2327 days ago, Roman Torchwick had been betrayed.
2315 days ago, Roman Torchwick had been sentenced.
2312 days ago, Roman Torchwick had been placed in this cell.
He knew this, because he had taken the time to scratch the notches in the wall. Every day, as the sun came up and he was given his usual bowl of watery piss-gruel, he used the cheap tin spoon to scrape another line into the wall of his new home.
The rest of the morning would be spent counting these lines, over and over, until they seemed like they were gouged straight into his mind. Then would be lunch, another bowl of piss-gruel, followed by a few hours of stretches and light exercise to make sure he wasn't losing his limber. He would then be given dinner- another bowl of piss-gruel- before tucking in to bed, waiting for the next day, and the next repetition of his little routine.
Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second.
Roman Torchwick felt hate.
On the 2315
th day, the cell next to Roman received a new occupant.
"Fitting for the psychopaths to be put together," one of the guards laughed. Roman let his lips part and expose teeth, so that as the guards passed they could see. They didn't look. It didn't matter.
On the 2329
th day, Roman's new neighbor spoke for the first time.
"What are you in for?"
The voice sounded a little rough and gravelly. Roman wasn't sure if it was an affectation, or a result of spending too long sitting silent in his cell.
After a moment of thought, Roman responded. "Between you and me? I trusted the wrong friends."
The cell next door remained quiet for a few moments, before it's inhabitant began laughing bitterly. "You and me both."
On the 2333
rd day, Roman's neighbor gave him his name.
"I'm surprised you don't recognize me. I've made a bit of a name for myself these last couple of years," Adam Taurus said.
Roman shrugged, not caring that Adam wouldn't see it. "Been in here for a while." He didn't say how long. It wasn't necessary.
"How would you like to be out of here, instead?"
Roman's lips parted in a grin. "Oh, I'd love that," he said, "Be a real pick-me up, after all this time." He would especially enjoy the opportunity to find and meet his old friends. Why, after so many years, would they even remember good old Torchwick, and their days of shared violence?
He was sure they would. And if they didn't, well, he was sure a bit of violence would help jog their memory.
On the 2334
th day, terrorists attacked the prison, and Roman met Adam face to face for the first time.
BUSINESS VENTURE
A RWBY Quest
The night air was cold and crisp as Roman made his way through town. It had been too long. Far too long. Tipping his hat to the suited man standing outside of the bar, Roman made his way inside.
Mirrored walls and a highly open floorplan gave Junior's bar the illusion of being an endless expanse of milling flesh and strobing lights, a party that never slowed down or stopped. The bar itself was tended by one of Junior's toughs, a man hard to tell from any other tough given their common haircuts, uniforms, and builds. If Roman didn't know any better, he'd suspect that Junior had some kind of cloning vat in the back of his establishment, churning out an endless supply of worker drones to do his bidding.
Not that Roman would have cared if he did. He wasn't here for muscle- not yet, anyway. He was here for knowledge. And for that, he had to speak to the man in charge, not the droogs.
"I'll take a bloody Mary, with extra blood."
The bartender looked him over once from behind his red shades. "I'm sorry. We haven't carried those for years."
"Well, it's been years since I've been here to order one." Roman let his teeth flash in a grin. "Maybe if you tell the guys in the back that it's Torchwick asking, they'll be able to turn something up."
The bartender stayed silent for a moment, before stepping into the back room. Roman turned, let his arms stretch out to brace himself against the bar, and looked across the building.
Dozens of red glasses looked back at him from within the crowd, strobe lights gleaming off the reflective material, eerie patches of stillness within the throbbing mass of the dance floor. Torchwick's own grin remained still and steady, even as he felt the prick of a knife against the nape of his neck.
"You know, I didn't expect to ever see you alive again after that mess. Give me a reason why I shouldn't fix things so you aren't."
"Junior! Buddy! Pal! Amigo!" Roman's voice was filled with a fake cheer. "Is that really how you're going to treat your long-lost friend after he gets out of prison?"
The knife was removed from Roman's spine, and he turned around, leaving his arms wide as he came to face Junior. The man looked older than he remembered, but Roman supposed that was what happened when you were locked away for the better part of a decade.
"Friend is an expensive word these days," Junior observed. "I'm not sure if you've got the credit to pay that bill."
Roman shrugged, before gesturing at his shirt. At Junior's nod, he reached in and produced a stack of cards as thick as his hand, throwing them on the table. "I think you'll find I have plenty of credit these days- enough to make being my friend a very good idea." At Junior's completely straight face, Roman let out a chuckle. "A much better idea than the alternative, anyway."
"Perhaps we should talk in the back," Junior offered, picking up the cards and tucking them into his pocket.
The back rooms were, if anything, the opposite of the main room. Instead of a vast and pulsing infinity of flesh and smooth crystal rock, it was a series of small, cramped rooms of cheap wood, with the ever-present stench of cigar smoke and boiled cabbage baked into the very walls.
"Ah, how nostalgic," Roman reminisced out loud. "I remember back in the days, the things we'd get up to in back rooms like these-"
"Don't get so caught up in the past you forget why you're here." Junior paused. "Why are you here?"
"I'd have thought you would have guessed." Roman leaned against a wall, as casually as he could manage, hiding his hand in his pocket to hide how it trembled. "Who was it?"
"… You called me a friend a minute ago." Junior reached into his shirt pocket and produced a pack of cheap cigarettes. Tapping one out, he lifted it to his lips and ignited it with a bit of Dust. After sucking in a deep breath of smoke, he let it out slowly, and then shook his head. "I'm going to give you a friend's advice. Forget your past. Get out of this city. Go to another Kingdom. Start a new life with your new money."
"That isn't going to happen."
Roman had thought that Junior looked old before, but now he looked ancient, smoke leaving dark lines of shadow across his face. After a moment, Junior sighed.
"It was all of them, Roman. Dim, Pete, and Georgie- They were all in on it."
[] "Where are they?"
[] "Why did they?"
[] "How dare they?"