Six months before team RWBY formed…

Roman Torchwick sat comfortably with his legs kicked up on the table before him in his open office, hidden safely underground where he could maneuver his operations in secrecy. His little office area was centered in a large, spacious, concrete room that had a brief musky taste in the air. The overhead lights were only a little luminescent, keeping the room in a still easily-visible but darker atmosphere. On the wall behind him was a map of the city of Vale, marked with red strings and markers, with circles and X's around locations of interest. The other sides were aligned with desks scattered with papers, files, and the occasional computer. Ahead was the front wall, sanctioned by two guards near the exit, a staircase leading up to the surface. All of his men, in their usual attire consisting of jet-black suits and red visors, were loading up crates, checking shipments, checking data, standing guard, or doing some other mandatory task assigned to them.

Roman leaned forward with an accomplished smile, reaching for a glass of wine. He took a long, smooth sip to reward himself and his criminal enterprise. He had little faith in the proposition at first, but he was happy to be wrong in this case, because business had been booming and massively successful within the last few months. All of the crime families, enterprises or others had been wrangled, willingly or forcefully, under his direct control. Because of this, his influence could reach all over Vale and beyond its borders with little interference. The police were hardly ever an issue anymore, as long as each person stuck to the plan of any operation. He was warned to be careful how frequently he pulled off a heist or robbery, lest Atlas really gets involved with this issue, but as long as he remained diligent, the officials had no idea that all of the crime was connected and organized under a criminal empire. Regardless, he became much more notorious than he had been previously. He was both feared and respected as the dominant force in the criminal underworld by the public eye, something he reveled in. He enjoyed the spotlight a bit, enjoyed how he had finally achieved his dream of controlling the criminal underworld, enjoyed the prestige and power he worked nearly a lifetime for. Roman halted the cup before his lips. He stared deeply into his own reflection, knowing that wasn't truly the case.

Roman knew that was a lie.

True, he held very much power in this empire and was the face of it, but he was not the primary dominant force at all, but more of an unofficial second-in-command. The real boss preferred it that way. Didn't want to expose himself much at all, so much so that only the higher-ranked crime bosses of his empire truly knew of his existence, but even then, the low-tier men who heard about him either figured he was just another boss that controlled things from afar or was just a myth to scare the men into doing their jobs and not trying anything stupid. Their conclusions weren't far off, too. Even after months of servitude, Roman had barely seen the man in person at all, and even then he was always hooded and concealed in dark robes, leaving his face obscured… but not those eyes. They were yellow, but not the natural healthy kind. These were dark, sickly, corrupt, unnatural. He could still easily recall the first time those eyes burned into his, delivering a very clear message: join me or die.

As for the false mythical rumor, well, that went many different ways. Many have called the boss a demon, which he at first thought was for his powerful, threatening presence, but apparently the few who had supposedly actually seen his face didn't mean that figuratively. Maybe he was a ram-faunus or something? One thing that was certainly true was that if any faction or groups rebelled for a takeover, the boss would always handle it personally. Sometimes he would bring a small armada, other times he would go alone. The end result was always the same, with the boss always being the one to kill the would-be usurpers himself, and if his success rate was anything to go by, his vastly superior skills and Semblance never failed to brutally put them down. After that, the remaining members of a short-lived attempted overthrow either submitted or fought on, hoping to slay that demon. None ever came remotely close.

A nudge to his leg shook him out of his thoughts. "Huh?" He looked to his left to see his right-hand woman, Neo, sitting on a sofa chair with an umbrella in hand used to nudge him, and a curious look on her face. She slightly leaned forward with a raised eyebrow. To the average person, it would be difficult to decipher what this mute was saying if they didn't know any sign language, but he could understand her like she was speaking from her mouth. Are you fine?

"What? Of course I'm doing great," his signature grin plastered on his face as he gestured to himself, "business is absolutely booming! And I've finally secured the position of top-dog- well, okay, almost top-dog, but still!" The petite woman slightly squinted her mismatched eyes with an equally faint tilt of her head.

Are you really, though?

Roman's confident grin cracked with a sigh, knowing he couldn't deceive his right-hand. He sagged back into his comforter before taking another swig of wine. He exhaled before speaking up, "Ah, you got me." He rested his head against his left knuckle as if to support his increasing dispiritedness. "It's great finally being so high in power, but it feels kinda like an empty victory when it's handed to you on a silver platter." Neo's face grew a small smile. Not the sinister, malevolent kind she'd often wear, but a rare sympathetic one only ever seen by Roman. This time she used sign language and her body gestures to form a more detailed sentence.

You did earn this spot, Roman. He wouldn't have chosen you to take care of the syndicate if you didn't have the skill, competence, or experience required. He prefers you over all the others, you know.

A warm smile, yet another rare sight, drew upon Roman's lips. "Thanks, Neo," he softly said before reaching over to pat her on the head. He chuckled mirthfully when she scowled and shoved his hand aside. He knew how much she hated being treated like a child, and it was pure amusement for the crime lord. "You're right. I earned this. Besides, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?" Roman took another short sip as he straightened himself. "And even if I'm not the boss of this whole thing, it sure does feel like it half the time."

It was true. The boss would frequently take leave for periods of times, from days to weeks before he returned. He never told anyone where or why he was gone, (at least as far as Roman knew) and upon his return would resume his operations as planned. During his departures, he left Roman in charge of everything and was at least gracious enough to give Roman a heads-up every time he would leave, but he didn't usually say for how long.
Go, he had said on their video call before his last leave, run my empire. Roman always felt there was an underlying threat in his messages to not cross him, even after a few months; not that he could really fault him.

The boss instructed Roman to contact him only if there was an emergency, which pretty much was always in the form of overconfident and power-hungry mob bosses or others trying to take over the empire while the boss was gone. They never made it far before the demon put them down. Neo's sign language halted his thoughts once more, Maybe this deal wasn't so bad afterall. We're making more lien and rewards than before.

He grinned at her, agreeing,"Heh, it really did pay off, didn't it?" His grin faded in place of a cringe and slight groan. "Though, it really didn't feel like it at first." His stomach flinched before placing a supporting hand on it. The boss could fucking kick, hard. You may as well get a gorilla to do a haymaker to your gut. Likewise, he saw Neo with a similar expression as she placed a gentle hand around her abdomen. Roman took in a short, quite, and ragged breathe through his teeth. Seeing her rub her stomach was an atrocious reminder of their agreement, of the consequences that would occur if he broke it. His thoughts were torn back to that fateful night of their arrangement, the night they became only second best. It was the night that Roman and Neo had been bested for the first time.

It was all so sudden; one moment Roman and Neo were overseeing an operation in one of their warehouses, and the next they were under siege from already conquered crime syndicates which were led by their soon-to-be boss. As the fight raged on both sides, the demon confronted them and had demanded they work for him lest they face their deaths; they had thought him to be an arrogant fool for believing he could possibly defeat their combined might, and so they engaged with killer intent. At first, they thought they had him beat. He was slow and on the defensive, only delivering occasional counterattacks. Despite their assured-victory over his seeming lack of skill, they still hadn't managed to land a single blow on him. They soon found out he was merely testing their combat capabilities. Suddenly, his speed, agility, and skills had spiked, and despite how synchronized the two were, how skilled, fast, or strong they were, they were ultimately no match at all.

His speed and reflexes were preternatural, and combined with his unrivalled acrobatics, he could flip, dodge, and twist his way around them so rapidly and smoothly that they could barely keep up with his movements. His weapon was unlike any they had encountered before, one that could break a man's Aura in just a few hits and slice through solid steel like a knife cutting the wind. All Roman could describe about it was it was some searing hot red plasma-staff and that the burns nearly scarred him, even with his Aura filled up. The demon's skills and fighting style were foreign, complex, and vast, both in martial arts combat and with his staff. He combined both styles seamlessly and performed each strike in rapid and accurate succession, and was quick and powerful, very aggressive with offence, and above all, unpredictable; the boss practically fought with the principal "confuse and conquer" all throughout their fight.

Most ferocious of all was his Semblance. He still didn't know the full extent of it, but its capabilities were broad and devastatingly powerful. The boss was very proficient in the use of telekinesis, the most obvious one displayed, but Roman knew he had other abilities hidden up his sleeve. He had to, otherwise, how could he have discovered Neo's importance to him?

After an embarrassingly quick fight, the demon's forces devastated their's, and Roman's and Neo's Auras were depleted and their weapons were destroyed by his own, and the once glorious crime boss laid struggling and injured on the floor with the boss' metallic foot crushing down onto his torso. Roman could still feel a phantom pain of that moment to this day, a pain that felt like his chest was about to collapse in upon itself if that demon pushed his foot down any further. The boss, hooded in dark robes and a black fighter-tunic, glared at him deeply. His face was shrouded in darkness, but not those sinister eyes that stood perfectly visible from the cold darkness of his hood. The blazing edge of his staff was pointed precious centimeters away from Roman's throat; despite this, Roman kept up a decent poker face.

He has had many years of practice, and although this certain situation was new, it wasn't the first time where he's been in a pickle and needed to stay calm. Initially, he thought about falsely surrendering, doing something so Neo could escape and strike back at a later time. But as the demon glared at him, his eyes narrowed, then his posture mysteriously relaxed… and Roman could swear he heard that sinister smile form on his lips. The demon… he knew, somehow he knew about Neo, about her actual

importance to him, how close he held her dearly. Roman didn't even see it coming- how could he have?

The boss' free arm reached out to his right, his eyes never leaving Roman's own, then an all too familiar gasp was heard, and Neo plummeted right into that demon's grip. All of it had happened in the span of a mere two seconds, and he couldn't believe his eyes while his heart rate was threatening to burst out of his chest. His "perfect" poker face definitely cracked at that moment.

The demon stepped away from Roman with a weak Neo in his grip, desperately trying to pry his hand from her throat. Before a fearful Roman could reach out, a pair of goons held him steady on the ground despite his thrashing. He tried to appease that beast, frantically telling him he'd work for him and wouldn't put up a fight. He only became more terrified when the demon slowly tilted the blade towards Neo's abdomen. He shouted at him, pleaded with him- by that point, he would have done anything, especially to wipe that look of terror off of Neo's face- wide eyes, dilated pupils, heavy breathing, so unnatural and misplaced for one such as herself. And without warning, the demon mercilessly thrusted the blade at her.

Roman shook his head to clear his daunting thoughts. It didn't do any good to relieve such traumatic experiences. What matters is that Neo is with him now and they work happily together. Sure, they worked for the prick that kicked their asses, but they've done nothing to provoke his wrath afterwards and were rewarded graciously for their productive efforts. True, they've considered a coup at first, but after seeing how well that went for the others, they figured they were in the best position that they were gonna get. Looking up at Neo, he could see that she was likewise in a state of deepthought.

"Excuse me, sir." A professional voice broke both Roman and Neo away from their thoughts and looked at a simple low-tier worker in the standard attire.

"Yeah, what is it?" Roman inquired as he sat up and placed his drink down.

"You're needed to fill in a status-report and to receive a message."

"Status-report- what?" Roman was incredulous, "Isn't that what I pay you guys for?" He emphasized with a point of his cane. He didn't have time for this. If this simpleton couldn't do one simple job, then he'd be out for-

"It's a direct order from the boss," he spoke that demon's dreaded name.

Roman's eyes widened. Neo looked over to him, shrugging with a half-smirk. Looks like you're up. The man sighed and stood up. Well, if it was the boss himself, that of course changed conditions. He dismissed his underling and hesitantly walked over to his personal office. It wasn't absolutely awful for him to talk personally to the boss. He hadn't been stealing from him or conspiring against him, so he had no fear of punishment, it's just that talking to the boss, well, it was no fun to say the least. Still, work had to be done, and although their private talks usually made Roman feel a little uneasy, he was a bit curious to learn what the message was while a feeling of uncertainty imprinted unto himself.

He nervously scratched his neck before closing his office door behind him. Making sure the door was locked and that the windows viewing the larger adjacent room were covered, he turned the lights off before walking over to his desk and entering a number combination in his keyboard. A large viewing screen across from him, stretching nearly the whole length of the wall on the top half and angled downward facing him, flickered to life. The silence of the room was interrupted by a subtle exhale from the television. On the other end showed his boss, sat down on some bench in a dark room, facing the screen. As always, his figure was obscured by dark robes and his hood, all except for those dim yellow eyes. "Roman," the voice spoke in a deep, smooth, and dangerous voice that always put the aforementioned man at attention, "My empire is becoming more successful as the weeks progress. I want to know how well it is currently doing."

His order was met with absolute compliance as Roman nodded his head in respect and submission to a superior. "Yes, Lord Maul."