Save the world? Fuck that, I want to make money! (RWBY SI) ch 68

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Roman Torchwick took a step down on the marbled floor, smiling still as Cinder took a step back, shocked. Melodic Cudgel still raised, he motioned to his men to do their work. They followed but found themselves quickly surrounded. Security ran up, weapons drawn. 

"I would not do that if I were you!" Roman called out to them. "Well, not unless you want this whole museum to go sky high!" 

He reached out his palm to one of his men who nodded and pawed into their bags. Shocked gasps came out as a clear shimmering crystal with wires in his hand. He raised it up high into the air for all to see. "Well, I don't know about you all but I am mite confident that I will be a-okay if something goes off. How about them?" Roman asked, turning to the crowds slowly backing away to leave. But the doors had long since been shut. 

"What do you want?" Cinder hissed, raising a hand to shield the handmaidens behind her. 

"Oh, your stuff," Roman said matter-of-factly, gesturing to his men to start. They walked up, pawing off the displays on the daises. They replaced them with heavy set crystals, glittering ominously under the display lights. As they did so, Isabella despaired. Gritting her teeth, she tried to walk up but Ozpin held her back. 

"Let me go!" she hissed but the silver-haired man shook his head. 

"For your sake, stay here, Princess," he urged her. 

"You're a Huntsman! Why can't you do anything?" Isabella glared at him. But Ozpin turned to the crystals. 

"This is a confined space, Princess. Security and I can certainly intervene but I cannot guarantee that we will come out without casualties," Ozpin muttered. "It would be best to let them take what they want and flee outside where they can be intercepted without risk to the civilians here. Inside...it would be difficult." 

​Isabella bit her lip, turning away from Ozpin and back to the ruffians holding her mother hostage. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. There were way too many people clumped up together in the hall. One wrong move, one miscalculated act and their dust bombs could set off. 

"You will not get away with this," Cinder growled at Roman. "I will make sure you will pay, worm." 

"Oh please, preach it to the choir!" Roman laughed, his cane resting on his shoulder. He grinned. "It is so fine that you and your band are enjoying yourselves while you got poor and hungry people in the streets. Well, I thought that maybe we should go and join in your little parade! I am sure I got an invitation but it must have been lost in the mail." 

​He turned from Cinder and towards the crowd. Security walked up, shielding them. He took steps forward, walking up to them. They stood silently as Roman took his cane and pointed it to them. Still, he kept his suave smile on. "As for you people..." 

​The security guards tensed, their rifles still raised towards Roman but the ginger man looked unbothered. "Let this be a little reminder that you are not out of reach. Your marble and suits will not keep you safe from reality. No matter how much security you have or robot men you manufacture, you will never be safe from me." 

​"Boss, we got everything!" One of the men cried out. Roman winked at the crowd, offered a perfunctory bow, then walked off, whistling.

"Excellent! Let's get out of here!" Roman called out. His steps echoed as his men followed. 

"Now? Can't you take them?" Isabella whispered. 

"You are oddly violent, Princess." Ozpin remarked. 

"They're getting away!" she fervently whispered as the interlopers rushed into another room.

​"Oh!" Roman halted. He turned around and held out a detonator. He raised it up and with a smile, clicked. At one, loud ticking came from the devices. 

"You got ten minutes!" He called out with a raised voice before bolting. 

It was then in earnest, the screaming began.

The moved quickly through the halls. This was how Roman Torchwick did things. Quick, clean, and without fuss. Their boot-steps echoed in the halls, heavy-set from their laden cargo. First part of the plan was done, he rounded in his head. Now, to get away. Behind them, he could still hear the screaming of the crowds as they clambered to leave the building. With the chaos going around, this was a great moment to make for the roof and escape. 

​They found the stairs and rushed up quickly. "Come on, come on! We don't want to get caught up by uppity little brats or idiot huntsmen!" Roman said, sing-song. 

Thankfully, the way was clear as their pointman rushed through the final door and swung it open. The noon sun, the smell of a city, and the screaming of the crowds below registered in his senses. He glanced at his watch. "There!" He called out as a Bullhead hovered close. The VTOL flew high, hovering by the roof edge in the distance. 

"Come on, come on!" Roman called out. The longer they stayed, the likelier that the huntsmen could catch up. Thankfully, they were uninterrupted as they all boarded the bullhead one by one. With the last one in, Roman turned to the pilot. "Push it!" He ordered. Roman shook in place as the Bullhead turned an angle then, it sped off.

Leaving the Museum behind them. 

No cries of celebration left their lips. No cheer. Only relief. It did take a moment to process the fact that Vale and Vacuo's best and finest were robbed of its cultural treasures.

"Good work, all of you," Roman said, turning to them. "Take a breather when we get back. Triple bonuses for you all. Get laid, drink, I don't care. Just lay low until the heat dies down. I'd recommend taking a vacation in Mistral if I were you." 

​A job well done always warranted celebration. Even he did it from time to time. But with this job, Roman could only feel nothing but dread. Staring into that woman's eyes...

He fought back his fear. He can worry about his soul and the ramifications later. He was not paid to think, only do. And by the Brothers, there was so much more money to be made. First part of the plan was done, next was to go agitate the idealogues. 

"Sir?" the pilot called out. 

"What?" Roman barked, turning to the cockpit. 

"We're uh...we're getting something on the radar. It's moving fast." the pilot announced. 

"Who?" Roman blinked. They were long gone by now for Valean PD to intercept them. Everything was crafted to give them the perfect escape! he shook his head. "Nevermind that, floor it!" 

The pilot nodded, gloved hand reaching for the thrusters. The craft shook as the Bullhead's engines roared to full capacity. He held on tightly as the Bullhead sped up.

"It's speeding!" The pilot roared. "We're getting intercepted!" 

"Can you lose them?" Roman asked. 

"Do you see a way we can lose them?" the pilot snarked. Vale's inner city had no high buildings, no skyscrapers. It truly was a classical city free of the futuristic spires in Solitas. Well that save for the Valean Royal Palace with its towers. 

"Try the Palace. We have no choice." Roman ordered. 

"Do you want to get blown off the sky? We'd get shot down by the anti-air defenses!" the pilot yelled. Roman rolled his eyes as he hopped into the co-pilot's seat. Gloved hands wrapped on the joystick. 

"Then we're playing a game of chicken!" Roman declared. The pilot protested as Roman yanked control of the Bullhead and lurched the Bullhead towards the Royal Palace. The towers loomed. Even from this far out, Roman could see activity ahead as the Palace noticed their approach. Behind, his men screamed in terror as their bullhead was pushed to maximum capacity. Instruments bleeped as the phantom dot on their radar screamed as their interceptor drew closer and closer...

With a grin, Roman held the stick tightly then banked right into a half-roll, then pulled back the Bullhead's stick into a half-loop. Time seemed to slow, the screams of his men and pilot not registering to him, as their interceptor zoomed past them. Roman swore he could see a man-sized shape fly past with wings.  but it did matter as their bullhead disengaged and the sounds of anti-aircraft batteries opened up. He let out a breath as he returned the controls back to the pilot who dumbly flew on.

"Keep it going. I want distance between us and the inner city," Roman ordered. 

The pilot nodded. 

Roman turned back, going for the compartment area. "See, told you we'd make it!" He boasted. 

He was only met by pained low groaning. 

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A/N: Beatdown coming next chappie c: 

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