Sorry for the delay, enjoy.

Pink and brown eyes narrowed in concentration as their diminutive owner carefully aimed her flaming arrow at a wooden boat slowly sailing away. The owner of said boat lay unconscious in his home, trussed up like a turkey with his family. With precision near-unparalleled, the flaming arrow was released, and struck funeral pyre set upon the boat. With a speed only capable due to the excessive amount of fire dust aboard the ship, taken from Cinder's stash, the boat was covered in flames.

Neopolitan did not smile at the sight of the burning boat as she might have done where it any other day, nor did smirk at the thought of just how irked Cinder would be to find her high value dust missing. No, the mute's mouth was a straight line, her face a blank mask that let nothing slip.

She watched the Councilman's personal vessel burn until it was far out of sight, taking it's precious cargo away in a blaze of glory. Even an hour after it was assuredly sunk by the fire damage did she stand on the dock, just staring out into the ocean. It wasn't until her scroll starting barking that she moved.

It was a message from Cinder, as she knew it was. She had set the ringtone of each of her contacts to match their personalities. It had seemed appropriate.

The flame using bitch wanted her to meet her at an warehouse on the other side of Vale. The tri-colored young woman tilted her head, the color of her eyes switching as she did. She fingered the hat resting atop her head as a thoughtful look adorned her face. She began to casually walk down the dock towards the Councilman's home, the lighter she had used on the arrow in hand.

The young thief and enforcers form shimmered for a minute, before it was replaced by a tall Faunus bearing a white, Grimm-like, mask. Entering the home, she sneered at the now conscious family, before setting the overly lavish curtains on fire with her lighter. Job done, she exited the building, before sending an anonymous text to the local fire department. The lives of those in the building were of no concern to her, but blaming the whole affair on the White Fang would make people ask less questions.

Plus, it was what Roman would have done.

Her form returned to it's glorious self as she stepped into the car waiting for her at the properties entrance. She flashed the driver, one of Juniors boy's she had 'hired', the address Cinder had sent her. The man nodded and, thankfully, began driving in silence. The young woman once again adopted a thoughtful look as she considered her scroll, currently displaying a picture of Cinder and her lackeys. Her eyes danced from one figure to the next, as though searching for some answer in the photograph.

Minutes passed as the car slowly made its way to its destination. They passed hotels and houses, bakeries and banks. It was as they were passing a bookstore that Neo shrugged and grinned wildly. Using the editing tool on the photo, her finger danced across the image as she drew. When she finished, she tossed the scroll onto the seat and leaned back and smirked widely.

It was only when the driver arrived at his destination that he realized something was wrong. The Neo in the back of the car was oddly still, and didn't he built up the nerve to touch the girl, she shattered into millions of pieces, leaving only the scroll behind.

And the image upon it of a crudely drawn Neo holding her parasol, with the images of Cinder and her crew covered in blood and x's over their eyes.

Weiss Schnee.

That was the name of the girl that owned the wallet that had somehow ended up in his bag. The rather rude girl from the elevator. The same one who was likely very upset that she couldn't access her room right now. You know, 'cause he had her key-card? And her lien. And her I.D.

And credit card. The essentials.

"And here I thought you weren't a criminal. Any other secrets you're keeping from dear Uncle Roman, hmm? Perhaps the wallet of the President of the SDC to go with the heiresses?" Roman commented infuriatingly smug.

Jaune worried at his lip. "I'm not!" He denied, tossing the wallet onto his bed. "I don't know how it got here!" He began pacing, hand opening and closing in time to his steps. "Last I saw it, it was in her bag in the elevator." His eye's widened, before narrowing. That was the first place he had seen it and the girl, and the last until he had found it in his bag. He remembered Roman's interest in it and the loss of feeling in his arm. The teen stopping his pacing as he glared at the wallet. "It was you."

"What?" The master thief asked in mock shock.

"You took it! I don't know how, but you stole her wallet when we were in the elevator." He knew it, and it terrified and angered him. It was something much scarier than hearing Roman's thoughts or feeling his emotions. It was a loss of control. If Roman could somehow control him, well.

He had read enough comic books to know where this was heading.

But he wouldn't let that happen. This was his body, and he refused to give it up. He wouldn't become a puppet for the ghost inside him to use. And he sure as hell wouldn't be used for any more crimes.

Amusement meet anger in his mind, "Cool your jets kid. I don't know what you're thinking, not at the moment at least, but I can guess." If Roman had a face he'd be smirking. "You probably think I'm planning on taking over your skinny ass, aren't you?" Roman's laughing voice echoed in Jaune's head. "Don't answer, it's obvious. However, this may surprise you but," That smirk that may or may not be widened. "I've already tried." Roman's voice taunted, much too amused for Jaune's liking.

"You what!" Jaune shouted in surprised horror, eyes widened and mouth agape.

"Relax," The crook drawled, "it's not as though it worked. Nor was it intentional. I tried to move when I first got in your noggin, confused as hell as to where I was." The master criminal snorted, "Couldn't twitch a finger."

Jaune clenched his fist, before pointing dramatically at the wallet lying innocently on the bed. "Then how the hell did you grab it!"

If Roman could, he would have shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but I have an idea."

Jaune dropped onto the bed, causing the wallet to bounce. Glaring up at the ceiling, Jaune waved his hand vaguely in the air. "Care to share?"

"Ooh, snippy. Not very hero like, kiddo." Roman mocked, "You should work on that since you are so determined to be one."

"I'm sure Beacon has classes. Now, care to share?"

"Fine, fine. Kids these days, don't have any patients. If I had to guess, I'd say that the reason I was able to grab little Miss Riches wallet was because you were distracted."

"Distracted," Jaune said blandly. "I was distracted so you got to use my arm to commit a crime."

"Well, it's not like you were using it," Roman responded flippantly.

It was hard, Jaune idly noted, to decide where to look when speaking with someone in his mind. It also made a number of rude looks and gestures meaningless. "So because I wasn't using my arm at the moment, you were able to just swoop in and use it? Then why didn't you do anything while I was sleeping last night." His eyes widened, "You didn't make me do anything last night, right?" The blonde half asked, half begged the voice in his head.

Roman's response took longer than he would have liked.

"No." Jaune sighed in relief. "I tried, but it was like trying to lift a cargo crate without any tools." Annoyance flowed with the criminals words, assuring Jaune that they were true. That or Roman was annoyed that his joy-riding with Jaune's body might have been figured out.

He chose to believe Roman was telling the truth. It was much more comforting.

"Why, though? This doesn't make sense!" Jaune sat up in a furry, standing before pacing. "Why could you control my arm then and not when I was asleep? Hell, how could you control my arm at all? No, better question." He glared at himself in the mirror above the nearby dresser. "How are you in my head in the first place?"

Amusement washed over the aspiring huntsman. "Finally asking the big question." Roman praised mockingly, "It only took you what, twelve, fourteen hours?" The outlaw snorted, "I can see you will do excellently as a Huntsmen." There was a moment of silence, "That was sarcasm, by the way. Just wanted to make sure you caught that."

"I did," Jaune growled out. There was just something about the man that set the Arc on edge.

"Good, just wanted to make sure those of us who are a bit, slower, were up to speed." It's amazing how much mockery could be put into so few words. "Anyway, the short answer is aura."

Jaune rubbed his temples, "And the long?" He could only hope to whatever deity was listening that this wouldn't become a trend.

"Also aura." The thief cheerfully replied. "But with a bit more words and a lengthy explanation. The long and short of it is, since I was using my aura, the manifestation of my soul, to unlock yours when I died, my soul basically hitched a ride to survive."

It sounded reasonable enough to Jaune. Almost like something out of a comic book, or a movie. But, then again, so did a mystical force field powered by the soul. He really didn't have anything to go by when it came to aura. Hell, he hadn't even heard of it until last night. Not even in his father's or grandfather's stories. Actually, now that he thought about it, what was that all about? One would think that they would mention something as important as aura when telling tales of their past deeds.

Unless, of course, it was something that they thought was so obvious to know that they forgot to mention it. Yeah, that was it. They just thought it was something so obvious to have that they never bothered to mention it in their nighttime stories. Just a minor detail they left out. Or maybe they did it on purpose, to make the dangerous bits more exciting. That was it, it had to be.

Suddenly, Jaune didn't feel comfortable in the bedroom. Hurriedly, the teen exited the room, nearly tripping over Roman's cane, which had been left on the floor the previous night. With an oath, he stumbled out into the hallway and moved into the living room of the suite. The room was large, far larger than it strictly needed to be. A few seats, chairs and sofas and the like, dotted the room. A long coffee table sat in the middle bearing a large fruit basket and complimentary magazines. The far right wall was dominated by a painting of the Atlas skyline, and near that was a small but functional kitchen. The left wall was dominated by a large television, Jaune swore it was at least three times larger than the one at home.

Jaune ignored the room, for the most part, making his way to the balcony overlooking Vale. He took a moment to bask in the sunlight, before moving towards the edge. There was a nice wind blowing, pushing his hair and carrying the scent of the nearby sea. It was a stunning view, from where he was standing, he could see the great city stretching into the distance. Buildings stretching into the heavens all around, with people wandering the streets below. Bullheads could be seen flying here and there. His eyes eventually fell on the majestic sight of Beacon in the distance. The great school stood tall against the skyline, a sign of peace and hope for the citizens of Vale. It was as he stared at his destination, that a worrying thought occurred to him.

"Is this common, Roman?" Jaune asked hesitantly. If this was a common thing, something that happened enough to not be considered impossible, then someone might be able to tell Roman was in his head. And, well, he wouldn't blame them for taking a closer look at his transcripts after realizing that his aura had been unlocked so recently. Oh, and the fact that he had a criminal in his head would make anyone suspicious.

Roman's response was slow to come, "No. In fact, I've never heard of something like this ever happening before."

Jaune felt a roller coaster of emotions suddenly surge through him, though mainly it was relief and confused anger. Relief that it would be unlikely someone would be able to tell that Roman was in his head, and anger and confusion over Roman's explanation to their situation.

"Then how do you know how this happened?" Jaune whispered into the breezee. The young man suddenly felt very tired. A lot had happened in a small amount of time and it was finally hitting him. Even the few hours of sleep he had gotten had only delayed it all. He had seen a man die. Even if the same man was now in some kind of limbo in his head, it didn't change the fact that he was dead.

"It's an educated guess, really." The dead man admitted, "When you found me, the only thing keeping me tied to life was my aura. My soul." Jaune could feel the emphasis, and winced a little. It's spurned a bit of guilt within the boy. "And I used that last bit of it to awaken your own. Without it, my body died. Now, normally when someone unlocks another's aura, they basically just give it a good kick to get it going. It can be tiring if the others aura is large enough, but you don't lose any aura. This is because it naturally returns to your body." Roman paused, "Are you keeping up?" He drawled out. Jaune rolled his eyes and nodded. Roman got the gesture, apparently he saw what Jaune saw, and continued on. "Good, you pick up on things quickly. At least you have that going for you." Jaune sighed, complement with an insult, can't have one without the other. "The thing about aura is, when you die it's gone. Now, here's where our situation, and my theory comes in. I put my aura into you to unlock yours, and died. Now, that aura suddenly found that it had nowhere to go. So, I believe, that with nowhere to go it stayed in you. And since it was all that was left of me, I woke up in your head."

Jaune was silent, and for a moment all that could be heard on the balcony was the sound of the city below. He really didn't know what to say, it was more or less the same as what he had been told before, just with more words and a bit of background information. And he once again could not deny that it made a bit of sense. Really, how could he argue it when he was speaking with the soul of a dead man? Not to mention that he really didn't have any knowledge to counter Roman's theory. It was all too much for Jaune, who let out a moan.

"I'm going to bed." He said it more for himself than for Roman. He didn't need all this drama. He didn't need to drive himself mad over thinking his situation. It was just like Grandpa Arc used to say; 'Sometime's you just got to take the world as it presents itself and move on.' Well, the world had put Roman in his head, and he didn't see anyway he could get rid of him. Maybe something would come up at Beacon, but until then, Jaune would just have to accept it and move on. Really, was that any different than what he had been doing already?

He moved back through the living room back towards the bedroom, rubbing his hand through his hair. Jaune took a moment to clean off the bed, putting his duffel bag on the dresser for easy access in the morning and tossing the shopping bags into a corner. When he came across the wallet, Weiss Schnee's wallet, he hesitated. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He could give it back, he knew the girl was staying in the hotel, but that meant he would have to explain how he came to have it. He wasn't a very good liar, and she would think he was crazy if he told her the truth. He sighed and put it next to his duffel. Maybe he would get lucky and be able slip it back into her purse on when he left for Beacon. Or he could hand it over to the police later, say he found it on the street.

With a sigh he fell onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes.

This, this was his punishment for all the wrongs he had done. Taking the money Roman offered, stealing that wallet, his 'admittance' into Beacon. All of it. He wasn't much of a religious person, in fact he didn't even know any, but right now he was sure whatever god was out there was laughing at him. Jaune moaned pitifully as he staggered throughout the damnable machine he was forced to ride in. Why were there no seats in this damn thing? Really, who designs a transport without anywhere to rest? Was it a test, or just the universe's way of spiting him?

He pointedly ignored Roman, who was moaning about Jaune's moaning. He couldn't help his motion sickness, everyone in his family had it. His youngest sister couldn't even ride a bike because of it. Luckily, the flight from the Vale air-docks to Beacon was fairly short. Fifteen minutes at most, with the majority of flights only being ten, or so the pamphlet he had read promised. A quick glance at the time shown on the bottom of the news, which was being played for some odd reason, showed he had around seven more minutes of torture.

"...searching for notorious criminal Roman Torchwick…" Jaune turned away from the broadcast, he already knew all he wanted about Roman. Besides, his dad had always told him that he couldn't trust anything the Vale News Network said. Apparently they were just a mouthpiece for the council.

With a groan, the huntsmen hopeful turned his mind to other things. Or at least he tried to, as a sudden, slight bout of turbulence sent his stomach flipping. The wannabe-knight covered his mouth with his hands, praying to delay the inevitable. He cursed himself for forgetting to buy more pills for his condition, but in his excitement he had completely forgotten.

And it looked like he was about to pay the price.

With unsteady steps he hurried towards the nearest restroom, doing the best to ignore the snickering and snide comments made by others. For a moment he dared to hope he would make it, but it was not to be. With a great heave, he emptied his stomach onto the floor of the Bullhead. He moaned as he stood back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Eww! Yang, it's on your shoe!" A voice cried in disgust.

Jaune turned, and with mounting horror, saw that his vomit had slowly made its way towards two girls a little ways behind him. It was a certain amount of guilt and embarrassment that he realised that, yes, it had gotten onto one of their shoes. He winced, if that had happened to one of his sisters, well, it wouldn't have been pretty.

He still couldn't look at boots the same way.

The best thing to do would be to immediately apologise, and Jaune made to do so, however it was at that moment that they docked at Beacon. Caught in the flood of prospective students, Jaune soon lost sight of the two girls. With a sigh he shifted his duffel on his shoulder and made his way off the ship.

Beacon was much, much more impressive up close.

It towered above them all like a fortress, vast and imposing. The highest point, a large tower that stood unopposed by the much shorter structures near it. Everything seemed to be rather circular, from the buildings to the walls. That was probably done on purpose, and if it wasn't then he really didn't know what to grounds were rather wide and allowed for many, many plants to be spread across the extensive courtyard ahead. Trees dotted the campus, with flowers and bushes easily spotted even from his spot near the Bullhead. It was easily the most beautiful and intimidating school he had ever seen.

And there goes his stomach again.

The teen rushed towards the nearest trash can, glad to at least not be throwing up on the floor, again. Where someone could step in it, again.

"You know, it's actually kind of impressive." Roman remarked casually as Jaune finished emptying his stomach into the trash can.

"What is?" Jaune groaned, as he leaned on the trash can, head bent.

"The fact that you managed to gain a horrible reputation before you even arrived at this shining death trap." The dead man laughed, "I bet you get an embarrassing nickname, something to haunt you forever. Something like 'The Blond Barfing Buffoon' or 'Sir Up of Chuck'. Though that last one might have worked better if you still wore that armor of yours. Though the sword and shield might do, so there is still hope."

Jaune glared into the garbage, "Oh shut up." He might have said something more about it, if not for a sudden explosion not to far away. "What was that?" Jaune shouted, hand fumbling for his sword, before relaxing a bit when he noticed no one nearby was at all concerned. Still, he was curious and began to make his way towards the explosion site.

"Yes, let's make our way towards the explosion." He could practically feel the sarcasm, "Well, at least you think like a bloody huntsmen."

Jaune chose to take that as a complement, smirking a bit as he made his way towards the rapidly clearing dust cloud made by the earlier explosion. As he got closer, he was able to make out the form of the girl who had been standing near the girl whose shoes had gotten some puke on them. She seemed to be alright, no visible injuries at least, and lying on the ground. Her color choice, red and black, reminded him of his youngest sister.

"Oh, there is no way I am that unlucky." Roman spat out, anger radiating from the spirit in Jaune's head. "Though of course it would have to be her. Listen, leave the brat alone to sleep or sulk or whatever the hell she's doing. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with her."

It wasn't that Jaune was intentionally ignoring Roman's, well he hesitated to call it advice. It was more of a strongly worded suggestion with the subtext being 'do as I say or I'll make you regret it'. However, he had been raised to help those he could, and he just knew his mother would skin him if she found out he walked by a girl lying on the floor without making sure she was okay. Also, the fact he was almost certain it would annoy Roman.

"Hi, I'm Jaune."

"Fuck you kid."

Again, terribly sorry for the delay, though I hope this chapter was satisfactory.