A/N: This story will be exactly twelve chapters (excluding both the prologue and epilogue) for this story. If needed, I may change plans but for now, everything is outlined and yes, the ending is established.

Will there be a sequel? It's too early to say, but I've been asked. For now, no. Do the chapter titles hint at the ending? Sorta, depending on how you depict them.

Thank you for all the feedback, favorites and follows! This is close to hitting 100 followers- an incredible feat that I've never accomplished. I've been super busy lately, i'm a hospital surgeon teen volunteer sorta thing and ahhh, I've been busy! I'll come around to further edit this chapter!

a deck of cards

chapter 04: the eights went crazy

"Look! There's more!"

A sigh drawled from his lips, hands shoved into the pockets of his grey hoodie. The King of the Underground was, to say the least, severely underdressed in comparison to his companion. Not that he minded, he was grateful for his choice when he lingered into the streets. Rain poured from the heavens, and his thoughts drifted on pinpointing the culprit for the Gods' anger. He wondered, could it be him? No, he was bad, but not awful-awful.

Roman had only agreed to leave the comforts of his newest apartment- yes, he had bought a new one for fun- to aid Neo in her little science project. She didn't go to school anymore, so he wondered why on Remnant she thought that excuse could work on him.

Deciding to humor the girl, he followed as she hopped in front of him. She held a clear and empty jar and there was a twinkle of joy in her mismatched eyes. Pink gloves decorated her arms and a similar color-coded dress followed. Neo did not have an expensive taste (then again, she was eleven) and was more humble when it came to the things she owned. For an eleven year old, Roman strangely feared he had raised Neo to take happiness in a world that was too conflicting.

Life was wonderful, yes. Life was cruel, yes. Life was unfair, yes. Life would end, yes. Yet how could he drill all this depressing information into her young mind and still expect her to squeal when a puppy came on TV? There just wasn't a way!

"Roman!" She called out. "Hurry! I see them!"

Summer had settled into Vale. That meant a lot of things, especially considering how pleasant the weather was. Although humidity sucked and frizzed up his hair (an actual concern for the villain), he fell for the long days of work and the hot nights. Crickets chirped as the sun disappeared, the shattered moon taking its rightful place on its throne. There was a slight breeze and the night felt cool, yet alright. Life was good.

Meanwhile, Neo lived for the ice cream she could eat without Roman frowning at her choices. Granted, she ate the treats anyway during the cold, but at least now Roman did not have to scold her for it. The girl was growing up strong and healthy, partaking in occasional run-ins with the law like every other kiddo her age.

On the other hand, guilt would slip into his system and make him question his choices. It was up to Neo, but she saw him with such intense admiration that the choice was clear. Neo would be the heir to all his criminal antics- and that scared him just a little.

Roman dreamt of a world where Neo, his Neo, went to a combat school. This world was bright and colorful and loving, and his Neo would get accepted into, gosh, Beacon Academy. She'd graduate top of her class and be an honorable huntress with an honorable job, unlike his. Somehow, maybe just maybe, this life of crime would leave her and somehow, even him. Those illusions pained him, mind wandering to his mother's words that he repeated with ease.

"Your life will be nothing like my life." He whistled, a cigarette departing from his lips. "I'm going to do what I have to do."

Mamma Torchwick did not expect him to fall into the grasp of criminals at a young age. Be a hunter, son. Don't be like those kids here, getting a girl pregnant at fourteen and joining a gang. Make me proud.

"Roman! Look! I caught some!" Green eyes looked forward, and Neo held the jar up. It was no longer empty, filled with little green and yellow lights that flew from side to side in a drunken haze. She caught a handful of fireflies and was ecstatic.

"Yes, you did." He ruffled her hair affectionately, making her pout. "You're gonna let them out, right?"

The question made the younger girl tilt her head and mouth a, "Huh?" Facepalming, Roman gently placed a hand on her shoulder and motioned towards the fireflies that graced the night sky.

"Are you in a jar, Neo?"

"No...?" Neo was confused, definitely.

"Then?" He tapped the glass and it clinked. "Let them out later. Don't keep them from their home."

Still confused, she nodded and began to study the jar. Watching her, the realization that he would have to let her go, at some point, dawned upon him. He was basically a single father wrestling a criminal persona and still trying to get the best for his daughter (that wasn't his daughter, but still!) Neo would be free soon, unless she chose not to be.

No, he could not push that on her. She deserved so much better, so, so, much better.

The image of Neo playing with fireflies and releasing them from the jar before they left would remain in her mind. The sadness in her voice as she said goodbye tugged at his heart. He hoped in the future he wouldn't have to hear her be sad at all.

Then the future came and he realized he could at least hear her.

Crazy Eights was another game he enjoyed, admittedly not always. The card game required stealth and speed- tons of it. His concentration would have to be solely in the game for him to win with the incredible ease he bragged about.

Sighing, he shuffled the deck of cards as he heard Red talk, well, type, out instructions to the Malachites. The electronic voice from the scroll could not replace her own childlike one and he aimed to remember how she sounded before her injury. Unamused, he glanced at the trio of females. Green eyes traveled to the scar that ran across her lips, and he tried picturing Red without it.

He wondered how Red had become mute. He doubted it was sickness unless her living conditions were that terrible and he soon retracted that statement because Cinder was a bitch. There was the possibility of it just being a birth defect that later on rolled out. He crossed that one out, figuring it made no sense. Perhaps a serious injury to the head, like Neo had w-

No. He stopped himself, shaking his head and pushing the cards into the pocket of his coat.

"Sorry for interrupting, Red." She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Where is the part that we find Neo?"

"Neopolitan was working with Cinder when I last saw her, hence how I found where you lived."

Wait, Neo knew where he was imprisoned?! Relief swarmed his body but he soon realized that if Neo knew, why didn't she save him? He brought that up to Red, who confirmed one of his ongoing suspicions.

"She can't leave. She's not a prisoner, trust me, but she's unable to leave without endangering you or herself." With that, she turned her back on him and continued explaining to the twins. He wasn't sure what they were speaking of now and when he heard the topic had switched to arriving in Mistral, he decided it was worth paying attention.

So far, they had two options; boarding a ship meant for goods (or bribing them!) or somehow finding a way to sneak into a jet or plane. The latter was shot down by a timid Miltia, which he remembered because she was dressed in a red shirt and black pants, who reminded them that because Cinder ruled with an iron fist, she had heavily enforced security measures on any planes leaving Vale. If she was aware that a plane was coming to their kingdom, she would order for the hijacked Atlesian soldiers to shoot it down.

Boats were easier for travel and were what many had relied on anyway. Melanie, clad in a white silk dress with her hair up in a high ponytail, explained that the trade system in Vale was chaotic. Unable to nourish any actual items for trade, the residents of the commercial district and agriculture district had to come up with anything Cinder wanted, leaving them little to no time to raise crops or produce their own goods. Famine rippled through the area but did not last for a long time. After Cinder and her crew realized dead people equaled fewer workers and not enough soldiers, they figured it was best to allowed them to continue with their ports.

"Boats are a fine idea, Red. We need weapons, though." Roman reminded. "And some pretty good ones, too."

Red had been captured for four years, so he suspected she was unable to expand her battle skills. Quite obvious, the poor girl looked sick and abused. How could she fight? How could she even put up a fight? Not that he could complain, he was inactive as well. If was going to rot in an apartment, why keep up your fighting abilities? There was just no reason to suspect that he'd ever taste freedom again. The Malachites at the moment were the strongest, although he wasn't sure how good they were at fighting. Perhaps they were better (and more competent!) than Junior's excuse of henchmen? Yeah, he could see that.

"Honestly," Quiet Miltia spoke softly, "we can help build your weapons. The process will be faster that way."

"But where? We could use one of those quick weapon shops, but we kind of need more resources."

"Actually, I now just the place." Roman smiled and turned. "Follow me, ladies."

He wasn't sure the old shack in the backyard would help. Hell, he reckoned it was even still standing! It was worth a shot, anything could help right now.

The path to the backyard was induced with nostalgia. He passed the little-torn kitchen where his mom spent her time baking- a distinct passion of hers. She wasn't in it for the flavors or the delicate sweetness, rather she enjoyed decorating and mixing colors. He passed the once ornamented hallways, wooden walls at some point covered from top to bottom in family photographs. The walls were still there, rotting in the inside and covered on the outside. There were silver frames or beaming photos of his parents' wedding or his first birthday.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Red pause. She came to a halt in front of a photograph; a photo of him and his mother in front of a water fountain. He was smiling brightly and holding up a trophy- a science award, he guessed. Intrigue filled her silver eyes and they flew towards him. He turned before their gazes could meet.

Great, Red's brain picked it up.

Roman inhaled the crisp air. It was refreshing, better than the air that suffocated him inside the damned house. Stretching his arms and sighing, he looked at the girls and pointed at a bleak tool shed, drained from the glorious shade of blue it was once drenched in.

"Um, it's a shed." The Girl in White's mouth formed into a frown. "It's a shed, Roman."

"My, you know what a shed is! Excellent eye for architecture, I see!"

Melanie scoffed, blowing a strand of hair off her face and folding her arms over her chest. She tilted her head slightly, mouth twisting into a childish smile. "What? Torchwick still has sarcasm after four years of no activity?"

He couldn't hide his smirk. Oh, the Twin in White was definitely someone he was going to have fun with. She was the opposite of her sister, come to think of it. Miltia was shy and terrified to talk. She would rather stand by her sister's side and just observe. He found that observant behavior of hers to be quite useful. Perhaps she was the one who reasoned and thought of her actions, unlike Melanie who just opened her mouth and talked.

The quiet ones were also dangerous in his experience. Speaking of quiet, he still had the lingering feeling he had to keep tabs on Red. She was smart, no longer naive to the world in front of her and had gone through a drastic change. Who knew where her heart lied, anyway?

"You talk a lot, don't you?" He taunted lightly. "Well, you're certainly a delight, Miltia."

"I'm Melanie!" She snapped, causing Miltia to flinch. "Melanie!"

"Children," A robotic voice cut in. "Not now."

Roman snickered and Melanie stomped her foot on the dirt. Miltia rubbed her head, embarrassed by her sister's tantrum. Red only shook her head, probably appalled by her soldiers' behavior.

Without hesitation, he opened the door to the shed. It was an easy entrance, except for the spiderweb that had been formed at the beginning of the room. Roman saw it and took it to his advantaged, looking at Melanie and bowing.

"After you."

Melanie huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder and raising her head. She wandered in and stepped into the web.

"You fu-" Her screeching filled the air and he winced. Miltia hurried to untangle the web while her sister seethed with rage.

"So, where do we begin?" Red questioned, ignoring the twins' antics. She eyed the shed and made her way to the marble table.

The oldest of the group sighed, pinching his nose and following her. Tools hung on the walls, many rusted over years of humidity and being forgotten. Blueprints were scattered on the floor, bugs roaming on the ground. There was no light except the sunshine that slipped through a dusty window.

Red raised a blueprint, examining the sheet. She placed it down, lightly poking Roman's shoulder and motioning rapidly to the crumpled piece of paper.

It was a draft of a weapon. More specifically, the first design he had made of Melodic Cudgel, back when he was too creative and thought fitting grenades, knives, and a gun into a cane was a good idea. Chuckling, he lifted the blueprint and inspected it further.

"You caught me, Red." He said. "I came to this man once, he helped inspire me to create my lovely Melodic Cudgel. It wasn't as elegant and striking in this draft."

Oh, that man did for me more than I could begin to list.

Red nodded, wiping the counter clean from any dust. She looked at Roman and took out her scroll.

"My uncle inspired me to make Crescent Rose. Its first draft was a mess, he had to explain to me that it was too ambitious for a beginner. But anyway, she turned out lovely."

"How is a scythe and a gun smashed together a beginner's friendly weapon?"

"Point is," Red continued, ignoring his taunt. "First drafts are to always be respected."

Roman snickered. The twins had finally gotten the web completely out of Melanie's hair, so the duo joined them in their talk.

"Will you create your old weapons?" Miltia inquired politely, cautiously looking at Roman.

"Crescent Rose was one of a kind! She took a whole year to create, I can't recreate something as great as her in a week, at most! Besides, in her honor, I refuse to make another copy of her."

"Well, the kid is attached to the oversized weed cutter." Roman drawled. "I, for one, agree. Melodic Cudgel was a beauty. Elegant, fearful, powerful, sturdy- everything. For reasons I choose not to specify, I can't replace it."

"Woah, I'm not that attached to my heels," Melanie muttered, glancing at her shoes. "They don't even have names."

The man gasped dramatically, raising his hands to cover his mouth. "A crime, Malachite! A crime!"

Even Red snickered at that, nodding her head in agreement.

"C'mon, it's just a weapon. Right, Miltia?"

"I like Nemesis." Her twin replied plainly. "He's more than a weapon."

"You named your weapon...wait, why is it a he..?"

"Who doesn't? Even Junior had a name for his. And excuse me, leave him alone."

"You never told me you named your claw and gave it a gender!"

"You never asked."

Grunting, Melanie shook her head and started again. "Then what?"

"We design." Roman answered plainly. "I'll look for some blank sheets and pencils. We'll do this a bit old school."

He was, truthfully, shocked that he recalled where his father stored the rolls of paper. He brought them to the table along with a bin of pencils, sharpeners and erasers. Gently placing everything for everyone's convenience, he fetched a pencil of his own and tapped it against his chin, thinking.

Red had reached for a paper and a pencil. The twins looked awkward, glancing at each other nervously.

"We can't really help with this part." Melanie reasoned. "Sorry."

"No worries, dear." He waved her off. "Go play hide and seek with your sister."

She seemed like she was close to making another comment when Miltia lightly wrapped an arm around her. "Don't worry, it's getting late. We'll stay here for the night, right? Melanie and I will tend to the rooms and find a nice place, alright?"

The two left immediately, despite Melanie's initial protests.

Roman rolled his eyes. Green orbs turned to the page, mind wandering to the posibilities in store. A cane was something he was always skilled with, yet there were other things he could do. Did a cane have to be present for his whole life?

Yes, yes it does.

He began absent mindingly jotting notes- little tidbits of things he should add or make. He jokingly thought of a hat that could launch rockets and bear knives. He laughed and chose to ignore the weird look Red shot him. Then he thought of an improvement to his intial joke and Roman wrote it down, hoping to make it a reality someday.

As for a weapon, he had considered a sword within the cane. It was a classic, almost a cliché, but it was useful. Then he figured it wasn't his style. In fact, he wasn't as motivated as with his old weapon. But did comfort matter as much? He doibted it did, honestly.

Red was having better luck with her design. She had written her thoughts down and already began drawing. A pale hand grasped for the ruler and she start to measure her drawing, writing down information as she went.

"Any suggestions, Red?"

She looked up, frowned and nodded.

"Instead of a cane, use a walker."

"You wound me, Red. I am not that old."

"Some may beg to disagree."

Roman snorted and Red snickered silently. She put her pencil down and reached for Roman's paper. Looking at his notes, she wrote one of her own.

Gun slash knife slash taser

"A little ambitious, don't you think?"

"We need the best of the best, don't you think?"

She had a point there. Red headed back to working, pencil outlining another design. He watched silently as she worked, silver focused on her works of art. She stuck her tongue out- a habit, he figured. Her eyes were glued to the page. She was in completelyoblivious to him staring at her.

Maybe she just chose to ignore him.

"So, Red."

His dad had a radio in here years ago. He'd blast old people music and whistle as he worked. Late nights in the summer were spent in the shed back when his father insisted it was time for Roman to be a man and do manly work. He didn't really mind for he was intrigued by his father's creativity and ambition to create, well, anything. He didn't mind staying late nights in the shed, sweating in the midst of the summer heat. He did mind the old radio and its classical and dramatic beats.

Ironically, he preferred classical over any of this pop slash rock nonsense kids listened to today. Neo had a taste for a duo (Casidy? Casay? Casey? Jeffree? Jeff? Who knew) and he despised hearing it on Saturday mornings. She had a strange tendency to work out listening to rock (alternative, she claimed) and it often disturbed his sleep patterns.

Red had nodded, not looking at him.

"Do you have any...idea what you'll do after all this?"

At some point, the old radio broke. It didn't explode or simply snap or anything. His father turned it off one day after working on a table for an elderly couple. Then he came back the next night and turned it on, but to no avail. The radio was dead.

The economy was rough, too. It was a simple radio, yet his dad was cheap. He refused to buy one until times got better. Alas, he never got a new radio.

In the meantime, they talked. Small talk at first. It did wonders and Roman grew close to the man. He thought he and his dad a decent relationship, though his initial guess turned out wrong. He found out a lot about his dad that surprised him. In return, his dad got the best view into little Torchwick's mind.

"Yes and no."

He was surprised she answered. Maybe she was letting down her shield for today?

"Elaborate?"

"The obvious part is that I'm going to find Yang. If I do and also kill Cinder, then I'll leave. No huntress dreams for me, just a quiet life in Patch. And the no comes with the whole Patch thing, I don't know if dad or my uncle are even still there. I didn't graduate so I don't have anything. And if Yang...if she's gone, then I don't think there's much of a life left for me."

He cringed at the last sentence. His no empathy rule reminded him not to feel pity for Red, then he figured, "Fuck it."

She was talking to the orphan who built an entire criminal empire by the age of twenty four, completely motived by grief and despair.

"What about you? Anything in store for the Great Torchwick?" Red finished typing, placing her scroll down and dusting her skirt off.

He had thought of life after this. Saving Neo was his goal, but then what? He had places they could live and he knew they could miraculously survive of crime again. They'd strive again in the streets, just not with the goal to become feared. They'd survive, just survive. Then they'd die and that would be it.

"I retired from the criminal business years ago, my dear. Neo and I are retiring, we'll steal cash one last time, score the lottery and buy a little house. Then I'll die and leave everything I have to her and she can figure it out."

Yeah, that was not in his plans.

"And really, I highly doubt there's much either of us can do."

Red sighed, propping her elbows on the counter and resting her chin.

"I would have graduated Beacon by now."

"I would have stolen the Schnee Dust Company from your partner by now, but alas, there is forced rest for the wicked."

She cracked a grin at that, shaking her head and standing up again.

Roman stretched, flexing his fingers and flicking his wrist. The sun was dying now, sharing its final breaths before plunging into slumber. Darkness would rise and they'd have to head back to the abandoned house. If all was well, the Malachites had found a room that didn't have as many rat holes and hogged it to themselves.

"Do you ever think of it, I guess? Life if we hadn't been thrown into this shithole by Cinder?"

He had. The man had many, many times. He thought of it, he dreamt of it, he was praying for it. Those were the first two years, he woke up one day and realized how worthless it was.

"Yes and no. I can't keep lamenting it, Red. Not now, we have to focus on playing our cards right and fighting Cinder."

If Red was unsatisfied by the answer, she didn't let it show. She picked up her pencil and started designing. He did too, moving at his own pace and rythm. He found himself more at ease, even humming tunes he remembered from those late summer nights.

The night stretched on. Crickets and frogs sang in the darkness, wind blowing across the tall grass. Roman had lit a candle to keep working, since he was finally inspired.

Taking a final look, Roman placed a blueprint on top of a stack of others. He had come up with a couple of ideas and four designs. Red had worked on five and he was a bit shocked. Traditionally, he knew he worked with one design and its several edits. How he made so many drafts was...shocking, to say the least. In fact, he felt quite proud of himself.

"I'm done for the night. We can send the Malachites to a nearby town for materials- then we can work on it. Sounds good?"

Red nodded. She ran a hand through her hair, rubbing her eyes afterwards.

"I'm not tired, I'll stay out and then sleep. Go ahead, Roman."

He clicked his tongue, frowning. Ah, he wasn't very tired. He slept too much, actually. Besides, Red was not in her best state of mind. Not that he cared for the girl, but he did need her to get to Neo.

"How about a game of cards?"

"I forgot how to play."

"Then," He pulled the deck of cards from his pocket and smirked, placing it in her hands. "I'll teach you."

Time was lost in explaining the rules to Red. He offered different games to play that didn't involve betting (sadly), and he found out she distinctly remembered playing Speed once.

"I'm not a card fan," Red repeated. "Yang and Uncle Qrow played Speed a lot at home. I played with Yang once and she kicked my ass."

Roman hummed, listening to the monotone voice while arranging the stack. He place two cards in the middle side by side while playing another two stacks. He passed out the remaining cards motioned for her to watch.

"We'll play by five. Grab five cards from your stack and sort them by order for easier use. You remember the order?"

Seeing her bob her head, he continued. "When you're done, flip the card in the middle. When we get stuck and can't put any down, we grab the cards to the side."

And so they flipped. Roman placed a queen, followed by a joker and slammed a three and a two down. Red looked puzzled, wrinkling her nose and setting down a six and a five. Roman saw a chance and placed a four, grabbing the next set of cards.

"Speed." Roman smiled at Red, who frowned and let out an exasperating sigh. "The point is to be fast, Red. Now, let's play again."

He shuffled the cards carefully, catching a whiff of the scent of old cards. Red watched carefully, almost dazed as he rapidly seperated the cards and placed them in order.

"Ready?"

Red flipped her card and they began.

The rest of the game was spent with Red frantically trying to set her cards down before Roman. It took her to the third game to actually win, except she couldn't scream speed so she was stuck banging on the table.

Roman put his cards down, catching the problem. "Here, let me help."

He raised two hands up. Sticking his thumbs between his index and middle fingers. "This is sign language for speed."

"Oh no, I'm not doing that."

"Try it, Red. Or else I'll keep winning." He flashed her a toothy grin.

She cringed in response. Holding her hands up, she positioned her fingers in the same way as Roman. "See! You can win now without banging on the table!"

Red rolled her eyes, a smile gracing her feautures. Taking a deep breath, she motioned for him to start a new round.

They played once more. Red was fast, too fast in fact. She grabbed card after card before running out. She did a motion afterwards saying speed, which meant she had won the game.

"Congrats." Roman said, fixing the cards together and yawning.

Red did her own little celebration dance, jumping up and pumping a fist in the air. She was beaming, her hands forming the words speed over and over again.

Roman chuckled softly. Maybe Red would need to learn sign language. He wouldn't mind teaching her, even if his wasn't as perfect. Oh, and he hadn't practiced in years!

"Let's rest for the night. We have to make a list to buy first thing tomorrow."

The duo stacked their utensils and headed back to the house. Roman closed the door to the shed and stretched his arms. Red waited for him and he led her through the house.

The night was quiet, stars illuminating the sky. Everything was in sheer darkness, the creatures of the night coming to rule. The air was chilly and Roman guessed it was just around midnight.

As luck would have it, the Malachites hadn't hoghed up his parents' old bedroom. They were asleep on the dusty couches under some blankets they had brought. Candles were lit around them, probably to ease their worries about being chewed up by rats.

"I know where you can stay."

Red nodded, biting her bottom lip as she pryed her eyes away from the sleeping sisters. He showed her the way to his parents' bedroom and lit a few candles.

The room reeked of sadness and death. It stunk, literally, and even Red had scrunched up her nose in disgust. She helped him clean the sheets and replace the pillows for more suitable ones. As he attempted to search for any rat holes, he noticed Red looking at the photographs on the walls.

His mom had a little shrine of them. She decorated her room with photographs of them as a family- from Roman's birth to his graduation and even up to...the things that happened. They were scattered among the wall, enclosed in silver and gold frames. He watched Red pick at a photo, cleaning it with her fingers.

It was of him and his mother. They were smiling and Roman was slicing open a cake for his sixth birthday. The day was followed by a small celebration between family and friends.

Nostalgia curled up inside his stomach and he let out a sigh of exasperation. He missed his family dearly. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if-

No, he could not let the past distract him from the now. Neo was his now and he had to find her.

Disguising his initial feelings, he turned to Red and shook his head. "You're safe for the night."

"Thank you."

"Sleep well, Red. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

She rolled her eyes again and waved goodbye. He stepped out the room, deciding it was time to find himself a room to sleep. It wouldn't be hard, the only rolm left had been his old room.

Breathe.

The old room of the hild with bright green eyes and fresh dreams stood only inches apart. The ginger nervously reached for the door knob, heart racing. "Fucking dammit, Torchwick. You can do this."

The moment the door opened, there was no turning back. Besides, where else would he sleep? Romanventured into his childhood room, emersed into a world that was no longer his.

He was greeted by drawings. Not that he didn't remember his old room. He did recall how bad he was at interior design, anyway.

The drawings were made by him with crayons and markers. Some were of the world- a map of remnant, some maps and other landmarks. Others were of a stick figure with striking red-orange hair (could it be him?) and a little stick family. The final drawings were of houses and buildings.

His bed was smaller than he remembered. He sat down, the springs of the mattress squeaking. The man smiled fondly, eyes finding a set of action figures from comic books he hsed to read on the nightstand. There was a yellow lava lamp he had won in a carnival, next to an alarm clock shaped in the form of a fish.

Green eyes looked up and met stars- stars that surprisingly, still shone. His dad helped him glue the glow-in-the-dark stars across the ceiling. Sighing, he turned to see toys scattered in the room. A bookcase remained in the far end, beckoning him to discover its secrets.

Roman got up and ran a finger down the spine of a book. There were many, some picture tales and fairyttales, others more non-fiction. He was interested in science back then, so it was not a surprise to find many old scientific books. A little red book stood out to him, though, and he reached for that one.

Property of Roman T.

Reward if found: A cookie

He snorted at that. Well, at least he was cheap even back then.

Curious killed the cat and he dug into the book's secrets, hoping to step into the shoes of a more innocent Torchwick. What did this little boy dream of? What hopes did he have for the future? What would he think if he found out he was actually a fugitive of the law?

Dear future me,

Hello! It's me, you!

Roman snorted at that.

What year is it? How old are you? I'm eight years old! I want to grow up and study physics, but my mom wants me to be a huntress. Maybe I could do both!

No, he did not do either.

Anyway, how's your life now? I hope my parents health is good!

They're dead, kid.

I want to grow up and live in a big house! I'll get married and have two beautiful daughters and a dog!

Roman hated mutts. His many houses were huge, though it lacked a beautiful wife and two daughters. Instead, he had one daughter he loved and cherished.

I want to help people, did we do that?

No, he hurt more than helped. Ah, how naive he had been.

Also, did dad ever teach us how to play cards? I hate cards! They're obnoxious!

"Oh, how a deck of cards will save your life, kiddo."

Well, I gotta go! I hope you're happy! Bye!

"Am I happy?" He voiced, shutfing the book. It was barely the first page, but it had been enough to rudely awaken him. No, he was not happy.

He placed the book on the nightstand and took off his coat. He pulled off his shoes and threw on a blanket, hoping sleep would bless him and come soon.

The cards had gone crazy and he needed to sleep. Tomorrow, they'd build their weapons and start to head to Mistral in the span of the next days.

"And it better be fast, because I can't stand being inside this house."

He slept, haunted and tormented by the chained ghosts of his parents, wailing and crying and asking what had he done with his life. He slept, under the eyes of a heartbroken boy who never stood a chance in life.

He slept in the town that time forgot, destroyed by the Grimm and ceased to exist in his mind for the longest.