In an unkown city, late at night...

A young woman walked through the normally busy and noisy streets, now empty of such things. The darkness of night covering everything not lit by the streetlights, and the silence that came with it seemed almost unbearable to her, as she was usually surrounded by people. The lack of... anything, almost seemed to come out and grab her. She just wanted to get home.

She quickened her pace, her long, brown hair now rising slightly from her speed. That was when she heard it.

*metal clinking*

She didn't turned around, just began running, her hair now flowing through the air.

Her long, beautiful hair. Just begging to be pulled on, smelled, chewed on...

And eaten.

She kept running, only to trip on her own foot. She turned around midway, to lessen the damage. Only to see him.

A dark-skinned man, clad in Beowulf skin, face hidden by a large hood, and the Beowulf head resting on his right shoulder. He had knives looped through his fingers, hands down by his legs. He walked closer to the woman, his mouth twisted in an evil smile.

"aH... i ShAlL dInE oN sUcH fLeSh ToNiGhT, oH yEs, ClArA, I ShAlL..."

The woman paled, backing up using her hands and feet, but she knew she couldn't get away. She looked for anything at all, hoping for something to save her. Grabbing ahold of a thick stick, she held it front of herself. All the while he kept getting closer, the distance between them closing...

When he jumped back, a long blade sticking into the ground he stood on. He growled, looking around for anymore would-be attackers. When looked back, he saw a young man standing in front of the woman.

He was wearing a red robe, the edges burnt black. The robe was open towards his legs, black pants underneath, pulled over black boots. One of his ash-gray gloved hands resting on the hilt of the sword, the other held a large book, it's cover shone a blood red. His hood covering his face, only showing his nose, mouth, and rectangular framed glasses.

He picked up his sword, the grey blade shone , revealing red runes, too small to make out on the thin blade. His hilt, a stalwart dark blue, had four small pegs sticking out, two each on opposite sides of one another, and each about a hands length apart and big enough for grabbing. He gripped one of the pegs and spun the sword around, and adjusted his stance. The dark-skinned man charged forth, swinging his knives at the young man, only to be blocked by his sword. The knives clanged loudly, and soon afterwards the dark-skinned man threw smoke bombs at him, covering the area in smoke. Soon afterwards, the dark-skinned man jumped out, and threw four of his finger knives at the red-robed man.

He walked toward the young woman, his evil smile had never left his face. As he got closer, the smoke cleared, the knives were stuck in midair, blade deep in a white rune a foot from the red-robed man's face. The knives fell when the rune disintegrated, and he swung his blade at the crook.

When something smashed the would-be hero into a nearby wall, making him drop his gear. And kept him stuck in it. The crook laughed hysterically, and chanted in a sing-song voice,

"cLaRa, ClArA, wHaT sHaLl I eAt? WhY tHiS fInE fEmAlE tReAt!

ClArA, cLaRa, WhAt ShAlL yOu ShReD? wHy ThIs PoOr dUmB rEd!"

He stood over the woman now, his remaining finger knives raised high, ready to stirke. When a voice rang out.

"LET THE FLAMES OF MINE PASSION BURN ALL WHO WOULD HARM THOSE UNDER MINE WATCH!"

And the air holding the red-robed man was set ablaze in a burst of purple flames, soon turning into a fireball that flew towards the dark-skinned man. It hit him straight on, sending him flying until he hit a nearby streetlight, breaking it. At that time, a chilling, piercing scream blocked out all sound for what seemed like forever.

Then, silence. The red-robed man pulled himself out of the wall, falling to his knees. He took his time getting up, breathing heavily. He continued for a few seconds, and then his breathing slowed as he got up, and walked toward the downed man. He cuffed the man, securing both the wrists and ankles, and turned his attention to the woman. She was scared, and curled up, but no to let her calm down, the red-robed man pulled out a small gun from his robe, held it straight up, and fired. A flare flew straight up, bright green lighting up the sky.

After that, he reached into his robe, putting the gun back. He then picked the sword, spinning it around. He hit the center of the hilt, and the hilt popped out a collapsible sheath, and picked the book up off the ground, and dusted it off a bit. He turned towards the woman again, and saw that she had gotten up into a sitting position, and looked towards him.

"Who're you?" She asked, still shaken from what happened.

The red-robed man stood still for a few seconds, then he grinned. He pulled his hood down, revealing light brown hair that reached his shoulders, orange eyes, and a small, red tattoo on his neck, a sword over a book surrounded in flames.

His grin grew as he said, "Dan Kitari, at your service, ma'am!

Beacon, Headmaster's office, a few hour later

"Headmaster, the man Mr. Kitari apprehended, he was..."

"Dead. Yes, Ms. Goodwitch, I think we all know what killed him."

Ozpin sat at his desk, drinking his coffee. He continued, "This new dust, Black Dust, makes the user turn almost... Grimm-like, in terms of mental capacity. And when you are out of Aura, you die. Without fail, this makes it the fifth time this kind of incident happens."

Goodwitch watched over the battle numerous times, trying to find something they could use, but to no avail. She sighed, and then turned to Ozpin.

"Mr. Kitari also stated that the criminal kept "talking to" someone named Clara, and that he used air to hold him down makes me wonder..."

Ozpin sighed, and then took a sip. His silence was all she needed. She was about to say something when Dan popped into room, a small grin on his face. He walked over to the coffee machine and helped himself to it. Ozpin sighed again, slightly exasperated. "Dan... We've been over this. That is the staff's. You aren't staff."

"Cut me some slack, Oz. You had woken me up to take of this at 2. In. The. Morning. For free. I think I deserve a cup." Goodwitch started to say something again, but stopped herself. Instead, Ozpin chuckled.

"Fair enough. The creamer flavor is Atlas Vanilla." That made Dan cringe slighlty.

"Ugh, seriously. Why did that bastard Ironwood keep sending this crap? Everything about that guy screams 'Drop and give me twenty', except for this."

"Well, what does the creamer say?" Ozpin asked.

Dan mimicked throwing up, and pulled out a small packet from his robes. "Luckily, I brought my own creamer. Ah, sweet Choco-Caramel...". He pulled another packet, and threw it at Ozpin. "Try it sometime."

Ozpin caught the packet, and set it aside. "So, what do you think these recent attacks, Dan?"

Dan merely shrugged. "Apart from the obvious fact all the 'attackers' are humans, All I know is that they were all Hunters. Always attacking the women, both human and faunus. Which makes it seem random, and the fact that they all were wearing the Grimm skins seems to convince the victims it was a Grimm attack."

"Yes, that got my attention as well. As we all know, Grimm corpses only stay around for so long, and yet, the skin disappeared when the 'attackers' died." Goodwitch cleared her throat, and pulled up the the recent attack on her clipboard. She fast fowarded towards the point where Dan was stuck in the wall, and turned it towards them.

Dan cringed. "That really hurt. Could we not remind me of that?"

Goodwitch cleared her throat again, and said, "If you both look here, then you'll see why they DON'T disappear."

She pointed at the Beowulf head, and the sight made Dan spit out the sip he had just took.

"No way... Is that...?"

The Beowulf's eyes were glowing bright red. Goodwitch tapped the screen, and it changed colors, turning the entire attacker black.

"The Grimm is still alive?! And his aura, it's solid black?" Dan choked out. Goodwitch shook her head. Her voice lost her edge as she spoke.

"The Grimm was alive. The only thing dead is...", she turned away, and then said, "...is the one wearing it. What your seeing is the aura that the Hunter had been taken over by the Beowulf. If they were to someone able to disguise 'The Souless', as we are calling them, the results..." Her silence was enough.

Ozpin sighed again, and sipped his coffee. "Grimm always are the best terrorists. One would be enough for even Beacon to be thrown into mass panic."

Dan whistled. "If that Black Dust can do that much already, what makes you think they'll stop at disguising? For all we know, they could've already planned for more variety, and then attack number six becomes more then just late night chases."

Goodwitch paled. "What do mean, more variety?"

Dan pulled out a small bag, full of red dust. "This is something called BurstFlame. The red dust only needs a small amount of aura, and a little hole for said aura to go through makes for a nice boom, thank to the hidden bag of gunpowder inside it. Make one of those Souless swallow this, and when anyone damages the bag, the aura these Souless triggers the dust, and suddenly, Suicide Bombers!" He threw the bag on Ozpin's desk.

"And that's something anyone can make. With lots of dust..."

Dan stopped there.

No one needed to be a professor to find out that this was the worst situation.

························································································································

Dan had just stretched, got up, and walked out of the office, cup in hand. "You know where I'll be, Ozpin."

Ozpin sat, finishing of the lukewarm coffee, and before Goodwitch could follow Dan, he spoke.

"Let him be, Glynda. He has enough to think about by himself."

She turned toward him, frown set on her face. "He needs to be..."

"Alone, Gynda. Trust me, he needs down time." He sighed again, and got up. Looking the clock and seeing it was 5:13, he spoke.

"After all, finding Jack like that rips me apart. So I can only imagine how it feels for Dan."

At the landing pad, shortly after the meeting.

Dan sat, his legs dangling from where he was sitting, coffee still in hand, half gone. His hood up, tears ran down his face as he remembered Jack.

Jack Hues was a jokester. A prankster. His semblance was mostly used for his 'divine wind', as he could make many skirts flipped. He always got caught, and apologized from the bottom of his heart. He would fight off any bullies. He would then pick the victim up onto thier feet, and be their friend.

So why is he gone? Dan thought to himself. Why my first friend, the guy who would do anything for a laugh. And why would anyone attack Clara? Clara Miko, who would take in any animal and care for them, even the vicious ones.

He couldn't bear it. His team, under his watch, gone. Alice was with her flock, training in Atlas, all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Clara, the first and only death among the victims was found, the only thing left her was her bloodied clothes, all ripped to pieces. And now Jack...

Team JACK, lead by Dan Kitari, was gone. All because he couldn't lead.

He looked at the coffee in his hand, and poured it, watching the liquid fall. He dropped the cup, and got up. Using his sleeve to wipe his eyes, he walked back to his empty dorm room, to get any sleep he could, but before he went too far, he pulled out a small strap, made of the lette K, looked it, and put it back, continuing his walk...

DarkJester here.

First off, my first fan fic was taken down because I lost the chapters I had written for it, and the fact that I was trying for a looooooonnng story there, so yeah. And I had just gotten to a cliffhanger for that story made it worse, so good bye to that.

BTW, this is going to be updated whenever i find the time for it, so anywhere from now to never (lol).

Read and review, constructive criticism is appreciated, and here is a bio for Dan Kitari. Ain't I a nice guy?

Name: Dan Kitari

Age: 16

Home: Beacon (Orphan raised)

Brown Shoulder-Length hair, held into four (two on each side of face, and two in the back. Think ponytails.)

Pale skinned, thin, and 5'8"ish

Semblance: Runes. Like glyph magic, only more vocal. Runes summon up power from the elements, and as such, easier to use but require memorization. Runes can be written onto weapon and kept on them, but one rune word an item. Only exception are tomes.

Weapons:

Two-handed sword w/ the pegged hilt- Slash.

Tome with all his runes- Miracle

Mysterious Tome, filled with unknown runes- Name unknown (Runes on front are undecipherable.)

Equipment:

Red Robe, complete with hood.

Ash gray gloves.

Black pants with matching boots.

Aura Color: ?

Eye Color: Orange

Extra Info: Aura was only seen by Dan himself, and he never thought to tell anyone else. Incredibly lazy and easy going, and yet he easily blames himself for anything. He is an orphan, as far as anyone knows, so he was raised by the teachers at Beacon. More info on that in later chapters. (Maybe).

That's all for now, thanks for reading.

~DarkJester420.