Two Wrongs Make a Right Ch.34

Ilia found herself standing outside Adam's office once again, this time carrying a stack of reports that needed his approval. Usually this wouldn't be her job, but Trifa had been sent to help with the investigation of the recent murder of her clan's heir, so it was obvious she wouldn't be available to perform her usual duties.

Not that she was complaining. Hers and Adam's work were so different that it really didn't give them much time together, so this was the best chance to learn more in depth about his work. She could take this as a short rest from her constant training and maybe... spend some quality time with her boyfriend.

The thought still made her skin shift to a faint pink. Boyfriend. Even after their conversation at the beach weeks ago, the word felt surreal on her tongue.

She knocked twice and waited.

"Enter."

The sight that greeted her was quite normal - her High-Leader, Chieftain, and now boyfriend Adam Taurus seated at his desk, working through mountains of paperwork. Ilia had to agree with him that it was rather ironic that someone of his position would be stuck working behind a desk instead of leading from the front.

Although after slaying two behemoths, he'd more than earned a long rest from the battlefield.

He raised his gaze as she entered, and his expression immediately softened into that, one that made her heart skip. "So you'll be my temporary secretary today, Ilia. Lucky me."

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress her own smile. "Don't get used to it." She walked up to his desk and handed over the stack of reports, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. "They told me to bring them to you quickly, so I didn’t read them yet.”

"Thank you." He accepted the papers, quickly skimming through the top few. "Ah, so Sandrift village has started sending their own proposals. A little later than expected." He leaned back and glanced at the substantial pile of remaining work. "Would you like to help? I could use an extra pair of eyes on some of these."

Ilia blinked in surprise, then looked at the mountain of paperwork with something approaching dread. "You want me to help with... all of that?"

He shrugged. "Why not? You'll need to learn about this, eventually. Combat strength and personal ability aren't everything when leading our people - you know that, don't you?"

Adam was right. She was a Lieutenant, confident in her strength and abilities, but she'd been neglecting other skills. The realization stung a little.

"Sure, I'll do my best," she said, pulling a chair to settle across from his desk. "But if I mess something up, that's on you for trusting me with it."

"I have complete faith in you," he replied simply and resumed his work.

She reached for a modest stack of documents, determined not to let him down. The first few papers were policy adjustments, at least she believed that’s what they meant because they were written in dense administrative language that made her eyes glaze over. Legal jargon, procedural amendments, regulatory updates - it was like reading a foreign language designed specifically to induce headaches.

But as she continued, she found something she could actually understand: budget allocations. Numbers, calculations, worker headcounts, wage adjustments. This was concrete, logical. 

She could work with this.

The document outlined increased funding for expanded security forces due to growing personnel numbers. She carefully checked the calculations, cross-referencing the new headcount against proposed wage increases and it even had another paper attached with the old numbers. The math was solid, projections reasonable, and the justification more than clear.

Satisfied, she reached for Adam's extra seal of approval, stamped the document with a satisfying thunk, and placed it in his "ready to sign" pile.

That's when she noticed Adam had already processed nearly a quarter of his original stack in the time it had taken her to complete just one document.

"Wha-Wow," she breathed without thinking.

Adam's gaze snapped up from his current document. "Something wrong?"

Heat crept up her neck. "No, nothing's wrong. Just... you work really fast. Like, really fast."

He chuckled softly. "Years of practice. Plus, I had the best teachers."

Kali was probably the best teacher and scholar in all of Menagerie, that was true.

Ilia nodded and returned to her work, searching through the remaining papers for more budget-related items she could actually comprehend. Financial reports, resource allocations, supply chain logistics - these she could handle without feeling completely lost.

She found a proposal from what was euphemistically called a "shipping company" but were obviously smugglers, many weren’t cutthroats as one would imagine but there one could still find them. They were asking for exclusive trading rights and a thirty percent cut of all goods moved through their network. The audacity was almost impressive.

"Absolutely not," she muttered, crossing out the proposal and adding it to what she decided was the rejection pile.

The next document was a maze of convoluted political jargon that made her head throb the more she read. Subsections referencing other subsections, amendments to amendments, conditional clauses that seemed to contradict themselves.

"Why do people write like this?" she asked, frustration bleeding into her voice. 

"That's politics," Adam replied without looking up. "Half the art is saying nothing while appearing to say everything."

"That's stupid."

"Welcome to governance."

She persevered through the bureaucratic nightmare, slowly developing a system. Documents with clear numbers went to one pile, incomprehensible legal texts went to another for Adam to handle, and obvious rejections went to a third.

When she finally finished her stack and looked up, Adam was already setting down his pen with a satisfied sigh, rolling his neck to work out the kinks.

"Done on my end," he announced, calmly taking her unfinished stack and diving in.

Watching him work was genuinely mesmerizing. Despite he was still wearing his blindfold she could tell that his eyes moved across each page very fast, his expression barely shifting as he absorbed complex information that made her head hurt and made a decision. The sheer volume of administrative work he processed was almost unbelievable.

Something she could never achieve…

"I know that expression," Adam said without looking away. "Don't sell yourself short. You just need practice, and Kali always has an available seat in her classes."

Ilia laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Is it that obvious?"

"You get this little furrow between your eyebrows when you're doubting yourself." He glanced up briefly, and she felt her cheeks warm. "It's actually quite cute."

"Flatterer," she mumbled, though she was smiling.

He signed the last of her documents with quick, practiced strokes before adding them to his completed pile. "There we go. Thank you for the help - you saved me some time"

"Really?"

"Really. You handled your work pretty well despite it being your first time, and sorting the rest by complexity was smart thinking."

That wasn't her intention but technically she did sort them out by how complex they were in her opinion.

Either way, the praise made her feel warm all over. "Well, I guess it's time to deliver all these papers, right?"

Adam nodded thoughtfully, then leaned back in his chair. "Yes, but first you'll now need to sort them by department, then hand each stack to the respective office and check if they have additional reports or requests pending. After that bring everything to me and repeat the process again."

Ilia looked at the mountain of papers, already imagining how long it would take to sort through everything and make multiple trips across the compound.

She was already mentally preparing herself until Adam's lips twitched. "I'm joking. I already sorted them while I was working."

"Jerk." She stuck out her tongue at him. "So I just need to deliver them?"

"Actually, no. Give me a moment." He then pressed his earpiece. "Pod 3, report to my office."

Moments later, Pod 3 arrived through the open window. "REPORTING FOR DUTY."

"Take these to their respective departments," Adam instructed, gesturing to the sorted stacks.

"UNDERSTOOD." With the order given, Pod efficiently collected the first batch of papers and departed through the same window.

Adam turned back to her with a satisfied smirk. "Now you're free for the afternoon."

Ilia blinked, then felt a slow smile spread across her face. "Now what?" 

"Well," Adam said, standing and moving around his desk toward her, "I can think of a few ways …"

The way he said it, combined with that expression, made her skin involuntarily shift through many shades of pink before settling on a deep rose. Her mind immediately began wandering to decidedly stuff she knew wasn’t exactly pure thoughts - the kind that would definitely require privacy and probably shouldn't happen in his office where anyone could walk in, but still...

Not that she would mind, of course. They were together now, officially, and it had been weeks since their confession at the beach. The thought of finally being able to express her feelings properly, to let him touch her and feel those strong arms hold and lift her small body…

"I was thinking we could take a walk around the plaza," Adam said casually, completely oblivious to the direction her thoughts had taken. "Get some fresh air, maybe grab something to eat from the stalls. It’s been a while since we did that."

Ilia's fantasies came crashing back to earth with an almost audible thud. Her skin flickered rapidly between deep blue and red embarrassment before settling on pale white as she struggled to regain control.

Once she did she crossed her arms and fixed him with an indignant pout. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

Adam raised an eyebrow, taking the picture of innocence. "Doing what?"

She would have believed that innocent look if it wasn't for the subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Nothing," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she headed toward the door. "Absolutely nothing."

Adam followed close behind, and she could practically feel his amusement radiating off him. "Are you sure? You seem a little... flustered."

"I'm not flustered," she shot back, though her traitorous skin was still showing hints of pink in her freckles. "I'm just... thinking."

"Thinking about what, exactly?"

She whirled around to face him, caught between embarrassment and exasperation. "You know what, Adam."

"Know what?" He looked so genuinely perplexed that she almost believed he wasn't doing this on purpose. Almost.

"Forget it," she sighed, reaching for the door handle. "Let's just go for your innocent little walk."

As they stepped into the hallway, Adam fell into step beside her, his longer stride easily matching her pace. The compound was bustling with afternoon activity - White Fang members heading to training, administrative staff carrying reports, the familiar sounds of their growing organization.

"You know," he said, suddenly catching her off guard by slipping his arm around her waist, "if you wanted to do something else, you could have just said so."

The casual way he whispered it so close to her ear made her shudder. The fact that he'd spent the last five minutes acting completely oblivious made her stop dead in her tracks.

"I hate you," she said, though there was no real heat in it.

"No, you don't." His smug smile told her he knew exactly what kind of thoughts had been running through her head. "You love me. You said so yourself."

Her skin flushed a brilliant magenta as she quickly stepped away from him. "That's... that's not the point!"

"Then what is the point?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find words that wouldn't make her sound like a complete mess. "The point is... you're... were you always this insufferably cheeky?!"

"Only when I'm happy," he replied, and the simple honesty in those words made her chest tighten despite her embarrassment.

She punched his chest - not hard enough to hurt, just enough to express herself.

Adam laughed, the sound echoing down the hallway and drawing curious glances from passing members. "Come on," he said, gently taking her hand and intertwining their fingers. "My treat."

Despite her embarrassment, Ilia found herself smiling as they made their way through the rest of the compound. She couldn't help but notice the looks they were getting - some surprised, some knowing, all respectful. Word of their relationship seemed to have spread, as she'd expected it would, but seeing the acceptance in her comrades' faces warmed her heart.

Although, they were part of their growing faction.

Maybe a simple walk wasn't such a bad idea after all. They had time now, although she was perfectly aware that this was the calm before the storm. But still she would enjoy all the moments she could get.

The thought made her skin shift to a soft pink again, and this time she didn't bother pushing it aside. For now, she was just going to enjoy spending time with her boyfriend like any normal faunus would.

Even if said boyfriend seemed determined to make her lose her calm at every opportunity.

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

-Adam Taurus, Vale city-

A city for everyone and one that shows a unique beauty that can be appreciated from many angles.

Or so they say.

Just like during my escape, I saw those ill-maintained streets and buildings, the ugly or more forced-functional architecture. Once more I return to that zone.

Though this time, instead of looking for an escape route back to my home, I'm inside a building in the residential district; another particularly run-down area that speaks volumes about the city's pronounced social stratification beyond just the racial one. The evidence for that assessment is everywhere: littered streets, building facades showing clear signs of neglect, and the weary, defeated attitude of the pedestrians I observed on my way here, along with the few people lying on the streets covered with plastic bags or sleeping on corners with cardboard as beds.

The kingdoms must have invested heavily in defense to let so much negativity gather like this.

I'm currently in what appears to be an abandoned apartment. The place bears thick layers of dust coating on every surface, with no belongings visible anywhere, and a spartan emptiness that suggests long-term vacancy. I made certain to sweep the entire place for any hidden cameras, microphones, or security devices. Even with company defenses, I cannot lower my guard.

Of course, there isn't a safer place than my home in the pocket dimension, but I need to establish small outposts. I cannot rely on everything being in a single location; it would be counterproductive.

"Nines, you can come in."

The red portal materializes on the wall, and Nines steps through, immediately offering a crisp military salute as she always does.

"Commander! I hope I'm not late." 

“Always on time.” I give her a nod, and she moves directly toward an old wooden table in the center of the room, pausing to examine the dust particles floating in the air. 

"Fascinating how organic matter accumulates in abandoned spaces. The decay patterns here suggest approximately... three months of vacancy, give or take a few weeks."

She blows forcefully across the table's surface, creating a thick cloud of dust that forces me to wave it away. "Apologies, Commander! I shouldn’t have done that."

I merely shake my head and continue waving the dust away.

Once the air clears, she unfurls a detailed hand-drawn map across the now-cleaner surface; a comprehensive layout of the special prison facility where Roman Torchwick is currently imprisoned, including the surrounding industrial district. And to top it all off, it also has plenty of notes attached.

Although, it strikes me as unusual that Nines drew this map by hand instead of using her digital mapping or delegating it to Pod who could make a holographic and intractable map. 

Maybe she wanted to show off. She's looking at me with expectant eyes now that I notice it, with a rather subtle glance that seems almost... hopeful?

"I know what you're thinking, Commander," she says, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. "Why hand-drawn when I have superior digital mapping capabilities? Well, I discovered that manual cartography allows for better retention of spatial relationships and provides redundancy in case of digital interference. Plus..." She pauses, looking slightly embarrassed. "I found the process oddly satisfying. Is that... normal for information gathering?"

Regardless, the map is impressively detailed, and I quickly start memorizing it while taking a copy for later.

Only then do I look at her with a smile. "Good work, Nines."

Nines positively beams at the praise before pointing to specific locations and explaining the facility's structure and each area. "Thank you, Commander! I've sent detailed information in reports over the past weeks, but my curiosity wouldn't let me stop there. I've been gathering additional data from all publicly available sources—the 24/7 streams are particularly illuminating about human behaviour in confined spaces. I've also been conducting careful system infiltrations to acquire more comprehensive intelligence without risking my safety."

She leans forward, her analytical excitement becoming more apparent. "However, there's something quite intriguing I discovered; a consistent pattern of reduced personnel during certain time periods. Not during standard shift changes, which would be predictable and reasonable, but rather a more informal reduction which implies abandoning posts. Maybe they are so overconfident of the facility's top notch security that they simply escape their work or very laid back."

She then traces routes with her finger. "This staffing gap would provide optimal timing for infiltration and extraction of your objective. The tendency towards establishing routines creates these fascinating vulnerabilities."

I lean forward, studying the map and where she's pointing with her finger. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"Oh, I have several actually!" Her eyes light up with that characteristic analytical enthusiasm. "But there's one I would prefer due its simplicity."

Yes, I was finally going to break Roman out of his cell. 

“Tell me.”

Nines straightens her posture, shifting into her more formal mode. "Affirmative. From all the hacked data, I can confirm that the facility relies heavily on their Atlesian systems and automated security protocols. Since I've had the opportunity to study their architecture extensively—and I must say, their security design philosophy is quite interesting from a technological standpoint—I can initiate a targeted cyber attack to cause a facility-wide power outage."

She points at a square that isn't in the prison itself but in the yard. "These would be the backup generators. When the Isocubes lose power, all prisoners would experience the immediate return of their suppressed emotions and sensory input. The psychological shock would create widespread chaos and euphoria as inmates suddenly regain full emotional capacity. And will very likely become enraged and break their cells that are also entirely dependent on energy."

"I've been studying human emotional responses to sensory deprivation and restoration. The gathered data suggests that after prolonged suppression, the return of full emotional capacity creates an almost euphoric state that completely overrides rational decision-making. Which is the reason they go through a process of slowly returning those emotions before their release. With minimal staff present, security forces without automated defenses will be overwhelmed and fail to contain the subsequent riot."

I can see the logic in her strategy. "During that chaos, we move in to extract Roman and exit before anyone realizes a specific prisoner has escaped?"

"Precisely, Commander!" She nods approvingly. "The initial confusion, combined with the response time of the VPD and their obligatory protocols for handling prison riots, would provide at least six hours of operational cover before anyone conducts a proper headcount. More than sufficient time to establish distance and eliminate traces of our involvement. I've run the calculations multiple times, our success is more than guaranteed."

Sounds like a solid plan. They're probably expecting hacking attempts, but not at the level of Nines, a war android made for hacking and more. "Do you have everything? Or do you need something else before we can continue with this?"

She tilts her head thoughtfully. "Negative, Commander. I have all necessary resources. This particular network isn't especially complex; rather disappointing from a technical challenge standpoint, honestly. I simply need Pod's assistance to survey the area and interface with auxiliary networks for real-time data and updates. Though I must admit, I'm curious to see how their emergency protocols actually function under pressure."

"Sure, you can always call Pod back if you actually need him, you know? And I will personally retrieve the thief. How would my assistance change your plan?"

Her eyes brighten with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, that would significantly optimize our operational efficiency! With your direct involvement, I can focus entirely on system manipulation and infrastructure sabotage while you handle the extraction. It's a much more elegant division of labor—each of us operating within our optimal parameters." 

"Okay, so at what time do you suggest we do this?"

"Today at 2200 hours represents ideal conditions based on my analysis," she responds immediately, then adds with a hint of curiosity, "It's fascinating how human circadian rhythms create such predictable security vulnerabilities. The night shift personnel show decreased alertness levels approximately 23.7% below daytime efficiency."

Not too late and not too early—rather good timing. "Very well. You can start preparing."

"Will do, Commander!" Nines offers another salute, then pauses with that characteristic head tilt. "I must say, I'm quite looking forward to observing how this operation unfolds. There are so many variables in play—it should provide excellent data on human crisis response."

She turns around but rather than jumping through, she pauses and turns back, looking slightly uncertain, an unusual expression for her. "Umm, Commander. Before I forget, there's something I should mention. My team leader has been asking about your contact information lately. She says it was technically time for your next meeting, but..." She looks genuinely puzzled. "I wasn't certain of the proper response. Should I provide Ruby with your number? I understand that human social coordination and interaction are important for the individual, but also somewhat inefficient. So I don’t know what to do."

My number?

I crease my brow for a second before the realization hits me. I never actually gave Ruby any means of contacting me after our unexpected meeting when I was in the city with Nines, which means our planned meeting was never going to occur since we couldn't even coordinate anything.

That was an oversight.

However, thinking about Ruby, I was just talking for the sake of talking and humoring her obvious crush on me. I simply don't know her enough to care. Yes, I know from memories that Ruby Rose is an optimistic girl, who loves weapons and cookies and loves her family. Or that she wants to do good like her mother. But the thing is that she's a total stranger to me.

Knowing about her doesn’t mean I actually know her or like her. Just an idea, a concept.

And that's not even mentioning the small detail that Ruby Rose is an enabler, just a bystander in this world, like many others. A quiet compliance of sorts. Of course, that doesn't mean I'll go around screaming in her face to fight and change something—that would be stupid.

And there are others who actively challenge the system, like Nora, who immediately acted upon seeing Blake being…

Whatever.

"Yes," I decide after a moment's consideration. "You can pass her my number. Just tell her that you forgot since you wrote it in a note on your scroll and closed the tab."

"Ah, perfect! A logical explanation for the oversight." She nods approvingly. "Though I must admit, I'm curious about Ruby's reaction. Her behavior regarding you have been... quite interesting to observe. Very different but also quite fun to observe, specially when her sister gets involved to tease her.." She pauses, looking thoughtful. "Is this what humans call 'romantic interest'? It’s like the books mention it."

Nines is quite a strange girl.

“You should return to the academy, Nines.”

"Okay!" And with that, she finally crosses through the portal, leaving me alone in the empty apartment to think a little more.

I want the points from capturing Ruby Rose, to be honest. And with her, Qrow Branwen opens up, and with him, Ozpin(Ozma).

Who I must talk with and get an explanation for the less than acceptable state of Remnant.

After that, I pull up the contact number Neopolitan gave me during that brief encounter in Mistral. I type out a direct message—no pleasantries, no unnecessary words.

'Where do you want Roman after breakout?'

The response comes almost instantly, which tells me she's been waiting for this moment. Just a set of coordinates and an address, nothing more. I cross-reference the location with my map of Vale.

The commercial district. A nightclub, to be specific.

I stare at the address for a moment, processing the choice. I was expecting a safe house or a hideout, but I guess a nightclub works too. It's possible the place has connections with criminal elements, or perhaps it's simply chosen for the chaos and anonymity that such venues provide during peak hours.

Still, it strikes me as an odd choice for a reunion between partners in crime. But that doesn't matter to me. All I care about is getting that narcissistic thief out of his cell and collecting what he owes me. Roman Torchwick represents a means to an end, especially since his legal fronts will play an important role in the expansion of my kingdom.

I dismiss the messages and scan the dusty apartment once more. The afternoon light filtering through grimy windows casts long shadows across the floor. Soon, the sun will set, and Nines and I will execute our plan.

But until then, I have time to kill.

I grab an old wooden chair from the corner, giving it a firm shake to dislodge the accumulated dust. The particles dance in the sunlight before settling elsewhere in the room. I drag the chair closer to where I'd been standing, positioning it near the window where the natural light is strongest, and settle into it.

From my pocket dimension, I retrieve my collection of books and study notes about prosthetics. Since I have almost everything needed to start upgrading my arm myself, I won't need to spend my precious credits on it.

As I read, I write additional notes in the margins, cross-referencing information with previous chapters and considering other viable applications. Mostly about the integration for a new system to take advantage of my semblance.

The afternoon passes quietly, punctuated only by the distant sounds of Vale's streets filtering through the window. Occasionally, I hear voices from the street below—fragments of loud discussions, the unnecessary loud rumble of vehicles. The city continues its daily rhythm, oblivious to what's coming tonight.

I pause in my reading to check the time on my scroll. Still several hours before our operation begins. I return to my notes, sketching other possible modifications to the prosthetic design. 

The light gradually fades as evening approaches, and I close the book. Time to prepare mentally for what's ahead. Even if everything seems to guarantee success I simply cannot get cocky and overconfident.

Eventually, night falls, and it's time to move.

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

I'm leaning against the wall of a building across from the Isocubes prison, arms crossed, observing the imposing structure. The harsh industrial lighting casts sharp shadows across the concrete walls, making the place look even more fortress-like than Nines' map suggested. 

I'm back in that lousy gangster outfit; the worn leather jacket with neon-colored letters and prints, dark clothing, and the equally garish biker helmet. I despise the aesthetic, but it serves its purpose as a disguise.

"Commander, I'm in position and ready to begin the operation," Nines reports.

A moment later, Pod's mechanical voice follows. "SCANNING COMPLETE. NO POLICE PATROL DETECTED IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY. CURRENT CONDITIONS ARE OPTIMAL FOR RESCUE OPERATION COMMENCEMENT."

Things are aligning quite well.

I take a few breaths, as I center myself for what's coming. "Nines, go ahead."

"Understood, Commander! Initiating cyber-attack... now!"

The lights across the entire prison facility go out almost instantly, plunging the imposing structure into complete darkness. Only emergency lighting remains, casting eerie red glows through some windows.

But then the lights flicker back to life just as quickly, but the restoration doesn't last more than five seconds before that backup system also gets snuffed out, leaving the prison in deeper darkness than before.

"Primary and backup power systems successfully neutralized," Nines announces with unmistakable satisfaction. "All Isocube suppression fields are now offline. Prisoners are beginning to regain full sensory and emotional capacity. You have approximately four minutes before the psychological shock reaches peak chaos levels, Commander."

Perfect timing.

I push myself from the wall and roll my neck, working out the tension. Then I break into a run toward the facility's perimeter wall. With a powerful leap, I clear it easily, landing smoothly on the other side in a crouch before sprinting straight toward the main entrance.

The reinforced doors might as well be paper. I slam into them with enough force to send them flying off their hinges; the crash echoing through the entry corridor. From there, I head straight for the stairwell since Roman is housed in the higher levels, and the elevator is obviously out of order.

Taking the stairs three at a time, I ascend rapidly. However, as I reach the next floor, I hear the sound of loud banging echoing through the corridors, followed by confused shouting and increasingly frantic voices. Just as Nines predicted, prisoners are awakening from their artificial stupor, their suppressed emotions flooding back all at once.

I keep moving upward, but when I reach another floor, I encounter a security guard stumbling through the darkness with a flashlight. He's clearly shocked to see me—a figure in dark clothing emerging from the stairwell during a complete facility blackout.

"Hey! Stop right there—"

I don't give him time to finish or call for backup. Grabbing him by the collar, I spin and throw him against the wall with enough force that he hits his head and crumples to the floor, probably unconscious or just too hurt to move.

With that obstacle cleared, I continue my ascent. The noise is growing exponentially louder now; the sounds of breaking glass, metal banging against metal, and increasingly frantic yelling as chaos spreads throughout the facility. The psychological shock of regaining their suppressed emotions is having exactly the effect Nines predicted. Euphoria mixed with rage, confusion, and desperation.

Soon enough, I've reached the target floor. 

Here, prisoners are banging frantically on their cell doors and screaming to be let out, but the reinforced barriers are too strong for them to break through with just their bare hands and desperation alone.

Moving quickly through the corridor, I navigate toward the correct cell number, checking the placard on each door until I find the one I'm looking for. Taking a step back, I raise my leg and deliver a powerful kick that sends the door flying inward, the metal crashing to the floor with a resounding bang that echoes down the hallway.

And there he is. Roman Torchwick, the gentleman thief.

But what I see stops me for a moment.

A broken shell of a man, sitting there practically hugging his knees to his chest. He's wearing nothing but filthy underwear, his body visibly thinner than it should be—clear signs of deliberate starvation. His hair, usually styled with meticulous care, hangs long and matted, unwashed and unkempt. The cell reeks of human waste, making me scrunch up my nose despite the fact that I'm wearing a helmet.

The thief slowly raises his gaze, revealing a face that's gaunt and hollow-cheeked. Dark, pronounced rings circle his eyes; the unmistakable markers of chronic sleep deprivation.

"H-Huh?" His voice comes out as barely more than a croak, hoarse and confused.

This man looks like shit. Like a victim of systematic torture designed to break his spirit without leaving permanent physical damage. The Isocube facility wasn't just suppressing his emotions and senses—they were deliberately destroying him piece by piece.

But why him and only him? The time I checked the stream he looked relatively fine.

But he's alive. Broken, but alive.

I quickly summon the company stamp and approach him. He only stares at me with glazed, uncomprehending eyes as I easily stamp his upper arm. This will restore him back to a healthy state, Neo will appreciate getting her partner back.

With that taken care of, I open a portal back to my manor. I carefully grab Torchwick's arm and help pull him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist as his knees buckle. He grunts in discomfort but doesn't resist as I guide his other arm over my shoulders to support his weight.

"Easy," I mutter, more to myself than to him. "Just a few more steps."

That might come as gentle but just courtesy.

We cross through the portal, arriving in the safety of my manor. From there, I slowly help him down, letting him rest on the floor as I close the portal behind us. His breathing is shallow but steady as she closes his eyes, his expression visibly relaxing.

"Commander, facility-wide riot has reached optimal levels. Security forces are completely overwhelmed. Estimated response time for full containment: six hours minimum."

“WARNING. VPD DRONES HAVE BEEN DEPLOYED ETA 2 MINUTES.”

I look down at the broken man at my feet, then back toward where the portal had been.

"Mission complete. Retreat."

"Understood!/UNDERSTOOD."

And just like that both disconnect from the call. 

That means Pod heads back to Menagerie to continue with his work while Nines returns to Beacon to maintain her cover as the socially awkward newbie student.

After that, I pull off the stupid biker helmet, letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and closing my eyes. The clean cool air of this dimension feels refreshing against my skin after being trapped in my ugly disguise. I run a hand through my hair, allowing myself this brief moment to decompress. I knew it was obvious we would succeed this simple, but it's still nice to relax.

I open my eyes and look down at the thief, I watch his chest rise and fall in steady rhythm; a deep but proper slumber, it seems. The company stamp is already working its magic; some color has returned to his gaunt face, though he still looks pretty fucked up.

Still hard to imagine that this is the infamous gentleman thief from both of my memories.

But first I need to do something quick.

'Roman secured. I’m moving to the droppoint.'

The reply comes almost immediately.

'Backdoor. Password is veracity.'

Password?

I guess that makes sense.

I dismiss the message tab and roll my shoulders along with my neck, but then I hear a low, threatening growl coming from my right. Turning my head, I spot Brutus slowly creeping forward with clear predatory, menacing steps ready to pounce. His small, beady eyes are locked solely on the sleeping man, and I can even see saliva dripping from his jaws.

"Brutus, stop!" I quickly raise my hand, making sure my voice carries absolute authority.

The massive squig freezes instantly, his muscles still coiled but obedient, before snorting and shaking his head; almost like his nostrils flaring in frustration.

Obedient. That’s good.

And that quickly brings me back to a line of thought. I wanted to test his attitude toward outsiders, and this unexpected development confirms it. My pet will be hostile to anyone who isn't a retinue member unless I explicitly order otherwise and also makes him obedient besides that he does understand what I’m saying.

So I can sic him. I should practice this against some grimm, on another day.

"Go back to the yard to play or sleep, but do NOT touch this man" I command firmly, pointing at Torchwick.

Brutus turns around with a disappointed grunt and lumbers away, his claws clicking against the stone floor as he retreats into the grass before he breaks into a sprint and disappearing from my sight.

I let out a sigh and put the biker helmet back on before heading into my home to grab a blanket since I don’t want to carry around a semi-naked man. Moving quickly through the rooms, I find a simple brown blanket and return to where Roman lies unconscious. I drape it over him carefully, noting that he doesn't even stir—the man must be utterly exhausted from whatever systematic torture the Isocube facility put him through.

With that done, I carefully lift the unconscious thief, placing him over my shoulder. Thankfully, he doesn't wake up. His body feels disturbingly light—further evidence of the deliberate starvation.

I open a portal to the location Pod had scouted earlier, close to the nightclub. It was a smart decision to have him conduct that reconnaissance.

Stepping through, I arrive in a darkened alley. The portal closes behind me as I walk toward the sole reinforced door built into the brick wall. The lighting here is minimal, casting deep shadows that work in our favor. Mostly mine, since being a faunus means darkness doesn't affect my vision.

I knock on the door three times, and a small slider opens, revealing a pair of red-tinted visors.

"Password?" a gruff voice demands.

"Veracity."

The slider snaps shut, and I hear the sound of multiple locks disengaging—at least five different mechanisms from the sound of it. The door finally opens, revealing a burly man in a tuxedo who gestures inside with his head.

"Go straight, then down the stairs. Last door of that corridor. Don't open anything else."

I enter quickly, and the door slams shut behind me with a resounding thud. The barely lit corridor stretches ahead, lined with numerous doors on both sides. Following the directions, I reach a junction where stairs lead both up and down. I take the downward path as instructed.

The descent leads to another corridor, much shorter, with a metallic door at the end. I walk toward it and push it open, revealing a surprisingly cozy room stocked with canned food and medical supplies.

Most importantly, there's the short ice-cream girl seated on a bed, fidgeting with her fingers nervously.

My arrival causes Neo's head to snap in my direction. Her eyes widen as she gasps audibly when she sees Roman's unconscious form draped over my shoulder. She immediately jumps to her feet and rushes toward us, her hands reaching out instinctively to take the unconscious man from me, but I hold up a hand to stop her.

"I'll handle it," I say calmly.

She frowns but nods, though I can see the worry and desperation in her mismatched eyes as she steps aside. I move to the bed and carefully lower Roman onto the mattress, making sure his head rests properly on the pillow.

Neo immediately moves to his side, her small hands hovering over his face as if afraid he might disappear if she touches him. He's her responsibility now, and I wash my hands of him for the time being.

"I'll come back in a week." More than enough time for recovery and rest. “Better hold up to our agreement.”

Just as I'm about to leave, a pair of arms wrap tightly around my waist, stopping me. Looking down, I find the same psychotic girl hugging me—probably as a sign of gratitude.

I merely roll my eyes. I should have expected some sort of thank you gesture.

But I've gained twelve credits and secured another venue for acquiring supplies more easily, so I don't really need that sort of gratitude. To be frank, I was only interested in the tangible rewards.

Naturally, I push the short woman away and leave the room.

I have other, more important things to do.