Jaune Arc was never exactly the best of men.
He liked to think he wasn't a bad guy, though. He'd lived his life decently and honestly: there wasn't a crime to his name, he was beloved by his family no matter how much he disappointed them, and he at the very least had 100% attendance to his school - even if his grades weren't… the best.
But he'd always felt like a disappointment. Every time he'd looked to his mantelpiece and seen Crocea Mors sitting there, he'd been reminded of everything his ancestors had done and, somewhere along the road, he started feeling like he had to live up to that legacy. So every time he failed to do anything - be it fight, pass an exam or confess to a girl - he couldn't help but think that, were his ancestors in his shoes, they'd be doing thousands of times better.
And he idly wondered if that was why he was going to die here.
He'd gone out into the fields for some late night training on his own - refusing help from his sisters, as per usual - and swung a practice sword around in his hands for a bit. Pretty simple stuff. It would probably help his stance, strength and stamina (it was as simple as swinging the sword like you meant it, right?) and it would definitely allow him some much-needed alone time, so all in all, it was worth doing.
Well, it wouldn't have been if he'd known he'd be struck by a freaking meteor.
Just as he was walking home, it had come out of the sky. He barely had a second to react before boom: a blazing ball of fire and brimstone slammed into him with enough force to leave a crater the size of multiple houses directly in the middle of the empty farmland.
From the panicked screams in the distance he was able to catch - just barely - with his rapidly fading hearing, his family at the very least were still alive.
That was a good thing.
Jaune wondered, looking up to the sky mournfully, if there were something greater he could have been. If he hadn't been consigned to a life of mediocrity right from the get go.
He felt his conscience fade, and he let out what would be one last haggard, tired breath.
It was time for Jaune Arc to call it quits.
…
… Or… Not?
His eyes snapped open with renewed vigor, and he glanced down at his chest where he could just barely register… something resting on his chest.
That something twitched, and Jaune realised that it was a hand. A gnarled, disfigured one, but a hand nonetheless.
His eyes traced the hand to the attached arm, then he followed the arm to a crooked, shattered shoulder, then found a neck and traced that right up into what was probably once a face. He could just barely make out a crushed, misshapen hole where he was pretty sure a nose would go, and a series of small shattered stumps that were likely teeth at some point.
But, he hardly noticed either of these things as he was utterly transfixed with its eyes. Despite the state of the rest of its face, they were perfectly intact, glowing with what looked like blue fire - intense, piercing… terrifying.
"Boy."
He opened his mouth to yelp in fear but no noise came out.
"You are dying, no?"
He was able to move his shattered neck just enough to nod.
"I see. It seems we are trapped in a similar predicament…"
His eyes widened as the thing inched closer to him. Even through his mounting panic, he couldn't help but idly wonder how the hell it was still able to move despite its condition.
"Just this once, I'll make a compromise."
Its crooked, malformed hand began to draw nearer and nearer. He was too weak to run. Too weak to do anything as its fingers made contact with his face. Too weak to do anything as everything around him went white.
-‾-_-
Jaune shot up from his bed in a cold sweat, the alarm clock blaring to the side of him.
It seemed the thought of that whole ordeal still creeped him out, five years onward. It wasn't the kind of thing you could just wipe from your head. He turned the alarm off, before pulling himself out from underneath the duvet and heading to the bathroom to wash his face.
He took a look at himself in the mirror. He'd gotten older since then, and it showed - he was taller, every single nook and cranny of his body more well defined, and if you squinted hard enough you could just about make out facial hair finally beginning to emerge from his chin - although, you'd have to squint pretty hard.
But, most of all, he was alive and well. Jaune Arc had been struck by a meteor and, through whatever strange twist of fate, had lived. He sighed, and shook his head. Thinking about it didn't achieve much. He could wonder his entire life what that creature was, and it wouldn't do him any good - straining to figure it out would only bring migraines and disappointment.
He looked at the clock. It read 3:45 AM.
Good. He had time before he would have to get to work. He couldn't mess up, after all - it was his first day on the job.
He pulled off his extremely snug onesie, before rummaging around in his closet for a moment. Hoodie? Check. Jeans? Check. Gauntlets? Check. Hastily pulling them on, he then reached into a small crack in the floorboards in front, and pulled it clear of the floor - revealing the last two parts of his uniform.
His mask and cape. No self-respecting protector of the people could do without those, right?
Another cursory glance to the clock revealed it was now 4:00 AM. He'd uh… Taken a little longer than expected to take that onesie off, it seemed.
It looked like he'd just have to skip breakfast. Ah, well - he could get Alfred to cook him something later, maybe.
With that thought, he promptly dove out of the fourth floor window, his cape fluttering in the wind behind him as the pavement grew closer and closer.
Come on, Jaune, he thought, it's just like you practiced.
He spread his arms, and exhaled.
And felt the air rush past him as he began to ascend higher and higher into the starlit sky.
The streets of Vale became smaller and smaller beneath him as he rose, until the street lamps that normally towered above him were like nothing more than unusually small ants. From here, he could see… nothing. Picking out anybody committing any sort of crime at this distance was, well, kind of impossible.
He grinned to himself and snickered. It wasn't really like he'd be needing sight for this, after all. He calmed his mind, and closed his eyes. All he needed for this job was his ears.
Sounds of every variety entered his mind - mostly just cars ploughing their way across the varied streets of Vale, with the backdrop of laughing friends, bored people at night shifts sighing, and… moaning.
He slapped his cheeks as they grew red. He was supposed to be a hero, dammit, not a voyeur!
But thus far, no law breaking.
Even though that was probably supposed to be a good thing, he couldn't help but huff and cross his arms in disappointment. He had kind of wanted a really action packed first day, not… Whatever this was.
He collected himself once again, and reached out further with his senses. Just more of the same stuff -
Wait.
His eyes snapped open, and fixed on the rough location he'd heard it. It was pretty indistinct, muffled from extreme distance (probably somewhere on the city's outskirts) but he'd just barely been able to make it out.
It had sounded like a cry of fear.
Exactly what he was after.
All sound was muted out by the roar of the air moving past him as he dove closer and closer to his location; when cars began to look less like insects and more like… well, cars, he stopped, and took another look around the area from the air.
It was a derelict industrial district, a maze of alleyways that blocked off his line of sight no matter where he looked.
Dammit, he was losing time.
He flew across the area, looking directly downward for any signs of activity. Nothing. The alleys were as dead and barren as they always were this far out from the main city. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Where the hell had that sound come from? Had he just imagined it?
He closed his eyes once again, trying to listen for any further signs of activity.
Nothing?
No, wait.
It was extremely quiet even, despite how close he'd gotten, but he could just about catch the sound of clothes being rustled around. His eyes widened. It was coming from one of the warehouses.
He pushed off of the air at top speed. The unthinkable could have been happening right then and there - he didn't have a moment to spare. The buildings turned into an indistinct blur as he drew closer and closer to his maximum speed. As his target locale drew nearer, it occurred to him that he probably no longer had the distance to slow down properly.
Whatever. He'd taken walls to the face before.
The side of the warehouse practically exploded as he blasted through, leaving nothing but dust and destruction in his wake.
As he entered, the sight he was met with confirmed that the worst truly may have come to pass. Standing at the opposite end of the building was a large, hatted man wearing a trenchcoat with his face obscured, a young Faunus woman cowering behind him - completely defenseless.
He clenched his fist in fury.
"Stop right there, villain!" he yelled, in the most imposing voice he could, "You thought your crimes would go undetected if you were to commit them far from the eye of civilisation?"
"Hey, what the hell -" the man murmured, but he was cut off by the fist impacting his face faster than the average human being could perceive, sending him flying across the building with a loud crack that likely would've been audible within a hundred metres.
People like this… They didn't deserve mercy.
"Well, no matter how dark the corner of society," Jaune murmured, his arm slowly dropping to his side, "There is no escape from justice."
He turned around to the woman shivering in the corner, before walking up to her and extending her his hand. He looked into her terrified eyes, and offered a reassuring smile.
"Are you alright, ma'am?"
"Th - th - tha…" she struggled to force out any words, pointing a quivering finger at him.
"There's no need to thank me, ma'am - just doing my -"
His line was interrupted by the woman shooting to her feet, raising her hand into the air, and smacking Jaune square across the face.
She was… mad at him?
But, surely he'd just saved her from -
"Tha - that was my boyfriend!"
Oh.
In retrospect, it probably should've been obvious. You couldn't just drag someone that far from civilisation without attracting any attention at all, not unless your victim wanted to go with you. And the sound of clothes rustling, the yelps…
He glanced between the fuming Faunus and the groaning, trenchcoat-clad man on the floor.
Then waved his arms around in the air frantically.
"I - I - I'm so sorry, ma'am, I just - I just -"
"You just what!?" the woman yelled at the top of her lungs, "You just get off to ruining couples' wild nights out!?"
"No, it's not like that at all -"
He was answered with another slap in the face. Sure they didn't actually hurt him; it would take a lot more than just that to cause his serious injury.
As for his pride…? Well, his ego was currently a lot more fragile than his body.
"What do you mean it's not like that!?"
Jaune took a step back, easily avoiding the additional slap directed at him.
"Caped kook! Perv! Freak!" she yelled, closing in for yet another devastating blow.
Her outstretched fingers collided with nothing but air - Jaune had long since flown back into the night sky, a very loud "Sorry!" lingering in the air behind him.
-‾-_-
Captain Remnant, Chapter One: The Hero No One Asked For.
-‾-_-
"You're back late, Arc."
It wasn't so much as statement as a promise; a promise of a lot of overtime work if he didn't work twice as hard to make up for the setback he'd just caused his employer and landlord; one Jaune knew from experience would be fulfilled.
The hand which had, hours ago, been punching through walls flew to the back of his neck to rub it nervously as he practically flew down the stairs wearing the store's signature apron.
"I'm really sorry, Alfred, it's just -"
The old man waved his hand dismissively as he went back to restocking the shelves of their small store.
"Look, kid, it's fine," he murmured. "You're only fifteen minutes late. Just make sure it doesn't get any worse next time."
"O-okay."
Well, any chance of conversation he had pretty much died there. And honestly? Jaune was fine with that.
He'd had an eventful (-ish) night; after the - uh - incident with that couple, he'd returned a lost dog to its owner, got a cat out of a drainpipe and managed to steer a very drunk man in a very large truck away from any other vehicular traffic. All in all, pretty good.
Although, there wouldn't exactly be poems lauding his achievements quite yet.
He sighed, taking his usual place at the counter and looking out at the streets of Vale. It was the start of a weekday, so people were for the most part heading to work or school or wherever. The bottom line was that people had places to be - and they sure as hell weren't miniature Dust stores perched inconveniently out of the way of everything else.
Business would probably pick up the pace closer to midday.
It was a matter of minutes before his fingers were beginning to tap impatiently on the surface in front of him.
"You're bored," Alfred grunted from across the store.
He wondered if he should politely deny it, before remembering who he was talking to. Lying would get him nowhere.
"Yeah."
The old man sighed, before moving to the counter with a small note in hand.
"Go to this address and pick up some Dust imports. We're running low, so we might as well stock up," Alfred murmured, somehow managing to sound tired despite the time of day.
The small yellow note read 26, Verdant Avenue. A location he hadn't been to before, but one he could definitely use his scroll to find.
Jaune nodded feverishly - however much this job meant to him, there was only so much he could do to protect himself from boredom. Manning the counter on a day as slow as this one was not helping.
He took a step outside of the store, waving goodbye to his employer.
"See you, Mr. Brown!"
"G'bye, kiddo! Oh, and -" Jaune stopped in his tracks, turning around, "This dust is fragile stuff - be careful with it. You know how you can get sometimes,"
Hint taken.
-‾-_-
Once you'd felt flight the way Jaune had, walking long distances felt weird. It was something of an effort to keep himself from jumping into the air and soaring to his destination every step of the way.
It would definitely have made the trip across the city much, much less boring if he'd done so - but, he wasn't going throw away his secret identity just to avoid a little boredom.
He hefted the enormous crate of Dust he'd gotten from their supplier back over his shoulder. The thing was a little uncomfortable to carry under the arm. Sure, seeing someone heft a crate half the size of themselves over one shoulder might have attracted a few glances from passers-by - but if he wasn't allowed to fly then he could at least afford to walk in comfort. With the sun just beginning to dip into the horizon, casting the city into a warm bath of orange light, the gentle hum of faraway traffic and people talking about their days, and the gigantic crate of what were pretty much just glorified explosives no longer digging into his ribs, this walk most certainly was a comforting one.
Oh, and the gunshots added to the atmosphere too.
His eyes widened, and he ground to a halt almost instantly.
He couldn't hear them anymore.
Had he just accidentally activated hs hearing without realising it?
He stopped, and clamped his eyes shut, trying to extend his senses further away. He hadn't been mistaken. The sound was relatively faint: he'd place its proximity at a few kilometres - he could hear the sound of steel meeting steel, guns firing, and glass shattering in the distance.
The unmistakable sound of battle.
He bit his lip, and then looked nervously to the box on his shoulder. Alfred had warned him about jostling it. If he ran to try and stop whatever was going on over there, he could risk damaging the goods beyond repair.
They could manage without him, right?
He extended his senses once again, and then flinched as a piercingly feminine screech stabbed into his ears.
Aw, dammit.
He walked on for a moment, before ducking into the nearest alleyway he caught sight of, disregarding the odd looks he got from the nearby pedestrians. It was dirty, smelled rancid and as a result no one would ever have any reason to be there.
Perfect.
He looked up, seeing a small ledge built into the brick of one of the buildings the alleyway was sandwiched between. It was a little over fifteen feet up, and it would be a tight fit, but...
He slowly floated up there, gently leaning the box on the wall and balancing it on the ledge.
As he flew off in the direction of the ruckus, he breathed a silent apology to Alfred and prayed that no one would be able to knock the box from that wall.
The multitude of sights and sounds of the city blurred into a single streak of indistinct lights against the blur of brick red and concrete grey as Jaune flew across Vale - the wind whipping in his hair.
He didn't have his cape and mask right now, so one of his hands was occupied with pulling his shirt up his face as he rose into the sky.
He quickly scanned across the city below him, looking for the source of what he'd just heard.
His eyes picked out the distinctive red flicker of a nightclub's logo far in the distance. The building was medium-sized, right on the outskirts of the city: it likely wouldn't be safe from crime no matter how burly its bouncer.
He dove downward, speeding toward his location faster than a… actually, he didn't really have any idea how fast he was moving. Pretty fast, he assumed, because he slammed into the concrete outside of the building with an ear-splitting crash about half a minute after he'd left his delivery behind.
The place looked like it had been hit by a bomb. Windows were missing and the neon sign, although it was putting up a valiant effort, was slowly beginning to flicker out, and from the repeated sound of gunshots on the inside, the fighting was definitely not over yet.
With a scream, a man was sent flying through one of the few remaining intact windows, landing splayed out across the concrete, groaning in pain.
Jaune's forehead creased: this was senseless violence at its absolute finest.
He was glad he'd chosen to come here.
He got up, and dusted his hoodie off, wrinkling his nose at the amount of dust that billowed out. He'd need to put this thing through the washing machine before he could do any hero-ing tonight.
Taking the downed man's suit, glasses and hat (he needed something to cover his face with, after all) he took a step into the bar.
"Stop right there!"
Three pairs of eyes among the smouldering wreckage of the club's interior, each somewhere between surprised and unimpressed, turned from each other to the new face in the room.
"Who's that, Melanie?" asked a green pair attached to a scowling girl in red.
"... No idea. Never seen 'em before, Miltia," replied another, with eyes just as green attached to a frowning girl in white.
"Didn't I get all of you guys with that punch to the floor earlier?" asked the last, a pair of glittering lilacs attached to a voluptuous, smirking blonde.
"Which one of you caused all the damage to this establishment?"
The blonde sighed, and began to walk towards him, dodging a high kick from the bladed heels of her white-clad adversary with contemptuous ease.
"Look, lemme just get this one," she muttered, mild irritation laced in her voice, "Then I'll get back to you."
The girl in white's green eyes narrowed in irritation before she backed off, promptly beginning to tap her foot against the floor impatiently.
"So," began Jaune, locking eyes with the girl sauntering up to him with a hand on her hip, "I assume it was you who attacked the staff here?"
She smiled lazily.
"That's right," she drawled, "And you're next, buster."
Her fist came at him with skull-crushing force, and, with the aid of the powerful shotgun blast that followed shortly after, it would've easily knocked any civilian, aura or not, out for the count instantly.
That was probably what the blonde was expecting, judging from her expression when the blow failed to so much as make Jaune flinch.
"I'll take that as a yes," Jaune replied, before responding with a blow of his own - one directed straight toward the girl's abdomen.
Jaune barely had the time to register her face widening in surprise - and then pain - before she was slammed directly into the opposite wall of the building.
The room promptly descended into complete silence.
"Holy -"
"- Fuck."
The two other women, who'd only just been looking at him like he was something they'd discovered on the underside of their glittering shoes, were now staring at him with an awe bordering on fear.
Yeah, he really wasn't good at that whole fear-assuaging thing yet, was he?
Jaune bit his lip nervously, trying to pull something to say out of the swirling vortex of awkwardness filling the space around them.
"Uuuh…" he murmured, "Have no fear, ladies! And, uh, I'm sorry about the damage dealt to your nightclub…?"
One of the pair, the girl in red, promptly began to start wiping her eyes.
Oh - oh crap, had he just made her cry!? That - that definitely wasn't supposed to happen. He was next to her in an instant, placing a single hand on her shoulder.
"I'm - I'm so sorry, ma'am - I can assure you, I didn't mean to scare you and -"
He was interrupted by the girl in red's extremely loud laughter.
"Sorry, hotshot, but I was actually wiping my eyes to see if this wasn't some sort of weird concussion-induced fever dream," she drawled, a mocking grin plastered on her face.
"Gotta admit, Mil," another, near identical voice cut in from behind him, "I empathise. When the hell did Junior hire this guy?"
Jaune chuckled nervously.
"Uh - I'm just your friendly neighbourhood hero - I, uh, don't actually work here."
The one in red raised an eyebrow.
Right before the other one blindsided him by draping an arm over his shoulder and beginning to trail a finger up his chest which was already enough to set off every single adolescent alarm in his body. When the girl in front of him joined in on the effort, he had to suppress his urge to scream.
Jaune gulped, tried, and failed, to quell the blood rushing to his cheeks.
"Is that so…?" she cooed, "Well, I'm sure we'd appreciate having a big, strong hero like you working at our -"
Whatever they were about to do was - not regrettably - cut short by a roar of primal fury from across the building, followed by a wave of heat that caused whatever windows were left in the building to blast outward with it.
Jaune slowly turned around as the flamboyantly dressed duo began to back away.
Staring at him from the mouth of a golden inferno was the blonde from before - the lilac in her eyes turned as red as blood.
Oh - and her fist -
Jaune promptly spun through the dusty air as an impact far greater than a speeding truck - he'd know - struck him directly on the face.
He quickly readjusted himself in midair to get his bearings, before digging his fingers into the glass floor to halt his momentum.
He'd skidded about ten metres or so when he finally managed to pick himself up from the ground, clutching his throbbing cheek.
That had... hurt.
Which meant that this girl was dangerous.
Jaune promptly dusted himself off, before getting back up to stare at his adversary. The two girls from before were nowhere to be seen - likely scared off by the impact from before.
Honestly, he was glad for it - the glasses he'd donned to hide his identity had been reduced to a crushed, twisted and very sharp mess from the punch he'd just taken.
He sighed, and narrowly avoided another punch that might just have been intended to take his head off, then was forced to cross his arms in front of him to block an incoming flurry of punches. His muscles protested as they were forced to take the brunt of some very painful impacts, but he grit his teeth and bore through it nonetheless.
She promptly went in for a left hook, likely intended to take out his guard, that left him just a tiny opening for attack.
Well, tiny was all he'd need.
He delivered a lightning-fast jab directly to the girl's opposite shoulder - wincing as he heard the bone pop out of its socket and the corresponding cry of pain - that sent her skidding across the disco's floor, only to watch as she got right back up, and wince again as she shoved her shoulder directly back into place with her bare hands.
When she came at him again, she came at him with even more force.
It seemed that his opponent wouldn't being going down to mere punches.
Well, luckily for him that punches weren't all he had to offer.
"I must admit," he said, in what he figured was his most imposing voice, "I'm impressed at your talents - but, you choose to waste them destroying private property, something which I cannot accept!"
He began to rise up into the air - he'd need space to get this one working properly.
Slowly, he began to feel it - a tingling sensation in his eyes, right behind his retina, one that slowly grew to a burning sensation flaring throughout the entire top half of his face.
"Let this be your lesson!"
The girl had no time to react.
One moment, she'd been charging toward him, fist reared back for a devastating attack, and the next, she was rolling on the ground, clutching her knees in pain, two pinpoint scorch marks on the floor behind her.
Heat vision. One of his talents he used the least, and to be honest that was mostly due to how awful a migraine it tended to give him.
He dropped to the ground, placing a hand over his aching skull, before promptly walking over to his downed opponent. A single blow to the side of her head, and she was down for the count.
Well, his job here was done, he supposed.
He paced his way out of the nightclub, before soaring away into the distance - making sure to leave the hat with its owner.
He was long gone by the time Junior's two colourfully dressed bouncers stepped back out onto the ruined dance floor. They remained in silence for a good minute, eyes wide as saucers, before finally, one of them spoke.
"Yknow," said Melanie Malachite, "I really hope he didn't think he sounded cool just there."
Her twin sister nodded in agreement.
A/N: Yes, I know this is not only not Lawbreaker to Lecturer, but also a story featuring - gasp - Jaune Arc as the protagonist! Fear not, because there is an actual reason for this. This idea was essentially spawned when I wondered if I could make an OP Jaune story that actually worked, in which Jaune felt reasonably in character and followed a compelling character arc despite, well, being overpowered (something which normally defeats the entire purpose of his existence.)
This won't interfere with the publishing of LtL chapters, fear not - it's something I'll publish much more intermittently.