AN: This is a little idea born from being sick in bed playing Yakuza and binging RWBY in a week.
Main focus will be Jaune Arc, which seems to be a fandom favorite to write about. Fair warning, he will be strong in this story for reasons that will become clear along the way.
A character being overpowered is a turnoff for some readers, but it's never been a problem for me as long as the conflict and drama comes from elsewhere. (Let alone the fact how being strong can bring its own set of problems)
Key characters and pieces of lore will be different from canon.
Some examples:
-Salem doesn't exist
-Ozpin is a normal human
-No relics or maidens
Hope you enjoy and tell me what you think.
Roman Torchwick, criminal mastermind and gentleman thief, had a real bad day. A simple dust robbery, nothing out of the ordinary and certainly nothing which needed his personal attention, ruined by a single girl. He was used to setbacks in his line of work, but the necessity to run from a teenager with a gun-scythe constituted a new highlight.
Neo would laugh about this for months.
He could fight brat, certainly win, although not before their commotion would draw every type of law enforcement towards them. And knowing his kind of luck tonight, there would be huntresses and huntsmen among them. Operating this close to Beacon Academy had the drawback of getting more than the usual beat cop answering the call.
"That's what stakeouts were for." Roman grumbled to himself and decided to vent his rage later on the useless goon watching the place. All of the hired help today turned out to be useless, incapable of dealing with one measly girl. At least they would buy him some time to escape. The ticket to freedom and his well-earned nightcap of brandy awaited just around the corner and up the fire ladder.
Time to put this day behind him.
Destiny had other plans for Roman, his eyes widening at the single person standing in the abandoned alleyway. Panic welled up inside him and ebbed away a second later after getting a good look at the teenager. Thick blonde hair, slicked back with gel. A grey bomber jacket and dark pants with white sneakers. He stood with his back to Roman, holding a piece of paper tightly gripped and fumbling in his pocket in search of something to light the cigarette in his mouth.
The archetypical example for a random schmuck being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Nothing personal, kid!" Roman thought and brandished his cane in full sprint. The guy blocked access to his escape route and every second wasted was a second the red menace had to catch up. Hardened wood and reinforced steel smashed against the blonde's temple with the force of an experienced fighter.
*splinter*
And shattered into pieces. Roman Torchwick stared dumbfounded at the curved handle of his weapon, the only thing remaining after it impacted. The unaffected young man moved out of his own volition and turned around, putting away his lighter and taking a drag on his cigarette.
The guy had aura, tons of it if his lack of injury could be believed. Scanning the area, Roman noticed a sword leaning against a wall. The weapon had no gimmicks but was masterfully crafted and might have been valuable for collectors, if the actual blade part of the weapon hadn't been dented and bent all out shape. The piece of metal looked like somebody had used it more as a baseball bat than an actual cutting weapon.
Another wannabe hunter? Really?! What is with tonight?!
"Can I help you?" the blond exhaled a cloud of smoke. "You seem on edge, sir."
Fragrance of filterless, low quality cancer sticks entered Roman's nostrils. He wasn't a health nut, far from it considering his love for expensive cigars, yet nothing could have convinced him to get his lips anywhere close to those tobacco abominations.
The master thief of Vale blinked. Why was he judging the smoking habits of some random kid when a manic girl was chasing after him with militarized farming equipment? "I'm a bit in a hurry, boy!"
"The name's Jaune. Want to talk about what troubles you?" the guy said, scratching the place Roman had hit him and a hole should have been.
"I don't care, you…" Something in Roman's mind clicked into place. Parts of second-hand stories and descriptions he heard over the years brought a full name over his lips. "Jaune Arc perchance?"
The relaxed expression on the blonde's face turned into a small frown. "Do I know you?"
Roman wasn't sure to feel either relieved or insulted. The gentleman thief worked hard for his reputation and had an image to uphold. On the other hand, the guy in front of him had a reputation as well, and hopefully, most of it was exaggerated.
Although it meant he didn't have to dance around the issue. "Roman Torchwick, gentleman thief and criminal mastermind extraordinaire, we never had the pleasure of doing business."
A small glimmer of recognition dancing across the eyes showed Roman this guy had heard of him, just wasn't relevant to his interest.
Be thankful for small blessings.
Nearby high pitched screams and curses made Roman go pale. A hired goon landed face first on the pavement in viewing distance. The red menace was almost upon him. Jaune Arc listened to the threats of bodily harm getting closer and fixated the thief with a stare.
"What is the worst thing you've ever done Roman?"
"Excuse me?"
Jaune pressed on. "Did you ever kill somebody who didn't deserve it? Sold drugs to kids? Took advantage of people to prostitute them for money?"
Roman Torchwick was a professional in every aspect of the word. "No, I'm far too civilized for that kind of revenue source! Roman, the gentleman thief, remember? The hint is in the title."
Why bother selling illegal goods and services when stealing the money itself was so much more rewarding? The killing part might change soon with his recent employer breathing down his neck, but at this point in time his conscience was clear.
As such, he weathered the tense staredown, until the demeanor of Jaune relaxed and he flipped open a nearby trash container. "In you go."
"You can't be serious…"
Jaune raised an eyebrow. "That's the last place they would look for a gentleman."
"Do you know how much this suit costs?!"
"You won't be wearing it in jail. Is that your pursuer?"
Roman gasped and dove into the trash, suppressing his gag reflex just in time for Jaune to put the lid back on and act naturally for whoever chased Roman.
Jaune hadn't expected a highschooler.
Nothing about the approaching girl could be described as intimidating. The fair skinned teenager with black hair ending in red tips stood 5'2 and weighed maybe 90 pounds soaking wet. The apparent fear of Roman towards this girl confused Jaune and he threw a questioning look towards the trash container while her silver eyes darted around the alleyway.
Then she produced a piece of metal from under her cloak and transformed it into a crimson scythe which was easily twice as big as herself.
Roman's unwillingness to engage made suddenly sense.
"Have you seen a criminal get past here?"
Oh gods that voice. Both men, one standing and the other hiding in trash, flinched from the sugary cuteness entering their earbuds. Roman more out of embarrassment of being bested by something so adorable. You had the urge to take the weapon out of her hand and scold her for handling something dangerous.
Jaune caught himself with a cough. "There's a lot of criminals in this city. Care to be more specific?"
She pouted at Jaune and he squeezed his chest to battle the heartburn caused by emotional diabetes. "A guy this big, lots of mascara around the eyes, garish ginger hair, snobbish white suit and a top that."
"It's a bowler hat! Is there no sense of culture and style left in the generation of today?"
Roman's inner turmoil went unnoticed by Jaune, who decided to handle this quickly for the sake of his melting heart. "Went that way, running like a bitch. You might catch him if you hurry."
The girl smiled and ran. "Thanks!"
Jaune watched her take two steps before bursting into a vortex of rose petals, blasting away to catch a criminal she would never find.
"Cute kid, dangerously cute. A bit too trusting for my taste." Two knocks against the container signaled the coast was clear. Roman climbed out in record speed, removing bits of pieces of stuff he didn't want to inspect further for the sake of his sanity.
"Running like a bitch, really?"
Jaune shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? Now pay me." The master thief looked dumbfounded at the outstretched hand with it's palm upward. "You wanted my help and got it. Nothing in this city is for free."
Was that really happening? Him, Roman Torchwick, shaken down for money by a thug? "You remember I'm a wanted and dangerous criminal, right?"
"I'm not asking for much here," Jauned said in an even tone, the veiled threat against him completely ignored. "Just enough to have a good night in town."
Roman pulled something from inside his jacket and threw it at Jaune's chest with a muffled thud. "Take the whole damn wallet. I'm too tired to argue."
"Nice doing business with you Mr. Torchwick."
"Screw you, kid."
Club Junior was the shining example for Vale's nightlife. Nowhere else in the city you could let loose like here and forget your problems for an evening. Heavy strobe lights bathed the whole venue in all colors of the rainbow, flickering in rhythm with the hammering tunes shaking everything and everybody to the bone. Competent bartenders worked restlessly to mix and serve expensive drinks to thirsty customers coming from dancing or sending trays to VIP areas where certain needs could be fulfilled in privacy.
As the centerpiece stood the massive dancefloor, packed to the brim with bodies writhing against each other in a volatile fume of sweat, alcohol and the sugary stench from several smoke machines.
Even among all the commotion, the young woman entering through the main entrance managed to turn heads. She was tall, toned and curvy with long, vibrant blonde hair. The confident strut and smirk on her face matched the appearance.
Yang Xiaol Long knew how bodily gifted she was and didn't hesitate to show it in public.
On any other night she would have basked in the attention. Tonight, Yang came for questions only. The sleazy nightclub owner knew a lot of stuff and chances were good among it was the answer she needed.
Luckily, her target was already at the bar. "Strawberry Sunrise, no ice." She ordered right beside the club owner. "Oh, and one of those little umbrellas."
Her entrance caught the attention of Junior. The middle-aged men glanced at Yang and fleeting interest turned to appraisal as his eyes slid over her body.
"Aren't you a little young to be on this club blondie?"
Concern for her age didn't stop him from eyeing her like a piece of meat. Nothing knew for her.
"Aren't you a little old to have a name like Junior?"
The talkback had the intended effect of him taking her seriously, mentally upgrading the threat level of Yang from hot bimbo to nuisance.
"So you know who I am. You got a name sweetheart?"
Yang figured he wasn't upgrading enough after hearing the obnoxious pet name.
"Yes Junior, I got several. But instead of sweetheart you can call me sir!"
Faster than the eye could see, her vice grip tightened on his crotch and Yang internally shuddered from the sensation. She would scrub her hand with bleach later, now she needed to look determined.
"People say you know everything. Tell me where I can find her and I let you go."
"I've never seen her before, I swear!"
Frustration bubbled up inside of Yang like boiling water. Every time the same old shit for months now. She gets a lead and the trail immediately goes cold, forcing her to start from zero. Junior had to know something. He knew everything! How hard could it be to find a single person? She was running out of patience and maybe her conversational partner needed more convincing.
"Excuse me?" Yang growled, ready to squeeze him out like a lemon.
Another voice spoke up between them. "I think having him by the balls negates any possibility of lying. No man is that fearless."
Then somebody forcefully removed her hand around Junior's package by simply pulling on her wrist. Yang hadn't expected the move and stared at the source of their interruption with fury at first, then confusion. The guy didn't look like somebody who could manage such a feat even when getting the drop on her. A blonde, fighting his shaggy hair with lots of gel, wearing a white hoodie with black sleeves. His black jeans had multiple stains and the grey sneakers on his feet looked worn.
All in all, severely underdressed for this place or any establishment more picky than a soup kitchen. The barest hint of inked skin peeked out at the neck, suggesting the edges of a very large tattoo underneath the bulky clothes.
Was he part of Junior's goons? The guy looked a little young for this kind of crowd. That, and all of them followed the same dress code, down to the red sunglasses and identical haircuts.
The grip on her wrist didn't loosen one smidge while he took a sip from his drink in the other hand. No underestimating of her abilities on his part. Every visible muscle on his body looked tense.
"Arc!"
Yang noticed the familiar but nervous way Junior said his name. A known entity at this club but not in direct employment. Maybe the muscle of a local gang? The grip strength and body art supported that theory.
"Friend of yours, Junior?"
Jaune took another sip from his glass and put it on the counter. "Just a concerned customer. You seem like the violent type and I want to enjoy my evening in peace."
Junior eyed them both, signaling his goons to stay put. This wasn't a powderkeg he wanted to set off with hasty decisions. Unfortunately for him, Yang very much wanted to escalate and used her free hand to grab the appendage holding her. "I will once I get my answers."
"This is a nightclub. File your missing person report elsewhere."
A cocking sound came from Yang's yellow gauntlet as two shells entered the chambers. "Where would that be Arc?" Yang said, tightening the grip around his wrist, trying to break it like a twig.
The faint glimmer of aura dashed her plans. "The police station? I already called them, so maybe you can catch a ride?"
Red eyes flashed towards the open scroll lying on the counter. As much as she wanted to get information, Yang weighed her desire against how bad it would look to get arrested before her first day in Beacon Academy. Junior wouldn't call the cops with their weird pride among criminals, but this guy might have no such reservations.
She didn't want to spend her first day of huntress training behind bars.
"This isn't over. I'll be back."
Jaune relaxed and let go of her, turning back towards his drink. "And I have no problems with that on a night when I'm not here to unwind."
"What even is that?" Yang asked, eyeing the murky cocktail with five floating lemon slices.
"Gin with five dashes of bitter and herb liqueur."
"Yuck, I'm out of here!" Yang stomped off under the wary stares of Junior and his employees.
Once she was past the bouncer and it became clear that the blonde troublemaker wouldn't come back, Junior deflated with a sigh of relief. "You're a lifesaver. What can I get you?"
Jaune downed the vile concoction of bitter and sour, the club owner and bartender making a disgusted face for him.
"Get me another one of those for the road."
The bartender hurried to make another crime against cocktails. Jaune's thousand yard stare turned back on the counter to hit the crumpled piece of paper. His intensity suggested the wish to burn a hole into it by mere thought.
"Acceptance Letter For Beacon Academy"
Jaune Arc