A Spellbound Gem (a RWBY fanfiction)

Chapter 23: Gingersnaps And Frozen Cream

"Neo, I have a confession to make."

The younger girl looked up from her phone with a skeptical look in her eye. Roman Torchwick was standing in the small hotel room there were staying in, watching carefully out the window. He looked over all the people walking by, his own eyes narrowed in focus.

"I'm not sure who we're working for here." He said quietly, Neo looking even more confused than she had been before. "The chick that hired us isn't in charge here, that's clear. But I have no clue who's calling the shots."

Neo stood up, tossing her phone onto the bed as she came up behind Torchwick and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him from behind.

The man looked down at her hands, just barely reaching all the way around to hold themselves. He took them within his own and sighed. "I don't like not knowing who's in charge. Makes me feel disposable..."

The feeling of the small girl's head shaking back and forth made him smile.

"Of course you'd think otherwise, you have an unhealthy obsession with me." He laughed, flinching when Neo punched him in the side. "How mean... I'm not gonna make it to old age at the rate you beat me."

The small girl handed her phone over to Torchwick so he could see what she was typing.

You're already an old man ;p

"That winky face makes that so much worse and makes me feel even older. Thanks." He muttered, playfully pushing her away and chuckling. "I'm serious though, I think we need to ask around a bit."

Neo hopped back to her feet, nodding happily in agreement as she picked up her parasol. The girl readily held it like a bat, prepared for advanced interrogation!

The ginger smirked and patted her head before pulling a cigar from his coat and stepping towards the door. "I'll be back in a little bit. I'll grab us something to eat while I'm out."

A smile and a light wave goodbye sent him out, the door closing behind him as he lit his cigar. The hotel was cheap at best, a health hazard at worst. The outdoor metal steps down to ground level were worn out and loosely held together. The neon sign proudly declaring 'Vacancy!' was flickering in the late afternoon light at it gave Roman an odd sense of nostalgia.

"The good old days of ripping off mobsters are behind me. I'm in a league so big I didn't know it existed..." He muttered to himself, hesitation lacing his words. That weariness practically fell from his shoulders after a deep drag of the butt. "Oh well, no use in worrying too bad. Might as well find a noodle shop."

The walk was slow, relaxed as he made his way through the familiar streets of the poorer Vale. The run down alleys and streets where cops didn't patrol. This was the safest place for a man like him, as nobody was brave enough or stupid enough to go into this area if they didn't grow up here.

"Oy, Roman, the normal serve?" The man at the counter of the shop asked, leaning forward with an easy grin.

Torchwick nodded, pulling his cash out. "Yeah, normal serve and a number twelve with a couple rolls." He added, tossing a few bills down before puffing his cigar.

The cook cocked a brow in question. "That for the chick that's been following you? Surprised you brought her out here."

"Neo's my partner, I can't get my work done without her." The ginger huffed, smoke slipping past his lips. "Besides, I'm not worried about her."

"You know how people feel 'bout the richies." He pointed out, putting the meal together as he spoke. "And there's somethin' wrong with her... She one of those magic kids from the castle up top or some shit?"

"You know I'd never bring some Beacon prep down here, they wouldn't last a minute." Torchwick laughed, coughing a moment before he continued. "She'd a witch, but she ain't one of theirs."

"Good." The man told him, pushing a bag of food his way. "That's good..."

Roman muttered a light remark about superstition as he left the shop, making his way back out towards the hotel, passing many standing around and not even trying to hide their illegal activity. He saw one thug take a step his way just for their friend to grab him by the shoulder, locking eyes with the ginger.

"He's where he should be, dude. Don't bug him." The boy said to his friend, pulling him back and letting Torchwick past them.

The man had been using this neighborhood as his hideout since he was a teen, learning every corner and finding everyone that'd whisper dirty secrets for a cut. He was almost a local legend at this point. But every time he came back there was always someone that would see the expensive coat and eyeliner and immediately think he was an easy paycheck.

He walked into the parking lot, blowing smoke from his lips and closing his eyes for a moment as he came in. When they opened again he saw a white motorbike parked in front of his room, a girl leaning against the wall by the door.

"Damnit... They do not make my life easy..."

He threw the burnt through cigar down in front of her, stepping on it and crossing his arms, bag still in hand. "I wasn't aware that I gave you my address. Is there a reason you couldn't send a text?"

The girl, most likely in her early twenties with blue green hair atop her chocolate completion, sighed heavily before plastering a faux smile on.

"You're right, you didn't give your address." She agreed, clearly straining the pep in her tone. "So I had to go out of my way to find you. Thanks for that."

"What do you want, kid?"

The girl frowned, clearly not appreciating Torchwick's tone. "Cinder wants to talk to you. In person."