A single young man roamed the halls of Beacon Academy, his blonde hair swaying slightly with his step, as the people around him chatted about their day and what they would do when they got back to the dorms. For one Jaune Arc, though, his mind was preoccupied with disturbing visions of last night, a blur of neon lights, blood, and gunfire that refused to muddle into something clear.
There were impressions, flickers of sound and video that played back in his head a hundred times over. Somewhere, deep down, he knew what had happened last night even if the news of the Atlesian mobster's death wasn't plastered on every newspaper. Over his normal Beacon uniform, Jaune's beloved Letterman jacket sat wrapped around him, stainless from the night before.
"Did you hear? Apparently that Vale-Atlas alliance thing is supposed to come true!" he heard one student whisper.
"Really? Doesn't that mean a big hit for pretty much all the businesses here? Atlas has been wanting to get into our trade market for decades now." another one whispered back scandolously.
"That's nothing, I heard Weiss's dad is going ballistic about this whole thing. Weiss hasn't looked so ragged since I've seen her."
"Yeah, it sounds pretty bad to me."
"Hey Jaune!" a cheery voice called out from behind him.
Jaune forced himself around, face slightly rattled still, to see his friend Sun Wukong coming from behind him. The monkey faunus looked a little out of place with how loose his uniform was, but by this late in the year the teachers had grown tired of disciplining him for it. The fellow blonde brushed past the younger years around him to meet his friend halfway.
"So, I heard there's going to be a little bit of a rager at Nora and Ren's dorm room tonight. You in?" Sun asked, jabbing Jaune in the ribs with an elbow.
"I can't, I have... work to do." Jaune said just a little mechanically, mind still racing to catch up.
"Work? Pfft, come on man all the hottest babes are gonna be there! You know Ren's parents set him up with that awesome suite so we can have all the space to party dude!" Sun bawled, shaking his companion back and forth.
"I'm not looking for love Sun, and I really am probably going to be busy tonight." Jaune retorted, features slack. "Besides, you only want me there for a wingman don't you?"
Sun choked on his words. "Well I- ugh, I mean I guess...?"
Jaune face did not look impressed.
"Look man! This is my best chance to woo Blake and you're, like, the only dude who'll know me well enough there! Neptune is off visiting his parents and Sage and Scarlet are on a date tonight! Please, please, please do this for me?!" Sun bowed his head, hands locked in a praying position, as he pleaded with his friend.
Jaune sighed, worst-case scenario there would be an operator waiting for him at his apartment for blowing off a mission. Best-case scenario, this could turn out to be actually kind of fun. He thought about it for a moment, he had just successfully completed his fourth job in a row so maybe they'd cut him a little bit of slack for one night.
"Fine, fine. If it'll stop your pathetic blubbering." Jaune surrendered, Sun's once prostrated form shooting up to hug his friend excitedly.
"Yes, yes, yes! I promise I'll make it up to you bro-seph. Hey, I'll be your wingman for wooing Ms. Pyrrha Nikos." Sun wiggled an eyebrow seductively causing Jaune to groan in defiance.
"Dammit Sun, you know that I'm not after her."
"Oh, I know old friend. But, I also know, and so does everyone else, that that girl is super duper into you! It'd be a crime against humanity if you let that whole thing slide without at least tapping that Nikos booty once." Sun raised his hand for a fist bump, Jaune left him hanging. "Whatever, be a stick in the mud but I assure you by the end of tonight you will be thanking me."
Maybe the operator at his apartment was the best-case scenario...
0-0-0-0
Beacon Academy, being an illustrious boarding school, allowed for students to stay in the school's dorms for most of their time enrolled. However, if you were rich enough (Pyrrha, Weiss, Ren, Coco, etc) you could buy yourself a suite and share it with up to 5 people at a time. Or, you could opt to live outside of the campus grounds and simple rent your own apartment (Jaune, Cardin, Fox, Neptune, etc).
Well, Ren's apartment was ritzy in the way only a Mistrali apartment could be. Decorations of classical Mistrali artwork and architecture filled the high ceilings and walls, the rooms and facilities made to parallel what was no doubt familiar scenery to the young Mistral royalty. Lie Ren, and by extension his "retainer" Nora Valkyrie, were living it up on Beacon's campus grounds and everyone knew it.
Jaune had always respected Ren, that calm and cool demeanor in the face of his monumental responsibility. A lot of people wanted to get in good with Mistral's newest in line for governor of Kuroyuri, but Ren never let his influence go to his head. If anything, Jaune was assured the young man would make a fine leader one day.
"Ok dude, when I go into action I need you to be my hype man, ok?" Sun asked, adjusting his nice shirt once more. "How do I look? Do you think I used to much cologne?"
"Mhmm." Jaune hummed noncommittally.
"Dude! Get your head in the game! How. Do. I. Look?" Sun asked, pulling his friend's head into his face.
"Wha-? Fine, dude relax." Jaune said, shaking himself free. "Look, I'll go test the waters for you."
Jaune walked off, looking rather out of place in his casual attire among the more influential and sparkling people around him. A simple pair of jeans, a turquoise t-shirt, red converse, and, of course, his iconic Letterman jacket decorated the young man who weaved around people in fancy dress shirts and polos. Finally, he saw her, Blake Belladonna of the Belladonna family. The Belladonnas were infamous for once spearheading a faunus rights movement and are now in control of the largest faunus-populated city in the world.
Looking behind him, Jaune saw Sun give him an encouraging nod as the faunus hid behind a potted plant. Jaune took a deep breath and sighed before waltzing over to the girl who eyed him curiously as he approached.
"Hi, you must be Blake Belladonna." Jaune said a little stiffly, now that he thought of it what was he supposed to say?
"Yeah, and you must be Jaune Arc, right? Pyrrha told me quite a lot about you." ah, that was right. The rich of the rich at Beacon were basically like one big family, or perhaps like a hive mind of some sorts.
"Did she? Well, I don't suppose you've ever heard of guy named Sun?" Jaune shifted his coat. "Because I think he'd like to talk to you."
"He would? Well, why is that?" Blake asked, quietly probing for more information.
"Well, between you and me he might have a teeny, tiny, itty, bitty, massive crush on you." Jaune joked, earning a small huff from her. "Truth be told, I've known the guy for the better half of 5 years and let me tell you, the guy isn't the worst."
"Wow, what a stunning endorsement." Blake smiled slightly.
"I know right? What else could you want in a guy?" Jaune asked. "Anyways, if you could do me a major solid and just go talk to him, I would owe you. The guy has been pestering me non stop about wanting to meet you, I think he even spent several hours trying to put on the best cologne for you."
"Hmm, well he's certainly driven." Blake chuckled. "Oh fine, if it'll get him out from behind that plant I'll humor him."
They both said their goodbyes, Jaune milling around the room rather awkwardly as people came in and out of the lavish venue. Jaune idly chattered with some of the people he sort of knew, realistically Sun and Neptune were the two people he knew the best.
He had always had issues fitting in, in his younger years he was slightly neurotic and caused a lot of people to avoid him. By the time he entered Beacon, his neurosis had developed into a serious derealization disorder. Things around him felt detached, unreal as if he were simply in a dream and nothing around him was actually happening.
Then, the phone calls started coming in.
"-Jaune!" a light voice shook him away from his idling. Pyrrha Nikos, who had a not-so-secret crush on him, looked at him worriedly, one hand on his shoulder. "Are you ok? You started really spacing out there for moment."
"Y-Yeah, I was just... thinking." Jaune shook his head. "Sorry."
Pyrrha chuckled, having changed out of her uniform and into a nice red blouse and skirt. "It's fine, in fact I was wondering if you wanted to come see a movie with me this weekend. I was thinking that new Spruce Willis one."
"I, ugh, I'm not sure-"
"He means he's not sure what he would wear!" Sun Wukong, professional bastard and terrible person, crowed as he sidled up next to him. "He would love to go, right Jaune?"
"Well, I mean-"
"Wonderful!" Sun clapped a hand on his friend's chest. "I'll help you make plans bro."
Jaune was about to argue more but stopped when he was the beaming look on Pyrrha's face. Sighing and thinking that it could be just a one-off thing, Jaune nodded and the date was set. After that, however, Jaune excused himself and went home, complaining of a headache and driving his DeLorean back to his shabby apartment where pizza boxes were stacked high next to his video game system.
Luckily, no one was waiting inside with a gun but there was the familiar red blinking light on his answering machine. Jaune reached for it but hesitated at the last minute, briefly considering to not pick up the call and perhaps he could just be done with it. However, Jaune knew that if he didn't listen to this message and do the job he'd wind up in a shallow grave by sunup.
Jaune clicked the machine and there was a loud beep before the message played.
"Hey there, we got a real mess over by the condos. We need you to clean it up, there's wet floors everywhere. Please, be quick about it too we have new tenants moving in soon. It's on 104th Street, go there now."
Another beep to indicate the end of the machine, Jaune knelt down over a small box hidden in the absolute back of his locked closet. Opening the box revealed a simple chicken mask, one you might get at a party store, but to him this was his persona, his alias. Slipping it over his head, Jacket breathed deeply into the mask and, like always, contemplated his life choices. And, like always, he knew he had no choice.
This was his life, for as long as he could clearly remember his choices had always been dictated by these mysterious phone calls. One day they started coming in and they have never stopped since. Of course, like all his memories, there were faint blurs of static noise that attempted to blend together into something comprehensible, a bar, some drinks, a man, and a piece of paper. But, other than that, there was nothing.
Picking up his nifty voice recorder, Jaune clambered down the steps as quietly as possible to avoid attracting attention before hopping in his car and driving to 104th street...
0-0-0-0
The building certainly looked innocuous, he would give them that. Then again, it was innocuous in the sense that every other building looked just as drab and worn down as the red brick monstrosity he was staring into. Even so, he could hear the gaggle of scummy mobsters on the other side of the door, the lit interior giving it away as his target no doubt.
In his hand, Jacket held a baseball bat, his old Louisville slugger, and at his side was his faithful tape recorder. Breathing deeply, Jacket slowly felt that same sense of unreality overcome him, colors mashing together and the world around him devolving into a neon blur. He barely registered kicking in the door, or even how the force of it sent the unfortunate mobster in front of him flying into a table.
The others were slow, too slow to catch someone like him and by the time one of them had drawn a gun Jacket had easily clobbered two of his pals leaving a bloody streak across his mask. Jacket smacked the hand holding the gun into the air, a single shot ringing upwards and into the ceiling as the white jacketed criminal received a headache courtesy of his bat.
Overhead, the masked maniac could hear the shuffling and thumping of boots as the men above prepared themselves. Jacket picked up the pistol and hurried up the stairs, gunning down two unprepared mobsters along the way, the killer smashed the frail door off its hinges and sent the piece of wood rocketing into the face of an unfortunate man who had been guarding it.
Jacket rolled deftly underneath a hail of gunfire and matched it with a pair of precise shots that crumpled another one of the Atlesians. The remaining men in the room had begun to take cover, but not before another had fallen victim to a stray bullet. Fortunately for them, Jacket had run out of bullets, but unfortunately the chicken-masked man still held his trusty bat.
The poor criminal, with his fresh buzz cut hairdo, didn't even register what had happened as Jacket threw himself over the table he was hiding behind and crunched the man's head with a brutal swing. Whirling around, Jacket whipped the hunk of wood like a frisbee towards the criminal who had attempted to take him by surprise, and, as the trusty club crashed into the man's nose, Jacket had picked up the pistol and gunned down the currently injured man's comrade.
The mobster lay on ground, groaning in agony as his nose resembled a gnarled parody of a potato. Jacket, saying nothing, idly stalked over and mounted the man's chest with a familiar ease. Whatever the man beneath him was about to choke out was cut off as a fist wrapped into tape crashed into his head with all the force of a sledgehammer. After that, it had only taken two or three more hits before his head resembled something more akin to a crushed watermelon.
The world around Jacket surged with white noise and a neon whirlwind of colors and patterns, his mind starting to grow detached from himself. Picking the bloodied bat up, the hunk of wood warped in shape becoming large, larger than himself, no even larger than the room! The floor tilted beneath the masked killer's feet, thrown off kilter by some giant's idle pushing and with it Jacket could feel his body fall.
Round and round he tumbled through everything, a mess of colors like a drunken kaleidoscope. All the while, the unfortunate man in the jacket saw himself being drawn deeper inward to a bright world of strange feelings and sensations. Clips of conversation, idle audio and chatter, mixed with gross charicatures of people he knew and places he had been. Events play out in a sea of sickening greens and blues, and with each passing second he felt himself grow more and more distant-
His body reacted on its own, years of honed reflexes saving his life. The bullet whizzed harmlessly past, grazing his shoulder, while the suited assailant found a wrapped fist rocketing into his stomach. Jacket heard the man cough some expletive, but the man in the chicken mask could hardly be bothered to listen to him, instead he was drawn to the man's suit. Black, not white like the others which must mean he was different right? Like a video game, you know?
"Y-You fucking-" the man coughed up some spit. "Fucking animal-masked freaks! Fucking up my business, getting my ass in hot water who the fuck you think you are?!"
Jacket pulled out his tape recorder, dozens of lines recorded using a text-to-speech program. There was the mixed warbling as the tape rewound to the exact snippet he was looking for before he hit play.
Who are you? a polite, if rather emotionless, feminine voice asked over the tape.
"Me? Why the fuck do you wanna know? Fucking up my business and asking me questions..." the man grumbled, or more or less groaned, to himself.
Who are you? the question was repeated, Jacket tapping his bloodied bat onto the suited man's knee.
The mobster seemed to get the gist. "I-I'm Vincenzo Martelli you fucking freak! I run this fucking joint, who the fuck are you!?"
Irrelevant
"Irrelevant? What the fuck does that mean?" the man growled.
What are you doing here?
"Fucking your mother."
The bat came down on the man's ankle, a sickening crunch resounded through the once furnished room. The Atlesian gangster howled expletives and threats at the stoic mask, threatening all sorts of nasty things.
What are you doing here?
"I-I'm supposed t-to be running protection for these guys." the man breathed, watching the bat ominously. "The boss says they're important. Couple of guys in suits, said they were up from Atlas."
Elaborate.
"I-I don't know." the bat came of up again. "Jesus fucking christ man I swear! I fucking swear on my mother that I don't know anything!"
Thank you for you time.
The bat came down again, hard and fast as it caved the mobster's skull in. Jacket stumbled through the shattered door, the twilight giving him a cloak to hide from anyone watching him. He hopped into the car and sped out of the scene of the crime, the din of police sirens starting to fill the night air from far away...
0-0-0-0
Jaune stumbled through his apartment's door, taking extra caution to hide himself from view due to the numerous blood stains on his jacket. Slamming the damn thing the young man made it halfway across the floor before he felt it coming on, unable to help himself the blonde students hurled all over the shabby tile floor. Doubled over and gagging, looking into a puddle of wine coolers and pizza chunks, Jaune felt another blur of noise surround him.
Another episode, and he wouldn't be able to take it this time. Jaune stumbled into his bathroom and wrenched open the cabinet, snagging a bottle of pills he down three or four before hiding away his bloodied clothes and falling upon his bed. His room distorting into a nightmarish wonderland as sleep mercifully took hold...
...
Tell me, do you recognize me? a familiar man in a chicken mask asked, reclining in his chair. I believe we have met before, young man.
"Hmm, it seems like he might be remembering something." a dainty young woman in a horse mask commented. "And yet, that look in his eyes. He may be worse off than we initially thought..."
I don't know you, a suited man in an owl's mask growled. You're... not a nice person, are you?
"Acknowleding one's self, means acknowledging one's actions. And, as of late, you've done some terrible things..."
You don't remember me? I'll give you a clue, does April the third mean anything to you? That was the day we first met. You look like you might be remembering something...
0-0-0-0
"Breaking news!" the anchor said, standing outside a familiar building. "It appears that this house located on 104th street was just subject to a vicious attack by what police believe to be the same individual or individuals who have been targeting Atlesian mobsters. Reports say that there were screaming and gunshots at this location not 4 hours ago when police received the first call."
The woman walked over to a grubby woman who sat smoking a cigarette. The anchor held the microphone over to the other woman before asking her question.
"Ma'am, you claim that you saw the assailant leaving the scene of the crime. Can you describe them please?" the purple haired news anchor asked.
The woman took another long drag before answering. "Well, I come out of my house, hearing all these damn gunshots, to see some fucking six foot motherfucking monster leaving in a sports car."
"Monster? Can you please elaborate?"
"I mean, it looked like a human but its head was all misshapen. Lumpy and protruding at these weird angles, it was dark out you see and my vision's not the best but I knew there was something wrong with that dude."
"And you said he was leaving in a sport's car?"
"Yeah, I saw him leaving in that damn thing but, like I said, I couldn't see worth a damn so I don't know what type it was."
"Well, thank you for your time ma'am." the anchor turned back to the camera. "There you have it folks, the investigation is still underway for whomever has been committing these atrocious crimes. The chief of police of Vale is issuing a statement on Monday, and you are encouraged to call 1-800-867-5309 if you know anything about these murders. Back to you Cyril..."