The Conquerors bloodline

Chapter 222: Torchwick's search

Plans were changed, as irritating as that is, there was not much Roman could do to change it. His little faade as sparkies little collection agent left him in dire straits. He could easily refuse her, skip town with all the lien he's hoarded from their little accord.

Problem was, sparky had this uncanny ability of being in the wrong place at the right time and with some ungodly fireworks that didn't need aura to make things blow up. Plan had been he'd just go about gallavanting with cheap labour collecting up all the dust from around Vale. Simple enough right?

Yeah, well, no. It was the easiest job in the world especially considering it wasn't his money on the line. What truly made the gig a bastard was the odd huntsman that'd pop out from bumfuck nowhere and ever since that little red caped kid bumbled between him and sweet, sweet crystals, more of them were showing up. Last few days its like there's huntsmen on every porch and roof just waiting for him.

He had to be smarternot a difficult featmore cunning, more subversive. Tunnels were being dug for heists, bugs were being planted in the VPD, Huntsmen were bribed.

Then of course, sparky brought something new. Something annoying. Something Roman rightly had no business dealing in yet had no choice.

Kidnapping, well, mannapping.

He was some bloke without a profile, not a hint of even existing in the open world. All he'd gotten from sparky was three things. Black hair, red eyes, and has a wing. The last he'd gotten from kneecaps and minty fresh who'd apparently had a little kerfuffle with the mark some time ago.

It didn't help, not in the slightest.

You know what helped even less?

Them not helping.

Seriously, was it that hard to help a man out these days? He was chasing a ghost with his knickers and a stick and was expected to find him just like that? Idiots.

Still, after a time and some drunken beaconites he'd been able to figure out marky marks identity.

Parc Evans.

A nobody. And not in that he was unimportant. The kid was literally a nobody. He didn't exist, and if his contact in the Crown didn't know him, then he really wasn't a thing.

From what the kids said he'd just up and appeared one day alongside this hanging building off the edge of the cliff overlooking the emerald forest and just up and became a teacher to the first years. No one knew where he was from, but what they did say was whoever this kid was, called himself a killer. A hitman for hire and held little care for the health of his 'students' which at this point seemed more like a joke as the kid just wanted to watch kids beating eachother to pulps in a fight club.

Early this evening Roman had gotten a call from one of his ears set up by the docks to Beacon. Parcand a sexily dressed Glynda Goodwitchhad landed and were set up striding through the city. Perfect, just another guise to get some info on the kid.

They'd arrived at some restaurant, the one that used to be that chique little shithole where the rich pissed on the poor from above. Food was crap, wouldn't be surprised if crap was in the paupers meals. Since then it'd gone through some changes, Roman couldn't care less honestly. But most surprisingly he'd learned, were the five followers following the kid and his consort around. One of them was a familiar face, little red, the brat with a stupidly big scythe. There was one that was strange though, another little red, a woman who looked just like little red but older. Her mother?

Tacking the picture of the five onto the cork board Roman took a step away and stared at the conglomeration of all the info he could scratch up over the last few days. It was nothing but hearsay and the odd pictures. There was nothing about his day to day life apart from those lessons he gave up in Beacon, other then that it was like the kid buried himself in the ground hibernating till he next burrowed out for a lesson. Figuring out a good place to confront him was not going to be a simple task.

A clatter from the side followed by familiar clack of heels halted Roman's thought and drew his head to hanging. "Oh perfect, the witch is here." He groaned and spun on point to face the ironically cold amber glare of sparky. "My, to what do I owe the pleasure? Probably not anything great I'm guessing." Expecting frustration, Roman dug from his coat pocket an unlit cigar and clipped off the end. About to light it up Sparky snapped her fingers and the tip burst into shot lived flames that left its rolled delicacy burn in embers. "Hey! You've learned manners! How surprising." Puffing on the cigar he let out a thick billowing of smoke.

"Each time I see you Roman, I am tempted to incinerate you even more." Cinder growled striding around him to his board of lacking.

"Oh please, that sounds absolutely fantastic. Then I don't have to deal with this painful mystery you and your buddies are up to."

"You keep talking out of line and I'll make this even more painful than what I have planned. What do you know of Parc Evans."

Roman, sipped the cigar and leaned against his desk. "Nothing much. Teacher, murderer, crazy bastard. Works up at beacon apparently. That's about it."

Her brow rose doubtingly his way. "That's it?"

"What? I can't exactly dig something up that doesn't exist. Whoever this Evans bloke is, he's only now coming into the light. Before a few weeks back he didn't exist, and I've searched every where for anyone named 'Evans' and from what I've found is all twenty two of them are dead. So, unless we're dealing with the walking dead, this kid doesn't exist."

Cinder scowled, "useless." her vision drawn to the pictures of five girls as well as that of Glynda Goodwitch dressed up like she was on a night out. "These, who are they?" Her focus drawn to the woman, the older little red, her eyes narrowed doubtingly. Were those silver eyes she saw? She thought they were all gone.

"Students, brats, chipmunks. Call them what you want. They've been following Evans and his little butt buddy on their little date this fine Vale night."

Taking the picture of old little red in hand, Cinder's expression furrowed even further. It was familiar a face. But how? Turning to Roman she held the picture up, "who's this?"

"I don't know," Roman huffed, "probably the mother of the brat," he nodded, Cinder following his gaze to a picture of a younger looking version of the woman dressed in a bright red cloak. Gaze narrowing, Cinder looked down to the picture and frowned, would Salem know? It was worth it to try. Maybe she'd be the key to getting to this Evans, especially if he was already working with Ozpin.

Pivoting, Cinder marched away from the board and into the darkness of the freight crate warehouse, Pausing just before the apex of darkness to turn her flaming eye back towards Roman. "Get more information. Better, information. I want to deal with this man as soon as possible."

"Hey! I've been trying and it's been barely two weeks. You should be happy I even got this much on him!"

Cinder grunted, pried her demons eyes from Roman and faded into the shadows, only the clack of her heels an indicator she was even there.

"Fuckin annoying ass spark plug." Romen fussed under his breath. Before he could even turn back a shattering noise of glass cracking echoed by his side. "How long have you been there Neo?" his palm pressing onto his face as exhaustion echoed like decades across his body.

Neo's only response to shrug, denying him any conclusive answer except the one he'd already guessed.

She'd been there the entire time. She just didn't show herself because she didn't want to deal with sparky.

"Why do I even ask you figure anything out about blacky?"

Tilting his head her way he watched as a smirk rose to Neo's petite face, her hand lifting to cover her mouth as she laughed "fu-fu-fuu."

"The hell do you mean 'fu-fu-fuu!?" Roman gawked as Neo's body cracked and no sooner shattered into a hundred quickly dissipating shards, "Neo! Hey! Come on! What the hell do you mean 'fu-fu-fuu!?' Do you know something or not!?" he stomped around calling out yet found no response from the petite icecream coloured dame. "Neo!"

"If it's not sparky, it's Neo ugh, why did I think crime would be easier than a nine to five."