Jaune was proud that he didn't flinch as blazing fingers traced his cheek.

"hmm… Jaune, you did well. Far better than your father." Cinder whispered as she leaned over.

He had just come back from meeting Adam Taurus, the dude with the long red sword with anger issues. After the adrenaline faded from the intense short match Jaune realized what he just did.

He humiliated and tortured the prized Lieutenant in front of the whole damn White Fang. His method to disarm his opponent was brutal and ruthless. He, a vile human, defiled a faunus right in front of thousands of militarized terrorists.

To make it worse, the moment he stepped off the stage, the bloody Red Beast was waiting for him, posture tensed and fingers tapping against his sword. It was an understatement to say it was lucky he survived.

Jeez, just thinking about it made him shiver.

He froze as Cinder whispered in his ear, "Jaune, I have a new task for you."

The Torchwick rose an eyebrow, "already? I just got back."

Cinder frowned, "it's not due in another week, you have plenty of time to rest."

Then she told him about the next dust raid in the docks.


Jaune tucked his hat to cover more of his face.

Normally, it was unwise for a criminal like him to move in broad daylight. Especially with the Vytal Festival approaching.

He was over to meet one of his contacts, or rather, Roman's contact.

However, something caught his attention.

He was by the side of the road when his sense tinkled. He followed his instincts and his eyes shifted towards a shop.

Tukson's Book Trade.

His chest tightened. He felt it, killing intent, bloodlust, the smell of blood.

His curse was lurking in his mind, he was stirring.

He swayed on his feet and leaned against a lamppost, his headache was getting worse by every passing second. Jaune clutched above his heart and panted. This was not good, not good at all. Not now! Not in an open street crowded with people! Not in broad daylight.

As if Monty heard his pray, the pain in his chest subsided and the curse weakened its hold on his mind, he slumped back into sleep. His head cleared and Jaune took a deep breath, his heart thumping against his ribcage.

That was… too damn close.

He turned to the shop just in time to see Emerald and Mercury walk out the door. They didn't seem to notice him across the street.

Jaune gasped, Mercury's boots were painted with spots of red.

A ball of lead curled in his gut as he smelled a thick scent of blood enter his nose, and the source was coming from the crack of the shop's door.


Jaune sighed as he tilted the bottle, bitter yet soothing liquid slid down his throat and into his aching stomach.

"So, kid, you wanna talk about it?" Hei Xiong was keeping him company, leaning over the counter and stared at the dance floor with bored eyes.

Jaune called him Junior. He's a cool guy, the kind of friend that you could always count on and just tell him of all your problems. He had that comforting aura.

"It's… it's nothing," Jaune closed his eyes. Honestly, he just wanted to let all his built up emotions out and screw it. He was pretty sure he was losing his mind.

"You know you can tell me everything, right?" Jaune tilted his head to stare at him, "well, maybe not everything. But you know what I mean."

The criminal grunted and the bartender frowned in a show of concern.

"I… I saw someone get killed." Junior was genuinely surprised.

"I thought you criminals always deals with that kind of shit." Jaune chuckled and took another sip from the shitty booze.

"Not always, not for me anyways, I avoid killing. Barely more than five scums," Jaune paused, and against the better of his judgment, he talked, "but it's… different."

"How so?" Junior called one of his goons over to take his place as he himself sat on the seat next to the Torchwick.

Instinctively, the blonde's hand reached up and touched the rim of his glasses, and he told Junior his story.


"…shit..."

"Shit indeed."

It was midnight when they finished talking. Most of the customers were long satisfied and had left for the night. Only a couple people remained.

"You know, when I say you can tell me everything, I don't expect you to tell me… that."

Yes, Jaune told him.

His curse, his burden.

"Hmm," Jaune snorted, "the only thing that keeps that… thing from coming up and fucking kills everyone, is this." His fingers pointed at his glasses.

Junior groaned and picked up a bottle from the counter and drank half of it in one go. He slammed it back on the table, the loud clang startled a few of people, "that's… a lot to take in."

"Give yourself some credit, you took that a lot better than Roman did," Jaune laughed. That moment, his scroll vibrated. He fished out the device from his pocket and glanced at the message.

"Roman?" Junior leaned over to look at the screen, his breath smelled of shitty beer.

"Yea, I should've been back two hours ago. I passed the curfew, and daddy's worried."

"Overprotective much?" Jaune chuckled.

"Hardly," he stood, slightly off-balanced from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, "as much as I'd like to stay, I better be off, before Roman gets impatient and sends Neo to retrieve me."

He made if halfway across the hall before Junior called to him, "Jaune!" said person turned, "just remember, I'll be here if you need help." Jaune smiled warmly at Junior, at his friend.

"Thanks! I'll keep that in mind," feeling slightly better before he came, Jaune strolled out the nightclub.


Back in their safe house, when Roman and Neo was long asleep and snoring, Jaune laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.

His body was sore, his mind demanded sleep, and yet he refused to drift to unconsciousness no matter how long he closed his eyes.

He was scared.

It was different with that kind of 'oh shit I'm gonna die!' panicked scared, but the feeling people had when he knew that shit was to come and he could do nothing to avoid it. It was like being bitten away little by little, down in a hole waiting to rot and knowing that nothing could change his fate.

Jaune had no past memory two years ago.

He woke up in a forest years ago without any memories, confused and scared. He didn't even know his name, he didn't remember where he came from, he had no fucking idea where he was at that time.

All the confusion and fear was suffocating, wandering in the forest and attacked by unknown creatures with dark fur and gleaming red eyes of predators.

He met Roman when he was near his deathbed after attacked by a Taijitu.

He activated his Aura and gave him bandages. Roman let him follow him around but did and gave him nothing more.

The man was infuriating, at one point he was treating him no matter than trash, he was just a homeless kid picked up by a generous criminal.

He remembered clearly Roman saying this once, "you're just a luggage boy, kid. Nothing more, nothing less."

He followed him like a lost puppy. He managed impressed him with his unknown talent with knives, he shocked Roman when he gathered intel and analyzed them as if simple as breathing.

Maybe Roman finally saw his potential, he gave him his namesake. And thus, Jaune became Jaune Torchwick.

Roman taught him how criminal works, Neo trained him, or rather, beat him and taught him closecombat.

He knew their network inside out, he revised all the positions of their safe houses, he learned how to fight dirty. He knew how to survive.

Then that happened.


Insane laughter, a twisted grin on his face, violet glowing in madness as he swung the knife again and again. Every swing caused deep scars on the pavement and the cobblestone walls.

"NEO! DISTRACT HIM!" a male's voice screamed, much to his annoyance. He swung at the man with bowler hat, who yelped as the man barely dodge to the side and hid behind some cover.

Heels connected with his head and he stumbled forward. Growling, he turned and dug his knife into the girl who shattered like glass.

He sneered as he stepped closer to his assailant, knife dripping with blood did little to bother his grip on the hilt.

Must… destroy…

He swung, and the girl with dual colored hair stepped back from reach. He swung again, but stroke nothing but air. He received a spinning kick again on his stomach, and much to the weakling's surprise, he didn't appear to be fazed in the slightest. She retracted her leg when he swung his knife down on her leg.

Weak.

Weak.

WEAK!

He roared in laughter. He was enjoying this! The feeling! The excitement! The joy he felt as he hunted his preys like a predator! The shivers he felt whenever he strikes gazed the girl! It was addictive!

HE WANTED TO KILL EVERYONE!

"JAUNE!"

He blinked. Jaune? Who's that? Sounds familiar, yet unfamiliar. He absently dodged the girl's flying kick and deflected her small fist.

"JAUNE TORCHWICK! YOU BASTARD!"

This time, he stiffened.

Jaune Torchwick.

Jaune Torchwick?

Shouldn't it be Jaune Arc?

Who the fuck was Jaune Torchwick?

Wait, Jaune Arc? That stirred something in his mind.

Jaune Arc? Jaune Torchwick? ARGGH!

This was getting confusing, too complicated!

His head hurts!

Jaune Torchwick! Jaune Arc! Who were they!

His mind cracked.

He dropped his knife and clamped his hands over his head. He tilted and screamed into the night sky.

Something hard and solid hit him from behind, and he saw black.


It was not the first time he lost control.

It wasn't him, it was… the dark being inside him.

He was Jaune Torchwick, not Jaune Arc, not him!

Jaune clutched his head.

It was not him. He was Jaune Torchwick! The son of Roman Torchwick! The best criminal in town second to only his father!

The blonde gasped, sweat pouring down his face like he just finished a marathon sprinting. His shirt was sticky and stinks, and it was becoming uncomfortable.

He stood, body aching and sore.

Maybe a shower would cool his nerves.

He moved to the bathroom after he grabbed spare pajamas. Jaune flipped the switch on the wall, wincing slightly as his eyes slowly got used to the light.

As the blonde looked at the mirror, face blank and emotionless. His reflection grinned back at him, violet eyes glowing with madness.

And the only thing that kept that thing at bay was the frail glasses he was gripping in his fist.

Jaune Arc, it did sound familiar, rolls of the tongue too. Was that his name? He didn't know, his memories were in bits and made absolutely no sense.