by E. C. Myers
He needed to get a big score and strike out on his own, preferably before the twins grew up. The brats were a handful now, but they’d be really dangerous when they were older. He hoped they’d get the all clear so they could go home before they injured or killed him, or each other; of course if anything happened to one of them on his watch, it would still be curtains for him.
Roman’s Scroll buzzed. It was Chameleon, another associate of the Spider organization. She wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but she was the most colorful, on account that her Semblance allowed her to change the color of her skin. This ability could be useful for spy work, but sometimes it worked against Chameleon―and whoever was partnered with her.
You had to trust the people you worked with, and the people who worked for you. So Lil’ Miss had set up a buddy system for new recruits, pairing them with members of the organization she already knew were loyal. But not necessarily competent. Word was that getting matched with Chameleon was more a hazing than training. Roman found out why when Lil’ Miss ordered the two of them to follow a councilman in the hopes of finding dirt they could use for blackmail or sensitive information to sell.
They had tailed the guy to a meeting with Jack Plum, one of Lil’ Miss’s rivals who tried to have a finger in every pie in Mistral. The plan was for Roman to cause a distraction outside so Chameleon could use her camouflaging ability to sneak into the room and record their conversation. It turned out she wasn’t so good under pressure. When she got nervous, her skin shifted colors uncontrollably, which naturally drew the attention of Plum’s guards.
By the time Roman made it to Chameleon, the left side of her face was badly cut up—Plum was notoriously vicious and cruel when he got cornered. Roman barely got the two of them out alive, then he lied to Lil’ Miss about another gang breaking up the meeting—more to save his own standing than Chameleon’s neck. Though she had certainly suffered enough already at Plum’s blades, and would always carry the scars to prove it.
Chameleon read more into Roman’s covering for her than she should have. She considered him a friend, and plainly wanted more than that. For his part, Roman considered Chameleon a liability. Semblances were overrated, and one that you couldn’t control was worse than none at all. Still, she could be useful on occasion and fun to be around on other occasions, so he continued to string her along. He answered the video call.
“Hey, Cammie, what’s up?” He reconsidered. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Her skin turned bright red. “He’s back, Roman,” Cammie whispered.
“Who’s back? You’ll have to be more specific.” A lot of gang members were on the lam when tensions ran hot, hiding out like Roman was.
No, he wasn’t hiding. The girls were laying low and he was protecting them.
“The bird has landed.” Cammie’s skin transitioned to green.
“Did we agree to use a passcode or something? I must have missed that memo.” Roman rubbed his eyes. On the far end of the room, the twins were pretending to be texting on their Scrolls, but they were obviously listening in on his conversation. Maybe speaking in code wasn’t such a bad idea.
“I’m talking the big bird in the mouse house.” The way the unscarred side of her mouth turned up, he knew she was having him on.
Roman gritted his teeth. “Even I’m not bored enough for your riddles.” Then he realized what she was saying. “Oh. Right. Good work. Where is he?”
She turned the same shade of purple as the Spider gang colors. “He’s come home to roost.”
“I hate you,” Roman said.
She blew him a kiss. “In an hour I’m going to tell the big boss what I just told you, but I thought you’d appreciate the heads-up. Looking forward to seeing you again when all this mess clears up.”
Roman tried to tip his hat to her, then remembered he wasn’t wearing it. “Take care, Cammie.”
Roman looked at the time on his Scroll. He had only two hours. Would the girls be okay on their own for a little while? No, Lil’ Miss would murder him when she heard about it. Everything would get back to their mother and his boss, sooner rather than later. And if she didn’t like how things turned out, he’d be done for.
So if he was going to act on this, he had to involve the twins, and make sure nothing happened to them, and his plan had to succeed.
That was a powerful argument to do nothing. But living in a three-room safe house with the twin terrors was making him edgy, too, and he’d do almost anything to go outside.
He pulled out his notebook. “You girls want to hear about Heist Plan Number Eighteen?” He turned to a fresh page and drew. A moment later he held up the book to show it to them.
Melanie peered closer at the two girls he had sketched in a corner of the page. “Are those supposed to be us?”
“They are indeed. We have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to pull off a major job. A legendary job. But I’m going to need help. Your help.”
“Us?” Miltia asked. “But we’re just kids.”
Melanie jabbed an elbow into her sister’s ribs.
Roman smiled. “That’s why it has to be you.”
Melanie handed Roman his hat. “We’re in.”
“You don’t want to hear the plan first?”
“I just want to do something!”
He put his hat back on. Now he could think better. He gestured for the girls to gather around him while he put his thoughts to paper.
Roman and Melanie waited outside the Parrot & Mouse. They didn’t need to knock, and they didn’t wait long.
Roman saw the blinds at the front windows twitch and knew they were being watched. The door opened, and Badger, the Parrot gang’s bouncer, stepped out. He had his signature pool cue balanced carelessly on his shoulder.
“Well, well, well. Hiya, Torchwick. This your new girlfriend?”
“Ew,” Melanie said. “As if.”
“You know who it is,” Torchwick said.
“Where’s the other one? Don’t twins usually come in twos?”
“And your pals say you aren’t that smart,” Torchwick said.
“What?” Badger advanced threateningly, bringing his pool cue around and slapping it in one hand.
“The other brat is close, but safe. She’s my insurance,” Roman said.
“What are you worried about?”
“That you’ll kill me and take both of them hostage.”
“How about I kill both of you?”
“Your boss would dislike that almost as much as my boss would. Surely you know that. And if you don’t, your backup in there does. You said it yourself: the Malachite girls come as a package deal, and Paul Parrot isn’t one to settle for less than a complete set.”
Badger flexed the pool cue and glared at Torchwick. But he stepped aside and swung his cue toward the door, gesturing for them to enter.
“I smell a rat,” Badger growled. “If you try to pull anything—”
“Keep it down. Your boss isn’t a big fan of rodents, if I recall.”
“He’s got it under control.” Badger laughed.
Melanie stomped on the thug’s foot as she passed. He bellowed and lunged for her. Roman blocked him with his cane. “She’s just a kid, big man.”
Melanie stomped on Torchwick’s foot next. He clenched his jaw and forced a pained smile. “Girls will be girls. She and her sister will be your problem soon.”
Roman had never been inside the Parrot & Mouse before, as it was the headquarters of a rival criminal organization. But he had paid a premium for photos of the tavern and a detailed sketch of the floor plans, so he knew what to expect. Except for the basement. Everyone knew that with the exception of Paul Parrot, anyone who went down there never came back up. Which is why Roman was here. He wanted to see what was in the basement, and Melanie was his ticket.
A few Parrot gang members in green-and-gold suits watched as Badger led Roman and Melanie toward a stairwell leading up. He casually glanced over the room and made note of a door that hadn’t been marked on
his maps. That had to lead downstairs.
The room over the tavern held a big dining table, and behind it sat the crime lord Paul Parrot. The man had deep tan skin, likely because he spent most of his time running small operations on the coastal towns to the north. His greasy black hair was slicked back and he had bushy eyebrows and a hawklike nose. He wore a deep green tuxedo jacket with a yellow bow tie and matching waistcoat, embroidered with an iridescent feather pattern.
Without acknowledging their presence, he picked up a piece of dry toast from his plate and scraped butter and jam across it. Contemplating the toast in his hand, he spoke.
“Roman Torchwick. I should kill you right now. You have been such a pain in my ass. And yet—” He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “You’ve come here with a peace offering.”
Roman stepped forward. Badger moved to stop him, but Parrot waved him off. He gestured for Roman to approach.
“You may not believe me, but I’m a big fan of yours,” Roman said.
“A big fan of mine? You’re right: I don’t believe you.” Parrot took another bite. Roman hated the crunching sound as he chewed, which was likely why he was doing it. “You work for Lil’ Miss Malachite.” Crumbs sprayed from his mouth, hitting Roman in the chest. Roman brushed them off.
“I want to work for you.” Roman gestured to Melanie. “As you can see, I’m tendering my resignation.”
“You want to work for me. So that’s what this is. You think you can buy your way into my gang?”
“The ransom you’ll get for her and her sister will be more than enough, and you can demand a truce with Lil’ Miss. You might even be able to take over her organization. Aren’t you tired of this war?”
“It hasn’t been good for business, though it has its moments. It reminds me of the old days. When I was a kid, the gangs could get away with anything. Now, we have to be sneakier about it and pay the law to look the other way. Why should I trust you?”
“Of course you shouldn’t. I’m a criminal, just like you. But I am not without honor, and I can be a real asset to your organization. The way I’ve been for Lil’ Miss Malachite.”
Melanie harrumphed.
Parrot repeated the sound. “Indeed. The way you’ve been for Lil’ Miss Malachite. Here you are, delivering her daughters to me.”
“Well, to be honest they talk too much.”
“Ugh,” Melanie said.
“You’re trying to play me like a fool,” Parrot said.
“Play you like a fool?” Roman asked.
Parrot threw the crust of his toast at the wall. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No?” Roman said.
“No. Well then, who do you think I am? You want to trade for the Malachite girls? I offer you your life in exchange. Now go.”
“But—”
“We already have the other girl, Torchwick. Found her snooping around behind the tavern, trying to sneak into the basement.”
“What did you do to her?” Roman asked.
“I let her succeed.”
Roman froze. “You’re bluffing.”
“You’re bluffing. It’s obvious that you care about her, which means you’re up to something. I know what people say, that there’s a treasure in a vault beneath my tavern. Well, that’s true. But there’s something else, too. Young Melanie is discovering my secret right now, and she will not survive.”
“Miltia?” Melanie said.
“Miltia. Who cares?” Parrot calmly picked up another piece of toast.
Melanie and Roman locked eyes. They heard a girl scream from far away in the building.
Roman took off down the stairs. It wasn’t until he reached the landing that he realized Badger hadn’t even tried to stop him. In fact, none of the Parrots were standing in his way, and that worried him. But Miltia was downstairs and in trouble, and he had to save her—and her sister.
The door to the basement was locked. Well, he’d been wanting to give Melodic Cudgel a field test. He drew his cane and popped the reticle up. He aimed at the lock. He pulled the trigger.
A flare burst from the business end of the cane and destroyed the lock, along with half the door. He kicked the rest of it open and bolted down the stairs.
Miltia was standing in a corner of the basement facing off against a large, black thing.
The bony white spikes and glowing red streaks along its body marked it as a Creature of Grimm, the monstrous beasts that roamed Remnant, driven only to destroy humans and Faunus. But he’d never seen one like this before. It was like a rat or a mouse, only six times bigger and uglier. The long black tail whipping back and forth behind it had white barbs on its end, as vicious as its sharp, elongated claws.
Someone bumped into Roman from behind. He jumped. Melanie started to move forward but he grabbed her.
“Go upstairs,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of this. Whatever this is.”
The monster’s head snapped around to stare at Roman, its eyes blazing. It opened its mouth and hissed, revealing double rows of teeth as long as his fingers. “You were saying?” Melanie said.
“It’s a Capivara Grimm.” A screen on the wall turned on to show Paul Parrot’s face. Roman noted the cameras positioned all around the room. He bet they were for more than security. Parrot liked to watch his victims die.
“I’ve never heard of anything like that in Mistral,” Roman said.
“It’s imported from the deserts of Menagerie. The Parrot syndicate has been … acquiring Capivara for a very long time.”
“This is how you make your enemies disappear.”
“This is how I make my enemies disappear.” The door above them closed and Roman heard something heavy being dragged across the floorboards to block it.
“You wanted to see my treasure. Here it is.” Parrot laughed.
“Keeping a Grimm in captivity is incredibly stupid and incredibly dangerous,” Roman said.
Roman squeezed Melanie’s hand reassuringly. He needed her and her sister to remain calm.
Roman had fought Grimm before. They sometimes got past the city guards and went on a rampage, especially in less protected settlements like Wind Path, where he had grown up. But when you faced death every day on the streets, the Grimm weren’t so fearsome. At least it was a quicker death than freezing or starving.
Roman had fought Grimm before, but he had never killed one. Usually he held it off long enough for him to run away. But he’d seen plenty of Huntsmen and Huntresses take down Grimm. It didn’t look that hard.
The first order of business was to get it away from Melanie and Miltia so they could escape.
“The back door,” Roman whispered. “Look for your opening.”
Melanie gave him a withering look. “Lil’ Miss would be upset if she didn’t get to kill you herself. We’re staying to help.”
“Okay. I tried,” Roman said.
He moved in on the Capivara as Melanie and Miltia took up positions on either side of it. The Grimm twisted around, turning on each of them. It snapped at Roman and he smacked its snout with his cane. It lunged at him, razorblade claws lashing at his face, but he parried with his weapon and stepped to one side, firing a flare at one of its eyes point-blank. Black goo splattered from its ruined eye. It was angry now.
The Grimm leaped for Roman again, but it fell short. Melanie and Miltia were holding on to its tail. It scrabbled around, chasing the end of it—and them. They let go and cartwheeled to safety.
“It’s pathetic,” Roman said to Parrot. “You’re pathetic. I really did respect you. I thought I wanted to be you. But I see that all of this—you didn’t earn it.”
“I didn’t?”
“You inherited the Parrot syndicate from your uncle.”
“I did kill him for it.”
“And he inherited it from his father.” Roman dodged another blow from the Grimm. He shot a flare at it and it backed up into the same corner it had trapped Miltia in moments ago. It snapped at him again, but Roman hooked his cane into its upp
er lip, like a fish on a line, turned, and flipped it overhead. The Capivara landed on its back and screeched.
“You didn’t even capture this Grimm yourself,” Roman said.
“How dare you!” Paul Parrot screamed. “How dare you! How dare you!”
“I think you broke him,” Melanie said.
Roman fired a couple of times at the Grimm’s tail before hitting it, severing its barbed tip. Even without it, it was still plenty deadly.
“You need to be more daring,” Roman went on. “You aren’t like Lil’ Miss Malachite. She faced her fears; she earned the syndicate and made it her own—and her people love her for it. That’s why we’re loyal to her.”
The Grimm hesitated. It looked at Roman, Melanie, and Miltia. Then it turned to look up the stairs. It sniffed.
“Why won’t it kill you?” Parrot screamed.
Roman lowered his cane. “Grimm are drawn by emotion. You never controlled it. It killed your enemies because most people you drop in here are going to be afraid. They won’t be able to fight back.” Roman smiled at Melanie and Miltia. “But as far as I can tell, these girls don’t feel anything. And I’m not afraid to die.”
Melanie and Miltia rolled their eyes in tandem.
“Kill them!” Parrot shouted. “Kill them!”
The Capivara hissed once more at Roman, and then it ran up the stairs. It made short work of the barricade at the door. The men upstairs shouted. Roman heard Badger scream, and then the sound of a pool cue snapping in two. Then it was quiet.
“Anger can be a more powerful emotion than fear,” Roman said. “Grimm’s coming right for you, Paul.”
When Roman looked at the screen next, Parrot was gone. He probably had an escape route—Roman would, in his place. But he hoped the Grimm would at least chase him for a bit and make him sweat.
“Did we just let a giant rat-mouse Grimm loose in the city?” Melanie asked.
“Eh. That’s what Huntsmen and Huntresses are for. They’ll handle it. And if it takes some of them out, that’s just gravy.”
He led them up the stairs. “Girls, you were terrific back there. All in a good day’s work. Maybe we don’t need to tell your mother about this, hmmm?”
