himself in flamboyant dressing and presentation. When before he'd used black bodysuits and covered his face, now he wore a white suit and a cocky smile. Descending upon the roof of the house, he found a window to the attic half open. Rookie mistake, he scoffed. You just didn't allow that, these days. Maybe they really didn't give a damn about their safety? He entered the house, and he noticed the attic was lit. A starkly decorated bedroom, from the looks of it. There was a full body mirror in front of a simple brown bed with pink sheets. Not what he expected from such a rich house. The bed looked unmade...which meant someone did live here, and he had to move, fast. It was past midnight, so the occupant of this room must've gone for a glass of water or something like that. He hid in the rafters, making sure not to move too much, and to be silent with his breathing.

He was getting bored...until the door opened. In walked a very, very small figure. A girl, by the looks of it. Now Roman wasn't one to be embarrassed by...well, anything. But the girl was wearing nothing but a couple of towels, one for her head, and one for her body. The girl was uncharacteristically silent. He'd expected her to at least make some sound. That made things even more complicated. He narrowed his eyes as much as possible, trying to avoid seeing anything he wasn't meant to. Who knew how old the girl was. He'd stick his criminal record to stealing, thank you very much. The girl got rid of her head towel, and he was baffled. The girl had pink and brown hair, parted down the middle. It was very long, almost to her hip.

Color in Remnant was extremely important. After the war, the need to express had permeated society. He was proud of his own, bright orange hair. He wore a mix of dark and bright clothing because that's how he felt himself. Not bad, but certainly not good, either. He wondered what this girl in particular wished to express with her choice in colors.

That is, until she dropped the other towel.

To his credit, he only caught the smallest glimpse of the girl's lower bare back. He averted his eyes as soon as he could. From what he did see, the girl was unlikely to be underage, albeit barely. He heard some rustling, so he risked a peek. The girl had put on what seemed to be a short white nightgown. She sat at a desk and began to fiddle with a long object. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be a parasol, pink in color. If Roman had been interested before, he was a lot more, now.

After about five minutes of whirring sounds, the girl got up, and went to bed. It was then that he saw her eyes...her pupils matched her hair color. Pink eye under the pink side, and brown eye under the brown side. He was tempted to just come down and talk with her...but the job came first. Five minutes later, and after making sure the girl hadn't caught him or stirred, he made his move. He exited her room as stealthily as possible, and got to work. There was a locked set of doors, down one flight of stairs. He left that until the end. Going down farther, he started taking anything that seemed valuable. Golden statuettes of Grimm, jewels encrusted in larger statues and on the frames of paintings. He might've been eccentric, but he lived in a very sparsely decorated loft. No need to...exude wealth, even if he did have it.

Doing a last sweep of the house (even picking up a fancy looking black bowler hat) he stopped at the locked doors. He already had quite the treasure, enough for his fence to provide a good enough fund for her mother. He probably should get out with what he had already, but his instincts took over. He picked the lock, and entered the room.

The room was pitch black...and smelled strongly of iron. That had his nerves on end. It seemed to be a big bedroom, as he had imagined. The owners of the mansion probably lived here. He pulled a monocle looking thing from his pant pocket. The lens gave the wearer the ability to see as well as a Faunus in the dark, perfect for Special Forces personnel...and thieves.

He wished he hadn't put it on, though.

The scene he now bore witness seemed straight out of a horror film, because in the massive bed in the middle of the room, were two bloody corpses.

Holy Dust, he thought. What have I just gotten into?

What did you think? Good? Bad? Meh? Cat's out of the bag, now. I think Neo is a psychopath, and I'll be playing with that idea a lot. I also think Roman is...well he's no hero. He has a bit of goodness in him. Just a little, really. I'd appreciate reviews, as I'm still very new to this and I wish to improve :D expect more soon-ish! - Darthkvzn