It's finally here! I finally found the drive to write this damn thing and was happy with the chapter I churned out! Ladies and Gentlemen, fans of RWBY, I give you my baby, my spin-off project, my "I can't believe it's canon friendly" first chapter of When I Fall. You'll hopefully remember Grimm from my previous RWBY stories. I'm not promising I'll finish all the chapters, I doubt I'm lucky enough to keep this drive or like my work enough to do so, but I want to finish this because I already have plans for a sequel coming together and the characters in that are a lot more unique than Grimm (self-slandering).
So please, please, please, enjoy the first of what will hopefully be a complete story of Grimm. This has been spell checked but I might have slipped up, as I write these at 2am, so some parts might be a bit balls...
Anyway, enjoy!
We all remember the night Beacon fell to the Grimm.
The night monsters, some in the form of beast, some in form of regular people, caused countless deaths and unending pain to those left alive. Men and women, young and old, human or Faunus, nobody was spared the scars that night burned into them. If you were lucky, you left the chaos alive with nothing but a fresh nightmare in your mind. If you were unlucky, well...
We all remember the pain found within the scream of the silver eyed girl.
A lot of good people were lost that day. Some too young to have suffered such agony. The death of loved ones, the loss of a limb, having old wounds ripped open by a past you thought you'd left behind, there's simply too much to list in such little time. So, instead, we're going to focus on a special case. Not the person you think we will, for her story has already been told several times over by others, some with a different view on her world but all aware of the night she unknowingly consumed the city in heavenly white birthed from anguish. But, rather, let's focus on the life of one specific creature. A man who was more demon than human. A man who, despite his age, suffered more than once through no fault of his own. Skin as white as chalk, teeth sharpened from chewing on bone, fingers tipped with razor sharp nails used to gouge out parts of his enemies, and the skull of one of his torturer's adorning his face to contrast the pitch black hair cascading down his back to his rear. He'd never been a good man. Perhaps he never would be. But all stories need to be told, not just those of the noble heroes and not just those of the pure souls.
So here is the story, the twisted fairy-tale, of a man who became a monster.
Of a soul so black not even silver eyes could hope purify it.
And how, on that infamous day, his story reached its end...
"RUN! Run like the COWARDS you all are!"
The insane laughter of the monster man broke through the screams of the streets, blood and visceral scattered across the floor, seeping into the cracks like veins pumping through the heart of the city, as if the kingdom itself could feel their pain. Nothing could stop the maniac, especially not with a horde of Grimm following his heels, shredding apart any living creature within their ever hungry reach. He skipped merrily through the streets, a psychotic smirk on his face, as he took in a deep breath. "I can smell all of their pain!" His voice warped, deeper and more bloodthirsty, as he wafted his hands towards his face. Being blind had never hindered his ability to hunt down his prey, not when he was so... Bestial. He could hear their whimpers, smell them bleeding, taste their suffering, and had never let a soul escape his greedy desire to eat, eat, eat, consuming flesh and bone and hair like only a savage creature could! As beasts ran beyond him, scattering into the distance for more victims to slaughter, his eyes rolled shut. He could hear it all, feel everything within the city as if it was right beside him. Every life snuffed out, every heart broken, every tear falling...
It. Was. Delicious.
The screams and panic added to it all: What's dinner without a show? His eyelids lifted, watching as a Beowulf cut clean through a running man's torso, bi-secting him at the waist within seconds. The very sight of it all made him hungry, watching as his own sick version of wine spurted from the severed remains of what once was a man. Down one of the streets, he could hear resistance, people foolish enough to try fight off death. A jagged claw pointed down to the noise, a smirk on his lips, as a cluster of Grimm stopped behind him. "You boys can catch them off-guard that way. They're too busy to notice another pack behind them." Arm limp, he wondered on, listening as the beasts he spoke to charged down the path he'd given them. He counted his steps, waiting, wanting, listening, until the horrified screams he desired poured from afar. The sounds of resistance had ended, replaced only with the tearing of flesh and snapping of bone. "Should I have gone with them?" He seemed to ask no one in particular, for not even his monstrous family was near now. "It sounds like a good meal is being had." He could feel his stomach pulling, aching, for the taste of flesh. He didn't care who, young or old, male or female, he loved to feel the coppery ting of blood on his tongue, the rough texture of bare skin between his teeth, chewy, tasty, so smoothly slipping down his throat as he bowed for another piece of meat from a victim. He loved the heart the most, crunchy and meaty, it was like candy for cannibals. And nothing could beat a feast with Grimm, is gory and brutal family meal... And perhaps an unlucky and alive victim as their buffet.
Don't worry your pretty little head about it, kid. The other voice, the other Grimm inside of Grimm, spoke up. There's plenty more flesh-bags around Vale. I bet we can find some real tender food around here and, if not, we can TENDERIZE them ourselves! An inhuman laugh burst free from his mouth, the two sharing their dark sense of humor together as one soul. The other side of him, the darkness within his mind, had been with him since the beginning. Since he was 'born' into the world through the acts of others. Since his body and soul had been scarred beyond all recognition. It was nice, comforting, to have someone else there. Someone to guide, to empower, to feed and share the world with. To Grimm, this voice was his soul, his stronger half, the part of him that remembered how to survive. And after so many years, it had been so poorly needed. The voice allowed cannibalism, the voice praised acts of violence, the voice loved to see him lose control and become a hideous black man-beast, ripping apart soul and building, in a never ending blood orgy that could so easily be started. And all by removing his skull mask, the last remains of one of his captors, the upper half of their long-since rotted head, from him. It was a focus, a means to hide the beast within him, to mask his powers, keep his aura levels in check. The voice knew about aura, knew that his powers burned through his far too quickly, so forced him to keep it in control. It became their ritual, their little secret, holding back the vast demonic power he harnessed but used up so quickly. And human flesh was the easiest way to feed his strength, to keep him a relentless murdering machine.
All the other one cared about was power. Death. Pleasure from suffering.
All Grimm cared about was making people suffer and die.
The two went together like Nightshade and Wolfs-bane: Always a fatal combination.
Do you think they'll be children nearby still? It's been SO LONG since we last ate veal! I mean, they've probably been evacuated first, cos the POOR LITTLE CHILDREN can't handle a little blood! Whaa! Pfft... People are so pathetic. Grimm sniggered, sharp teeth on show, as he carried along his way. "They probably were kicked out of here long before we arrived. Besides, it's only been so long because you're never careful when shredding them up! They're only tiny, you always mince them!" An argument, as disturbing as this one was, wasn't uncommon between the two insane minds. Both had likes and dislikes, so it was natural they'd fight even when sharing a body. Oh, I'm sorry, should I hunt down some Faunus then? Or would you be a little bitch like last night and pussy out of killing them cos they "don't look human"? Grimm snarled at his other self. It had been one time, one moment of hesitation over noticing his victim had antlers, and the other side had never let him live it down. It wasn't his fault his torturers hadn't been Faunus! The non-human traits, it'd throw anyone off if they were hunting for humans to murder. "It was one time! Besides, I killed them in the end!" No, I killed them. I took control and cracked open her skull because you were too WEAK to do it instead! Suddenly, a woman rushed out in-front of them, barreling down the street, gasping and whimpering in hysterical panic. Just like this one. Bet you don't have the balls to kill her too! He scoffed, blind eyes rolling, as he allowed his arm to be consumed by the black ooze of his powers, a fat Ursine claw replacing what once was a hand. "Watch me."
He sprinted after the woman, who'd quickly noticed him in pursuit, and chased her down the streets. She'd had a head-start, but Grimm was stronger, faster, more bloodthirsty. Another corner and the woman tripped, falling, slamming onto the brickwork beneath her with a scream. She rolled over, eyes wide, hyperventilating, terrified, watching as this semi-human looking man stalked toward her with the limb of a monster, a demented grin stretched across his lips. Crawling back, panting, tears falling, she tried to find the words to beg him to stop, for someone to save her, for it all to be a nightmare, anything to put an end to this horror! But still, Grimm prowled closer and closer, intoxicated by her fear, driven by her terror, hungry for her blood. His readied his claw, looming over the poor girl, enjoying her cries of mercy and panic, the soft ting of ammonia telling him all he needed about how scared for her life she was, and prepared to bring it down clean through her face.
But he couldn't, his attention suddenly locked on the remains of rose bushes nearby.
"...What the-" Suddenly, pain bolted into his skull like a bullet, boring deep, searing hot blinding agony inside of his brain, forcing a scream from his lungs. The woman noticed, sprinting away as fast as her legs could carry her, as Grimm felt his world go black for the first time in years. The pain remained, but the blackness did not. Images, feelings, thoughts, voices, it was all too much too fast, he couldn't understand any of it. But something...
Something was burning into his mind.
Petals falling from a rose, Fall having come again, casting them to the winds as they do.
They'd been a gift once, fresh cut, first date. Romantic. Caring. A promise kept.
Eyes locked, words on lips, heart racing. News: Good, bad? What did they say!?
Warm embrace, tears, joy, clinging, needing, loving.
Heart so full. So full it could burst! Palms sweaty, knees weak, being held up.
Dizzy. Drained. Feel unfed. But loved. Always loved. Needed, wanted, belonging.
Pride. Love for the unborn. Never to stop for the child forming inside.
Grimm gasped, trembling, his Ursine claw having faded away, stumbling backwards as he shook his head. The pain had faded as quickly as it came, pouring out of whatever hole it had drilled into his psyche. "What the FUCK was that!? What did... What did I just see?" Hands grope his stomach, looking for a bump, a sign a child lay within him, only to find the natural flatness of a human lacking the relevant parts to bear child. A chill runs down his spine, eyes wide, a sense of loss washing through him as his palms remain in the place a babe was just a few seconds ago. Hey, hey, hey! What are you talking about!? I didn't see a thing, you just froze up on us! You better not be getting weak, boy! His other self snarled, threats falling on deaf ears. Grimm looked around, scanning his surroundings for something he knew should be there. Off to the side, a family of rose bushes lay tattered and trampled, petals ground into the bricks below by the hefty paws of monsters. He wandered to them, glancing down at the remains, mind racing all the while. "Something... Something is wrong. I can..." Head clasped between both palms, claws scratching at the skull atop his scalp, a frustrated sigh escaped. "I'm seeing things, like memories or something, but not mine! How is this possible!? Why has it never happened before!" The other self scoffed, a metaphysical eye roll a sign of mocking within the boy's skull. Maybe you've finally lost the plot. I'm all for that idea, means I can take over and you can go have your little breakdown elsewhere. Forcing him to punch his own face, the other self laughed in delight. You're being WEAK, Grimm! You're being pathetic following things you claim you've seen! Now, stop being a little brat and get back to MURDERING PEOPLE!
Fingers skittered across skin, arms left limp against his sides, as he took a moment to just breath. "You're right. You're always right. This is... Probably some trick. I can forget it, over come it, right?" He knew the answer, turning to carry on down the street, flexing to shake off the fatigue that seemed to seep into the deepest of muscles. Trick or not, could anyone have that power? Powers to make someone feel, believe a memory that wasn't their own... Was that even a thing? To his knowledge, limited as it was, he'd never heard of a Huntsman ever proclaiming such ability. To make the past call to someone, to summon forth the echos of time to another's mind, to make them relive situations, it seemed... Well, as inhumane as he was. Living the past, suffering his old scars, that would've been bad. Yet, somehow, this life he'd experienced so briefly in such fragmented form, somehow felt familiar. Like he had actually lived that life, like he was indeed a parent to some mystery child. But it all seemed like madness, insanity, to suggest that. To suggest he was recalling history of others. He paced down the blood stained road, strides long and quick, eager to escape the area for fear of another odd event, when his head snapped to the side. He froze, solid, in place as he stared towards a modest but beaten up house. Nothing within moved, there was no scent of joy, family, nothing to say anyone had lived here like the other houses reeked of... Yet he felt himself drawn to it. Hissing as, once again, he found himself thrown into a life that wasn't his own, he tried to piece together all the information on display.
New. Warm. Comforting. Promises of a good life, just a little away from the roses.
Happy, joy, love, kisses, so many kisses. A new home, a new start, a new family.
Pride for the child, pride for the lover, pride in having a new house.
So happy. So perfect. Life is perfect. Love is perfect. Overjoyed.
Hands squeeze hands. Lips touch. Belly rubbed... Mild anger. Feel huge.
Comfort. Love. Comfort, comfort, comfort. Safe. Warm. Happy. At peace.
Nothing better. Pure bliss. My life. Complete.
Brought down, kneeling, gasping, shuddering, Grimm claws into the dirt as his ears ring. The voice inside his head is muffled as his legs fail to support him. He stumbles, rising, pushing forward, knowing the house but having never seen it, needing answers. DEMANDING answers. Slamming into the door, the handle rattles to his grip, pushing and pulling in vain to try and gain entry. In a time of chaos, you'd not expect an empty house to be locked. Such a simple wooden door, such a flimsy lock... Who cares who lived here, he NEEDED answers and he NEEDED to get inside! Launching himself back, he shot forward, foot first, smashing into the oak before him and splintering it clean from the hinges, watching it bounce off into what appeared to be a living room. WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? The voice had finally cleared up, the mumble of screams now clear as day. We should be out there killing things, eating things, ripping out intestines and making pretty little icky jewelry from eyeballs, NOT BREAKING INTO A FUCKING HOUSE! Grimm huffed, a few steps taken in, before scanning the place. His lack of sight had a few downsides: While he could tell where things were, what they were, how they smelt, tasted, felt, among other things, he could never see their details unless they were physical. Patterns and wallpapers were lost on him. Ignored was the stripped wallpaper, beige with deep brown bars cast along in vertical strips, peeling and faded in places. Ignored was the maple coffee table with endless water rings, sat between two velvet shaded love-seats, atop a plain cream rug. Ignored was the empty picture frames, glass broken, pictures removed, frames hanging irregularly, some dotted above vases of rotten and long dead flowers, one large hanging above an uncleaned fireplace.
The flowers he noticed, the stench overwhelming, but the rest was nothing to him. The inhuman male sniffed up, trying to detect anything beyond the decayed vegetation, but could barely find a hint of human life inside. Just how long had this place been abandoned? And was it even abandoned to begin with? "Something... Something is wrong here. I feel like I know this place, like I know something is missing." Moving through the room, clawed digits brushing over the wooden frame of the love-seat closest, Grimm shifted towards the stairs. There was other doors below, he knew this, which lead to a handful of other rooms but he simply didn't care. Upstairs, his mind told him, upstairs is the answers. Something strong, something pulling him in, drawing, reeling, like a magnet, unable to escape and unwilling to leave without answers. This is ridiculous! Why are we here when we could be hunting down from stupid human and feasting on their insides!? Are you really going to follow some random bullshit only YOU can see? You're chasing ghosts, chasing something that neither one of us understand, and you're NOT LISTENING TO ME! It was a question of what the other voice hated more: Grimm following these strange visions... Or being disobeyed. "I need... There's something up here, something important. I just know there is, something I need to see!" The stairs lead to a simple landing, long yet thin red carpet rolled along the path leading to several rooms. Yet again, he knew the other doors would lead somewhere but... Something pointed him to one door and one door only.
Listen to me, you stupid fuck, you're not going to find anything here! We're in some strangers house and your trusting some insane 'images' you've seen in your head over ME! I've kept you alive all these years, now is not the time to get soft on me and wander off into some place you'll get KILLED! A blue door, not that he could tell, with so much dust on the knob it was like it never existed. A room beyond the door, unkept, isolated, unloved, unwanted, ignored, pushed out of life like it wasn't real. Like something didn't belong. "I just... Call me stupid, insult me all you want, but I just can't leave it like this! We'll go kill in a minute, I just- I NEED to know!" Monstrous fingers latched into brass, squeezing, clenching down and threatening to bend the metal out of shape, as Grimm stood before the door. Why was his heart beating so fast? What was beyond the door!? He needed to know. He HAD to know! Answers, answers, answers, that's all that ran through his mind. Answers to the visions, answers to questions he couldn't even understand, answers he had to have because... Something! The door was stiff, hard, unoiled, but weak to the violent shove of his unnatural shoulder. Banging against the wall, all was left exposed to his senses. Dust, lots of dust, with a hint of talc. Old, rotting, cotton, possibly a toy, untouched, never loved, never held. Wood, oak, solid once by fragile by age, forming bars. Why? This wasn't a cell, it wasn't a bedroom, it was-
Pain! Agony! Suffering! HATE! HATE! HATE! HATE! Die! Kill! Kill! Die! RESENT! PUNISH!
Must kill! Must harm! Must destroy! Evil! Demon! Revenge! Blame! KILL! KILL! KILL!
Screaming out in pain, new feelings, new echoes, forced into his mind. Claws digging in his skull adornment, he grunted through the anguish, wobbling, unable to focus. "What- What IS this!?" He felt his muscle tighten, his brain throbbed, stomach twisting and turning as if it was eating itself, as his knees became useless and boneless. It was a baby's room! The talc, the cotton, the wood, it all made sense, but why was there so much pain!? And why did it hurt! Grimm tried to move, to run away, but lost his ability to walk. He staggered back, yelling out as his head felt like it was about to split apart, body tossed back in a desperate bid to escape. Only, throwing himself against the railing, he found the old wood couldn't support his body. Snapping apart, falling, Grimm slammed into the floor with a resounding thud, fracturing the floorboards beneath him as he did. Laying there, panting, stomach churning, bile threatening to force itself from his body, the pain had stopped... But only more questions remained. What was that? Why was there so much? Why a baby's room? Why did he feel that? Why wasn't it enjoyable to taste pain? Who lived here!? The entire ordeal was hurting his head to think about, the other voice more than willing to agree. Behind the dull ache of his skull, the voice screamed. What. The. FUCK. Was that!? What did you just do!? Because I felt that, all that- that... Pain! Why are we in pain, WHAT DID YOU DO!? We've never felt that before, what have you done to us!? It hurt to breath, hurt to think, like he'd just been beaten and tortured all over again all within a couple of seconds. "I don't... I don't know. I just... Fuck, that hurt."
With a groan, Grimm pushed himself up, climbing onto unsteady feet as he did, brushing off his clothes as he did. There was no lasting damage, it seemed, beyond a bruised pride. The entire ordeal had shaken him to his core, that much he knew, but otherwise it was fine. You should've listened to me. If we hadn't have come here, you wouldn't have fallen on your ass like a little brat and we would be having fun, torturing and killing pathetic little weak humans by now! With a grunt, stretching, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, you were right. But it's fine. I don't feel the need to be here anymore, whatever it was is over now, so can we please just forget this happened and go back to what we always do?" Flexing his arm, allowing black to smother his skin and spawn forth razor sharp claws, a smile crossed his face. He was happy to still have his powers, which meant he could easily return to murdering every delicious sack of flesh he encountered. Urgh, fine! But you better listen to me from here on out. No more stupid side tracking! The black limb disappeared as quickly as it had come, fading back to pale white skin. "I promise." Turning to the door, the monster boy stopped in place. Outside was an Ursa, sniffing the air, hunting for free meat without a doubt. He seemed curious, glancing around, confused as to where the prey in question was. "Well, glad to know we're not the only ones who are late to the party." After attempting to take a few steps forward, however, he stopped again.
The Ursa was staring at him.
Um... What is he doing? Grimm had a horrible feeling sink inside of him. The kind of feeling when you know you can't stop yourself from falling or when you're simply powerless to prevent something from happening. The bear beast looked confused, as if he was weighing up his options, thinking for much longer than Grimm normally need to. "I don't know... But it can't be good." How bitter his words would be within a matter of moments. The beast outside seemed to have decided, eyes glowing hot with purpose, a mighty bellow from its throat cast out across the city, before it hunched up on all fours, ready to pounce, that it's prey wasn't all that far away.
As it burst through the doorway, taking a chunk of the wall with it, Grimm could only watch, eyes wide in horror, as the Ursa, once a friend and ally, lunged forward with a taste for his flesh...
Hopefully to be continued!
Oh, and just to make this clear, given I'm posting this near the end of season 5: Yes, Grimm shares two traits with two different characters in the series, one from Season 4 and one from Season 5 (No spoilers though. You'll probably know who if you watch the series). However, if you go back and look at the timestamp of the previous two fics, you'll see they were released BEFORE Season 4 and 5. So Grimm's design is 100% original! No cheap ideas here!
Unless of course you're claiming I work for Rooster Teeth, cos how else would Grimm do things that only appeared two seasons after I originally designed him? And RT doesn't have to worry about me getting all "I came up with it first! Meh meh meh!" on them...
I'm just proud to know I think like a RWBY writer!