Just to say, this work is written for fun. I just click open a new and start tapping readily on my keyboard without any clear goals in my mind, this is a story that starts because of this one strong impulse that has been bothering me forp quite a while now. Mainly because this is a work for fun, I don't plan to put too much effort into grammar. The plot isn't set in stone as well, all written with just how my brain process as I continue, and therefore much of it might not even make sense.
To be honest, I think this will be a sloppy piece of work, if not a crappy one. But well, if you do enjoy it, then I'll be more than happy.
Acceleration
"…What?"
"Yep, new job I need you to do here. There's a new gang in town, bunch of brainless kids who think they are tough enough to mess with my city. The convenient shop we saw robbed that other day? Most likely their doing."
"I see. What do I need to do?"
"Crude as always, eh? To be honest, it's fine for them to stay around long as they behave. Just go and teach them the ground rules, the usual. Just be sure they know whose turf they're playing rope skipping on."
Hmm…what a weird metaphor.
"…And if they don't comply?"
"Good question, if they don't comply…"
There is a pause. A sharp bark of laughter.
"Well, if that's the case, then it can't be helped! They'll just have to learn firsthand the harsh reality of criminal life!"
"…Is that so."
"It's for their own good in a way, kid, I think you understand this better than anyone else, people who bite off more than they chew usually are the first ones to die a horrible death. That's just how life works. This ain't no fantasy story where all people get along together and live happily ever after. This is the reality."
"Truly, I want to believe that they'll be smart and just follow my rules. You know what they say, the more the merrier! But it's not my fault most people tend to fail my expectations. If that's the case, unfortunate for them, then. You know what to do."
A moment of silence.
Reluctant acceptance.
"I understand."
Acceleration
Aura is such a strange thing. So strange and fickle, that there are many theories based on that stuff.
The manifestation of a soul. The magical power bestowed by gods of old. The inner potential that every people is born with that can leads to a revolutionary mankind evolution.
Along with Aura comes dust. With the new crystal-like ore, technology and weaponry take a long stride of advancement. People in the past adapted, developing safer and easier ways of dealing with Grimms through the combined effort of scientists and researcher.
Empowered ammo is invented. Manipulation of natural elements is recreated. Electricity and power generation. Nonrecyclable fuel for new types of transportations and machinery.
Thing is, Aura and dust make life easier with only little drawbacks. People naturally dive deeper into the subject and try getting something better out of it, like side-benefits that can improve their quality of life and boost their economy, or just to fulfill their curiosity and self-interest.
All for their selfish and selfless reasons, for the good of their society and their own.
But for one Jaune Arc? He doesn't do that.
He doesn't care what Aura is, nor what importance it implies as the tangible representation of one's soul. He does not question where it is from, or how he has it.
There's no intimation of it to him. He just accepts what that is his. Aura is just something he happens to acquire somewhere along the way of life, a convenient tool he happens to stumble across.
Yes, there's no better word for it: a tool, a form of power he wields. His Aura and semblance are tools of his life, just as how his legs are for transportations and his arms are for balance and grabbing items.
Aura is his to command, semblance is his to utilize. They are his powers, as they belong to him and him alone. They are a part of his body, instruments that have and will carry him through obstacles and shitty hardships.
And that's all he needs to know.
Quiet footsteps echoes as soles of plain sneakers slap against the damp floor of an alleyway.
Cool blue eyes dart up to an unremarkable sign hung atop of a random alley back door, and he stops.
"This is the place," Jaune Arc mutters to the two grunts following behind him, startling them to a stop short of crashing into him.
Wherever the new gang is staying, it is no better than a shithole. He wants not one second more that needed dwelling in there.
Jaune walks up to the door, leaving two of the White Fang members behind as he vibrates the air molecules surrounding his body, transferring pulses of kinetic energy out his body and heats up the air a feet radius in a tight column.
Convection, simple physics. Hot air goes up, cold air goes down. Factors like different air mass, air pressure and density being put into account, and here you have it, convection.
Simply put, it's like a ventilation system, sucking in air from one place to another, except it's a natural phenomenon that's recreated from Jaune's Semblance.
In addition, he tinkers a bit with his calculations, so that most of the air drawn towards his location is mostly air leaking from the door slits, bringing whatever smell lingering in the room out in the opening and towards Jaune.
After all, it's better to enter knowing what to expect than heading in blindly.
He filters away bits of dust with his Aura Field as he takes a sniff from the air behind the door.
"I'm gonna puke."
There's a lot he can smell through the door, in fact, most of them smell like shit. though only a few he can identify from the dense mixture; drugs, tobacco, rotten food, expired drinks, sex…
"Shit, I hope they aren't rutting like fucking rabbits in heat or something…"
Really, he does. Dealing with awkward situations are never his strongest fort, despite his ability in incredibly complex calculations and all that shit.
Sighing a breath of resignation, Jaune turns to address the two Faunus fanatics, "I'm going in, don't enter unless I tell you otherwise."
The two nods, expressions undiscernible as their face hidden under their respective stylized masks. Jaune looks away from them and towards the door.
His face hardening as he leans forward and places the underneath of his foot against the worn door of the new gang's hideout.
He takes a breath and alters the magnitude of the force applied to the steel door by his foot.
BANG!
Through nothing but Aura manipulation, Jaune blasts the door right out of its hinges, the thick sheet of metal crumbling inwards from the force he exerted on it.
The Arc enters the dark room with slow footsteps, ignoring the startled cries of its occupants as he makes his rather dramatic appearance.
Honestly, he doesn't really care about theatrics. Unlike Roman, who finds it entertaining and a satisfiable way of boosting ego, Jaune only finds those kinds of act extremely tiring.
But theatrics have their merits, intimidating people into listening is one of them.
The light in this room is severely lacking, he notices rather suddenly, he can barely see the outline shapes of the occupants in the room.
Consequently, he manipulates the natural sunlight that is shone upon his back from the entrance who's without a door, altering the vectors of photon motion and redirects the wave-particles thoroughly spread out in every direction of the room.
The darkness flees and the room brightens, and Jaune is able to see every gang member present in the confines.
"Okay, new gang! Torchwick's missionary here," he calls out, sounding uninterested, "now that we're able to see each other, let's just make something clear here. You lot are playing on his grounds, so you ought to abide some…"
He trails off midsentence, cold blue eyes that had been roaming around the room to capture the face of every gang members is now locked on a sole location.
Motionless like a statue, he absorbs the information presented in front of him.
Not accounting for the give thugs sitting on the crates doing drugs, there are two thugs on the floor, surrounded by a loose ring of shredded clothing.
Held between them, lies a figure…naked.
Bruised and bleeding, the figure pressed to the floor is, in fact, a faunus woman. Sobbing and wailing, she struggles, her arms lashes as they are held above her head by one of the two men, her torso twists and jerks as the remaining one lies atop of her…
Thrusting.
"What the fuck do you want, punk?" The one restraining the woman grunts, "can't you see we're fucking busy?"
Something snaps inside his body.
Jaune's vision tints red.
Acceleration
Jaune Arc has come to accept criminal life.
Two years on the streets does that to you. He has seen acts of violence on the streets, filled with selfish desires and unending greed. People who are overzealous and too caught up in their sins are bound to do stuff that's well over the line.
Human nature, people, is a very ugly thing.
That's why there's a wide range of misdeed he thinks is alright.
Beating, he accepts if it's for a good reason.
Thieving, he allows it since it is but a common occurrence that happens in millions over Remnant, and the harm usually isn't that much to the sufferer.
Robbing? Same as thieving, if only in a bigger scale.
Drug dealing? If the ones in it know what they're dealing with, then it's their own problem.
Even killing, he's fine with it. As long as the victim deserves it and the one doing the killing isn't drowned in their bloodlust or outright mad, he understands the necessity of eliminating vermin and pests that are poisoning the world.
After being swarmed by crimes and misdoings for so long, it's understandable that his view on the world is a little jagged, and that he would condone misdemeanors as long as they're not too far.
However… raping is not one of them.
Acceleration
For a moment, silence reign as he becomes the center of all attention.
Aura pulses strongly in dim light, field intensifying on his skin so much that it hurts to watch.
The two men stop whatever they're doing, head shooting up at the sudden appearance of a blazing sun in the room.
A step forward, and the cement shatter under his feet. The earth gives way to his rage.
"…You are, all of you, scums."
Glacial ice burns with promised murder, and the ground itself shudders.
"This was supposed to be a relatively peaceful talk…a little chat where nobody gets hurt as long as everyone here behave like little, good boys."
Wisps of wind pick up, faint outlines of a miniature tornado swirling into existence.
Two startled lowlifes scramble backward and leave the naked woman alone, pressing their back to the walls as they hyperventilate in undisguised fear.
"And you all just have to go ahead and do the inexcusable."
He drinks upon their despair like finest wine.
Unfortunate for them, his wrath does not quell under its delectable taste.
Instead, it intensifies as he watches them cower in dread, and the defiled woman unmoving on the ground.
"It's people like you that I take pleasure slaughtering"
The woman watches with wide eyes from her position as he approaches and steps past her lying form, dropping his heavy jacket on her body on the way.
A frantic gunshot rings out, the round hits him in the chest, deflecting off impact and nails the ceiling.
Two more follow, slamming into his abdomen and thigh respectively.
This time, he is prepared for it. He does his calculations.
Two bullets' motion reverse. They reflect, burying themselves in the gunner's body. Both nonfatal spots, but places where sensory nerves are the densest. The sinner screams in pain.
All the while, he stands, unaffected.
"Mo-Monster!"
The blonde freezes, before inclining his head in the voice's direction.
The rapist flinches, urine leaks out from his uncovered bottom-half at the sight of the glowing eyes of a vengeful god.
Pathetic.
"Monster?"
The direction of his stalk changes. He heads towards the unshaven parasite.
Staring right into the man's eyes, he questions in a soft whisper.
"What are you, then?"
Rationality gone, all that is left is a devastating storm, the bringer of destruction.
"What are you? You who defiles children? Who murders innocents? Who rapes the defenseless?"
And when the storm comes and goes, all that will be left in its wake will be ruinous carnage.
A stray bullet fired from the terrified man, somehow miraculously hitting him in the forehead.
It did jackshit.
He stops short of the rapist, leans close to his face with undying fury in his eyes.
"What are you then, Monster?!"
The man makes a strangled whimper from his throat, eyes bloodshot and mouth frothing from the waves of anger rolling off the blonde.
His arms move, fumbles with the gun with unsteady fingers as he takes aim, point blank.
Before he can shoot, a hand darts out and holds the barrel in a tight grip, and warps the metal until it is barely recognizable.
The face is immensely close. The glower on it speaks volume of its owner's anger.
"If being a Monster's Monster means innocents can sleep in peace, then I shall gladly oblige."
The Monster snarls.
In the most fearful moment in his life, the rapist opens fire regardless of its twisted state.
The gun explodes in a shower of heat, sending gunpowder and sharpens flying all over the place. The sinner shouts in agony as a dozen embed themselves into his arm and hand.
A few impact the Monster, but none hurt him, leaving him in a pristine condition.
He releases his grip on the heated metal, letting it drop to the floor with a clatter.
The noise is unbearably loud in this stifling silence.
The Monster bares his teeth, eyes glowing in equal portions of power and rage.
He places his palm atop of the trembling rapist's greasy head.
"None of you will be leaving this place alive."
Just outside, the two White Fang turns away from the door, pulling their masks away and resisting the urge to throw up as the room turns into a slaughterhouse.
Acceleration
"Ugh…I'm gonna be sick."
The cop shares the same thought with his colleague. No matter how many times he has seen a crime scene, none can compare to what he is seeing right now.
He stares down at his blood-covered shoes, face a bit green as he realizes that dark crimson has covered every inch of the floor without not a dot's space being spared.
Gore lies on the ground, stuck to the wall. Broken limps hang from the ceiling lights above, dripping blood like droplets of rain.
A man lies against the wall, dead eyes wide and unblinking. On the right side of his chest is a gouged hole, what's supposed to be lying inside appears to be missing.
Beside the body, a perfectly undamaged organ sits on the floor, thick artery gushing out red liquid as the organ pulses and jumps.
"What kind of sick fuck digs out a heart with their bare hands?" His partner mutters, returning in the room after emptying his stomach outside in the alley. His face is ashen pale at the sight of the body.
The cop opens his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by another voice.
"You'll get used to it," their superior says as he finishes inspecting a halved corpse in the other corner of the room, "seeing how Vale's crime rate continues to increase without falling, I doubt this would be the last time we're seeing it."
"Oh boy. Sir, you actually think this will happen again?" The young cop asks, feeling sick in his stomach.
"It did happen, three times already this year if counting this one. And unless criminals stop their fucking raping, this ain't gonna stop anytime soon," their superior, a weary old man, sighs gruffly, standing up and approaches his squad, "the motive of the suspect is rather obvious, as this sort of scenes happen every time a woman was attempted raping or faunus trafficking is exposed… but mostly it's raping, since faunus trafficking is nigh nonexistent in Vale nowadays. You know, with White Fang being in action and everything."
"…The suspect hates rapists?" There's always one cop in every squad that has to be a dumb one.
Sorry, no offense.
"Not sure if hate is strong enough a word to put it, but yes. Excellent deduction, Robbert," he can smell sarcasm a mile away.
"Wait," the cop suddenly interjects timidly, "so you mean it's the same guy who's doing this every time?"
"Yes," their superior nods, "or maybe it's two guys if they share the same level of hatred towards ravishment and decides acts together. Though not impossible, that's very unlikely. The pattern of these points to justify it, there's only one suspect."
He feels confused. "Why's that?"
The head officer inclines his head to the area around them. "When we enter this room, how many sets of footsteps did you notice?"
The cops pause and begin pondering. After a while, he blinks when he realizes the answer to the question.
"There's…none."
The old man gives an affirmative nod. "Exactly, whoever did this leaves no footprints or fingerprints whatsoever even if the place is drenched in blood. There's no evidence and clues they leave behind. Technology is not at the stage where it can erase evidence without leaving traces of dust behind. So, that can only mean one thing: Semblance."
"You mean is that the people who did this use their Semblance to erase evidence of their crime?" His partner asks.
"No, that kind of ability would be too impracticable. It's more of a Semblance that prevents users from leaving their marks on the surroundings," the old man explains, "and even then, those types of Semblance are extremely rare, and it'd be near impossible for two people to share that same Semblance. Hence, the suspect is only one person."
The explanation makes sense, it is a logical conclusion. But the cop can't help but ask again.
"But, are we sure that it's really just one person—" He gestures the room around, "—that did all this?"
He is referring to the gouges on the walls, the craters on the floor, the crack lines on the ceiling…
...and the entire collapsed section of half the other side of the room.
The damage is significant. And should one think logically, if the suspect's Semblance is as his superior describe, then all this damage should be caused by sheer Aura manipulation, weapons and physical attributes of that person alone.
Heads spin to the head officer, who only sighs at the undivided attention that is demanding his answer. "It's hard to accept, but that's what the higherups and investigators believe. Whoever's the person causing all this mess is one heck of a tough bastard, criminal or not."
"Do we know who he is?" The female officer questions, having listened to the conversation after escorting the violated woman to the police station.
"Heck no, else we'd already had huntsman out the streets to capture the bastard and detain him in a cell. But because of how all security cameras are destroyed before every crime scene, we never knew their gender, let alone their face. For the lack of a verified identity on the suspect, the higherups have decided to give this dangerous person an alias."
"We call him Accelerator."
A moment of silence.
"Wait, umm… but why the name?"
"How should I know? It's the council who came up with it, not me."
Acceleration
Sorry~ I know it's bad, the whole story's bad. The entire flow of the story is quite terrible that I almost wanted to cry, but I'm a bit too lazy and tired to edit the chapter any further than I already have.
And about how the council decides to give Jaune the name 'Accelerator'. Truthfully, I can't really think of a reasonable explanation for that, but because I really want to relate Jaune to the albino Accelerator in To Aru series, I just go ahead and throw the alias out, even if it may make a glaring loophole.
PLZ FORGIVE ME~
