Roman Torchwick strolled through the empty, war-torn streets, his cane tapping softly against the cracked pavement. The distant sound of footsteps echoed as a small squad of escorts guided a group of civilians toward safety. Torchwick smirked, adjusting his hat, and casually walked forward, whistling an upbeat tune. His crew moved silently along the rooftops, waiting for his signal.

As the squad neared a narrow intersection, Roman stepped out from the shadows, blocking their path. The escorts immediately raised their weapons, but Roman just grinned, twirling his cane. “Now, now, there’s no need for that. I’m just here for a little chat.” He scanned the group, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a few civilians at the back, trembling with fear.

“Looks like we’ve got some stragglers,” he said, his grin widening. “Weaklings always slow down the pack.” With a snap of his fingers, his crew descended, surrounding the group in an instant. Gunfire erupted, the weak ones falling without even a chance to run.

Roman approached the remaining civilians and the stunned escorts, his cane resting lazily on his shoulder. “Alright, the fun part’s over. Now, let’s see what we’ve got left.” He gestured for his crew to start sizing up the survivors, chuckling as the remaining civilians shrunk back in fear. He took off the valuables from the dead.

“Boss we have one..hunter.” a member said.

Roman’s smirk faltered as he turned to face the survivor, his cane tapping a slow, steady rhythm against the ground. “A hunter you say?” he mused. He approached them, examining them closely. “Interesting.” He watched them struggle with the binds restraining their wrists behind their back.