Chapter Seven: The Keeper and The Curse

A woman approached The Winchester at 12:45pm.

She was someone who, in her youth, was no doubt exceptionally gorgeous. Even now, despite the slight wrinkles beneath her eyes and less toned body, she was still striking. Her eyes were emerald daggers flicking around the police-taped crime scene.

She was dressed in a black, knee-length skirt adorned with white flowers, her top consisting of a dark-red blouse with white buttons. Her hair was a brilliant flame, constrained to a tight ponytail that ended midway down her back. For shoes she wore a pair of black heels, expertly avoiding the cracks, bumps, and loose debris nearby.

Oddly enough, the only thing she carried was a black book in her left hand. It looked to be several hundred pages long, but lacked any text on its back, any cover art—even the author's name was missing. In fact, the only thing that was on the book were words in sparkly, dark-green thread:

Diary of Jane.

She casually walked to the front of the Winchester, looking around for a moment. She saw the ruined table on the inside, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight. She took a few steps to her left, looking down an alley at the broken wall of a nearby building—where several police investigators were looking over the bricks.

She started walking toward them, counting her strides.

One, two, three, four.

One of the officers noticed her, standing and walking toward the woman just behind the police tape.

Five, six, seven, eight, nine—

"Something I can help you with, ma'am?"

The woman looked up, giving a small smile to the taller man. She took an additional stride, the caution tape pressing into her belly as she stopped just a few inches short of touching the man. She opened the book, the man not noticing as she looked away, making herself look nervous and vulnerable.

"Well," her voice certainly helped, as petite and quiet as it was, "I was hoping to get into my apartment. It's the building where the wall was broken into. It um…seems the door's stuck. I hate to bother you, but do you know someone that could get the door open?"

The officer gave a faint smile, pulling up the police tape and walking beneath it. He gave a gesture to his fellow officers, currently looking over the bricks. "Keep at it, boys. I'll help this young lady get home."

The woman giggled. "I'm hardly a young woman anymore."

The man smiled a bit wider, walking ahead of her as the woman placed the book on the ground behind her. Ten strides. Should cover everything in this area.

She followed behind, standing next to the younger officer as he waited by the door. He gave her a faint smirk as he worked with the knob, finding it to be sticking. "You say you're not a young woman, huh? What are you?" he slammed into the door with his shoulder, confused as he twisted the knob and found it not to be locked. "Twenty-five? Twenty-six?"

The woman looked away. "I'm thirty-six, actually."

The officer's eyes widened as he slammed into the door again, at last opening it. "Damn, wish I aged as well as you. I mean, look at me. I'm pushing thirty and my hair's already graying."

He took off his cap, revealing a few strands of gray in an otherwise brown crew cut.

The woman giggled, walking inside as the officer pushed the door closed. His eyes flicked around it, gesturing to a rather large chunk of wood. "Ah, that's the problem. Door got caught on a loose floorboard. Outta have a talk with the building supervisor about that."

The woman nodded, walking into the lobby before turning back. "Well, thank you very much officer…?"

The man gestured to his badge. "Burns, ma'am. Burnie Burns."

She smiled. "Vera Nikos."

Officer Burns turned away, closing the door as the woman stared after him. Went against protocol for me, nice guy, decent looking…wonder if he's single?

Vera turned around, her smile replaced with a neutral expression as she walked through the old lobby. She walked over old wooden floorboards, past old coat racks and newspapers clipped and put into frames that lined the wall she was walking over.

All the while, she counted her strides.

Seven, eight, nine, ten. It should be just on the other side.

She held her hand to the wall.

Her eyes widened a bit as she saw Diary of Jane phase through the wall in front of her, thudding into her thigh before she could grab it. Wait, how did…oh, right, I had to walk up the steps first. Forgot to account for that.

She opened the diary to its center, smirking as she saw words rapidly filling the page she was on, the same thing happening as she kept turning. Information from the night of the attack—between the hours of 8pm and 11pm rapidly filled the pages as she flicked back to the beginning, reading through.

She read through about forty pages before she reached into her blouse, pulling her phone from her bra.

She dialed a familiar number, waiting until it connected.

"Confounder, it's Keeper. Egat's a snitch—deal with him."

She hung up, not waiting for an answer.

…

Stand Name: Diary of Jane

Stand User: Vera "Keeper" Nikos

Stats:

Power: E

Speed: E

Range: C

Persistence: A

Precision: A

Potential: E

…

Blake stared at Jaune, eyes dashing across his face as she slowly rose.

"What would I have to do?"

Jaune gave her a faint smile, eyes flicking to her outfit. "I'll give you a crash course later. First, you'll need some new clothes."

"Think kitty needs a bath first."

Jaune wasn't at all surprised it was Melanie that brought it up.

Said Malachite looked around, seeing Jaune, Blake, and even Miltia glaring at her. She threw up her hands. "Why are you glaring at me, I'm right! Look at her—her hair's all messy, her skin's covered in a hundred layers of grime, and if she jumped in a pond it'd probably look like a toxic waste dump after about three seconds."

Jaune glared a beat longer before turning back to Blake. "As crass and rude as Melanie is, she does have a point. Why don't you go take a shower, Blake?"

Blake looked away, tugging at her outermost shirt. "It won't help when these are all I've got to change into."

Miltia stood, walking to the corner. Her eyes flicked over Blake before focusing on her eyes. "What size are you?"

Blake's brow furrowed. "I dunno, medium?"

Miltia crossed her arms, jutting out a hip toward Jaune like an accusatory finger. "Maybe that'd be helpful if it were Jaune, but have you looked at women's clothing recently? I've got six shirts that are 'medium' that are all different sizes. I need numbers, Blake."

Blake frowned, eyes softening a bit as she looked to Jaune for help.

"She means your measurements, Blake. Waist, hips—things like that."

Melanie groaned, pushing herself off the couch and grabbing her sister. "For dust's sake, Miltia, let's just dress her in some of ours for now. You've got more clothes in your closet than you could ever wear anyway."

Miltia elbowed her in the stomach, glaring at her twin before straightening and crossing her arms again. "You seriously think she'll fit?"

Melanie gestured to Blake—said faunus looking more and more confused and frightened as she pressed further against the wall. "Look at her! She's only a little taller than us, her tits aren't that much bigger than mine—the only problem is her giant butt."

Blake's face flushed pink. "My butt isn't giant!"

Melanie chuckled. "Sure looks that way right now, fatass."

Blake glared at her, From Shadows slowly rising from her. "I'm wearing four layers of clothes! Of course I look bigger than I am right now!"

Jaune stepped between the two, holding up his hands and giving Blake a faint smile. "Blake, how about you go take a shower while the twins and I figure out this whole 'clothing' situation, okay? I'm sure we can find something."

Blake's eyes flicked between Jaune and Melanie before she peeled herself from the wall, eyes never leaving them as she walked to the bathroom.

It wasn't until she closed and locked the door that she allowed From Shadows to retreat into her, letting out a small huff of frustration. Stupid bitch. My butt isn't fat! It probably barely exists since I haven't eaten anything for so long…

Blake sighed, turning to stare at her reflection. Within she saw exactly what she expected: A black-haired, homeless girl. She saw her slightly sunken in cheeks, her clothes were old, ratty, and far too baggy on her. Pulling off her old beanie revealed her cat ears, flitting around just as they always did when she was anxious.

Which, granted, had been more or less every day for the last several years.

She pulled off her several layers of clothing, eventually dropping all the filthy layers aside. Looking in the mirror now, she saw a very different visage. One of a girl so skinny she could count every rib. So filthy she couldn't tell the particularly large dirt spots from the bruises. She was battered, scarred, and filthy.

But she was alive.

She turned away from the mirror, looking over her shoulder at her behind. It did seem rather large, now that she looked at it. As long as she'd gone without a proper meal, she was surprised she couldn't see the bones of her pelvis through it.

She turned away, turning on the shower.

When she stepped in, she let out a low sigh.

She grabbed at some of Jaune's shampoo, running it over her hair with a bright smile on her face. A warm shower…it's been months—dust, maybe years. Weird feeling water that isn't cold or being sprayed at me with my clothes on.

As she cleaned herself, months of dirt and grime slowly ebbing away as she scrubbed, she did something she hadn't done in a very, very long time. Something she only did when she was content, happy, and at peace.

She began to purr.

It was a soft sound, meant only for her, but it was there. The deep purring from the back of her throat that would let anyone listening know she was happy. Let them know that for the first time in years, she felt safe.

She rapidly lost track of time, rinsing her hair several times over and body several more. She scrubbed at certain areas a bit harder than she should have, small trickles of blood joining the piles of dirt that fell from her skin. Reminders of scabbed over wounds that she'd unintentionally reopened.

She didn't care.

To her, this was heaven.

She felt the water going cold, her fingers shriveled up as she at last turned off the shower, stepping out. Her fingers trailed back through her hair, smiling as, for once, she felt little resistance. Nothing caught in her hair, no gathered clumps to block her hand's movement.

She stepped out, looking around for a moment before seeing a small closet. Opening it revealed, as she'd suspected, several towels. She wrapped a rather large one around her body, pulling her hair into another, slightly smaller towel. Looking at the mirror now…she could almost see it.

The girl she used to be.

Before that fateful day…

She looked away, shaking her head to force the memories away. Suppress them, bury them, trap them in the depths of her mind. No point in dwelling on the past.

Instead, her mind focused on the present. She sent From Shadows out, eyes widening in both forms as she saw no Jaune, no Miltia, no Melanie, and no Neo. The only one there was Rogue, clad in bright pink footie pajamas with little cartoon swans decorating it. She was sitting on the couch, enjoying the last piece of french toast Jaune had made for her.

She recalled From Shadows before Rogue could notice, hands gripping her towel as she walked out. She stared at the child for a moment before clearing her throat. "Rogue?"

The little girl looked up, smiling at Blake as she ate. "Hi Miss Blake! Wow, you were in there forever. Daddy almost never borrows Mister Junior's shower!"

Blake tilted her head. "Mister Junior?"

Rogue nodded. "Yeah! I don't know how it works, but daddy said that there are two water-heat things for this building in the basement! One for this half, and one for Mister Junior's half. So, if one isn't working, he'll go to the other!"

Blake slowly nodded. "What about the twins? And Neo?"

Rogue shrugged, casually plopping another bite into her mouth. "Miss Neo went out the window, and the twins left with dad. I don't know where they are."

She tilted her head. "Hey, why are you naked?"

Blake's face tinted pink, very glad it was a child she was talking to. "My clothes are dirty. The twins said they'd get me some that weren't."

Rogue frowned, putting her now empty plate down before hopping up. "What? That's silly, dad has plenty of clothes in his room! You can borrow some of his!"

Blake looked to the nearby bedroom, mind wandering back to the girl's father. "I don't know if your daddy would like me taking his clothes without asking."

Rogue walked over, casually shoving open the door. "Don't be silly! I do it all the time and he never gets mad at me! He usually just hugs me and takes pictures before I change back. Come on!"

When Blake didn't move for a second, Rogue came back and grabbed at the base of her towel.

"I said come on! Come on!"

While Rogue's tugging didn't really threaten Blake's grip on her towel, she let herself be led along anyway. He probably won't mind if I say I was humoring his daughter.

Blake shut the door with her foot as Rogue dashed to the closet, throwing it open with both hands before placing them on her tiny hips. She drummed on her chin with her fingers, sticking out her tongue in concentration as she gazed at the full closet.

A few seconds later, Rogue produced a large, black hoodie and a pair of jeans. "Here you go! Daddy says these don't fit him right, but they should be fine for you!"

Rogue tossed them on the bed, scratching her chin. "Hmm…where does daddy keep his undies again?"

Blake gave a nervous chuckle, holding up her hand. "It's okay—this is enough."

Rogue tilted her head, frowning at the towel-clad faunus. "What? No it isn't, silly! You need undies beneath your clothes! And a bra, but, I don't think daddy has one of those. He always keeps his—"

Rogue smiled as she held out her palm, slapping her other fist into it. "That's where he keeps them!"

She dashed past Blake, heading to Jaune's dresser and opening the bottom drawer. From within, she produced a pair of gray boxers, tossing them with the rest of his clothes. "There! All ready!"

Blake looked at the set of clothes for a moment, walking over and dragging her hand along the hoodie. The soft, thick fabric was a massive improvement over the ratty overcoat she'd been wearing for the last six months, the pants lacking any of the tell-tale holes of her normal jeans.

Rogue hopped on the bed, panting a little as she sat next to them. "Well? Try them on!"

Blake looked over them for a moment before shaking her head, finding her excuse as she placed a hand beneath her towel. "My hair isn't dry yet, sweetie. I'd get them all wet."

Not like I care, I've worn worse.

Rogue nodded, crawling her way off the bed before making her way to the door. She was panting a bit harder now, holding onto the door as she smiled at Blake. "Okay! You can just," Rogue leaned down, taking a few deeper breaths. "Put them on later."

Blake frowned, face shifting in concern. "Are you okay?"

Rogue nodded, bullets of sweat peppering her brow. "Yeah, just…daddy usually gives me a bath earlier than this…I get really tired if I don't…don't…"

Rogue let go, falling face-first onto the carpet.

Blake's heart skipped a beat as she dashed to the little girl, flipping her over and cradling her head in her lap. "Rogue? Rogue, wake up!"

Rogue's face paled before Blake's eyes, the small girl's breathing growing heavier as more sweat poured down her face. Her eyes remained closed, scrunching up in what appeared to be pain. She watched helplessly as her little hands moved to her chest, shaking as they gripped at her torso. Her ears caught faint murmurs beneath her breath. "Heavy…so…heavy…"

Adrenaline flooded Blake's system as From Shadows emerged from her, staring down at the girl. She looked at her stand, giving a single order:

"Get Jaune. Now!"

The moment her stand left, Blake swore she felt Rogue's head grow heavier.