#white fang lieutenant

[howlingday]

The White Fang Headquarters, deep in the Menagerie jungles...

Adam: DAMMIT! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! We're using the same production methods she did!

Sienna: IT'S NO USE! All of our blind tastings prove hers are superior!

Adam: HOW ARE HERS BETTER?!

Banesaw: I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! (Throws off mask) I'D RATHER DIE THAN DRINK SUBSTANDARD ALCOHOL!

Ilia: Should we apologize and beg the brew-master to come back?!

Adam: DON'T CALL THAT SICK PERVERT BY THAT TITLE! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Adam: Fine! I may have overreacted a bit by banishing her from the islands for life and nearly killing her, but I will not apologize! We of the White Fang NEVER apologize! EVER!

Ilia: ...So, where did she run off to?

Sienna: (Sighs) Last I heard, that weirdo bought some place on the mainland. She mumbled something about "the true balance of all blends" using "the purest of natures of whites and reds".

---------------------------------------------------

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived bitterly in exile after being ostracized from my island home...

But now I see that my banishment was a blessing in disguise. Beyond my prison of jungle and sea and sand, I finally see the truth.

Good wine is grown under an open sky, but a perfect wine is made with fertile soil, open and free air, with much sunshine and much rain. It is nurtured, crafted, and brewed with dignity, respect, patience...

Yang: How's he harvest this year?

...and love.

Blake: The grapes are beautiful, just like you, my love.

Sun: Aw, they're so cute...

Jaune: Right? I wonder what kind of wine these ones will be.

New Isekai...

I Was Exiled From A Terrorist Organization For Loving A Human Woman, So I Recruited Her Mercenary Troupe of Blond Warriors And Built A Legendary Vineyard Harem, And Now My Wine Is So Good The High Leader Is Begging For Me To Come Back, But It's Too Late Because I'm Already Living My Best Life.

[rwbyuser24]

What I expect to see during the new Vacuo Arc

Okay, so these are some ideas of what I hope to see. These are personal predictions and wishes for what could happen.

Again, these are just my ideas. I'm saying that these things might happen, I'm not saying they necessarily will.

Role for the SDC.

The SDC still seems to have facilities and resources. Remember these SDC facilities in Vacuo? They also probably have refineries in Mistral, as well as mines.

It's even possible that there are Dust mines in Vacuo. Think about it, at the crown bunker, the southern tunnel had collapsed and that made the Dust not fully extracted.

It could be that there were other mines which had collapsed and therefore not all of their Dust had been fully extracted. "Cheap labor, dangerous working conditions, doing whatever it takes to destroy the competition, Jacques Schnee doesn't care about people."

Why would Vacuo let the SDC mine that Dust? Look, they're in times of need, it's possible that Vacuo lets that Dust be mined because Remnant's forces need it. What's better? Leaving that Dust buried in the ground, or having Vacuo's huntsmen and police get that Dust? If the Vacuans are rational, they'll allow it.

There's also Mistral. Again, Mistral will continue to allow SDC activity because that's what's needed. Someone needs to mine and refine the Dust.

2.-The Crown dividing Vacuo.

The Crown is made up of ultra-nationalist Vacuans who want revenge against the world as well as restore the monarchy. Right now Vacuo has 2 refugee crises, some coming from Atlas and others from Vale. Under these circumstances it is likely that many are angry at having to share their resources with people from other kingdoms. Vale and Vacuo are fine. But the Atlesians used to colonize Vacuo.

It is possible that Jax will even accuse the refugees of being colonizers. Do you remember the international fleet over Vacuo? Jax would accuse this of being an occupation.

Jax might even blame Ruby and her group for being responsible for this crisis. (I'm not going to argue about whether that's the case or not, let's leave that for later.)

What's more, if the SDC continues mining in Vacuo, Jax might be able to motivate the workers to strike and such. Against the Schnees, I mean.

Salem's Criminal Allies

"It'll be hard to hire thieves and scoundrels to fight against other thieves and scoundrels."

Qrow said that it would be hard to hire thieves and scoundrels to fight against that very thing.

"And while there was a thriving criminal element, it wouldn't be particularly welcoming to a newcomer" It is mentioned that Vacuo has a thriving criminal element.

While Qrow was doubtful that thieves and scoundrels would be hired, in this case Jax can simply mind control them to unify them and have them fight against the Remnant alliance.

And, do you know who is also a criminal and is an ally of Salem? Vermillion Raddock. He is the leader of Hana Guild.

Salem could use Vermillion Raddock to fight against Mistral's forces. Salem simply has to promise the Hana Guild a place in his new world.

Criminal War

There might be criminals who decide to side with the Remnant Alliance. You know, Salem is a threat to everyone.

Who could join? Spider, Branwen tribe, the Xiong family and the White Fang.

They are characters that I like. Lil Miss Malachite and her daughters are quite charismatic. It wouldn't seem strange to me if they wanted to defeat Salem, she and her Grimm could be a threat to the interests of the criminal organization. We got a spin off where they were a central point, I doubt the writers would just throw them away.

The Branwen tribe. Well, since their leader redeemed himself, it could be that Raven leads them in a crusade against Salem.

The Xiong family. As well as Oobleck and Port, it could be that Junior survived, he and his criminal organization.

Regarding the White Fang. Most likely Adam didn't kill them all. There are probably remnants of the organization. I would like to see Banesaw, Perry and Deery lead the organization now and redeem themselves to fight Salem.

Overall, I'm expecting a big battle of armies. The Crown and its army (and Salem and his minions), along with multiple criminal gangs against the Remnant Alliance and some criminal groups.

[rwby-roman-red]

[RWBY: Roman Red] Chapter 1 ~ Criminal Business as Usual (Part 2)

The night before the start of the Vytal Festival, Roman and the White Fang get to know each other better with a bonding exercise - some light robbery! IN THIS PART: It turns out the back door is a very convenient way to enter a building, and Roman meets an old friend.

[RWBY fanfic, canon-compliant alternate timeline. Character focus: Roman Torchwick, White Fang Lieutenant. Chapter and poll under the cut.]

[Previous Part] [Next Part]

Roman turned on his heel, pointing to the White Fang member who’d spoken up about the back of the building. “You, with the talons. What’s your name?”

“Uh-” The Kite Faunus was taken aback for a moment. “Chili. I’m Chili.”

“Chili, Chili, Chili.” Roman slowly walked over, throwing his arm around the Faunus’ shoulders. “I’m a big man, I can admit when there’s a better plan. You’re absolutely, one hundred percent certain there’s a loading door out back?”

“Y-Yes?”

“That didn’t sound very confident.” “YES! Yes, there’s- definitely a loading door behind the building.” Chili replied, shaking out of Roman’s grasp. “I’ve seen it when walking past.”

“Cool! Then we’ve got a plan.” Roman noted. “You brought the duffel bags?” One of the henchmen quickly held up a duffel bag filled with folded duffel bags. “Perfect, perfect~ Let’s make our way to the target, then. See you folks there!”

Before anyone could stop him, Roman danced his way to the edge of the building and casually hopped off. Melodic Cudgel caught on the edge of the building, holding him momentarily and killing his momentum, before Roman pulled his cane up and caught it on a drainage pipe on the underhang of the building. Using his foot to steady himself, he casually slid down the side, using a 90-degree turn in the pipe to catch himself at ground level and casually hop off. With a smile, he tugged down on his hat to cover his face as he moved into the alleyway of the street, making his way towards the rental building.

All things considered, this job was a steal - in more ways than one. Over the past few heists, Roman had bled the Commercial District dry - and in so doing, turned it into a hub for the fuzz. There were only four notable Dust storage sites left in the city that hadn’t already been robbed. One of them was in the Commercial District, another was right next to the freaking police station, the third was all the way in the Residential District and the fourth was in a warehouse all the way in Forever Fall. Fortunately, that fourth had now become a fifth - the products of the hidden forest warehouse now brought to the seaside for a prime sale. It was a wonderful opportunity for Roman, making it so much easier to get that quota filled.

…y’know. Assuming he could fill the quota. There were days Cinder ran him like a whipped horse. And what even was all the Dust going towards? She still hadn’t explained that part…

Roman came out of his reverie upon reaching the back of the rental building. A small parking lot was set up behind it, part of it sectioned off specifically for trucks due to the presence of-

“Well, would ya look at that! A cargo door.” Hooking Melodic Cudgel on his forearm, he lightly clapped as he walked into the parking lot. “And like that, you folks have already proven yourselves much more confident than the last guys I had to work with.”

“The compliment is appreciated.” The voice of the Lieutenant spoke up. The White Fang had seemingly just appeared behind him. Roman didn’t feel like questioning it. They understood the assignment. “The door has a simple chain lock.”

“Yeah, figured they’d be cheapskates like that.” Roman replied. Moving over to the lock, he lifted up Melodic Cudgel before slamming its end down onto the lock, breaking its shackle. The chain almost instantly dropped, only for the Lieutenant to catch it and begin leading it through, the clicks of the moving chain against metal much quieter than it would have been if it had simply dropped. Once the entire chain was removed, Roman and Chili both bent down, grasping the door’s handle and lifting it open.

A small whistle as Roman entered the building, plucking a flashlight from his pocket and flicking it on. The light danced around various display cases and shelves, each holding Dust of all kinds. Some were canisters of liquid Dust, but most were the raw crystal form, processed and unprocessed alike. Lifting his flashlight to his mouth and holding it between his teeth, Roman turned to the White Fang member with the duffle bags and snapped his fingers. The signal was received, the group quickly getting their duffle bags distributed among them.

“Right!” Lifting the flashlight out, Roman turned to the group. “Elder, Chili, with me. Everyone else-” With Melodic Cudgel, he gestured to the display. “-smash and grab.”

The White Fang were naturals. One of the group elbowed the glass of a display case, plucking out a Dust crystal between each finger. Another got to work unscrewing the liquid Dust canister itself instead of bottling the Dust individually, and the third pulled over a chair to get at the high shelves. It almost brought a tear to Roman’s eye. He really was working with professional Dust thieves…

“What are we doing?” Chili asked.

“My young friend, this building has three floors.” Roman replied. “We’re headed upstairs. Lieutenant-!”

Elder raised a leg, kicking down the door to the staircase. No key needed.

“Well, that works.”

Jovially, Roman and his two companions made their way upstairs. As expected, the second floor was far less organized. It was mostly filled with shipping containers and pieces of furniture that didn’t fit into the display, many branded with the Schnee Dust Company logo. He heard the audible hiss made by the Lieutenant as the crates came into view. A radio seemed to be positioned on one of the crates as well, giving off some idle tunes. Country music, it sounded like.

“There’s probably some Dust they’re keeping in reserve.” Roman noted. “It’d be bad business to put everything out front on the first day of a month-long festival. Might be more than we can take, but see what you can grab, yeah?”

With that, the three moved out to the boxes. The Lieutenant threw one open, scooping crystals into the bag. Chili managed to get his hands on a case already filled with Dust, holding it separately from the duffle bag he was filling. As for Roman… He walked a bit further in than the others. Walking towards the radio, he saw one of the cases was half-open, more than a few pieces of Dust present. With a smile, he flicked the case open and started scooping the Dust crystals into his bag. He smiled at the size of the chunks he was pulling out, lifting a piece of snow white Dust up to eye level to inspect it and see how it caught the light.

…hold up. Within the reflection of the Dust crystal, the side of the radio showed something Roman hadn’t seen before. A name written on the side… Roch?

Roman had milliseconds to spare as he rolled out of the way, the end of his hat grazing against a row of spikes. The blade carved into the wooden box he’d been right in front of, grunts coming from the hands Roman could barely see holding onto it with his flashlight rolling across the room.

“CHILI, HIT THE LIGHTS!” Roman ordered.

“Okay?!” The confused Faunus replied, quickly running to the light switch and flicking it to life.

As the second floor’s cheap lamp fixtures hummed, Dust triggering to spark illumination into the room, the jagged end of a staff retracted as it reduced to half size, a sharp three-pronged claw visible on its other end. Stepping out from behind a makeshift hiding place of several empty boxes placed together was a man adorned with long silver hair and a messy, unshaven fuzz-beard. His gray sleeveless shirt was torn in several places, his belt held many pockets, his loose-fitting pants ran down to steel-studded combat boots and his eyes were filled with hatred for the man he saw in front of him.

“Roman Torchwick.”

“My, my!” Climbing to his feet, Roman spread his arms jovially as he paced back, giving himself some more room as he moved to not have his back against the wall anymore. “If it ain’t the Szalt of the earth. How’s it going, buddy?”

“I ain’t your BUDDY!” The man yelled out. The Huntsman-turned-mercenary practically flung himself towards Roman, the serrated end of his staff aiming to cleave off a limb. “You… YOUUUU can’t stay out of my LIFE!”

Grabbing onto the end of Melodic Cudgel, he hooked its handle around Roch’s staff’s length to force it to the side as he slid past him and back towards the White Fang. “I’d argue it’s more that you keep taking jobs for the types of bastards I like stealing from, but hey, blame me for your incompetence all you want, ex-Huntsman.”

Roch Szalt’s eyes flared. He leapt forward to smash Roman with a punch - only to have an empty box thrown into him, knocking the man to the back of the room.

Lieutenant Elder stepped to Roman’s side, crossing his arms. “Missing some context here.”

“That sad sack of a human being-” He pointed to the recovering Huntsman. “-is Roch Szalt. Tried to stop me on my first bank heist in Vale, got his rear end promptly handed to him and destroyed more of the bank than I did in the process, getting himself fired as a Huntsman. Tends to take on defense gigs for people with money to spare. Typical braindead human muscle.”

“Hm.” Elder’s mask tipped slightly. “Shall I step in?”

Now, that was a thought. As much as Roman was willing to make fun of Roch’s sad existence, it was true that their second fight had left Roman with a torn-open left leg and bruises from a ten-feet fall. All over… coffee. (Shame that scheme hadn’t worked out for particularly long.) Some help would probably be appreciated, especially considering Neo was busy becoming a Haven transfer student for… whatever Cinder’s greater plan was. The Lieutenant seemed more than qualified, and could be an easy helping hand.

On the other hand, this was about earning the White Fang’s trust as much as it was about them earning his. If Roman showed weakness here, it could compromise that first impression and make it harder to work together. By the same coin, if he beat Szalt single-handedly and bought more time for the others to get the loot, it’d make him more respectable as a leader and business partner…

There was a choice to be made here.

[marcmarcmomarc]

RWBY Volume 10-onwards new voice actor predictions: Salem’s Inner Circle

Robbie Daymond as Tyrian Callows (succeeding Jessie James Grelle)

Carrie Keranen as Carmine Esclados

Matt Mercer as Jax Asturias

Jessica DiCicco as Gillian Asturias

Stephanie Sheh as Umber Gorgoneion

Kira Buckland as Rosa Schwein (The Crown)

Ray Chase as Argento Pocoron (The Crown)

Christopher Wehkamp as White Fang Lieutenant

Laura Post as Beatrix “Lady Beat” Browning (Lady Browning’s Preparatory Academy for Girls)

Patrick Seitz as Vermillion Raddock

Roger Craig Smith as Sil

Mike Pollack as Marton

Rebecca Honig as Mina Lavender

Jeannie Tirado as Khaki

[unofficialadamtaurus]

As I have read some fanfics with Adam and Bane being friends/the closest thing Adam has as a friend, in your stories what do you imagine for these two?

I see it as a professional relationship that toes the line of brotherly. Bane would be happy if Adam would open up just a little, but Adam is so fixated on his goals that he’s not really even aware Bane wants that.

Basically Bane is the guy at Adam’s side too loyal to Adam and the cause to speak up and tell Adam to slow down, but not so loyal he can’t feel conflicted about staying silent.

[blue-cheeseinmyoffwhites]

Hey so, what's Adam's Lieutenant's allusion?

Lieutenant “Banesaw” Allusion

Before I start, Thank you for the ask. I want to take this time to remind everyone that my asks are open, ask me anything about my thoughts on RWBY, character discussions, allusion analysis, etc etc.

White Fang Lieutenant “nicknamed Banesaw by the FNDM” made his debut in Volume 2 as a spokesman for the White Fang rally.

He is next seen in No Brakes, fighting Weiss Schnee (with a chainsaw) in a very violent manner, and obviously going for blood: “finally, I get to kill a Schnee”.

Because he is a minor character, Banesaw’s allusion is a “one & done” kind of deal. In order for this allusion to make sense, let me quickly detour you to another fight that happens on the train, Yang vs Neo.

There’s a reason these two go up against each other, and it comes down to their allusions. Neo is based off of Trivia, the goddess of the triple crossroads. This explains her whole triple ice cream motif (more on Neo’s allusion in link below because Tumblr's new update is dumb). Yang is based off of Goldilocks, who gets into trouble with the three bears. Therefore, Yang gets in trouble with the goddess of three, Neo.

Now back to Banesaw. He fights Weiss, who is based off of Snow White, and basically tries to kill her. He has a connection with Faunus, who relate to animals, and fights with a chainsaw. The most fitting candidate for his allusion is the huntsman in the woods, from the Snow White Story.

The huntsman was sent by the Evil Queen to kill Snow White. He finds her in the forest, talking to animals, and goes for the kill. Now in the story, he doesn’t go through with it. But in RWBY, he definitely tries to. He finds Weiss Schnee as she progresses through her heist against the White Fang, people with animal characteristics, and fights her with a chainsaw, a tool used for cutting down trees in a forest.

Like I said, Banesaw is a one and done character, so his allusion is kinda plain and simple, but what may seem like minor characters actually play bigger roles in the RWBY narrative once you dive into their allusions (see Henry Marigold’s allusion in link below).

[aceironwood]

OCIN: Beacons of Hope Volume 2 - Chapter 4

Chapter 16: Volume 2, Chapter 4 is now available!

Chae-Yeong and the Branwens visit an underground fight club in Vale during their search for Torchwick. But plans change as they find that Torchwick is attendance at this fight club too-- and he’s recruiting

[uncaught-coolfish]

HI

[fanstuffrantings]

Me: well I'm going to go to the wiki and see what information they have for other people Roman had as underlings at some point so I can use them!

Wiki: lists no one but Neo

Me: okay cool so I guess I'm creating the stand in again

[littleblackqrow]

@slaughtermachine​  (🍷)

“Actually, I came to see how you were holding up ‘n if you needed anything,” Qrow said blandly, even though his expression was puzzled. Qrow hadn’t been near the man; why would his semblance have something to do with this? 

While it was obvious that Qrow was concerned about his sometimes bartender’s health, his stance was almost too loose. He leaned against the wall at a respectable distance, hands shoved in his pockets. Almost casually, he remarked, “I also needed to follow up on just what you were doing to get shot. Cant be too careful, if someone’s going around shooting unsuspecting folk.”

[saltwukong]

Did y'all know that Hazel is apparently 8 feet tall.

[howlingday]

Can Trifa hear someone using only vibration?

Trifa: (Hangs up picture)

Ilia: It's... a dragon?

Adam: No, it's a cow.

Sienna: Obviously, it's a cat.

Banesaw: No! It's definitely a-

Trifa: GET OUT OF MY ROOM!

Fun Fact! Certain spider species, such as Argiope Trifasciata, will decorate their webs with stabilimentum, which are web decorations. Though the purpose of making these decorations is unclear, there are a few hypotheses, such as to make the spider appear larger than it actually is, as a warning sign to other insects, or to make the web less likely to be damaged by larger animals like birds.

[diejager]

On monster Au how did human reader meet Vampire Graves and the shadow?? 🤔

I’m guessing you mean the one from Turned? Since Only Human happens after the MW2 campaign.

You met them a few weeks after being contracted into TF-141, signing NDAs after NDAs before actually signing your contract. Laswell and Price were clear on the fact that end thing that went on during missions were to stay confidential —classified, especially with the TF being comprised of hybrids, some from UK, an American, a Russian and a ULF commander.

You knew they heads were General Shepherd and CIA station chief Kate Laswell, with missions spearheaded by Captain John Price, a dragon hybrid, and Lieutenant Riley, the wraith, as the second in command. They’re an extremely decorated TF, with a reputation to back up their decisions and badges. You were another sergeant, human in genetics and appearance, with little to talk about apart from your experience in silent infiltration, trained in hand-to-hand combat with a knife than utilizing a gun. You were taught to fight dirty, using what you could to win, a knife, a broken bottle or the sharp end of a broken plank, you were a stealthy killer, an assassin of sorts.

You’ve only heard of Shadow Company, word of mouth to ear with good things about them, how powerful and tight knit the PMC was. You weren’t surprised to hear that they worked closely with 141 and its allies, but you were surprised that they shared banter and seemed on a good foot. Especially Graves, the vampire and master of all his thralls, who started most conversation with a quick quip or smug remark.

It even shocked you how friendly he was towards you, standing close with a hand on your shoulder, his rugged face smiling down at your, confident and comforting. His grin was teasing, flashing his fangs so openly around you. He’d throw a few taunts hidden under praises: “Look at the pretty neck, soft skin and perfect. Bet you’re sweet, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

Graves was also brutally honest, speaking his mind about decisions and choices made by others and even criticizing his men when they messed up. He controlled them, mind and body, reborn from his blood and remade in his expectations, but they worked in perfect rhythm, working as if they were one cell.

So, when their leader made a move on you, the rest did, often sitting beside you, keeping a hand on you, hungry for any physical touch or a whiff of your blood, the smell of your ichor that exhumed from your uncovered skin: your neck and your wrists. They would flash their fangs, gleaming under the white light of the mess hall, a threat that kept your surrounded and trapped between them.

Although they were friendly whenever you worked with Shadow Company, the constant attention and hungry, red eyes had made you somewhat uncomfortable, so much so that the rest of the TF cued in on it. Soap would stick to your side, hackles raised and eyes narrowed when some Shadows would approach you, being too handsy with you. If you weren’t with Soap, Gaz would bring you to his side with a wing, stretched behind to cover you in a protective shield to deter the thralls. The true deterrent was Ghost, looming behind you in his dark glory, growling and glaring at anyone who approached you without even touching you or standing too close. Price worked well, they wouldn’t bother the captain because they feared fire, because an angry dragon was a slow and painful death.

But that never stopped Graves from approaching you, tongue running over his lower lip and over the sharpness of his fang, red eyes gleaming brightly and looking handsome with his sun-kissed skin, blonde hair and southern accent, the sexy drawl of his words.

“Be a doll and c’m’here, won’t you?”

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @kaelysia @mixplara @notspiders

[rwby-roman-red]

[RWBY: Roman Red] Chapter 1 ~ Criminal Business as Usual (Part 1)

The night before the start of the Vytal Festival, Roman and the White Fang get to know each other better with a bonding exercise - some light robbery! IN THIS PART: Roman vents about his previous hires and everyone has their own idea for how to break into a building.

[RWBY fanfic, canon-compliant alternate timeline. Character focus: Roman Torchwick, White Fang Lieutenant. Chapter and poll under the cut.]

[Previous Part] [Next Part]

The Thursday Night prior to the 40th Vytal Festival’s Beginning.

The sun was down, the lights in most buildings were off and most people were off the streets. Just how Roman liked it.

A puff of his cigar mixed into the salty sea air of the docks. Roman was firmly seated on top of one of the buildings in the Industrial District, looking out to the westernmost point of the City of Vale. He couldn’t help it - the ships caught his eye. A variety of vessels all coming in from Vacuo (or Patch, he could see a few ships were docked there for the night), all for the event of the year - the Vytal Festival. A celebration of unity where saps from across the world came by to partake in the festivities and have their best students beat the crap out of each other on live television. A sigh escaped Roman’s mouth. Part of him wished he was still just a run-of-the-mill thief at a time like this. Oh, how many hapless pockets could he pick?

The approaching footsteps snapped him out of his reverie. No more dreaming of picking pockets when the job was to run the target dry. Roman allowed his cigar to simply fall out of his mouth, crushing it under his heel as he stood up and turned.

“Well, about time you all showed up. What, needed to grab some catnip for the road?”

The White Fang clearly weren’t amused by his remark. He didn’t need them to be. Roman wasn’t quite used to working with these folk yet - Cinder putting him in contact with the group in the first place in order to buy Dust off of them was a surprise and a half - but that was the point of the mission. A local White Fang leader stood across from Roman, a full-face mask hiding his features. Four grunts stood behind him. The leader wore metal vambraces but a sleeveless top, a black tattoo pattern visible on his left arm.

“I was told you were a man of jokes.” He crossed his arms.

“Sure am!” Roman threw open his arms. “For example, I thought hiring Junior Xiong’s goons for Dust heists would be a smart idea when they couldn’t so much as land a hit on a little red girl.” No, he totally wasn’t still bitter about that failed heist, what would ever give you that idea? “I just love… jokes. But there’s a problem with them.” He walked closer to the White Fang members, pulling down on the brim of his hat as he did. “You get to know enough comedy, you lose out on sincerity. And when you’re a businessman… that can be a problem.”

“Get to the point.” The man scowled.

“Alright, alright!” Roman held his arms up defensively as he backed off. “Let’s be clear here. I’ve worked with some hired goons recently that leave me concerned about their reliability. You White Fang, well… I know for a fact you’re better than Xiong’s men, at least. You don’t earn a reputation like yours from doing nothing. But I can’t help but be worried that we may not work well together!”

Which would be very, very bad for all parties involved. Roman didn’t say that part out loud, but he was fully aware of just how displeased Cinder would be if he couldn’t cooperate with the White Fang. While he still wasn’t sure just what Cinder had at her fingertips, her connections concerned him. If nothing else, Roman knew she was a dangerous woman - and he wasn’t quite ready to take a bet against her unknown potential.

“So here’s the deal.” Roman tapped Melodic Cudgel in between himself and the White Fang members. “Tonight, we’re doing this Dust heist together. Consider this a test of sorts to see if we’ve got workplace chemistry, yeah?”

The grunts were now on the back foot. They clearly hadn’t been informed they’d be working with a human. Their leader, however, stepped forward. “I have orders to cooperate with you, Torchwick. They had better not be mistaken.” The man put his hand forward for a handshake.

He hesitated for a moment due to the opposite man’s firm grip, but eventually clasped the opposite hand and shook. “Pleasure doing business with ya. Let’s make this a good one, mister… uh…” He released the handshake, scratching his head. “Actually, I have no idea who you are.”

“Lieutenant Elder.” The Faunus replied. He crossed his arms once again.

“Pleasure meetin’, Elder.” The charlatan smiled. He lightly patted the Lieutenant on the shoulder as he walked past, striding through the group of White Fang. Reaching the end of the building, he pointed Melodic Cudgel’s edge towards a street below. “Now then, let’s talk shop! You see that building down there?”

The rest of the group followed Roman’s gaze. On one end, the street led to the docks - on the other, it led to a large three-story building. A curved roof covered beige brick walls, solid gray dividers outlining the split between floors. The top two floors held nothing apparent from the outside save for 3x3 blue glass windows. The bottom floor was the actual notable point. Two glass windows and a wooden double-door made up the entrance to a store front, a cloth awning shading them and covering the entry from rain. Two more gray dividers, vertical instead of horizontal, brought attention to the storefront by boxing it in. A large sign holder was attached to the top, but hadn’t yet been filled out.

“That’s definitely a new shop.” One of the White Fang members pointed out. “Doesn’t look like they’re even done setting up.”

“Yeah, the building’s a rental.” Another one mentioned. “I live in the area. Businesses usually rent the place out seasonally.”

“Correctamundo!” Roman interrupted the pair. “And this time, the rentee is an eager Dust dealer aiming to take advantage of all the innocent, naive shoppers coming in from afar.” He hunched down on the roof’s edge. “Some special sources are letting me know that this building is chock full of Dust ripe for the taking. Security shouldn’t be set up yet and the actual owners are in the Commercial District. Save for a night guard or two, this is practically taking candy from nepobabies.”

“What’s the plan?” One of the grunts asked, looking at Elder. He simply shrugged, pointing to Roman. “The human’s the boss for now.”

“Oh, the plan is simple.” Roman rose back up to his feet and walked away from the edge. “We’ll simply waltz on down, kick the door in and grab everything.”

Several seconds of silence. Roman looked back, confused, to see astonishment on the faces of his coworkers.

“That’s… the plan?”

“Sure is!” Pause. “Something wrong with it?”

“W-Won’t that have the cops on us in seconds?!” One of the members - a newer one, clearly - seemed to be very concerned about this plan of action.

Roman simply waved it off. “Nah, no chance. I’ve been scouting out the fuzz’s movements as of late. The closest dispatch would be on the other side of the river - we’ve got plenty of time to bail before they get here.”

“The new recruit has a point.” The Lieutenant spoke up. “It’s an unnecessary risk. The White Fang are used to striking from the shadows, not marching down the street. We should enter in secret.”

“We’re already on the roofs.” One of the members suggested. “Why not see if we can get into the building from above?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a cargo door in the back.” The local White Fang member suggested. “We could try to get through there?”

Roman’s first instinct, of course, was to tell them to shut up and go with his plan. He suppressed it. No one in this town was stupid enough to try and get in his way at the sight of him (well, except for Red…), but the White Fang clearly lacked the same respect for him. Expectedly so, granted, considering he was a human. Going with one of the alternative plans could help to curry favor with the White Fang, potentially making future schemes easier… He’d have to consider this.

[unofficialadamtaurus]

The sequel (companion?) to this drawing

[rainintheevening]

The day 19-year-old Peter Pevensie ships out for the Mediterranean, lieutenant's commission and a COs commendation in hand, he's all tall, golden boy in British khaki with a soft smile and a merry laugh and oddly old eyes.

His socks are hand-knitted, with his initials PWP worked in around the top. He wears a small golden lion on a leather string around his neck, tucked under his shirt alongside his dogtags.

In his kit bag he carries a Bible, new, brown leather, not too big to be jammed in a pocket. The writing on the first page is tidy, a little squared off, no blots: June 1943, Peter, my brother, my captain, my king. We are all held safe between the paws of the Lion. Ephesians 6:10-18.

Tucked in beside that is a small, chunky book of Spurgeon's sermons, with Prof. Digory Kirke in the corner of the flyleaf, and a loose-leaf of paper that Peter uses for a bookmark, precious though it is, covered in his father's barely legible scratch.

There's a hand-bound book of poems, copied by Lucy and collected with several of Susan's watercolours, all trees like old friends and flowers like stars and rolling English hills. It will take months for those pages to stop smelling like home.

Next to that is tucked a sturdy little journal, pencil attached and fat with empty cream-coloured pages. It will take only a week for it to lose its clean smell, and the many words scribbled there will make it fatter still.

Three others are piled in around those—a beat-up hardback novel stripped of its dust jacket and stamped as White Fang, a bright new George MacDonald novel with Be brave, my son, and may the adventure always bring you safely home. Mother penned inside, and another naked hardback identified along its spine as The Aeneid.

Some eyebrows get raised at the extra weight of that library, but Peter is charming and humble, and he'll be the only one to suffer from it anyway.

A little more than two years later Peter Pevensie will return with a captain’s epaulets on his shoulders, and the same soft smile on a leaner, browner face.

He will be wearing an entirely different pair of socks, but still ones that have PWP worked into the stripes along the top.

The leather string will be gone, and so will the little gold lion, folded into a shaking hand, given with a murmured prayer and a kiss pressed to salty fevered forehead, somewhere on the side of an Italian mountain.

The books will be nearly all there. The Bible, wrinkled with water damage, fingerprinted with little dark smears, it's cover scored with a smokey black streak. The poetry, cared for so carefully; the sermons, well earmarked and notated; the MacDonald novel now sans dust jacket, spine cracked, and with grit worked into its creases.

The Aeneid will still be there, though greatly altered thanks to the bullet buried in the upper half of it.

White Fang will be missing, left in the hands of a wildly curious, dream-eyed Arab boy, who will pick up English like a starving man picks up food, and will cry when the Fighting Fifth gets shipped back to Italy. There will be a black and white photograph tucked into its pages— four soldiers surrounding a tall, fair-haired one with a thin dark-headed boy standing high atop his shoulders, arms raised as if he would fall forward into flight, all smiling.

Peter will carry the journal home in his pocket, all muddy and smoky, all smeared with pencil lead and sweat, bloody fingerprints on a few pages, heavy with a thousand and one thoughts, the unburdening of his heart, all ready to be placed in his brother’s hands.

Peter Pevensie will return like his books, with dirt in the creases, a little worn, a little tattered, a little scarred. But his wise old (kingly) eyes... they shine the same way when he smiles, sun in his golden hair.