I am Dust

Chapter 2

Clyde Lynx

Son, what did you do!?

Calm down, Claire… M-Maybe we can get out of this!

DON'T LET THAT BEAST GET NEAR YOU!

Why are you doing this to us!?

Don't you dare touch my child!

Screw it, kill them a-

"Mister Clyde!" The voice boomed out my name, silencing and dispersing the other voices swimming in my mind.

I felt my body jolt in surprise, the handcuff's chains jingling around, and my vision looking away from the space on the gray metal table. I focused my eyes on the slightly annoyed look of the woman leaning in front of me. She patiently stared at me with bright green eyes behind her thin rectangular glasses.

"It's shocking on how unfocused you seem to be, considering the trouble you seemed to be wrapped in…!" She criticized me with such a firm and sharp tone, as if she was lecturing a toddler. It only made me feel more sad and depressed; her personality fitted so perfectly with my mother's, as if their personalities were cloned. It only made it hard to make eye contact with her.

She stood up straight, holding a small tablet in her hands, scrolling through with her finger.

"Clyde Gunnolf Lynx. Aged 17, son of Flint and Claira Lynx. Born and raised in the town of Middlemist, and attended school at Middlemist Rural School." She read off the information, her eyes locked on her device as if I wasn't in the room with her.

"Hmm… Now this is interesting information. It says here that at the age of 15, you've murdered 2 teenagers, roughly older, along with your mother and father. You've the-"

"Not true." I cut her off. I knew what happened to my mother and father. It was the townspeople that killed them. It wasn't even for a good reason. They were just protecting me from those psychopaths.

Of course, it was the information she held in her hand against my words. She looked up at me with a steady glance, waiting for me to say more.

"I didn't lay a hand on my parents. If you're looking for real murderers, they all live in Middlemist."

"That may be true, Mister Clyde, but what about the murders of the two teens?" She questioned.

Well… I can't exactly prove that I didn't, because I really did kill them… or it did. They were just a bunch of bullies ganging up on me and beating me. I can't actually tell what happened next, because that memory is too foggy. But I can just tell that I lost control and… let it out. All I remembered were staring at their bloody mutilated carcasses and my parents running up behind me, my mother shouting "Son, what did you do!?" That memory was the beginning to the link of horrible memories to follow…

I sat there in silence, not sure how to respond to her. There's really no way of explaining how it all happened without sounding suspicious. It looked like my silence was enough of an answer, because she kept on reading.

"After the murder of your parents, it says that you ran and disappeared with your little brother, who doesn't have any files or information on him."

It's probably because we actually found him, or my parents did. They brought him home and told me that he will be staying with us, and that I must protect him at all cost. I promised them with a happy grin… But it looks like I failed them.

She looked up from the device right at me. I probably looked pretty pitiful.

"Clyde, I can tell if you are lying or not. And it seems that you haven't been lying. I believe that you did not kill your parents. And I cannot help but sympathize with the pain of the loss of your family, and I pray that they will all find eternal peace."

I couldn't look her eyes. The more she talked the worse I felt. I hated being pitied over by other people. It made me feel weak. My gaze went straight to the gray flat surface of the table. The more I sat here, the deeper and heavier the pity and sorrow I felt got, taking my heart and twisting it around. This feeling used to be so much easier to cope with and handle. However, this time it was stronger. I've never felt more alone in my life. Damn, I sound so emotional.

She took a chair across from me and sat down. She started with saying, "But this doesn't excuse your actions that you have committed tonight. So we will continue."

This lasted for half an hour. She just kept asking me questions, like "Why was I there?" "Can you recognize the faces," Just random questions that a suspect would be asked. The conversation grew more heated, as her tolerance grew thinner.

"This is not acceptable, Mister Clyde! We are getting nowhere with this! You've only been giving the same answer over and over again!"

"I told you already! I can't remember what happened after they killed Hans! I just… blacked out!"

"Then maybe this will help you!" She slid her device over to me after pressing a button on it.

And there it was: It was a surveillance picture taken from a shop window. You could see blood and viscera littering on the stone ground. I spotted a severed leg and an arm, clothed in the attire of the White Fang gang members' uniform. One was trying to limp with an injured bleeding leg, his face stuck with a scream of terror. What was he screaming at? The silhouetted object standing in the center of the picture. You can't get a clear picture of it at all. It was just a black blur that towered over the White Fang.

I looked at it with a blank, empty look. This is the thing that killed the teens. This is what the townspeople were looking for. This thing, this… demon! This is what caused all my trouble. And even I can't explain what it is.

I looked up into her sharp eyes with that same look and slid it back at her, closing the picture.

"I have no idea myself."

She was close to pulling out something else before the door creaked open. She looked behind her, and I looked over, leaning to the side to see the figure.

There was a man standing at the door. He had gray tousled hair, and thin brown eyes. He dressed like a professor; Shaded glass spectacles, an unzipped black suit over a black buttoned up vest and a green undershirt. He wore long dark-green pants and a green scarf around his neck. He walked in holding a mug and stood right beside the woman.

He looked at her and spoke. "I hope I am not interrupting, Ms. Goodwitch."

"Not at all. I believe I'm done here. I will take my leave and give you full judgment on how we shall deal with Mister Lynx here."

And just like that, she gets up and walks right out the open door, closing it and leaving me with this stranger. Looks like she got tired of me. Well, it's time to get this done with.

He made himself comfortable and took a seat, staring at me with his elbow on the table and his chin resting on his hands.

"Clyde Lynx. You have been through more than what a regular teenager should go through."

"Isn't that right?" I replied with a sarcastic tone.

The man opened an enveloped tucked under his arm and set it on the table along with his mug. The envelope had an emblem that I recognized: The two axes crossing each other with two wreath leaves on the bottom. It was Beacon Academy's emblem. But why is it on there?

"Mister Clyde, I would like you to understand that I would rarely meet with people who are accused of murder. However… Your situation has become the most unusual. I did not come here because of the… brawl that you were in. I am here to deliver this." He slid the envelope to me.

I gave the guy a questionable look. Who is this guy and why is he giving me this? WHAT is he giving me? What other business does he had with me other than that fight? He has to be a relative or a friend of my parents.

Whoever he is, he has something for me, and I'm going to take it. I took the envelope and poured out its contents.

It was a note and a chain with a metal emblem on it. It was hard to see what exactly what was etched into the emblem, but it definitely wasn't English. It looked like it belongs with the remains of a ruin. Rusted and chipped, the thing looked like it'd crumble in my hands. Even though I couldn't see the symbol imprinted in the middle clearly, it still looked familiar; I felt like I used to own it.

I quickly shook that feeling away as I slid it to the side, looking down at the note. I instantly recognized the handwriting. The note was written by my parents in two parts: My dad's writing and my mother's writing. The note was a bit too personal to read, so I won't tell you what it said. Just know it was a bit hard to read the writing with tears in my eyes.

I set it down and leaned my head to my hands, trying to wipe my eyes. This would be the last message I'll ever receive from them ever again. I'd better find a safe place to put this in my jail cell.

"H-How…" My voice cracked. I cleared my voice a bit and started again, asking, "How did you get this? Who are you?"

He took another sip from his mug and cleared his throat. "This note was given to me from your mother and father six years ago. They asked me to give this to you if they passed away before you were 17. When we were informed of their deaths, we were planning to take you and your brother into a foster home. However, you ran away and we were never able to get a hold of you."

Well that's just great. So I just figured out that I won't actually lose Hans. We would've found a home to stay and live in together. No orphanage was going to take him away from me. If I only I figured that out sooner. He would still be alive if I wasn't so fucking paranoid…!

He started typing on a device that was the same as the lady's device. He then looked up at me with a small smile. I started to question where this was going, until he spoke again. "Clyde, do you know who I am at all?"

I softly shook my head. "This isn't the first time we've met, is it?"

"Actually it is. But, before we get to introductions, I would like to tell you that you are not going to prison, and will be excused from your charges."

I felt my eyes widen and a weight being lift off my shoulders a bit. That was the best news I've heard in over 3 years. I felt relieved that they're not going to lock me up. But… why? What sort of thought in his head made him give me a pass after... IT killed all those White Fang? And if they're not sending me to prison, what are they going to do to me? And seriously, who is this guy!?

"I… I'm not?"

He got up from his seat looked at me with a definite glance.

"No. Your mother and father… they were honest and good students. I've seen many like them, but these two had a special place in my heart. They were good friends with me. And so," He spoke while he walked around the table to me, "I will fulfill a promise I made with them six years ago." He reached down and removed my cuffs.

The things were so tight, my wrist started to tighten up and cramp. As I rubbed them, I looked up at him and asked, "What promise is that…? And what do you mean by 'students'? Who are you?"

Wait… students… That's it! This guy is a friend of my parents! He must have been their teacher at Beacon and were probably good friends with him.

But of course… things were too good to be true.

He took one last sip before saying the words I hoped I would never hear. These were words I have long dreaded for, for those words would change my future long before the incident.

He stated, "I am Professor Ozpin. I am headmaster of Beacon Academy. We would be more than happy to have you enroll into our school."

… Okay, it is official. This guy is out of his mind. Me, a 17-year-old kid who killed two other teens and a group of gang members, enrolling into a school full more trained students to fight for Remnant against evil forces and hunt down Grimm. I'd rather go to prison than go to Beacon. It's not that I don't want to fight, because I'm not afraid to. And it's not that I can't fight either. But I can see a couple of problems that are going to be the end of me.

One: I'm not all that eager to hang out with a bunch of people. The nice thing about my town and where I was living was that I could be out in the forest and away from the annoyances of company other than my family. I'll probably just blend into the crowd and spend those years by myself, or end up drawing more attention to me than I need to. I'm going to have more enemies than friends.

Second problem: The thing. I have no control of it, I can't communicate with it, and I know that it will kill every living thing that moves. And after three years of being deprived of blood, that fight with the Fang is far from enough to satisfy it. I just hope that Beacon has excellent security, because this thing won't stop until either me or it gets killed. And if it dies, so do I. I'll probably speak more on to it

I could imagine many more problems that could occur, but those are the top two I worry about. I softly shook my head as more horrific ideas just fill my head.

My thoughts were suddenly silenced as he started talking again.

"Clyde… I want you to know that I understand that this is not going to be an easy transition; especially with your… ailment we will call it. But, I have faith in your parents that they are doing the right thing. If you were anybody else in this situation, I would not even thing of letting you attend my school."

"Then why let me…!? What if tonight happens again!? Why you are so lenient on letting me go to a place to learn to fight and kill just bewilders me! Give me one reason you think this is a good idea!" I snapped at him. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to be the one with any sense here. I'm not normal, and this thing is the only reason why. It has driven me to the point where I believed that I wasn't human, but a paranormal being, a puppet being controlled by that demon to walk with the living. I don't want to hurt anymore people, but I don't want to be alone. I just want a silver lining to this all. But going to this school would not be a good idea at all.

"Because I have faith in you as well." The man spoke as he took his seat back in front of me. "Clyde… I can see that this thing… that monster. That is what holds you back. Understand that I do not have a single clue on what is going on, but I understand that a bad thing can always be turned good. You've given up on yourself and blamed it on that one thing. But please just know that we can fix this. My job, my goal is to teach students how to control their powers and use them for good. I know you may think of this thing as a curse, but if you would just give me a chance… I could help you. I know that you can do good things, because I know you WANT to do good things. So don't give up without trying."

… In that moment, after hearing words that would probably mean nothing to anybody else, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time: hope. Here I was, just thinking of all the horrible things that could happen, instead of thinking on how to fix those horrible things. Just thinking "I can't, I can't, I can't," over and over in my head. That was what was keeping me back. I just flat-out surrendered myself to this beast without a fight. Maybe this is my one chance to beat whatever demon is resting in my mind. If I can't do this for me, then I gotta do it for my family. This thing has caused us so much pain and trouble, and I was just allowing it, my thoughts poisoned by the fear of it. I just want to control it, or just make it disappear. I want to be a normal person. But it looks like I can't do it by myself. I need to go, if I want a chance to be free again. And when I do… I know exactly what I'm doing next.

Yeah… I know exactly what I'm going to do! Those bastards from Middlemist… those are the real monsters here! Butchering my parents and running me and Hans out of our town, our home! The people who once were such close friends with my whole family, the people we trusted, turned out to be cowards who will do anything to destroy anything that they don't understand! It wasn't my fault that those teens were killed! I told them I want to explain! Hell, I SCREAMED at them to let me explain! But they just kept on coming, ignoring our screams and shouts to kill me! I'm going to find them… I'll show them how much of a monster I can be! I'll show them all!

"Clyde…" Ozpin's voice spoke out.

I then paused my thoughts and focused back on to reality. I looked down to see that my hands were bending and molding the table. When I let go, my hand grip molded into the edge of the table. I looked at my hands with an astonished look. I got a pretty damn strong grip.

"It seems that your power is being awakened. Tell me, has your aura been awakened yet?"

I looked up at him and said, "Well… once. But then they found a way to completely block it off so I couldn't use my powers. They did it before… they were killed."

"It seems that your body has found a way to reopen it, and it's conducting a lot of pent-up energy into your body. Your physical abilities will soon magnify from your current physique. Keep in mind that it will still be very limited, but expect to be able to take more bullets than you have before."

"Terrific…" I muttered to myself.

"We've gone a bit off topic. Now I still need an answer. Will you join Beacon Academy?" He asked me with another sip of his mug.

So now I have a choice: I could join the school with a small chance to learn to control this thing, graduate, and go exact my vengeance against all the people that'd done me wrong. Or, I could try to escape, go exact my vengeance, and go into hiding, living in an isolated area until I die. That last choice sounds pretty morbid. At least with the first choice I can get some better clothing.

"Okay… I'll join."

And with those words, I become a Beacon Academy student.

Let's pray to God this goes well.