What disgusting hellscape is responsible for how you turned out? Or that's what you might be asking yourself about me, considering what I've just brought to you.

In all honestly, I have no idea why I sat down and wrote this beyond the simple fact that something like this ran through my head every time I tried to read a Yandere story. I'm not sure why, but I had a good amount of fun with it. I'm in a gang shit kinda mood, and apparently that translates to mafia type gang shit as well.

That's the way the cookie crumbles, I guess. If you're into weird mental problems and light torture, then read as you please. I take a lot of inspiration from horror movies and stuff, so I like these things. Don't force yourself if you aren't though.

BTW, don't worry. This little one shot here isn't what I mentioned of a Jaune story in the last chapter of my story. I've got something else in store for that.

Anyway, enjoy for now.

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Jaune Arc… just what is it that makes him so perfect to me?

His blonde hair is a definite mark of handsomeness, but nothing overly special. After all, I've seen my partner Yang, she's practically the definition of blonde. Is it his skills on the battlefield?

No. Obviously not.

Perhaps it's the genuine care he shows for his teammates? The wonderfully sweet and honest personality? That jawline, even?

No, no, and yes but not the point I'm trying to make.

What attracts me to him is the fact that it would be so easy. Someone like me, and someone like him? There would be virtually no challenge at all.

It would be trivial just to pick him up and never put him back down again. I'd have to remove all those others like Weiss and Pyrrha, but he could be all mine and then some. Nothing would realistically be able to stop me.

Hm… maybe I should remove Ruby from the equation as well… just to be certain?

Whatever.

Over the past month, he's become quite the obsession of mine. Instead of wasting my time with my books, I've been keeping tabs on the blonde knight of team JNPR. I can truly say it's been an exhilarating experience. Dodging not only the people that might have spotted me, but the questions of my own team has been harrowing. The risk is high, but the reward of being alone in a way with this guy is worth it.

I can also truly say that over the past few weeks I've started to think of him less as Jaune Arc, and more as simply Prey. Because that's what he really is, isn't it? He's nothing, doing nothing besides just waiting for me to swoop in and take him, right?

Let's save that for later, though.

Through my month of tailing him around Beacon, I've learned a bit about him. One of those things is just how often he goes out to Vale through the airships, despite claiming he hates them with a passion. At the very least, it's every week. Sometimes multiple times a week, but that's more on the rare side. Every opportunity has been much too daunting to my mind, however. To continue my game into the city is a step I might not be able to take back.

But I've finally been broken. The thought of anyone getting too close to him in Vale where I can't see is killing me, and that's why I'm tailing him off of the airships here today. It's Friday, so he could easily spend however long he wants on the town and I can stick to him like glue the entire time with no need to rush back to Beacon to avoid being caught. The crowded streets would be quite dangerous. Even if it would provide cover and a good way to hide, I could lose him easily through the crowd that way. Instead, I climb a fire escape and resort to hopping roofs. Having Huntress level training is truthfully the only thing that makes this possible.

An hour in to his visit to Vale, and everything seems to be going smoothly… well, at least until he decided to step into a seedy looking tailor shop on the bad side of town. It's been nearly ten minutes now, and the chilly anger in my chest is getting harder and harder to ignore. Why would he take this long to hide from me?

He couldn't know… could he? Why would he hide even if he did spot me, anyway? He should already know he can't possibly hope to get away from me.

Just as I was ready to throw all pretense of stealth aside and storm the place, he comes back out in something new and continues along his way as if nothing happened at all.

Well, as odd as that was, I can't really afford to dwell on it. I'll follow him until he settles down somewhere and see where it takes me. How interesting could the life of someone like Jaune Arc be?

I don't even hide the snort at the thought.

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It's without a doubt a dark and dingy place, that's for sure. To my surprise, I'd ended up tracking my prey not to another shop or even a park.

Instead, we're at a farming area atthe very edge of Vale. Finding my way into the main building is child's play considering my background. Stealth is my forte.

"These are the ones, Boss." The voice of a man echoes out through the cluttered room, bouncing off the wooden beams and the various farming equipment scattered around in disrepair. The speaker is a large brutish man with a shaven head and overgrown facial hair.

"Well now, is that any way to treat our guests? Take those gags off." My eyes immediately lock onto my prey, dilating at the sight of him rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. A calm smile stays set upon his face, and nothing about his persona wavers in the slightest as he keeps his eyes glued onto the four people on their knees in the middle of the room.

Ever so slowly, carefully I shift my position around the rafters to get a better view of the situation. If these men have any intention of getting to close to my target, I have to have a clear shot. I make sure to keep a tight grip on my weapon, not letting it clang on any of the metal brackets I have to crawl around or through as I shift my weight.

Despite the darkness of the building, I can make out quite a lot. The few windows that lay embedded in the wall of the upper level let in scant rays of light that shine down like pillars on the floor. None quite hit the people that my eyes are locked onto.

The room is actually a pretty full one, as far as the living go. Aside from the prey, there are eight men. Four are standing and look nothing further than delinquents. Street scum of the highest rank actually, with all the tattoos and scars that one could possibly need. The others are on their knees in a single file line, tied at the ankles and wrists. Two of the delinquents are busy untying the gags of the captives, and a loud snap alerts me to the fact that the Prey just put on a pair of well-fitting leather gloves.

Everything he's wearing right now is well-fitting, actually. Immaculately polished dress shoes, pressed black slacks and his matching vest, everything is perfect. The only thing not positioned to perfection would be the suspenders that he'd shrugged off his shoulders and let dangle freely. Much to my embarrassment, I have to cut off the vibration in my chest before it becomes audible. There will be more than enough time to purr after I've crushed him and made him mine.

"I'm sure you must be wondering why I've brought you to the pens." He says off handedly, still busy with his gloves. "Well, as a matter of fact, I happen to own this place."

He owns this place? I can't really grasp the fact that a classmate of mine really owns anything big like this. Maybe his parents are the owners and he's trying to claim face?

I never really pegged him for one of those types, though…

"I've been told by my men that you four were caught running protection services in my territory." He says, now completely focused on the men before him. A heavy silence washes over the room, held there until the knight snaps his fingers loudly through the dark. "Hit the lights."

At his words, a standing light rig shines a nasty white down onto the four captives, revealing slick blood and heavy bruising on every one of them. Broken sunglasses rests on one of them, and shards of shattered red lenses in the other's skin tells me this was their dress code. Combined with the mostly black getup, they seem pretty high end for thugs.

On that note… just what is this boy into? If he were anyone else, I'd scrap this whole operation. But he's prey, virtually nothing. I can handle whatever he has to throw at me and more.

"I doubt I have to tell you what the consequences are for that… right?" As the rhetorical question escapes past his lips, he holds an empty palm out to the bald man at his side. In a practiced gesture, the thug sets a long length of rebar in the Prey's hand. Immediately the Prey starts a calm gait towards the bound man on the far-right side, not a single one of the men lined up looking up at him as he moves. The light dances not only off the Blonde hair of the Prey, but also off the heavily sharpened and flattened end of the pole of rebar, bringing my attention to the fact that it's been altered. Even after he'd made it behind the man, not a single one of the bound men had said a thing.

In the blink of an eye, Jaune lashed out with his foot, digging it into the mans back and kicking him face first to the floor. He didn't dare move, only soft whimpering giving any indication that he was alive. Without a second of hesitation, the Prey takes a position standing on the mans back, purposely digging his heels into his spine.

"There's a reason I bought this place, believe it or not." Jaune comments strangely, now holding the pointed end of the rebar up to his face and looking at it intently. "Pigs are filthy creatures. No matter what it is you put in front of them, they'll eat it. Veggies, fruit, schlop, shit…" He trails off, pausing completely for a moment. Once that moment was up, he spun around on the man's back and stabs the rebar savagely into the back of his rugs knee. The sharpened end punctures deep into the vulnerable flesh and undoubtedly severs important tendons.

The screams marked the first real sound made by his captives. Obviously not deterred in the slightest, Jaune wasted no time and made a matching wound on the human rugs opposite leg, leaving him completely useless.

"… hell, they'll even chow down on people if they don't run fast enough." He gives out a loud laugh at this, one quickly echoed by the men I can only assume work for him at this point. Nonchalantly he hops off the man's back and kicks down the next in the line, already assuming a now familiar position.

"Then again… that's kinda the POINT. I'm sure you can figure that out, but if you can't… well then you're a lot dumber than ya seem." There's an accent seeping into his voice, one that I can't quite place.

One that definitely doesn't belong to the Jaune Arc that the people at Beacon know. It's a lot more dangerous.

Another set of wounds, and another round of screams sounds off. Once again, Jaune moves onto the next.

"Man, you boys really fucked with the wrong person! It's gotta absolutely suck to be you right now!" The unrelenting glee in his accented voice makes not a single person in the room flinch aside from his target, one who's busy pissing himself on the floor.

Kick. Step. Stab. Scream. Laugh.

Like the cycle of day and night, it continues smoothly, without interruption. His men are obviously accustomed to this sight, and most likely much worse. I myself am enraptured. Not even a day ago I thought of this boy as weak, a target that although mine would be an easy snatch. I thought of him as weak willed… but now I can tell he is not. I can't imagine the pleasure I'll have breaking him to my will! I'm almost shivering in ecstasy at the thought of making him mine and mine alone.

Until the last in the lineup started spouting.

"PLEASE! I'll- I'll do anything. Don't do me like these idiots! I tried to tell them it was a bad idea, really! I tried to keep them from your territory! They wouldn't listen, but I tried I swear! I wouldn't dream of-" His rambling and begging continued unobstructed, for the sole reason of Jaune pausing himself. Positioned perfectly for the kick he gave the other three, he paused mid-action, apparently caught up in listening to the sad man beg for his life. Slowly, he set his raised foot back on the ground. Like lightning, his face took on a feral, disgusting expression. Eyes completely shadowed by the nasty lighting from above, and a crazed toothy grin plastered across his features. The expression lasted only a second, as in the next he was the same picture of composure as before.

"QUIET, MEAT!" He barks out savagely, making the still rambling man choke on his own words at the intensity of the order. Even though I can see tears crawling down his cheeks, he follows the order to a tee.

"Don't move a muscle." Another order comes from Jaune before he does something that shocks not only me, but his henchmen. Taking the bloodied rebar, he cuts the bindings on the man's ankles and wrists, leaving him completely free. The four thugs tense up noticeably, but make no move to intervene or ask anything of Jaune. The sound of his dress shoes tapping against the wood of the floor echoes quite loudly as he walks around to the front of the completely shocked captive.

"Stand up." Jaune orders. The captive does so with a generous amount of difficulty.

"Oh thank you, thank you so-" Not for the first time, the mans rambling gets cut off. This time, the cause is the open hand now resting in front of him, palm up. "Huh?"

"Hm? Oh! Well, I doubt I have to tell you this, but I guess I'll explain it anyway. You and your buddies here muscled into my territory… something that I consider extremely valuable to me. Correct?" An ashamed nod was what the captured thug gave in response, and this prompted Jaune to continue. "Your little escapade cost me time and money. It makes sense, then, that you would give me something that you value. Isn't that right?" The man pales considerably at that, and I think I can see the sheen of sweat across his forehead.

"B-but… I don't have any money on me, or anything…"

"What's your name?" Jaune asks, a blank expression on his face as he stares dangerously at the man before him.

"A-anvil. Everyone calls me Anvil." The thug now known as Anvil answers nervously, still sweating because of the gaze of a man no doubt more than ten years his junior.

Play Pouya- Energy (Prod. By Getter)

"Well Anvil, since you 'don't have any money on you, or anything', I guess your left eye will just have to do." Jaune says with that same blank expression.

"What?! I can't do-" Before the thug can finish denying, Jaune cuts back in with a serene smile on his face, freely letting his eyes bore holes into the man.

"Before you say you can't do it, let me run your situation by you." The gulp of Anvil was louder than it had any right to be. "Here I am, generously giving you a way out of certain death at the hands of my pets. Instead of damning you to your rightful fate for wasting my time and money, I give to you an option that has you running off virtually scot-free." Here he gives Anvil a careless shrug, giving off the air that he could honestly care less.

At this point, I can believe it.

"The choice is up to you though. After all, what's one… little… eyeball when compared to your life? I know what I'd choose." The look in his eyes… they're completely empty.

"I…" Anvil starts, apparently completely at a loss for words.

"You could walk out of here and hug whatever family you may or may not have. You could still see the people you care about!" Jaune encourages, before a thoughtful expression crosses his face. "Well… halfway, at least."

For a moment, all was still. Then, slowly, the thug reached his bruised hand up shakily to his left eye. Pure glee shines from the open smile on the blonde's face, something that should definitely be intimidating given the situation. The next few minutes could only be described as pure hell to watch. Anvil grasped at his eyeball multiple times, each time slipping off from the tears streaming down his face. Finally, he got a grasp. With a sickening yell, he managed to pop the optic organ out of its socket, leaving it dangling by the nerve. Needless to say, the man lost his shit. Instead of getting it over with, he started scraping his hands at the side of his head in an effort to take away the pain and the feeling.

"Yessss! You're so close!" He practically purrs at the sight, a soothing tone thrown at the man practically convulsing because of his actions. "All that's left, is to pull and yank. Put it in my hand and that's that! Can you do that for me, Anvil?"

This man is the devil in disguise. The joy he's getting out of this… I've never seen him so happy.

Like a man possessed, through the tears and pain, Anvil grabs at the dangling eyeball with both hands and yanks with all his might. Through his screaming, it's clear that the nerve was completely severed. I can't imagine the pain this man is going through. Not that pain is a new concept, but I'm sure the feeling of yanking your own eye out is drastically different compared to getting knocked around by Grimm. From his position slumped on the floor, Anvil eventually manages to gather himself. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he sets the organ in the waiting hand of one Jaune Arc.

A Jaune Arc who looks pleased as punch. Taking the eye between his pointer finger and thumb, he holds the organ closer to his own with a massive smile. Nothing but pure joy shows on his face as he takes in the sight of the reddened optic organ resting between his fingers. In the next second, the smile is gone just like before.

"I think congratulations are in order, Anvil. There's just one more thing you have to do." At the mention of yet another test, the man tensed up entirely. Smartly, he didn't dare to oppose. He'd gone this far to get free, why would he jeopardize that now?

Jaune let the eye fall back into the palm of his hand, and carelessly gestured the palm towards the man once more.

"Eat. It." He drawls, forcing horror onto the face of the thug. Immediately, his mouth opened to protest. Before he could get a single word out, Jaune's empty hand rocketed up and snapped only once. As a result, a gunshot echoed through the building. Between Anvil's eyes blossomed a dot of red… one that drooled blood down his face.

His brains were also blasted out from the back of his head, but we don't talk about that.

He fell back with a heavy smack onto the floor, the impact jarring more grey matter from the inside of his head out of place and all over the floor. Jaune did not flinch in the slightest. Instead, he waited until the body was finally still and made his move. Crouched down above the chest of the corpse, he gently pries its mouth open and gives off a sigh of disappointment.

"Anvil, Anvil, Anvil. You should know that when your host gives you a snack… you take it graciously." He comments in a bored tone, then sliding the gifted organ into the mouth of the dead man and closing it back up with loving care.

"No thank you? How rude of you, my boy."

Silence once again reigns supreme over the building. The only sounds being that of Jaune removing himself from the cadaver and going back to his position rightfully in my sight. It's so cute to see boys playing pretend…

"Geoff, feed these fuckheads to the pigs already. Make sure they squeal real good too, I wanna hear these freeloading bastards hurt."

"Consider it done, Boss." A dreadheaded man off to the side of the group said, already motioning the three others with him to get started as he walks towards one of the wounded men left in shock on the floor.

"Now that that's over, I can finally get down to business." Off to play more gang leader, Prey? That's fine. I'll have plenty of time to strike if I don't give myself away. "Rashul, would you mind crushing that fly of ours? I'm getting a bit annoyed, to be honest."

Play Pouya – Great Influence

From the shadows, a massive man that I couldn't see before comes into the light. From somewhere beneath his hopelessly hairy face, the brown skinned man gives his reply.

"I got eyes on 'em."

'He has someone deal with insects for him? Maybe he's just as weak as I thought…' Before I could think any further however, I felt virtually everything in my body grow exponentially heavier. Not just from tiredness either, because the supports under me began to crack under this unexplained gravity.

Worry immediately shoots through my mind, along with a startling thought all on its own.

'Am I the fly?'

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I watch with nothing short of annoyance as the girl falls through the rafters of my building, her weight finally getting to be too much for the wood and metal to support. The heavy impact against the floor leads to her weapon being thrown from her grasp, all for the better I'm sure. Without a word from me, three more of my guys trap her against the splintered wood with one of the many benefits gifted to me through my little deal with the Vale Metro Police Department… an Aura Draining Net.

Now I've got my little fly all wrapped up and prettied up for little ol' me! Wonderful!

"Blake Belladonna… can't say I expected to have you follow me all the way to my place of business. What brings ya here, Darlin'?" I ask her fairly straight, now walking ever so closer to the current object of my burning ire.

My current nuisance, if ya will.

"The Prey is smarter than I thought… how did you know I was following you?" She asks, completely disregarding my question. And indirectly calling me stupid.

After my romp with that cadaver over there, the burning in my heart had finally let up. This little bitch, however, is proving to be able to light that flame very easily. Let's try to calm down… I can't have any more disappearances right now. After feeding that Winchester to my pigs, I can't have anymore heat directed at me. No matter how satisfying it would be…

"I knew from the midway point, girl. As soon as we entered my territory, I had eyes on you." I can tell from the look on her face that she didn't even notice. "Discreet, innit?"

Ya know, with the gravity so graciously provided by my boy Rashul and his semblance combined with my net, I doubt she could do anything if I got a little closer…

"You were very discreet indeed, Prey. Now why don't you quit playing pretend and give yourself over?"

What.

I can feel the crack in my expertly crafted visage. My rage is showing… how scandalous!

"Say that again. Just one more time, dear Blake."

"Are you deaf as well as weak? I said-" No no no, little girl. You don't have to finish that silly sentence. I already know what you mean to say.

I take a few steps closer until I'm effectively in her bubble. With me so close, she stops in her verbal tracks. Raising my proper arm up, I slam it back down as hard as possible. The resulting collision of rebar with her stomach is a lovely feeling. The shout of pain is like music to my fucking ears. My rage is cleared for the moment, and with that moment comes clarity. Despite the abuse I just dished out to her, her face is pink with pleasure. Not from the pain, no no no. Instead, the key lays with proximity.

"Ohhhhh! You're one of those little monsters, are you?! And for someone like little ol' me! How sweet." Experience is the difference between prosperity and death in this beautiful world of ours, and with this type of beast I have more than enough… 'technique'.

"I know you don't mean a Faunus, Prey. If you do, I'll have to punish you!" Blake croons in a sickly-sweet tone of voice, all but confirming her state of being.

This might actually be fun instead of annoying… that's interesting.

"No my little kitty cat, I don't mean that. I personally think those little kitty ears of yours are cute." I say truthfully, recalling all the times I snuck looks at that bow of hers while under cover at Beacon. "No, I'm talking about that little Yandere strain you got going on."

Her eyes narrow, but the blush on her face doesn't diminish.

"What would you know of that? Who else has their eyes on you?" There it is. My very own stalker wrapped up in the visage of a cute Faunus with a murderous streak?

Yes please! We'll just have to break her in a bit first.

"Do you remember how violent Pyrrha was the first few weeks of school? How angry at your entire team she always seemed to be? How much of a bitch she was to everyone around aside from one Jaune Arc?" Nothing but true statements. Very annoying statements.

"Consider her gone. Of course, all of this will have to go too, but Prey shouldn't mind too much. You're mine, after all." One track mind… and some annoying thoughts as well.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Darlin'. If you remember, she's not like that now, is she?"

"… not that I recall, no."

"That's because she tried the same stunt as you not even a few weeks after school started. Just like you, I caught her. Then I 'fixed' her little problem and she's much more agreeable now." I tell her honestly. She's a much better person now after a bit of readjustment to my tastes.

Those tastes including not annoying me… or drawing attention that I don't need on my ass anymore. I can say confidently that Blake will go down the same path and come close to ruining my little operation if I don't snip it in the bud early.

Pyrrha was close enough for me, to be honest. The attention of all those huntsman after the death of that annoying jackass was enough as well. I'm in a precarious position all around, and if I slip up I'll be branded for life…

"Idea…" I announce to myself, paying no mind to the rambling degradation the kitten has been throwing at me about being weak or Prey. "You three, pick her up and bring her to my personal room. Rashul, make sure she doesn't escape or you're on organ duty." Nods all around leave me confident in my men. Rashul doesn't make mistakes, he's my right-hand man and no bitch with a fetish for being selfish or possessive will get the best of him.

"Now where oh where could I have left Sheila at?"

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Sheila is my prized possession. One of the few things aside from Crocea Mors that I stole from the Arc mansion when I left for success. I have no idea what its actual purpose used to be, but I sure as hell know what I use it for.

A beautiful length of metal is what it is, with a handle wrapped with the familiar royal blue leather so commonly used by my family. Despite being a bunch of pansies, I have to say they had nice tastes.

My room is the definition of rich. A massive four poster bed rests elevated on steps in the middle of the room. Lining the walls is nothing short of rich woodwork, along with massive bookshelves filled to the brim with not only books, but knickknacks of my choosing. A pickled heart here and a solid bar of tungsten there, it all meshes together in my own opinion.

We'd moved my newest little project to my main base of operations, if you couldn't tell. There's no way I'd have something like my actual home built in the guts of a fucking farm pen. I'm a man, not an animal! This happens to be an apartment complex I have… appropriated for the use of myself and my men and women. There's really only one rule for everyone here.

No bodies in the foyer.

Simple enough.

Back to my abode, though. Spread around my room are nothing short of the most luxurious pieces of furniture. Various recliners sat close to the raging fireplace of stone, in one of which sat Rashul. The perks of my right-hand man are endless, truly. If he were nearly anyone else, I'd have gutted him for touching one of my chairs. Instead, I watch proudly as he keeps his intent gaze on the girl laying on my bed.

Laying on the silk sheets of my throne is one Blake Belladonna, helpless with her wrists tied up in the same material of the net from earlier. No aura to speak of.

Wordlessly, I walk over to the still-rambling kitty and go in close to her, seeing the time fit to start. I roll her over facedown, which ends up breaking her from her rant about uselessness. Not wanting to wait anymore, I yank her shorts down around her ankles, taking her panties with them to reveal pale bare flesh.

"What do you think you're doing, Prey? I never said you could take charge!"

Yanderes are problematic creatures… but easy to tolerate once you realize that they're all pretty much the same person. Their personalities take a back seat to their dominating mentalities, leaving them all with the same instincts and actions.

Without a response to give her, I just get off the bed and walk to my prized possession. Along the way, I pass by many items… tools that I'll use to help her along to the path of recovery. But all those come later. I grip the handle of my Sheila, and pull it off the specially made rack in front of the fire place. Calmly, but with an eager pep in my step, I walk back to the woman in my bed and position it appropriately.

I make sure to be careful of the heat waves coming from the area of delivery, the red-hot metal making me nearly salivate at the promise of what's to come. This aura draining net makes the process all the simpler… faster as well!

Sheila, by the way… is what I use to mark what belongs to me. In this process for girls like this, there are many steps. This, however, happens to be the first.

I thrust.

The delicious smell of burning flesh fumes up my room, filling my senses completely and nearly making me shiver in delight. This is happiness, and the screaming just fuels my tanks.

In the end, Blake Belladonna was marked, just as all those before her…

"I fucking love my job!" I growl out, oblivious to the pained moans that followed my divine action against a creature such as the one under me.

Life is good! Vale is delectable!

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Hello MTV, welcome to my crib where everyone is fucked up in the head.

Down the hall is the shit that's REALLY bad. Make sure to jiggle the handle on the toilet or the water will just keep running.

Kidding.

Anyway, I guess let me know what you thought or if you liked it? I might set it up for adoption if anyone is interested in making this a real story aside from just a good little read. Message me I guess?

Ya boi is tired. Finishing at like 4 in the morning.

Once again, Shore out