Summary: Gather your forces, carve out your place in this abandoned world. But never forget, no matter how brightly you shine, you are but specks of light in a shadowed land. Transitory warmth that can oh-so-easily be snuffed out by the things hiding in the dark. Once more, let you be reminded of this truth.
Once upon a time, Remnant had been a world of magic and monsters. Where every corner could hide adventure and tragedy alike. Where there was always some unknown danger lurking around. That time is long-buried, wiped away by the wrath of a scorned God.
Now, Remnant was a world of Grimm and Hunters. A place where the only monsters are the creatures of destruction, where humans and faunus alike have achieved relative peace and safety. Threatened only by the machinations of a long-forgotten witch and the darkness within the two species.
For many, the darkness beyond the light of civilization is no longer the elusive and ever-shifting curtain within which countless dangers dwelt. Now, it is the cover of criminals and the home of beasts who, while dangerous, cannot breach the aegis of the kingdoms and threaten more than travelers or isolated villages.
No, for so many, the monsters of this era are the men and women who cast aside their morality and betray their species for personal gain. The Grimm relegated to a natural hazard, akin to floods or earthquakes. Something to be prepared for and opposed, but not truly feared until the threat is on your doorstep.
The gathered lights of humans and faunus alike had come together to form a bonfire that would continue to burn bright in the face of adversity, that one could only hope to snuff out by dividing the flames and letting the isolated sparks fade away without support.
To the people of this time, their efforts had illuminated the darkness that had so long terrified them. They knew what awaited them beyond their walls, that there were more threats yet unseen, but they were confident that the creatures themselves had been quantified.
For they felt that they, at last, understood enough of the Grimm to render them little more than particularly dangerous animals. Threatening, but something that can be analyzed, predicted, and countered. Something that the residents of Remnant could, with time and effort, surpass and finally eliminate.
Even those few who remembered what once was, whether they fought to build up or tear down this new order, had come to believe that they knew the whole of the game board. That the monsters of the past had been long-since left behind and all that remained of them were scattered legends.
Perhaps the best example of such beliefs was the holiday known as Halloween. A day where children dressed up as monsters in search of tricks and treats alike. When humans and faunus alike could come together to laugh at the creatures who had terrorized their world for living memory.
To the Witch and the Wizard, the day was known by a very different name: Samhain. The day when the boundaries between worlds were the weakest, a time where the dead would walk the earth once more and monsters prowled the dark.
For those who had lived in the Age of Fairy Tales, it was a day of terror and desperation. Where most had little choice but to hide themselves away behind wards and prayer, hoping that the storm might pass them over.
Even among those who made a living battling the forces of darkness, it was a day to dread. There could be no preparation for the myriad of horrors, they could simply buckle down and fight their hardest to reduce the number of victims. Hoping that they wouldn't be counted among the prey.
That was the true horror of the day: that there simply was no true way to prepare, to save oneself from the tide. Simply the hope that what little you could do might align with the terrors that would descend. That you could bar the violent, identify the deceitful, and appease the vengeful.
A reminder that, for all their advancements, humanity had not and could not conquer the unknown. A stake of fear, driven into the hearts of the people, so that they never forgot what awaited them should they grow complacent.
Now, the day was nothing but a memory. A telling so distorted by the passing that it barely resembled its origins and the truth buried beneath the passage of ages. And so, the dangers it brought faded away into the stuff of jokes and Grimm tales.
But, we all know that stories never really die.
For those who cared to look just a bit deeper, a trend began to emerge: the number of disappearances, violence incidents, and various other dangerous occurrences spiked on Halloween.
People would turn up dead if they didn't slip through the cracks entirely, bouts of unexplained property damage littered the kingdoms, and more than a few people had gone on record swearing that they had caught glimpses of otherworldly beings that weren't present any other day.
Of course, all of this was rather easily rationalized by the public. The disappearances could be written off as competent criminals, the same for the property damage. With little more than their word for proof, anyone who spoke of strange creatures lurking about was quickly determined to either have made it all up or partied a bit too hard.
With the events logically explained, many of those who sought out further details would retire their investigations. Merely telling themselves to be more alert on that day and be careful not to impair their judgment.
Just another blip in their normal lives. Even Huntsmen would brush off the rumors after so investigation. After all, if it's only for one night, and no one has any proof, wouldn't their time and efforts be better spent working against the monsters they know exist?
But for those who dove deep enough, whether through circumstance or determination, what awaited them was a world unlike anything they had ever imagined.
Because, while Remnant might have left the Age of Fairy Tales behind long ago, the tales and the beings depicted within had never truly left it.
It was another raucous Halloween at Junior's bar. The dance floor was full of customers partying like there's no tomorrow, the alcohol sold in record numbers, and anyone who got a bit too carried away with the festivities was thrown out before they could bring down the mood.
For Jerry, minion third-class as he liked to call himself, it was one of the best times of his life. He got to meet hot chicks, party as much as he wanted so long as he did his job, and Junior even gave his workers a free bottle of booze as a holiday present.
With such a good time right there, it only made sense that he'd stumble out of the doors at the end of his evening shift drunk as a skunk and still high on the atmosphere. His red hair was messy and untamed after a night of debauchery and his unfocused blue eyes were concealed by a pair of sunglasses.
"Man, I hit the big time tonight." Jerry declared to himself, looking over the blurry sight of the four scroll numbers from four very attractive women he'd manage to cajole into handing them over.
He'd have to be careful about getting in touch with them, but, so long as he didn't do anything too stupid, he was in for some happy times soon.
With that pleasant thought sloshing around his skull, Jerry waltzed down the street, too busy celebrating his day to consider calling for a taxi or taking a train home. He was one of Junior's goons, the only people he had to worry about were those freaking Huntsmen and they didn't have jack on him. No harm in enjoying himself a bit longer.
And so, with a smile on his face and a song in his heart, Jerry set off on his journey back to his apartment. Letting the burning warmth of good booze ward off the unexpectedly chilly night air.
Twenty minutes and as many blocks later, that good feeling had started to wear thin.
The surrounding buildings didn't feel as familiar as they should. Like everything was a half-inch off of where it should be. It made the goon question if he'd taken a wrong turn at some point along the way.
He remembers there being a bookstore over there and that he should have passed by a dust shop by now. That the stray dog who lives around here should be out begging for scraps right now.
"Man, I must have drunk more than I thought," Jerry mused to himself, a dopey smile on his face. "Where even am I?"
He turned around and looked back at where he'd come from, hoping that there might be some identifying sight that could help him figure out his current location. Sadly, the street signs kept blurring, so all he managed to figure out was that he was probably in the right neighborhood.
Emboldened by this conclusion, Jerry faced back the other way and resumed his stroll. The rhythmic plodding of his steps thumping along like a lethargic heartbeat.
With his dilemma out of mind, his thoughts began to drift to other topics.
For a Halloween night, the streets were surprisingly devoid of travelers. Jerry had only seen a half-dozen people and a total of four cars throughout his walk thus far. For the last five minutes, he hadn't laid eyes on a single living soul.
It wasn't like everyone would come and party, but it was still early on in the night. He didn't exactly live in a popular part of town, but there should still be people coming and going from whatever they were doing for the night.
Not having to shove his way through noisy crowds was a definite plus, but Jerry couldn't deny that this quiet was doing a good job of killing his buzz. There was just something about the atmosphere that was just draining all the good times he'd had at Junior's right out of him.
Like he'd walked into a room, only for everyone in there to give him a death glare right off the bat.
Of course, there wasn't anyone out with him, so the whole thing ended up feeling like baseless paranoia. Which didn't do wonders for his mood.
On top of that unpleasantness, Jerry was increasingly sure that he might not be headed the right way. The buildings seemed to be getting steadily worse in condition and none of the signs are ringing any bells.
As if that wasn't bad enough, the goon thought he'd caught a glimpse of someone moving around in one of the alleyways he'd passed by. The sound of something slamming a dumpster shut certainly made the idea seem plausible.
While it was nice to hear another living being after almost half an hour of unnatural silence, Jerry really didn't want to run into a hobo again. They could be vicious if pushed far enough and he'd built up more than a little bad blood with the street rats over the years.
Jerry let out a huff. "You make a few examples and suddenly every scavenger in Vale starts getting ready to throw down when you get close. There's no justice."
Putting the nuisances out of his mind, it wasn't like he couldn't take three of them at once, Jerry tried to see if he could pin down any of his surroundings. Or even if there was transportation he could take around here.
Sadly, his inspection yielded nothing but the knowledge that the buildings in the area needed a fresh coat of paint. That and someone had taken up residence next to the one dumpster if the pile of blankets was any indication.
Seeing as how moving forward hadn't done anything but get him more lost, Jerry spun around on his heel and began marching back the way he came. The corners of his mouth turned down into an exasperated frown as air hissed out between his darkening lips.
"It's fine, it's fine," he repeated to himself, trying to keep up what was left of his good mood as the cold emptiness only seemed to grow more imposing. "Once I'm back I can have a few drinks and this'll all be a funny story for the next time I meet up with the guys."
Taking another look around through narrowed eyes, Jerry spied a person seated on the ground. A blanket pulled over their curled-up form.
"Finally, some answers." He walked over to the figure, intent on asking them where he was. And if he fingered the pocket where he kept his club, well, it paid to be prepared in this town.
"Hey, you there," Jerry called out to the unnamed person. "Where the hell is this?"
Their only response was to shift around a little before pulling the blanket a bit higher.
Jerry, being the kind and patient soul he was, took this with grace and dignity.
"I said, where the hell am I?!" the goon yelled, his foot slamming into the person's chest and knocking them over.
The force of the blow knocked the blanket off the victim's chest, revealing a middle-aged brunette man with extensive stubble wearing a tattered shirt and jeans.
"Guh!" the man wretched, seeming like he would empty his stomach at any moment.
Without waiting for the man to recover, Jerry reached down and grabbed him by the collar. Pulling him back up so that the goon could stare right into his milky eyes.
"Now then, let's try this again. Where am I?"
"Why are you doing this?" the vagrant desperately pleaded for answers. "What else is there for you to take from me?"
"I've never met you before you crazy coot," Jerry spat. "I'm lost, my buzz is dead, and I'm having to rely on some random hobo for directions. Just tell me where this place is already and you can get back to freezing to death."
The man looked up at Jerry with fearful eyes, a spark of rage beginning to burn within those pale orbs.
"You came to my home one night demanding money and, when I said I had none to give, beat me within an inch of my life before taking what you could carry," he snarled. "And you have the utter gall to stand there and demand more? To act like nothing ever happened?!"
"Oh, you're one of those idiots who borrowed money from Junior without thinking about how it'd have to be repaid," Jerry scoffed. "If you're dumb enough to get into that situation, it's your own fault. Now, one more time," he began, shaking the man roughly with every word. "Where. Am. I?"
"Where you belong," the man spat back, wincing as his captor's grip tightened. "Lost and alone, with no one to help you escape the consequences of your mistakes."
"Tch, worthless." Jerry clicked his tongue as he threw the man down onto the street. "Am I gonna have to beat the answers out of you then?"
The man responded by chuckling lightly, as if Jerry had made a particularly amusing joke. The sound steadily grew louder and louder until mad laughter filled the streets.
Unnerved by the sight, Jerry took a step back. Then two. Unsure how to react to such a sudden shift in demeanor.
"What the hell," he whispered, his hand reaching for his concealed pistol.
"You didn't think, didn't question!" the man howled. "Not a single thought of why the streets are so empty, why the world feels just a little bit off. Just sauntered around without a care in the world, like nothing could touch you. I guess there really is justice in this world after all!"
"Hey old man, the hell are you going on about?" Jerry demanded, feeling that he was losing control over the confrontation, drew his gun from his pocket and pointed it at the man. "Is this some kind of setup?!"
The homeless man's laughter slowly died down and he turned his head to stare into Jerry's eyes. "Not one like you're thinking," he smirked. "Did you know? Long ago, before it became Halloween, today was known as Samhain. A day when it was said the barrier between life and death grew thin. When monsters swarmed across the world and all you could do was hope to ward them off."
Blood began to well up from their scalp, trickling down the side of the man's head in a growing flood as his skin grew gaunt and pale, entire sections outright rotting away. An unearthly howl rose up from unseen mouths, replacing the eerie quiet that had characterized this night with a monstrous pressure.
"But you weren't afraid of any monsters, were you? Just old stories from overactive imaginations, things for you to laugh at while you drink late into the night."
Jerry felt his arms tremble, his gun shaking uncontrollably at the sight. Despite every bit of his being screaming for him to fire, an overwhelming sense of terror left him frozen to the spot.
"Well, now you've gone and wandered off into a den of monsters. One that you've had no small part in raising," the ghoulish creature stated with a smug grin on it's rotted face at the sight of Jerry's reaction. "Or did you think that your actions wouldn't have consequences? That we wouldn't have…"
Before the creature could finish speaking, something in Jerry snapped and his fingers pulled back the trigger. Round after round flies out of the barrel, the violent bangs punching holes in the howls filling the air alongside his screams, but Jerry continued to fire until all that greeted his efforts was a simple click.
In his panicked state, Jerry continued to pull the trigger for the next few seconds, accomplishing little more than rotating the cylinder, before his brain caught up to the present.
The being who-was-once-a-man had a dozen holes peppered throughout his body, each a tiny window to the street behind him. Despite having suffered what would easily be five separate fatal wounds and twice as many crippling ones, the creature was unphased.
Jerry took in this sight, eyes wide with horror as the little-used analytical part of his brain took in the sight of bullet holes in the sidewalk behind the being and came to a terrifying conclusion: the bullets had passed straight through the target as if he was little more than mist.
If the creature's total lack of reaction to being shot hadn't been shocking enough, Jerry was treated to the sight of the holes sealing shut. Leaving no trace of the damage behind.
"Our revenge?" he finished seamlessly. "We're no longer of the mortal coil, you and your ilk have seen to that. Weapons meant to kill men are useless against shades who have long since left their physical forms behind."
A single word from that sentence broke through the overwhelming terror pervading Jerry's mind and prompted his lips to form words again. "We?" he stuttered softly. Several of the creature's comments suddenly came together to form a very unpleasant conclusion.
As if summoned by his thoughts, spectral figures began to emerge around him, whether from the surrounding alleyways or even thin air. Each bearing horrifying marks of their own, from pulverized knees to twisted fingers, to diseased flesh. The wounds being the only consistent traits in their misty forms.
"For years and years, your boss and his thugs have taken everything from people like us. Preying on their vulnerability in desperate times and forcing them to accept your terms, only to steal away everything of value the moment they realize you've rigged the game and beat down those who resist." The first specter continued, the mob howling in anger as his words grew louder.
"Even in death, we're forced to watch as you target our loved ones in our stead, exposing them to the same traps that ruined our lives, powerless to protect those we left behind." The howls grew louder, the cries carrying such weight that Jerry could almost see the scenes of ruin and suffering play out in his mind.
"Even on this day, the one chance those who have passed away have to interfere with the mortal plane, we can do little but watch you celebrate your bloody fortune. Shielded from retribution by the collective light of the many souls drawn either to your promises of bliss or the merriment of the holiday."
"But this year, things are different," the emaciated man leaned forward, his milky eyes boring into Jerry's brown orbs and piercing his very soul. "This year, you were foolish enough to wander off the beaten path. Away from the people who would have shielded you and into our grasp."
The temperature, already eerily cold, plunged into downright frigid territory. So much so that the sufficiently observant would notice that Jerry's panicked breaths were tinged with ice crystals. The expelled moisture freezing over in the moments between exhaled and fading.
"Wait, wait a second" Jerry stammered, frantically waving his arms as if doing so could repel the spirits. "Look, whatever I may or may not have done to you, wouldn't you rather get payback on my boss? I can bring him here." The spirits, undeterred by this argument, continued to circle him. Malicious intent wafting from their horrific visages.
"Junior's the one who made the calls, I just carried them out. If I hadn't, it would have been someone else." Jerry desperately argued. "I'm just another guy stuck in a bad situation like all of you. If you think about it, I'm as much a victim as any of you."
Needless to say, this did little to endear him to the mob, who began slowly closing in on him from all sides.
"You face the consequences of your actions now as we once did, this is true," the pale-eyed specter nodded. "However, why should you receive the mercy you never gave any of us?"
"Junior will come to us in time. Perhaps he'll investigate your fate, perhaps he'll be killed by one of his rivals, or maybe he will simply wander off to the wrong place at the wrong time as you have. Even if we must wait a hundred years, we will have our vengeance in time."
The figure rose to his feet and began striding towards Jerry, his gait conveying the confidence of a hunter who had his prey cornered and ripe for the kill. The mob of spirits parted before him as he moved towards tonight's guest.
"Here and now, there is you and us," he crooned, reaching out and plucking the sunglass from Jerry's shaking face. "And there are so many experiences we must share with you before the night is done."
And on that note, the horde surged in towards their victim, a screaming maelstrom of horrific visages and grasping appendages. Within seconds, Jerry was buried beneath the tide of vengeful souls, his desperate struggles unable to push back even a single foe.
The last thing the goon saw before his world was consumed by darkness was the grinning skeletal visage of the thing he had once thought was a harmless hobo. And then everything became pain.
It was the morning after Halloween, and for many, it was a time of recovery. A time to deal with hangovers and prepare oneself for rejoining the rest of society.
Yet this peaceful period was marred when the scream of a terrified young woman tore through the morning quiet.
Fearing the worst, many of those who heard the sound raced over to its location as quickly as they could. Hoping that they might make it in time.
What they found was long past any help.
One of Vale's many alleyways had been painted red, a sanguine fluid coating the ground and walls. There at the entrance stood the one whose cry had called them, a blonde girl in her late teens, whose finger was pointed at the mutilated figure at the center of this scene.
Whatever had happened to the victim, and there was no way they could be anything but, had clearly not been quick or clean. His fingernails had been ripped out, his pale skin was stretched out over emaciated muscles, and chunks of his flesh had outright been torn away by what appeared to be grasping claws.
Worst of all were his eyes, wide even in death, which stared out into the distance with blatant horror. The sight of those milky orbs burning itself into the minds of all those with the misfortune to witness it.
In the days to come, there would be a thorough investigation, from police and criminals alike, but no answers were ever found. As far as the rest of Remnant could tell, Jerry had simply had the bad luck of running across an extremely violent murderer who had since vanished off the face of the world.
Life went on and, in time, Jerry's story was forgotten. Another tale of death in a city where someone goes missing every day, only noticeable for how shocking the manner of the murder itself was.
But to those who paid close enough attention to such things, a new story began to circulate: that, should you wander the streets alone on Halloween night, you may wander across a den of monsters.
And so, another legend was added to the pile. Another reason for humanity to keep watch for the things that lurked within the dark. Another Halloween nightmare in a world full of them.
I live!
So, I know it's been a while since I posted anything. To sum things up, I had some realizations about where the plot was headed and that I would need to make some changes for things to work. The issue was, this reorganization, combined with some IRL matters at the time, kind of left me burnt out.
I just couldn't get the words out, even if I'd planned out the chapters. Aya's section of the upcoming update has been particularly bad about that for reasons I honestly don't comprehend.
Anyway, I felt like making a Halloween special, as rushed as this is, as a way of maybe getting myself back in gear. Time will tell how well that works out, but I hope you enjoyed this.
Originally, this was planned to be more of a collection of stories, but life reared it's head again and I ended up having to just focus on writing one if I wanted to make it in time. I'll see about incorporating the other stuff into future chapters though, so it might show up eventually.
Anyway, a happy Halloween to all of you and hopefully I'll have something new ready soon than later. See you around!