Omniscient POV
-----
Days after the Fall of Beacon
High in the sky, a spotlight casted from the moon's glare searched all across the entire city of Vale.
Not a soul roamed the broken and desolate corridor streets, quieter than solitary dead asleep in the middle of the night. The rustle of plastic bags or dinging soda cans left out in the wind echoed past the cells of buildings, like creaking floorboards or running pipes. Only wandering rats near electrified fences, occupied by guards patrolling checkpoints, dared to reveal themselves to the surveillance of the moon.
A dirty newspaper article fluttered and swirled along the streets until it hit a wall straight flat.
WITH BEACON'S FALL COMES A RISE OF CRIME.
Just barely a handful of days since Atlas abandoned Vale after its massive failure to protect the city, crime has been at an all time high. Despite the V.P.D.'s best efforts to investigate and stop these string of incidents, more pressing issues, such as enforcing a city-wide curfew, evacuating citizens from other kingdoms, and monitoring the growing Grimm activity, has them already completely overwhelmed.
The muffled thumps of music boomed inside the walls of a nightclub.
A DJ wearing a large bear mask played his instrument to the audience of men in identical black suits, fedoras, red ties, and sunglasses within a near empty nightclub.
The bearded man in a suit downing shots behind the bar was the club owner, Junior.
Next to him were his personal bodyguards, Melanie and Miltia Malachite, sipping martinis while admiring themselves in their hand held mirrors.
The twin sisters had long, black hair and bright green eyes, and they had matching dresses with fur scarves and knee-high boots, the only difference being that Melanie wore all white and Miltia wore a mix of reds and blacks.
The front door cracked ajar, and the DJ's hand slipped, disrupting the song.
A creak sharper than a knife sliced past the confusion, and everyone swivelled their heads towards the surprise guest.
Roman Torchwick.
He passed a sign detailing the crossed out silhouette of a blonde woman and flaunted himself as he cruised down the stairs.
"This place has definitely seen better days." Roman sucked his teeth and frowned. "What's the matter, business not going so well?"
Junior threw back a drink and grabbed a bottle.
"Heard nightclubs aren't too popular these days." Roman joined the bar. "And neither is that gig you have on the side."
He paused mid-pour and peeked past the rim of his shades. "What do you want, Roman?"
"Safe passage." He tapped his knuckles on the bar and slid his finger across the surface. "To Mistral."
The bottle nearly fell from Junior's fingers, and Melanie and Militia stopped looking at themselves to see if they were hearing things right.
"I know it sounds bad," Roman endearingly touched his chest, "but I trust your proficiency at moving things in and out of the city."
Junior downed another shot. "And what am I supposed to get out of it?"
"My eternal gratitude." He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'll even send you a nice letter once I arrive in Mistral."
"Get him out of here."
Melaine and Miltia got off their stools and put a hand on both of Roman's shoulders, but he smacked them off.
"Easy, there ladies." He dusted his clothes. "Don't wrinkle the new suit. I just got this for free, you know."
"Melanie," Militia brandished a pair of claws, "should I?"
"No, Militia." Melaine flourished her bladed heel. "Let's both teach him a lesson."
Roman held up his hands. "Now, before you do anything rash, how about you hear me out first?"
Junior growled. "Last time I heard you out, I lost good men."
"It's not my fault your men couldn't handle some girl in a red hood." He gave a wry smile. "Besides, I think they're only serving ten or so years. No big deal, right?"
"Just forget it, Roman. I couldn't get you there even if I tried. It's impossible under these conditions." Junior chuckled. "The only way you're getting out of here is if you give yourself up. "
Roman cocked an eyebrow. "Or better yet: why don't you just lend me that airship you have on the roof and point me in the right direction?"
Junior snorted and shook his head.
Melanie and Militia got ready to rip Roman apart, but before they could, a pair of arrows whizzed from above and struck the bodyguards, completely encasing them in ice.
Junior and his henchmen gasped and gawked at the darkened rafters.
Roman smashed the bottle over Junior's skull, knocking him out cold, while more arrows rained in the nightclub and pelted every henchman in sight.
Once it was clear, Roman hopped over the bar and plucked a new bottle from the top shelf.
"Well, that worked out better than I thought it would." He popped the cork and wasted no time pouring himself a glass of champagne. "A toast to finally being able to get out of this darn dump."
"For you maybe, but I'm staying."
The air shimmered in the middle of the dance floor, where dozens of arrows and henchmen were scattered, and Cooper appeared, wiping his grey trousers.
Cooper donned an orange flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up and buttoned halfway to reveal the black shirt underneath. Bundled around his neck was his usual scarf, and on his head was a grey flat cap.
"This again?" Roman threw back his glass and exhaled satisfaction. "Come on, Stripes, you know as well as I do that this place is done for. What's the point of sticking around anymore?"
"A deal's a deal." Cooper leaned against the bar. "I put up with your annoying rump for days, but no more. Now give me what I want and take me to Patch."
"The deal was that we work together to find a way out of that forest and get back to Vale." Roman nonchalantly shrugged. "I just so happened to mention that I know a guy who can get us out of the city. Never said anything about taking you to that island off the coast."
Jaw clenched, he squeezed his staff.
"Wait, is that where Little Red and her band of misfits hang out these days?" He hung his head and facepalmed. "Why bother?"
Cooper glowered. "Like you'd ever understand."
"As crazy as this may sound, I actually do." Roman's gaze fell. "Neo's waiting for me. If we ever got separated or if things went south here in Vale, we agreed to meet up in Mistral."
For a brief moment, Cooper's face relaxed but rehardened just as quick.
"All I'm asking for is a ride to Patch." He shooed him off. "After that, go wherever you want. Just stay away from me and my friends."
Roman gulped another glass and sighed.
"Even if I agreed to that," he removed his bowler's hat and swept a hand through his hair, "I don't think there would be enough fuel left for me."
Cooper blinked. "Wha—"
Throwing his hat, Roman lurched forward. Cooper smacked the hat aside, and Roman snatched Cooper's scarf, yanking him face first into the bar. Cooper yelped and clutched his nose, but as he tried to get up, Roman smashed the champagne bottle on his head.
Cooper went limp.
"Sorry, Stripes, but I need you for one last thing." Roman lit one of the cigars he kept in his breast pocket. "You're coming with me to Mistral."
He took a big breath and puffed a long trail of smoke.
"This is gonna be a long ride."