A/N: Sorry about this taking so long. A lot of things have happened recently and, well, things happened. I kinda just left the internet for a few weeks, going through life on autopilot for the most part. I also kept getting writers block whenever I turned on my computer, so that contributed to my lack of activity. I've decided on there being twelve chapters total, with the order being: Night 5, Night 6, Interlude 4 and then Night 7. I will not cease writing this fanfic until it is completed.
In short; shit happened in real life, and I'm sorry it took so long to update.
I DO NOT OWN RWBY
Interlude 3
He was tired, he was confused and he only wanted to go sleep.
However his mind didn't allow him to. What the fashionista had said kept ringing in his head, that what happened with his family wasn't as correct as he believed it. Did he have amnesia? He had never been diagnosed with it nor shown any signs of it. If not, then why did she seem so convinced his story was false? He would have to go ask Hazel, see if she remembered it any differently than he did. He wasn't sure if he hoped she did or not.
But as he continued to walk towards the hospital, something simply felt... off, unusual. There was an air of uncertainty and worry, almost panic in the air. He could hear curious or worried whispering from people he passed in the streets, nervously glancing down the way he was walking. His discomfort grew as the whispers only increased the closer to the hospital he got, more and more people building into a crowd to the point he was beginning to push his way through to get to the hospital. When he saw the police and the yellow 'do-not-cross' tape, his worry was at its peak.
Pushing his way through the crowd, getting several complaints in the process, he came to a stop in front of the tape, a police officer spotting him as he waved him down. The man looked to be a chief or at least someone in charge given his stern form and slightly more distinct uniform, his burnt auburn hair in a neat buzz-cut. If nothing else, he had a commanding presence.
''Excuse me, officer?'' He spoke up politely, ''What's going on? Did something happen?''
''Yeah.'' He sighed, probably having said this a billion times today, ''Someone broke into the hospital a few hours ago, sometime between the hours of 1AM and 2AM. Fifteen dead, forty in critical condition and seventy injured.''
He paled, freezing on the spot in shock. The officer seemed to have expected that, patiently standing with an understanding look in his eyes.
''D-Do you know the names of t-those dead?'' He asked after a long moment, the words almost difficult to get out, like his throat wanted nothing more than to seize up.
''Sorry, don't have a list on me.'' He shook his head, ''Why? You got someone inside?''
''Yeah, little sister, Hazel Arc.''
The officer's look became abruptly even more sympathetic, ''Younger sibling, eh? I know the feeling. Tell you what kid, stay here, I'll go ask about.''
''Eh? R-Really?'' He stuttered in surprise at the offer.
The man smiled, almost wistfully, ''Yeah, I know how worrying it can be over a younger brother or sister. Anyway, back in a few.''
Jaune could only nod, still in slight shock from the kind offer. Completely out of the blue too. Yet, he had a nagging feeling at the back of his head, similar to when he was missing something obvious, yet couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something about the officer... it seemed familiar. He shook the thought off, it was probably nothing anyway, likely just getting confused with someone else. The crowd eventually began to thin (ever so slightly) over the course of several minutes, allowing him a bit more breathing room by the time the officer got back.
The auburn-haired man smiled as he came back, speaking up calmly, ''She's fine. Apparently the attacker was just one room away from the ICU ward, so everyone in there is safe.''
''Ah, that's good to hear.'' He sighed in relief, ''I wouldn't get any sleep if anything had happened to her, especially not after the day, or night, I've had.''
The officer nodded, ''Yeah, I hear you. Night shift, I guess?''
He smiled tiredly, ''Yeah, security guard down at the industrial district, some old school building.''
Something immediately became wrong, he knew that the second the man's eyes widened, before they narrowed. For a long moment, no words were spoken between them, an innate sense of wrongness suddenly existing in the gap in their conversation. Despite the avid chatting around them of people not paying them any attention, the silence felt more deafening than anything else he'd ever felt.
''I'd stay away from that place, kid.'' The older man said in a low, grave tone, ''Lots of good people have gone missing there.''
''W-What...?''
''Missing reports, no further contact, even some of my men have gone missing there.'' He said quietly, ''I even lost my own brother to that place. Some say its haunted, I think there's something else there, but what? I don't know. All I know is its nothing but danger, so I suggest you put in your resignation soon.''
''R-Right...'' He stuttered, struggling and failing to keep his voice even. He mumbled out a goodbye that the officer didn't return, pushing his way back out of the crowd and away from the hospital. That was... unnerving, ominous. Now he had even more questions that were unanswered, left to taunt him in his mind. He felt like he should go back, to ask who went and attacked... but the conversation was over the moment he mentioned where he worked. The fact that so many people were injured, even killed, barely registered, it was a numb feeling almost.
He shook his head, his thoughts were too clouded to think clearly, though why he wasn't sure. Something just seemed off, way too off. Everything, it was just too... he didn't know a word for it, coincidental? The nagging feeling at the back of his head only grew worse to the point it was almost painful. So lost in his pain he didn't notice someone was in front of him until he bumped into them, causing both of them to stumble a few steps in surprise.
''S-Sorry.'' He apologised, only for the girl to ignore him completely, black hair swaying as she walked away without a care. Harsh.
Shaking his head again, he continued on, finding the need to go to one final stop before he passed out.
The Library.
It was less crowded this time, barely anybody using the computers at this time of morning, much less when an attack had just occurred. He was just happy his sister was fine, but undoubtedly shaken up, he hoped he could see her before his shift started later on. Speaking of which, the call of sleep was sounding more and more alluring the longer he waited. Regardless he needed to try and gather whatever information he could find, Weiss and the others were counting on him.
He looked up Beacon again, going through link after link but only ending up on similar reports, many of them unhelpful or holding no value in them. One even claimed Beacon was situated on a cliff before a forest, which clearly wasn't true. Idly, he wondered if he should've got a coffee before coming here, before shaking his head and refocusing on the task at hand. Time was short.
His attention was grabbed by a link's title, and upon clicking on it brought him to a news website. He hadn't heard of the company before, VNN Live, but the detailed report on the page caught his attention immediately, dated several years prior.
Beacon of Despair - Nefarious plot, or something else?
Beacon Academy, the former prestigious academy situated in the capital city of Vale, has fallen into despair since its closure many years ago. It was a shame for many to see it close down, and now the building remains a shadow of its former self, decrepit and in disrepair. The Valean Council has not released as to why the academy still stands and not destroyed, even when it situated within the industrial district and thus exempt from use.
Conspiracy plots have arisen about the desolate academy ever since its closure, with reports of missing individuals pointing to the academy, yet no clear sign of any foul play involved has appeared. When asked for a comment the owners of the academy building, SDC, claimed they believed no connections between the deaths or missing persons and the academy building existed. Police inquiries into the company itself have remained inconclusive or private from the public, and direct inquires into the building have, mysteriously, also resulted in several cases of police officers themselves going missing, notably Officer Cardin Winchester.
However the SDC, when publically questioned on the nature of the building, have responded they mainly use it as an impromptu-storage for 'unimportant cargo' when their main storage facilities are full. It is to be assumed the cargo consists of the modernistic technology the Schnee Development Company are known for, however probing into the subject has remained inconclusive.
The question on everyone's mind, however, is simple; what is going on at Beacon Academy?
Time will only tell.
That... was ominous. Idly he scanned through the website for any other related articles, but most of them consisted of the same rundown; something happened at Beacon, mostly disappearances that remained inconclusive. After some digging however, he found an article detailing that a guard position had opened up for the specific purpose of preventing disappearances or catching the culprits in the act... only for the guards themselves to go missing.
Abruptly, the screen snapped to black as the power was suddenly cut, the rest of the computers around him doing the same. The unexplainable feeling of wrongness suddenly returned, like an intangible pressure that left his mind screaming to get the fuck out of there. He looked around, trying to remain casual with it as he searched for whatever might be causing it, but there was no evidence of it. Nobody was specifically looking at him, nothing was posing a threat, nothing was wrong. Everything looked normal.
That only made him feel more nervous. It was too normal.
Gathering his things as fast as he could, he didn't waste any time leaving the library and heading straight back home.
Never did he see the figure watching from a distance, crimson eye glowing with open malice.
His lung burned... Too much smoke...
He pushed past it, holding his breath and ramming his shoulder against the door desperately, fear avidly clawing up his spine like tendrils of ice, weakening him. He could hear the screams and sobs of his sisters through the door, the fires ungodly close to them, he didn't even need to see to tell.
His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline flooding through his veins as he slammed against the wooden door, praying that it would just fucking open. It creaked and groaned, but never did it break or swing open. The gap under the door only let in smoke to the room, forcing him to tuck his nose into his shirt to reduce the amount he inhaled.
The frantic screams of his sisters made his blood freeze, even as he hammered away at the door with a nearby lamp, trying with everything in his being to save them. Screams of pain and agony made tears form in the corners of his eyes, stinging his boiling skin as he heard the sobs stop and the hysterical shrieks of blood-chilling agony echoed throughout the house. Every instinct of his being was yelling at the bloody door to fucking break, but it didn't. Fate was not so kind.
Soon, the shrieks stopped, dimming out in volume before ceasing completely. As if to taunt him, the door finally broke open, only to be greeted by the living room filled to the brim with searing orange flames, the intensity of the heat almost knocking him back. The moment his eyes fell on the six slowly charring corpses scattered around the living room, three of them in a pile in the corner, his heart shattered.
Before grief could set in, however, shrieking caught his attention in a heartbeat. It was faint, so quiet over the titanic roars of the flames, but it was there, coming from the kitchen. Throwing aside self-preservation and innate instinct, he barrelled through the fire that seemed least avid, wincing as the orange flames licked at his skin and clothes like electrical whips. He ignored it though despite the growing pain in his feet as he stepped upon burning wood floors, barrelling through the kitchen door with relative ease, his eyes widening at the sight before him.
Hazel was on the ground before him, a mass of wood and stone burying her body beneath the waist, some small parts on fire. The girl herself was struggling to push the heaviest parts off, her expression one of immense agony, tears actively running down her face as blood seeped out from the pile of debris. He all but launched forwards, gripping a large plank of charred wood and yanking it off, followed by a large chunk of skewed concrete, then more wood, all the while ignoring the growing burns on his hands.
By the time he finished, Hazel was unconscious. He didn't waste any time picking her up bridal style and running over to the back door, only for it to be knocked open by someone else. His eyes were blinded briefly by a bright light, before the person - a fireman, he realised idly - grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him out. However, his eyes were elsewhere, locked onto the wall where writing shouldn't exist.
DIE
Jaune woke up with a start, flailing about in his bed blindly for a few moments, blood pounding in his ears. With a thud he crashed onto the floor beneath him, a strangled gasp escaping him as his body struggled to differentiate reality and dream-memory. Frantic eyes darted about the room, searching for signs of the searing flames, only to find none. He calmed down at the realisation, his heaving gasps reducing to shuddering breaths.
That... was the first memory of the event he had in months.
Why now?
He sat up, pulling his knees to his chest as he tried to steady his breathing and think calmly. Nightmarish revisions of the event about the fire weren't uncommon after the incident, if anything they were to be expected, according to his psychiatrist at the time. However they had slowly declined over the months until vanishing completely, mostly overtaken by dreams of a burning city instead, with a fire-breathing dragon atop a tower. Thankfully it wasn't anywhere near as terror-inspiring, just... odd and very fantasy-esque.
However one thing bothered him the most.
He didn't remember there being writing before.
A/N: And that's a wrap.
Again, I apologise for this taking so long, but as I said; real life can be depressing at times. I thank all of you who wrote reviews and theories, and even to those who added the story to communities, it was what drove me to continue this.
I've created a poll on my profile on whether I, and authors in general(but mostly about me) should post more stories at the cost of less frequent updates and chance of abandonment, or more frequent updates but more stories posted. I would appreciate it if you voted on it.
Till we meet again, on Night 5...
...the night everything changes.
